Official Story: Enter Sedorra

Jacques shook his head as he watched Kris leave. Dirt? he thought. This is no joking matter - I'm starving to death here! Jacques was sure that if he didn't get some food soon, his stomach would start eating itself.

The bright colours of the sunset were beginning to fade and night was falling. It used to be quite common for Jacques' dad to stay out after dark, back when Jacques' mum died, but that was years ago now; it's rare for his dad to stay out this late nowadays.

No need to worry, he tried to convince himself as he gathered his piece of wood and his knife from the veranda. He can look after himself.

Jacques headed inside the house. He looked through the cupboards, trying to find something he could eat. There was half a loaf of stale bread, some salted meat and a few apples from the nearby orchard. He grabbed one of the apples and bit into it. It was soft and a little floury, but he was so hungry that it tasted like heaven.

He took a seat at the dining table, putting his feet up on the surface that had been so carefully crafted by his dad. He was tempted to start whittling at the edges - he was sure he could make a lovely plaited pattern stretch around the tabletop's perimeter - but he decided against it; he was sure his dad wouldn't like it.

Where is he? he thought, looking out at the dim light and slowly working his way around the apple. When he was done, he stood again and opened the door, ready to toss the core out into the night. He nearly threw it directly at his dad's face.

He stepped aside for his dad to enter the house before chucking the core into the garden and closing the door behind them. 'Where'd you get to, Dad?' Jacques asked.

'Just up the coast; nowhere special,' his dad replied.

'But it's really late - did you bring back a big catch?'

Jacques' dad showed Jacques a pair of dirty, empty hands. 'Does it look like I brought back a big catch?' he spat. He passed Jacques, opened a cupboard in the kitchen and found a bottle of old whiskey. He poured himself a glass, downed it, and poured himself another.

Jacques eyed his whittling, which he had left on the table. He knew his father would not approve of how he spent his day, so as subtly as possible he shuffled to the table and hid the items behind his back.

'I'm sorry you didn't have a good day, Dad,' Jacques said. 'I'm exhausted. I think I might head to bed.'

Without waiting for a reply, Jacques quickly retreated to his bedroom and shut the door. It was still early, but he didn't want to get on his dad's bad side, particularly if he was going to start drinking, and just being in the same room as his dad meant that he was on his bad side. They never did get along.

Jacques put his whittling in a box that he kept beneath his bed before lying on the bedspread. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about the stories his mother used to tell him. Knights riding Chocobos across the countryside, solidiers fighting wars in the mountains, and pirates exploring the seas. As the night drew on, the sound of his father pacing back and forth across the floorboards gave the house a steady heartbeat that lulled him into sleep.

"So, how's that mine of yours going?" Gerhard asked as he poured himself an ale and sat down.

"Bah, you know how those driggers are" Derk said as he took a large swig of his ale "some days they find you handfuls of precious gems, some days they barely find enough coal to keep the forge burning." Derk finished his ale in one swallow and belched loudly. "But today was a good day, ol' Fisk found me a big vein of Cobalt, should keep in the drink for a few days. In business too I suppose."

Derk started to eat his meat with gusto as Gerhard poured him another ale. "Get this, some lady came in today and asked me to make her some silver earrings for the festival, and I says 'Look here lady, this is a smithy not a jeweler. I can make you a pickax or a sword, but not stinkin' earrings.' you shoulda seen the look on her face Ger, bright as a Ruby she was and left in a huff." Derk laughed loudly as he took a large drink from his newly poured ale.

"So, how's business been treating you eh? What with the festival and all."

Sadly, it was mere seconds after Jahred noticed the Aelum that another person had greeted with her. Drat. He ushered Kathvi in the general direction while a couple of dancers marvelled at her incredible 'costume'. Nodding to them impatiently as Kathvi smiled and returned pleasantries regarding their own attire, he noticed one of them peering at her a little too closely. He glanced towards the Aelum and her friend who happened to look his way. Beaming with delight, he all but pushed Kathvi away from the inquisitive dancer.

Come, Kathvi! he thought. I fear we may not have a better opportunity! Trotting up to the great white Ursus, he bowed deeply. "My sincere apologies for intruding on your discsussions. I am Jahred, a trader, and I have stumbled across a new friend who is, well, very new to this area indeed. This is Kathvi." He looked to the once again very shy looking girl to his right. "She, uh, seems to have lost her memory, you see... I would not intrude if there were another Aelum around. I was hoping that you might be able to advise on whether you have stumbled across, uh..."

Jahred glanced at the man to the right of the Ursus. He seemed to be entertained by each of the three people, constantly glancing at them as if he intended to study even the finest details of each face. Jahred stalled on his words uncomfortably. He almost felt as if the man were wanting to simply reach out and touch him. It was an awkward feeling. Yet, more curious than anything, the man looked at Kathvi no more or less strangely than he looked at the Aelum or Jahred himself, an Akim.

"...sorry, that is, I was wondering if you have ever seen anyone of Kathvi's... appearance before. She recalls living in the mountains, so I felt you were the only one I could ask. She seems to have some kind of amnesia." continued where he left off, refocusing on the Aelum with sincerity. He always held the Ursus in high esteem - they had helped guide him during his early days traveling across the continent. He respectfully bowed his head once more, and awaited a reply.

Blackie Ganister's fine-tuned ears were expecting the crunch of mast to give away the presence of others. He had not expected the shouting, the warking, and the violent thrashing of the underbrush, but he heard all of it, and he was less than thrilled. This, this is unacceptable. I don't need to put up with this crap.

With a long heaving sigh, he let everything rest on his lap, and he sidled a hand beneath the mess for comfort. Yes, his hand lightly stroked a length of hardwood.

A man crashed through the final screen of low hanging branches and waist-high bushes. He was young, he was big, and if Blackie's expectations were to be met, he was dumb. Leathered and belted, the man's waist sported a longsword.The man hollered upon spying the hat-topped doban. Loudly.

"Hey, you're Blackie, right," the human shouted. "Blackie the trader? You take things and sell them in Lucrecia?" His voice carried through the hum of the forest, and the doban cringed at every loud note. This man was clearly a shoopuf if he ever saw one.

"Yeah, that's him, he's got the red hat and everything," confirmed a second human, as it spilled its way out of the trees. This one was a little smaller, darker, and reminded Blackie of a weasel, and so that is what he became. This small man wore commoner's garb, but the way his shirt fell, one could see the bulky outlines of knives studding his torso. Weasel was tugging on a pair of reins, willing something obstinate to bend to his will, and clearly this was a long battle he was fighting, and poorly at that. "C'mon, you dumb birds, listen when I say!"

To the doban's seconds-lasting horror, Weasel successfully tugged two chocobos into the clearing. A young blue and an older yellow, both looked exhausted and abused. No trust or cooperation gleamed in their eyes, only fear. Saddles sat on the two chocobos backs, and Blackie worried whether Shoopuf had ridden upon the blue.

Perhaps realizing he was close enough for normal-volume conversation, Shoopuf's talk took a lower register. "Blackie, thanks for meeting us. Me and my bro, we've been looking to sell our chocobos, and people say you buy and sell near anything. You don't ask questions, they say," said Shoopuf, and let out an oof as his companion elbowed him.

"These birds are our pride and joy," said Weasel, "And it's breaking out hearts to have to sell them. Times've been tough though, so we got to let Bluey and Yelly go." He tried to pat the yellow's beak; it shied its head and avoided contact. "Ha ha, he's just so shy and scared to be out in the Wylds. I don't disagree; finding here was hard enough, and getting out would be hard if we hadn't left the greens blossoms. Why'dja set up the meeting in the woods? I heard from--wha, why the frown?"

Blackie had been growing a frown on his face since the moment Shoopuf came into view, and it had grown with each spoken syllable. He grabbed the axe from his lap and stood up, letting the other items fall from his lap. The doban used it as emphasis with his speech. "What. is. this. bulltrout?" The axe waved. "Chocobos? What in the Deeps am I to do with smurfing chocobos out here?! You wanted to sell me something good, as I hears it from me mate, and he hooks you up, and you bring me smurfing chocobos? You could have brought uncut gems, fancy lords' fencing swords, heiress jewelry, packs and sacks of grain, tobacco, salt, or casks of Arna's finest!" The axe chopped into the log. Wiggle, wiggle, came free. "All of that loads on me birds, no problem, and I can be on me way! But animals? Not just animals, but chocobos! And you got a blue one, and an underage at that! You know birds and colors means papers, right?" The log split with the next hit, and the axeblade dug into the earth. "And I know you don't have papers, boyos, because you ain't that high-class, eh, you sewer-sucking idiots!? You didn't do your prep, and you're shafting me with a hot bird, and you think that's a deal! You're daft, and. you. left. the. Mimett. greens." Now the axe waggled directly at the Weasel, who seemed to understand Blackie's words. "You should've brought your own birds for riding and ate the greens on your way here! You should've either gotten papers or passed word I needed them! You should have been quiet on your way here, instead of alerting the whole smurfing Wylds! You boyos deserve a good axing for a lot of things, and at the top of the list is thinking I'm a criminal. No, I am a businessman, and you're making business bad."

By the first strike at the log, Shoopuf and Weasel already had hands on weapons, and at the end of Blackie's rant, they had drawn their blades. Blackie laughed, and slung his axe into his belt. "Now, you might deserve an axing, but I'm a businessman, not a murderer! So I'll cut you a business deal, despite your shady, sub-par goods. Now, these chocobos look run ragged, one is a youth, and both are very, very illegal, so I am thinking of something in the order of...a hundred-thirty Arnan coin."

"What," sputtered Shoopuf, "A hundred-thirty Arnan? We could fetch that much for the yellow!"

Weasel shook his head, "That's a low ball if I ever heard one. One-thirty, each."

"One-thirty each?" queried Blackie. "How about one-twenty?"

"Whaaat, that's lower!" was Weasel's response.

"One-ten," Blackie offered.

Shoopuf shook his sword and said, "No, one-thirty. We could kill you."

"One. Final offer."

"It's two versus one," argued Shoopuf.

Blackie Ganister nodded in acceptance. "Deal; two versus one."

Locke VI

It was about an hour later. Locke and Alistair had finished acquainting themselves with the inn facilities. The Carbuncle Inn's upstairs consisted primarily of rooms and restrooms. Meanwhile, the downstairs consisted of the reception, and a large cosy lounge, complete with a darts board and other amenities such as a drinks bar for patrons. Locke made sure that it was worth the money.

The two were just walking down the stairs, when they came across the innkeeper haggling with a man.

"So, then... what was your name again? Ziard?" said the innkeeper, stumbling over his words.

"That's not quite right, friend. It's Zi-ad." The man who spoke seemed pleasant, and appeared somewhat used to this question, as if he was repeating a stock answer. He must get that a lot, Locke thought to himself.

The innkeeper trembled. "Oh I am so, so, so sorry! I didn't mean to offend you at all, sir! I hope you can forgive my apology! Here is your key, rooms are up the stairs" The man named Ziad simply waved him away, smiling all the while.

"Ah, it is alright. Humans always seem to mispronounce my name, it is of no consequence." It was at this point that Ziad noticed Locke and Alistair as they moved down the stairs. Ziad nodded an acknowledgement, and Locke nodded back.

Locke spent this brief time to get a proper look at this man. Well, he's clearly an Akim, thought Locke, the trademark leathered skin would tell you that. Locke also noticed the relative dishevelment of the Akim. His head-scarf appeared dusty and worn, as if it had seen many a journey. His eyes were friendly, yet nonetheless displayed the telltale signs of a traveler. Locke knew what to look for.

"You're an explorer aren't you?" Locke inquired.

"Why yes, I am, thank you asking. How could you tell?" Ziad inquired back, intrigued by this stranger.

"Oh, I have my ways. Locke Cromwell, it's a pleasure to meet you Ziad." Locke made sure to pronounce his name properly, an effort that visibly impressed the Akim.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, honestly you are one of the few humans here to be able to correctly pronounce my name. And who is this child?" Ziad gestured over to Alistair, who has so far been content with looking at this strange man with obvious amazement. They moved into the inn's lounge, a better location to converse. Locke poured Ziad and himself a drink.

"This is Alistair, he's the son of one of my close friends. I'm, well..., I'm taking him to see the Queen's Festival. He's always wanted to see it."

"Yes, someone told me about the Queen's Festival when I arrived here earlier today. It is a truly fascinating event." Ziad could not help but notice Alistair's gaze. Speaking more quietly, "I cannot help but notice your friend's son is... glaring at me. Did I offend him?"

Locke responded immediately. "Alistair, stop gazing at the poor man." The boy did as he was told, and began leafing through the embarrassingly book collection the innkeeper displayed on a bookshelf. Locke turned his attention back to Ziad. "Don't mind him. Where he lives, he has hardly ever seen an Akim before. He's just curious."

Ziad seemed content with the response. They continued talking for several minutes, moving through the small talk people inevitably engage with when they meet someone for the first time. However, it flowed smoothly, both Locke and Ziad happy with the flow of the conversation. This Ziad fellow has some amazing adventuring stories, Locke thought.

Ziad pointed at the darts board. "What say you and me throw a few darts?"

"I like your style, Ziad," Locke said casually.

Game on.​

-Ziad-
Ziad and Locke continued to play a round of darts in the lounge of the inn. Playing had reminded the Akim of his childhood while living at the Akimolm Desert. He threw a dart at the board, but missed his intended target by a large margin. "Playing this game has reminded me of my childhood..." He said calmly, as he stepped back to let Locke take his turn.

"How so, Ziad?" Locke asked as he took his turn to throw.

"When I was a young Akim I used to play with my friends, and there was a game we played that's very similar to this one," the Akim recalled, "On the calm, windless days of the desert, we would draw targets in the sand and then we would toss rocks at them. Anyone who hits the target will earn points. Anyone who hits the exact center usually wins the game."

"That fascinating," Locke said, "Is there a name for this game?"

The Akim shook his head. "I'm afraid there is no actual name for this game. My friends and I just called it the sand target game. It's a simple name for a simple game."

The two continued to play while Alistair watched on while he read a book.

Derk complained about his unreliable driggers. It was ironic, in a way: Derk himself could be unreliable at times. But when push came to shove, Gerhard knew Derk would figure something out. His driggers... not so much.

"But today was a good day, ol' Fisk found me a big vein of Cobalt, should keep in the drink for a few days. In business too I suppose," Derk said, before tearing into his food. Gerhard refilled his mug and mentally added it to the tab.

"Get this," Derk started. "Some lady came in today and asked me to make her some silver earrings for the festival, and I says 'Look here lady, this is a smithy not a jeweler. I can make you a pickax or a sword, but not stinkin' earrings.'" Derk laughed a deep, bellowing laugh. "You shoulda seen the look on her face Ger, bright as a Ruby she was and left in a huff."

Gerhard grinned. A man after his own heart. Other innkeeps, shopmasters, and stall owners swear by a rule: the customer is always right. Gerhard firmly believed the opposite, and Derk did too. They offered a particular service; if you didn't like it, piss off. Indeed, Gerhard's belief ensured he had cultivated regular patrons that would give generously and cause few problems. Loyalty was an important quality and it served him well here in Old Arms.

"So, how's business been treating you eh? What with the festival and all," Derk asked.

"Bah, don't remind me," Gerhard said. "I get enough bothersome customers as it is. Those Ursus are alright; they eat their fill and don't cause too much of a scene. But these blasted humans... They think they own the show. Just 'cause they're everywhere; rabbits is what they is, rodents and pests. I only got time for about a half dozen of them, a few regulars who were lucky enough not to get their heads punched in."

He stretched his arms upwards, his sizeable biceps flexing. There was a crack-crack-crack as his back adjusted.

"I don't trust those Akim either. Fishy folks. But I let a few of 'em in the past week or so. They pay the bill. All sorts of strange folk in town for the festival though. Wonder what Queen What'sherface wants with all these weirdos. Give me a sturdy Lucrecian Doban any day of the week. Or any Doban!"

At that moment, a group of three humans walked in, smirks across their faces. Gerhard didn't like the look of them, and it wasn't just their race.

"You need something, pirralhos?" he asked.

The middle man stepped forward; he was clearly the dominant of the three. "Heard this place makes a mean stew. We want food and ale and beds."

"And I want better driggers," Derk snorted.

"Maybe you should hire better driggers then," the man retorted. "So. Is our coin welcome here?"

Gerhard got up off his stool. "I got beds," he said. "I got ale. And I make the best maldido stew in the whole of Lucrecia. But I got nothing for you."

The men looked stunned. "What? But the rest of the city is booked up. There are no beds anywhere!"

"And I got no beds for you either, pirralho. Get out of my inn."

The three men stood there, swapping confused looks that slowly transitioned into anger. Clearly, they did not expect to be refused service.

But Gerhard was not going to waste any more time with them. He certainly didn't quite feel like going a few rounds with them. They were going to leave. Now.

He grabbed his stool with one arm and hurled it across the room. His handful of other patrons ducked, almost instinctively, as the stool flew over their heads and smashed on the wall beside the door. The humans, startled and alarmed at Gerhard's aggression and reckless regard for his own property, gave one last look of anger and despair before fleeing. Maybe one day they would come back with more friends. Gerhard figured they would clear out after the festival.

"You missed," Derk said, his attention still firmly fixed on his food. "Losing your touch, maybe?"

"Didn't feel like mopping up the blood," Gerhard offered.

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Kris rose with the sun. She bathed, ate breakfast with her father, and then left on her own. Today, she was in charge. It was the first time she had ever gone fishing without her father, but she thought it was time. Besides, yesterday had been a slow day and today would likely be the same. If she was lucky, it would be tough; the fish would be biting and the crabs caught in their pots. Otherwise, it was simply an opportunity to prove she could handle it. Female fishermen were extremely rare, even in Naithe; it was time she proved that she was worth just as much as any of the men.

She cast off from the docks, rowing against the gentle tide. She waved and smiled at the other fishermen starting their days, many of whom regarded her with confusion. Where was Duran Douglas? What was his daughter doing alone, rowing his boat out to sea? She would show them.

***

It was, as expected, a slow day. Her loose lines had caught a stray here and there, but the fish were avoiding the nets. The pots yielded a better haul, which balanced the day. Kris could feel her arms burning, from both the sun and the from rowing. She had only ever rowed half of their fishing boat; her father had always been her partner and had taken his half of the work. She could understand why he had wanted her out on the boats with him.

As she finished checking the last of the pots, Kris decided to take a detour. There was an inlet to the west, where the river met the coast, that she had once explored with her father on one of their first trips. Something -- an unknown force -- compelled her to check. Perhaps Kris felt the place had a certain significance; returning there on the day she succeeded on her first solo fishing trip would be a worthy marker of a journey come full circle.

So she rowed her boat, with one careful eye on her storage chests, along the coast line. The same brilliant sunset was starting to appear, spurring her onwards. Although the haul was average at best, Kris's day had lived up to the sunset's promise.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she spied something unexpected. A small boat, smaller than hers by at least half, was run aground by the river mouth. A single oar lay beside it, split into halves.

"By the gods of the sun and the sea..."

As fast as her tired arms would let her, Kris rowed over to the wreck. She dropped anchor on the beach and leapt out onto the shore, ready to investigate. There were no signs of footprints anywhere nearby, but they could have been washed away with the tide. Kris approached the boat cautiously. As she neared, she realised that there was somebody lying inside, seemingly unconscious.

"Hello?" she said. "Are you okay?"

Nothing.

The person inside -- it looked like a man, but she wasn't terribly sure -- was wearing a long, dark coat and breeches in a style she had never seen before. Their light, almost white hair was wet, and matted to their face. Kris couldn't see any signs of breathing, so she braced herself to climb into the boat. There was every chance this mysterious stranger was already dead, but if she could save them...

She had one leg in the boat when the figure sat bolt upright, scaring her half to death. Kris, involuntarily, screamed and fell backwards onto the damp sand.

Before she could get up, a hand was reaching down to help her.

"Bless," the voice said. "I did not mean to startle you. Are you injured?"

Kris accepted the help and brushed the sand off her pants. "I'm okay," she said. "I just... I was worried you were dead. I didn't expect you to jump so suddenly."

The stranger smiled. It was a warm, comforting smile, one that showed too much. Kris felt herself relax; this person was not dangerous. Not to her, at least.

"I am alive and unharmed," he -- Kris still wasn't sure -- said. "But unfortunately, I do not know where I am."

"You're near Naithe," Kris said. "My name's Kris, by the way. What's yours?"

"I am the one known as Ceres."

"Pleasure to meet you, Ceres," Kris said, extending a hand. Ceres regarded it curiously for a moment before taking hold. It was clear he didn't know what a handshake was.

"Where are you from?" Kris asked. "Your clothing is unfamiliar. Are you from Lucrecia? Further afield?"

Ceres shook his head. "These names are unfamiliar to me. I know where I am from, though I suspect I am far from there. You are unlikely to know it."

Confused, but not entirely shaken, Kris simply nodded. "Well, I don't think you should stay out here tonight," she said. "And your boat doesn't look in any shape to sail again. Why don't you come with me? You can stay with my family tonight, and perhaps my parents can help you find your way home."

"My gratitude, Kris. Please, lead the way," Ceres said with a flourish of his hand.

Kris turned for her boat. Today had been a special kind of day after all.

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Jacques rolled over to face the window. It was still dark out. He sighed - he fell asleep so early that he'd woken before sunrise again.

He lay there awhile, staring at the dark sky, which was almost indistinguishable from the dark sand. He tried to get a couple more hours of sleep. When he didn't have any luck, he decided to go for a walk.

He got out of bed, crept through the house and slipped out the front door. He crossed the veranda, the wooden boards smooth and cold against his bare feet. The stairs creaked, but hopefully not loudly enough to wake his dad.

Jacques wandered down to the beach. By the time he was on the sand, the sky was beginning to lighten slightly. He dipped his toes in the water and watched the fishermen as they rose in time with the sun. They appeared from their houses intermittantly, walking down to the dock, jumping into their boats and rowing out into the Deeps.

Among them, Jacques saw Kris. She walked down to the docks alone, hopped into her boat with happy enthusiasm and began heaving the oars through the water. I wonder where her dad is, Jacques thought as Kris rowed out with all of the men.

Now that the sun had fully risen, Jacques decided it was time to return home. He had to work with his dad today, which was never fun, and he didn't want to make that experience worse by not being home when his dad got out of bed.

Jacques walked through the front door and saw his dad rinsing a bowl in the sink. Jacques' face went pale. 'Hi, Dad,' he said.

'Where have you been?' his dad asked.

'I woke up early - I just went for a walk,' Jacques replied.

'If you woke up early, you should've continued working on that table for Ms Pan, you lazy merda,' his dad spat.

'I'll get to work on it as soon as I have breakfast,' Jacques said, walking into the kitchen.

'No, you had your chance to have breakfast and you didn't take it. You will get to work now. Come.'

Jacques' dad left and expected Jacques to follow. They walked together across the veranda, down the steps and into the workshop that was attached to the house. Inside were assorted lengths of wood, projects in varied stages of completion and tools scattered across a workbench.

Stomach rumbling, Jacques worked with his dad until mid afternoon.

Kathvi notably winced at the words as they were spoken by the Ursus. For Jahred, though, it was all he needed. If an Aelum did not recognise Kathvi's kind, then she was foreign indeed. He wasn't sure if the words spoken by the Aelum were intended as threatening - it was certainly not the kind of thing he was used to in his interactions with the Ursus - but they did carry a rather uninviting tone for certain. He bowed his head once more, thanked the two for their time and quickly ushered Kathvi away.

"It appears you are not from around here, or anywhere, Kathvi. Perhaps this is a good time for rest. The sun will set shortly, the festival will swing into full flow. Let us rest until then in an inn, gather our thoughts and then perhaps show you the festival if you wish. I believe after the festival people will not look at you as simply a person in costume, or someone from a remote area out of town." Jahred's mind raced. It was definitely a time for a gathering of thoughts.

Jahred took Kathvi to a nearby inn where he had a room booked. After settling her in, he quickly excused himself to help his men close up the stall. Preparations were clearly already in full flow. The dancers and tricksters had for the most part excused themselves, probably to rest before the big event. In their place were various people of various races pointing this way and that, setting up all kinds of art. A pair of chocobos pulled a wagon in with a bunch of Doban men, who quickly set about lighting the back of their wagon on fire. It seemed to be fairly controlled, and they rode it around to the center of the square and threw a couple of items into the bonfire which crackled in all kinds of manners. The sciences of the Doban were admirable indeed.

He nodded to his men who had moved their wares away and advised them to enjoy the evening, that he would be busy for the coming days and that one of the men should return the wagon to Akimolm whenever they were ready in a couple of days - their families would be expecting them. Jahred took his share of the earnings and looked back at the inn, concerned. Today was a strange day indeed. He couldn't shake the feeling that it would keep getting stranger. He shook his head and looked back at the masses of people around King's Square. Still, he thought, at least it's a merry mood and a good festival can always lift spirits.

He headed back to the inn and sat down on a chair. "So, Kathvi. Tell me anything else you can about where you're from. Close your eyes and try to remember... is there anything you did, any people you remember? Have you ever seen any of the kind that you see around here before? Humans? Akim? Doban? Ursus? What was it like in your mountains?"

The man and the fox-lady - Jahred and Kathvi - looked uneasy at Tala's remark. Jahred quickly excused himself and the pair walked away. First a talking bear, and now a fox-lady? Cohen wondered. This world is very curious, indeed!

'It seems I'm not the only one trying to find my home,' Cohen said. 'She looked lost too.'

Cohen looked around the street. There were people of various races he'd never encountered before, and others who looked human but who were dressed in strange outfits he didn't recognise. He was fascinated, but also terrified. And exhausted.

'Is there somewhere we can go and sit down? This has all been very draining,' Cohen asked.

Kathvi lay in the bed, trying to calm herself. She felt scared and threatened. Was she a freak? What would become of her? Where was her home. Just then, the door to her room opened and Jahred walked in. He sat down on a chair. "So, Kathvi. Tell me anything else you can about where you're from. Close your eyes and try to remember... is there anything you did, any people you remember? Have you ever seen any of the kind that you see around here before? Humans? Akim? Doban? Ursus? What was it like in your mountains?"

Kathvi closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Concentrate on any thought she could gather. "I remember..." she began, "I remember a snowy mountain. There were others... like me," she winced slightly. Her head seemed to be rejecting her memories and it was a fight to pull anything forth. "There were... humans. Humans along with my kind. And other kinds. All kinds of beings. I lived on the mountains but there were... others who lived elsewhere. Lizard like beings in the desert and," she struggled and could feel her heart pounding. "And I.... I don't know!" she screamed suddenly.

"It's okay, Kathvi. Just breathe and try to relax. Think about how you got here."

Kathvi let out a small whimper and tried again. She took a deep breath, and focused once more. "Okay, I was taking bread out of the oven. I don't like the oven, it's too hot. But I like the smell of the bread when it's fresh," this was one memory she could remember very clearly and fondly. "Then I brought it out, I was bringing it to... to..."

"Don't worry about that part, Kathvi," Jahred told her. "Just focus on what happened next."

"Okay, I was bringing the bread and I tripped. On a... stone or something. I fell and then there should have been ground but..."

"But...?" asked Jahred, now on the edge of his seat.

"I don't know!" she screamed. "I don't know and my head hurts and I can't think. I can't breathe!" she sat up abruptly. Jahred was disappointed but realized he couldn't keep pressing her. He didn't know what to do, and he didn't want to risk Kathvi being seen, but she obviously needed some way to calm down. He felt like they'd already pressed their luck enough for one day. He let out a big sigh.

"Let's go outside, get a bit of air," he suggested, hoping he wouldn't come to regret that decision.

Tala looked down at Cohen and noticed that he wasn't even looking at the Quiet Lobster; he was gazing across the road at a smaller, much seedier-looking inn.

'What is it, Human?' Tala asked.

'Can you smell that?' Cohen answered her question with another question.

Tala sniffed the air. 'Human food,' she said.

'It smells delicious. I've never smelt anything like it,' Cohen said.

'Fine, we'll go there instead then,' Tala said, exasperated.

The pair crossed the road. As they entered the inn, Cohen looked up at the sign. The Cornerstone Inn, the sign said.

The room was nearly empty. It smells even more delicious now that we're inside, Cohen thought. Why is there no one eating here? His stomach rumbled. He was starving.

The man behind the bar eyed the pair of them suspiciously, but stayed silent. Something about his gaze made Cohen uncomfortable. Cohen looked down at the ground instead to avoid feeling uncomfortable.

Tala led Cohen to a larger table against the wall, so she would have enough space to stand. Cohen sat down on a bar stool awkwardly. He'd never been in a bar before in his life - High Priests were not permitted to drink alcohol - and he felt like he was breaking a rule of the Order simply by being in a bar.

You have to eat though, he thought, trying to make himself feel better. And whatever they're cooking here smells amazing.

He thought about talking to the man behind the bar to order some food, but when he glanced over the man still looked remarkably unapproachable, so Cohen decided to sit with his rumbling stomach for a little longer. He turned to Tala. 'I know your name is Tala, and I know you are a talking bear, or an Ursus, or...' he thought back to the conversation he'd overheard earlier, '...or an Aelum - that's what they called you, isn't it? But what does all of that mean? Who are you?'

'A High Priestess?' Cohen asked happily. 'Like I said earlier - I'm a High Priest! I live at the university and I...' Suddenly Cohen felt a little homesick, talking about his university. What if he never got to see it again?

He looked out the window and saw that the sky was starting to get darker. If he couldn't find the university... Where am I going to sleep tonight? he wondered, frowning. I don't have anywhere to stay. None of my things. No change of clothes. Nothing. And I'm still incredibly hungry.

Cohen shook his head, clearing it. It doesn't matter if you have no where to sleep tonight, he thought. This is an incredible opportunity to discover a new world - somewhere none of the High Priests have ever been before, or at least as far as I know. I need to focus and continue asking questions.

'Sorry,' he said. 'If you are a High Priestess, do you communicate with the Gods? Do you have a meditation hall I could use? Maybe if I could speak to the Gods I could be granted guidance.'

Derk listened to Gerhard talk about all the customers he's had because of the upcoming festival, the good and the bad. Usually one would take what they could get, but Derk is of the same mind when it comes to Humans.

As Derk mulled over the many reasons he didn't like humans and drank his ale her heard 3 sets of footsteps enter the inn. Not heavy enough to be Ursus, no shouts for ale so not Doban, I don't smell sand so not Akim. Must be humans. Bah. Just then Gerhard spoke up.

"You need something, pirralhos?" Gerhard asked the humans.

"Heard this place makes a mean stew. We want food and ale and beds." One of the humans asked.

"And I want better driggers," Derk snorted and took a large bite out of his meat.

"Maybe you should hire better driggers then," the man retorted. "So. Is our coin welcome here?"

Maybe you should find better manners before old Ger here shows you why you don't talk back to a Doban in his own place of business Derk thought as he took a big swig of his ale and moved a little to the left, just in case.

Derk tuned out of the conversation and continued to eat his meat, but kept an eye on Ger, looking for any signs there may be a fight. Derk ducked down slightly when he saw Gerhard reach for a stool and smirked.

"You missed," Derk said, still eating. "Losing your touch, maybe?"

"Didn't feel like mopping up the blood," Gerhard offered.

"Well, perhaps you should have winged them anyway, eh? Humans are like young driggers, the only way to teach em is to smack every once and awhile." Derk reached into one of his many apron pockets and tossed a small gold nugget at Ger. "This is for the stool, and for entertaining me, even if it didn't end in a fight. Also, for another ale, this one.s empty." Derk empties his ale in one large swig.

Just then a large Ursus and a human in weird clothes walked into the Inn. Derk sighed and went back to eating, hoping this pair wouldn't cause any trouble.



************************************


Xilkar backed to the water until the waves lapped at his heels and stared cautiously at the small creature as it began to answers his questions and ask some of it's own.

"What sort of creature are YOU? I'm a human, of course! I'm on land because that's where all humans live! Why did you come out of the ocean? And why are you blue? I've only ever seen other humans! I've heard of Akim, but you don't LOOK like an Akim! What is that knife for? Oh, and I don't know how many of us there are...probably thousands! Millions! Who knows?"

Xilkar stands straighter as questions begin to be asked of him. "I'm a Loquan. A human you say? I've never heard of your kind before. I came out of the ocean for the same reason you're on land, that's where I live. But this ocean is not my ocean. This knife" Xilkar holds up his surfacing knife. "is for hunting land whales... and protection." Xilkar gasped at the number the little human said. Millions, there are millions of them, and Iv'e never seen them? This is wrong. this is so so very wrong.

Xilkar quickly turned and dove into the water and swam out to a depth where just his eyes were floating above the water, sill looking at the little human on the shore.