"My darling child, more precious than you could know,
remember mother's love as onward through life you go.
seek sweet light as day beams shine and breezes sing
then dream fondly of peaceful still the night doth bring.
If ever you find yourself lost or afraid,
remember, yes remember the path that is laid.
No matter the distance, the darkness, the despair,
the glow of the light of my love will be there."
The haunting melody of a long forgotten voice floated through his dreams. He heard it often in his sleep, but could never quite recall it upon waking up. In it, he sensed the warmth of a loving embrace, and could hear what he believed was affection in the tone of the voice's owner. He clung to sleep desperately, hoping to bask in the warmth he felt from the dream just a little bit longer knowing that as soon as his eyes opened, it would all be gone.
"Hey you! Get away from my shop!" A voice threatened to disrupt his single piece of comfort.
He knew he should heed it, but he wanted to remain in that warm place just a little bit longer. He wanted to commit that voice, that warth to memory to help better bear the burden of existing through his waking hours. Maybe, just maybe if he could remember her face, he could find this person and their love in the real world.
"I said, get away!" The voice shouted again.
The visage of the loving warmth shattered as he was hit by a rather cold, extremely foul smelling liquid. Though reluctant, he opened his eyes and quickly sprang to his feet. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time he'd be doused with the contents of a chamber pot, and he'd learned from several unpleasant past experiences that if he wasn't fast enough he might just get hit by the pot itself.
"That's right!" it turned out the voice belonged to a rather angry looking little fairy man. "Beat it you no good jinx!"
"The name's Zephyr," he grumbled as he trudged away. He had already gone far enough he doubted the shopkeeper had actually heard him. Not that it mattered. Nobody cared about him or his name.
Now that he was awake, there was little choice for him but to go about the tedious daily task of existing. unfortunately, his first order of business would be bathing... which meant there was a very likely possibility he would be going without breakfast. Even if he had money, they would never allow him into the bath houses. Inconsiderate, superstitious assholes. Consequently, in order to clean up, he would need to travel outside the city to reach the river. This meant he would have to pass the sentries.
"Hey, hey, just what do we have here?"
Of course. Of course Harold Green was on duty. It was already a rotten day, may as well throw him into the mix.
"Good morning Harold," Zephyr sighed. Typically, he preferred to remain silent. He hated the sound of his guttural voice that sounded more like a deep throated wheeze than spoken words. He had learned over the years, however, that Harold only got worse if he felt like he was being ignored.
"And just where do you think you're going, you walking trash heap?" he questioned. It seemed he was in one of his moods. Goody.
"Figured I may as well show myself out before someone decided to do so for me," Zephyr shrugged. He really just wanted this to be over so he could clean off. his own stench was driving him crazy.
"Now where's the fun in that?" Harold questioned, a dangerous glint in his eye.
There was just no winning with this guy. If you fought back, he got pissed off. If you didn't fight back he got pissed off. If you agreed with him, he got pissed off, and it was the same if you disagreed. Frankly, it seemed the asshole was determined to exist in a perpetual state of anger.
"Green!" Another voice barked. "Just what do you think you are doing?!"
Zephyr breathed a sigh of relief. Captain Alen Glenn had arrived on the scene. Now, he didn't like Zephyr any better than Harold did, but the captain was at least straightforward and prompt about it. None of the cruel, time consuming crap Harold instigated.
"It's my shift," Harold replied defensively. "I was guarding the entrance as is my duty!"
"It's not your shift, and you are clearly drunk," Captain Glenn snapped with a disdainful glare. Zephyr noticed with interest that he wasn't alone, but he didn't recognize the other person.
"It says right here, it's my shift!" Harold held up a piece of paper where he had apparently jotted down dates and times he was supposed to be on duty.
Captain Glenn looked as though he might just strangle the fool, and Zephyr had a pretty good idea why. Over the course of the years and his many unfortunate run-ins with Harold, Zephyr had come across the piece of knowledge that the guards on duty weren't allowed to keep written documentation of their shifts. It was sensitive information that could be severely detrimental to the city if any ne'er-do-wells got ahold of it. Zephyr had overheard many very loud lectures Captain Glenn had offered Harold on the subject.
"So, you must be the court Jester," the second person commented coldly. They presented themselves as a man, but there was something off about their aura.
"Excuse you?!" Harold bristled. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, four-eyes, but I'm the best damn knight on the squad!"
Zephyr held in his urge to snort. Harold wasn't a knight. He didn't even qualify for the position of page. No, Harold was a common foot soldier, one that the divisions passed around like a rotten hot potato. Captain Glenn looked as though he might die of embarrassment as he glanced furtively at the newcomer. Though it was unclear who they were, everything about them right down to the boldly displayed crest on the impressive looking breast plate of their chainmail to the noble bearing indicated they were someone important.
"Ah, I see, you're this division's dishonorable disappointment," The noble clicked their tongue derisively. "I've found every division has at least one. Captain Glenn, I understand you can only expect so much from this kind of fool, but remind him again, that time information regarding shifts and patrols is not permitted out of the barracks."
"It will be my pleasure," Captain Glenn said with a bow of his head while glaring daggers at Harold.
"Why the fuck are you listening to this pompous ass?!" Harold demanded. "The bastard's not even from around here! He's got no business ordering me around!"
"This is General Dylis Norwood," Captain Glenn spat, "Son and sole heir of the illustrious Norwood family, leader of the Pole Star Knights and commander of the Brightwood forces. If he asked for your head on a pike, I would not hesitate to deliver it! Now get your useless ass out of my sight!"
Harold looked like he wanted to argue, but Dylis placed a hand on the hilt of their sword. Like the coward he was, Harold fled, grumbling as he went. It was about this time all eyes turned on him. Perhaps he should have left while the leaving was good. Too late now.
"And who might this wretched creature be?" Dylis's eyes narrowed and their nose wrinkled. Given what Zephyr was covered in at that moment, he couldn't blame him.
"That..." Captain Glenn sighed. "Is Zephyr. He's nothing but a cursed beggar..."
"I see..." Dylis turned away. "No point wasting any time on him then."
Zephyr breathed a sigh of relief as they left. Finally, he could go clean up in peace. To his delight, the remainder of his excursion to the river was unimpeded. He tried to avoid thinking about how difficult it would be to get back inside the gates now that he was out.
It was always the more difficult feat.
"Are you really going to get in there?" A voice wondered. "It's autumn... the water is frigid."
"Ah, good morning Misty," Zephyr sighed. He rolled his eyes as the little winged creature buzzed into sight, along with a handful of her fellows. They loved to pester him, which was unfortunate because he was the only one who seemed to be able to see them.
"A greeting is not an answer," Misty commented. "By the way, you smell terrible today."
"You already answered your own question," Zephyr grumbled as he tested the water. Sure enough, it was icy to the touch, but it was either cold water or continue to walk around covered in bodily waste.
"you could get sick," Misty observed.
"I can handle a cold," Zephyr replied. "Better than an infection or worse anyway."
"Fair enough I suppose," Misty giggled.
Zephyr Tried to ignore her and her fellows as they watched him slide himself into the river. He was lucky, there was a decent current flowing, but it wasn't so strong it would whisk him away. Not if he was careful at least.
"Awe, you're not taking the loincloth off?" Another of the winged nuisances, Dew he believed her name was, complained.
He chose not to respond. The lot of them were mischievous little perverts, and he had no interest in being goaded into a pointless argument. They were just doing it to entertain themselves.
Zephyr used his whip-like tail--one of many features on his gnarled body that people found unnerving--to anchor himself in place as he quickly dunked himself and started scrubbing furiously. The sooner he freed himself from the filth, the sooner he could get out of the icy river and seek some form of warmth.
"It's a new record!" Twig, the only male in Misty's group, cheered as Zephyr hauled himself out of the river and started shaking himself off. The great leathery wings that hung limply from his back beat his arms with the force of his movement. It seemed a shame that the dull, colorless lumps of leathery flesh couldn't so much as provide a shred of warmth. Another of many ways they proved themselves useless.
"You can't ignore us forever, Zephyr!" Misty called as he began trudging back towards the city. "You'll have to reply eventually!"
She wasn't wrong. He had nobody else he could really talk to. And under different circumstances he'd indulge their boredom to assuage some of his own, but with a blood moon right around the corner he couldn't afford to be out in the wilds. If anyone were to witness him having a conversation with unseen creatures, who knew what strange and malicious rumors would spread? The last thing Zephyr needed was yet another reason for the rest of Sylvan society to villainize and further ostracize him.
"May I enter?" He asked quietly once he reached the gates. It was Ariel Seabreeze standing guard currently, and off all of the guardsmen he was one of the most level headed. Typically, if he was polite and submissive, Ariel wouldn't bar his way unless explicitly ordered to do otherwise.
"You just left," Ariel observed with a scowl. "Why go out at all if you immediately wanted to return?"
"I needed to bathe," Zephyr replied. He tried not to squirm under the guard's scrutiny. Like Zephyr, Ariel was capable of reading auras, so he could tell when someone was lying.
"Fat lot of good that did you," Ariel snorted. "Whatever though, you're free to pass. Be warned, however, I won't be so generous again. Autumn's gates are opening soon, and so the city is about to get very busy."
"Thanks for the warning," Zephyr dipped his head in a polite bow and hurried past. No, Ariel didn't like him any more than the others did, but at least his sympathetic nature drew him to try and be fair by some reasonable extent.
"Autumn's gates, huh?" Misty remarked. Apparently they were still following him. It must've been a slow day, they typically avoided the city. "Isn't that the entrance to that labyrinth that only very rarely opens?"
"Once every two years," Zephyr grumbled, "Not that it matters to us."
The labyrinth was one of many trials aspiring sylvans were required to take on the path to becoming the ruler of Sylvain... though technically their reach extended far past the borders of the kingdom to any person of Sylvan blood. Which was why this monarch was more traditionally called the fairy king or queen. Nobody was quite sure how many trials there were, but none had succeeded in passing more than six thus far. He had no business with that mess though, and he preferred to keep it that way. Most who walked that path were met with a cruel and often tragic fate.
"STOP! I ORDER YOU TO STOP NOW!"
Zephyr froze when, quite suddenly, her heard the enraged voice of Harold. He couldn't be sure where it was coming from, but if he was already that angry, then the second half of Zephyr's day was likely to be as miserable as the first.
"DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME?! I SAID STOP!"