"So, what's your name mister?"
"Raiten."
"Oooh. What's that mean?"
"I don't really know to be honest—"
"Cause my name's Dandy, after some flower or something."
"Oh. That's nice I gu–"
"I hate flowers. I want to be named after something cooler. Like… like Lightning!"
"I don't think that's a common name."
"Why not?"
"I guess it's just not something one names their kids after."
"Aw. Really?"
"Really."
"Damn."
"Dandy," the older man chides. She looks at him, confused. "Don't curse."
"But you curse all the time, Grandfather."
"It's different when I do it."
"Why? Is it because you're old?"
"Why you little brat—" the man pulls the little girl in with one hand and ruffles her hair teasingly. She starts giggling. I watch on from the back as the forest canopy clears away and the redness of leaves is replaced by a clear blue sky, pocked with light, wispy clouds.
The wind rustles long, yellow stalks of grass. I rest my head on the side of the cart and watch the valley pass us by.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a strange movement in the wind. Something flowing. I squint and make out a … carp? A wind spirit carp fish swimming along with a school of its brethren. It is quite a strange sight. The older man notices my wandering gaze.
"Aye the oceanic and lake spirits love this valley," the man murmurs. "I've seen my fair share of spirit gatherers hunt wind stingrays here."
"Huh," I respond.
"You're not really from 'round here, are you?"
I shake my head, reaching my hand up to graze the underside of a passing wind carp. When I touch its underbelly, I feel the ghostly sensation of softer skin, hidden in the guise of wind and spirit magicks. The carp swims away rapidly in the air, trailing after its brethren.
"You are right uh, sir…"
"Name's Erto."
"Right. I'm not from here, Erto, though I've seen this valley from afar many times."
"Is that so?" he says.
I consider telling him of my previous dwelling, but I forgo the notion. I do not know these people, friendly as they may seem. We are simply strangers.
I think about my next moves for a while as Erto discusses some trade terminology with a bored-looking Dandy.
The Boar Ranges are brutal mountains dense with spirits and monsters. It is the homeground of the famed Yamakiba clan, or so I've read. My limited education is quite the hindering factor now. At times during my imprisonment, I'd request for books or writing sources. Kai only granted those requests after I slew bigger monsters or packs. And he never gave me anything too substantial.
But now I am free. Free to read whatever I want. I hope to the universe that this village has a library.
…
Takemeadow lays nestled in the dip of a valley, next to a river that flows directly from the Boar Ranges. It has wooden walls and farmland outside, people tending to crops and wives gathering water in basins with their children.
It feels like flowering village — one that aspires to become a city. As we approach from the main road, militia men in leathers give us a familiar nod to enter through the gates.
"You've been here often?" I ask.
Dandy nods. "It's our home."
Oh.
"I thought you were traders."
"We are," Erot says, whipping the reins. "But, we need to stock up some extra supplies for winter. So at the behest of our mayor, we took to other villages and traded."
"Ah. I see." I was wondering why they would've come back with some barley, when it seems they obviously have the means to grow it for themselves. If winter is approaching, my timetable runs thin. I need to decide what to do soon. That's… annoying.
The town itself is quaint and comfy, dense with houses of brick and wood. Men weave rugs on the street, women carry apple baskets over their heads, children kick sacks of seeds between them in a game.
Dandy looks at them with wide-eyes. Erot rubs her apron-scruffed hair: "go on then, me and the lad will take care of unloading."
"Really?" she asks, stomping her feet in excitement.
"Yah, just this once. But next time, you work double-time you hear?"
"Oh thank you Grandpa!" She reaches up and gives him a kiss on the cheek before leaping off the wagon, chasing after the kids to play.
I smile at the sight. "You're a kind man," I tell him.
He scoffs. "Ah. I've seen monsters be kind to children — it is no big deal. The truly good men are people who are kind to all, ugly adults included."
We both chuckle at that.
He stops the cart near the center of the town, where there lays a dirt square and fountain well. We get off and start hauling the hay towards the large, black-wooded horse pen.
The hay is both heavier and lighter than I thought. For some reason I expected my innate strength built over the years to make this an easy task. However, it seems I still need some meat on my bones to make it so. Regardless, I do well enough in Erot's eyes, passing along the hay to the bald and bearded horsemaster.
"Mayor wants to see you Erot," the horsemaster says, nudging his head to the tallest building at the edge of the square. It is a tavern with warm-lit insides and a bustling atmosphere around it. Music lilts from its windows.
"Why? I've done my task, ain't I?" Erot asks. He seems perturbed by the summon, making me all the more curious as to whom this mayor might truly be. He sounds like an intimidating man.
The horsemaster furrows his bushy eyebrows and beckons Erot closer, to whisper. I don't hear what they say, but it leaves Erot quite perturbed.
Erot makes a grunt, pulling his hair back into a salt-and-pepper ponytail. He looks at me and notices, for once, a deeper scar embedded in my neck. It's as if he takes stock of me once again, re-evaluating my uses. It is a violating sort of gaze, but I let it pass.
"You a warrior, kid?"
I shake my head. He sighs. "I ain't trying to prod or anything and lying won't do you much good."
"I'm not a warrior," I reaffirm. Which is technically true. My previous occupation was enslavement.
"Yah, whatever it might be, can you join for a bit longer? It would be nice to have someone else around while speaking to our 'beloved' mayor."
I consider for a moment, my mind harkening back to the fact that I'm already wasting time if I want to pursue my vengeance. And do what? You need proper clothes to venture into the Boar Ranges and you'll definitely need to be properly fed. If you want any chance at vengeance, you have to be patient. Make a plan. Don't just pursue it blindly.
Afford some distractions. They will give you time to think and time to prepare.
I nod. "Sure."
Erot grunts again. He seems to like that form of communication. I follow as he trails off, walking to the tavern.
The music beckons louder. Some harp or Eastern instrument is played in concord with a woman's voice. As we enter the tavern, some eyes pass over us, specifically me in my dirt loins and foreign robe. I am for once, acutely aware of how bad my appearance must be. I shrink behind Erot and the tavern-goers quickly ignore me, watching instead the woman dancing on the tabletop.
She taps her feet to the beat of the song, singing with a beautiful voice. Her green dress flows with every spin and movement, and sweat drips from her long black hair. A brilliant smile plasters her face.
"When the storm did scream and the flames they dreamed of a death beyond our halls,
And the war grows bleak and the frail go weak, so the end shall come for us all,
But at last we say we shall break away until night befalls our walls."
She holds that last note for an impressively long time, eliciting whoops and cheers from the audience. Then, someone sitting and sloshing his drink begins beating it against a table. The others follow, beating and clapping as the tune ramps up.
Then, they all begin singing along with her.
"So come and see what a world we weave when the sky does shine unmarred,
And the war grows bleak and the frail go weak, so the end shall come for us all,
But we'll scream and shout and we'll give a fair rout
Till the enemy does fall!"
The clapping and singing and melody crescendos and with one sweeping bow, the act ends. Everyone whoops into cheers and laughter. Even I can't help but smile. Such dances and songs were not so permitted in the Adachi clan. Ours were more conserved: slow dances and slower melodies.
This was something else.
The woman steps off the table, assaulted by a tirade of compliments from young men and women and of course, a gathering of children. She smiles and picks a boy up over her shoulder, moving outside with the children and speaking to them in kind tones.
"That was nice. But where's the mayor?" I ask, looking at Erot. He grimaces.
"You're staring at her boy," he says.
I look between her smiling form and his face for a few moments. Then, I can't help myself.
I laugh.
"I have so much to learn," I say. He gives me a pat on the back.
"Don't we all?" There is no humor or joy to his voice though. And I wonder once more who this mayor is to make Erot so apprehensive of her.
We approach her as she swings a boy around by his ankles, the other children forming a circle around them. The rest of the bar goes back to their drinking and small-talk, and the lute player changes the song to a more background-centric track.
The mayor notices us approaching and sets the child down, patting his giggling head. She tells the children something I don't hear and they go run off, waving her goodbye.
Then she turns to us, white smile, green eyes. She takes a seat on one of the outside table benches and beckons us to join her.
"Come now, Old Erot. It has been a while."
We take our seats across from her. Erot looks stiff. I am also on guard.
She's all smiles though. "I see you've brought back a guest."
"Yah," Erot said, jabbing a thumb at me. "Picked him up on the road."
"Oh how very kind of you," she says. Then, she pauses, looking at me expectantly. A few seconds of awkward silence pass before I answer.
"My name is Raiten."
"Raiten? That's quite the peculiar name," she notes, resting her head on her palm. "Hmm. You wouldn't happen to be from Clan Sorayvlad, would you?"
I am startled that she even knows of that clan. What business would this Westerner have with that brutal clan? Yet, then again, I had heard tales of Sorayvlad calming down over the past few years, expanding their provinces through multiple marriages with the Western nations. Perhaps she knows of them through such unions. Either ways, this woman is already proving to be dangerous. I hold back a grimace.
"No, I am not," I answer slowly and with some finality.
"Oh. Good," she nods. She really is quite pretty. I can't imagine how many suitor offers she's gotten, considering her position in this quaint little town.
"Why do you ask?" I prod. She tucks her hair back behind her ear.
"Oh, no reason," she says, closing her eyes. "It's just that, if you said yes, I'd have to kill you."
She says it so seriously, I almost think she means it. But then she laughs a bubbly sort of laugh and points at me.
"Your face is quite telling. I like this one Erot. Keep him."
"He's not my slave, Sorina," Erot murmurs. Sorina huh? That's also a peculiar name.
"Of course not, Erot of course not. Heavens forbid I make a joke and you laugh at it."
Erot grunts. "Over my dead body."
"Oh I can arrange that old man."
"Please stop threatening my benefactor," I say, waving a protective hand over Erot. She looks my way, grin broadening.
"Ah I see now. So he's your bodyguard then?"
"Just get on with it, Sorina. Ask what you want to ask so I can go home to my daughter."
"Oh alright alright. You two are no fun. I suppose you're made for each other," she winks. Then, she sets her elbows on the table, interlocking her fingers. Sorina's smile disappears altogether. "Now then, onto business. Tell me Erot, what have you found out from the other villages?"
Ah I see it now. I look at Erot with a more critical eye.
He's her spy.