putting this here for the stray person that glances at my stuff. I write dungeons and dragons fic, and oc fic. will I stray into different fandoms and come out screaming, perchance yes. i hope this explains the different things I post.
everything related to the golden city is part of a long fic dedicated to an old dungeons and dragons game world I played in, with my own twists to it.
the random fics of these characters with wings and stuff started from very humble fandom beginnings BUT beyond that, it's my own original universe now, and I only write snippets of the longer story. snippets are from various writing prompts.
no smut. fluff romance only!
i write "angst" although idk how angsty it really is.
prompt: person a slaps person b on the head only to realize that this is NOT their best friend + person b deathly glaring
I’m going to marry her one day.
this makes no sense without universe context but I will give NONE huzzAH
Thae whistled with dull eyes as she glanced around the “hive”. Some hive it was. Feeling an upcoming knot in her back, she arched backward until the telling crack released all the pressure from her spine. Sighing in relief, Thae grimaced. Her life was all about racing. To where? Even Thae couldn’t tell you. But she appreciated the speed and made it her life. She always jumped forward, fast, and no one could say otherwise.
And that primary trait of hers was crowned by her wings. Until six months ago.
She twisted to rub at the gaping emptiness on her back. Ever since the incident, her body had difficulty adjusting to the change. One thing she never noticed about her wings was that they were heavy. Yes, the weight on her back may be lighter, but it was unbalanced. Unbalanced meant constantly stretching to relieve her new “shrimplike” posture.
Without her wings as a counterbalance, she was no better than a shrimp.
She was also incredibly hungry. Shrimp sounded tasty right now.
Breath hitching, she swerved out of the way of an incoming tank. Gods, this place was so busy.
Everywhere she looked, it was like an abstract painting. Complete and utter chaos. The tank that nearly killed her had no set road to travel, and people were working on it as it was rolling. Along the walls were separate pods framed in yellow for the engineers of the city to do whatever they’d like. The symphony of crackling electricity, metallic thumps, and constant yelling faded into a comforting buzz. Anything technology and machines related, it was right here in the heart of the city.
The only place where time seemed to slow was whenever Kythaela came into sight. She wasn’t blind. She could see their eyes glaze over at her aggressive features, numerous limbs, and all. Even more pointed were the sharp looks and the questions that bubbled up at the emptiness stamped clearly on her back. Was she a small Lierai or a wingless Paxii?
Thae scanned the room for Mea. Mea said to meet her here for a surprise, yet as expected she was late.
Thae huffed, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was her penchant after all. Always came in late to save the day, with her foul mouth in tow. Thae could almost burst from how much fondness she had for that short stack.
Speaking of the short stack, Thae’s eyes narrowed as she spotted the familiar pale blue-striped hair of the little lady. Grinning, Thae stalked towards her, making sure her footsteps weren’t heard.
Something in Thae’s senses warned her something was wrong. Mea always put her hair up in a braid, not a bun. And when in the workplace she was seldom seen in more than a sleeveless vest and cargo pants. In front of Thae, Mea appeared to be wearing a customary Kin’ol wear. Those thoughts abated as Thae assured herself that Mea was simply back at home.
Without a warning, Thae lightly hit the back of Mea’s head with her palm, snickering, “Hey short stack, I thought princesses were supposed to be punctual!”
The blood drained from Thae’s face as Mea turned around to reveal it was in fact, NOT Mea. Shit. Thae laughed nervously as the figure gave her a deadly glare. What have you done now Kythaela, Thae groaned internally, backing away from the woman. “Sorry sorry, you just look so,” Thae paused to look at the woman. No, it wasn’t Mea. Her features were softer, still clad with the muscles of a Kin’ol engineer, but softer. She carried Mea’s nose, eye color, and eyebrow shape, even down to the markings that decorated her face.
Thae mentally noted that she might have to get her number later, but further beat herself up over a bad first impression. Curses. Love is truly out of reach.
“So, what???? Short?” The woman snapped, the workers she was speaking with backing away in wide-eyed terror. “You better have a good goddamn reason to disrupt me like this.”
She’s fouled mouth too? It’s Deja vu. “Please, Your Highness I’m assuming,” because after all, the telltale marks on her face signify her similar royal status, “I was only-“
“Don’t pull that your highness bullshit on me. Kacrariv’s are always stumbling around here, messing up my shit,” The woman folded her arms, eyes narrowing further. “so you BETTER have a good reason to annoy me.”
Thae scoffed, “For YOUR information, miss uncultured and uninformed, I am a PAXII. I pray your gods know what their prized diplomat is doing to people from other planets.”
Thae tucked away the image of the color draining from her face. Enjoyable, yes. Diplomatically correct as a representative of the Kacrariv nation on Thae’s part? Well, relations with the Kin’ol were as strong as they ever would be. Thae could save her charms for elsewhere.
“THAE!” All the tension left Thae’s body the moment she heard Mea’s voice.
“Oh gosh, Nylin, I’m so sorry for her insolence.” Thae felt a pinprick of pain in her leg and Mea tried to kick her.
Thae spoke through gritted teeth, tense once more. “If someone hadn’t been late, maybe I would’ve been kinder. Just a thought.” Thae was screaming, cringing, crying perchance? This was crown princess Nylin of the Kin’ol and Thae had just called her racist?
Nylin’s eyes became thoughtful as she scanned Thae up and down.
Mea cleared her throat, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t here to introduce you both, but this is Kythaela, former leader of the resistance on the Pacific coast, and-“
“Oh, no need to introduce her more. Your letters said quite enough.” Nylin continued to stare down Thae, although there was something new about this look.
Mea flushed and Thae turned to wink at her. Mea glared and promptly whacked Thae in the arm. And this is Nylin, crown princess as you’re aware from the guides I sent you. My favorite sister-“
“Only sister, but the best one in existence.”
“And the genius behind your new wings!
Silence pervaded the space as Thae’s brain began short-circuiting. Thae’s lungs felt depleted of air, her whisper barely audible against the buzz of the hive. “New wings?”
Nylin’s gaze softened. “New wings.” She shifted her gaze to Mea. “They won’t feel like your old ones. I know nothing ever will.”
In her panic, Thae flicked a glance at Nylin’s mechanical hand. It was so delicately engineered, that it nearly blended into the rest of her body. It was seamless, that’s what it was. A sense of understanding came to Thae.
“But in every other sense of the word, they will be the same, just metallic. Same weight, same strength. If anything, you can experience the same speeds you flew at your prime racing career.”
Thae quirked a brow. “You’re a fan of that out of everything?”
Nylin shrugged, chuckling. “I’m a fan of everything. You’re a hero here.” From her tablet, she pulled up a life-sized model of Paxii wings. Thae’s wings. “So, hero, let’s get you a new set of wings.”
Mea silently placed her hand on Thae’s shoulder as Thae leaned into her touch. It was like looking into a mirror. “Mea, is this real?”
Nylin rolled her eyes. “You’re questioning my skills?”
summary: a war veteran remembers his fallen lover, to a fate he is too guilty to admit
Rolen winced, bending over in pain. It was a rather scorching day, the sun beating overhead with its blinding rays. A sticky haze pervaded the air. Everything seemed to wilt from the immense heat. The hot spell even seemed to have messed with Rolen’s head. He stood in a clearing, with a target on the far side, and arrows noticeably everywhere but the target. For about half an hour, Rolen had been practicing his aim, failing to hit the target whatsoever. Frustration really started to take hold of him, worsening his aim further. How was he supposed to represent the wood elves, if he couldn’t even hit a target correctly? Rolen swore his aim was much better yesterday. Through gritted teeth, he cursed at the unbearable heat of the Sun Elf lands. At least, he still had his trusty dagger.
Gripping his arm, he assessed the damage. A burning sensation prickled the skin on his forearm. The skin where the string struck him was tender and started swelling red. It was a bad burn. He groaned as laughter erupted from behind him.
“Half a century,” the figure behind him continued cackling. “And you still don’t know how to use a bow.”
“I know how to use a bow, thank you very much!” Rolen retorted, softly gripping the afflicted spot on his arm. “It just… needs some work.”
“See, I told you to use the arm guard. Oh, the struggles of being a daft century something. I simply can’t relate.”
Rolen rolled his eyes. “Varan, we’re the same age.”
“I said daft century something,” Varan sauntered over to where Rolen was kneeling over. “Not just any normal century something.”
“Well you’re one to talk! Which one of us has an ugly scar covering half his face then, eh?”
“Yet you still hold the bow too tight,” he grinned. “Like a daft century something. And I still look better than you, what with your resting orc face.” Varan contorted his face into a terrible impression of Rolen, scowling dramatically, with eyes narrowed, and lips pouted.
“Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Rolen fought a chuckle at his ridiculous face. Varan could be utterly absurd at times. “Lucan will be expecting us back soon.”
“Not with that, we’re not.”
To Rolen’s surprise, Varan gently took his hand, facing the burn towards him. Muttering a few words of enchantment, the injury seemed to disappear under his hand. Where the skin was once red and swollen, it was now smooth, like nothing had ever happened.
Rolen peered wide-eyed at Varan’s little trick. Magic was something Rolen could never really wrap his head around. It was a piece of nonsense in his orderly world, making things appear and disappear when they shouldn’t, somehow causing destruction and chaos and at the same time, providing life and healing. Making the impossible happen. Yet moments like these made him really appreciate magic, at least a little bit.
“Neat, eh? I’ve been practicing it over the last couple of months,” Varan teased at Rolen’s smiling face.
“Yeah yeah, how do I know my arm won’t turn into a mushroom like last time?” Varan was a Druid’s apprentice, running errands, doing internships, and learning the art of magic along the way. He was a good Druid, Rolen could admit that. But he still teased Varan of the accident a couple years ago, when he got overconfident in his abilities.
Varan scoffed at that remark. “Honestly Rolen, what do you take me for, a novice?”
Rolen could only laugh. “Maybe-”
His chortle was cut short as Varan raised the back of Rolen’s hand, gently pressing his lips against it. Varan grinned at Rolen’s flushed expression.
“Aww, have I succeeded in making Rolen speechless? Impossible!” Varan chuckled, pulling Rolen closer, turning his face towards him while Rolen attempted to avert his gaze. Rolen tried to recalibrate, gain back control of the situation. But Varan’s stupid bright green eyes and soft smile had entranced him.
“Now that’s not fair.” Rolen whispered quietly, leaning in to peck his lips on Varan’s forehead. Even at the smallest touch, Rolen became flustered, and annoyingly enough, Varan took advantage of it every chance he got. However hot he felt before, it wasn’t comparable to this.
It was difficult to admit. Varan made him weak.
But Rolen wasn’t unhappy about it.
Resting his head on Varan’s shoulder, he soaked in the rays from the sun. It had been a long time since they were allowed to rest. For three weeks, their squadron had been marching to the very edge of the nation non stop to aid the Sun Elves. Of course, Rolen took pride in doing his duty to help his fellow elf kin. Ecstatic almost, contrary to many of the other people in his village. Then again, they were to work alongside despicable half elves and disgusting orcs, but oh well. What was an elf to do?
This isn’t our war. We shouldn't waste our strength on them. What a shame, choosing to exhaust our youth. Rolen had heard their backhanded whispers, concerns and selfishness. He simply came to fulfill a duty, alongside him and his compatriots. The sun elves decidedly needed their help. And if Rolen was the only one willing to have a hand to help, so be it. Thank Za that the clans decided to send more forces as well.
He wondered what Varan thought of the journey. After all, despite his jeers at Rolen, Varan was a very peaceful elf.
Rolen opened his mouth to speak, but out of the blue, Varan shot up. Rolen looked at what he was staring at. Squinting at the sky, his eyes widened. Flying bits of blackened flecks floated gently towards the ground. One landed in the palm of Rolen’s hand. Rubbing it between his fingers, a black smudge appeared.
Soot. The air was tinged with a burning scent. Dark clouds of smoke started to curl up in the sky, casting a dark shadow all around. Rolen and Varan looked at each other in fear. Something was wrong.
“Rolen! Varan!” A figure called towards them in the distance.
Rolen stood up. “Delvor. What’s happening?”
Delvor raced to them, panting heavily. “We’re needed. The Village of Honeybrook just sent for help.”
...
The wind howled against Rolen’s ear, as they raced on horseback towards the village. His heart pounded. Smoke unfurled in the now red sky, almost taunting them with the promise of death lying ahead.
“I see it!” Delvor rode next to Rolen. He galloped faster towards the speck of black at the end of the path. Rolen followed suit, urging his steed to ride faster. Those people needed help as soon as possible.
He was afraid of what he might find once they arrived. Stories of the ruthless Dragonborn rushed through his head, whispers of the rain of ash wherever they walked, tales of the flames that followed, and the savagery that surrounded them. Rolen shook his head, jostled by the pounding of the horse’s hooves against the ground. Honeybrook was but a rural village, with nothing but civilians. It was not a military stronghold, but a mere peaceful settlement. If the Dragonborn were truly as honorable as they claimed, at most they would have left them alone, save an act of intimidation or two. After all, the real threat they had to worry about for now was the force sent to aid the village.
And if they weren’t honorable? Why, Rolen couldn’t bear the thought.
Ahead, Delvor finally pushed to a stop. But the smoke reached Rolen’s lungs first. Coughing, Rolen leaped off the horse to see what Delvor stopped for. He sat still upon his horse, quietly taking in the scene in front of him, a somber expression etched on his face. Rolen followed his gaze, and couldn’t help but freeze as well. For in front of them stood the village, or what he assumed, once was. The whole settlement was completely destroyed, crushed, and burnt to a crisp. Only the bare skeleton of the structures remained, blackened and crumbling. Red embers glowed from the scorched land. And not a villager in sight. They were too late.
Rolen kept walking towards the village, ignoring Delvor’s pleas to wait for the rest of the force to arrive. A cold shiver pricked up his spine at the sight of the village. It wasn’t exactly what he expected when he signed up for this.
Gawking around at the destruction, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. A small rattle sat quietly on the ground next to another scorched home, the handle broken off and smashed into pieces, with the clay charred. It belonged to a child. Or once did. Now, Rolen wasn’t too sure.
Bending down to pick it up, he examined it further. The once bright red was now faded, with scorch marks covering the surface. Intricate designs on the small toy were reminiscent of Rolen’s own. Small and faded paintings of flowers and vines, dotted with spots of gold decorated it. Someone must have loved this child enough to make the art so intricate. Or loved them enough to buy them such a nice handcrafted gift.
And for what?
Sighing, Rolen tossed it back onto the ground. Behind him, the rest of the group arrived, taking in the scene, with the wailing wind, and the crackle of the ongoing fires elsewhere.
His commanding officer called out from his horse, “Spread out! Search for survivors!”
Going further and further into the destroyed village, Rolen got more and more distraught. Corpses littered the area, the stench of death wafting through the air alongside the smoke. In front of Rolen laid one of the deceased. His features were completely melted and burnt off, leaving only a blank stare, gazing at Rolen. Blood splattered the walls and ground nearby, soaking his clothing, with arms and legs nowhere to be found. Rolen gulped at the sight of him, feeling dizzy. His vision blurred at the sight. Grimacing, Rolen stepped lightly over the body, praying to Za.
Nearby was another home, the walls and roof completely destroyed, falling into a pile of rubbish on the wood floor. Suddenly, part of the pile began to shift. Rolen stepped back in surprise, and ran over.
Stepping closer to the spot, Rolen peered at the jostling stack.
“Are-, are they gone?” A voice whispered from within.
“Yes,” Rolen exhaled. It wasn’t an enemy. “You’re safe now.”
Hearing sighs of relief from within the little hideout, Rolen called out, “Help! We’ve got survivors!”
A couple others ran over to aid Rolen. Lifting up the debris, he spotted a small hole in the ground where they hid. Three sun elves were inside, one adult and two young children, covered in a thick layer of soot and dust. Coughing from the dust cloud that arose from disturbing the pile, Rolen held out his hand to them.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m quite fine,” the woman said, standing up, before wincing and crumpling to the ground. There were audible gasps at her injury. A bloody cloth fell from her hands, revealing a large chunk of flesh missing from her leg, as if it was scooped out, the rest of it blistering and burnt. Because the cloth holding the blood in had fallen, blood started spilling onto the ground. The children started to get concerned, attempting to give the cloth back to the woman.
Eyes widening, Delvor grabbed Rolen. “She needs a healer.”
Nodding, Rolen ran off to find one. His stomach twisted in knots at the thought of running about in a place that stunk of death. Of destruction and chaos to the extreme. How anyone could stomach the capacity to do such things was beyond Rolen.
By the end of the hour, they found the rest of the survivors, some that hid in the nearby woods, others that had also stowed in small hidden holes.
Rolen collected water, passing it out alongside others and to the villagers.
“What happened?” Lucan questioned them softly.
The woman from before coughed wildly, looking up at Lucan. “They took everything.” Her voice wobbled, tired and sucked of life. “They destroyed anyone, and anything in their path. Neither gold nor silver could tempt them to stop. Yet all we had to offer were crops from this year’s harvest.”
The rest of the villagers sat in silence, trying to find comfort in each other’s company, giving grim looks at the soldiers.
“We’re just peasants. We don’t know what they wanted.”
“Don’t worry. This war will be over soon enough. The Sun Elves have finally gathered enough forces to crush the Fire Empire.” Lucan’s gaze hardened. “They will listen to reason once they see our strength.”
“You don’t understand!” The woman set down her cup abruptly. “They’re Dragonborn. They won’t listen to reason. They’ll stop at nothing to achieve their means. How many more do you think will die before we put this war to an end?”
She glared at Lucan, lip trembling. “How many!”
Another villager patted her softly on the back. “My husband-,” her voice cracked. “I don’t know if they’ve taken him away to a prison camp, or, or-”
Rolen walked away as the woman fell silent. His stomach twisted at the sight of the burning wreckage, and the dead corpses, alongside the woman’s injuries and the broken rattle. Most of those villagers would be disfigured for life. He never wanted this. Rolen tightened his fist. He couldn’t fathom what kind of monsters would do this. To attack civilians, of all things. How could the Dragonborn manage to do such things without a second thought, really was beyond him. It would only take real monsters, savages, to do what they’ve done without a second thought.
He glanced at Varan a little while away, helping alongside the other healers, distributing makeshift bandages and supplies. Varan spotted Rolen, giving a little wave, with a small smile that disappeared as fast as it formed.
“Varan!” A voice called.
“Coming!” Varan rushed away towards them, leaving Rolen standing alone, in the midst of chaos, the woman’s words circling in his mind. The Dragonborn are of a cruel culture, the scum of the earth. Worse than half elves, worse than orcs, humans, the whole lot of them. How many more would die at their hands, before the Confederacy would manage to stop them? Would there be light at the end of this war?
Rolen simply didn’t know, only faced with only the promise of battle brewing, of conflict with sword and flame. Patting his trusty dagger, he stalked away to see if he could help with anything else, an empty bucket still dripping with water in his hand. At this point, he couldn’t think about that. Right now, all that mattered was that Rolen do his part, his duty to the village, and the elf confederacy. First and foremost, he was a soldier, willing to do whatever it took to rid the world of the atrocious plague that was the Dragonborn.
…
“Ugh, it’s like we’re in a completely different city! Where are we going?”
Shortsighted Eryn and her laughable “values”.What right does she have to deny the truth that stands right in front of her, Rolen seethed, fists balling. She might as well be half breed scum, the despicable being she is. The mere thought of Eryn’s existence, alongside her beloved dragonborn, was enough to make Rolen’s stomach twist into knots. Grumbling, he leaped over a grime covered piece of fallen wall.
Of course, it was his own fault for expecting so much of her. Why, Rolen was surprised at himself for a split second, daring to hope Eryn had grown out of that idiotic phase, but to no avail.
Rolen cursed under his breath as he tripped over a pile of debris. He didn’t have time for such distractions. He gritted his teeth. His skin was crawling from the mere thought of this cursed place, much less being right in the middle of it. Everywhere, random pieces of debris and abandoned items were strewn about. Trash, discarded weapons, tents, ragged clothes, and Rolen didn’t even want to know what those dark foul smelling piles were made of.
They were close. Too close for Rolen’s comfort, although he wouldn’t exactly call this little venture that. Rolen wanted to run away, heart pounding faster and faster as they went. Every foot, every inch closer, memories flooded his brain. He could barely look around, keeping his head bowed. Sunken eyes stared at the pair from the shadows, whispers and murmurs filling the air. A place once so lively, filled to the brim with vivid colors. Rolen could almost recall it, somewhere much different from how it was now. Now, it stood hollow and empty, a scar of the war that raged the continent. Something found within all the lands ravaged by war. A scar no one bothered to heal.
“What happened here?” Rolen could hear Eryn’s silent gasp, jolting him out of old memories.
“This,” Rolen turned to Eryn, “is your beloved Dragonborns doing. Almost enough to justify a war, no?”
In front of them stood a section of the prodigious wall that surrounded Urgshire. And in the middle of it, a wide gaping hole was poised, almost out of place. Adorning the bare edges of the void was a jet black substance that seemed to suck the life out of the area. Centuries old poison that continued to flow, dripping onto the cobblestone ground. The vines that grew over the hole, sinking their roots into the seemingly endless ink black seemed close to disintegrating. All around, Rolen could spot tricksters, thieves, scavengers who have gone desperate, unable to leave the dreaded lower ring. Bodies laid around, waiting to die, pale and thin, fragile enough that they could wither away from a light breeze. Their eyes, as sunken and hollow as the hole they called home.
“Rolen.” Eryn’s voice sounded stricken.
Rolen followed her gaze to an almost endless line of elves, some barely old enough to drink mead. At the very front there was a wooden stump, stained with blood.
“Come! Drink your poison right here! Feeling down?” A vendor shouted from a supposed execution block, wiping off the scarlet stains on a rusty battle axe. “Why not end it all right here, in the most glorious place in the city! Half off for a clean chop!”
“What’s going on?” Eryn gulped, looking to Rolen for answers.
“Grief lines. For those that…” Rolen looked away, “can’t handle this life.”
Eryn stared straight ahead as they heard the sickening swing of the axe, and the crunch that followed, flinching in unison.
“No, no.” Eryn shook her head, speaking in a hoarse voice. “What one nation can be the cause of such a vile place? Why bring me here?”
“Denial. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” Rolen grumbled. “But this encapsulates what the war was like. It was no war. It was a massacre.”
“But the stories! Books that tell of glory and, and how we crushed them like bugs! Not-,” Eryn gestured all around her, “this!”
Rolen narrowed his eyes. “The stories tell nothing of how shattered the elf lands were offset by the surprise attacks. The sun elves are afraid to be shown as anything but weak and off guard. It was always a close call.”
“Surprise?”
“Massacres. Village after village, I have watched too many burned to the ground, and cursed, just like this place.”
“There is no way those attacks went unprovoked-,”
“But they did.”
“That doesn’t make sense!”
Rolen pinched the bridge of his nose. “They did, because they are monsters! They aren’t supposed to think straight. Logic doesn’t work with monsters,” he spat. “Those friends of yours steal, corrupt, and destroy without notice. Why look at this lousy group you surrounded yourself with.” Rolen threw his hands into the air. “Using tainted magic to get their way! Why can’t you see the Dragonborn for what they are! Look around you!”
Eryn stayed silent, pursing her lips. Rolen exhaled. “You can’t justify this behavior, no matter how you look at it. Everyone who does is a threat to our safety. Humans, dwarves, orcs, and the like, everyone but elves seem to agree that we somehow deserved this.”
Rolen placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping she would finally come to terms with him. “From day one, all I have taught you is that we must look after one another. It does no good to mingle with others unlike us. We best look out for our own kind.”
“No.” Eryn brushed off Rolen’s hand. “I refuse to believe the world has it out for us. We can’t just assume that everyone is terrible or capable of such destruction.”
“Have you been-?”
“Yes, I have, and I still think you’re wrong. Again, we can’t assume such vile ideas.”
“Vile? It’s the truth, it was war Eryn! We don’t have time to pick and choose, deciding who’s good and who’s not, not with so much at stake!”
“Well welcome back to the present Rolen!” Eryn retorted back, smiling darkly. “This is a time of peace, uneasy or not, it is up to us to let it continue. That generation of Dragonborn has long since died out. And this new one has been growing under scrutiny and hate.”
“Aw, so sad, I’m bad for not forgiving a clan of murderous monsters for committing war crimes?” Rolen glared. Eryn was being unreasonable. The evidence was right there, and still, nothing. He grumbled, crossing his arms. “Peace talks won’t work, all this talk of coming together as one unit will never work. You cannot reason with terrorists. You think we haven’t tried?”
“And where is this sense of superiority going to get us? Because your brain can’t comprehend it, they are dead,” Eryn snapped at Rolen. “We can’t pin old crimes on innocents with nothing but association to justify it. If they didn’t despise us then, they definitely do now, because of idiots like you. This time it will not be an unprovoked war, and tell me then which ideas helped fuel it.”
“That’s still no excuse to wage war.”
“When the world moves on, you’ll be left behind.” Eryn shook her head, walking away from Rolen, towards the palace. “Alone, bitter and broken from a war too long ago for any to remember, we’ll be made a laughingstock.”
“It was an elf!” Eryn paused to look at Rolen who was pulsating with rage. “The siege of Urgshire began not because of the Dragonborn, but because of an elf that believed peace could be achieved with them. An elf like you. And he was punished for attempting that amnesty you so covet! Killed and left to starve by those he thought friends. It was his fault for putting our kind at risk, for this!” Rolen pointed at the large crater. “There is nothing more dangerous than trust in the unknown!”
Eryn scoffed, “You can’t call people the unknown. Adversity only produces more hate, more war, and suffering. You are hurting people. That is where the real danger lies.” Eryn turned away, marching back to the palace at a quicker pace. Rolen kicked a nearby can in anger, its contents splatting all over the wall. Bystanders gawked at him, curious, some staring at his shiny dagger.
“Degenerates.” Rolen scoffed. He looked back to Eryn’s quickly fading figure as she headed towards the palace. How dare she walk away. It felt too familiar, that conversation. A conversation too long ago to remember. It was almost as if..
No. Rolen should be glad to see her walk away, for that was his final goal wasn’t it? He had finally gotten her to leave him alone. Alone. Now that was a word mentioned too much for Rolen’s liking.
When this ordeal was all over, Rolen would find more than enough evidence to get Eryn out of the way. To stop her and her dangerous ideals. Even if that meant he could never see his cousin again, he would say good riddance. Rolen scratched his head. It was hard to remember they were cousins. For all his talk about looking after his own, why is he pushed to abandon his own family? How could Eryn hurt him like this, like so many years ago. Rolen walked back to the tavern from before, avoiding the shifting eyes in the pitch black.
“Back again? And this late?” The sun elf barmaid looked up at Rolen’s entrance, whilst sweeping the floor.
“This is an all day all night tavern is it not?” Rolen said, pulling out a rickety chair from a table.
“And you would be correct. What can I get you?”
Rolen looked around at the place. Only a few stragglers remained, the tavern more dim and lifeless than before.
“Just a glass of water and some bread will suffice.” Rolen took out his coin bag.
Waiting for his order to arrive, Rolen thought over that debacle with Eryn. Of course she was wrong, she had to be. Eryn was a danger, plain and simple, and so were the Dragonborn. Rolen massaged his head, a migraine engulfing him. Hurting people. Rolen didn’t care if he hurt the feelings of war criminals that Eryn couldn’t understand. Of course people are going to get hurt. But, Rolen winced. Has he really been hurting his own? The suffering of his people, the very thing he wanted to avoid most.
Yes. It really has come to the point where he demanded his own cousin’s execution, compromising with banishment. But Eryn was a danger. That stunt she pulled years ago could have gotten them all killed. That stunt he pulled could have gotten them all killed. At the beginning of the night, perhaps Rolen might have still strongly disagreed with her views. But now, Rolen didn’t know what to think anymore, muddled in this mess of an argument. He still considered other beings besides elves to be a danger, especially the Dragonborn. He always would. Most likely, yes. Possibly.
Rolen’s fingers tapped on the dusty tabletop.
If only Varan was here. Then again, this is the reason Varan was no longer here, wasn’t it?
Summary: two generations clash between their view of the past, and what it means for the future.
“Where are you going?”
She piped up from behind Rolen as he was making his way down the road.
Street lamps flickered on with magical flames, as they towered over the cobblestone streets below. It was evening, and all around within the waning light, people raced home to their luxurious manors and porcelain houses. Stalls packed up for the night, and stores flipped their signs to close. The plaza was quickly becoming empty. And yet Eryn and Rolen were having different issues.
He scoffed, “Nothing that concerns you of all people.” His pace picked up as he rushed away from her. Eryn raised her brow. Well that wasn’t any less suspicious.
“Well,” She hurried after him. “Considering we don’t have much time for a funeral, I’d rather make sure you come out alive.”
Rolen stopped to look at her. “What makes you think I’m in any danger?”
“Have you seen yourself?” Eryn rolled her eyes. “I’m honestly surprised no one has bothered to punch you in the throat yet.”
Rolen always brought some sort of trouble with him, that was for sure, with his radical ideas and brash persona. He could be killed if Eryn didn’t keep a close eye on him. Not that she cared of course, but if he started a fight in the Golden City of all places, that could very well jeopardize this mission, as well as leave them under unfavorable terms with the king. Which of course, wasn’t ideal. She had to know where he was going.
“I always assumed you would be on the top of that list..” Rolen muttered.
“What was that?”
“Go away.” Grumbling, he ignored her. Walking faster and faster, he made several swerves in a futile attempt to get Eryn to lay off him.
After a couple of quiet minutes passed, Rolen noticed she was still following him.
“WILL YOU GIVE IT A REST!” Rolen called over his shoulder. Eryn had half a mind to laugh. “I AM THREE CENTURIES OLDER THAN YOU, I am PERFECTLY capable of taking care of myself!”
Eryn sighed, gritted her teeth, and kept following him. Just because Rolen was three centuries older doesn’t mean he’ll stop being the annoying jerk she had always known him to be. Eryn highly doubted his chances of coming out unscathed from whatever she could call this little venture. That was Rolen alright, with his radical ideas, and superiority complex. He was always so unbelievably vain ever since Eryn was a young child, spewing his ideals and whatnot without a care for ramifications. He had no sense for sensitivity with his loud and brash self. Always leading with reckless abandon.
They have always been somewhat at odds because of those stupid ideas he had about the world, and because he of all people claimed that her diplomatic tactics were useless. It was just unbelievable to Eryn how someone so absurd could become one of the top candidates to be voted into the council.
But then again, everyone loved Rolen back in the village. There, he was idolized for his tough stance on outsiders, and extreme loyalty to the village. Combine that with being a decorated war veteran, plus being part of one of the most prestigious wood elf families in the world, and Rolen was the pinnacle of wood elf pride.
How sweet, Eryn grimaced.
Groaning, she observed as the neat rows of tightly packed townhouses from the middle ring became less and less pristine. In fact, they seemed to be crumbling. Not to mention all around, mysterious figures glanced at the pair, their beady eyes glinting in the rising darkness. In the distance, Eryn could spot a short sun elf. She had short shaggy hair, with lots of jewelry piled onto her, and wore a black cloak with golden details. Eryn stiffened a bit, becoming wary of peering individuals. As soon as the mysterious figure saw that Eryn spotted her, she immediately made a run for it, disappearing into the shadows. Well that was suspicious. Eryn suddenly became more aware of the shifting eyes surrounding them.
Finally, Rolen stopped in front of a busted tavern, with a broken sign hanging at the top, reading, “The Rusty Bucket”. He headed on inside, Eryn quickly following. She was met with a bright burst of warmth and light.
Rolen pulled out a seat from the bar, sitting down. Eryn followed suit, observing the surrounding place. It was very chaotic within the bustling pub. It was so loud, Eryn could barely hear herself think. The Rusty Bucket was a cozy place, as the warm glow from the hanging lanterns filled the room. Folks of all sorts were gathered here, musicians, bards, off duty guards, crafters, artisans, and many more, all tucked within the rather small inn.
Behind the bar table, in front of them was a short sun elf with frazzled hair wiping a glass. Looking up at Rolen and Eryn, she asked in a tired, deadbeat tone, “What can I get you?” She looked at them expectantly.
“A mug of mead please,” Rolen ordered.
Eryn simply shook her head when the barmaid peered at her. She wasn’t in the mood to drink tonight. It was better she stayed sharp. The two sat next to each other, the tension growing thicker every second. The barmaid pulled up a rusty old bucket, slamming it down onto the counter.
Rolen and Eryn glanced at each other, perplexed. Then the barmaid began pouring mead into it. She pushed the sloshing bucket towards Rolen.
“That’ll be twelve copper on your tab.” She walked away to deal with another group at the other end of the bar table.
Rolen’s mouth opened in confusion, before closing it. Eryn stifled a snicker. Guess she knows why it’s called “The Rusty Bucket” now. Peering into the bucket, Rolen noticed mysterious black dots and random junk floating in the mead. Well, the outer ring of Urgshire was never known for its cleanliness per se. Eryn grimaced at the sight. Rolen pushed the bucket away in disgust, resigning to lay his head on the table.
“So I’d say this is a pretty interesting venture to go to, don’t you think?” She smiled.
“Quit it Nightflower,” He mumbled from the table. “It’s just not my night.”
“Hmmm..” Eryn peered around the room. “Want to test that theory?” She gestured towards a game of poker on another table. Rolen stared at the table for a few seconds, before groaning. Pushing himself off the table, he went to go “test his luck”, leaving ten copper pieces on the table. Eryn got up with a smug expression on her face to follow him, before reading a sign next to the poker table.
Veterans night. Of course, Eryn knew of Rolen’s military past in the Great War. By all means, he wouldn’t stop jabbering about it back in the village.
Rummaging through her bag of currency, she checked if she had enough to play a few rounds. She had a hefty amount of copper coins left over. That should be enough. Might as well have some fun within Urgshire before they headed on their great quest tomorrow, considering there was not much else to do other than make sure Rolen didn’t end up beaten and stuffed in a barrel.
There was a nice, low stakes game being played. A mixed crowd surrounded the large table. Veterans from all around the war gathered here. A sun elf with a gouged out eye was busy excitingly chatting with a human leaning on a metal leg. Eryn could spot some battle scarred goblins in the crowd. Several shouts of recognition went through the air. One shout was pointed directly towards Rolen.
“Rolen! Is that you?” A raspy voice called up from the crowd. It belonged to a sun elf, who was scratching his head in astonishment at Rolen.
Rolen jumped back in surprise. “Corren!” He raced over to him, shaking his hand, and sharing a hug. “It’s good to see you again!”
Corren chuckled, sitting back down. “It’s been a century! How’s life in the woods been treating you?”
“Eh, it could be better.” Rolen sat down next to him, pulling over his pouch of coins, grinning all the while.
“That’s the stick in the mud I know!” Corren clapped him on the back. “Come play a couple rounds. There is so much you missed out on.”
Eryn’s eyes were wide in surprise as she watched this exchange happen. What was that weird thing he was doing with his mouth? Was he, smiling? She chuckled to herself. Honestly, Eryn thought she’d never see the day. On two occasions would he ever smile. Either all Dragonborn disappeared or Eryn finally got banned from the village. Thankfully, this was neither.
Curling her lip, she sat down besides the pair. Rolen shifted in annoyance, scooting his seat away. They glanced at each other in disdain while the cards were doled out. Well this is turning out to be an interesting game.
…
It was getting late, and they had just finished their last round of poker. The tavern was less full, only a few stragglers remaining. Visitors filed out of the Rusty Bucket in high spirits, and drunken chants. Eryn shivered with the thought of the dirty filth floating within the bucket of mead earlier. Hopefully they didn’t drink too much of it. Otherwise, it seems like many would call in sick tomorrow. Corren had already left a few rounds ago, claiming he had to get ready for a job the next day. Rolen had already bid him a cheerful goodbye, and seemed to be in pretty good spirits, swapping stories with the other veterans, reminiscing about a more segregated time. All the while Eryn rolled her eyes and kept playing, listening to their nonsense.
“Ugh, Nightflower you’ve killed me.”
Rolen banged his head on the table, defeated.
“Mind games Rolen, mind games,” Eryn said as she counted her money, grinning wide.
They both paused to look at each other. Before she could speak, Rolen let out a large bellow. “Okay, I’ll admit, you got me there.” He continued chuckling, before grabbing his satchel, getting ready to head out into the night. Eryn laughed a bit as well. This was the most positive reaction she got out of him ever since she fell into that ditch that one time.
“For all the trouble I give you,” Rolen heaved the satchel over his shoulder. “If it wasn’t for your unorthodox ways and ridiculous ideals, I would say you would have made a decent wood elf.”
Her brows rose. “Really now? That has to be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Are you sure you’re not brain damaged? Seems like only yesterday you were still scheming to ban me from the village.”
“I said you would have made a decent wood elf, not that you are. As for the banning from the village, you’re not off the hook Nightflower." Rolen swayed as he pointed at Eryn, hiccuping. "I'm still heavily advocating for your permanent removal, so you’d better stay in line.”
“Oh I couldn’t imagine doing any of the sort.”
“Yeah right.” Rolen scoffed, and looked around. “Associating with goblins, orcs, the like. And dragonborn.” He spat. “What happened to you?”
“Why, I don’t know what you mean.” Eryn crossed her arms. “Elaborate.”
“Elaborate how? You belong to one of the most prestigious wood elf families ever, with an illustrious history spanning thousands of centuries. Groomed to be one of the very best. Yet you squander that opportunity. For what, lousy bottom feeders with nothing other to do than pillage, and kill? Is this what you decide to do with your blessings in life? It really is a shame Sophia decided to follow in your footsteps, taking that stupid name, Nightflower." Rolen laughed bitterly. "She could’ve been something great.”
Eryn looked away in silence, eyes narrowing. The bar had gone silent around them, the few people still mulling around attempting to seem like they weren’t listening.
“Do you ever stop to think in your twisted, pea sized mind, that you’re wrong? Just once?”
He groaned, inching away. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Funny, seeming as you are never in the mood," she scoffed.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Rolen sat up straight.
“Just saying,” Eryn fiddled with the small lantern in front of her. “You only ever seem happy when you're either attempting to ban me from the village, which may I add,” She grinned at Rolen. “You consistently fail at.”
He glared daggers at Eryn.
“Or, when you sprout all your nonsense propaganda about how ‘ELVES ARE SUPERIOR TO ALL OTHER RACES!’ or ‘DOWN WITH THE DRAGONBORN!’, the usual foolishness.”
“That ‘foolishness’ and ‘nonsense propaganda’ has actual purpose, thank you very much!” Rolen banged his fist on the table. “It has saved many an elf on multiple occasions. Need I remind you the Tale of-”
“The Tale of Beiro the Trusting, I know, I know. Guy married a Dragonborn and got killed in his sleep with his village raided, everyone knows the story! Every child in the village is forced to memorize it." Eryn scoffed. "I think you forgot the part where it’s just a myth.”
“Myths are based in truth! Just because it’s a myth doesn’t mean it’s lesson isn’t important.”
Eryn raised her brow in skepticism. “And the lesson of that would be?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Rolen sneered. “Don't trust outsiders!”
“Ah, this debate again. What is with you and the Dragonborn?” Eryn leaned back in her seat. “ It’s been so long since the war. It's but a blip in our memories. Times have changed since then, haven't they? Get over yourself.”
“Get- get over myself?” Rolen stuttered over himself. “Have you not noticed they started an entire war? Committing countless crimes? One does not simply get over that!”
Once again they sat in silence, tension simmering between the two. Rolen was really starting to get on Eryn’s nerves. It was the same thing since she was child, always this and that for Rolen. That stubborn fool. Maybe it was a mistake that Eryn followed him here tonight. Who cared what happened to him anyways? She certainly didn’t.
“You know what,” Rolen got up suddenly, pushing the seat out of the way. “You really want to ignore everything I’ve warned you about for the past century? Fine. Maybe something more concrete will show you.”
Sweeping up his stuff, he stalked towards the door. Eryn tilted her head in confusion. “Where are you going?”
summary: a lonely elven border guard tries to get through the day
a/n O is a god in a religion many people in the “Golden” city believe in. He will be explained as I write more about this universe :)
part 1
Perhaps this day was not going as bad as Aelar thought. You know, he might actually be on to something. All those times, he woke up, looking at himself in the cracked rusty mirror within his cramped home, whispering, "Today is going to be a great day!” Despite what everyone else says, he never stopped trying. Not once. Zilch, zero.
While this may not seem as big of an accomplishment for many others, Aelar was quite proud of himself, even for doing the most menial things. After all, it was a one-way ticket to boosting his self-confidence, was it not, finding ways to be proud of himself? Ah yes. If only his therapist could see him now.
Of course, today, of all days, could be considered pretty unorthodox. For one, he nearly died this morning, passing out from heatstroke. Plus, a strange group of adventurers came waltzing up to the gate. Despite the news of the lockdown being spread across the land. Already this day went down an exciting route. Even before the lockdown, Aelar never got to meet anyone that came through these gates. Usually, he was at the tower, working with his lovely mage friends. Although he did one day find himself glancing down at the ground from high up on the walls. It was always such a mesmerizing view.
For his first confrontation, he thought it went well. Until it didn’t. Did it even happen? Aelar himself was unsure of this, scratching the top of his helmet.
He was still a little off from the heatwave that morning, slightly swaying from side to side. The meeting with the bears seemed so surreal, yet he swore that it actually happened.
Valna seemed intent on forgetting whatever had just occurred. In their awkward silence, Aelar sighed, looking for a way to break it once more. This was how it always was on border patrol, awkward silence after awkward silence. For the first time, it felt like even the butterflies felt weren’t enough.
Which, untrue of course. Aelar loved butterflies, always flitting around from flower to flower, seemingly never satisfied with their lot. They were ambitious little things with a drive, on the hunt for that one flower, the flower. They never gave up. They never stopped moving. Butterflies stuck with their cause until the very end, no matter how delicate they were with those exquisite wings, decorated in vivid colors. Aelar envied those butterflies, he really did. Such passionate tiny bugs. It was a shame that none of them really seemed to find the one flower they were forever content to stay on. No, they kept moving. Even their flight patterns, which translated to drunken bird, seemed to showcase their character pretty well.
First and foremost, butterflies were honest. They were never dishonest with their intentions. Not once did they falter from this mission, nor hid it from the world, despite the odds against it. The short lifespan, the fragile body, combined with all the forces of nature rebelling against such a small being, made for a hard life. It was simply unfair, butterflies against the world. Despite it all, they still kept going for as long as they could. That Aelar could appreciate most.
No, he couldn’t blame the butterflies for this pang of loneliness, if he could call it that. It was unruly of him to even think about blaming butterflies in the first place, what with them living their honorable lives. Could it be something to do with Aelar?
No, can’t be.
Impossible.
Maybe.
Aelar blanked out for a bit, when all of a sudden, a voice bellowed from behind the pair from beyond the gate, “HEY! One of you border guards that seems to be examining the wall, would you mind keeping watch over their stuff?”
Aelar turned around excitedly. “Yes sir!” he answered, rushing over to the caravans stocked with supplies. At the very front cart, three grand horses stood towering over Aelar, peering around at their new, shiny surroundings. Aelar chuckled nervously, stepping around them, gently attempting to grab the reins. He hadn’t noticed how huge the steeds were, moseying around with shaggy brown coats, and their watery black eyes. It was obvious they’ve been through some wear and tear, although it seemed they were well taken care of. However, it was kind of terrifying to face the horses up close.
Aelar rather had a distaste for horses. Just something he was never able to shake off. It seemed like every horse had a vendetta against him. The one in front of him specifically seemed to be glaring at him, although Aelar was unsure. Horses were the epitome of entitlement, despite having a most humble background. The tallest of the dwarfs if you will. The opposite of the lovely butterflies Aelar so admired. What is so special about horses? It seemed to Aelar that modern war tactics relied much too heavily on horses. Most other animals were overlooked in this department. Did it really matter what animal you were riding to your inevitable death? At least make it a decent one. Where other creatures were resilient, jumping back from injuries so far gone, whether it be losing a limb or fighting the plague, horses remained frail. Even a simple kick to the legs could cripple them. But still, modern society loved those horses, those cruel-eyed horses with the intelligence of a newborn goblin, the resilience of a piece of parchment underwater, and the hubris to rival even O.
Either Aelar hated life, or he really needed a glass of water. His tangents seemed to get longer and longer. No, he mustn’t sway from his daily affirmations. Only positive thoughts allowed. Good vibes and sunshine only. Aelar gave up trying to wrangle the reins from upfront, resigning to jumping on the cart instead, tugging on the reins from behind.
The same two bears from earlier sauntered up to Aelar.
“I believe you are to show us to the stables.” One of the bears piped up in a gravelly voice.
“Ah yes, follow the carts,” Aelar squeaked, still surprised and hysterical from their earlier interaction. “Er, bear, bears.”
The bear seemed to roll its eyes. “Gustav is the name. Might as well use it instead of degrading me to a mere bear. And this,” Gustav gestured to the other bear, “Is Greta.”
“Alright then b-” Gustav glared at him.
“Uh, Gustav, and Greta. Well, like I said, follow the carts.” Aelar finished.
Satisfied, Gustav and Greta fell behind in line with the carts.
A couple other guards came up to help him move the carts to the stables. A guard he had never met before came up to the horses in front of him, guiding them gently, giving Aelar the signal to start moving the carts.
The carts rumbled and creaked across the lonely stretch of road on the way towards the castle stables. Aelar sat on the jockey box in uncomfortable silence. Behind him, he could hear a subtle clucking. Were there chickens inside the cart? He was a bit concerned, to say the least. To the side of him, the bears looked like they were having a legitimate conversation, in whatever language you would call growling, over and over again.
It must be nice, Aelar reminisced, to have someone to talk to like that. It reminded him of his friends and coworkers, though usually, he couldn’t tell whether they were talking to him half the time or not. In fact, the only other interaction he had with his coworkers today was having water dumped on him while changing into the armor. He laughed it off of course. What fun! Just a little joke here and there. Was he jealous of a pair of bears? Aelar flushed scarlet. That was a question he didn't really want to answer.
He tugged the reins to a stop in front of the castle stables. Like everything else in the upper ring of the city, the wooden structure was plated and dusted in lustrous gold and bronze, and in front of it a field of rolling grass and flowers. Several barns connected to it, the gold coverings scuffed from decades of use. Behind all of it stood the palace. The palace seemed to bathe in its wealth, with countless towers piercing the sky, and of course, gold as far as the eye can see, complemented with vines crawling over the sides of the building. It stood against a rosy backdrop as the sun sunk into the horizon, with pink clouds dotting the sky.
Aelar never understood the need to plate absolutely everything in shades of gold and bronze. It was taking the name a bit too literally for his taste. It irked him to no end, especially now at sunset. Then, the light from the sun hits the palace at exactly the right angle, proceeding to blind everyone within a ten-mile radius. Of course, it was beautiful, so long as you were not standing too close or in direct line of the light reflection. Unfortunately, that was not the case for most days within his life.
It definitely wasn’t helping that not only was the palace blinding him, but the heat was overwhelming. He needed shade promptly. It was unclear whether his mind was in the right place or not.
After a round of inspection from the guards stationed near the stables, he was instructed to park the carts in the nearest barn. Stopping the caravans, he hopped ofF, dusting himself clean. A couple of stable boys came up to take the horses to the stables, waving at Aelar as they passed by. Aelar rather liked the stable boys. Young, big-eyed, and round-faced hopefuls. Being a stable boy for a couple of months was a requirement to become a high-ranking guard position. It was a very humbling job, he couldn’t lie about that. But rewarding all the same, in the end. It was just a matter of resilience. A couple of these children might become some prominent individuals later on. All part of the routine.
Aelar stood in silence, watching dust float around when a voice piped up behind him.
“Hey!”
Shocked, Aelar stiffened and turned to see who it was. Behind him was the random guard that helped guide the horses.
“We haven’t met yet,” she stuck out her hand. “What’s your name?”
Aelar blankly stared at her outstretched hand. Is this what they call elven interaction? He tentatively took it. “Aelar,” he managed to stumble out.
A couple awkward seconds passed as Aelar kept shaking her hand. Her face had that “on the nose” expression on it like she was waiting for something. Her happy expression started to falter a bit, as Aelar kept a strained smile on his face.
“Oh, right! What’s your name?” he might have said a little too loudly.
“Adrie! I’m one of the castle guards, not royal though, although that should be obvious,” she babbled, gesturing towards her bronze armor. “Well, you know, royal guards get the whole thing of metal from head to toe, combined with chain mail, plated gold with flags and all, I just have a couple plates of plain metal plated bronze, well, same as you. I mean, I’m not complaining, it’s lighter, more breathable, although I still can’t help but drown in heat, just one of the many things I hate about armor, especially the extra padding you have to wear underneath, like Xo, it’s aggrava-” she looked back up at Aelar, who was quietly nodding along to her jabber. “-ting. Uhhh,” Adrie laughed nervously.
“Yeah, I might talk a bit. My mum always said I could talk my enemies to death, and I’d be none the wiser, soo,” she gave Aelar a friendly punch in the arm, Aelar jumping a bit at the contact. “I haven’t seen you before. Why is that?”
“I’m a border guard on the eastern front,” Aelar gestured over his shoulder. “Day shift, so I don’t go around often.”
“Ooh, standing in the blistering heat with heavy armor with hours on end? I admire your resilience.”
“It’s not all bad. My fellow guards and I get along great! Such good friends!” Adrie raised a brow at him. “Although I do have to admit, you’re right about the heat, this armor is not helping at all.”
“Right?! With the lockdown, we hardly have a need for armor anymore. Why let your soldiers suffer with the immeasurable heat? If I cracked an egg on the concrete outside, it would cook within seconds.” Adrie dramatically wiped the sweat off her forehead. “Let me just say, I’ve been to everwinter once; best vacation I’ve ever had, the folks there have it easy.”
“I’ll say.” Aelar fought a snicker, “Yeah, about the armor, can we talk about how they plaster gold on everything! It’s ridiculous.”
“I know it’s the famed “Golden City” but they should’ve stopped at the walls.”
“In all seriousness, this just feels like a long, ongoing prank,” Aelar smiled. “That’s commitment right there.”
“Well commitment is the number one reason optometrists are so sought after within the city.”
"As you can see, it was all a plot by the optometrists to take over the city. Just you wait."
They both burst out in laughter, enjoying each other's company.
“Adrie!”
“Hmm?” Adrie peered over Aelar’s shoulder. They both looked back to another guard at the barn entrance.
“C’mon, you’re needed back at the post!” The guard waved Adrie over.
“Coming Varis!” Adrie looked back at Aelar and smiled. “Well I guess I’ll see you around!” She rushed out.
“Oh, uh bye?” Aelar half-heartedly waved as she went out, leaving him alone in the barn, with the occasional cluck of what he assumed to be chickens within the cart.
Well, that was an interesting turn of events to Aelar. He was exhilarated. It was always nice to have a conversation with someone, even if it was mainly small talk. However, he wasn’t expecting her to talk so much. Aelar was used to curt speech, never any longer than it had to be. It was nice, to say the least.
Turning around, he realized the bears were still there. Greta and Gustav have already made themselves comfortable, settling into some piles of hay.
He wasn’t really sure what to do at that point. After all, his current job was to stand there and keep watch over the carts. Might as well do something to pass the time. Today seemed to be especially interesting.
“You know,” Gustav frowned, a little peeved at Aelar suddenly starting to speak. “Today has been the most unusual day.”
“Unusual is good,” Gustav said, as Greta nodded along. “It’s best to be pushed out of your comfort zone. You mustn’t stay there forever.”
“Well,” Aelar chuckled. “I know plenty of people who have stayed in their comfort zone all their life, and not remotely interested in doing anything else. I’d said they have a pretty swell life.”
“That’s quite a shame, isn’t it?” Gustav shook his head. “Children that never learn to grow up.”
Aelar nodded along, “Well, I wouldn’t call them children per se, but I see your point.”
“You look sad, Aelar.”
Aelar looked up, surprised. “What do you mean? I’m perfectly happy!”
“Just an observation. When’s the last time you’ve gone out with friends?”
“Well-”
“Seen your family recently?” Gustav’s eyes narrowed.
“Um..” Aelar struggled to answer the questions.
“Vacation?” he piped in.
“Well I’m kinda short on cash, I’m about three months behind on rent, and my family cut me off...” Aelar winced.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I,” he sighed. He might be revealing a bit much. “But I’m perfectly fine, job and all.”
“Are you happy, Aelar? Are you really? Or is that just a lie you tell yourself? Because from what I see over here, it’s kind of pathetic.”
Aelar averted his gaze from Gustav. He didn’t feel like defending himself, and to a bear of all things. After all, what he said was true. Something Aelar was reluctant to admit.
“Maybe… maybe I’m not as happy as I thought I was.”
Gustav hypothetically rolled his eyes. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
“Well,” Aelar looked up at the ceiling and spoke in a hoarse voice. “Maybe I did know I’m not really as happy as I could be. I’m just lying to myself. Lying about everything. I hate my job, earning what, literal copper coins a day, with little to no prestige. I can see the looks of pity on everyone’s faces when I tell them what I work as.”
“Who am I kidding, ‘my coworkers and I get along great,’” Aelar spat, making fake quotation marks in the air. “I’m not naive. I know they hate me, and all I stand for.”
He kicked a random bucket on the floor and leaned against the cart, chuckling sarcastically. “I go to work hungover-”
Gustav stared at him incredulously. “You go to work hungover!?”
Aelar brushed it off, “Eh, I’m having a moment right now. I haven’t seen my folks in decades. I'm too scared to know if they even want to see me. The landlord is looking for every opportunity to kick me out, yet for some reason I stay in that miserable place.” Sighing, he continued. “But I have to stay positive, don’t I?”
“Hm?”
“Well, despite how much I loathe my life right now, it’s kinda all I have,” he exhaled. “Isn’t that one of life’s lessons? Trying to find the beauty in everything? I’m certain I can find it in this. However I can.”
“Aelar, you fool,” Gustav growled, rising as he headed towards Aelar. “What about passion? Ambition? Instead of settling for whatever pathetic life you have now, you should be working towards what you want! Live your life!”
“But where would I even start?”
“In a dirt shack beside a road, to a palace plated in gold, it won't matter where you start, so long as you begin,” Gustav said solemnly. “It’s the hardest thing of all, beginning, but that is what makes it worth it. What is life without passion, without the ability to reach for what you want? On the other hand lies cowardice. No one would dare humor a coward now, would they?”
“So what if I am a coward Gustav,” Aelar looked down at the ground, pursing his lips in discomfort. “How do I know I won't mess up again? It would be safer to just stay where I am.”
“Do not fear failure, Aelar. Or else it will become all you have left.” And with that, Gustav stumbled back to the hay pile, drifting off to sleep in the waning sunlight.
Aelar sat speechless.
Later on, Aelar headed home, leaving the stable boys to watch the carts. He walked out of the luxurious first ring of the golden city, strolling by the moderate middle-class portion and into a darker alleyway. He shoved the keys into the door, watching as it opened with a large creak. The wind came rushing into the cramped apartment, with papers thrown across the floor gently rustling with the breeze.
Setting his stuff down, he took a lantern and lit it up with a match. The orange and red flames set a soft light into the room. Kicking around random knick-knacks and items strewn across the floor, Aelar settled down into a little nook next to the window, finger tracing a thin crack running through the glass. He watched as the last remnants of sunlight disappeared from the sky, leaving a star-speckled pitch black. All was quiet, save the hushed blink of the leaking pipe nearby and the occasional group of drunkards going off in the streets.
Next to him was a small stool with a half-finished bottle of wine from the morning. Aelar reached for the bottle from force of habit but decided against it, instead resigning to stare out the window. Alcohol wasn’t positive now, was it? Of course, Gustav did say to get out of the comfort zone. Although Aelar was pretty sure alcohol was far from what he meant.
He replayed the past day in his head. Back to the bucket of water being dumped on him, to almost passing out from heat exhaustion, and the mysterious encounter with the new adventurers. Exhausting things. And there were the good things. He thought back to Adrie and the brush he had with her. That was a pleasant moment. That was definitely positive.
Aelar thought about what Gustav said most, over and over again, a small smile tugging at his lips. Of course, he had no idea what he was supposed to do about it. This new piece of info made its way into his head, filling it with dangerous dreams. A precarious kind of hope.
He glanced back at the half-empty bottle of wine, deciding to take it out of sight. No, Aelar did have an idea about where to go on from here. Just like those butterflies on their eternal search for the best flower. Moving forward unwavered, because they knew better flowers awaited just beyond reach. Living life till the very end of their terribly short existence, yet still living.
It was about time he started putting himself back together.
summary: A lonely elven border guard struggles to get through the day
Aelar was happy to be a border guard, he really was.
But putting on heavy metal armor-plated in gold was doing critical damage to his back. And not helping with the heat either. In fact, earlier that morning, he nearly passed out from heat exhaustion. Despite all the teasing he received from the royal guards of not having an important job, a border guard was a respectable occupation. He believed in his importance to the city. Partly. To be on the outlook for charlatans and criminals without a moral code, looking to break into the extraordinary and exquisite city that was Urgshire. Not on his watch. He came to work each day, filled with hope, and a skip to his step.
Unfortunately, this has caused quite a few problems. One of them being pelted with magical charms that could make him sing ‘I’m a little teapot’ for hours on end, cast by his mage coworkers. But he looked past that, always trying to revel in his job, seeking happiness in what little there was to be found. The royal guard looked for more qualified individuals of class? Well, there was always the option of castle guard. Aelar wasn't good enough for castle guard, arena guard, knight, or gladiator? Not even a prison or jail guard? Nighttime patrol?
Well fine. While off, breaking bones, dealing with serious crimes, murderers, all the while living an anxiety-filled life, Aelar was here, living his best one. Enjoying his day, watching butterflies flit around on the field surrounding the wall, dying of heatstroke, and once in a while snacking on some candied peels he managed to sneak in. And during lunch break, he would enjoy sitting next to his friends, laughing at conversation, and enjoying his brief meal. Well, he was short of friends, his fellow guards only ever seemed to tolerate him, BUT the guard dogs seemed to like him, past the biting and the growling. Why else would they bite him, and only him?
Every day he woke up, telling himself, this was going to be the best day ever. Then he was, of course, pelted with some form of a charm from one of the mages. It meant they liked him, of course. It was a short little tease between friends to get his attention, of course. Aw, how sweet of them. Of course, they could stand to stop dropping water over his head every day. Perhaps Aelar could see the joy in that too. Free shower, no?
Yes, Aelar was happy, at his job, with his friends, dogs, and the butterflies out on the field. Yes, Aelar was happy, within his cramped apartment, with things strewed around his room like a hurricane had gone through it. Yes, Aelar was happy, undeterred by the hole in the wall and the leaking pipe that never failed to drip on his head at night. He could say the gap was ventilation revolutionized, yes? Yes, Aelar was happy, despite being two months late in paying rent, because he spent all his money gambling and drinking away his sorrows. What sorrows? Aelar couldn't see any within a thousand-mile radius. He always had hope for a better tomorrow.
Just not today.
Despite that hope, he definitely drank too much last night.
While enjoying his birdwatching, and butterflies flitting, he spotted a hobgoblin, a bird person, and two bears waving at some random object in the distance.
Blinking hard, Aelar glanced at the scene once more in disbelief. The hobgoblin stood on top of the bear, the bird thing popping in a red object in their mouth. Maybe they were a circus act? Who were they waving to? Were they even real?
He shook his head. He really needed to stop coming to work hungover. The sun was beating down on him. It was like being cooked alive within the armor, not to mention the thick layer of cloth he wore underneath the metal plates on top.
“Hey,” He coughed out hoarsely after standing still in silence for quite a bit. “Do you see that? Or is it just me?” He glanced towards his partner, Valna, another border guard.
Without even looking, Valna just rolled her eyes, “I’m sure it’s just you,” She fanned her face with her hand. “This heat is killing me.” Valna went back to fiddling with her armor.
“Ah.” Aelar decided it was definitely the alcohol.
But then, a few minutes passed by when two large caravans nearly crashed into the wall. Stiffening up, Aelar peeked once more to see what was going on. Ever since the lockdown, things have gone very slow at the border. Not like it was always fast. Usually, people came from the east side. He was always sent to the west. It was a wonder to Aelar as to why that happened.
Valna looked over as well. The mages on top of the watchtowers peered down.
From what he could see, it was a big reunion between a traveling band of adventurers. Fun. Aelar has always wanted to meet with a real adventurer. Usually, it was just charlatans lying through their teeth or newbies unused to legitimate adventuring.
He was too far away to see who was in the group individually. Eventually, two of them, Ghak of Rorc and Eryn of Nightflower, came to the gate, asking to be let in.
Aelar was already pretty intimidated. For one, he actually never came face to face with strangers outside the city borders before. Quite an intriguing predicament for a border guard of all things.
Although, Aelar couldn't help but bubble up in excitement. The prospect of delivering his first Gold ribbon message made him ecstatic beyond words. Only the most important messages came in a gold ribbon. Usually, mundane stuff like reports and statistics came through copper ribbons, with disturbances and unruly cadets stepping out of line came in the form of silver ribbon messages. But gold ribbon ones went straight to the palace, to the king himself.
Watching the rest of the adventurers come into the gates of the city, he suddenly saw something that didn’t seem right.
“Sir! Uh, Ghak!?”
Whipping around, Ghak raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“I apologize sir, but the rules state that only livestock, horses, and pets under two hundred pounds be let into the city. The rest of you may go, but the bears cannot be let in.” Aelar flinched and inched away from the bears as they growled slightly at him.
Suddenly, one of the bears opened its mouth and began to speak in a deep growl.
“You dare insult me, categorizing me as a wee pet?”
What is going on?! Aelar chuckled nervously. It’s not every day that a bear starts speaking out of nowhere. Behind him, the other guards jumped as well, at the sight of this crime against nature.
“Uhh,” He managed to stutter out, shocked.
“Well I wouldn’t expect you of all creatures to be so understanding. I am a sentient being, eons above your simple mind. I simply will not tolerate being talked down to. Wild animal,” The bear somehow managed to scoff at Aelar. “Pathetic. Well get this through your thick skull. Under the laws of nature, with humanoid interaction, sentient creatures are protected from such discrimination and ignorance. We have a right to go into the city. I would recommend you let us do so.”
The second bear right next to the one speaking grunted in agreement.
“What he said.” Ghak grinned widely.
There was a long pause, as it took a while for the guards to even process what had just happened.
Aelar was terrified, staring wildly at the other guards, trying to get an explanation for this. He was only met with blank stares and uneasy glances.
“Um, okay. I guess..” Aelar laughed nervously, taking a couple steps away from the bear. “Ah, welcome to Urgshire!”
The heat really was killing Aelar. It was like a sauna underneath all of that armor. The very ground seemed to shift and change in his vision. Did he really just see that bear talk?
He stood there in disbelief, whilst the rest of the guests made their way through the gates, and spilled out into the courtyard, including the disgruntled bears. The gates closed behind them with a loud creak, and the veil of magic shielding over it once more.
The other guards went back to their posts, despite the fascinating turn of events.
“Are we… are we not going to address that?” Aelar turned to Valna helplessly.
Valna shot a grim look at Aelar. “No.” She deadpanned.
