Chapter Text
Cornifer is going on an adventure!
Excitement wakes him before dawn. He lies in the covers of his bunk, fidgeting with excitement and thinking over his itinerary yet again. His mind races forward to all the wondrous sights that await him in the ruined kingdom below, all the hidden corners and forgotten sights. Eventually, when the watery gray light of morning in Dirtmouth begins to peep through the curtains, he slips out of bed (careful not to wake Iselda just yet) and begins to pack.
One by one items go into his well-worn travel bag: quills, ink, fresh parchment, notes from previous excursions, lantern, bedroll, travel rations, and rope—lots of rope! Soon Iselda joins him, yawning and carrying two steaming mugs of tea. Cornifer takes one, thanking her with a quick peck on her cheek. She glances at his packing list on the table and begins to read it aloud. “Spare blanket, map pins, food for the lumafly lantern…”
“Check, check, and check!” he says cheerfully.
She raises an eyebrow and pulls out a small jar of flyflakes from the cupboard. “Make that check and check .”
He accepts the jar sheepishly. “Ah of course, dear! Wherever would I be without you?”
“Lost in some cavern in the dark, apparently,” she laments, but with a fond smile quirking the edge of her mouth. She scans the rest of the list and sighs again. “I wish you would consider taking a nail, Corny, or at least a sharpened pin. The ruins are dangerous and I’d worry less if I knew you had something to defend yourself with.”
“Nonsense, my love.” He squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. “We both know you are the warrior between us—I wouldn’t even know which end of the nail to hold! And besides, I have my own ways of getting along. Carrying a weapon only would make me look like an enemy to many of the creatures down there.”
“I know,” she concedes. “I just worry.”
“I know you do, but I’ll come back to you safely—I always do! Though,” he adds with a sly smile, “I wouldn’t mind a bit of company if you happened to know any tall, pretty bugs who could offer a bit of protection to a poor old wanderer like me…”
She laughs and swats him playfully. “Don’t tempt me. Someone has to stay back to mind the shop, how else are we going to turn those charts of yours into geo? Besides, I have some new map pin designs I want to work on.”
“I’m serious, Iselda, we could ask Sly to watch the counter for a few days…”
“Sure, and pay him triple for his time? You know how he is about geo.” She smooths down one of his antennae affectionately. “Don’t worry about me, Corny. I put down my nail for the quiet life and I don’t regret it. Just keep coming back to me safely, and I’ll have everything I need to be happy. Now let’s finish getting you packed.”
With the two of them working together it is not long before his satchel is filled. Cornifer is almost certain he hasn’t forgotten anything this time. Iselda checks the list once more and then counts the charms pinned to the strap of his bag. “Wayward Compass?” she asks with yet another a sigh, which sends him scrambling through drawers for a few minutes before he successfully locates it.
At last, all is ready and the two stand outside the front of their hut to say their goodbyes. Iselda hands him two wrapped packages. “Just a little something for the road,” she says.
Cornifer sniffs them. “Sweet buns? You always spoil me, Izzy. But what’s the other one?”
“A little surprise.” She leans down and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Open it when you start missing me.”
After a final embrace and a wave to Elderbug, it’s finally time to go.
To the well! Adventure awaits!
*
The Forgotten Crossroads are a familiar haunt by now. Cornifer rappels himself down the old well with ease and thinks of Iselda’s package. Should he open it now? He does miss her already, but somehow he thinks that she didn’t mean for him to peek so soon.
His boots crunch onto gravel and he looks around. A familiar face greets him—or rather, a familiar face flees in the opposite direction.
“Hoy there, friend!” Cornifer calls as the small bug who had been tinkering on the nearby signpost grabs its toolbag with a yelp and makes a beeline away from him. “How goes the… Oh well, he’s gone.”
The menderbugs around here do wonderful work maintaining the signs and benches in the Crossroads. Cornifer sees them often enough to recognize the one who regularly works at this intersection, but they have never spoken. He supposes he can’t blame the little bug for being so jumpy, what with all the husks in the area. Still, Cornifer would have loved to invite them over for tea with him and Iselda some time and ask them about their work in the ruins. It would undoubtedly be fascinating. Alas, perhaps next time the little handybug would stick around long enough for a chat.
Time is a-ticking, however, and Cornifer has a lot of ground to cover today. He sets out along the crumbled walkways, jumping with ease over spots where the pavement has crumbled away to reveal dark tunnels below. For such a squat bug Cornifer is very light on his feet, a fact which he takes no small amount of pride in.
He has charted this area thoroughly on previous visits, so he stops only a few times to adjust a few details on his maps. The husks in the crossroads are non-aggressive, so he gives them a wide berth and they mostly ignore him. The few times he encounters one in a narrow passage, he is able to squeeze into a nook or cranny to hide until it passes.
All in all, it is an uneventful but comfortable start to his adventure. He sets his sights for greener pastures.