Chapter Text
Ren had been on the road for two months and a fortnight. His feet were sore from walking along the wagon, running ahead to scout out a proper route, and then dashing back. His throat was dry from singing for gold to the riders. He also desperately wished a river would show up at some point so he could clean his dirt-stained, sweaty, disgusting clothes.
Kim, his companion, had said they wouldn’t mind letting him ride along in the wagon, but he refused the offer. Ren knew he was a hardy person, years on the road and by the cold coast had proved that. He could survive this little suffering if it meant he didn’t have to risk what was left of his family. Kim was that, though he tried to deny it.
The two had just left the town of Arestough, and were now headed towards the Borderlands to find more work. The gold they’d gotten from transporting a young couple from Uxbrid to Louth was enough to pay for treats for Basil, Kim’s wagonhorse, as well as plenty of dried rations Ren kept in a knapsack in the wagon.
In many cases, Ren preferred being on the road to being in Capital. Kim didn’t ask about his past- hell, he didn’t even know if they knew who he was before they met. He liked it that way. Kim began humming one of the songs Ren always fell back on- a classic in Domain. Rattlin’ Bog. They always did that when the silence needed to be filled. Ren grabbed his lute from the wagon and began re-tuning it, not that it needed tuning since he was playing the previous evening. Checking to see that Kim was still on the prelude, he began strumming the lute, singing along.
Hey ho, the rattlin’ bog
The bog down in the valley-o
The rare bog, the rattlin’ bog
The bog down in the valley-o
Now in this bog there was a tree
A rare tree, a rattlin’ tree
Tree in the bog and the bog down in the valley-o…
…Bug hummed the tune stuck in his head, finishing pouring the mead while singing, “Now in this bog there was a nest, a rare nest, a rattlin’ nest…” He set it on the tavern counter and slid it down the way towards Sun, a regular. Her face was buried in a history book, about dragons, as she always was. Business was good today, Bug decided, watching his two younger siblings dash around the tavern, cleaning up messes and asking guests how they were enjoying their food. A warm affection bubbled in his chest, seeing them so happy. It had taken years for them to smile again after their parents died while fighting in the war against the Oceanfolk, and Bug had done his best to care for Chaos and Night since then.
He was plenty older than them, and hadn’t even been there when they were born, after traveling to Central in Dustrius to learn magic. Now that he was back in Domain, magic was outlawed, and no one knew he was trained to use it.
“Chaos, table three needs clearing.” Bug called out, watching her scurry towards the corner.
Sun glanced up from her book, taking a sip of her mead. “Have you heard the rumors about the attacks?”
Bug turned to look at the historian, tilting his head. “What attacks?”
“Dustrius has been using magic to attack towns on the Domain side of the Borderlands.” She murmured, setting down her book.
Bug scoffed. Dustrius wouldn’t be so foolish. Domain had had many wars, and had lost none in recent years. If anything, Domain probably began the attacks. The old captain of the guard was a force to be reckoned with, and he’d been the one forefronting these small wars across the kingdom. Now that the new captain of the guard had been inducted, Bug had expected the fighting to go down. Dustrius was simply a kingdom focused on education of the magicks. “Dustrius isn’t a warring kingdom. I know, because I’ve been there. They’re focused on progress, not fighting like Domain is.”
“It could just be a rumor.” Sun shrugged, sipping her mead and setting the pint down with a threatening thud. “Just keep your eyes and ears open.”
“I will.” Bug promised. Whenever Sun told him the rumors she’d heard, it was exactly something that should be listened to.
Later, after tucking Chaos and Night into bed in their shared room, Bug went down to check on the few awake patrons. A few were blackout drunk, so he moved them to empty rooms. He swept the floors, washed the dishes, and started a new batch of mead. As he was preparing to head to bed, the door blew open from what seemed like a strong gust of wind. In stepped a cloaked figure with a half-masked face. They wore all black, and behind them stepped in another, taller figure with a similar mask, closing the door behind them. Bug grabbed the dagger from underneath the counter, but didn’t bring it out yet.
The shorter one, seemingly the leader, walked up to the counter and set down three pieces of gold, enough for a room to sleep in. Bug looked at what he could see, and saw only cold green eyes staring him down.
Bug was not a brave man. He could act like it, pretend to be strong and protective, but in all reality, he was just respected. He was not brave. He took the gold pieces and moved away from the counter, leaving the dagger. The iciness in their eyes meant that Bug was not going to be winning if a fight began. Compliance was the best route.
He showed the two strangers to the farthest room from his shared room, giving them the key and leaving them be, heading back to his spot behind the counter and tallying his profit from the day. From the alcohol, thirty-seven gold pieces. From the seventeen filled rooms out of twenty, fifty-one. Not bad at all.
He stashed forty-four into a small pouch hidden inside a sack of potatoes, twenty-two went towards restocking and supplies, and eleven went to each of the twins.
The quieter it got, the more he felt like the air was suffocating. That thickness in the tavern quickly became recognizable as magic. Oh stars, sea, and earth below, if the Royals got any wind there was magic happening in his tavern, Chaos and Night would get taken away. His mind immediately went to the two silent strangers. Bug was never one to judge a book by its cover, but when people are masked and quiet, it was hard not to draw unwanted attention, especially since Domain was known as a welcoming place, despite their wars.
Bug ran up to the room he left the two strangers in, knocking on the door. The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe. He tried to be soft at first, but the more he waited, the more frantic he became. The Guard was in Pinsk, and Detectors were with them- he had to stop the strangers. The door finally opened, and the two strangers were standing in the room, two beds on either side, with a black orb between them, pulsing and humming a tune it seemed only Bug could hear.
Young hero. Young magic user. You left far too soon. It sang, pulling at the bitterness of responsibility that had slowly been growing in Bug’s chest. He didn’t really want to come back to Domain, not after seeing what Dustrius had to offer him. A noble magician, with inborn talent for the arts. You could achieve your potential, reach far beyond what any magic user has done before. You could change life itself.
The strangers were but a distant memory now, but still, some string kept Bug from touching the orb, transporting him to Dustrius. It was his siblings. Chaos and Night, only 11 years old. The first stranger, the shorter one, hummed in harmony with the orb, They will be taken care of. Far better than anything you could accomplish. Forget them, and live your dream.
That string holding Bug back snapped, cut easily by the silky words of the stranger. No, not stranger now. A friend. That first friend. He darted forward and touched the orb, before it exploded and swallowed him up, turning everything to a comfortable darkness.
The Bridge was a connecting city that brought together every part of the world. Domainians resided, Dustrians visited, and the Borderlans stayed. Through the years past, it had become clear that if Domain and Dustrius touched over the mountains, a Twenty-Year-War would begin. They knew from experience, as over 100 years ago, the very thing had occurred. Peacemakers, settlers in the mountain ridges, and Oceanfolk looking for a safe haven decided to end the war by creating a boundary, a land where it was simply land, unclaimed by any but those who inhabited it.
At first, it was the Line. Then, it expanded, becoming a border. The name came naturally, of course, the Borderlands. On any map given by either Dustrian or Domainian, the land between nations was titled “Border between Domain and Dustrius.” Depending on where you got the map, the order of names flipped. For Dustrians, the title was “Border between Dustrius and Domain.”
In the east of the Borderlands, a large city sat. It was founded by a great man, one that no one knew the name of; The Founder was his title. The Founder created the city from one building that now lay safely within the confines of the Fortress. From there, it expanded outward, with people from all different areas and places moving to reside in the connecting city. If a traveler was going from one nation to another, it was a custom to travel through Bridge. Though the west was safe as well, it became a tradition for travelers, as Bridge was the capital of the Borderlands.
Bridge had stood for 100 years, and the city had grown rapidly. All cultures and all people were welcome in the city. They had no sole ruler and were governed by a council. Enforcers roamed the streets, but often, there was no need for them. In many ways, it was a perfect city.
That’s what Titan thought when he came to live there, at least. He had been a soldier underneath the old captain of the guard in Domain during the war with the Oceanfolk. He had liked the captain well enough, but seeing the ruins of what happened was enough to make him sick. Titan was a magic user, and a good one at that. He had trained in the arts since he was young, but as soon as the new queen took the throne, it was outlawed and punishable by death in certain cases.
There was a massacre at the southern coast many years ago. Three, to be exact. The captain had led the attack against the Oceanfolk as ordered by the queen, but his family had been in the healer tents- their mother had died seven years prior to that- so he had no one to leave them with. Titan remembered the look on the captain’s face when he realized the attack was not just on one front, and they were getting pinned down. He remembered the scream of outrage the captain had let out as they both raced back towards the camp. Titan remembered burying the bodies.
The sparks flew as Titan smashed his hammer into the molten piece of metal. He’d loved those children like they were his little siblings, being a friend to their father. He saw them grow up, saw how much joy they had, even through the sorrow of losing a parent. He’d been under the captain’s command for a decade then, and mourned beside him. Titan even believed he could’ve saved them if he had just been able to use magic. Any sort of revenge would be enough, but it was too late for that.
Another hit to the metal, and it continued to bend across the anvil, the red glow of it making Titan’s hands warm underneath the gloves. He used tongs to pick it up off the anvil and shove it back into the furnace, grabbing the billows to fuel the fire inside, in more ways than just creating something.
“Titan?” A soft voice came from outside the forge, a familiar one since he had moved to Bridge.
“Good morning, Sil.” Titan turned to look at the woman with long, curly hair and bright eyes.
“Have you been up all night again?” She asked, tilting her head to the side as if analyzing his tired features.
“No.” He lied.
She scoffed, and held out a basket with fresh fruits and vegetables piled to the top. “I have some ripe plants for you.”
“You always seem to.” Titan took off his thick leather gloves and tossed them onto the anvil, walking over to take the produce from his only friend. “Thank you.”
“I hear the Storyteller’s coming to town.” She hummed, grabbing a log to sit on and stretch out her legs. “Will you be going?”
Titan had never heard of the Storyteller before. “Who? What?”
“The Storyteller. It only started recently. Around the end of spring and beginning of fall, we’ve been having a wagoneer and their companion visit on the way to Dustrius. They stop by for a couple days while looking for work, and hang out at the Goose Egg, telling stories and old legends. The townsfolk love it.” She smiled. “You should come, seriously. The stories make me want to go out into the world- you know how crazy that sounds.”
Sil had been a good friend to Titan. After he’d left Doman, Dustrius was the next option, but the machines were loud, being around them drained his energy, and he saw the suspicious dealings that happened in Dustrius’s cities. It was a dark place, and he hated their use of magic. Bridge was a mistake, one he hadn’t meant to fall into, but one that he was happy with nonetheless. Sil was the first townsfolk to get him up on his feet and point him towards an abandoned forge.
The interesting thing about Sil, though, was why she stayed in Bridge. She was born and raised here, by two parents who cared very much about her. When the Great Sickness came into Bridge, they both died, and left Sil alone. She had been caring for the Garden ever since, but Titan could tell she didn’t want to. She simply didn’t know where else to go from Bridge, and the decision was paralyzing her.
“You should go with them.” Titan spoke without thinking. He liked having Sil around, and appreciated the company more than he expressed. But he also knew the look in her eyes, the need to wander, to travel. She’d been stuck in this town, tied down by the legacy of her parents, and it was about time she left.
Sil laughed half-heartedly. “No, I couldn’t possibly. The Garden needs someone to care for her, and I’m pretty sure no one else in this town has a green thumb. Have you seen Marie’s houseplants?”
Titan was about to argue back, but decided that Sil would make that decision on her own. He turned back to the forge, pulling his gloves back on and taking the metal out of the fire. He didn’t see the uneasy look on Sil’s face before she walked away.
Alden King stared at the map, watching as the small colors danced around. The green pair was leaving a town called Pinsk, now headed for Capital. Good. I knew there was magic there. Every new recruit, every magic user would be useful in his plans.
The rattle of tracks outside his fort broke his concentration. His head snapped up to pay attention to the pale person standing before him, cloaked in shadows. Vam. His right-hand, the second-in-command. Her red eyes stood out, watching his every move, seeming to be reading his thoughts.
“You wanted something?” He asked, leaning back in his velvet chair.
“Word has spread of the attacks.” She whispered in a slithery tone, and Alden refused to shudder, though his skin crawled at the sound. “We cannot keep this secret for much longer. When will our forces advance?”
The king of Dustrius stood, placing his hands on the table with the map. This question was not an uncommon one from Vam, but he grew tired of repeating the same word. “Soon. Has any word reached the queen?”
“We do not suspect so. Our spies have heard no mention inside the castle.”
“Then we will wait.” Alden paused, then gestured at the map, pointing at the two green lights. “How are Nym and Heavenly faring? I see they’ve already found one.”
“Their skill is unparalleled, Alden King. You picked the right ones for the job.”
“It’s still not enough.” He grumbled. Magic users were not uncommon in Dustrius, but all the good ones were hidden in Domain. “Send out Ty and Flicker across the western paths.”
“Yes, your Majesty.” Vam bowed deeply, then exited the room. The king sat down in his chair again. He sighed, staring at the map as if looking deeply enough would tell him how to win this silent war.