Well Journeyed

Gaul woke with a knock on the door. He stumbled out of bed and put a hand up to Duara, telling her to stay put.

He strode to the door, grabbing a pan as he did. The person knocking spoke before Gaul reached for the handle. “Halo friends,” A familiar voice said, “I see you fixed the door… kind of.”

Gaul relaxed, placed the pan down, and opened the door. A bramphian waited outside, smiling with a crooked grin. He wore a tattered overcoat with a bag slung on his back, and he had accumulated miles worth of dirt on his gray-ish fur. It was Sy, one of the bramphians that smuggled them out of Haford.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Gaul went and hugged him. And Gaul was not much of a hugger.

Sy patted him on the head with his paw. “Is it alright if I rest my legs inside?”

“Of course,” Gaul said, “please do so. This is your home after all.”

“Thank you, my friend.” Sy ducked his head down and found a stool near the eating table. He looked around, observed the changes and nodded when he spotted any. “It’s not much so much a home for me, as it is for you. It’s a place to rest, not to stay. So I feel I’m intruding regardless.”

“Nonsense,” Duara said. She sat up from her bed. Her morning-drowsiness had diminished, and was refreshed with excitement. “You’ve done so much for us, least we can do is allow you in through our door.”

“Oh?” Sy replied. “So it seems you’ve made your peace in Drethen, I was starting to worry that the destination was too self-serving from my understanding.”

Gaul waved his comment off and gestured towards his daughter. “Duara has made better headway than me, concerning the town that is. I’ve yet to find… well, what she’s found here.”

Sy frowned. “As I’ve heard, the journey from Haford is easy to walk, and the journeys beyond are the ones that’re the hardest.”

“So it seems.” Gaul poked at the embers in the hearth, and dropped in kindling to relight it. “I imagine I’m not the first to feel this way.”

“No, my friend. It’s a feeling that transcends wholly. As being a Runner, I know the grounds you traveled.”

“That’s comforting,” said Gaul while tending to an infant flame. “I’ve not much breakfast to prepare, I hope it’s enough to satisfy.”

“Ah!” Sy popped up his head. “Before you said that, I was wondering why I came here. Nonetheless, Bramphia—without bringing politics to your dinner table—has grown wise, dare I say, to our Leiren friends. They hope to grow fulfilling relationships, or rather, fruitful ones in the coming rebirth of our nation.”

“Rebirth?” asked Duara.

“Yes. It’s a lovely time to be a Bramphian, and to be a Runner. Don’t worry about it now, my friend, what you need to know is that I will make more appearances here in Drethen.”

The news gave Duara and Gaul a smile.

“Wonderful news,” said Gaul. He went to grab a bowl from the cupboards, then paused a moment. “Wait—how did I remind you of that?”

“Right, right. The purpose of my visits is to develop our safe havens—” Sy then scratched the back of his head. “—and that’s with the hope that our benevolence… pays off,” he coughed.

Quiet filled the room.

Duara sat atop her bed and pulled in her pillow to her chest. While squeezing it, she said, “Of course. Yes. Yes, I understand.”

Sy put up his paw-like hands. “No no. You must understand, it’s not as if I’m expecting any form of return. I’ve been doing this for many, many years—assisting Laerians that is—and when I come over, it’s to bring more supplies and to establish a more familial relationship with Drethen. I don’t mean to come in with a paw, awaiting payment for my services. It’s more so, I’ll come with arms full of gifts, and if you so happen to have any to leave for me, I’ll be like a mule to haul it back home.”

Gaul had prepared the morning stew, and placed it in front of Sy with a spoon.

Sy took a bite of it without looking at it. “Thank you, my friend,” said he with a satisfying breath.

Gaul went over to the cupboards to prep more vegetables to put into the forever stew. “It’s what we’ve been eating the past few days. Mostly broth and onions now. I suspect Duara picked out the bits of pemmican I added in there.”

“Have not!” replied Duara, “must’ve became apart of the broth.” She then looked away, mumbling while rubbing her thighs.

Meanwhile, Sy slurped up the remnants of his broth and gestured towards the door. He cleared his throat and said, “Come, come. I’ve brought gifts, as I’ve mentioned.”

Just beyond the cabin threshold, there stood a wheelbarrow, and inside were cartons and farming tools. Sy went over and unboxed a carton. “Supplies and all,” said he. Packed inside the carton were an ensemble of carrots, all colored in separate hues of orange, white, and purple. “The cartons are vegetables, spices, herbs, and some seeds too. You can see where I’m going with this.”

Duara picked up a carrot and dusted the soil from it. “So we’re to be farmers for Bramphia? Would Tavean be fine with that?”

Gaul chuckled.

“Right,” Duara said, “never stopped the Runners before.”

Sy enthusiastically raised a hand. “As it stands, Tavean has been fully aware of this. They’ve benefitted greatly from our endeavors, and they’re our first *formal allies. *Nevermind the politics of it all, though. And if I were to be honest, no.” His demeanor shifted, his head bowed as if to pay respects. “Personally, I don’t care for it—yet I’m obliged to say, Bramphia is interested in this.” He held up the spoon he used for his stew.

Duara glanced with concern towards her father. “It’s just a silly old spoon,” said she.

“Yes,” Gaul confirmed. “We’ve got dozens of those. As I’m sure plenty people do.” He tried to give a hearty laugh, but it came out weak and forced.

Sy nodded. “I’m not a fool. I understand it’s a hard ask, and yes, I’d return to buy more like it. The broth hadn’t warmed enough, and I saw no smoke rise from it. Yet every bite was warm.”

“Oh Sy,” said Gaul endearingly. “Take the spoons, it’s what we packed from Haford. Small trinkets, hoping to sell it if we need to. They’re light is all.”

Sy nodded again, slightly faster this time. “Mhm, yes. Oh yes, I see that now. And I’m assuming that Haford brought in Taveanic wood for their spoons. It sounds very, very much like them.”

The two Laerians sighed.

“Although.” Sy tapped his chin with a smile. “Enchantments are rare, and enchanters even rarer. And I’m quite weary from my travels. It’s more likely I imagined it.”

“I appreciate your vivid imagination,” Gaul confirmed.

“It’s a new Taeleera, my friend. As it stands, Bramphia solicitations aren’t to force your hand. Many of the original Runners have kept their sources unknown, and Bramphia couldn’t care less. I know—” Sy paused. “Perhaps, I don’t in the way that you do—what it’s like to struggle in our chosen way of life. That’s likely why Runners get along so well with Laerians!” With that, Sy laughed, a very raspy laugh, as if he’d not been accustomed to doing so. “In any case, I came here as a bearer of good news, not troubling news. And yes, I did say pay for the goods for any that you want to part with, food and… others if you change your mind.”

The Bramphian began to unload the wagon, and the Laerians hurried to aid in his efforts. With all of them concerned with the task, the task was quickly finished. Three crates unpacked, a settled stack of wooden planks, and now an empty wheelbarrow. One that Sy had already prepared to leave with.

“You’re off already?” asked Gaul.

“Yes,” Sy replied, “I’m hoping to stay longer stays in the coming days. I’m to head back to Bramphia, load another, and off to help and… solicit others.”

Duara walked to his side, readying for an embrace if he really was to go off. “Can’t you rest? Bramphia is weeks away.”

“It’s four days,” said Sy, “and once I reach the Bramphian border, the raildrags will get me to where I need to go.” Still, he smiled at a thought. “I could rest. But in truth, I can’t wait to see how where my journey takes me now.”

The word raildrags made Duara nauseous. “Don’t remind me of those awful things.”

“Awful?” Sy sniggered. “Would you rather have walked?”

Duara placed a hand to her chin, emphatically thinking about the question.

“No, she wouldn’t. She complained the entire time once she had to walk,” said Gaul.

With that comment, Duara lightly slapped her father’s arm. “Did not!”

Both Sy and Gaul laughed. Sy’s ear twitched, and he brought up his arm for the two to quiet. “There’s a young woman moving this way.” He sniffed the air, and then he relaxed. “Ah, it’s Ashya,” he said.

Soon after, the other two heard the footsteps. It definitely was Ashya. On her face, she carried a curious, yet nervous expression. Her eyes were fixed away from the group, and she held her clasped hands near her hip. “You see,” she started, “I was already walking this way, and I saw a looming figure walking this way. I waited nearby, deciding whether or not I should warn you—and, and—well, I’m not saying I’m a coward, I mean a meddler, or anything—so, you see, I’m not here out of malice or anything of that sorts.”

The rapid wording stunned Gaul and Duara. Sy, however, roared with laughter, and he patted his stomach, as if his meal were to leave it. “It’s forever a treat to be in Drethen.” He sniffed the air once more. “And a keeper too?”

Ashya pinched her lips together. “Not quite,” she squeaked.

In a bend in the distance, where the dirt roads started into cobble, Wiko walked hastily towards the group.

“I saw him earlier,” Ashya confessed. “Earlier after seeing the figure—the *you,” *she said at Sy. “In whatever circumstance, I called out for him—because I didn’t recognize you yet, I’m sorry. It’s early and I didn’t know what to expect.”

“Ah,” Sy put his hand to his chin while he nodded amicably. “I suppose I do look very similar to the others here. I can see why you got me mixed up, honestly Ashya, it’s completely understandable.”

Ashya raised both of her palms. “It’s what happened—I swear it.”

“I’m messing around,” Sy sneered, “It’s not a crime to be curious on happenings, in a place with very few happenings.”

“Does that—” Ashya pointed at the crates of food, “Does all that mean you’re staying?”

Sy shook his head. “I was heading out, in fact.”

Ashya pouted. “I suppose Drethen is a trifle compared to the other places you embark. Its all sheep—cattle, nothing really, I suppose its—”

“Ashya, please,” Sy interjected. “You know it’s not at all like that.”

By now, Wiko had traversed the road behind them, and walked into the conversation. He glanced uneasily towards Duara, but refocused his gaze back to Sy and then to Ashya. “Yes, as a Runner, Sy’s duty is to the pack. From Ryland’s reports, there’s a dire need for imports, ironically."

“How is Ryland?” asked Sy, then he turned to Gaul. “In our younger years, he helped me build this cabin. Most of those walls were cut by his axe.”

Wiko pulled out a notebook and scribbled onto it. “I did not know that.”

Gaul rubbed his neck. “Another debt to repay.”

“Debt? No—no, I wouldn’t think of it like that,” said Sy. “You see, half the town build that cabin. They’ve been knowing of our mission. When we come by, it meant that we’d have supplies from all over. Cheaper by us too. Tavean has always been our ally. Not overtly, but they’ve kept their eyes turned away, with good intentions—if you’d call it that.”

A pang took a hold of Gaul’s chest, and a bead of sweat formed around his brow, as the brow itself furrowed. “Half the town? Renem help me. I couldn’t possibly—I couldn’t possibly—”

“Possibly—what?” asked Sy.

“Possibly repay half the town!”

Ashya stepped closer to Gaul, she lifted a hand as a comforting attempt, but reconsidered his current state—unsure how to assist with a mere hand, decided to hold it back to her chest and say, “Certainly, Drethen doesn’t expect anything in return.”

“Of course, certainly,” replied Gaul in a slighted tone. “We’ve nothing to return.”

“Father…” Duara warned his demeanor. “It’d be bad faith to believe that after meeting them.” After she said that, she noticed Wiko furiously scribbling away. She threatened a stare, unfortunately, he never saw it, being too busy to notice. Duara eventually eased herself, and chuckled quietly.

“I haven’t met half the town,” Gaul said, “So I have less than half the knowledge I need to understand what they’d expect.”

Ashya straightened herself, and took a breath to reply.

Before she could, Sy clapped, and said, “I’ve got a splendid idea, or rather, you did Gaul. Yes, yes, I’ll contribute it to you if anyone ever asks. Nevermind me leaving, I have found it more productive for you to meet Drethen, formally. Er—not a formal meeting, but a meeting nonetheless.”

Ashya smiled at the idea. “Yes, what an exciting idea Gaul!”

“I did not think this idea! O’ Renem.”

Sy laughed heartily. “Then I must stay,” said Sy, flashing a sly smile to Gaul. “That is—if we’re to have this festival, that is.”

“Festival?" inquired Gaul, uneasily. “Duara, please, ration with them. Or wake me from this terrible dream. Whichever you find easiest, dear.” He felt his forehead with the back of his hand. “Sy, I’m forever indebted to you. One that I’ll hope to find a lifetime to reconcile with. Nevermind a whole village.”

Ashya took in a deep breath. “Drethen isn’t that large, really. Well—I suppose it depends on how you assume a village. Anyways, there’s only Aleuwin, he’s our tanner, Vellay, Grienne…”

Gaul couldn’t pick out whatever she was going on about. An ache formed just shy of his eyes, and it continuously grew with every name.

“Don’t forget Vallen,” said Wiko, as he briefly paused his scribbling.

“—And the chandler,” Duara said, “P—Palley,”

“Oh yes, and Paele, my aunt,” concluded Ashya. “So really, it’s not that large, I promise.”

While they were naming townfolk, Gaul had retired back into the cabin, and Sy as well.

When Gaul entered his cabin, he clamored onto a wooden chair. He folded his arms on the table and sunk his head into them.

“I don’t understand,” Sy said, “they’re not here to hurt you. I’m not here to hurt you, you know that. What’s the problem? Everyone has festivals or feasts this far out of the city.”

With a muffled voice, “Do they? If they do, it’s not for outsiders. Not for people they haven’t met,” said Gaul.

A silence lingered.

Faintly, Gaul could hear his daughter amongst her friends. Why, Duara would enjoy a festival.

The thought of enduring the stares that would surround him at the festival. Human eyes were slightly smaller than theirs. They pierced whenever they gaped, and surely, Gaul was expecting gawks in accompaniment. Yet, he worried more on the thoughts that pressed behind those eyes.

Sy sat in front of Gaul, placed a spoon in front of him. “My friend, there are things you can provide, if you feel you must. This country isn’t like mine. It isn’t like yours.”

Gaul picked up his head. His response was in his expression, a weary and drained pair of eyes, gazing upon the spoon his daughter had enchanted. “No, I’m afraid I have nothing to give. Nothing of use.”

There was giggling outside. For a moment, Gaul didn’t recognize it. It’d been months since he’s heard it. Maybe longer.

“Can you stay? At least until after—after this whole event."

Sy folded his arms. “Did I not already say that I would?”