Hello, Everyone!
Last time, after learning about a possible war rising in Ekoba, our heroes made a speedy retreat out of the country's capital and headed towards Pamagos. Mary got a message from Gillean asking her to make a slight detour to plant one of his orange trees and they headed that way.
“I asked Tesaya for additional details on Balaine’s death,” Bruno said when they were a safe distance from the city. They’d just stopped to rest their horses. “She said he was found covered in jagged wounds and scorched by potent lightning magic. The elves surmise that there were two attackers, a mage and a fighter, both of whom teleported into his office and worked together to take him down.”
“What about his bow?” Mary said.
“Disappeared,” Bruno said, then looked at Mary. “But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Tesaya suspects that there’s a traitor in Falka’s Order.”
Mary’s heart skipped a beat. She spent a whole minute without saying a word. Inside her mind, a turmoil stirred. Two emotions fought for her attention: curiosity--who? what? why?!--and anger--why had Tesaya been so secretive about that Order?!
"We should go back to Myth Adofhaer to try and investigate Balaine's death," Aurum said.
"We can't simply go there!" Mary exclaimed. "We're Agents of Pamagos, and soon the elves might be at war with Pamagos!"
"Well, it would have been good to have an inside person," Bruno said, staring at her intently. "You know, someone who'd been born there and was related to Falka. But that someone didn’t have the guts to announce her heritage."
Mary hung her head. She couldn’t even remember why she’d refused to do that. It was all a blur of anger and frustration.
Later in the night, she sat on watch and remembered Balaine Endoras saying how happy and relieved he was that Halas' daughter turned out to be alive. Deep inside her heart, she felt that he had really cared about her father, but she’d let her anger and mistrust dictate her actions towards him.
Only because he had been there, and there had been nobody else she could yell at. He’d seemed like he could take it.
And now he was dead. He was dead. The thought circled around Mary’s head like an awful chant, until it stopped abruptly.
There was somebody else whom she’d yelled at recently.
She took her notebook and began to write. She scratched and redacted, tore and crumpled page after page, until, finally, she was ready with the message.
“Gillean,” she wrote in her Book of Shadows.
I feel like a terrible person. You’ve given me so much –
both in terms of magic, and compassion and empathy.
You’re always so good and patient! I feel like you’re a part of
my family, as weird and disjointed as it might be.
I care about you dearly and… I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I took out my anger on the pages
of your wonderful Book. I’m sorry for being selfish, ungrateful and unfair.
And I’m sorry for contacting you only when I needed something.
For what is worth, I promise I’ll do better. Please don’t hate me!
Mary
She waited for a long time before the answer came.
"Oh, my dear Mary…" it said.
"We give and we take, forever struggling to
balance ourselves, only to fail and get hurt.
I hold nothing against you. You are my chosen child,
my Hand in the world. How could I be angry with your
youth and vigor? I thrive on them!
I, too, mourn Balaine. He was honorable."
With tears in the corners of her eyes, Mary closed the Book and returned to her watch.
Mary, Bruno and Aurum travelled for two days before they reached Anzen, the first settlement on their way. Each night, when they looked at the overcast sky behind them, they saw the unsettling glow of distant campfires. Many campfires.
The trio entered Anzen and immediately received a warm welcome by the villagers. They still remembered the oranges the adventurers had given them only a few days ago. Adam and Bezar’s grandma invited them to spend the night at their barn, just like last time.
But things weren't like last time. When Mary and her friends told the family about the upcoming war, the grandma went as pale as a sheet. Through tears, she began describing the horrors that transpired the last time Ekoba took part in a war. The army had taken boys from all around the country then. Many--too many--of them hadn't returned.
"Maybe you could have Adam and Bezar go away or hide somewhere?" Mary suggested. "Just until the worst passes?"
"Can you take them with you?" the grandma said. "Get them away, out of Ekoba. Get them to Pamagos, so they can have lives there?"
The trio couldn't say 'no' to that plea. The grandma went out soon after and didn't come back for a long time.
On the following morning, Mary, Bruno and Aurum were faced with twelve young boys awkwardly awaiting their command. The grandma had talked to her neighbours, they had talked to theirs, and soon the whole village had learned about what was happening. Every family who had young men at the age where they'd be forcefully conscripted into the army, had gathered on the village square and were saying their goodbyes with sons, cousins or nephews. Men and women were crying, not knowing if they'd see their family ever again.
Mary, Bruno and Aurum shared a look. There it went, their speedious retreat. The boys didn't have horses--of course they didn't; the villagers were so poor that any animal with that much meat would have been eaten a long time ago--but they looked determined.
"We'll take care of them!" Mary said.
Such a noble trio of characters, eh? Let's see how that pans out :)
Next time - something BIG approaches! A new character. Ally? Foe? Something in between?
Who knows!
Find out when you read the episode!
Take care and be well!
Episodes of Mary Windfiddle's story come out every Monday and Thursday.
(Also, here's a link to the Chapter Guide, the Glossary and the Map for the series. You're welcome!)
An important disclaimer: These are my notes from a D&D game turned into a narrative. All the worldbuilding and NPC encounters belong to our DM, and all the actions of the other main characters (Aurum and Bruno) belong to my co-players. My contribution to the story is only everything Mary-related (actions, reactions, inner thoughts), as well as the writing itself.
