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“Oh, and go retrieve the gardeners, they can resume their work now.”
“Of course, ma’am.” Walking the rest of the length of the greenhouse, Fendrick made his way out of the glass-panelled building via the alternative exit. Spying a group of gardeners all smoking under a poorly constructed canopy, he waved them back over to the greenhouse as he erected his umbrella. Stamping out their smokes, they quickly made their way past the soldier and shuffled back into the greenhouse. “The next step of her plan… An awful lot of trust to place in a human less than a decade into his tenure in The Forgotten. Getting another group together is going to be just as painful as last time, isn’t it?” Fendrick turned to his right and nodded at the tall, burly elf stood beside him.
“That it is, Fendrick. It may be worth seeking the aid of another of the senior command; Hovarth, or Hanson perhaps?” Attempting to light his own cigarette with a match, Fendrick stepped in to assist, providing shelter for the pilot flame with his hands. “Thanks, boy.”
“No problem, Tristan. Sir.” Holding the umbrella over himself and Tristan, the two made their way out of the palace gardens towards the town proper.
“Grief is a terrible thing. The way it has distorted your mind is troublesome.” Tristan took a drag and blew a cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“Sir?”
“I’m not real, boy. You know that?”
Fendrick massaged his temples, “I do.”
“You need to get on with your life and put me aside. Being plagued by the ghost of your superior is no way for a young lad as yourself to live.” Tristan offered the cigarette to Fendrick before it was summarily declined, “Oh yeah.”
“You think I haven’t tried? You’ve been with me since the funeral. No matter what I do, you’re always watching me. I can’t say that you haven’t helped though; it’s been nice having you around again.”
“Aye, and it’s been nice having you under my wing once more.” Tristan cracked a smile at Fendrick, the lines in his skin creasing and exaggerating his age.
“Unless something changes, it seems you’re stuck with me for the time being; if it’s not too much to ask, your continued tutelage would be appreciated.” The pair made their way to the stairs down to the lower levels of the city, and Fendrick kept his eyes open for onlookers to his lunacy.
“No problem, but you realise anything I come up with you already knew, deep down at the least?” Tristan flicked the cigarette butt away, and it vanished amongst the grey rain filled air.
“I guess. But it’s nice to hear it from you. Keeps me honest. Need help lighting another?”
Tristan placed the next cigarette in his mouth and began striking a new match, “I’ll be alright, thanks.”
Fendrick continued through the city, making his way to the barracks at its eastern edge. The sun cracked through the thick grey clouds, its light dazzling the pair in the numerous puddles littered throughout the streets. Dipping into a nearby alley, they stumbled upon a pair of elves collapsed in a slump – their clothes soaked through with rain and hair sodden.
“Another casualty of the city.” Tristan smacked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, before taking another drag from his cigarette.
Silently, Fendrick took a closer look at the two unconscious fey. Their skin was tight and emaciated, with sunken eyes and hollow cheeks.
“Withdrawals. Luckily, you never saw me at my worst; thank fuck for arcanum rations in The Forgotten. Best part of the job.” Tristan stepped over the bodies, and Fendrick followed suit to protect his mentor from the rain.
“That benefit was always lost on me unfortunately; the alternative they offer is an extra ten silver in my stipend. Buys the first round at the pub every month.”
“I remember Dai starting that tradition. Penance for not being born three hundred years ago and experiencing the Great Fallout if I’m not mistaken.”
“Among other things. I always liked to think it was because you ugly bastards were jealous of my rugged good looks,” said Fendrick, cracking a wry smile at Tristan.
“Cheeky bastard. Despite my fucked-up face I never had any trouble with the ladies. No jealousy here. Dai on the other hand looks like a wrinkled ball-sack and hasn’t seen action in centuries.” The pair shared a chuckle at the remarks, as Fendrick turned into the city’s main street. It was nearing mid-afternoon and the merchant stalls were just about readying to shut for the day.
“No luck for them today. It’s been raining since noon,” said Fendrick in idle chatter with Tristan.
“What do these markets even sell? Never really bothered leaving the military quarter since joining The Forgotten. Trinkets and fucked-up food from our accursed forest?”
“You hit the nail on the head. A bunch of foragers looking to make enough money to buy their arcanum. Not like they’ve anyone to sell to; no one comes to this god-forsaken part of the world with how dangerous the forest is. Just other junkies and addicts.” Fendrick snarled as he watched a slim female elf struggling with some pots and baskets of odds and ends.
“Mind your tongue. This is a side of you I rarely got to see while I was alive. If the others knew how… disrespectful you can be. You wouldn’t hear the end of it. Barely took you a week with me before you dropped your meek disposition.”
“Fuck. Sorry, Tristan. It’s just so frustrating, having watched the people’s health decline so rapidly during my short life. I don’t think I even remember a time when everyone wasn’t struggling to get through the day with what little magic they could retain.”
“Aye, you were born, what? Twenty something years ago? The great tree has been in decline for the last half a century. Fenerra and our people have been at their wits’ end, trying to scrape by with what little arcanum we can produce.” Glancing back towards the alley, Tristan continued, “Just have some compassion for your countrymen. They didn’t ask for this. Living as long as we elves do with a curse such as ours is hard enough without us judging each other for what we can’t change.”
“Tell that to people who picked on me my entire childhood for being the child of the local hags. For being experimented on. For being in Fenerra’s good graces.”
“Is that what you call it, lad? Good graces?” Tristan flashed a toothy grin at his friend, “I’ve seen what you two get up to in private.”
“You old perv’.”
Tristan chuckled and slapped Fendrick on the back, before pulling him in close, “Just try not to let this place fuck you up more than it already has.”
“I’ll try, sir.”
“Thanks, boy.” Tristan pushed him aside and stepped forward, “We’re back at the barracks; I’ll keep my mouth shut and go about my business while you go and round up your troops. Remember what I said about asking the senior command.”
“I will, hopefully the fifth will have people to spare.”
“Aye, and don’t forget to ask Dai and Welk. I’m sure they’d be happy to come along, you’ve a bond of loss that will tie you closer to them than most others. I’m sure they’ll come around.” Stamping out his cigarette, Tristan waved off Fendrick as he collapsed his umbrella and stepped through the tall oaken doors into the barracks. Waiting a few seconds, Tristan joined him, slipping into the closing doorway behind his keeper.
