A Promise of Fire

28th of Retulman, 1667 Age of Enlightenment

A warm morning wind blew as the sun dawned on Lionbrand, the City of Crossroads and the merchant capital of Singard. Warm amber light shined through the sleeping streets, warming the cold cobblestone roads for a day of business. Bakers warmed their ovens, blacksmiths lit their forges, and the factories began whirring to life. In but a few minutes, the once empty streets were soon crowded as hundreds upon thousands of men and women began making their way from their homes to their jobs as weavers, stonemasons, and iron workers among many others.

Bustling troubadours—singers, dancers, acrobats, and puppeteers—set out onto the main streets, side streets, street corners, and even alleyways to perform. They’d give the people of Lionbrand wonders beyond their wildest dreams in exchange for a handful of penters.

Many children began their day of work as well: some in their parents’ business, others in restaurants as dishwashers; some in factories doing hard labors, and others on corners as shoeshines and newspaper hawks. Other children, few they may be, were privileged enough to attend one of Lionbrand’s many schoolhouses where they were taught literacy, history, and mathematics.

Most children in the city lived rather content lives with their families, but there were those who weren’t so lucky. Of the children who lost their parents–to sickness, violence, or simply unable to care for them–they were forced to live on their own, crammed into small shanties or refuges in the city’s slums.

But, that wasn’t the only option for them. Near the heart of the city, tucked away in a calm little corner rested the city’s Galdic Temple; home for those young and lost souls with nowhere else to go.

All children were welcome, though fewer and fewer came by anymore. Some believed that human children simply didn’t need the temple anymore, and that there were other options available; humans were wasting their time in the temple learning about the Galdic Lineage and doing menial chores, as opposed to learning proper skills to ready them for the workforce.

It certainly wasn’t a coincidence that since the industrialization of the city and the need for more young workers, the temple nursery had diminished more and more. It was a vicious cycle: with fewer children in its nursery, the temple received less and less funding from the city’s lords to care for them; with less funding, the harder it was for the maidens to properly home and care for the children they already had, causing many of the children to leave of their own accord.

But, through hardships and tribulations, the maidens pressed on as they always had. One such maiden was the young Emli L’Aveline. Less than a year an official temple maiden, she worked diligently: caring for the children within her custody, assisting with the weekly ceremonies, and working hard to improve their community.

She stood in the kitchen that one spring morning, with her curly orange hair tucked into her old, passed down maiden’s coif, as she fervently worked to wash dishes and prepare breakfast before the children awoke; her lavender hands were pruned from the cold water, and her once white apron was stained with splotches of grease and soot.

There were five other sisters in the temple: Sisters Magda and Claire who had been there the longest, over forty and fifteen years respectively; then there were Sisters Lucie and Helene who’d both been maidens for around five years. Then there was the Maiden Superior, Lady Liza Valen who’d not only been in charge of the Lionbrand temple for more than fifty years, but she’d been an official maiden for over eighty. Despite her years of training and study, Sister Emli still had a long way to go.

She stepped back, drying her hands on her apron and looked at the pile of dishes she’d still yet to wash, as well as thought about the wide list of chores she still had to finish, and sighed. As the youngest maiden in the temple, she was often made to do the more grueling chores that the more experienced maidens simply didn’t want to do, but they could at least help her, she thought. Regardless, as the newest maiden, she had to prove herself. She took one more look at the stack of dishes and the tub of cold water, stretched her fingers, and went back to work.

Knock, knock.

Surprised, Emli looked to the window across the kitchen and saw a man standing outside. He had a mop of poorly kept dark red hair, dark olive skin, brown eyes, and a loving, warm smile. Emli’s eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face from cheek to cheek as she ran across the kitchen and threw the window open.

“Emecar! You’re back!” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. Taking in his scent, her nose wrinkled; she looked up at him and said, “You stink.”

“I’ve been on the road for two weeks. Of course, I stink!”

“And you didn’t think to take a bath before coming to see me,” she said crossing her arms.

“I promised that I’d come see you first thing when I got back,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her and smiled as she laughed. “Would you have me break that promise?”

“Not at all.” Blushing, she pressed her face into his chest and said, “I’ll take you: stink and all.”

She looked up into his eyes that made her feel so warm and at home, and he stared back into hers as he leaned forward and kissed her. She nearly melted in his arms. She hugged him tight, and he gave a small wince.

He gently pushed her back and said, “Hey, not so hard.”

“What? Am I too strong for you?”

“No, it’s just that I…” He held his tongue. That was never a good sign, thought Emli.

She took a step back and looked him up and down. His disheveled maroon coat didn’t seem to be in any worse condition than when he left. No new tears or patches sewn into its hem. She met his eyes and said, “What happened? Tell me.”

“Nothing happened,” said Emecar. “Just got a couple of bruises on the road.”

“You’re sure,” she asked bashfully.

“Of course, I’m sure,” he said climbing in through the window. “I’m a soldier of fortune, after all! I need to be able to take a good thwack here and there.”

The wood floor creaked beneath his feet. Emecar looked around the room, taking in the familiar scents of dirty dishwater and crusty old bread.

“Well, mademoiselle,” he said, “what chores still need be done?”

“No, no, Emecar,” said Emli. She puffed out her chest and tried to stand just an inch or two taller to meet his eyes. “It is my responsibility to do these chores on my own. It’s my duty as given by the Maiden Superior. I need to prove myself worthy of my gown.”

“Of course, you do, but that needn’t mean I can’t help a little, right?”

Emli sighed, and her cheeks flushed pink. She gestured to the dishes and said, “I must still finish all of these, then I have to start making breakfast before the children wake. If you’d like, you can help sweep the floor and clean the table.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Emecar picked up a broom from the nearby closet and began sweeping the dusty floor.

For the next several minutes, Emecar and Emli worked on cleaning up the kitchen and dining room for the day ahead. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, Emecar made sure to give her a small kiss on the cheek. Seeing her blush and hearing her laugh was one of the things he’d treasured most in the whole world.

As they worked, Emecar talked about his recent venture to the port city of Coldan Cove: the strange arcanist who briefly joined them on their journey, the haggard of goblins that attacked their caravan, and the rumors of fae emerging from the sea to steal children back to their realm.

Emli shivered.

“You don’t think anything like that could happen here, do you?”

“What? Fae nabbing children?” He laughed. “I promise, mademoiselle, as long as I’m here, that’ll never happen.”

“You speak so confidently,” she said somberly.

“Do I? I hadn’t noticed.”

Emli splashed him with the water from her dish tub. “Don’t be so arrogant!” He gave her a wry smile as the water dripped from his nose, and she couldn’t help but smile back. After setting the last of the wet dishes on the counter to dry, Emli dried her hands on her apron. “Thank you so much for your help, Emecar. Lady Liza has had me up to my neck in chores this morning.”

“What for?” He smirked and said, “You haven’t been sneaking sweets to the little ones again, have you?”

She splashed him again and said, “I did that one time!” She leaned onto the counter, stretching out her arms and back before getting to work drying off the damp dishes. “No, I must prove myself to the maidens. It’s my duty. I can’t let them see me slouch around, or not be able to handle myself.”

Growing up, Emecar heard all about a maidens’ duties. They served not only the temple, but the will of Sindelle the Elf-Mother. They were the record keepers from Lord High Lord Galdane the First all the way down to the current Lord High Lord, Gallon the Great. They connected past to the present, and they were to usher Singard into a bright future.

And yet Emecar only ever heard the maidens refer to their duty when they had to do something they didn’t want to do. Curious, he thought.

“Of course, you can handle yourself,” said Emecar. He picked up a dry towel from the counter and dried his face before helping her dry the remaining dishes. “Y’know what I think? I think Lady Liza likes you. She sees you working yourself to the bone, and she thinks ‘You know what, that girl is the best maiden we’ve had in sixty years!’”

“That’s what you think,” asked Emli.

“Absolutely! You aren’t like that last maiden we had. What was her name? Sister Cosette? Oh, dreadful woman, I say. She wasn’t here but two years; a right lazy one too. Didn’t like to do chores and was just plain nasty.” He scratched his chin as if lost in thought. “I think I was but thirteen or fourteen when she was reassigned elsewhere on Liza’s behalf.”

Emli smiled and rested her hand on his.

“Emecar, is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Not at all, mademoiselle,” he said. “I don’t do this for a reward.”

“I know, but it makes me feel guilty.” She flashed him a mischievous smile. “Surely, there is something you want?”

Emecar smiled back and said, “A kiss would be nice.”

Emli’s cheeks flushed pink, and she quickly looked away. Emli got like this sometimes, Emecar thought; he wasn’t sure why or what it meant. He touched her cheek and turned her face towards his. He got lost in her eyes of vibrant orange-amber that glistened like the warm, morning sun. There was something about Elven eyes that he found so completely entrancing: they were so unlike human eyes, just a misty wave of color.

Emli blushed. “You won’t be leaving soon, right? After all, you just got back.”

“It all depends. If the captain has urgent work that needs done, he may send me off, but if not, I can find some work in the city. Why?”

She hugged him tight, ignoring his winces of pain. He supposed it didn’t hurt that bad, and he hugged her back.

“D-Do you think we could—”

“What’s going on here, sister?”

Emli quickly pushed herself back from Emecar, and the two looked to see lady Liza, the temple’s Maiden Superior, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and her piercing green eyes glaring at them. She wasn’t wearing her coif, and her long silvery hair was tied into a long braid that draped down her back. Apart from a few small wrinkles on her cheeks and a pair of spectacles that rested on her nose, Liza had hardly aged a day in fifteen years.

“G’morning, madame,” said Emecar. “I was just helping Sister Emli with her morning chores. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Is that what you two were doing? Ha, you could’ve fooled me,” she said sternly.

Emecar looked and saw Emli’s cheeks brighten even more as she lowered her head.

“Sister Emli,” said Liza, “the children will be waking soon, and it appears that you haven’t even started making breakfast yet, let alone clean the dining room. Go help Sister Magda in the schoolroom, and then help Sisters Claire and Lucie get the children ready.” Her eyes turned to Emecar. “I’d like to speak with my son privately.”

“Y-Yes, madame.” Emli curtsied to Liza and turned to Emecar, blushing as she said, “Farewell, monsieur. I hope to see you soon.”

 “Farewell, mademoiselle.” He bowed, and with that, Emli quickly scurried out of the kitchen, leaving Emecar alone with Liza.

It was quiet. Emecar felt like a child again as Liza bored down at him with her stone-like demeanor. Well, not down exactly as he was now nearly a head taller than her, but he certainly felt smaller. Liza slowly strolled her way into the kitchen and closed the door behind before her stern façade faded away, and she began to giggle.

“How long have you and Sister Emli kept this little secret under my nose?”3

Emecar sighed, and he felt his cheeks grow warmer. “A couple months now. Since the start of the year, I’d say.”

“Really? How have I not…” Liza’s giggle turned into a bellowing laugh as tears began trickling down her cheeks. She calmed herself, taking a deep breath, and said, “An elf and a human. Back when I was a girl, it was hard to ever imagine such a thing.”

“I suppose it would be,” said Emecar.

“And a temple maiden too,” said Liza. “I’m sure people are bound to say a few things.”

“I suppose they will.”

“But I trust you two are getting along well,” she asked. “You both certainly looked to be when I walked in.”

Emecar blushed. “I like to think so.”

Liza crossed her arms and approached him just as she’d done dozens of times when he was little. “Alright, out with it,” she said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I guess,” Emecar started and took a deep breath, “should things continue, I-I’m afraid that, well I’ll be gone long before she, right? In sixty years, when I’m an old gray man, she’ll be younger than you are now. Not fair, is it?”

Liza didn’t respond. Instead, she gently rested a hand on his shoulder, and lifted his chin to look into his eyes, exactly as he’d done when he was a child. “Do you love her, Emecar?”

“Of course.”

Liza laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “Emecar, you’re allowed to love her. Love between elf and human isn’t as barred as it was when I was a girl. Yes, she’ll outlive you, but that’s just life. Blessings above, Emecar, there’s a good chance I’ll outlive you, what with your line of work, yet I’ve no qualms with you as my son. When you pass, she’ll either move on, or she won’t, but it’ll be her decision to make.”

Emecar smiled and quickly changed the subject. “So, can I help her with the chores or not?”

Liza scowled. “That girl has a duty, Emecar. I can’t have you doing the work for her.”

“I was just trying to help,” he said.

“Oh, is that what you were doing? You could’ve fooled me,” said Liza raising an eyebrow. Emecar’s head slumped into his shoulders, and Liza laughed again and changed the subject yet again. “So, how’s business? I think I overheard you say you and your brother got back from Coldan Cove last night?”

She heard that? How long had she been listening?

“Yes, just common guard work,” he said clearing his throat. “Five days there, five days back, plus two nights we spent on our own lookin’ up what we could about those rumors. We got a whole half-regalian for that job, y’know. I suppose I can’t complain; ain’t been much work lately, but this should cover the rest of the month.”

“At least you’re working and keeping your heads above water,” said Liza. She looked around, and Emecar could see there was a twinge of frustration on her face. That’s when he noticed the cupboards weren’t as full as they used to be, and that her once pristine green and white gown was beginning stain and tear. Was the High Lord withholding temple funds again? She gently ran her fingers across the kitchen counter and said, “You and your brother always were my little adventurers.”

“Speaking of brothers, how are the little ones,” asked Emecar. Normally, he liked checking in with the children as frequently as he could, but due to a strain of recent jobs that involved him trekking out of town for days if not weeks at a time, he hadn’t been able to visit them since the beginning of spring.

“They’ve been doing well. There aren’t as many as they used to be: Arnold and Harold left to go work in the steel mill, I believe; Annette left to sell newspapers.” Emecar could hear the pain in her voice as she trailed off, like that of shattered pride. “Kayo will begin work at the Geffroy stables. I believe he’ll be leaving near the end of the month.”

Arnold, Harold, and Annette were all gone, thought Emecar, and Kayo soon too? Arnold and Kayo were fifteen, Harold fourteen, and Anette only twelve. He supposed that was old enough to go work where they wanted, and he figured they’d be able to make some money for themselves. Arnold and Kayo were already considered grown adults by some.

With those three gone, and Kayo soon leaving, that would mean there were only five children left in the temple: Shiriam, Malinda, Isaac, Benjamin, and Adel. His stomach sank; there’d been nearly thirty of them while he was growing up, and when he’d left five years ago, there were more than twenty.

“What about Rukifelth,” asked Liza. “How’s your brother doing?”

“You know how he is: a grouch with grouchy tendencies,” said Emecar.

“Believe me, I know all about his grouchy tendencies,” laughed Liza.

Emecar laughed with her; he laughed so hard that his chest began to hurt, and the wound in his side began aching. He tried to hide his winces with coughs, but unfortunately, Liza wasn’t a fool, and she’d learned all of his little tricks and fibs. Nothing he did got past her, and when she caught wind of Emecar’s pain, her laughing immediately stopped, and her expression grew stern.

“Emecar, what happened,” she said.

“What do you mean, madame?”

“Don’t play me a fool, Emecar,” she said marching up to him. She quickly jabbed him in the ribs, and he grunted, nearly buckling over, and if not for the countertop, he almost certainly would have. With pinpoint precision, she seemingly knew exactly where the pain was coming from. “Show me” she snapped.

Emecar knew it was pointless to try and hide it anymore. He doffed his coat and lifted his shirt to reveal a crude bandage wrapped around his ribs and chest. A small stain of blood oozed through.

Liza’s eyes widened. “By fire, Emecar, what happened? How long has it been like this?”

“I’m fine. It’s all part of the job.” He flinched as Liza pressed harder into his side. “I-It was just a mangey little goblin. I was caught off guard and it gave me a good thwack. That’s it!”

Liza scowled and smacked him aside the head. “Was that a good enough thwack for you? Now tell me: how long has it been like this?”

Emecar sighed. “A couple of days. Maybe a week.”

“A-A week! Blighted blessings you little fool, you’re lucky this wound hasn’t festered with the way it looks! Now sit down and hold still!”

Liza yanked Emecar by the shoulder and forced him down into one of the rickety old kitchen chairs. She began to slowly remove the bandage to reveal that the wound underneath was even worse than Emecar had let on; not only was this supposed thwack horribly scabbed over, festering with pus, and poorly sutured, but it the stitching had already began to come undone.

She glared at him, and Emecar truly felt like he was a child again. Liza made her way to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a small pair of scissors, a washcloth, and some herbs. She began to slowly snip and remove the stitching from Emecar’s wound. He gritted his teeth, eventually having to bite down on his coat sleeve as Liza removed the last few bits of stitching. Once finished, she’d grabbed the herbs, mixed them with a small bit of water, and rinsed the washcloth with the mixture. Shen then pressed the cold cloth to Emecar’s wound.

“Who stitched you up like this,” she asked. “Your brother?”

“It was me,” he whispered. “I need to learn how to care for myself. What good am I if I can’t even bandage a simple wound?”

“This isn’t what I’d consider a simple wound,” she said. “Besides, it certainly wouldn’t have done you much good to leave it like this.”

She began to pull the cloth away and wipe off the dried blood and pus. Once the wound was clean enough, she set the cloth down and pressed the palm of her hand to the wound. Emecar winced; he knew what was coming next.

In old Galdic–the ancient language of the elves–Liza prayed: “Elf-Mother, guide my hand, my heart, and help me heal this child of his wounds.”

As she spoke, small blue tendrils of light–Aether; the color of transmutation–emerged from her fingertips and embedded themselves into the gash in Emecar’s side. Transmutation was the color used to alter and manipulate physical properties: it could make one strong enough to rip trees out at their roots, harden their skin until it was like stone, or–in Liza’s case–heal and mend wounds.

The strands of light wriggled around inside of him, causing Emecar to wince in both disgust and pain. He held his breath as the Aether began to suture his wound and seal it shut. Though it only took a few seconds, Emecar thought it felt so much longer.

As Liza pulled away her hand, Emecar let out a deep sigh of relief as the wisps of blue light faded. He looked down to see a freshly healed wound and a minor pink scar where the gash once was.

“Thank you, madame,” he said. Liza crossed her arms.

“Emecar, you can’t be afraid to ask for help. There’s nothing wrong with that; I know I’ve told you that a hundred times.” She stepped forward and looked into his eyes, smiling her warm motherly smile. “In the meantime, should this happen again: morgin’s leaf, yarrow, and marigolds; those should do the trick with deep cuts like this. Along with a firm bandage, you shouldn’t need any suturing.”

As he put his coat back on, he said, “I’m sorry, madame. I suppose I just—”

“No apologies,” Liza snapped. She looked out the window and saw just how high the sun had risen. With a great huff, she said, “Alright now, off with you. I can’t berate Sister Emli for not getting her chores done while I’m too busy lollygagging with you now, can I?”

“I suppose you could,” said Emecar wryly, “but that doesn’t sound very maiden-like, wouldn’t you say? Now, shall I leave through the front door, or will the window suffice?”

Liza gave him a playful smack on the arm before gesturing him out of the kitchen. “No more climbing through windows! You are more than welcome anytime,” she said. “I’m sure the children would be delighted to see you, and even the sisters; some more than others.”

Emecar smiled as Liza gently closed the kitchen door behind him.

It was remarkable, thought Emecar, just how much smaller the temple felt from when he was little. As a boy, he remembered how he and his brothers and sisters would run through the massive halls as if it were a castle. Now, he could really see just how shaky and old it was. Paint was chipping from the walls, the floors creaked with every step, and he could smell mildew coming from somewhere.

From the hallway, he entered the temple’s sanctum: filled with rows and rows of sturdy wooden benches leading up to a raised dais; at its front was an altar made of green oak wood, decorated with goldleaf and a violet silk draping along its face depicting the ancient Galdic symbol of Sindelle and at the far back of the dais was a statue depicting his holiness Lord High Lord Galdane the First and Sindelle the Elf-Mother. Windows of stained glass depicting the great High Lords of legends lined the walls, and above them–surrounding the entirety of the sanctum–was long script of arcane runes and glyphs that formed the great sigil of protection for the temple. Supposedly, the Maiden Superior knew the prayers to activate them, and would do so if the temple was ever under attack by invaders, but Emecar had never seen them active.

Finally, painted atop the ceiling was a lavish mural depicting Sindelle the Elf-Mother; surrounding her was her guardian: a colossal owl with feathers as red as blood, and four great wings that blazed with fire. Embedded within each wing was a singular glowing, red eye.

As he entered the sanctum and walked through its rows of benches, he heard the pattering of soft footsteps coming from down the next hallway, and a small bit of tiny voices chattering with one another.

Silently, Emecar made his way down the hall and arrived at the door to the nursery where he could hear the children inside. He pressed his hand to the old wooden door and reminisced about the countless days he’d spent playing in that room, as well as the numerous times he and Rukifelth tried to sneak out after dark and go off on little adventures of their own around the temple.

Inside, Emecar could hear Sisters Emli, Claire, and Lucie helping the younger children getting dressed and ready for the day. Perhaps he could step in and say good morning? After all, he hadn’t seen them in a couple weeks, but he decided against it. If they saw him, they’d want to play and ask about his adventures with big brother Rukifelth. They’d be incorrigible for the rest of the day, and he couldn’t inflict that upon the maidens.

First thing would be first, they’d get ready and do their schooling with the maidens: learning verses from the Galivre, mathematics, and literature—Liza was very adamant about teaching her children to read. Then, most of the day would be spent doing chores: cleaning, washing, dusting, and making sure the temple looked good and presentable. After that would be playtime, and that would be the only time he’d be able to sit down, talk, and play with his little brothers and sisters.

Listening in, he heard them all chattering about. Shiriam was singing an old good-morning song that Emecar sang to her almost every day; a song that he’d learned from his big brother Nicholas back when Emecar wasn’t even nine years old. He heard Isaac grumbling that the others had woken him from such a wonderful dream, something about a castle in the sky. Benjamin was scolding Adel, the youngest, for stealing his stuffed fox toy during bedtime. He couldn’t quite make out what Adel had said back, but afterwards he heard a loud thud. Little Malinda shouted at them, saying that they needed to calm down and play nicely. Emecar blushed; Malinda wouldn’t be so little anymore, he realized. She’d be nearly thirteen years old. When he’d left the temple, she was only eight. The only voice he couldn’t hear was Kayo, the oldest, but he supposed he was always a bit of a quiet one.

They were all growing up so fast, he thought, but no matter how big they got, they’d always be his little brothers and sisters.

Always.

Though the temple only got smaller as Emecar got older, it seemed that Lionbrand wouldn’t stop growing. He stepped outside and past the temple garden gates into the morning as sunlight peered through the tall buildings. Crowds of people rushed through the bustling streets: newsboys and girls lined almost every street corner, shouting out headlines to passersby; city-watchmen patrolled in pairs armed with muskets and side cudgels, keeping a stern eye out for anyone possibly up to no good; merchants set up their carts along the streets, hawking their wares at bystanders; the playful shouts of children running to school; and the disgruntled mumbles of men and women wading their way to work. In the air, high above the city skyline soared the mail couriers and their majestic, winged stallions delivering messages from all across Singard.

The city was alive as it ever was, and in less than an hour, the scent of factory smoke would fill the air.

Off in the distance, he spotted a crowd gathering near the city’s west roads. Striding down Lionbrand’s main streets was the opulent stagecoach of Lionbrand’s High Lord, Hartnell Leoric. The carriage was massive—large enough for someone to live in if they wanted to—decorated with gold lattice, black silk curtains, and the finest green oak wood in Singard. Surrounding the carriage were the High Lord’s personal entourage of crownsguard: eight Elven men all armed with master crafted falchions and muskets, wearing their clean green and maroon coats and tricorne hats.

Emecar watched as the stagecoach rolled by. A crownsguard at the coach’s flank gestured for him to stand back while the High Lord inside paid him no mind. Some offered bows and cheers to the High Lord, others looked on in reverence; Emecar just watched. One crownsguard pointed his falchion at Emecar and loudly scolded him for his impudence in the presence of the High Lord, but Emecar paid the crownsguard no heed. What did it matter if one of the High Lord’s men berated him? Why even bother? Was the man trying to embarrass him? Shame him? It wouldn’t lead to anything. They would just continue to stroll by, heading up the street to Lionbrand’s upper ward where the High Lord and his family would retreat to their luxurious estate alongside the other nobles and wealthy aristocrats.

Just as quickly as they strolled by, they were gone. The crowd dispersed, and Emecar scoffed as the carriage faded into the distance. He knew he wasn’t anyone important–just a lowly sellsword working for the city’s mercenary troupe–but never once had he been allowed audience with the High Lord. Even when the troupe was to be given an award for outstanding service in assisting the city, only the captain and fellow elves of the troupe were to attend the ceremony. For Emecar—or any other human—to step into the High Lord’s presence was said to be heresy.

But what was there to be done, thought Emecar. The High Lord had made up his mind about Emecar without ever meeting him, and so Emecar would do the same: High Lord Leoric was a pompous and shrill man. What did it matter if he thought these things? It wasn’t as if the High Lord cared about his opinion anyway.

Despite all of that, Emecar couldn’t help but wonder what the upper district must look like: their luxurious homes with massive yards and green parks. He wondered if it was true that some of them had houses bigger than the temple, and that there was a dedicated hunting ground for the nobles with a small lake at its center. He’d no idea and for all that mattered, he’d never truly find out, so he might as well fantasize.

Emecar shook his head and pressed through the crowded streets. As he made his way toward the market square, he gave a small greeting to several of the smaller business owners and merchants, many of whom he’d done work for in the past. There weren’t many people in Lionbrand who offered a kindly “hello” in the morning as most of them just wanted to get where they were going. It was understandable, but he figured even the smallest gesture of kindness could lighten someone’s day.

Be kind when others are cruel.

The smell of fresh bread and pastries mixed with the scent of smoke and smog as Emecar made his way through the square. At its heart was a great decorative fountain; small statuettes of owls surrounded it, and at the heart of the fountain was a sculpture of High Lord Gardrel Leonheart, the founder of Lionbrand with his sword pointed to the heavens. Engraved around its base were the ancient Galdic words: Audela isalûn, audela toil; Ga'folur sorit audayal! Beyond the rainbow, beyond the stars; fortune favors the brave!

All around were restaurants and eateries with some of the most heavenly smells Emecar could imagine. His stomach rumbled; it was time for breakfast. Emecar patted the coin purse strapped to his belt, listening to its satisfying jingle, and he made his way to a small bakery tucked between two much larger buildings: Martin’s.

Emecar tried the doorknob and felt it turn, and while the sign on the door hadn’t been turned out to open yet, the owners wouldn’t mind if he was a minute or two early.

He gave the door a quick couple knocks and stepped inside. The bakery’s owner, Antoine Martin–a portly Elven man with dusty gray hair and a thin moustache–was sweeping the floor while his wife kneaded dough back in the kitchen. Two large racks sat at the far end of the bakery, showing several beautifully baked loaves of bread, as well as dozens of delicate sweets and pastries: honey almond cakes, sugar walnut moonrolls, and apple jam turnovers. The sight of them alone nearly made Emecar’s mouth water.

Martin’s eyes darted up, and before he could tell their guest they weren’t open yet, his eyes beamed. “G’mornin’, Emecar! Up bright and early, eh?”

“Just helpin’ the maidens at the temple is all.” Emecar closed the door behind him and stepped in. “I hope you don’t mind my intrusion?”

“Not at all, my boy,” said the baker as he quickly made his way behind the counter. He took a small cloth from his waistband and began wiping away dust and crumbs from the countertop. “What can I getcha today?”

The sweet and savory smell of bread and pastries filled Emecar’s nostrils, tempting him more than he should; he felt like he could eat an entire cake on his own, but he knew better.

He swallowed hard, desperately shaking off the urge to buy more than he needed and said, “Just a loaf of bread please.”

“That’s it,” Martin said raising an eyebrow. Emecar’s stomach rumbled much louder, as if trying to convince him just how much he desperately wanted one of those delicate pastries, and the baker chuckled. “Y’know, my wife just put a batch of sweet rolls in the oven. They shouldn’t be but a couple minutes if you fancy a fresh one?”

Emecar’s stomach rumbled again, and he sighed. “Perhaps a sweet roll isn’t such a bad idea if it’s not much trouble.”

“Eh, no trouble at all, my boy. One loaf of bread and a fresh sweet roll will cost you five penters this mornin’.”

Emecar reached into his coin purse and fiddled out a single silver penter, one worth as much as ten coppers. He set it on the counter, and Martin took it, replacing it with five copper coins.

“A pleasure doin’ business with yeh,” said the baker, tucking the coin way. Emecar smiled and took three coins from the counter. “Eh, my boy, are you feelin’ alright?” He tapped his fingers beside the two coins still left on the table.

Emecar looked down at them, then back up at Martin. “I feel right as the sun is bright. Why do you ask?”

“Mother’s blessings upon you, Emecar,” said the baker with a wide, grateful smile as he took the remaining coins into his hand. “You’ve got a good head on those shoulders of yours, y’know? And with times growin’ as hard as they be, well, I won’t preach to yeh. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Be charitable when others are greedy.

Martin slid his way back into the kitchen, and after a few minutes he returned with Emecar’s loaf of bread and swirled sweet roll, its sugary glaze dripping down the side. It was a little embarrassing, Emecar thought, but his stomach rumbled, and he didn’t want to wait. The moment the roll landed in his hand, he took a large bite, and the sweet, sugary glaze dripped down his chin and onto his hand.

After ten days on the road with nothing but salty pork, hardtack, and dried fruit, Emecar felt as if the roll was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.

“By the way, Emecar,” said Martin clearing his throat, “have you heard anything unusual as of late?”

“Not particularly,” Emecar said licking his fingers. “At least, not more so than usual. Why?”

“Well, I was chattin’ with a merchant from Amber Meadows a day or two back, who be tellin’ me that they’ve been having all manner of strange goings on out there.”

“Such as?”

Martin looked nervously over his shoulder back at his wife–who gave him a disgruntled sniff–and then back to Emecar. “Voices echoing in the night,” he whispered, “an infestation of bugs eatin’ up crops, children goin’ missing.” He lowered his voice even further. “Fae doings. You don’t think anything like that can happen around here, do yeh?”

“Fae, eh,” said Emecar taking another bite. “When we was in Coldan Cove a few days back, we heard rumors about that too.”

“In Coldan Cove, you say,” asked the baker. Emecar nodded, wolfing down another bite of sweet roll. “Oh, that be bad. Coldan Cove ain’t much smaller than us.”

“We got nothin’ to worry about,” said Emecar. “Fae don’t come to big cities like this, and if they do, the crownsguard and the city-watch’ll keep everyone safe. If not them, I’ll personally lead the troupe to protect ya.”

In the back, Emecar heard Martin’s wife scoff. The baker quickly shushed her and turned back to Emecar uncomfortably, and perhaps a little nervous. “Aye, the missus is right, Emecar. Mother’s blessings upon you, but the rest of your lot ain’t the most kind or charitable.”

Emecar took one last massive bite, finishing his roll, and wiped his chin with his sleeve. “Then call out to me, eh? I’ll make sure nothin’ bad happens to this place.”

The baker chuckled and handed Emecar a cloth napkin. “Like I said boy, a good head on your shoulders, but you’re just one man. Only so much one man can do.”

The man was right, Emecar thought. He was just one man, but Lionbrand was his home, and he swore that he would do whatever he could to keep his home safe. Emecar wiped his hands clean of the sticky glaze and said, “Say, you don’t think I could get another one of those, eh? Rukifelth would be awfully upset if I didn’t get him something.”

The man laughed and stepped back to grab another sweet roll. Emecar tucked both the roll and his bread loaf into a small sack, paid the baker his two pennies, and continued on his trek home.