seek and ye shall find [solo]

[Vendredi]

A cute little origins story. :)


When he woke up, his mother was gone, and the circumstances around her departure was a mystery to Firelis Tyv’ern only. None of the others seemed the least bit surprised. That angered Fii. He sulked for all of five seconds, his mother’s departure note crumpled and clenched tight in his fists, before stalking off to find his father.

Child, the crumpled vellum read. I have gone away. Stay with your father. Keep yourself safe. Farewell.



They were nomads. Wanderers. Weary travellers who were always on the road, occasionally stopping to earn a bit of coin before journeying onward. They were family, though only a few were related by blood. They had no one but themselves. They could love each other and hurt each other because they were a rough, hard people, but never before had Firelis Tyv’ern thought that they would leave each other.

The group had always grown. They picked up stragglers, sometimes. Other times they buried their own because of diseases or ill fortune. Never once in the past sixteen years had anyone left. Fii had grown up knowing nothing else.

“Why’re we always leaving places?” he asked once, many years ago, beneath a canopy of stars far away from here. He had laid in his mother’s lap. Her fingers ran through his hair gently, and he leaned into her touch.

“Because we have no homes,” said his mother, and there was something in her eyes then. He recognized it as sorrow years later, but never understood it. “But we have each other,” his mother continued, “and that’s just as good.”

He burrowed into her embrace, and slept contently that night.



“Where is she?” Fii demanded when he found the man. “Where could she go?”

“Who?” the man replied, his back turned to Fii, strong arms drawing water from the well behind the barn. His father was a strongman of forty, a mercenary by trade, with arms large enough to crash a man’s windpipe with raw strength.

“My mother,” Fii said, arms crossing against his chest.

The elder man paused a second in his movement, as though to consider something. Then his arms were moving again, pulling a bucket up the well. “Did she leave for good?” he asked mildly.

The mildness of his father’s tone angered Fii.

“Yes!” he snapped, and began pacing. His feet stomped against dry dirt and sent dust flying into the air. “Gone. No goodbyes. No reason. Nothing. I don’t understand. Why would she leave us? Where would she go? Where could she go?”

When the water bucket was perched safely on the ground, his father stopped and turned around to face the boy. Looked Fii right in the eye until the boy stopped pacing. “She’s a grown woman, boy,” he said gruffly. “She’s got legs. She can go anywhere.”

Stopped in his tracks, Fii looked down and threw his hands into the air, aghast. “But she’s gone. Don’t you care?”

His father looked at him strangely, pondering some faraway thought that Fii was not privy to. Then the man turned away and picked up the water bucket. A sign of dismissal. Some conclusion had been reached and drawn, Fii knew not what.

“Take today off, boy. Maybe she’ll be back by nightfall,” his father said and walked away.

“You don’t care,” Fii wailed in sudden, horrified surprise, rooted in his spot. “What if she died?”

That was when father burst out in loud, uncontrolled laughter.

[Vendredi]

His mother wasn’t back by nightfall. Neither was Fii.

He had sulked for a solid hour after storming off alone. Then, after the rest of his adopted and blood kin had scattered for the day to earn their keep, Fii sneaked away on his own. He had a single gold coin in his pocket, and a slab of bread and an apple wrapped in cheesecloth slung on his back. He had the unbridled arrogance of an untested youth who sincerely believed that life would bend his way with every fiber of his being.

Fii hadn’t had a clue about where to begin. So he began with the city.

Scara Brae was a good hour’s walk from the abandoned farmhouse his kin had commandeered for their duration in the area, but Fii was young and angry, and so it took him significantly less. He half-ran down the well trodden gravel road and made his way to the city walls. There, he stood for a while, catching his breath while watching the city guards at the gates. The line going through the gates was long today.

Too long, Fii thought, when he had finally caught his breath. Then he turned heels and dashed off again, to the corner where two faces of the city walls met. That was where the gutters were, where the rats were the fattest and men the meanest.

Fii and his kin had only been around this land a week, but by now Fii knew the lay of the city well. The first day they were here, Fii had scouted out the criminal haunts and the city guards’ folds. The second night, he hung with the street rats, and they showed him the gutter tunnels leading in and out. All cities were the same. There was always more than one way out, and by extension, more than one way in. Thievery was the trade of the prepared.

A twist, and Fii skidded to a stop in front of a tunnel over a ditch of fetid wastes. The opening was small -- Fii had to bend low to fit -- and the smell almost sent him gagging. There were thin ledges at the two sides of the tunnel, and they served as footholds to avoid the ditch below.

With one last breath of clean air, Fii shuffled in.

[Vendredi]

The drag through the gutter was suffocating, heat and stench gushing up from below Fii with every step. He cursed himself the whole way through, and cursed himself when he stumbled out, now smelling like something puked out of a sick cat’s gut. The minutes-long journey felt far longer than it took.

Fii made it through, regardless. The idea of turning back hadn’t once entered his thoughts. His mother once called him a single-minded fool in humor and half exasperation. Fii had always thought she was serious.

The other end of the tunnel was within the city walls, in an area where half-collapsed huts and wooden shanties were propped up against small mountains of trash. There was a thin, sprawling dirt path that would eventually lead to the city proper, and there was the ditch of sewage where smaller gutters from all over the city met. The trash here included people, too. Forgotten children abandoned like wild animals, women with no where else to turn, maimed men in drunken stupor, old folks waiting for the day their lives end. Few reacted when Fii stumbled out. The ones who did soon turned back to their daily grind. The folks here weren’t the kind to be curious.

He wiped his hands on his rough, linen pants, and grimaced in disgust at the sticky brown goo that now covered his shoes and knees. Then he shrugged, and took off down the brown, beaten path.

[Vendredi]

“Ho, Fii,” came a voice to his right, as soon as Fii slide down on a stool in front of the bar.

“Ho, Rat,” Fii nodded back.

In the corners of of a little known alley, this small tavern was Fii’s default haunt in the city. It was close to the docks but not quite there. The place was ran by a terrifying matron who traded in gossip and hearsay, and the regular crowd here liked to say that she was more a whirling cesspool of information than a person.

Rat was her son, one of the first people Fii had met in this city, and possibly the shrewdest boy Fii had ever known.

“Came to ask your mam something,” Fii said, fingers clasped tight atop the wooden counter.

“Yeah?” Rat grinned, drifting close. Then he yelled. “Mam! Question for ye.”

The matron came waddling down the bar moments later. Fii offered her his gold coin and a hopeful look. She tested the coin with her teeth. Finding it satisfactory, she nodded at him, and handed him a few silver coppers of change back. Fii breathed, and scoured his mother’s vellum out of a pocket, smoothing it flat on top of the bar.

“My mother,” he started. “She disappeared this morn’. Trying to figure out where she’d go. You heard anything?”

“Now, I’ve got rumours of most of your lot,” the matron said. “Folks talk about hiring your people, you know? Afraid, some of them are. Like to know who they're hiring.”

Fii knew. Charlatans and thieves and liars. That’s what they call us. Those words had always sparked a burning inner rage. The type of rage that fueled his thieving habits to the utmost.

“But your mam?” There was a frown on the matron’s face, and that made Fii’s heart fall. “I’ve got nothing on your mam.”

The trip here had been a blind dart thrown, and he had been hoping for luck where there was none to be had. His mother was a discreet, sensible woman, the honest sort. Of course there would be no rumours. Why should he have expected otherwise? Because you’re a single-minded fool, some part of his mind offered.

“But,” the matron continued, her face softening. She pushed the vellum back towards Fii. “I’ve got a couple of contacts who knew men working with her yesterday. Try your luck with them, boy.”

Fii nodded, sullen. He stuffed the note back in his pocket, and stood. The matron offered him names and an address, which he committed to memory. That was somewhere to begin, at least.

“I’ll go with ya,” Rat chattered, following Fii out the door. “I know that place where--”

[Vendredi]

Rat chattered the whole way, spittle flying occasionally as he spoke incessantly on about everything and nothing at once. Fii was silent throughout, and somewhere between the second alley they ducked down and the fourth bridge they crossed, Fii stopped hearing Rat.

Rat was named for his ratty clothing, for his wily speech, for his abnormally large front teeth and his ability to be a pest in every situation. Despite all that, Rat knew every escape route and every shortcut within the city. He was an useful sort of friend to have, but not the quietest.

It took them half an hour to find the matron’s contacts, who then redirected them to a granary on the other side of the city. Fii’s frustrations set the pace, and he pushed himself and Rat hard beneath the early afternoon’s glaring sun. It was another good hour getting to the granary, and that was with Rat and Fii racing down rooftops. The sun had sunk a good stretch or two by the time they got there.

The pair of boys slid down one last copper pipe, until they finally stood on solid ground. They were close to the part of the city where Fii had entered earlier. They were both rank with sweat, and Rat was wheezing even as he blathered on. Fii fared better. He had spent years running from other thieves and law enforcement. This much wouldn’t knock the air out of him.

The granary itself was an old, abandoned thing, built with a limestone base and a wooden roof, two stories tall from the outside and large enough to sleep two dozen men comfortably. The stone had been weathered smooth, and the wood looked chipped at the ends. It stood largely alone. Few buildings surrounded, and the few that did were placed far apart. It smelt old, too. It smelt like dry rot and dust and ancient mold.

Fii stilled, and did not walk forward. Something eerie was in the air. There were two silent crows perched atop the roof, and no other signs of life. Even Rat must have caught on and sensed something, for his chattering came to a lull.

“We can turn back?” Rat offered, moments later. “Looks like a dead end, dunn’it?”

Fii hesitated. Then he shook his head. “No. Let’s go in.”

He was a single-minded fool, and he wasn’t the giving up sort.

[Vendredi]

The lock into the granary took Fii only seconds to pick. The insides of the granary fared no better than the outside. There were cobwebs clinging to the walls and dust on the ground and in the corners, and dried straw littered everywhere. The first floor had nothing but rickety, broken, chair, a fleet of stairs leading up, and another leading down.

“Footprints,” Rat hissed, pointing down. “Lots of them.”

Fii looked, and indeed, there were. Large footprints. Men’s boots. A smaller pair. A woman’s? The prints were clear as day in the layer of dust that coated the ground, and they went everywhere. Someone had been here recently. Would they still be here? Was his mother one of them?

Rat followed Fii, and they moved carefully, quietly, as though afraid to disturb the eerie atmosphere that permeated the place. The stairs up creaked as they climbed. The second floor, however, offered fewer clues than the first. There was nothing more than a few broken barrels. Disappointed, they made their way down. The basement, then, thought Fii.

The stairs downwards to the cellars were narrow and barely fit one, so Fii took the lead. He edged down slowly. The thin hall that housed the stairs was dark and damp, a sharp contrast to the upper floors of the granary. A cold draft upwards brought the sickly sweet smell of rot. There was another smell here, too, but it was foreign to Fii and he knew not what it was.

“Wicked,” Rat murmured, eyes bright, as soon as they were down.

The underground cellar was vast; far bigger than it had a right to be, and judging by the span of the ceiling, far larger than the size of the granary from the outside. Around the stairway, wooden crates and metal cages were stacked up to the roof, hindering their line of sight to the rest of the cellar, but also hindering echoes from Rat’s voice. A beacon of torchlight shone faintly in the distance. It cast whispery shadows upon and around the boys.

“Quiet,” Fii muttered back. He sidled forward, keeping his back close to the crates. The solid wood behind his back offered some semblance of safety, assuaging some of Fii’s nerves. He peeked out between the tight opening between two heaps of crates, to the rest of the cellar.

Shadowy figures were moving in front of the torchlight. There were three, mayhaps four of them. Two were seated at a small table near the center of the cellar. One learned against the wall. The last was squatting on the ground, shoveling something in a corner. There were cages, with things -- animals?-- in them along the far wall, and there were hooks, hanging from the ceiling.

And then, there were the things hanging from the hooks.

A chill ran up Fii’s back. Suddenly, the solid wood at his back did nothing to assuage his nerves. There was no comfort here, and every instinct he had were beckoning Fii to flee.

[Vendredi]

Rat, now tired of waiting, plastered himself against Fii and leaned across Fii’s shoulders for a look as well. Moments later, Rat pulled back, and even with the shadows, Fii could see his companion’s face turning ashen.

“Oh,” Rat said.

“Oh,” Fii echoed.

There were bodies swinging from the hooks, hung by the neck, like slabs of meat for the butchering. They were too far to see clearly, but those bodies were clearly human and small. Fii could imagine no other creature with that shape. There were so many. Dozens, if not more.

Oh.

They had stumbled upon something. Something big. Something bloody. Something criminal. Something out of their leagues. Something my mother was involved in?

“We should…” mouth dry, Fii fumbled for words, His voice was as small as he could make it, but every word felt too loud and pounded in his ears. “We should leave.”

“Yeah,” Rat agreed, quiet as well.

Neither of them moved. Fear and uncertainty rooted their legs to the ground. Their breathing was shallow and irregular, and both seemed to have shrunk into themselves. Neither wanted to draw attention. Suddenly, their actions mere moments ago felt too bold, too reckless.

With a silent gulp, Fii began inching back towards the staircase, beckoning Rat to follow. Whatever he had sought to find, it would not be here. My mother, Fii thought, would have no part of this.

[Vendredi]

Rat was named for his lousy eating habits, his ability to get underfoot at all times, his ability to scurry off in a flash, and his ability to be a pest in every situation. Rat was not named for his agility or grace. So when Rat tripped on his own shoes somewhere between the third and fifth stair, Fii grimaced, but was not completely surprised.

The fall was loud enough to draw attention. From the stairs, they could hear the echoes of startled footsteps and chairs scraping against the stone ground.

Fii's eyes widened. Oh.

“Run,” Fii yelled, and took off upwards, all semblance of care abandoned. His heart pounded in his ears, and his focus narrowed to the light at the top of the stairs. Rat scrambled behind him. They raced up, even as heavy footsteps thudded behind.

Half a dozen thoughts flitted through Fii’s mind as his legs pumped, including we’ve seen too much and Y’edda, let me stay alive, but none stayed in his mind. A last trio of steps, and he was at the top of the stairs. Behind him, Rat pushed. Fii saw the ground and felt himself stumble down, even as Rat jumped past and landed on Fii’s fingers. Ahh--

“Sorry,” Rat cried, scurrying away for the door.

Fii grunted, and followed in short order. Now was not the time to be fragile. He was not fragile. Behind them, the footsteps grew heavier with every ticking second. The pursuers were ever closer. His blood thrummed with adrenaline. In front, Rat had pushed open the door, and was dashing out.

Fii was close now. He could feel the wind against his face now. He could almost taste the sunlight and the city air. Sweat glistened upon his brows.

Something was swiping at him. Swiping at his back. Something sharp. Something blunt. The footsteps were so close they were practically in his ears.

Then he was out, but so were his pursuers. Rat had bolted to the left, so Fii darted to the right. As he ran, his head turned slightly, and he could see the pursuers from the peripherals of his eyes. Men, all four of them. Two had split off for Rat. The other two trailed him tightly. They were large, but fast. One had a stave. The other held a sword. Both had a determined, mean look.

Abruptly, Rat screamed, high and shrill. No, Fii thought. His heart clenched in dread and terror. The scream seemed to make Fii’s pursuers more determined, more confident.

Then, before he could react, before he saw anything, before he could even scream, Fii felt the impact of a wood bashing into the back of his skull. Brilliant white filled his vision. His thoughts splintered and exploded into a light nothingness. Pain erupted with a flash of color to chase away the white, and his eyes watered and saw nothing. Then nothingness became a void, and the void became his world.

[Vendredi]

When he came to, Fii was hanging from a cage, next to corpses hanging by their necks, and an unconscious Rat in another cage. The cage was too small to maneuver in, and metal bars pressed uncomfortably against his spine. The back of his head ached like someone had smashed a ten-ton iron rod into it. White spots still specked his vision. Fii patted the back of his head. His fingers came away with blood.

They were back in that cellar. The men -- his pursuers -- were crowded around the little table, playing cards.

The cellar was still dark and damp. It still smelt of rot and something else. Now, close enough to see and looking at the cages lined against the wall, Fii thought he knew what that something else was.

It was the smell of terror and wretched woe, of people pushed well past their endurance, pushed to their very limits of being.

Children. They had children in those cages. Skittish, soundless, terrified children, the lot of them. Thin and emancipated, battered and bruised, the oldest couldn’t have been more than fourteen, and the youngest no more than three. His breath hitched. Not for the first time today, Fii felt fear gripping his heart with its terrible jaws.

The men must have heard him, for one of them turned and walked towards Fii. A tall, thin one, with spectacles and thinning grey hair. The man was dressed roughly, with a thin gray jerkins and light armour, and poor leather breeches. They all dressed roughly, along similar veins.

“Awake, princess?” The man grinned. He even sounded friendly.

Fii croaked a response and rattled the bars of his cage. His tongue had yet to find its use yet after that battering.

The man laughed. “Well, I’d say you’re awake. In good health too.” His eyes gleamed. His voice lost its playful edge. “Now, princess. Who sent you and your friend?”

“W--what?” Fii looked up, bewildered. His voice sounded like sandstone grinding against gravel and rocks.

The man stepped closer, a hand now gripping the bars of the cage. His other hand had found a knife somewhere, and was toying with it. His eyes found Fii’s, and the man bared his teeth. Those teeth were ominously sharp.

“Who sent you? That Rattan bastard? Viresh?” A wider grin. “The fucking City Guard? Aren’t you too young for that shit?”

“I--” Fii swallowed, huddling backwards as far as he could go.To his side, Rat moaned, but had yet to regain consciousness. “Nobody,” he managed.

The man’s response was a raised brow of disbelief. The sheath on the knife went off, and the blade began slapping on the cage’s bars. The other three had stopped their game, and were watching with interest.

“I’m looking for someone,” Fii spieled out. Never once in his life had he been this close to real danger. He was a goddamned pickpocket. The worst he had ever faced was a night or two behind a law-keeper’s bars. Nothing serious. Nothing real. Nothing like this.

Today, he was learning that danger and fear loosened his tongue far more quickly than anything else did.

“My mother. Avesta née Tyv’ern. Someone said she was here yesterday. I-- I was hoping to find her here. She disappeared this morning.”

In front of him, the man began chortling. The knife found itself sheathed in the torso of a nearby corpse. The coppery stink of blood soon wafted through the air. Fii shuddered, huddled tighter, and pulled his arms around his knees.

“Avesta’s son!” The man laughed. “That bitch! Well, princess, you won’t find her here to-day.”

[Vendredi]

The confirmation that his mother knew these people -- or that they knew her -- loosened something in Fii. He felt lightheaded, empty, as though the words that had poured out of his lips carried his soul with them.

“You know her,” Fii whispered.

By now, the man was walking back to the table, where the other three had continued their game. He was still chortling, laughing at a joke that only he knew. “We know that bitch well, princess. Best bodyguard we've hired. Too bad the bitch quit.”

Fii turned away. His eyes gazed, unfocused, at the blood dripping out of the corpse beside him, where the knife had plunged, and the many bodies hanging alongside it. These bodies, too, were children. Older than the ones in the cage, all unclothed, each marked by a burnt bird symbol on the arm. One had its mouth open. Fii saw no tongue.

Fresh corpse, some abstract part of his mind supplied, unhelpfully. Dead a day? Can’t be more than two. See the throat? Slit..

The man must have saw Fii staring, because he turned back instead of sitting down. “Avesta slit their throats herself,” he said, amused. “Possibly why she left.”

Fii gagged. “Who’re you people?”

The man’s eyes gleamed in the dark. “Slavers, that’s who we are.” As though purposely being cruel, he taunted. “See the hanging meat? Useless stock.Too old.”

“You,” the man continued, pacing closer to Fii. Fii could smell the stink of soured breath. “You’re too old too. So is your friend.”

Then the slaver pulled back and beamed. “But you’re Avesta’s son. Suppose I should consider that too.” He clapped his hands. Once. Twice. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to try. Well now, you’re stock, too.”

In his cage, Fii clenched his fist. The metal bars were unbearably cold against his back, but the heat in his heart raged and burnt, and it warred with the flood of fear that was drowning his mind. Fury kept him from weeping. Horror kept his mouth shut.

Witty. Composed. Hard. Capable. That was his mother. That was Avesta née Tyv’ern. Today, Fii learned she was another thing altogether. Slaver. Murderess. Today, Fii learned that he was a fool, and not a very brave one.

[Vendredi]

There was no sun into the cellar, and no good way to tell time. For Fii, it felt like forever since the slavers went back to their game, leaving him to hang with the dead.

Rat woke up with a moan somewhere between the first and tenth hour after they were captured. Fii was meditating his own failures, nails digging into his own thighs, growing angrier and angrier with every thought. He could pick the lock. He might even be able to escape. And then what? Leave Rat here, and pretend that he had saw nothing, heard nothing today? Where’s your recklessness now, Firelis Tyv’ern?

Shock had numbed him to action. He was distraught.

Fii looked up, and caught Rat’s slowly clearing eyes. Perhaps Fii should leave Rat here. It would greatly improve Fii’s own chances. Slavers. Ha. And they claimed his mother was one of them. The world seemed to have turned on its head today, and Fii wasn’t sure where that left him. As a slaver’s stock.

Hunger gnarled in Fii’s belly. It must have been a full day since he last ate, but even his own spit tasted bitter. Rat, now finally alert, was rattling on the cage bars, drawing the slavers’ attention with his blind panic. The slavers looked up. One of them smiled. The rest were laying down their cards. Something was about to happen.

The next hour was one of the longest in Fii’s short, seventeen years.

One by one, the children were all uncaged, and their wrists snapped into thick manacles with long, dragging chains. The youngest few were tied to the older ones’ backs. Fii and Rat went last, and they completed the lineup. The chained line were theren shown to a tunnel hidden behind the cages. They stumbled through it, and the slavers prodded them to hurry every other step. The other end of the tunnel led to a shack. The outside of the shack was an area with near the city walls that looked terribly familiar.

Night had fallen, covering the land under a canvas of black nothingness. Tonight was a moonless night, and even the stars seemed dim with an absence of light. Other than the chain-gang and the slavers, there was no sign of any living thing within the vicinity.

With the ease of those who had done this a thousand times before, the slavers directed the children to the city walls, to the tunnel that arched over a ditch. Two men stood guard, while the others led the chain of children through.

Ha, Fii thought. There was something sardonic about the situation. He was leaving the city how he entered. This time, however, he stepped right into the ditch of rotting foliage and fetid wastes, and felt the slime reach his knees. He should be disgusted, but disgust wasn’t coming. Disgust was as far away to him as this morning had been, and almost as far away as reality seemed right now.

[Vendredi]

Two additional men were waiting on the other side of the city walls. They were hooded and cloaked, and each carried a sword easily the size of Fii’s arm. The sight of them almost made Fii despair. Two more, on top of the original four. Perhaps he should have attempted running sooner, and left Rat to Y’edda and fate. Perhaps he should do it now. Run, and never look back.

The new men brought a horse-cart that had been boarded up completely with wood, and a few more horses to spare. The slavers were loading the children in now, with the two newcomers standing guard. at both sides of the wagon. In front, Rat looked to be shivering violently. Out of fear, mayhaps, or something else.

Suddenly, Fii was struck with the thought that this was a first time for Rat, too, and Rat was in this boat because of Fii. For a moment, Fii felt guilty for even thinking about leaving Rat here.

Today, he was learning that he had less honour than the little he thought he had, that he would abandon friend and innocents both to the guillotine if it meant his own life.

Today was a day for learning uncomfortable truths, and Fii did not like what he was learning.

Suddenly, Rat stilled and shuddered. Then, in an instant, Rat was free and had leapt away, leaving behind a pair of manacles that had snapped open, Without sparing Fii a single glance, Rat made for the rolling hills that span before before the city. Unfortunately, his dash for freedom did not go unnoticed.

“What are you--” one of the slavers began, but did not have the opportunity to finish.

“Go,” Fii screamed. With a surge of strength that he did not know he had, Fii swang the thick chain attached to his manacle. It struck the slaver who spoke on the back of the head. It must have struck hard, because the man wobbled and fell. That caught the attention of the rest of them, and they came running.

I’ll regret this. Fii already did. The sudden action had shaken off some part of the fog that had taken hold of his mind. He was half-rooted in the moment, though the rest of reality still felt distant.

When the first fist descended upon Fii, Fii gave as good as he’s got. He ducked, burrowed forward, and pushed with his entire core. That sent the man in front of him stumbling back, but there were two more behind him. The cloaked figures were also closing in. Fii grunted. He swung back, rising his manacles wrists and bringing the sharp metal down upon the stumbling man’s skull. That earned a cry, but it also earned him a jab to the thigh as one of the men behind him unsheathed a knife.

Involuntarily, Fii sunk to his knees. He clenched his teeth and steeled his back, and bit back a sudden scream as something thick and rough struck his neck. The man in front of him had managed to stand, looking mad with fury.

The hooded figures were upon them. Fii felt a shudder of fear, but adrenaline roared thickly in Fii’s veins.

He was no warrior. He was a thief. He held no illusions of grandeur, and some part of his mind knew this was a losing battle. Even so, when push came to shove, Fii wasn’t the giving up sort.

The next blow was a sock to the side of his head. It sent Fii sprawling into the ground. He could taste the tangy saltiness of blood in his mouth. HIs eyes stang. His ears rang. His mind threatened to go blank. Fii could hear the sound of swords being drawn at the back. They mean to see me dead. Despite that, Fii struggled to get to his feet.

The anticipated blow never came.

Behind his back came the sound came the strangled cry of the slavers. It took every ounce of strength left in his weary frame to bring himself to a stand and to turn. His body quivered. When he did, Fii was treated to the sight of a real battle. The hooded figures had turned on the slavers.

Two of the slavers were already down, with wounds that sunk deep into their torsos seeping blood. The other two were engaged in fierce battles, knife and staff locked tight with the hooded figures’ swords.

Confusion rained upon Fii’s every pore, seeping into his eyes and clogging his throat until he was drowning in it.

Then one of the men -- the slaver with the staff -- jerked back, untangling his staff from the hooded figure’s chokehold. Instead, the slaver surged towards Fii. The momentum of the movement threw back the stranger’s hood. A familiar face was now bare to the world.

Father, Fii mouthed in horror, before his own body dived down and forward, and a bout of dizzy vertigo overtook him, and there was nothing but darkness --

[Vendredi]

When Fii woke up, he was in his father’s arms, and how he got there was no mystery. The night had bled away into earning morn’, and they were no longer outside of the city walls. They were back at the farmhouse, in the same room he had slept the prior night. The large arms cradling him felt like safety and home and peace, but safety and home and peace did little to quiet the niggling worm in Fii’s mind.

“What happened?” Fii managed, when his tongue was finally in working order. His father pushed a skin of water to his lips. Fii drank. “How’d--how’d you find me?”

“You weren’t home by nightfall, boy.” His father’s voice was coarse and tired, and his eyes were bloodshot, as though the man hadn’t slept for a day and a night. The man probably hadn’t. “So we went looking. That information dealer you like so much told us where you went a-hunting for your mother’s trail. Introduced us to some people."

His father shifted. Fii sipped his water.

"Broke a few fingers. Made a couple o’ threats. Wasn’t too hard to get ourselves hired as their new bodyguards after. That group’s been doing it for a while, but won’t be slaving anymore, after last night. They’ve barely got a breath left between them.” The smile on his father’s face was far from reassuring. “Don’t do that again, boy.”

Sheepishness colored Fii’s ears red. “Sorry,” he mumbled, face down.

Then, “Did you know? That this is what mother does?”

“No.” Then father laughed, and it was a croaking, dry sound. “But we’re mercenaries. I’m not surprised. Your old woman’s always been a mysterious one.” Then, hesitation. “But she’s a good woman.”

Fii pushed himself to sit, and his father let him, large arms pulling away as Fii propelled himself to lean against his father’s side.

He could not reconcile it. The same woman who sang him lullabies to sleep was a woman who would… who would what? Slit the throats of children under the cloak of the night?

“Why didn’t you look for her?” Fii whispered, instead.

“Where would we start?” A sigh. An old, faraway look. “Never told you, but we always knew she’d be leaving. She came tellin’ us she’d be going someday. Your mother’s a special one. Some sort of destiny. Never knew if she was running to it, or running from it.”

Hesitation, again. “She left a locket. You should have it.”

A beat of silence. Then another.

“I have to know,” Fii whispered, fingers clenching the his father’s sleeves so tightly he must have left stains upon them. “I have to.”

He wasn’t sure what it was that he had to know. He wasn’t sure what he meant. There was a niggle in his mind that itched unbearably at the thought of not knowing, and there was a whisper in his soul that rankled with desperation at the thought of staying still. He liked himself much less today than he liked himself yesterday, and he needed to know who Fii was and if he would like Fii tomorrow. He liked his mother much less today than he liked her yesterday, and perhaps he had to reconcile the woman he thought he knew with the woman she was, and he did not know who she was.

Stop judging. Stop thinking.

The older man gazed down at Fii for a long time without speaking. Fii wondered when his father’s hair had turned grey. Was it recent? His father was a man nearing his fifth decade, and it had been years since Fii had looked at him carefully.

For a moment, Fii cursed that spoiled, selfish child he had been, that he might still be, demanding attention, demanding answers, demanding the world to fall to its knees in front of his foolish egotism.

Then, his father nodded. Once. Twice. “Yes, you do.”



“Goodbye, father,” Fii said, standing once again in front of the abandoned farmhouse. He was dressed and geared for a longer journey this time. There were coins in his pouch and clothes in his pack, knifes in his boots, and a locket that pulsed with heat against his chest, beneath his shirt. There was a touch more humility and less arrogance in his demeanor.

“Stay safe, son.” The man’s face was stern, and visibly tired.

There was a touch of awkwardness in the farewell. Awkwardness from both of them, for both of them. How long had it been since the pair of them spoke so genially? How long would it be before they spoke again, if ever?

“I’ll find my way back,” Fii promised, half to himself. “Once I have my answers.” He wasn’t sure what, or how, or when, or even what his questions were, but he believed it nonetheless.

A pause. “Yes.”


Complete.

[Sulla]

Seek and Ye Shall Find [Solo]
Writer(s): Vendredi

Plot (18 / 30)

Honestly, your biggest issue in this category was pacing. That’s not to say it was some egregious error on your part - I actually really enjoyed what I was reading. But when I find myself so engrossed in something, pacing can quickly turn sour the experience. In this case, the story felt as though it moved too quickly, too fluidly, and far too nearly. Up until Firelis and Rat snuck into the granary’s basement, there wasn’t a lot of time taken to build up tension. Firelis’ initial search for his mother seemed to leave him empty handed, in terms of narrative, but it only took another sentence of dialogue with Rat’s mother to secure some information from her, and then the contact he met was only mentioned in passing. This made the beginning almost a breeze to get through, but with such an ominous note in your opener, I was hoping for a bit more mystery throughout the thread. For the most part, it became travel from place to place, with Firelis unsure but the audience fully aware that his investigation was not fruitless. While you don’t need to describe every meeting and dead end, I think it would have be wise to invest some more time in trying to build these things up. You can tell the audience your character is sullen or frustrated with how things are proceeding, but you’ll get much more impact with the readers by allowing them to come to their own conclusion by empathizing with your protagonist’s struggle. Finding nothing inside the granary’s interior was a good hint at that, but if you stretched it out even a few more sentences, perhaps him hearing an unanswered echo from his footfalls (or whatever imagery you’d want to throw in), it allows the reader to really imagine being there, and the hopelessness of the situation.

I will say, however, that from the entrance into the basement until the final post, you found that happy medium in between slowburn and breakneck action. Well done on your part.

As far as the story goes, it was a fairly standard trope at the beginning that took on a more sinister turn as time went by. I enjoyed the reveal near the denouement, but felt it would have been more impactful with just a bit more time explaining Firelis’ relationship with his mother. You don’t need to get bogged down in flashbacks or anything, but perhaps a few more lines of dialogue between Rat and Firelis (which would have helped build some character between the two), with Firelis using the excuse to shift focus away from his companion’s constant chattering. Even something as meager as a familiar site where he’d seen his mother only a few days before could have added more potency or urgency to his cause. As it stands, I understand his actions, but find it slightly difficult to put myself in his place. Most people have mothers (parents, really), but knowing a little more about Firelis’ would make his single-minded foolishness easier to comprehend. His people are often away, hired as sellswords, muscle, and agents for others, how often did his mother leave? Was she gone for lengths at a time? Long-stretches? Leaving a vague note might be strange, but not if she had a particularly long job that she had to take right away. Knowing just a bit more about her habits allows the audience to better situate themselves with Firelis’ dilemma. As it stands, it would be easy to misinterpret Firelis’ single-minded foolishness for a bit of an overreaction.

That all said, I really enjoyed the bits of backstory you did treat us to. The matron, Rat, Firelis’ people, the slums - it all worked its way well into the setting.

Speaking of your setting, despite it seeming sparse at times, I thought you did a remarkably good job at keeping it light, but very descriptive. The sewer and where it lead, the streets itself, and that dark chamber beneath the granary felt fairly fleshed out, though I only wish your character had a bit more time to interact with it (he did in the sewer, and it was very gross, haha). The one scene I had trouble with was the passing mention of Rat and Firelis using rooftops as a means of travel. This wasn’t particularly bad, it’s just that I had only the description of the decrepit slum houses from earlier to go on, and while I know that the entire city is not made up of them, I had to fill in the gap in my mind with something that wouldn’t have given way to the weight of the two boys (I chose the red tile roofs from Assassin’s Creed 2).

Character (17 / 30)

There’s was a bit of an issue with you telling and not showing throughout the thread, nothing major, but was it distracting at times. Rat spoke a lot, that was evident. I knew fairly quickly that he was the type of person to fill a silence only he found awkward with meaningless chatter. But on more than one occasion you pointed out his habit of being a pest and rather talkative. Having that point hammered home so often is superfluous when you’ve already done a fairly impeccable job describing a character in only the dialogue his uses. Firelis, too, was a bit muddled in this. I could see his frustration and sulleness without having it spelled out for me, but this is really a minor issue. When it came to Firelis’ father, I thought you were much more successfully succinct. You managed to hint at a vulnerability behind his strength, and also stuff him full of personality with only his actions and words. Just try to keep in mind you clearly have the wonderful ability to flesh out a character without using too much of the narration on descriptors. It’s a remarkable knack you have, so play with it a bit more, and I’ve no doubt you could make the characters come alive.

There wasn’t too much dialogue given the length of the quest, but I greatly appreciate it when someone does an excellent job making their character’s sound distinct from one and other. The slavers, Firelis’, his father, and Rat were written differently enough that I could probably have guessed who was speaking without being told, simply by rhythm, word choice, or an inkling of dialect thrown in.

More of a complaint for me here was the slavers. I understand Firelis’ didn’t know too much about them, that third-person limited is (of course) limited, and that they weren’t going to expand on themselves with some sob stories of what drove them into a life of slaving, but they felt a bit strawmanish, or cartoonishly evil. This part relates a bit to story, but why exactly were they killing children who had gotten too old to be slaves? I have to imagine it’s a sex thing to particular clientele, but really, how many slaves would they need that they needed more than a handful of chattel. Certainly, adults function far more usefully for any type of manual labor and would probably fetch a better price when it came to most people looking for that type of work. It just seems like the slavers had found themselves in a niche market, and rather than expand their profits, they killed off stock. Which would be fine, if I knew who they were dealing to, and if I knew it was impossible to sneak slaves out to other buyers who would want older children, but I don’t. What I do know is they took some sick pleasure in killing “unsellable” goods, and that just seems unrealistic to me, especially when none of them took part in the actual act. Instead they played cards surrounded by hanging, freshly killed bodies (which would stink despite being recent, because of bile and refuse that would expel on death, mind you), which goes away from the idea of the banality of evil, and straight into some sort of Dreadfort situation. Even worse than this implied (and somewhat hackneyed) monstrosity they exhibit, was their sheer stupidity. There was no one guarding the entrance to the granary, no one guarding the entrance to the basement, they’d set up their table as far from the one entrance where intruders might arrive (with plenty of darkness and obscuring objects in the way, and they didn’t check on the hooded guards that met them at the entrance way (which makes me question why the guards are so strict at the gate, but fail at patrolling around the walls). When these kind of questions arise, I can’t even fathom how the managed to sneak off with their victims in the first place, unless it was bolting through the streets Three Stooges’ style.

You did a fairly good job with your protagonist and the friendly NPCs surrounding him, but you should work on your villains to the same degree. If they’re bad at what they do, make it more evident, but if they’re a real threat, try to treat the reader to more glimpses of that. Think about what you would do in their place, as you do for Firelis, and I guarantee you’ll have yourself a much more rounded story, and a much greater obstacle for your main character to overcome.

Prose (19 / 30)

Your mechanics were nearly tight, but I caught a few typos - though mostly in the end. This is understandable, as we all get a little sloppy when the finish line is in sight. You managed to weave in quite a bit of imagery despite the length of the story, though I do wish you did it a bit more. The granary, standing alone from the city and more massive than it had any right to be underground, and the sewer, visited twice and nearly knee deep - these were especially well done.

I won’t prod too much into this category, because I think you have a fairly firm grasp of both the basic and more advanced notions of writing. But I will make just a few suggestions.

When it came to the slaver ring at the end, I think you missed a real opportunity at foreshadowing what would occur. The Matron, who dealt in gossip, could have mentioned something, perhaps within earshot, of people going missing. If you didn’t want to be that opaque, then Firelis’ first entrance into the slums around the sewer could have had some more chattering amongst the locals. Perhaps a nearby mother slips her child behind her, or ushers her back into the hovel while giving one last suspicious look back to the protagonist. As it stood, I figured fairly quickly that the creatures inside the cages were people, because I’ve read it before. But if you lay some more foundation before that happens, that reveal moment packs quite a bit more power as it dawns on the reader. Just keep this in mind for the future.

At times, your writing had a bit of a lyrical quality to it, at least in terms of pacing, rests, and flow. It’s hard to really pinpoint, but if you read it aloud to yourself after writing it, it becomes a bit more apparent. I found these hints particularly pleasing, as it helps move the thread along while working within a certain aesthetic. All I can add to this is to try to play it up as a strength. The use of alliteration will certainly ease itself into the style very well, and playing with that would make things all the more successful.

Wildcard (10 / 10)

While there were certainly some flaws, I really enjoyed this story, especially the ending. I’m quite looking forward to reading your work in the future, especially if it continues the search for Firelis’ mother, and hints even more at the destiny that was mentioned for her.

Total Score: (64 / 100)
EXP: 1332 1,360 (Judge's Discretion)
GP: 175

Spoils Granted: “An ivory locket, circular, with some sort of an emblem engraved on top of it. The emblem showed a winged horse, and a banner with words of an unknown language. Nothing magical.”

[Logan]

EXP and GP Added!