Cursed Odyssey

The room lay silent.

Rayah couldn't move. Hammers struck her skull in steady rhythm, skin tingling beneath the thick blanket despite the fever burning through her. Her nose ran and clogged, forcing her to breathe through her mouth like those filthy mouth breathers the head maid always warned about.

Reddened eyes wandered the creaking ceiling—from crawling insects to water droplets falling from the storm outside. She had never felt so wretched.

Gray blur covered her vision. Warm water struck her face, the gray drawing closer before disappearing with gentle pressure against her forehead, warm as the Sanguine Desert.

A hot towel? She furrowed her brow, gritting her teeth.

Her mouth opened, trying to speak, but nothing came.

"Sorry... I'm just worried... I know you don't want me around, so... I'll go pick more medicine..."

Rayah couldn't see the woman's expression through her haze, but she could imagine it clearly. Those same eyes that always looked at her with that insufferable concern.

Footsteps faded. Rayah breathed easier.

Really? A hot towel? She scoffed, remembering proper treatments at home. What would this accomplish—

Mucus in her nose began loosening. The warmth worked through her sinuses, easing the pressure in her head just enough to breathe slightly better.

A massive sneeze erupted. Snot flew like cannon projectiles, striking one of two candles on the nearby table. It toppled and died.

Another sneeze followed with uncanny precision, extinguishing the second candle.

Should I consider this lucky? She mocked her pathetic situation.

Time blurred. The once-hot towel grew lukewarm against her forehead. Wind fluttered through the window, brightening the room slightly, then came the door's familiar creak.

Footsteps approached. The cold towel lifted, replaced by a much hotter one. When she expected the footsteps to retreat, pressure settled on her bed instead.

That woman—Anne—sat beside her.

"Let me tell you a story... stories always calm the mind... Once upon a time..."

Rayah's brows furrowed before she sighed, remembering Zephyr's words. Just bear it for now. She forced herself to calm down.

"There was a fair queen who ruled her own little kingdom. Not grand with high walls or banners, mind you, but small and warm, nestled somewhere only she and her family knew. Her husband, the king, was sturdy—a little rough around the edges, maybe—but no one loved his family more. Oh, he was strange. Tough and loud, but behind those shouts beat a heart that would wrestle the stars themselves to keep his family safe."

Anne chuckled.

"They had two children—their little prince and their beautiful, dearest princess."

"The majestic yet often goofy little prince was the youngest. From early age, he'd climb trees and play in mud, always smiling. Such an adventurous young man! But he had quite a mouth... He'd fight and cause trouble with the other kingdom children... Though I can see why..."

"'Listen, pal, I'm about to rearrange your face so hard, you'll need a map to find your ass—and I'll shove my fist up there just to make sure you don't forget.'"

Anne laughed, shaking her head. "You should have seen the queen's face when other parents repeated what her son said. She couldn't think how her little prince learned such words, before realizing it was most likely her husband. She planned a long, deep conversation with those two..."

"Oh! I should get going!" Anne hopped nervously from the bed, her footsteps fading behind the closing door.

Finally. Rayah exhaled deeply. What kind of sorry kingdom was that? She chuckled inwardly. Such a prince was completely unfit for nobility!

But time passed, the towel grew lukewarm, and on cue, Anne returned. She replaced the towel, rubbing it gently against Rayah's forehead before continuing without warning.

"Then there was the eldest child, the beautiful dearest princess. She loved all things nature—pink flowers especially! Without her, the little prince would have been buried alive by other children ages ago. Though only a few years older, she possessed abnormal strength. Those bullies targeting the little prince would run whenever she appeared, though the goofy prince often thought they feared his new training. The dearest princess knew the troubles were mostly her brother's fault, but she stuck by him regardless. She always told her mother she loved her brother almost as much as her, with father ranking slightly lower because he sometimes screamed at her clumsiness."

"So, are you enjoying these stories? Feeling better?" Anne probed with a nervous smile.

Rayah tried responding, but only air puffed from her aching lungs. Speaking wasn't worth the effort, so she managed her best disapproving frown.

"Don't speak if you don't have to! Please rest! I'll be back soon!" Anne smiled obliviously and left.

What is wrong with that woman? Rayah gritted her teeth. If I were paranoid, I'd think she's patronizing me!

Time passed like clockwork. Anne returned as the room's light turned yellow, bringing fresh towels and stories:

"The fair queen's husband was shrewd but the hardest-working man in the entire kingdom. Rarely home, always ensuring his family's well-being above his own health. Though it wasn't obvious, he was deeply caring, showing kindness in his own special ways. Those begrudging presents were things he'd planned long ago, and his odd screaming came not just from frustration—mostly—but because he actually cared."

Anne smiled faintly. "There was a time when a new king came, claiming he loved and admired the fair queen more, that he was worthier of her love. That didn't end well…'

"He was not a bad man, if anything he was more noble and wished to save her. Later he would become someone holy! Oh the queen had many admirers!"

"The true king took him out, and they fought in the kingdom's center..."

"'You think you're the king? I'm the king!'"

Anne chuckled, eyes distant. "Oh, the queen's husband was no weakling. She'd never fall for that sad excuse. Though unfitting for her, she found herself cheering for her winning husband rather than stopping the fight. Perhaps that's when the little prince grew his fondness for trouble, and the dearest princess grew her fondness for... anti-trouble?"

Anne sighed. "The queen always blamed herself for not shielding the children, but then she'd think about how it made them who they were, and nothing was wrong with that."

"I hope you're enjoying this!" Anne's tone carried more enthusiasm than before, but Rayah gave her the same disapproving look.

Once again, with oblivious abandon, Anne left with kind words of recovery.

A king fighting someone? Noble parents acting like this?  Rayah's thoughts darkened. These are bumpkin antics! Is she mocking me and my nobility? This fantasy grows too fantastical...

Unconsciously, she began reminiscing about home. About her elder sister and brothers, her parents, how they treated her...

She grimaced.

Yes... a fantasy.

---

The doors of Adrian's house shut behind Joseph. He walked into sunlight, the same guard trailing him like a shadow.

The sun hung high—afternoon, perhaps slightly after.

"He's been released! So the verdict is innocent! He's set free?"

Looking down from the steps, Joseph saw a large crowd gathered below.

"I have no comment. Lord Adrian will address everything soon. All you need to know is that my partner and I were judged suitable to live among you for now..."

"PREPOSTEROUS! LIVING WITH AN OUTSIDER!" A Zott lashed out.

"For once I agree with Hilg—oh ancestors, what has the world come to!" a human cried.

"I'd kill him myself!" someone roared.

"WHO'S GONNA KILL WHO? I'D LIKE TO SEE THEM TRY! THIS BOY IS UNDER MY PROTECTION!"

The guard stepped forward, voice booming.

"If you have objections, let me know now if you dare!"

Silence fell—not even murmurs.

Joseph wondered what kind of man could suppress such a mob with words alone.

Slowly, the crowds dispersed under the guard's command, and Joseph could move freely through the village again.

Eyes followed him everywhere. Audio levels dropped to whispers and open mocking wherever he passed. Though some defended him, cheered him on, or remained indifferent, enjoying the spectacle.

Now that this was over, Joseph had much on his mind, but he couldn't help smiling. He could return home, wait it out with Rayah and explain everything—but he had other plans.

"Excuse me, sir!" Joseph stopped abruptly, approaching a middle-aged man with sweat drenching his forehead, veins pulsating from his receding hairline.

"Huh?"

Joseph studied the man—clearly agitated, face flushed with frustration. The worn apron streaked with ash and soot marked him as a craftsman.

The man turned with an exasperated sigh, wiping his brow. "Who is—... Oh... The fucking outsider... Piss off... I've got enough troubles."

Joseph glanced at the nearby waterwheel, its paddles worn and straight, struggling to turn in the current. His eyes traced the setup quickly. The river flow seemed steady, but the wheel wasn't optimized for the current's energy.

"Looks like you've put a lot of effort into the waterwheel."

The man mixed curiosity with skepticism. "What do you know about it, outsider? This wheel's been in my family for generations. Works well enough for our needs."

Joseph nodded calmly. "I'm sure it does, but..." He moved closer, gesturing to the flat paddles. "I think there's a way to make it work even better."

The man scoffed, crossing his arms. "Better, you say? It's always been like this, and it gets the job done."

Joseph scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Your wheel paddles aren't the problem—it's their shape. See how they're flat?" He pointed at the straight paddles. "They're not catching enough of the water's force. Curve the paddles, and they'll catch more water. The wheel will turn faster and generate more power."

The waterwheel reminded him of the Industrial Revolution—Victor Poncelet, who revolutionized waterwheels with curved paddles, increasing efficiency significantly. Such a simple change, such dramatic results. Science in action.

The craftsman's face twisted with irritation. "Curved paddles? Stop making up nonsense to seem smart. You think you know better than me and my forefathers?"

Joseph remained steady, voice calm and confident. "Yes, I do. Though the mechanics are complex to explain, curved paddles capture more water energy, increasing efficiency. Modify the paddles, and you'll see the difference."

The man looked skeptical. "And how do you suggest I do that? I don't have time for a child's outsider theories."

Joseph smiled slightly. "I was awarded 100 Lia pieces by Lord Adrian. If my solution doesn't work, they're all yours." He pulled out a large sack, and the craftsman's eyes bulged.

The craftsman paused, eyes narrowing. "100 Lia, huh? Fine." He couldn't hide his eagerness. After hearing the number and seeing the boy's enthusiasm, curiosity peaked. "But if you waste my time, I'll take that money—and maybe more."

Joseph ignored the threat, picking up wood to sketch the new paddle shape. "Cut the paddles curved, like this. It'll take effort, but it'll make a huge difference. Curved paddles catch more water, pushing the wheel with greater force and keeping it turning steadily."

He worked quickly, the craftsman reluctantly helping. They reshaped the paddles, creating the curve Joseph described. It took time, but eventually they finished attaching the new design.

The sun had nearly set. Though Joseph's arms remained bound and his stomach empty, he did his best. Eventually, a large crowd gathered. As rumors spread, people eagerly awaited the results of this outsider knowledge.

"Here it goes..."

Finally, wiping sweat from his face, Joseph tested the wheel by allowing water to flow over it again. Immediately, it spun more smoothly and with greater speed, the curved paddles catching the current far more effectively.

"Now see the difference." Joseph smiled, stepping back.

"Hmmm?" The craftsman grumbled, still skeptical, but as he watched the wheel turn faster and more consistently, his eyes widened. The increased power generation was obvious even to him.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, looking at Joseph with something approaching respect. "I didn't think it'd work..."

The crowd reacted similarly.

Joseph smiled. "It was nothing! With the right tools, you'll be running the best mill in the village in no time."

The craftsman wiped his brow again, shaking his head. "You're not just some clueless outsider, are you? You've earned those Lia pieces, boy. I appreciate your work... Consider them yours. But don't go thinking you can solve everything around here."

Joseph grinned. "I can't take these from you, sir!"

"TAKE 'EM!" The man shoved a pouch into Joseph's chest. "What kind of man do you think I am, that I wouldn't compensate a child!"

"Plus I can't look bad in front of so many people..." He leaned in to whisper, glancing at the crowd.

Joseph smiled and whispered back, "I also never had 100 Lia—those are just rocks..."

As Joseph turned to leave, he felt the weight of the man's gaze—unlike before, it was kindly, almost musing.

Moving on, the crowds pounced, all human.

As man always would, they threw away pride and prejudice for reward.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Are you a magician!?"

But most importantly, they pleaded, hoping whatever he might be could help with their personal problems.

Joseph, overwhelmed, glanced at his supervising guard as though pleading for help, but received only a simple smile saying You're on your own, kid.

Eventually, knowing most were farmers, he spoke.

"To those who farm! Follow me and I'll teach you crop rotation and irrigation!"

The villagers had no idea what those meant, but they sounded almost magical, making them eager to learn.