Cursed Odyssey

Joseph's Village Guard

The knocking started soft. Polite, even.

*Thud. Thud. Thud.*

By the fourth knock, my eye was already twitching. I'd spent the entire night hunched over that damned letter to Lord Adrian, checking every word twice, making sure my report was pristine. The messenger had better not wake the entire house with his—

*THUD. THUD. THUD.*

Idiot.

I shot up from my chair, legs protesting after hours of sitting. Three strides to the door, yank it open, shove the letter into the messenger's startled face, and slam it shut, quietly, before he could utter a word.

Perfect. Quick. Silent.

Why must everyone be so incompetent…

"Is everyone around you so incompetent?"

My blood turned to ice.

Crimson eyes stared straight at me, glinting with amusement in the pre-dawn darkness. Joseph sat on the edge of his mattress, fully dressed, looking like he'd been awake for hours.

Since when did he wake up?

This was the first time—the very first time—I'd let him out of my sight for more than a few minutes. And somehow this boy had not only woken without me noticing, but he'd also...

"He could have woken the entire house." Joseph's voice carried that same warm chuckle. "Well, I do hope you put in a good word for me to the leaders."

I ran a quick inventory. Sword—check. Coin purse—check. Nothing missing. But that wasn't what made my stomach clench.

What did he just say?

"You..." The word hung in the air like smoke.

Joseph's smile widened. "You wrote a letter tonight. Sorry, I didn't get much sleep either." He stretched, joints popping softly. "It was either to your secret lover... or to update your leaders on my actions. So... how was it?"

How does he—

Another sigh escaped me. Longer this time. "I spoke honestly. Whatever your actions were, I objectively made my words known. That is all."

"I... I see."

For the first time since I'd met him, those crimson eyes dropped. The confident smile faltered. Something vulnerable flickered across his face before he looked back up, and I caught a glimpse of something new burning in his gaze.

"Well, let's get on our way then, shall we? Or are you too tired?"

My fists clenched without permission. Then relaxed. Why did I do that?

"I'm fine. Let us leave."

---

The village slept around us as we walked, caught between night and dawn. A lukewarm light stretched across half-dark streets, painting everything in shades of gray. Our footsteps echoed in the unnerving quiet.

He speaks so honestly. Can't he keep a secret... secret? We're not friends.

I watched him from the corner of my eye. Joseph walked with purpose, but there was something different about him this morning. He hadn't said goodbye to Lady Anne. Hadn't checked on that girl he'd arrived with.

Does he not care about her as much as I thought?

The thought bothered me more than it should have. I shoved it aside. Not important for the mission.

"What is your name?"

That question again. I kept walking, pretending I hadn't heard.

Joseph didn't push. He never did. Just filed away my silence like everything else he observed about this place.

---

The library looked dead. As always.

We pushed through the creaking door to find the front desk empty. I shook my head, already knowing what was coming.

"RISE AND SHINE, LIBRARY LADY!"

Even I jumped. My hand was halfway to Joseph's mouth when rustling erupted from the dark spaces behind the counter.

A figure emerged from the shadows like a grumpy ghost.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM! Oh—it's you!" The Zott librarian's voice pitched between fury and exhaustion. "I barely slept last night because of how late you stayed!"

Joseph's lips pursed, then curved upward. Something shifted in his expression—sadness mixed with mischief.

"I don't have long, so I'm making the most of what I have left." His beam could have powered the entire village.

Even the librarian's weathered face softened. "I get you, I think. You're hungry for knowledge, boy? In all my time here, I've never seen someone like you. They're all more enthralled with the sword than the mind."

She's taken a liking to him. It made sense. Most villagers couldn't read. Those who could were too busy surviving to waste time in dusty corners with old books. Only children had free time, and none of them wanted to be labeled nerds.

Even I was the same as a child.

"But for being a little gremlin and waking me, I'll have to double the entrance fee to 20 Lia!" She puffed out her chest like an indignant bird.

"No problem." Joseph pulled out a coin purse and set it on the counter with a soft clink. He bowed—actually bowed—before walking toward the shelves.

"Wait!" The librarian's shriek could have shattered glass. "This is way too much! I only asked for 20!" She gasped. "50 Lia? Are you crazy?"

Joseph turned back with that dangerous smirk. "Keep it as a tip, or use it for my next visits. Whatever suits your heart, miss."

The librarian stood frozen as we walked away. Eventually, I heard her mutter: "Are all outsiders so crazy?"

A dying man's tip.

Joseph had earned 200 Lia helping villagers over the past few days. Never asked for payment—people forced it on him out of guilt or gratitude. Fifty Lia was no small sum.

Especially for someone who'll never see next month.

---

This time, Joseph didn't head for the history section. Instead, he made a beeline for the maps.

Maps? My stomach tightened. It was forbidden for villagers to venture too far from home, but that didn't stop the curious ones. Some had visited neighboring villages, even cities. Most never returned. The few who did were executed on sight.

But their maps were archived. Knowledge was knowledge, after all.

Why maps? Looking for an escape route?

As if reading my mind again, Joseph spoke without looking up. "I wanted to see the world. Isn't it magnificent?"

Melancholy colored his voice as he traced coastlines with his finger. Mountains. Rivers. Places with names I couldn't pronounce.

Blasphemous. Those words should have earned him a beating. But the way he said them—like a prayer rather than rebellion—made them almost believable.

"Can you help me read this?"

I almost said I was illiterate. Almost. But he'd seen me writing that letter this morning. The lie would be obvious.

I stayed silent.

Joseph kept talking about exploration, about the unknown world beyond our trees. He even joked that maybe his spirit would roam free after death, seeing places his body never could.

I should mock him. Crush those naive fantasies.

But I couldn't make myself do it. Maybe because I knew they were just jokes. Maybe because it wasn't part of my job.

Or maybe something else.

---

The sun blazed overhead when we finally left the library. The Zott librarian had already retreated to her back room, probably knowing we'd be her only visitors all day.

"You were pretty shocked when I screamed for the librarian, huh?" Joseph grinned. "Pretty obvious the library was also her home."

He never stops talking. Sometimes I grunted responses. Sometimes I gave simple answers. Mostly I stayed silent.

And there's always that one question he keeps repeating.

"What's your name?"

---

The diner buzzed with morning energy. Workers grabbing quick meals before heading to the fields. Families sharing breakfast. Normal people living normal lives.

All of that stopped when we walked in.

Every eye turned toward us. I catalogued the usual hatred and disgust aimed at Joseph. But today something was different. Mixed in with the malice was curiosity. Even... respect?

From the humans, at least.

Joseph chose a table right in the middle of the crowd. Bold. Stupid. No one could openly challenge him with me standing guard, but some customers moved away. Others left entirely, muttering about dining with someone "unclean."

The owner looked ready to cry at the lost business. I'm sure he was walking over right now to kick us out.

But that was when Joseph pulled out another coin purse—the rest of his 150 Lia—and set it on the table. "I want to buy drinks for everyone here! As for me, a small sandwich will suffice. And for my friend..."

Friend? Those crimson eyes locked onto mine.

"I can pay for my own meal."

The reaction was immediate. Whispers rippled through the room like wildfire. More Zotts stood to leave, shaking their heads in disgust. Some humans followed. Others stayed, torn between free drinks and social pressure.

The owner pocketed the coins with weary acceptance, like he was taking both a blessing and a curse.

"Sit, won't you?" Joseph gestured to the chair across from him.

"No."

"You know, for someone who guards me so closely, you sure act like I'm contagious." He chuckled, completely unfazed by my rejection.

I crossed my arms. He kept talking—about my comfort, about how standing must be exhausting. I ignored it all.

Then someone sat down across from Joseph.

My hand moved to my sword hilt automatically. Assassins were always a possibility. But the man settling into the chair wasn't a killer.

Soot-streaked skin. Calloused hands. A blacksmith.

"Joseph, right? Remember me?" Enthusiasm practically radiated from him.

Joseph nodded. "Of course I do."

"I had to thank you again. Those suggestions you gave me yesterday?" The blacksmith clasped his hands together. "They worked better than I ever imagined. You've saved me days of work."

"I'm glad to hear that. It was really nothing."

The diner had gone unnaturally quiet. Everyone was listening, pretending not to. The blacksmith noticed but didn't care. Why would he? Money trumped reputation every time.

The onlookers aren't stupid either. I could see the calculations in their eyes. The envy. The temptation to abandon their pride for profit. They all thought the same thing, yet barely any had the courage to act.

"How about some extra... exclusive advice? I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Silence stretched like a held breath.

"I am here to help everyone," Joseph finally responded. "I want to leave a mark on this village before I'm gone. That is truly my final wish."

"If you help me more, I'll give you 100 Lia! No, 200! I promise!"

Joseph smiled, shaking his head. "I appreciate it, truly. But I don't need the money."

Bewilderment. That's what crossed the blacksmith's face. What crossed everyone's faces.

To them, money is everything.

But I understood perfectly.

What use is money to a forsaken soul?

---

The fields stretched endlessly under the afternoon sun. Joseph picked up a plank of wood and a sharp rock, crouching to scratch letters into the surface.

When he finished, he held up his makeshift sign: "Farming" alongside an open hand symbol.

"I saw the word often enough to recognize it," he said, catching my questioning look.

Did I really give away that much? Am I so easy to read?

Joseph held the sign high. Word spread fast in a small village. Farmers began approaching, tools in hand. The same ones he'd helped yesterday led the way, hope flickering in their eyes.

A crowd formed. Zotts and humans alike, many openly mocking. But slowly—so slowly—some of those same mockers began to drift closer.

If there's even the slimmest possibility this outsider speaks truth...

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. A childish dream made real. Too tempting to resist.

Joseph spoke with the passion of a preacher, painting visions of better harvests and brighter tomorrows. For a man with no future, he sure knew how to sell hope.

What irony.

Hard to believe someone so eloquent couldn't read or write our script. But the world was vast. Our little village was just a speck in an ocean of possibilities.

What lies beyond these woods? The thought slipped in before I could stop it. I spat on the ground, disgusted with myself.

All the listeners were human. Expected. Race bred familiarity, and familiarity bred trust. The Zotts felt no such kinship.

"He's gonna get sacrificed anyway," someone muttered.

Since when did that information leak? Probably inevitable. Maybe even good—let the public know the leaders weren't accepting outsiders with open arms.

---

Orange painted the sky as Joseph made his rounds. Blacksmiths, tailors, cooks, craftsmen. He was a walking encyclopedia, and sometimes I wondered if he knew everything.

The outside world must share information freely. Innovations spreading from city to city. Discoveries building on discoveries.

My mind wandered again before I shook my head violently and spat.

Blasphemous we have it best here…

Then I noticed our destination.

No. He couldn't be going there.

But our path was unmistakable. Northeast. Toward the Rert area.

The Zott quarter.

Even humans avoided that section unless absolutely necessary. And here was Joseph—cursed outsider that he was—walking straight into the heart of it.

It's my job to protect him. To tell him to turn around.

Did he think it unfair that only humans received his help? Did he want to reach the Zotts too?

Despite all the scrutiny. Despite the curses. He's still going.

He knew the Zotts were harshest to him. He wasn't naive—I'd seen his perceptiveness. Was it because I was there to protect him? Was his desire to help truly this strong?

I should tell him to go elsewhere...

But then I stopped.

How dare I think such ill thoughts of my Zott brothers and sisters? As if they were violent beasts who couldn't control themselves. If Joseph wanted to go, I had no right to deny him.

And if something happened, I was there to stop it. Not because of Zott nature, but because of the simple hatred both races harboured for outsiders.

Natural hatred for us all.

The crimson sunset stretched across the sky as we walked deeper into Zott territory. Joseph's footsteps never faltered. Never hesitated.

Whatever waited for us in the shadows ahead, this condemned man would face it with the same smile he'd worn all day.

What kind of person walks willingly into the den of those who despise him most?

The answer walked beside me, humming softly as darkness fell around us.