Somewhere Someplace

“Come on, big guy! You. are. a. horse! Eat the grass!” Novea implored away at the wagon horse…for the nth time.

The horse, more akin to a mule in stubbornness, neighed in reply, to which Novea interpreted as a blunt fuck-off.

“No, you…fuck away, stupid horse… Fine! Starve yourself, then! Pfft…” she replied, pretending as though she was not worrying for this animal.

Standing off to the side in her usual manner was Antica, her cyanic eyes exposed. Now that it was just the two of them, she could get away with such open eyes…especially during the day when their ignited state was not as apparent.

Indeed, she could now see and observe the greater continent around—that thing which she had been…so…oddly curious about beforehand. However, by now such curiosity had been vanquished...now that she could see. Nothing special, nothing interesting, nothing out-of-ordinary even if…peculiar; the scenery was rather repetitive, in fact.

Odd, that she could even think such a thing…when such sights and sensations were always such rarities in her long-long life and memories. She ought to feel…something about this natural world around, and maybe she did; she just did not know nor comprehend.

Regardless, now that they were approaching the ‘central lands’, there was an ever-apparent shift in…climate—still temperate, but a…different ‘flavor’ of temperate, so to speak. The grass was noticeably darker in its green, and trees and forests were seemingly becoming more…apparent and pronounced. It seemed to be becoming a bit wetter too; it was hard to know if such was due to the shift in regions or due to shifting seasons.

It has been two days since they had split from their…now former…Company escort; four-and-a-half days in total since their journey began. Novea estimated another three or so days until they would finally reach that ‘Huckleberry Dutchy’.

Delays. Indeed, delays…

That…encounter with that so-called ‘bronze golem lord’ had resulted in them…panickily fleeing in a random direction…which happened to be not the way they were supposed to go, requiring a course correction after they had split.

Yet such was met by another delay…due to the presence of a river.

That specific river, according to Novea, apparently defined the borders between two petty realms which constantly feuded with one another and had a habit of destroying the bridges which allowed crossing, requiring the other to rebuild said bridges, only for the bridges to be destroyed again later on. That specific river also happened to be an important…transitionary boundary between the ‘central northern realms’ and the ‘north central realms’—there was a difference.

Suffice it to say, it had taken well over half of the whole day prior to even find a suitable crossing that still existed—a process which also took them off path, requiring yet another correction.

However, conveniently, Novea was not only…capable of handling the wagon and the horse driving it, but she also knew her way around this whole continent seemingly. She relied not just on the road signs and other indicators, but also on the details in the environment to infer where she could be, as well as using the sun’s position to deduce directions. Thus, although she had no map—hardly any did—, she was nonetheless able to quickly return on track.

Antica was…perhaps slightly impressed…even if for the standards of these denizens such were rather…typical skills.

At any event, such happenings were not the only reasons for why this journey was taking longer than…necessary—from Antica’s perspective.

Indeed, Antica this moment was standing there as opposed to sitting in that wagon…which itself was stationary as opposed to moving…all due to another one of these ‘breaks’.

Already, travel only occurred while the sun was up and paused a little over after the sun was gone; thus, they only traveled for, at most, ~13.5 standard hours out of the full day…due to the need to sleep. And although Novea could eat her foodstuffs and drink water while on the road, there were still at least three, sometimes four, 30 standard minute breaks so that she could attend to…specific needs, refill her waterskin, and, more especially, address that horse’s own…equine needs.

Certainly, that equine—being a living creature—needed to rest, to sleep, to drink, and to eat, otherwise its movement efficiency would diminish greatly. However, despite all these breaks afforded, that equine was not and had not been eating, which was making it slower anyway from the mounting lack of energy.

“No wonder those Company boys mentioned lacking the horse feed… I mean, I was confused hearing that…horses are horses: they can eat grass, rightly? But I guess not these ones!” Novea blurtfully remarked aloud before staring right into the horse, “Or maybe…this Far Western horse just refuses to eat this ‘uncivilized’ ‘native’ grass…pfft—sure, our grass can sometimes have… odd properties, but that isn’t this grass! It is normal!”

“Maybe it is noticing what you cannot” Antica finally spoke, having been simply watching this entire time. Deep down within… this show was perhaps…interesting, in such a strange way.

Novea’s head snapped to her; “Listen, our horses and beasts eat this sort of grass finely! This one is just stubborn and Far Western…”—she glared back to the horse—“Faster and stronger than ours, but…not when you are so hungry…”

“Let us just keep moving, then… This is a waste of our time.” Antica bluntly suggested.

“…yea-no, we need to stop for a town… I was trying to avoid doing that since we are…you know…openly birdy, but someone refuses to eat grass like a normal horse, so we have to buy feed or he will starve” Novea frankly stated, perhaps slightly annoyed.

“Then, let us do that” Antica replied.

Novea sighed…before relooking at Antica; “Uhm… Well, I am ready to go, but… what about you?” she…inquired.

Antica slightly tilted her head; “Clearly, I am also ready? I would not be simply standing here, otherwise” she replied.

Novea nodded lightly; “Yeah…I mean, you’re always standing… To put another way, I have seen you refill your water…things, drink from them, but…that is it… I haven’t seen you… you know…” she…tried to clarify, voice becoming more…awkward.

Yet Antica’s tilt persisted; “…seen me…what? Eat? It should already be clear to you that I do not need to eat often, spy” she stated.

Novea…only became more…nervous in posture; “…yeah, I mean no—I mean yes, I do kind of know that you not eating is a…you-thing, but—ahem—not… not what I was…” she attempted to reply, flustering somewhat; “…you really are going to…make me ask…directly, aren’t you?”

“If you have something to ask, then simply ask.” Antica bluntly stated.

“Oh, so says you, Miss ‘Don’t Ask Stupidly’…” Novea muttered aloud before…taking a moment’s pause, sighing; “I haven’t seen you use any of our stops to…visit the girly bush…” she finally…more directly…stated what she was trying to…inquire at.

“Heh?” Antica’s tilted head only tilted ever-more. That…did not clarify anything at all, besides that there appeared to be great…squeamish discomfort impeding direct communication.

“…Raven Mother” Novea exhaled, averting away…her hand stroking her corvid masked forehead. Taking a deep inhale, she relooked; “Antica, I haven’t seen you wander off to piss or shit once this entire time” thus she finally said it, overcoming the great discomfort and hesitancy.

« … » Antica stared blankly, her mind processing. “Oh…” she blurted out, her ignited eyes averting off to the side, her posturing stiffening somewhat.

“Maybe I have…but you simply did not see, for you were not always around” she finally replied.

“Sure, I could believe that if we were still with the Company, but since then it’s been you and me, I haven’t seen you even mention needing to…do any of that…in the past two days—I am kind of worried… that is not normal, and I know that is…weird of me to say to you” Novea stated, now far more direct in voice.

« … » Antica remained silent, still staring off to the side.

…out all of the things about her that…deviated quite so, this happened to be a line that finally entered the realm of total abnormality? Novea could accept her infrequent need to drink water and eat but not…

Right…ultimately, she still did need to…do those things, whereas with…

But even so, in Coastfield not once had she ever visited a…latrine or other such relevant facilities; surely, this stalker of a spy would have…noticed that pattern or…

Right…Novea had not always been stalking at all hours… Indeed, Antica was still a living being, and thus the most logical base assumption would be that…

Truly, it had never truly occurred to her just how…abnormal her lack of waste expunging needs would be in the eyes of the denizens, even the ones who…knew more about her than she preferred.

How should…she even reply? What should she…even do? Usually, she had some way to weasel her way out of these sorts of direct accusatory moments, but…this one felt…as if she had been backed into an edge.

Novea sighed; “Wow, I know I’m squeamish, but…I think you might actually be worse…” Novea bluntly blurted, noticing how…long it was taking Antica to reply; “Listen, I know you’re a hidden and secretive gal, but…if you need do…something, then go off and do it… You, being you, don’t need a back-watcher” she added.

“…you are…right… I admit” Antica finally began to speak, “I am squeamish…and do not like to be seen…or have the…possibility of being seen… But I will…now…address that…since it has been too long…”

Antica…promptly walked off and away, distancing herself until she found a discreet spot—unseeable in absolute. She then proceeded to…hunch down and simply wait—pretending, she was pretending.

Novea sighed, her posture relaxing. Yet… “Hm…” She felt rather…unconvinced on the inside.

It was two days since they started traveling together…alone; she knew what it looked like when someone had been holding it in for…far too long and Antica seemed very unbothered. By now, she ought not to be surprised by anything regarding Antica, yet… There was a boundary between being…rather alien and being…rather inhuman… to not be burdened by the struggles that defined living things.

Obviously, she was not at all going to even dare to make any attempt to confirm… For now, she simply opted to…assume at face-value and…leave it at that—she did not want to linger on this subject anymore, in fact… So uncomfortable, indeed, especially for a lady.

-||-

The air was neither warm nor cold, rather in-between; it was silent, too… besides the sounds of the galloping horse and turning wheels, in addition to Novea’s own…gentle quiet humming. Indeed, such was something she tended do when situated upon that ‘driver’ spot.

Antica herself was situated in the…back of this open wagon, staring off into the abyss of repetitive environmental scenery and occasional agricultural production localities.

Sometimes she would check on her terminal device. Although she initially intended to not do such a thing within Novea’s presence, since she already had done so…there was no longer any point in not doing so despite there not really being a point in doing so.

Although there remained much she still needed to…do with it, for now, she merely snooped…to see if Bee has transmitted anything new—or really, she was simply just…that bored deep down within…since if Bee had transmitted anything, she would have been buzzed.

Regardless, Bee has yet to detect any new…problematic highlights since then, nor those prior brown highlights and that grey-blue highlight who so apparently ‘controlled’ them. Despite those events happening two days prior, her mind still seemed to linger on it…in a strange way. Her actions…her inactions…all such things.

Novea had witnessed much of her things that night… her Remnant modular small-arm, her terminal device’s screen, and even heard her whispering to…Bee. Though, Novea has not brought such up since…that night, even though it must obviously be lingering in her mind.

In a way, this was preferable. But in another way, this silence was…not alarming as much as…something to be guarded by, considering what Novea truly was…by the end of it all. Indeed, Antica still did not trust her; however, truth be told, she did not truly trust anything, besides the Remnant.

Antica sighed lightly… She had initially thought that traveling in this open and exposed wagon would allow for…less of this…boredom or whatever, yet she was still quite so. Truly such an incomprehensibly…strange and unpleasant feeling…this ‘boredom’ was, she had hardly felt such a way before—in recent memory, at least.

Remnant troopers were proficient in the art of completely and utterly zoning-out while remaining attentive, allowing for time’s swiftest passage. Yet…such was hard for her to do as of late, even though it used to be such an easy and simple endeavor.

The only happenings of vague interest were whenever another denizen wagon or carriage or other form of transport would…pass them by, primarily because this sometimes exposed her to…different sorts of domesticated species and…chimeras.

There was also the…occasional strange behaviors by some of the denizens. Ravens and their peculiar reputation, indeed, sometimes other passing wagons would stare at the Raven on wagon…before galloping off as if death-marked by her responding stare. Of course, Antica could only hear such during those moments.

They were not stumbling into those…pesky ‘clearance checks’ as often, either. And those they did stop at, the guards did not display significant protest, even in cases where Novea’s special clearance pass should…not permit entry. Passage was becoming a swift affair, indeed, just as Novea had said would happen once past Tinfield.

Regardless, as bored as Antica might be, at least her back was not…as annoyed anymore from this prolonged sitting. Indeed, her stare shifted down…gazing at her backpack which was now off her back and leaning against the wagon’s benching alongside Novea’s own carry bag…and that revolving-rifle. Novea was the one who had suggested that she take her backpack off…after finally bringing up that she did not need to be wearing it always.

The fact that Antica had be told…such an obviousness…perhaps made her feel…stupider, deep down within.

Albeit there was a certain psychological discomfort with not having it on her…at all times—she preferred having immediate access to her…stuff. Likewise, she only took off her primitive backpack, not her portable Remnant storage unit for…obvious reasons… Though, maybe she ought to since…there was no point in hiding it; that thing was likely the largest contributor for her uncomfortable sitting. Though, maybe she ought to continue enduring…since it was becoming easier to tune out.

“Alrightly!” Novea abruptly announced aloud, “Smell that smell? Yep! Chickens, wheat… and…”—she began to sniff in detail, playfully—“…the lack of sewage—a town! Ten minutes and we will be there… Sporkwheat… So, the Barony of…also…Sporkwheat”.

“I read the sign.” Antica so flatly replied, despite having not read the sign.

Novea immediately lowered her…playful energy; “…oh… ahem” she mumbled, slightly embarrassed. She quickly ahemed again, “Anyway, the name says it all: sporks and wheat—most of the tied villages are strictly grain producers, so should be cheap… hopefully”

“…the ‘sporks’ and wheat, you say? What is this ‘spork’?” Antica inquired, curious.

Novea…slowly glanced back, head tilting, again having been ambushed with…such a question. She lightly nodded her head, having to remind herself yet again…right: Antica. “So… it is a spoon and—”

“What is a ‘spoon’?” Antica swiftly intercepted… Maybe she was being serious, maybe she was not… not even she herself could truly tell, but…such was perhaps…interesting to continue doing, nevertheless.

Novea went mute, simply…staring, at a total loss for words.

She exhaled; “…alrightly then, young lady, let us begin with the very beginning—ahem: Once upon a time long-long ago, well before the Child who wore the Crown of Smiles arose and named all the thousand realms, there was a simple monkey of man…wandering a day before he found a pointy stick, and thought, ‘Hey…this might be useful to poke food with’, and so…” she began to simply narrate…and by no means seriously.

-|-

The small yet sizable town was surrounded completely by a wooden wall, one occupied with ever-watchful towers and spotting eyes. Ever-protective of their traditional spork-manufacturing craftsmanship, the denizens of Sporkwheat must be… or perhaps the area was…simply not the safest or most peaceful.

The wagon was stationary, paused before the closed wooden gate. Antica’s eyes were closed—pretending to be asleep, she was in fact. Novea was silent in kind, staring down from her driver-spot…at a town guard staring in kind. Lightly armored and not as well equipt compared to the guards of greater realms and fiefs, but they performed sufficient enough.

“Saye your business. What bith an Raven and thine other doende here and in the open?” thus interrogated the guard; “Knowe that ourn realm ‘nd toundom of Sporkwheat beth an part of the Lesser Dutchie of Absent Froun, the liege of whilk doth not recognizen your guild; suchly, ye moten haven proper clearende” he added.

“…” Novea stared blankly, her Raven mask hiding her bewildered expression; “Mother of accents…” she mumbled in blurt. She had forgotten that…many areas leading to Huckleberry spoke…rather…conservatively.

She ahemed; “We are…passing through?”

“…Ye beth passende thruch? Bith that what thou tryende to sayen?” the guard repeated, seeking clarification, seemingly.

“Uhm… yeah” Novea…replied, “Feed…for our horse, Far Western horse and he does not eat any of the grass… and hasn’t eaten in…a couple of days”

“Fed for your horsee bith what ye wollen? Bith that what thou sayende? Or meantest thou to sayen that ye wollen to feden your horse?” the guard replied, inquiring, though with a certain faintly hidden…snicker in voice.

Novea stared, catching on; “…alrightly, seriously, traders pass through all the time, I know you can speak in proper tongue” she stated, unamused.

The guard burst out laughing, having been certainly enjoying this…moment. “Yes, I understand finely” he said, switching accents though…he certainly retained a distinct regional flavor to his speech.

Novea sighed in relief; “Thank you Mother Raven…” she so quietly murmured, before returning focus to the guard.

“Thou’ve got a stubborn horse, aye? Not grazind the grass? Well, we’ve got the fed, but I can’t let you in… Thou and thy friend have got no valid clearances” the guard stated.

“…well, we made it this far, so clearly we must… And besides, clearances are just a coin-scheme anyway; holdings and towns don’t normally ask for them” Novea replied.

The guard chuckled; “Thou be a Raven, of course thou made it far with thy Guild clearance even when thou shouldn’t, but I’m sayind this by cause you stick out”—his eyes looked at both Novea and the pretending-to-be-sleeping Antica—“it would be obvious by one glance that you shouldn’t be allowed here” he explained.

“…I guess that may be true” Novea…acknowledged.

“Six silvers for each sack of fed, give me the coin…and some extra, and I will fetch for thee” the guard abruptly proposed.

“Six silvers?” Novea repeated.

“Yah, six silvers” the guard restated.

Novea nodded away ever-faintly. That was awfully…pricy for grain feed. Though, they were…approaching down central, and there was a…difference in silver’s value compared to the top north despite being poorer overall. She was in no position to haggle, either… Despite the apparent bribe being asked, this was still…a courtesy on the guard’s part.

She sighed and detached her thick coin pouch; thankfully, she had been provided well beyond sufficient funds for such expenses. She took out…twenty silvers, twelve for two sacks of feed and eight for the guard. She handed the coins to him, which he promptly accepted.

“Two sacks. And do not try to cut my back.” Novea requested and sternly warned.

The guard, sorting the silvers in hand, nodded; “I’m not stupid to back-cut behind a Raven” he replied, before opening the wooden gate; “Be returnind”.

“Did we get…‘robbed’?” Antica, ignited eyes opening, inquired.

Novea sighed; “No… but there could certainly be a murder if an attempt is made” she simply replied. Abruptly, she grasped her abdomen; “Tch…” she muttered, discomforted.

“Are you fine?” Antica inquired, noticing.

“Ye-yeah, it’s nothing… Has to be nothing, too early…” Novea replied.

Time passed them by until finally…that same wooden gate sprung open from the other side, Antica swiftly closing her eyes and returning as was.

That same guard returned with rather the…sizeable sack of grain… Novea immediately realized why it was six silvers… for that was quite larger than she had expected. The guard held firm, however, and tossed the large sack onto the wagon’s back, avoiding crushing the other…stuff on it.

“Now the next one” the guard said before retrieving the next sack from behind the gate, repeating the process as he hurled the second sack of feed onto the wagon’s back.

The guard panted somewhat. “There thou are, now thy friend has the pillow to lay on, ha!” he said with a single laugh.

“…yeah… that should…definitely last this big guy the remaining three… four days…” Novea remarked, staring behind at the two quite-larger-than-expected sacks. She turned her mask-obscured eyes back to the guard, “Thanks… That was courteous of you”.

“Not worth mentionind. I should be thankind thou for the extra meal to-night!” the guard replied, “now, I am evictind you from these premises… Be on your way”.

Novea acknowledged, before, with a gentle tug, the horse began to move, the wagon turning as the horse made way…down the opposite direction. There was a road that branched and wrapped around this town.

“I take it, then, that now we should be moving finely?” Antica…more seriously…asked, eyes opening, staring…at the two large sacks that were now occupying her spatial environment.

“Unless this horse gluttons all of the feed, then yep: three more days and we will be in Huckleberry, maybe even two…” Novea replied.

“Hmm… your voice, you seem…worried?” Antica observed.

Novea gently grasped her abdomen again, slightly discomforted in breaths. “Not worried…” she began to reply, “Forgetting that bronze golem, since then, our travel hasn’t been…eventful; no bandits, no brigands, no goblins, none of those, and monsters have stayed clear of us… I just know that…Lady Fortune”

“ ‘Fortune is not without her debts’ ” Antica completed.

“Yep. Fortune is…what normal ladies would call…a bitch; all of Fortune’s luck loaned is to be inevitably taken back…with interest…” Novea remarked.

“…‘interest’, what do you mean by that? What is…interesting?” Antica asked, perhaps more genuinely…since, indeed, she had not the faintest idea as to what ‘interest’ was supposed to mean in this context.

“…Oh, great Mother Raven” Novea’s breaths blurted out…before, with a sigh, she began to explain more…denizen abstractions beyond Antica’s comprehension.

Well, this is progressing

Perhaps now would be a good time

For a tiny…momentary change in perspective

After all, soon is to be rather the important day

For that other principal piece of this plot

My attention appears to be bouncing all over, certainly indeed