Somewhere Someplace

Since time immemorial, the Great Huckleberry Dutchy was that realm of so many-many berries all wrapped around that sprawling Great Forest of shadowy superstitions and prescribed darkness. Since time immemorial, it stood amongst the oldest and largest of sovereignties; surpassed only by the largest of kingdoms in size, yet surpassing them all in the continuity of sovereign blood.

For millennia after millennia since the dark ages that followed the collapse of that Legendary Age of Smiles, only a man of the reclusive and purist dynasty Alweny ruled atop the throne of Grandberry.

So strong and obvious was dynasty Alweny’s hold over that sovereign title, their name needed not to be ever uttered, for it had become synonymous with the Duke in Grandberry itself; unquestioned to the point that even Alweny bastards nevertheless had strong and uncontested claims.

Whereas most other elder sovereignties of these lands, from Rainbow to Sunflower, had experienced some periods of succession wars, title usurpations, or even outright annexation by another then-rising realm, Huckleberry had remained stable and continuous, its title uncontested.

However, it had perhaps helped dynasty Alweny’s hold over their precious title that the Duke in Grandberry had far more symbolic power than actual; no thanks to all those ancient customs, unspoken agreements, and expansions in feudal privileges and rights over the course of these millennia.

Indeed, a realm of realms of bickering realms, from the traditional counties who swore direct fealty to the Duke in Grandberry, to their vice counties who swore featly to them, to the special-status sub vice counties, to the baronies and their vice baronies, and so on and so vice forth… The Huckleberry Dutchy stood as the embodiment of all those feudal traditions, customs, and values that had defined the Central Continent, now considered increasingly ‘archaic’.

And for millennia after millennia, the great dutchy had remained as thus. Static and unchanging, eternal; much like all that which the Central Continent had once been. Despite the changes in sovereign realms and fluctuating dominions, despite the drifts in tongue and wear, despite the cyclic lock of Demonic invasions and Heroic salvations foretold… Never truly changing. And it was only rational to presume that nothing would change now as nothing had all those millennia ever before.

But the omens were clear and had been clear; signs heralded by blackened smoke visible to all eyes in the horizon across the ocean blue, to which only those blinded by willful denialism could not see. And even though Future was becoming relentless in her blowing of the winds of change, Huckleberry, as with most traditional realms further from sea, stood its ground and held firm; convinced, they were, that they could handle a mere breeze.

Yet when Lady Future decided to finally arrive, her winds were hardly a breeze as much a storm, a cyclone, unleashed upon all the thousand realms, the Empire of Pegasus arising to accept her mandate and carry forth her ushering winds by sword and fire.

Although Huckleberry had been spared from the horrors of that terrible war fifteen years prior, that conflict had nevertheless left quite the impression on the Duke in Grandberry, the utter inefficiencies of the ancient feudal order having been exposed for all to see; that what had initially been a minor power in the southeastern realms could become a monstrosity held back only by the combined might of all other sovereignties.

In the years following that so-called ‘Imperial War’, the Alweny Duke in Grandberry began to exercise greater sovereign will and authority over his…decentralized realm. Slowly yet escalatingly, the duke’s demands for taxes, men, and other obligations increased, as did his own interferences within the affairs of his vassals; reformation after revocation, Grandberry eroded the ancient concordances and once-firmly strict feudal privileges and rights, as positions within the duke’s sovereign court once reserved for his vassals and the feudality found themselves usurped by titleless aristocrats and petty bureaucrats.

Grievances and discontent arose almost immediately between the Duke in Grandberry and his many sworn vassals. However, open opposition to Grandberry only saw punitive repercussions in the form of even greater demanded obligations and eroded privileges, burying would-be protests into silent shadows. Such punitive measures, however, only served to create a dynamic of overtly unequal treatment and show who were Grandberry’s favorites—conveniently none of such being in the dutchy’s south, the historic heartland of the Old Huckleberry Dutchy.

What had initially been grievances and discontent became suppressed animosity, strife brewing and brewing as Grandberry’s ambitions and control grew and grew, up until one single event…brought everything to a sudden flare.

Some years prior, the beleaguered towndom and barony of Tinkleberry—a vassal of the Vice County of Dinkleberry of the County of Winkleberry—had found itself in a dispute with the so-locally-called ‘Rejinards’ over the theft of an ultra-rare unicorn; a conspiracy fueled by desperation plotted with incompetence. From their many old yet still active citadels and fortresses scattered across the southwestern coast, the Rejinards launched a punitive expedition in retaliation, spearheading their way through these lands uncontested and straight into Huckleberry’s south.

Tinkleberry along with its liege, Dinkleberry and thus Winkleberry, in addition to other subject realms of the dutchy’s south mustered what they could as fast as they could. In the end, however, the Rejinards reached the town, and the subsequent sacking was as grotesque as it was cruel; Tinkleberry ceased to exist in all but title. The Rejinards left with a trail of innocent blood and wagons stuffed full of slaves, all the while the Duke in Grandberry merely waved his finger without even reaching for his sword.

Even though the duke had perhaps prioritized the entire realm collectively over one single town out of fears of greater reprisals, in the eyes of his vassals, he had merely prioritized himself and his favorites; it showed that, in spite of the demands for power and authority, the duke was nevertheless powerless.

The Rejinard’s incursion and Grandberry’s inexcusable response—or lack thereof—shattered any remaining trust between vassal and liege, the duke having demonstrated an incapability—or unwillingness—to uphold the most basic obligation of the feudal contract: to defend the titles, lands, and privileges of those who swore fealty from outside aggression. The entire point of their feudal bondage had been rendered redundant.

In the aftermath of Tinkleberry’s annihilation, the vassals of the dutchy’s south became utterly, unequivocally, disillusioned. Silence and faux acceptance obscured the seeds being planted by schemes and covert agreements, before the tree being grown abruptly sprung out from the ground during that night when the stars and earth had their fiery spat, when the ancient and prestigious County of Elderberry in the southwest emerged at the head of an open rebellion, having taken the mantle as the arbiter of those ancient concordances and traditional feudal privileges.

And now, for more than a year-and-half, the Great Huckleberry Dutchy has been a realm shattered between Elderberry’s Alliance concentrated in the south and southwest, and Grandberry and its loyalists concentrated in the east and northeast, everything intermediate having been left a contested mess of fluctuating allegiances, scattered exclaves, would-be separatists, and self-declared neutrals.

The civil war in Huckleberry was a conflict over its fate, its future. No matter who would emerge victorious, the victor would no doubt be alien to what they had once been. A reflection… An omen, indeed… to the entire Central Continent, for a realm as old as these lands themselves to be…on the brink of fragmentating collapse; the desperate gasps of a withering era.

Yet…such also brought with it…lucrative opportunities to those who looked up ever-higher. For it was from the ashes of fallen orders and dead empires that new things could emerge… or old things, resurrected. And there were many interested in claiming the rubble. For in this world ever-growing, ever-changing, no longer were events detached from the greater game being played…

A greater game we are so very eager…

To join…

And upset

Though, for now, we must let game play itself

Let their wheels turn and turn…

Until we are ready to spring out

And smash the wheel apart ourselves

Villains and antagonists, this continent is familiar with such…

Yet forever contrived, fates predetermined…

And I prefer stories with unpredictability

A wild card emerging, all so suddenly…

…

Though, that persona really needs to be finished already…

We are supposed to be the antagonists, after all, yet all we have been doing is

Warning: Desynchronization

May this dance continue

May the pieces continue to fall

Sol to Whispering Oceans…

No, no… I am not going to bemoan again…

I am aware your other has been hard-focused on this task

Take all the time that is needed to ensure that the persona is perfect

This is a slow ball, after all; one delicate and elaborate

And your other’s persona is to be our accepting hand…

The leading villain against whom the hero will stand…

And what is a villain without minions and toys to play with

Yes, organizing and formalizing my little cult is going to be a…process…

Which only brings me, thus, to that…newfound collection of would-be antagonists…

Yes, I saw you were already ahead of me regarding that…

Applying things recently tested

Subtle, indeed, yet perhaps too direct…

We must exercise caution and move slowly…

Lest we awaken too early that which sleeps within our own graves

…yes, and I perhaps simply want to utilize our…premade instruments already…

No need to wait for the persona, even if they will be granted the conducting stick

Indeed, soon begins phase two…

And soon enough, the spotlight will be to you

Anyway, thanks for playing along…

Repetitive communication of matters already mutually known aside,

Tell your other that I said hi

Now then… How to…

Hmm…

There remains much left over from the previous session, just unorganized

My attention had hopped around, quite…

And the presentation order…

Chronologically out of synch…

Yes… That could perhaps work

Or at least…be interesting…

Gradually bring the two to synchrony or…

Maybe abruptly and confusingly apply a skip in the middle…

Or perhaps…

Siģilù de Magno Spectatore

Siģilù de Éllad Calamitate

Siģilù de Ead Eod-que

Siģilù de Sôle

“Bith that all understanded?!” so interrogated quite the rattled man, voice assertive and loud; threatening…

“No offense, but… was it really necessary to explain all of that?” Red remarked with calm yet…tense in breaths.

“Thou asked us why we beth so antsy, and I wanted to be sure in absolute that thou understanded exactly for what!” the rattled man so specified. “So, I shall demand once more: What are you doin’ with that thing which so be the purpose of our whole realm’s misery?!” The pointed aim of this man only became sharper, eyes glaring to that which was behind Red; “Whence did you get that?! By what means?! For what reason?!”

Red…sighed with a groaning ugh…

Indeed, there he stood along with the rest upon the road, the wagon stationary behind, his hands raised up…

Red was calm and attentive, suppressing his nervous tension and fear within, keeping his cool. Novea, face obscured by her corvid mask, was silent as she stood similarly with her hands raised. Antica was silent in kind, unreadable and enigmatic utterly. Blue…quiet, yet her raised arms were slightly shaky, her breaths audibly…scared and slightly panicked.

They were completely surrounded. Not professionals, minded, rather by what was clearly an improvised and hastily readied militia. Some were armored rustically, though the majority were indistinguishable from peasants; although some were armed with spears, the majority were armed with firearms—varied types all muzzle-loaded and outdated, though all primed and pointed.

Paranoid, overworked, and seemingly sleep-deprived, these men were twitchy and anxious.

How Red and the rest ended up in the situation was irrelevant to the simple reality that they were in this situation, and that the source of this…tense moment was standing behind, so indifferent and unphased as if all of this was utterly beneath it.

“Answer! Gods’ forsaken! Answer! Beth you tryin’ to bring the befallin’ of Tinkleberry to us?!” the rattled militiaman so demanded, impatient of Red’s seconds-long silence.

“Listen, as I already said…” Red attempted to say, trying to keep his voice…respectful; yet, in so gently motioning his hands and figure…

“THOU STAY BACK AND WHERE THOU BE!” the rattled man only became more rattled; “Thou shall not move! Thou shall not move! Thou shall not FUCKIN’ move or let a hole be given to thy skull!”

Blue only became more…visibly anxious, jaws slightly trembling… Novea remained silent, as did Antica… The former was likely biding time and planning, while the latter was most certainly simply…waiting this out, to see if this local situation could resolve itself.

Red, complying, immediately relaxed and…stepped back a little… “Alright… Alright, just settle down, now, just settle the fuck down…” he tried to make his voice…reassuring.

“Just answer the demandant; for what are you doin’ with a unicorn? I cannot see of by what someone such as thou can be with one!” the militiaman so remarked, shouting; “Incomprehensible! Theft, it was clear mindly theft! By no other ways! Theft! No way thou beth with the coin to suchly afford! For what else would thou be usin’ an unicorn as a fuckin’ haulin’ horse?! Inconceivable!”

“Again, calm now… As I was going to say and as I already said: it is a long story… I didn’t steal it… I…stumbled…into it, and it just started following me; it wouldn’t stop… So, I just decided to make use of it” Red explained, trying to keep himself calm and…the opposite of antagonistic…

Normally, he would be far more…combative… However, despite everything he was—an adventurer once renowned for slaying dragons, having had attained the rank of Diamond—, he was ultimately outclassed by peasants armed with lead-hurling boom-sticks. One shot was all it would take, and it was not only he himself whose life was…threatened… Arguably, someone far more important too…

“We’re just passing through…” he tried to reassure…

The rattled militiaman nodded faintly, his breaths still infested with such paranoid tension… “Passin’ throuch? You passin’ throuch… By what may we know that you bethn’t bein’ chased? Ourn town abandoned of Simpleberry has survived for this year-and-half, and we shan’t allow this…this wicked omen to bring destruction!”

“Look, trust me… There ain’t an army of Rejinards or other angry aliens chasing us… You aren’t gonna get sacked or razed or any of that… Again, we are just passing through… We don’t plan on staying; we don’t plan on lingering… We’ll be out of this little realm far sooner than a half-hour…” Red…once again…tried to reassure; “So, just let us go…”

The militiaman, tense and sweating, looked away somewhat… “No… No…” he began to speak; “We shall be bringin’ you for holdin’… We shall see in the few days that follow…whether thou beth sayin’ the truth… For when those who beth lookin’ come, to whom we shall hand ye if so; if not, then you shall be made free…”

“…” Red stared… “Wait, so… You’re all terrified of that unicorn behind us, but you want to…bring it into your town? I’m sorry, I don’t think I get it… Wouldn’t harboring the unicorn just make those imaginary unicorn-chasers…raze-sack your Gods’ abandoned town?”

“Not if we tell them that we have captured the thieves, and return to them the unicorn without resistance… But if we permit ye to pass throuch, they shall come with answers’ demandants and many shall be tortured, ourn town bein’ given the torch…” the militiaman stated… Truly, no matter what reasons or rationalities were to be given, his mind would simply warp and twist to conform with his paranoid fears. “You shall come with us, and surrender your arms… Should none arrive with demandants, you shall keep your heads and be allowed to leave…”

“Great…” Novea muttered quietly…

…they were supposed to have arrived days ago… Yet Red seemed to always find some way to delay and delay and delay… Indeed, that man had forewarned that a sea of bullshit was ahead, yet she truly had not conceived that Fortune so enjoyed taunting him.

“Listen,” thus Novea began to finally speak, “you know what I am, rightly?”

The militiaman turned his eyes, glaring… “Thou bein’ a Raven shall do nothing for thee… We caren’t for thy Guild’s doin’s… And, by Gods’ wisdoms, if thou beth involved, then that gives only more trouble to the meanin’!”

“Well, you may at least trust my words when I say that I vouch for him, and that what he is saying is true… This unicorn will bring you no problems…” Novea spoke, attempting to mediate; she had…no actual idea if Red had spoken the truth or not, but her voice spoke with confidence that he had.

“And for what would we be believin’ the serpentine tongue of thee who follows birdly demifolk beasts?” the militiaman simply rebutted.

Novea sighed… Oh, goodness… Would that simply bribing these sorts would satisfy, yet they were obviously engulfed in a lust for survival, not coin… Or, wait… Actually…

“Listen… When was the last time you even slept?” Novea suddenly inquired…

This question caught the interrogating militiaman by some surprise; his eyes withdrew down, as if he himself was…slowly realizing its answer… “Two days… And nothing swell of rest in between…” his breath’s leaked out.

Hearing this…the other men too…began to realize just how…exhausted they all were. How their eyes burned and their minds yearned…

“Constant patrol… The town needs we… We’ve been keepin’ the bandits out and the roads cleansed…” another spoke.

“We noticed… The roads feel safer here…” Novea remarked, her reassuring voice calm…and more empathic—far more so than Red’s; “But, you need help… Mercenaries or adventurers; if you let us leave, I can put my word in as I go, that Simpleberry needs help…”

The militiaman growled a little, however; “Heh! Thou think if we had any the coin we would have done suchly already! But we are without any the coin!” he so hurled.

Novea began to lower her hand; “May I?” she gently requested. The men doing nothing, she proceeded to carefully detach her…quite noticeably emptier…pouch of allocated coin, opening it. “Here”—she flicked a shiny potent coin followed by another—“Congrats, these are my last…”

The militiaman was unable to catch the two successive coins; they hit the ground, though he quickly picked them up … staring at them… “Platinums?” He was too tired to be stunned or shocked, despite his audible surprise.

“Yeah… Platinum may not be much for entire towns, but…with that, you should be able to afford better protection for the remainder of the year” Novea remarked. “You are all just a bunch of…random boys and men—Simpleberry’s economy must be suffering, rightly? None of you want to be here, truly…”

The militiaman stared at the coins; his breaths were cramping as if he were staring at hardly a coin as much as a…token of liberation. Quite frankly, he was on the verge of tears; were he not a leading man in the presence of other men, he would be weeping. “Half ourn men were off-levied to Grandberry… Ourn fathers and sons… The other half off-levied to the count, vice count, ‘nd the whole way down… We beth who remains, and we be defendin’ a town of daughters and wives who be toilin’ in ourn stead…” he remarked, voice so…beleaguered.

“Yeah. So, you need a break, and you need more men. I can put in a word for adventurers, whom you can use that coin as a reward for; although, mercenaries will be faster… There are plenty of groups around that aren’t just…bandits for hire, some being former-adventurers” Novea stated.

“We shan’t be bribed…” yet the militiaman’s breaths uttered, though seemed…conflicted, in need of…justification.

“Not a bribe. I just…felt bad… Hard not to… You are free to detain us if you wish, the coin is yours either way; I have no regrets…” Novea said, her voice stern yet softly empathetic. Indeed, this…totally-not-a-bribe aside, she did…genuinely feel bad for them. Although two platinums were nothing with respect to whole domains and realms, for these folks of such a town even one could make all the difference.

The militiaman was significantly calmer, as were all the rest. “Uhuh… Not a bribery, but a charity act… Charity, I see…” he mumbled, convincing himself… “And thou can give to us assurances that…thy vouch bith true; that this unicorn of ye bithn’t a heralder of destruction to us?” he asked…

Novea took a moment… “Yes.” she answered; “That unicorn is not a threat, nor is it being chased after, nor was it thieved. We have traveled from Sparklewater to Outerberry, and thence to hence, without any problems besides the problems of this realm.”

The militiaman nodded his head; “Thy words shall be kept to heart…” He waved, gesturing to the others who lowered their weapons; “Come, let us show to the council this…gracious charity” words spoken, he began to walk off with all the rest.

Novea sighed once again… “Oh, Raven Mother, how things surely love to repeat…” she so muttered… Indeed, she was now rather low on her…allocated funds for easing travel…due such repeated scenes.

Blue’s arms flopped down as she exhaled such relief; “Thanks… Thanks… I thank you, we thank you, that was…”—she exhaled again—“I thought they were going to shoot us…”

“Yeah, thanks again…” Red thanked; “God of Commerce, aren’t you stacked with coins though…”

“Do not count on it again; I am now dry.” Novea’s mask-obscured eyes lanced attention to him; “Just… Please, no more distractions, no more delays… Just…get us there already.” she so spoke, her voice quite impatient and…fatigued.

“Hm.” Antica so mumbled, her voice ever silent… Two days without sleep was all it took to compromise those men’s cognitive faculties. Denizens… Such was the only word to enter mind… Denizens. She herself had not slept once since…their arrival to Huckleberry. Yet, nevertheless, her attention remained sharp and vigilant, even more so than before. Though, she was becoming rather…tired of this repetitive travelling; she just wanted to get on with their given mission already…

Though, be careful not to let your present distractions

Make you forget of that which ever persists…

Within the back of your mind’s own shadow

A presence

Always felt

Always lingering

Always watching

A clock you know is ticking ever onwards…

Ever-so slowly