❝ Hai hai hai Siwmae! ❞

Patience is a virtue, yet one Elly did not have. Already feeling the onset of agitation creeping up her neck, she stifled it with a forced smile as a greeting to the lone stranger who wandered into the quaint apothecary she knew both as work and home, known as the Spragyrian Almanac, or Spragyrian’s Almanac; she didn’t really know nor care which it was. Not that it mattered; there wasn’t even a sign out front to indicate it was anything other than a rundown shack fit for a hermit or village witch.

Though what lay within was anything but, swathed in all kinds of curios and colours that were made evermore vivid from the morning sun. Various shades of orange and yellow painted streams across the skies with watercolour sepia as the waning sun set and the chasing sickled Day Moon; The Son “Bena,” made its presence known with its three kin in tow; all in various stages of their cycles, seated in their own section of the firmament.

Far off the beaten path it may be, the countryside of Llul had a certain charm that she fell in love with; it bordered the territory of both the Cad Goddeu of Wyddel as well as the outskirts of Luria. So, they were never left wanting clients whilst also being remote enough to be out of the way of any stray marauder or plunderer. But not far enough, she lamented, for the all too familiar interruptions that came with the spring thaw.

Seldom do customers visit, so she spent time wiling away the hours intensively restocking and rearranging the shelves of elixirs, philtres, tinctures, and potions. She couldn’t do much else as most of the raw materials needed for the backlog of orders had been prepared earlier, and until Veld returned, she was left to do as she pleased.

This morning, however, was busy; between the odd customer picking up orders and late deliveries, Elly was already feeling fatigued, but one particular customer had been perusing every corner of the shop, and she hadn’t much time to notice or deal with them until the shop was now empty save for them. In fact, she may have overlooked them entirely if it wasn’t for them quietly humming a tune, one she found familiar.

❝ Good mornin’! ❞ Her so-called best customer-service voice was saturated with an almost sarcastic tone; her strong brogue and slightly pitched stutter hid well. It worked on most people, but her terrible poker face often gave away the poorly hidden contempt, and her blunt attitude compensated for her size.

The young girl watched the stranger intently, gingerly standing near the counter within the archway that led deeper inside the cottage. The clutter of glass shifted as she let down the crate of empty bottles she planned to take back until her morning was ruined. And to add insult to injury, they seemed to wholly ignore her forced, yet overly cheerful greeting.

❛ Hurry up an’ piss off, ya’ haliwyr. ❜ Elly bit her tongue, almost letting that slip until she reminded herself she had to be nice to people, an absurd obligation she found herself struggling to maintain the more she had to deal with them.

She hates dealing with customers or people in general; finding the idea of talking to them a chore, and one she holds in great disdain. Alas, the old geezer was out galivanting God knows where and, to her chagrin, put her in charge of running things. Her role was usually tending to the gardens or brewing in the still room, at least preparing them, since the remnants of her last attempts left a fine dusting of soot that still resists any attempts to clean it off the walls.

Truthfully, Elly preferred being tasked with delivery as it gave her an excuse to get away from the often-suffocating doting of her father. Well, Veld wasn’t her real father, but he had taken her into his care, and it was far better than living on the streets of Lucidor.

Elly groaned, brushing unkept locks of dirty pink over her shoulder and fastened the spruce flat-cap she wore. Glancing down, she shrugged and patted the likewise apron she lazily thrown on earlier whilst tending to the garden; evident by rolled sleeves and dirt staining the once-white tunic. If one were to ignore the smears of dirt on her face, the stifling mix of scents permeating from her would have masked the fact that she hadn’t bathed in a while.

❝ Um – Hello? ❞ She approached the customer and reached over, shifting one of the vials he had looked over a moment prior to where it belonged. Making sure they noticed her this time, with a sharper tone, as her guest was clearly ignoring her whilst they perused the medicines. ❛ Hello? All quiet on the frontal looobe. ❜

❝ Can I – Can I help ya’ with anythin’? ❞ 

❝ Hm?! ❞ The stranger turned to face her, surprised at the girl who greeted him. His eyes caught her off guard, like hers; they had the same jaded haze of one who had come from a hard life, but they were filled with a melancholy she could barely pinpoint beneath the cataracts, making them an odd shade of grey.

He stunk of chemicals and an odd mix of blood and herbs, perhaps a surgeon of sorts? But his outfit reminded her of a priest, wearing the typical clergyman’s attire of a simple russet cassock and biretta over a head of mildly long, greying black hair; a dark chestnut, careworn face bordered by neatly groomed mutton chops. In one hand, he held a cane, though it didn’t appear to be anything more than a set piece, much like the glasses tucked in his collar.

❝ My apologies, child. I did not sense you behind me. ❞

❛ An’ ya couldn’t hear me either? ❜ Elly thought to herself, she was about to speak but the words caught in her throat. 

She blanched visibly as she felt the hairs on her neck stand on end, instinctively taking a step back. It was brief, but she saw something inexplicable that filled her with a bone-deep fear. She shut her eyes and breathed sharply, tensing herself in an attempt to stop the trembling. ❛ It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real. ❜ It wasn’t – she knew it wasn’t, but nevertheless, it still terrified her.

❝ Is something the matter? ❞ He raised a brow with both curiosity and concern as he observed the colour drain from her face. ❝ Have you taken ill, girl? ❞

❝ Nah. ❞ Elly shook her head; she knew it was her mind playing tricks on her again. ❝ Jus’ – Tired. ❞

Once she was calm, she opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, but dared not meet his gaze. It was hard to tell his age; she knows how stress can affect one’s appearance, and for the most part, his face was unreadable, so telling what he was thinking wasn’t something Elly could parse out.

❝ I see. Well, I did not mean to scare you. ❞ His formal tone and honest chuckle eased her. His accent was strange, a foreigner, and certainly one she hadn’t heard before.

Taking off his hat, he bowed politely with a kind smile. He visibly squinted as though he struggled with seeing her, though he appeared to be moving around just fine. ❝ I am the Father of the Monastery in Cadwaladr, Welt Theodor Achaius. ❞

 If she remembered correctly, the local Monastery was run by a smaller, more local denomination that took reverence for the Prophetess Amberlynn rather than the idolatry of the central church of Luria. Far from local; in fact, it was in an entirely different region, at least a good three-day trip. Moreover, the ongoing civil war in Wyddel would make such a trip highly dangerous, if not outright suicidal, if one were careless.

❝ And you are? ❞

Achaius held out his gloved hand but retracted once he noticed the dark sunken rings around the girl’s eyes. The gaunt telltale of well-hidden dotted scars on her right arm and, oddly, her left shoulder. He did not speak on it; even if the look on his face was enough for her to tell what he was thinking anyway. He did, however, notice her prosthetic left arm, which she tried to hide behind her; it was an uncommon sight, especially in a place such as this and on a girl such as her.

❝ Hm – Are your parents around by any chance? ❞

Elly’s face soured, already familiar with the sort of judgmental looks. It didn’t bother her as much as it used to, but she wouldn’t hesitate to lash out at others for it. She had a strong disdain for the religious types, but he didn’t appear to be among the more fanatical themata of his ilk; he did, however, share the same look of disgust as they did.

❝ Jus’ me – Jus’ me. ❞ Elly replied and quickly repeated herself, clearly uncomfortable with social interactions. Her cadence was peculiar, disjointed, trailing off, and it was evident she rarely spoke in full sentences.

Returning the bow, she did not meet his gaze, nor wore the forced smile she had a moment prior. Her eyes seemed to dart around furtively. This time she spoke slowly, albeit with visible strain. ❝ Veld’s out. Runnin’ errands. ❞

❝ Do you know when he will be back? ❞ He added with a raised brow in curiosity. Turning his gaze that now scanned the room as his hands leisurely held his cane out before him. ❝ I have an urgent matter I must discuss with him. ❞

❝ He’s – out right now. ❞ She shrugged; even if she knew, she wouldn’t tell him. But truth be told, she really had no idea; Veld wasn’t the sort of person to plan things and sometimes disappeared for days or weeks. ❝ Fuck knows where. ❞

❝ That is no language for a young lady. ❞ A brief flash of anger passes through him, yet he discards it. ❝ And you should speak properly. It is impolite to speak so casually to your elders. ❞

❝ Nah. ❞ Elly stared at him blankly. Not that she could, nor wanted to. Her focus shifted once more to the wall of product he had been eyeing a moment prior. As she reached over to fix one of the vials, she froze the moment he spoke once more.

❝ I take it you must be Elly, ❞ Achaius stifled a chuckle, ❝ Or would you prefer I call you Little Wren? ❞

Her expression changed again to mild unease when he spoke her name; once more to one of recognition from when he mentioned Cadwaladr. Still unsure as to how he would have known her since they never met, at least as far as she knew. She briefly lived at the Monastery, but it had been years ago, and she would have remembered meeting such a striking person as he. Whether from the faint paranoia a moment prior, or something else entirely, put her on edge.

❝ Maybe. ❞ Elly replied curtly and wearily, as she often did around strangers. ❝ Howd’ya know? ❞

❝ You needn’t be so mistrustful, ❞ Achaius added, noticing how she raised her guard immediately, ❝ I am not one of them. ❞

Little Wren was the nickname the sisters of the Monastery gave her when she first met them; and one that had stuck with her ever since. She didn’t really know what caused them to think of such a name, most likely due to the birthmark beneath her left armpit, though she didn’t see the resemblance. It wasn’t the worst thing she has been called; so, she doesn’t mind it so much, but it feels odd to be called that by a stranger, and no less such a disquieting one at that.

❝ Right. ❞ Elly replied curtly and wearily, as she often did around strangers. Once more turning to face Achaius, but she kept her distance from him as he was beginning to make her feel deftly uncomfortable. ❛ I wouldn’t trust ya’ to fog a fuckin’ mirror. ❜

❝ Excuse me? ❞ Achaius raised a brow; she had spoken that thought aloud.

❝ Yer’ excused. ❞ Elly quipped with an almost mocking half-smile. Unease or not, she couldn’t stay her tongue for the life of her. It got her in trouble on more than one occasion, though Veld didn’t usually pay mind to it.

❝ A sharp tongue. ❞ His face hardened, clearly showing he was unimpressed. ❝ I should scrub it with soap. ❞

❝ Do it then. ❞ Now she was clearly trying to push his buttons, and by his expressions, it was working effectively.

❝ I see you are still an ill-mannered brat. ❞ Achaius spoke through gritted teeth, tapping his cane as he was considering such a thing. By his body language, she could tell he was considering reprimanding her but discarded the idea as they weren’t in the Monastery, and she wasn’t one of the children he was charged with raising.

Elly flinched and instinctively took a step back; she was all bark and no bite. She shot him a brief glare and made it clear she wouldn’t hesitate to fight back; she was no stranger to violence and was intimate with such things, though she had no intention of being reminded.

❝ Alas, it is not my place to discipline. ❞ He took note of her reaction and considered it punishment enough, or at least a good warning.

❛ Jus’ try it, slebog. ❜ Her hand shifted to grab a fleam resting on the shelf; she did not brandish it but hid it behind her. Even if he stepped off; she was clearly ready to throw down and fight.

❝ You’re a fierce little cub, aren’t you? ❞ Deciding not to take the bait, he let out a sharp chuckle. ❝ Impudent, but admirable. ❞

❝ And that look in your eyes. ❞ Achaius cast his own mocking grin. ❝ You really are Lorem’s spawn. ❞

❝ Don’t you dare speak her name, you cunt. ❞ Elly growled; her usually soft-spoken tone breaking into one laced with anger. This time, her Wyddel Brogue made way for her Lucidorian undertone, slightly more nasal and without the melodic lilt.

Achaius paused; a look of disbelief washed over him. Whether he knew it would get such a rise out of her or not, code-switching wasn’t something one would expect.

❝ Well. It seems manners were not among the teachings of thieves. ❞ He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. He stroked his beard and tapped his cane, a sound that was starting to irritate Elly as much as his own voice. ❝ And that temper. Another vice you share. ❞

❝ I – am not my mother. ❞ Elly spoke slowly in an almost whisper; the anger in her voice was palpable, almost enough to mask the tremble. ❝ If that’s whatcha’ here for – ya’ can fuck right off ❞

❝ I sincerely hope so. ❞ He was clearly amused by how quickly her demeanour shifted from mocking to malicious. ❝ But that is not why I am here. ❞

❝ What – D’ya’ want? ❞

Elly frowned; she knew not to let her anger get the best of her; but nothing else could make her blood boil more than hearing that name.

❝ Ah, yes. I am here to request an urgent consignment for the Monastery. ❞

Achaius rummaged around the small bag on his hip, which she had only noticed just now. It wasn’t all he had; a small medic kit hung on his other hip, right next to a sheathed dagger. He pulled out what appeared to be a rather long laundry list in the form of a neatly rolled parchment and held it out to her. ❝ Could you please give this to Veld when he returns? ❞

❝ Um – Sure? ❞

Elly hesitantly took the roll of parchment from him and examined it, but hesitated to open it on account of the wax seal showing the Guild’s official emblem, as well as the mark of Hywel, the capital of Talhaearn. It was clearly more than a typical request for supplies, and she knew better than to open such things, at least, not when the priest was around; she knew Veld wouldn’t particularly care either way.

❝ I can trust you to give it to him, no? ❞ Achaius added, this time it was his turn to push her buttons, but she seemed to brush off the comment with no more than a brief grimace.

❝ I can check – stock n’tha’ meantime. ❞ She passed it between her hands a few times, inspecting it from every angle. She didn’t mention that she couldn’t read and often relied on visuals to remember such things. ❝ I can check. Check what’s missin’ ❞

❝ Thank you. Be sure to tell him this is urgent, and to let us know if he cannot obtain the supplies, so we may look elsewhere. ❞ Achaius nodded, bowing once more before placing his hat on his head and turning on his heel to leave.

❝ Yes. ❞ Elly returned the bow, albeit hesitantly. ❝ Yer’ – welcome. ❞

❝ I am curious. ❞ Achaius paused, scratching his beard as if deep in thought. ❝ How is it that I could not sense your presence just now? My eyes may fail me, but I like to think my other senses more than make up for it. ❞

❝ Dunno? ❞ Elly didn’t quite understand the question; she had some idea of what he was talking about, but never really thought about it herself. ❝ Why? ❞

❝ Interesting. ❞ He added, she could tell he wanted to say something, but decided not to dwell on it. ❝ No matter. It is not important. ❞

❝ Ok? ❞ To say she was confused would be an understatement.

❝ Well. I must be off then. Please send word when the supplies are ready. I can have one of our parishioners collect them, unless we can arrange delivery, which would work better for us. ❞

❝ Will do. ❞ Elly nodded, already making her way back to the counter.

❝ One more thing. ❞ His tone shifted to a more serious note. ❝ Have you been to Vesalius as of late? ❞

❝ No? ❞ The question caught her off guard; it would have been an odd question to ask if she hadn’t. It wasn’t any of his business to begin with. ❝ Why? ❞

❝ Lady Isobel mentioned she saw you there a few days ago and wanted to let you know she will drop by once she is able. ❞ Achaius smiled warmly with a hearty chuckle.

❝ Wait – Iris is back? ❞ Elly snapped back around to catch Achaius waving at her as he stepped out of the apothecary, but rather than walking away, he tapped his cane on the ground as his whole body seemed to fade away as if stepping into a dense fog, leaving the young girl as confused as she was surprised. Yet the smile she wore was genuine.

❝ Hywlfawr, little Wren. ❞