Chapter 6 Midwinter #2
The shop owner grunted noncommittally before handing him five coins and a slip of paper with the terms of their deal and pocketing the coin.
For a few seconds, Kraghtol felt uneasy, and he hesitated, but there was nothing to do about it now.
He had to trust the man. With the deal sealed and his bag filled with clinking coins, he made his way towards the school to pay Mrs. Urdson.
The next day was the most special day of the year, or rather, outside of the year.
Traditionally, the winter solstice was celebrated with large public feasts, sweet wine and gifts for children.
Aside from ‘the winter solstice’, the day wasn’t anything.
It came after the 28th day of the 13th month, which was always a Masonday, and before the first day of the new year, which always was, of course, a Firstday.
A day between the years, outside the calendar and without a name or number.
Being the winter solstice, it was also the darkest day of the year, although in places as far up in the north as Mistpine, it technically didn’t differ from the days before or after.
There, it was merely the middle of the long night, a period entirely without sunlight.
But in a way, the solstice was also the brightest day of the year.
Nobody liked darkness. Neither the humans nor the star-gazing elves.
Not even the dwarves in their mountain halls were fond of it.
And so, the whole day was illuminated by hundreds of candles, torches, paper lights and Dwarven metal lanterns burning oil, until the streets were almost brighter than any other time of the year.
Kraghtol had always felt conflicted about the celebration.
It was a festival of community, and he never really felt like he belonged to that community.
Then again, people were just a little bit more relaxed and friendly than usual, and the food was good, which alone was reason enough to attend the celebrations with his foster father.
From the moment he woke up, Kraghtol had the feeling today would be different in a lot of ways.
Dark and confusing dreams had haunted him, as they did most of the nights here in Winterstone, but Kraghtol paid them little attention by now.
For a while, he had tried to make sense of the nightmares, but the swampy area where most of his dreams took place was unlike anything he had ever seen, so eventually, he gave up on trying to identify it.
However, one thing still kept his mind occupied.
Even though the landscape was alien and as nonsensical as he’d expected from a dream, his dream self couldn’t help but notice one element: Mandrake plants overgrew the entire area far more than he’d ever seen.
For some reason, that fact rang a bell in his mind, like a distant memory, but he couldn’t put a finger on why that was the case.
Downstairs, Mrs. Brott surprised him with a hot iron tray in her hands.
“Ah, Krasen! Happy solstice, my dear! I baked you some cookies!”
Kraghtol was touched. Aside from Merrick, who honestly wasn’t very talented in the kitchen, nobody would ever have considered baking a gift for him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Brott! You didn’t have to do that!” He said loudly.
“Nonsense, boy, I baked a pile of them anyway, so I might as well give some to you. Take them and celebrate, but don’t get too drunk. I know how you young folks are on solstice!”
Kraghtol smiled.
“Don’t worry, I will try to behave.”
Munching on a cookie, he set out to the main marketplace and was greeted by a sea of colorful lights, far more than compared to his home village. It seemed like every inhabitant of the big city was determined to light up the streets all by themselves. And it was only morning.
Kraghtol spent most of the day wandering around the ice-cold streets, listening to the snow crunching under his boots, taking in the decorations and making himself useful where he could.
There was enough work to do before the festivities would start, and having nothing better to do, he was happy to help.
Finally, in the late afternoon, musicians began to play, and the air filled with the sweet smell of honey wine.
People poured onto the market from all sides and quickly filled the streets, singing, dancing and eating.
Kraghtol was overwhelmed. This was so much larger than everything he knew from home, and he quickly found himself merrily chatting, eating, and even drinking some of the sweet wine.
Just as he went to fetch more of the delicious roast, he spotted a familiar face; it was the ferrywoman he had met weeks ago when entering the city.
She looked much healthier than she had on the boat.
Without thinking too much, he approached her.
“Happy solstice! Good to see your cough got better!”
She seemed to be in a relaxed mood and raised her glass towards him.
“Happy solstice yourself, young man. Yes, I feel much better, thank you. Forgive me for not remembering, but who are you again? Have we met when I was ill?”
Just as he wanted to remind her of the short ferry ride, his brain caught up to his mouth. Right, he had looked quite different back then.
“I… uh… I’m a friend of Kragh. Perhaps you remember him better than me. He’s a big green guy.”
“Oh! The orc! Of course I remember him.”
“Half-orc,” Kraghtol quickly corrected her, but the woman had already gone on.
“Never met such a polite savage! And so helpful! A shame the guards ripped him off like that. Paid a whole silver coin for entry. But yes, his advice really did wonders. He must have quite the knack for healing.”
The woman was obviously drunk, and although Kraghtol was sure she didn’t mean to insult him, her words stung a bit. Was that how people talked about him when he wasn’t there? Was he a ‘savage’ to them?
It was the first intrusive thought since taking the potion, and Kraghtol quickly shooed the thought away. Stars above, she was actually praising him! He quickly forced a smile and nodded.
“Yes, he knows a thing or two. I will tell him you got better.”
He had half-expected the entry fee to be a fabrication, but even though he was low on money, he wasn’t too angry about it. Even in hindsight, what should he have done differently back then?
“Oh, don’t forget to thank him properly in my stead! Should think of getting a healer’s license, that man!”
Kraghtol suppressed a bitter laugh. If only she knew.
“Well, I’ll leave you to the festivities. Happy solstice, lady!”
“Happy solstice!”
After this encounter, Kraghtol was more careful with the wine. Having never drunk much in his life, the alcohol had loosened his tongue a bit too quickly for his liking, and he needed to cool down before he accidentally blurted out his true identity.
So, he found a quiet place at the edge of the place and sat down on an empty bench.
It was part of multiple rows of benches set up for a puppet show for children, but only the front rows were packed with giggling young humans and elves, while at the back, there was no one but Kraghtol.
It was a pretty entertaining show, if somewhat silly, with the puppets re-enacting stories and legends from all over the realm.
Right now, a small group of puppets representing the brave and witty heroes from the realm tried to sneak past a patrol comprising a rather dumb troll, a mischievous pixie, and a downright evil orc leader.
Neither of the three was very convincing in their role, but the kids still screamed and booed as loud as they could, while the troll, pixie, and orc puppets laughed and threatened them.
It was a harmless play, but the longer Kraghtol looked at it, the more uneasy he felt.
He had heard part of the story before, perhaps on a similar occasion back home.
If he remembered correctly, it was about a buried treasure in the so-called stormy steppes, which were supposed to be a hostile place outside the safe borders of Wardenreach.
The plot was as shallow as you would expect from a children’s play, and the evil antagonists weren’t very competent at all.
In the end, after the brave heroes had defeated the troll and the pixie, the evil orc was so annoyed he literally sank into the ground and was never seen again.
He was just about to search for a place to sit that made him less uncomfortable when he noticed he was not, in fact, the only one in the back rows.
Two benches in front of him, and partly hidden in the shadows of a wall, sat two adults he couldn’t make out more than their silhouettes of.
They were talking in low voices, and if he concentrated, he could listen in.
“What do you mean ‘circumvent’?”
“You know full well it’s unbreakable. Or rather, unbreakable by anything other than death. But I may have found a… loophole.”
The second voice was even lower than the first one, but Kraghtol’s eyes went wide as he immediately recognized the melodic voice of his Elven teacher, Holen Merress. And he also knew the first voice, although it had been some weeks now since he had heard it.
“This is… beyond dangerous. Are you sure about this? Why would you tell me, of all people?” asked Thalen Virex, local guild master of the Alchemists’ Guild in Winterstone, his voice now almost a whisper.
“I wouldn’t tell you if I weren’t sure. Think about it, Thalen. We could be free. I can’t solve this alone, but with your help —”
A louder wave of screaming laughter from the front rows swallowed the rest of the sentence as the troll puppet stumbled over its own feet in the most incompetent way imaginable. Only after a good while was he able to get the last part of Virex’s reply.
“— but we have to be extremely careful about this. If he finds out, we’re both dead. Remember, you’re already under scrutiny. If the smallest word gets out —”