Beyond the Western Deep

Hi everyone! As promised last week, a hiatus short story for your reading pleasure! Think of this as a kind of epilogue/prologue. On one hand it helps wrap up The Scholar and the Seawal, and on the other hand it sets up some fun future stories we may tell with the characters!

Enjoy, and see you all next week with a new page!

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THE SCHOLARS’ GUILD

The two figures stopped for a moment at the forest’s edge, one felis, one lutren. The endless trees and their seemingly infinite heights almost immediately giving way to the wide open Terrian Pavilion. Long and well-manicured grass pathways snaked around the grand Ancestor Trees, leading off to the Royal Quarter and King Dabheid’s Dayroom.

The lutren couldn’t help but grin as she glanced down the pathway. “I hear their king is a bit…”

“Portly?” The felis returned the grin, but only for a moment before turning down another path. “So I’ve heard as well. But we keep such things to ourselves. The Scholars of the Spire may describe him as such for history’s sake, but it is still impolite to mention.”

“Isa, c’mon…” The lutren frowned. “You know I’d never… You know, out in the open.”

The felis scholar winked and nodded upwards into the trees. Tamian citizens were leaping between the Ancestor Trees with the innate skill of their kind, barely seeming to notice the pair walking on the ground below. “In Terria, you never know who’s listening.”

The lutren took a second to reshoulder her bags–which contained all the supplies for both herself and her companion. The two traveled light, all things considered. Scholars of the Spire were not known to be fussy, integrating as they had to in all manner of cultures and locations throughout Dunia.

Isa sniffed the air and smiled as she exhaled. “Nothing meant to offend, but I do love the smell of this place. The wildflowers, the grass, the trees…”

The lutren took a deep breath and sneezed violently, the sound echoing between the massive trees all around them. Isa laughed. “You’ll get used to it someday. All that ocean air’s conditioned you in a curious way.”

“Curious?”

“When you settle in a spot, your body starts to treat everywhere else as strange and foreign. It tries to force it out, like a cold.” The felis took another deep breath, wafting her paw in front of her nose to draw in more of the aromatics flitting around her. “But when you stay on the move as I have, you find every place feels like home.”

The lutren sighed. “I’m still getting used to the ground not moving around.”

“You’ll get used to it, Nora. I promise.” The felis smiled and gestured down the path. “We’re headed this way.”

The lutren nodded and followed her felis friend further into Terria. Nora had never been to the Terrian capital before, the closest she’d ever gotten to it being the port town of Dale just west of the city. Even from the docks on the coastline, the size of the trees marveled her. And she knew they only got larger the further into the forest you went.

The two of them were passing by a number of ground-level structures, various trading posts and gathering spots for tamian and their decidedly non-tamian friends. There were no easy paths up into the higher levels for those not able to scale the trees. A tamian in a gray tunic laughed it up with her canid companion, both seeming to be more than a few tankards of acorn ale into their conversation, whatever it was. A vulpin and a lutren sat intently at a small wooden table playing a game of mearog, rolling dice and swapping colored stones around on the small game board.

“You said before that you were interested in hearing more stories,” Isa said. “Have you heard about how the lutren and tamian first came to found Sunsgrove?”

Nora nodded. “There was a war at first, between us. Well, no, it wasn’t really a war, but…”

Isa stopped at a crossroads and squinted, trying to remember something. “Oh, hm…left or right.”

The lutren cocked her head. “Want me to ask?”

Isa waved a paw. “No, no, I just need to-”

“Excuse me,” Nora flagged down a passing tamian scout, their light armor a clear indicator of their station. “We’re trying to find the Scholar’s Guildhall.”

The tamian nodded sharply and professionally. “Of course.” He pointed behind them. “You want to go back the way you came to the fork, take a left, and then follow the path to the Lansdown Quarter.”

Isa winced imperceptibly, though Nora caught it and smirked the slightest bit. Her companion was wise in a great many ways, but had a very hard time admitting she was ever wrong. The two of them had been traveling together for only a handful of weeks and already the lutren had seen the quirk manifest–mostly in regards to directions (another thing Isa was not particularly good at).

“Thank you very much,” Nora said, speaking for her felis friend. “We must’ve gotten turned around somewhere.” She threw a look at Isa, who couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, these paths all look quite similar,” the felis said.

The tamian scout shrugged, already moving on to other things in his head. Nora gestured back down the path identically to how Isa had prior. “Now we’re headed this way!”

“How long did you know we were going the wrong direction?” The two of them started back the way they came. Nora laughed.

“The moment you stopped at the fork,” Nora said. “I read the signs. The left fork led to the western outskirts and the right fork to the wheat fields.”

“Ah! Yes, well!” Isa nodded sagely. “See, I was trying to remember if there was a shortcut to-”

“Sure, sure,” Nora waved a paw dismissively. “Anyway, what I was saying before-”

“About the war, right!” Isa nodded again, this time with the interest she reserved for any storytelling opportunity. “Technically it was a war! Officially, the Scholars of the Spire chronicled it as two separate conflicts: there was the Palisade War, and then there was the Polcan War of 110.” She wrinkled her nose. “Never liked the second one, because it assumes you already know it happened in the Second Era.”

Nora cleared her throat. “I’m more hung up on the Palisade War.”

The two travelers followed the tamian scout’s directions and very quickly they found themselves approaching the Lansdown Quarter. Here, the trees were far less numerous, replaced by a more conventional series of homes and businesses owned and operated by non-tamian foreigners from throughout the Four Kingdoms (the land-bound nature of these structures being the origin of the quarter’s name).

To Nora, it felt most similar to the Lutren residential districts she grew up in, though these were made of wood and other simple building materials. In Lutra, every home in the main city was carved into stone or built from stone in some manner. Wood tended to rot quickly, after all.

Isa said something.

“Hm?” Nora turned. The felis was waving toward the trees that, while certainly fewer in number here, were still an essential part of the landscape.

“The trees, my dear Nora! A natural palisade, a defensive structure used in that first conflict between the lutren and tamian. It lasted two years, and ended only when the polcan decided to try and stake their claim.”

The Scholars’ Guild was an unassuming, squat building made of red brick–which Nora found to be most curious compared to the other structures nearby. She ran a paw against its coarse surface as Isa hopped over to the front door, which was made of a very solid piece of oak. It was very large, very heavy, and very locked.

Isa rapped on the door, though it barely made a sound. “Hello?” She asked. She leaned side to side. There were a few windows along the wall, but all were filled with frosted glass. A few pricks of muted orange light could be seen therein, suggesting candlelight. “Scholar reporting. What’s the news?” She waited a moment, then turned back to Nora. “When the polcan attacked, the lutren and tamian came together–formed an alliance. That’s when the Polcan War of 110 started.”

There was the sound of a large metal bolt being shuttled around in a latching mechanism, clicks and clacks, and then the heavy oaken door creaked open. Inside, an older felis with bent whiskers and frizzy, unkempt fur peered nervously from behind the door. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed.

“Mm. Spire’s sun, travelers.” The felis scholar nodded, offering a common Gairian greeting. “Name’s Roarke.”

“Spire’s sun,” Isa returned.

“Er… Spire’s sun.” Nora’s throat caught on the words, and Isa laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s more of a thing between Scholars of the Spire anyway.” Isa turned back to Roarke. “May we come in?”

The elder felis nodded and stepped back from the door, granting access. The moment Isa’s feet touched the floor inside, however, Roarke stepped in front of her again. Isa blinked in surprise.

“Yyyyes?”

Roarke pointed at the younger felis’ sandals. Indeed, it was uncommon for felis scholars to don footwear of any sort, especially those who lived in close proximity to the scrolls that they cared for and worked among. The exceptions were scholars who traveled beyond the gates of civilization to seek out the knowledge of faraway places, cultures, and peoples. Lots of walking often meant sore feet, so a good pair of travel sandals, foot wrappings, or anything on that spectrum helped save many a scholar’s feet.

Isa immediately got the hint and slipped her rhinestone-dotted sandals off just inside the doorway. Nora, still very much the lutren sailor, had little difficulty handling the harsh terrain bare-pawed.

“Good,” Roarke said. “Now, you said you were reporting?” He turned his back to the two of them, wandering further inside. The squat building was filled to the brim with rolled-up scrolls of all shapes and sizes. Books, scraps of note paper, even stone tablets and wooden carvings adorned some of the cluttered shelves inside the guildhall.

“What is all this?” Nora asked.

“This is every piece of information collected by the traveling Scholars of the Spire since…?” Isa trailed off, turning to Roarke. The elder felis mused on this for a few solid moments.

“Mm, two months ago, probably.” He lifted up a pile of parchments on a wooden workstation nearby, cocked his head to get a better look at a date written therein, and nodded to himself. “Three months, actually. About due for a transport, honestly.”

“Transport?” Nora furrowed her brow.

“Back to the Spire,” Isa said. She twirled a claw in midair, gesturing for Nora to turn around. “Now, let me get at my book, if you please.”

The lutren complied, and Isa began to dig through the supplies she was hoisting on her back.

“An assistant, hm?” Roarke was amused. “And a lutren at that. Curious choice.”

“Curious how?” Nora ears folded back the slightest bit, her eyes narrowing. “And what makes you think she picked me? Maybe I picked her!”

Isa laughed, though its authenticity was suspect. She pulled her traveling tome out from the bag and quickly spun around, keeping between Roarke and her companion, one arm out to each of them. “All right, all right, down to business, hm?” She winked at Nora, who crossed her arms and grumbled.

“What business, then?” Roarke asked, nodding toward the book in Isa’s hand. “You said you had a report?”

Isa flicked her wrist and shoved the book into the elder felis’ chest. “Page one-ninety-four. Three and one-quarter pages, standard pages, fisherscript.”

Roarke set the book on a nearby table spine-first, letting it split open naturally as the pages cascaded down from their elevated position. He was scanning the pages as they fluttered down like feathers in the wind. “I don’t suppose I need to ask this, since you appear to have been active for quite some time, but did you mark it with your seal?”

“Do I look like a kitten to you?” Isa groaned. “Do I look like I rolled off some gilded wagon from Kishar, my tome still stiff from the printer?”

“I was just asking-”

“Do I look like I still buy my inks from some shop? Look at that coloration!” She thrust a claw between two falling pages. Nora tilted her head for a closer look. The ink here was lighter and quite a bit redder than what she remembered seeing on their ship.

“Damson and chokeberries, with a dash of acorn rum,” Isa said.

Roarke nodded. “Yes, yes.”

“And this from the latest entry,” she continued, flipping to the one-hundred-and-ninety-fourth page. This ink was blue-black, much thicker and heavier on the page. “See that?” She leaned in close to the elder felis, squinting. “Do you see it?”

Roarke blinked. “I, ah… I see it?”

“Harborsquid. Ink.” Isa held on each word, then her right hand shot up between her face and Roarke’s. “Caught it with my own hands!”

The elder felis cleared his throat and took a step back. “Well, that is, uh… that is quite impressive.” He blinked, then looked a bit irritated. “Wait. You haven’t answered my question.”

Isa groaned and flipped a few more pages. There, at the end of her account from the Western Sea, was a small wax stamp that, Nora assumed, was specific to Isa. She didn’t know more than a few characters of felis script, but she did recognize Isa’s name on its frontage.

“Good,” said Roarke. “Now, I’ll need the stamp so I can verify.”

“Seems an awful lot of verifying happening here,” Nora said.

Isa gestured once more for her associate to spin around so she could get at her bag. “Well, the Scholars of the Spire are held accountable for their writing. If something is deemed incorrect or not well-enough researched to be admitted into the Spire Library, the scholar is summoned to a tribunal to argue their case.”

“Sounds serious,” said the lutren. “I knew you were only allowed to write the truth, but I guess I never wondered how that really worked.”

Roarke tsked. “Perhaps you should acquaint yourself, then, if you are to be accompanying a scholar?” He leaned inward, emulating some of Isa’s prior dramatic flair. “Scribes who willingly lie or present false records are punished most harshly.”

“Harshly?” Nora’s breath caught in her throat. “Harsh how?”

Isa found her stamp buried at the bottom of her bag and snaked it out, tossing the small wooden block to Roarke. “It’s not as bad as he makes it sound.”

Nora smiled, relieved. “It sounded like they, I dunno-”

“Chop your hand off?” Isa laughed, then cleared her throat awkwardly. “Yes, that is actually what they do.”

“What?!” The lutren gasped. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking?”

“Not joking,” Roarke said, his voice now exceedingly cold. He finished evaluating the stamp against the mark in Isa’s book, then tossed it back to her. “Your writing hand, the one that cast doubt on the Spire’s mission and risked destroying our chance to reach the next plane. That is the one they take.”

“My goodness.” Nora could barely believe what she was hearing. “So, that’s why you go so far to get the truth?”

Isa nodded, shoving the stamp back in the travel bag. “That’s why we all go out into the world ourselves, a common language, a common script, a common goal.”

Roarke gingerly picked up the tome, now satisfied with its authenticity, and carried it over to a scribing table where numerous sheets of parchments were stacked together. He set the volume down and flipped back to the beginning of Isa’s entry. He read through the whole thing once, his eyes and smile widening as Isa’s harrowing tale continued through to its barely believable conclusion. His eyes slid up to the two, though his nose remained buried in the book. “Seems you’ve been on quite the adventure. Sunsgrovian myth would’ve been my first choice back in my traveling days.”

“What did you do instead?” Isa asked.

“I trailed a scientist in Nessa for a few years,” he said with a wistful sigh. “Had some rather intriguing theories about the stars. But she was old and I was hungry for more. So I started lobbying for something north of the border.”

“The Wastes?” Isa frowned. “Not the cushiest of assignments.”

“I wanted to see what was happening up there,” said Roarke. He continued his story while simultaneously copying Isa’s tome to a sheet of parchment. “Wound up as the principal writer on a little something you might know called ‘Oran and the People of the Wastes: 2E:235’.”

Nora shrugged not at all knowing it, but when she turned to see Isa’s reaction was astonished to see her friend positively ecstatic, barely able to contain herself.

“YOU?” She was grinning ear to ear. “I LIVED 235 during my apprenticeship! I adored it!”

Nora, keenly aware of her lack of knowledge on literally everything being discussed in the room at that moment, decided to keep her mouth shut. Even if she didn’t know what on Dunia the two felis were talking about, Nora most definitely knew it was important to her companion; Isa’s expression was the same she had when she saw the seawal breach the surface of the Western Sea, blocking out the sun for but a brief moment.

Roarke, meanwhile, seemed more than happy to bask in Isa’s glowing appraisals. “Well, I appreciate your words, my dear. It was a long time ago, I wasn’t sure those tomes were still being referenced.”

“Oh, you haven’t been to the Spire in a long time then, I imagine,” said Isa. “All that business up north with the tribes coming together under one ermehn? It’s history repeating itself, they say.”

The elder laughed. “History repeats itself constantly. Even the worst of days behind us can be preferable to the bitter unknowns of tomorrow.”

Isa carefully sidled up next to the elder felis at the desk. “You must tell me about your travels up there. I would love to-”

“There are no free stories, Isa.” He finished his copying and set his quill back into its stand. “You want more, you must earn it.” Holding the parchment aloft, he smiled at the young scholar. “This is some of the finest work I’ve seen. You bring me more, you get more stories. Agreed?”

“Oh, this is exciting! Yes, of course!” Isa nodded sharply. “Tamian folktales are next, so we needn’t go too far afield.”

Roarke glanced at Nora, amused. “So, you’re the one from her recording on the ship, yes? You were there when that creature came to the surface. You saw the kinds of nonsense we deal with on a regular basis, and yet still you-”

“Volunteered for more?” Nora grinned. “Yup!”

“Ha!” The felis scribe leaned over to Isa and gestured to the lutren as he closed her book and held it up for her. “Now I see why you’re letting her tag along. She’s just as crazy as you.”

Isa reclaimed the book and Nora dutifully spun around so she could access the satchel once more. The book slid effortlessly back into place and Isa clapped her hands together.

“Speaking of which, I do believe we owe you some more stories.”

Roarke nodded, then his ears suddenly perked up. “Oh! I forgot to give your stipend, didn’t I?” He stood from his seat and shuffled over to a strongbox. Inside were a multitude of small pouches made of heavy brown cloth and tied with string. He picked one out, considered it a moment, then picked up a second one.

“Here,” he said, tossing the pair to Isa. “A bonus. For a story both true and entertaining.”

Isa tested the bags’ heft in her hands. “Amber drops?”

“We’re in Terria, aren’t we?” The elder winked. “They’ll get you further than most else, especially around here. Exchange rate is pretty poor with everything but pearl flakes.”

“I appreciate that,” said Isa. “I was down to my last few pieces from Gair and didn’t want to spend them here.” She offered the bags to Nora, who stuffed them into the satchel. As the felis scholar glanced at her friend, she snapped a claw.

“I know where we’re going next!”

“The Western Deep?” Roarke asked, intrigued. “Treewalker Rift? Tell me!”

“A clothier!” Isa clapped her hands together, evaluating Nora up and down. “You need more appropriate traveling clothes, no doubt about it. Especially now that you’re representing the Spire.

Roarke looked disappointed by the revelation, but Nora returned Isa’s massive grin. “Only if I don’t have to wear a robe like yours.”

“Fair!” Isa began to lead Nora back toward the front door. She leaned back to her elder. “Roarke, dear sir, it has been an absolute pleasure.”

“Likewise, I think,” he said.

“We shall return posthaste with new stories of high adventure, and you will tell us more about your adventures up north.” Isa opened the door, and waved to Roarke, who returned the gesture. Nora felt herself getting pushed out the door, but managed a quick wave behind her.

“Nice to meet you, sir!” She managed just the five words before Isa got her outside. The door shut, and the two were alone outside on the doorstep once more.

“A bit of an abrupt exit, wasn’t it?” Nora asked.

Isa shrugged. “We’ve got places to go! People to see! Myths to prove real!”

“And clothes to buy, evidently.”

“Yes, that too!” Isa laughed. “Do you remember the way to the Market Quarter?”

Nora rolled her eyes. “Yes. And might I say, it’s a good thing you brought me along, because I have no idea how you’ve survived this long with a sense of direction as bad as yours.”

Isa elbowed the lutren in the ribs. “I know! You’re perfect. You can read a map, a compass, a sextant, even the constellations! And me? I can read books.”

“Then I suppose we make a proper team,” said Nora. “Shall we?”

The two began their trek back up the path toward the nearby marketplace. Beyond that, more paths, more roads, and even more stories awaited.

For Isa and Nora, this would be the first of many visits to Roarke.

And, if you can believe it, the best stories were still yet to come.