World of Arbre: A Scarlett Tale

Morning brought rain to the town of Westgate, which was a common enough occurrence in this Gods' forsaken place. Westgate: The only place in all of Arbre where the people rust. Scarlett laughed to herself at this amusing wordplay, letting herself enjoy the peaceful moments before the day began, listening intently to the world around her. Raindrops pattering in the tinned roof of the inn, slightly different tone as they struck the cheap glass panes of the window. Vannevar's deep and slumbering breaths beside her as his chest rose and fell evenly in the early dawn air. He was so calm and beautiful as he slept, his trademarked brow furrow was even absent, his half elven features at peace for once. As if he sensed her gaze, his eyes fluttered open after a few minutes, a small smile finding his lips as he looked back into her face.

"What?" Scarlett asked him with a playful grin of her own. Curling locks of her black hair cascaded around her face and made her eyes glitter like obsidian in the grey light.

"Nothing." He reached up and brushed the hair from her face in an intimate gesture. "Just love you, is all." She took his hand and kissed it softly. He sighed contentedly and rested his hand on her cheek for a while before grimacing and sitting up. "I have to go to work."

Scarlett pouted theatrically and crossed her arms over her chest. But this was all play, she knew he had to work, it was part of her plan. Vannevar began to dress in his guard uniform, and collect his possessions from the end table. His keys were still there and bore no signs of the copying clay which Scarlett had used, she noted with satisfaction. Seemingly dressed and pleased enough with his appearance, Vannevar turned and smiled at her again. "How do I look?"

Scarlett paused a second as she let her eyes trace up and down his physique, grinning demurely. "Like a million gold." She reached up and kissed him softly, passionately. "Now go, you'll be late."

*****

Two days later, the sun rose and Westgate gleamed in this radiant start to its day. Scarlett watched from her cheap window as the guards removed Vannevar in chains and paraded him down the street. She turned to her guests, two women garbed in the traditional black of the Black Masks thieves guild, and bowed floridly to them.

"It's done. You have your score, the crime is solved, there will be no further inquiries." She tossed a small velvet bag, bulging from within and obviously very heavy, to one of them. "There's my payment. I'm out. Tell the Masks I never want to see or hear from them again."

The bag vanished beneath a cloak with a quick movement and one of the women chuckled darkly. "You're out when we say you're out, Devilkin." The two of them stood and stepped into the shadows that began to stretch languidly around the room. There was a strange absence of noise and then they were gone. Scarlett stood still for several minutes as the parting words rattled around in her mind. With a primal scream she threw the cup of tea she was drinking at the wall where the two had vanished.

* * * * *

Three weeks passed. Scarlett now sat in a dockside tavern in Amonthas, her glorious curls looking frayed and wild, her red skin bruised and her delicate face had huge dark circles under her black eyes. To say that fate had turned on her would be an understatement. Vannevar had turned out to be an agent of the Silver Hand, which had brought with it a new set of problems. They had, of course, investigated what had happened, and in little time her involvement had become clear to them.

Word passed along the network of their operatives, and soon enough she was a wanted woman in Westgate as well as its surrounding area. Worse yet, the Black Masks were concerned that she would flip sides and betray them. And so Scarlett had fled under cover of a merchant caravan to far-flung Vael, dodging both Silver Circle Investigators and Mask Assassins the whole way. Things were bad, worse than they'd ever been for Scarlett, and she'd begun to feel very sorry for herself.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" The voice was feminine and carried an accent similar to her own. Scarlett looked up to see a middle aged human woman with brilliant red hair and a milky complexion besotted with millions of freckles. Her dress was old and patched in many places with off colored bits of fabric which didn't detract at all from its beauty but seemed to add to it.

Scarlett only glared and made a small snort of derision. "I'm not looking for work, and if you're here for fun that may be the worst line ever dreamt up." The woman only looked at her intently and smiled knowingly. She motioned for the server to bring food and more drink to them both, and took a seat opposite Scarlett. "I didn't ask you to sit or invite you to stay."

Again the woman smiled and winked at her. "You will." She reached across the table and patted Scarlett's hand warmly. "Young man," she began conspiratorially, "Tell me… do you believe in the concept of Fate? Of the cycle and balance between life and death, and of our inherent connection to it?"

Scarlett flinched back and glared at this strange woman with open hate. How DARE she? "You…" she spluttered angrily "Who the fuck are you? How do you- Why did you- What? I don't know what you're talking about!"

The waitress came and dropped off two big plates of hot food, eggs and seasoned potatoes by the look and smell, and two big glasses of cold guava juice. The woman tucked into hers unconcerned by Scarlett's reaction. "I'm Maegwyn." She said it so serenely, almost like that should explain everything. "And yes, you *do* know what I'm talking about. Or rather, you will." There it was again, that enigmatic phrase that she would forever associate with her future teacher/mentor. You will. Like she knew everything. "Now eat. You've not had more than a stray piece of jerky for days…"

* * * * *

And so it went for ten months. Scarlett ate that dinner and Maegwyn stayed at her side, giving her a home, a life and purpose. To her credit, Maegwyn never again addressed Scarlett as 'young man' ever again, nor did she press the subject with Scarlett until they were ready to talk on their own terms. The two passed the days and nights with Maegwyn teaching Scarlett about the Cycle of life and death, and why it was so very important that it not be feared but embraced. Without the ever looming presence of death, life was meaningless. And that was, in essence, the meaning of life. To live, to experience, to love, drink, laugh and cry WAS the point of it all. And that cycle held power… power that Maegwyn taught Scarlett to tap into and control. Soon she could heal small wounds and produce miraculous effects that her teacher called 'Magick Prayers", to her shock Scarlett was quite adept at them.

She also learned to adapt the gifts of her previous life such as reading people, gaining trust and getting close to make a living as a fortune teller and mystic, helping Maegwyn pay the bills. After a particularly good day Scarlett took her mentor out to supper at her favourite tavern and after a wonderful dinner and a couple drinks of deep Amonthian Red, she took a shuddering breath and began to speak.

"Mae, I wanted to thank you. For all I've learned, for all I've grown. And. And for not asking about certain things…" Scarlett's black eyes glittered and her volume of shiny black hair was delicately styled, framing her face nicely. "I was born a boy. Sometimes I feel like one, other times I feel like…" she gestured down at her feminine form. "Well. This. And so, 'Scarlett'."

Her teacher looked at her student with kindness and love. "I wondered what this was all about, and why the fancy food and wine. I've known since I first met you, child. And I love you just the same. What you were born and what you become are two different things, my dear one." Tears began to spill from Scarlett's eyes and down her red cheeks. "Aw, no child, you'll make me cry too…. Come here." The two of them embraced and finished a wonderful meal, never speaking of that topic ever again.

* * * * *

Maegwyn passed away a month after that, under mysterious circumstances. Scarlett was never absolutely sure, but there did seem a sudden onset of sickness that might have indicated poison. Before she could investigate further, word reached her from a couple of Mae's old customers that there was a group of foreigners asking questions about a young devilkin woman matching Scarlett's description. And so, she packed her meager belongings and set aside Scarlett. Gone were the revealing dresses, the high heels and fortune telling…. She became a Cleric, travelling the Realms in service to the Cycle. New tattoos, eye makeup and clothes were bought, a wonderful cloak that had once belonged to Mae, embroidered with blossoms of a delicate flower from which Scarlett was inspired to choose her new name.

"Chrysanthemum." He tried it out, affecting his home accent fully for the first time in a decade. "Ja. I am Chrysanthemum. Or Chrys, if I like you." Smiling at his reflection, he set out to find a new life and new adventures. "Like a million gold."