The Deliverer

Asdras knelt in the biting cold, his hands numb from the frigid snow as he scrubbed away the remnants of their trap. The icy particles clung stubbornly to his skin, each movement sending tingles up his arms. As he worked, memories surged unbidden — times he had woken up for the first time in the village. The world had felt vast and incomprehensible, each day a struggle against the unknown. The fear of not knowing where he was or who he truly was had nestled deep within his mind, leaving him feeling hollow and adrift.

In those early days, numbness had become his shield. _When a boy forgets himself, every sensation is muted, every emotion dulled_. It was as if his mind had draped a thick fog over his consciousness, blurring the lines between past and present, reality and nightmare. The uncertainty of his existence had made him a ghost among the living, wandering through life without purpose or direction, grasping for fragments of identity that seemed to slip away with each passing moment.

Asdras glanced over at Brian, whose own face mirrored his frustrations — albeit for different reasons. What had begun as a half-day filled with training had quickly developed into a moment of quiet reflection beneath the pale winter sun. The two shared a bond forged in hardship.

Shaking his head, Asdras pointed at the stain in the ground. "This. Never again."

Brian nodded, a wry smile forming despite the grimness of their situation. "Yeah, because wasting half our lives here wasn't on the agenda to begin with."

The cold reality of their situation gnawed at them, the pangs of hunger intensifying their discomfort. Their bellies grumbled loudly, the sound echoing unnervingly in the silent expanse. The aroma of ham mingled with the fresh, earthy scent of greens wafting from the tavern made its way over to them, a tantalizing reminder of warmth and sustenance just out of reach.

Asdras took a moment to rest upon a nearby barrel, his eyes following a cat attempting to hunt a bird within the walls of the old church. The struggle between predator and prey mirrored his own internal battles. Turning his head to face Brian, he continued his work with a heavy heart.

Brian was cleaning his head with a bucket of water, his movements methodical. "You really want to go there?"

"The academy? Yes!" Asdras nodded seriously, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.

A brief silence settled between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the village — children's laughter playing in the narrow alleys, the soft murmur of conversations from the tavern, and the occasional clatter of farmers at work. Asdras pondered the uncertain future that lay ahead, feeling like a winding river with many branches. Each path was fraught with risks, and he faced the daunting challenge of choosing the right one without knowing its end.

Asdras looked down at his hand, the faint mark of the crow barely visible beneath his skin. "I think there is much to discover about myself. Perhaps I'll find my family there. Who knows?"

Brian attempted to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Well, I miss him too… So I know the feeling. Maybe they're hitting all the right notes without us."

'His father… He didn't tell much, but it seems he was killed…' Asdras looked at Brian, searching for understanding.

Brian picked up a pebble and threw it toward the bird on the wall, making it flutter away. "Y'know, Asdras, I've been thinking. How about this? When we grow up, we become adventurers, explore the world, have epic battles, and uncover wonders, just like Miss Ellena, huh?"

Asdras laughed hard, playfully elbowing Brian. "Sounds like a plan. Miss Ellena, huh? You've got guts, fancying a lady in her late twenties when you haven't even grown a proper beard yet! Maybe you should stick to cleaner pursuits."

Brian puffed out his chest, sporting a smug look. "Aw, c'mon, Asdras, you'll never grasp the fine art of a refined fella like me. Guys like us are as rare as hen's teeth, and Teacher Ellena is one fetching lady, no doubt about it!"

Asdras chuckled, shaking his head. "I wish you luck then," he said, glancing over at the distant church. "By the way, is it true we're heading to Baurus next week? I miss it."

Brian smirked. "There or that lady?" he teased, examining his friend. "With her flowing, curly golden hair, a face that could charm the birds, a body that'd make Cupid blush, and a grin that could melt an iceberg!"

Suppressing a laugh, Asdras retorted, "Shut up, idiot!"

He paused, trying to recall her name, memories of his time there flickering at the edges of his mind. "What was her name again?"

After Asdras was saved from the wilderness by Joe and Brian, his health had declined with fever and flu, and with no alchemists in the village to help him, Joe had taken him to the city. During the examination in the alchemist's store, he felt a strangely familiar yet distant sensation as a girl his age entered the same room. Instinctively, he knew she could help him. Learning she was enrolling at the academy solidified his resolve — it was there he needed to go.

Asdras sighed sharply, standing up and stretching his body. "And you?"

Brian shrugged nonchalantly. "No change of heart here. I'm heading to the military. The old man might want me to go to the academy, but my sights are set."

Attempting to mimic a lute with his hands, Brian asked, "Playing tonight?"

Asdras shook his head. "Not feeling."

"Feeling, huh? Like a sheep feeling about jumping fences," Brian quipped lightly. "At least Raffin is coming today."

Asdras heard distant footsteps to his left and turned to see a man walking with his horse at his side. Clad in thick, weather-beaten leather garments and a dark cloak, with short hair and a grown beard, the stranger approached with a purposeful hum. Nearing the place where he used to let his horse rest, amidst some straws and seeds, he addressed the boys. "Hi, boys," he spoke clearly. "Playing tonight?" He turned to nod at Asdras.

Before Asdras could reply, Brian interjected. "He's not feeling. Do you believe it, Raffin? Not feeling. Maybe he's just too cool for us."

Asdras shook his head, noticing the sacks and backpack around the horse as Raffin took his time removing them. "How it was?" he asked Raffin.

Raffin took his can of water, sipping it before replying. "The same as ever, the roads didn't change, the apples are apples, and the beers are beers. It's all in a delivery's day."

"Any good news?" Brian asked.

Raffin responded, "A new batch of medicines and a bottle of liquor. That's the good news. As for the other kind o' news, well, tonight, boys, you will know. Maybe we'll find our own Daisy."

Asdras looked at Raffin's dark bag eyes, feeling the weight of responsibility. "Being a Deliverer must be hard," he said softly.

Raffin nodded, his voice steady. "Like any other job, Lute's boy. We braved perilous terrains to bring the essential goods and a breath of the outside world to places like here. Dangerous? Maybe. But keep me in good shape and away from the cities; I prefer the bigger space to a closed one."

The church bell tolled through the courtyard, its deep chime slicing through the crisp midday air. Asdras and Brian exchanged quick glances, and Raffin laughed before asking them to help put the goods inside the church.

As time moved on, the familiar gathering at the tavern became a comforting sight. Though only twenty in number, they represented more than half the village's population, their presence filling the room with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold outside.

Asdras found himself together with Brian and Sheepy near the fireplace. The small pub was a haven of sensory delights — the crackling fire casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls, the rich aroma of roasted meats mingling with the sweet scent of spiced ale, and the low hum of conversations creating a tapestry of sounds. The crowd turned their attention to The Deliverer near the priest, listening with rapt attention to his storytelling.

"So there's this farmer, right? Good ol' Tom. Tom had a cow named Daisy, but Daisy wasn't like the others; she had a hankering for apples!"

"Apples?" a kid asked, wide-eyed.

"Aye, you heard me right, kiddo. Apples! Tom would wake up each morning, go to the barn, and what'd he find? Daisy munching on apples like she was at a pub!"

Brian giggled, nudging Asdras. "Hey, ol' Raffin! How'd she get them?"

"That's the mystery, little one. No one knows. Some say she found a secret treasure. Others blamed ol' Tom for lying," Raffin sighed. "But here's the kicker: every night, Tom would hear a strange sound outside, like a low growl, and he'd find Daisy mysteriously disappearing! Now, where could she be going?"

"It's a creature of the night, I tell ya!" a farmer whispered fearfully to his friends.

"Well, seems like we've got a storyteller among us," Raffin winked at the farmer. "But don't you worry, folks, Tom has a plan! One night, he's out there, and what does he see? Daisy wandering in the dark woods, a big juicy apple right on her noggin!"

"An apple on her head?" Asdras mumbled, confused.

"That's right! But not just any apple, mind you. This one was special—it had eyes! Can you believe it?" Raffin spread his arms dramatically. "Tom thought he was losing his mind. He said, 'Daisy, what in tarnation are you doing with an apple on your head?' And you know what she did?"

"What, what?" the children urged him to continue.

"She turned and dashed at ol' Tom," Raffin raised his voice. "Now here's where it gets even wilder. That apple, folks, wasn't an apple. It was a worm! A sneaky critter that lures you in with that juicy apple, then... Well, you'll see, you become like Daisy!"

"Like a cow?" Brian asked, incredulous.

"No, idiot," Raffin grinned. "You become an aimless figure, with no thought other than wandering among the trees, searching for herbs to serve as food for the worm!"

Asdras couldn't suppress a chuckle, shaking his head.

"It's a creature of the night, like I've been sayin'!" The farmer hollered, spilling his ale over the table.

"Raffin." Joe coughed discreetly, prompting Raffin to draw a breath before gesturing for silence. He raised his hand, eyes sweeping the room, signaling something important was to be shared.

"Listen," Raffin tapped on the counter, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "The Church predicts the next Eruption may occur this solstice. The military will come and enlist the youths to go to Baurous, either joining them or the Academy."

As Asdras absorbed the news, a chilling silence swept through the room. The jovial atmosphere turned somber, and laughter abruptly faded, replaced by hushed whispers of concern. The weight of the announcement sank in as the villagers grappled with the looming shadow of war.

Asdras felt a soft hand tugging his sleeve. He looked down to see Sheepy trembling slightly, her eyes reflecting fear. Turning his head, he saw Joe looking around at everyone at once, as if searching for the right words.

Joe clasped his hands together, his voice soft but steady, "Do you understand what this means, my children? It's a difficult path, I know. But it's also a chance — a blessing, truly — to better your lives and change the fate of this village."

"I still remember," he sighed, "How the Lord worked through so many before us. Figures rose, humble and true, and their faith brought improvements — hope for a better life. Our distant neighbor, Gravious, was rewarded and transformed into a town because one soul answered the call to become a champion. Can you imagine it? Better seeds, richer soil, milk that tastes like heaven's bounty, and no more reliance on the Deliverer's pills. This is the future we must strive for."

Asdras felt the silence in the room grow heavier, suffocating every breath. He saw the women, hands trembling, set their mugs down gently, and the men pressed hard against their own hands as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. The air was thick with fear and anticipation, each villager lost in their thoughts about the unknown that lay ahead.

"Uncle Raffin, are you aiming to stop coming around these parts?" A boy interrupted the solemn air.

Raffin chuckled, addressing the young boy with a light-hearted tone. "Oh, it's you, Cabbage Boy. Yeah, I guess. The Deliverer must be replaced at each full moon. Someone else will bring the goods and news."

"Don't we have any say about sending the young ones away?" A woman asked shyly.

"You know it isn't up to us, Bettie," a man replied gravely. "If we hide, we'll lose the goods and tonics, and we won't make it till winter. That cursed fog will take the young ones if we don't go through with it."

Asdras thought, 'The fog…' He had learned about the fog stone, something the next Deliverer brings with him to replace the old. It created a lingering fog circling the village's area, preventing venomous insects from attacking the crops and livestock, while not being good against carnivorous beasts — they were rare in these lands.

Asdras saw Sheepy walking toward her mother, and he heard Joe once again attempting to improve the mood.

Joe scratched his beard, his voice growing firmer, "You've heard me speak of this every week, my friends. Yes, there is danger — but what is faith without trials? The good that can come from this will change our village forever. This isn't like the drafts of old. This time, they've promised to keep us safe, even sending an alchemist to stay with us until the Eruption passes. The Lord provides, but we must also have the courage to meet His grace halfway."

"Purty words, preacher, but we know the odds of kickin' the bucket 'fore we get hitched are plumb higher," someone shouted from the back.

As Asdras watched the priest make his way out of the tavern, motioning for Raffin to follow him, the mood among the villagers soured. People lingered at the threshold, their expressions clouded with doubt and fear, the uncertainty of the future casting long shadows over their hearts. The tavern, once a beacon of warmth and community, now felt like a cradle of anxiety, each departing step echoing the silent prayers for hope amidst despair.

"Hey," Brian poked Asdras with his elbow, raising his finger toward the ceiling. "Up?"