A New Life

by Payton Cavallo

  There was an assortment of stalls as well, making a small bazaar where people were buying fresh fruits and vegetables, lending the small town of Athsbane the air of a small farming community. Instead of the frilly and decadent clothes of the nobility, the people here were wearing clothes that were more befitting of a commoner, less robes and more of the typical shirts and pants.

  Commoners like me, the treacherous thought whispered into her mind. However, any time to think on those thoughts were quickly stolen from her as a woman, in her late twenties if Aethel was correct, walked up to her. The black dress she wore was rather gaudy, even by noble standards, frills adorning its spectacular silk, making Aethel’s simple green dress covered in stitches from years of wear and tear, along with her small hat, seem worthless in comparison. White gloves covering her hands, and it was finished off with a large black felt hat draped across the top of her head, almost completely covering her short pitch-black hair that stood in stark contrast to her pale skin.

  She was a noble if Aethel ever saw one.

  “You are Mrs. Proudhill, the woman who contacted me?” The woman asked with an air of pretentiousness in her voice, “I am Mrs. Ailbe Alcott, Ruling Lady of the Alcott family, Baron of Athsbane, and a licensed Alchemist Mistress.” She extended a silk glove covered hand, her gloves probably costing more than Aethel’s entire outfit. “And might I say it is quite good to see you and your son.”

  “It is good to see you too madam.” Aethel replied, dressed in her best clothes as well, or at least, the best she could afford at the moment along with a hint of makeup on her face to hide the bruise on her cheek. Long pale green robes, covered in stitches from their used status, covered most of her body, pockets adorning its massive length so that she could fit all her little trinkets inside. Craeft was little better, wearing pale grey shorts and a collared shirt to hide the marks around his neck. “I must admit, it is a big change from the big city.”

  “Well I hope that it isn’t’ too big a change.” Mrs. Alcott said with a smile, “Our last rune crafter, an older man by the name of Todd Lane died a few months ago. Eaten by a werewolf unfortunately.”

  Aethel gulped, her mouth quickly drying at the thought of such a vicious beast. They were rare, incredibly so after the military came and ran several purge operations, but as long as one was alive, there would always be more, like an unkillable virus. “One of those beasts? Here?” Her voice was like a whisper, but despite the hustle and bustle around them, the noble picked it up.

  “Yes, and unfortunately, the man the beast killed also owed me some money, so his death really put a hamper in my purse. His daughter has already agreed to pay me back in implements, so I’m not too worried. However, I am down one rune crafter and despite your new status as a crafter, at least compared to Lane’s forty years of experience, I need someone who can pick up where he left off.”

  “So, I’m going to be your craftsmen and do some side jobs for you?” That sounded incredibly sketchy. She would have to watch out for any requests this woman gave her, lest she wind up behind bars. “This wouldn’t be anything illegal would it?”

  A small chuckle left the woman’s mouth. “No, no. I’ve already got some of the best wards in Britain and I am squeaky clean so you won’t be taking a trip down to the prison anytime soon.” Aethel kept in the scoff that threatened to escape her lips. “You got your house for so cheap, a mere couple thousand bronze crowns, because I will be skimming a little of the top of your profits. At least enough till you pay off the rest of the house. Now come, let us go see your new home.”

  She whistled and an automaton car drove up, its pitch-black frame elongated to allow multiple people inside. The artificial construct let out a series of beeps before the door opened and the three stepped in, the car letting out another series of beeps before it spewed crys-fuel as it drove towards their destination.

  Silence permeated the air for a few brief moments, before the honey toned voice of Ms. Alcott filled the luxurious interior. “So, why have you both come here with those injuries? I find myself curious that you both couldn’t simply stop by a potioneer and grab some Bruise-Be-Gone Balm.”

  “Ah,” Aethel was surprised that the woman could see through her attempts to cover up her injuries. Though, she did figure that she was an alchemist, and was used to working with flesh so she must have had some knowledge of the signs of injuries. “We were quick to move out of our home due to…unfortunate circumstances and we couldn’t afford any medicines.”

  “I see.” The noblewoman said. The amulet glove on her right hand, a gawdy golden thing with a bright white jewel on the top, glowed for an instant as she raised her hand up and cast a spell on the two. “Cicasana.” Aethel’s eyes widened as her bruises disappeared, as did Craeft as he felt his neck. The pain was still there, but the purple bruises were gone!

  “I’ve learned quite a few medical spells from my time as an alchemist. That should get rid of the blemishes, but it won’t fully heal you like the balm would.”

  “Thank you.” Aethel replied, genuinely thankful for the help. Perhaps this noble wouldn’t be so bad?

  “You are most welcome.”

  An awkward silence once again settled onto the interior of the car, before she spoke up once again.

  “Your son is quite cute. Does he have a name?”

  “My name is Craeft.” The boy replied, puffing his chest out. He seemed to be far more comfortable around the noblewoman than before, seeming to take her act of kindness as a way of differentiating her from the monster that was Marissa.

  Aethel shushed him, slightly embarrassed by his actions, but it didn’t stop the look of amusement in the noble’s eyes.

  “Ah, means strength in the Old Tongue of the northern Asceans, like your name means Noble. Figures the Proudhills would’ve named their descendants like that. Kind of ironic with how you turned out though.”

  Aethel’s fist tightened at the condescending tone the woman gave her. “I’d appreciate if you kept such thoughts to yourself.”

  “My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was simply pointing out how it was perfectly ironic for your name to be like that, yet you aren’t a noble any longer.” Mrs. Alcott breathed deeply, as if enjoying some strange incense only she could smell. “But the Proudhills are a nice old family. Plenty of wealth to go around, and always stuck on the fanciest new gadget due to their inventions.” She tilted her head towards Aethel. “The perfect sort of noble. Speaking of perfection, do you believe in perfection Mrs. Proudhill?”

  “In the rune business, I can’t really afford not to. One little mistake and the sigil rune could detonate the wardstone and pepper me with deadly bits of rock. But I don’t regret learning about it and making it my career. The ability to shape things with my own hands, make something that’s truly mine. I guess perfection really is the word for it.” She looked down at her child. “Just like I made him.”

  “Yes, perfection really is in the eye of the beholder. While you work with rock and stone, I work with materials and the flesh and chemicals. Like with how your work is dangerous, one small move could create something incredibly dangerous, but the sensation from seeing the perfect creation. I have to admit, there is no other feeling like it, though I do feel there is always room for improvement.”

  Aethel sent her a questioning look, and Ailbe looked a little delighted to answer. She would have made a fine teacher, in Aethel’s eyes.

  “Many come to me seeking alterations to their bodies, unsatisfied by what Miion gave them when they were born. Perfectly smooth skin, different colored eyes, hair, or anything that a normal bio healer would refuse to do. Not the illegal sort of course, creating new life forms or adding to the human body, but things people want to change about themselves. It’s quite sad really, that people would settle for minor changes when they could be so much more, but I don’t want the government coming after me for illegal experimentation.”

  Bright blue eyes stared into the country-side. “Like how I man
aged to defeat my family’s curse and have a child. It took quite the coordinated effort on my part to scrounge up the ingredients but I believe it was worth it in the end.”

  “Ah, I’m glad you managed to defeat that curse. I had heard from some of the newspapers back in Rubrary about that nasty spat that left most of the family either barren or dead. A tragedy for a noble bloodline like yours to go through.”

  “That was nothing but a bunch of media journalists trying to stir up trouble. It’s true of course, but they should have shut their mouths and kept their noses out of my business, especially after what I had just gone through. Though I must admit, seeing their faces when the judge forced them to pay me all those crowns was almost worth it leaking out.” She pressed her elbow against the glass window of the car, the side of her head in the palm of her hand. “Still, I managed to have a daughter. My little miracle, you know.”

  “Yeah.” Aethel’s tanned hands ran through her son’s hair, Craeft snuggling closer to his mother’s side. “You have any other relatives?”

  “No. Well, actually, I do have one. Mr. Leas Evans. The relation is distant, but he’s a fellow noble from around here, and a good hunter. I’ve set him on the werewolf case because he’s both a good hunter, and far more powerful than I am. Magically, I mean. I hold far more of the political and monetary power due to being the heiress and current head of the family." She took a sip of her tea. "Not that the Ascean Empire could care.” She sighed as she took a sip of her tea. “Sorry about my ramblings. It’s just difficult dealing with politics.”

  “Believe me, I know.” Aethel grumbled out. “When I was nine my father took me to all sorts of balls and plays to try and get me interested in dancing and meeting up with young male heirs.” She stuck her tongue out in distaste. “They were just as repulsive as adults as they were as children. A bunch of wimps the lot of them.”

  “On that we can agree on.” Mrs. Alcott said, a smile sliding across her face. The two began to reminisce on their experiences with the nobility when they were younger, and the interior was filled with laughter as the two reminisced on childhood memories, the two having not noticed that their journey was coming to an end. Craeft did though. The child was eager to get out of the small carriage with the two women, as he didn’t understand much of the high society things they were speaking of.

  A mechanical beep signaled the end of the car ride, and the three stepped out of it. They were greeted with the sight of a small single-story home, a chimney sticking out of the brick building, with two windows on the front. Aethel turned, catching the keys that the woman tossed towards her, the metal landing with a ‘clink’ in her hands.

  “Perhaps we could catch up some time, have some tea down at the mansion? You’re one of the few noble descendants around and it’s always nice to have company that understands what I’m speaking of.”

  The blonde mulled the thought over, but the decision was obvious in her mind. It would be best not to deny her and insult the person that owned her home, and so she nodded. A smile spread across the woman’s face, and with a quick goodbye, she departed, the sound of the crys-fuel engine producing its steam-like vapors getting further and further away.

  Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was keeping in, Aethel relaxed. Without having to worry about infuriating someone who could have beat her to death with her wallet, she felt like a weight had been taken off her shoulders.

  She walked towards the oak door with Craeft in tow, it’s invitation inside like a Siren’s call. Opening the door, she flipped the switch to her right and white flames came to life in the bulbs above her, showering their light down and revealing the barren home. A few cobwebs stood out in the corners, and she could hear the old wood creak as she stepped inside.

  It may have not been the store where she worked hard to give her son a better life, but the sheer amount of warmth she felt from the place made it perfect in her eyes.

  Aethel’s eyes were alighted with delight as she quickly got to work sprucing up the house with her items, setting up the front for her shop. Trinkets of all shapes and sizes, crafted by her own hands and made of metal and stone adorned the walls of her store. As was the rest of her home, the woman feeling rather pleased with herself as she finally set up her simple bedroom, along with filling Craeft’s room with his meager belongings.

  While Craeft slept in his small bed, the young boy tired after a long day, she went outside, and pulled a hefty block out of her suitcase, runes covering its sides and magic glowing inside it. Dirt was moved as she used magic to dig the hole, the runestone sliding into place as it’s wards reactivated. The watery feeling slid over her, like a nasty oily hug. It was a lovely embrace for the woman as the defenses were activated.

  Finally, the place felt like home to her. The previous worries and troubles were washed away as she slipped into her bed and slowly slipped away.

  Day turned to night and back to day as the new morning came. While Craeft played in the backyard and Aethel set up her store, the blonde was surprised as she heard someone knocking at her door. She slowly opened the door, her amulet glove in hand. “Who is it?”

  “You open yet?” The man looked at her through the crack in the door.

  Aethel played with the thought of saying no, but it was only a few more minutes till she would have opened and, being that she needed money, she decided to drop that line of thought. “Yes, come in.” The man stepped into her home, his eyes widening at the assortment of items she had on the wall. He was of average height, with a slight beard of red hair and short hair atop his head that matched it. He wore a white button up shirt and brown overalls. “So, welcome to The Runic Emporium. Anything specific you’re looking for?”

  “Anti-vermin wards, and maybe some anti-werewolf ones if you got them.” Aethel’s eyes were calm as she heard the last part, which caught the man’s attention. “I s’pose you heard about the werewolf running around here. Most people try and move away when they hear about that part.”

  “I don’t blame them. Getting torn apart by a ferocious beast doesn’t seem like a very good time.” A small chuckle left the man’s lips.

  “S’pose not. Now if you’re lookin’ for a good time you should head on down to the Green Hag Tavern down in Athsbane.” The man said.

  “I do have a son to take care of y’know.” The tone was playful, but the way she said them left no room for discourse. That didn’t stop him though.

  “Eh, bring him along. My mom did that with me, and I still love the taste of whiskey.” The blonde shuddered internally at the thought. “The name is Gawain Welter by the way, and the man behind me-“He held his arm out, his hand grasping for the man that wasn’t there. “Rayan! Get in here!”

  “Coming father.” The voice yelled back, revealing a short red-haired man, in his early twenties if Aethel guessed correctly. Red locks grew down to the side of his head, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. A metal plate adorned his chest, the sun-like symbol of the Ascean Empire plastered onto it, the rest of his clothes in the similar red colored battle dress uniform. “Ah, it seems you found yourself a new woman to annoy.”

  “Pshh, yeah right squirt. Just keeping her company is all. Besides, by the way her eyes light up when I walked into the room, she must have fallen in love with me. Not that I can blame her though.” He ran his hands through his hair as Aethel rolled her eyes, the older man letting a small smile spread across his lips. Judging by his son’s expression, Rayan did not believe him one bit.

  “Sure.” He turned towards the tall blonde woman. “I apologize for my father. He’s rather flirtatious and doesn’t know how to hold his tongue around beautiful women.”

  “Oh, beautiful woman am I?” Rayan’s face turned red. “I’ll have to let you know that you can’t pay me with complements, even if you are rather handsome yourself.”

  “I-I’ll keep that in mind ma’am.” He replied, trying to keep himself from stuttering.

  Aethel let out a small giggle, the young man wanting
to run away and hide from this embarrassment. “You better. I can hold Crowns in my hand, but I can’t pay the bills with sweet words. Well actually, you are shorter than me. Perhaps I can pick you up and carry you around in my hands. Have my own pocket boyfriend.”

  “I’m not that short ma’am. I’m almost six foot.” He puffed up his chest. “We can’t all be born with giant’s blood in our veins.”

  “It’s not that big of a difference.” She replied, a hint of hilarity in her voice. She was enjoying flirting with the man far more than she imagined. “I’ve just got some of that Ornok blood in me. My father used to tell me that the Proudhills laid with them long ago, but I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear those kinds of stories.”

  “Proudhill? As in the nobles?” Gawain’s eyebrows were raised. “What in Miion’s name are you doing out here? Not to say anything bad about Athsbane, but it isn’t exactly the most bustling of towns.”

  “Situations required me to move here.” Her eyes peeked towards her child through the window, Craeft playing with a small wooden sword in the backyard. Gawain’s eyes followed hers and widened slightly as he spotted the young lad. “My departure from my family is not exactly a happy one.”

  “I see. So, the child…”

  “Is mine alone.” A hint of regret tinged Aethel’s voice. Her love life hadn’t exactly been what one would call, good.

  “Well, it’s certainly strange, but nothing I ain’t heard of before. Sometimes the pressure gets too much and you’ll hear a story about one of the children running away.” He shrugged. “I can’t blame them.”

  “No, you can’t.” Her voice was rather sullen. “but enough about that. Now about those wards, I can make you some anti-vermin wards, but the werewolf one is beyond my expertise.” She noted how crestfallen Rayan had looked at that.

  “Well, it looks like we’re going to have to use that Caster of yours to shoot it up. Maybe set up some traps.” Gawain sighed. “Great.”