FanFic

"Sun Ja-nim, I'll just leave the report and the tea you asked for on the table...."
"Mr. Kim? Trying to run away again?"
"Ah, erm, it's just that I have something urgent..."
"Something more urgent than your su-per-vi-sor?"
"Ahhhahaha, you're a little close for comfort... ma'am."
"... Am I so undesirable?"
"N-no, that's really, ah, not what I meant. This is the, erm, workplace and--"
"Haha, Mr. Kim, it's always [i]such[/i] a delight to tease you."
"Why I never--! Park Sun Ja-nim!"
"Anyways, Mr. Kim, the report. From your lips."
"... All inmates stable. The changes you ordered have balanced their bodily conditions."
"As expected."
"In addition, several have joined guilds. All but three have made job changes."
"Hm. And the levels of those three are?"
"Well below the average."
"Arrange reports detailing prospective professions for them and bring it to me within the hour."
"Yes, Sun Ja-nim."
--

They returned to Granheim, the boy skipping, the woman limping, and the wolf looking thoroughly bored. It was getting dark, but Halton was still stumping about by the gates.

“You’re back! Did you get the furs?”

Jay held them up proudly. “Hi grandpa! We got them!”

Halton broke into a grin and bent to take the skins, palming ten coppers to Jay. “Thank you, young Jay. Looks like you went through a lot to get them for me.” He eyed Crow’s leg, which had already healed quite a bit but still wasn’t a pretty sight. “Shall we go to dinner then? I’m starved!”

Jay laughed and pulled Crow forward. Halton led them through the city, chatting amiably. Although he’d seemed a bit crusty and grumpy when they had first met, he had opened up to Jay. After almost half an hour of walking, Crow realized that Halton had brought them close to the southern gates.

“The western gates get more traffic from adventurers, but we live next to the southern gates." Halton smiled broadly as he gestured outward. “It’s not much, but welcome to Southeim.”

Southeim was an impressive collection of makeshift wooden shacks and winding alleys not far from the gates. An architectural horror that was considered one curiosity of Granheim, Crow had heard of their existence. The southern residential slums were filled with people from all walks of life and boasted a thriving black market. It was also a veritable nest of theives and rogues. She had never dared to set foot in such perilous grounds. Her grasp on Jay grew tighter as the boy took it all in with a look of wonder.

Halton ferried them through the jumbled roads as people clothed in dingy rags skittered aside to let them pass. "My son is one of the Southeim leaders," he mentioned with a wink, "So none of these black-hearted fellas will dare set a finger on you."

'What a relief,' Crow thought dryly. To think that this was Halton's home!

They made their way to a house that clearly defined the elevated position of Halton's family. It was bigger than the others, but its most distinguishing feature was that it was made of brick. A small boy was playing outside with his dog, which yelped comically at the whiff of Brutus and scurried away with its tail tucked. The boy cried with dismay as the dog fled, but his eyes widened in three parts awe and one part horror at the perfectly aloof wolf.

Halton strode forward to tousle the boy's straw hair. "Martin, run along and tell granny that we've got guests." Martin nodded dumbly and scrambled inside.

"Well, here we are," Halton announced with a grand sweep of his arm. "What dya think?"

"It's great, grandpa," Jay burbled ecstastically. "That was Martin, right?"

"It was indeed, youngun," Halton said smilingly as he opened the door for their passage in.

Stepping in was like entering a whole new world from the one outside. Far from cluttered and dirty, the home was well kept and tidy. The furnishings were sparse and the floor was still made of packed dirt, but it was a home clearly cared for with love. Smells of cooking drifted in from what was probably the kitchen.

An elegantly aged woman strode out briskly, wiping one hand on a stained apron as she held a ladle with the other. It was clear that she had once been quite the beauty in her younger years. Even now, she had aged gracefully. Halton dumped the load of wolf skins on the ground and opened his arms for hug, only to be warded away with the brandishing of the ladle. "You old man, introduce our guests first," the woman scolded crisply.

Halton laughed sheepishly. "Yes, yes. This fine lady is named Crow, and the laddy is Jay. They brought us the wolf skins for the coats."

The woman gazed at Jay's gaunt cheeks and too thin frame for a thoughtful moment. Then she straightened and held out her hand, smiling. "Be welcome to our humble home," she said. "My name is Maria. I'm this old man's wife."

Crow nodded as Jay chattered a greeting, his eyes dancing. Two children, presumably the promised Anna and Martin, skipped out of the kitchen to stare at Jay curiously. Jay looked up at Crow with an unspoken question in his eyes, and when she nodded, he tumbled over to them eagerly.

Crow followed Maria and Halton to the kitchen, where she met the daughter-in-law, Rachel, who greeted them while busily stirring a pot of stew. Though she lacked Maria's beauty, Rachel was straightforward and kind.

Crow tried to help with the dinner preparations, but she found herself carted forcefully to a chair and told to stay put.

By the time dinner was ready, Jay was fast friends with his new playmates. The three kids were dragged to the table as stew was doled out and bread, glorious bread, was sliced by a chattering Halton.

Crow busied herself with claiming every single crumb. Dinner was a hearty affair, and if anyone was unnerved by Crow's silence and bread obsession, it didn't show.

Their bellies full, night fell gently upon them in the makeshift village. Crow moved automatically to clear the table. Rachel started with a noise of surprise and rose to take the dishes from Crow's hands.

"You're our guest, please, be seated," she said, smiling.

Crow returned stiffly to her seat. It was strange, it occurred to her, to not be in Helen's cluttered kitchen, and in this warm, lively house. Perhaps too warm, too lively. The children leaped away from the table with vitality sparkling in their faces, already crafting their next adventure. Jay was with them, his eyes alight with pure joy at this unexpected, yet much dreamed of, hope.

But it hurt. The warmth and liveliness of this little home, it hurt. Somewhere deep and bruised within her panged. With longing, and jealous resentment, and long, long forgotten dreams.

Jay laughed, struggling to catch up with his newfound playmates as they galloped around as knights. Maria shouted at them to be still and start getting ready for bed. The stately old woman approached Crow after making sure the children had begun their preparations.

"Crow," she began earnestly, "I know we're still just strangers to one another, but it would please us greatly if we could offer you a place to sleep for the night. It is dark, and Granheim is not the safest place to be wandering about in with a child. We don't have much; just the storage room, but it's plenty of space for such skinny slips like you two."

Jay had crept up on them as Maria had continued her offer. The expression on his face deemed that there was no decision to be made. It was just as well-- she had been wondering if she and Jay were meant to spend the night outside.

Crow nodded. "Thank you," she uttered, with her rarely used, husky voice. "If you will have us, we will stay."

Maria clapped her hands together. "It's settled, then. I'll show you to the room and have Rachel bring some blankets for you. Your, ah, dog will have to sleep outside, I'm afraid." Maria moved away with matronly grace to bring them to a small partition of the house, their quarters for the night. It was truly no more than a roofed dirt floor rimmed by a few shelves, but it would do. Crow doubted that the rest of the family slept in better conditions. There was even a rickety door that opened conveniently to the path going to the outhouse, making for a rather smelly situation, but neither Jay or Crow complained. Rachel brought in two blankets for them, and Crow got Jay settled.

When all was quiet, and the two of them alone with Brutus lying right outside, Jay sighed with contentment and spoke in muted tones. "Today was really, really fun, noona." He settled deeper into the blanket. "I made friends... Anna and Martin..." He was mumbling their names as he fell asleep.

Crow let her gaze rest on him for a long moment, and then she pulled out some leather. She had brought some in case she had to make quick repairs, but she found a new use for them. With the ease of long practice, she began to craft a child-sized shoe. It was hard work in the dark, but she was used to working in dimness, and her hands moved deft and sure. As she sewed and cut the pieces, she thought of how she had come to meet this small, fragile child, this entirely lovable boy who had [i]changed[/i] her. He scared her, but it was a fear wrought of love. Yes, he had taught her how to love again, and had shown her that it was okay to do so.

Several strokes of sewing later, she realized that this was the best shoe she had ever crafted. It was made of normal quality leather, but the shape was just right, and the seams were pinched with a consistency that was hard to achieve by hand. The size... there was no doubt that this shoe was made for a certain boy, and a certain boy alone. Each curve in the miniature shoe echoed its counterpart in Jay's little foot.

With a sudden impulse, Crow pulled out a finer needle and embroidered a small silver jaybird on the top of the shoe. A little bird, in flight and beautiful, uncaged and free, free, free.

She was well along the other shoe when Jay stirred, then shook with a convulsion that Crow felt through her own bones. He cried out once, a strangled gurgle of pain, and coughed, a harsh, undesired sound in the silent calm of the house around them. Crow was at his side at once, cradling his head as he gasped and coughed again, this time expelling something sticky and horrible. Uncontrollable shaking seized his little frame as he coughed again, and again.

"No, no, no," Crow whispered, her horror drowned in a sea of Jay's mindless agony. Brutus whined outside, but she heard nothing but the gasps of the boy she held. "Nononono."

Tea, a tea, she should make the tea-- she started moving, an alarming trembling in her limbs. She managed to reach her rucksack, where the perfect shoe and its unfinished pair lay on top like a little broken promise, when the most pitiful sound in the world broke her, reduced her to ashes.

"Mommy..."

She threw the shoes into the sack, flung the bag over her shoulder, and scooped Jay up with a frenzied haste. Stumbling outside, where Brutus weaved around her anxiously, she ran out of Southeim. Stones dug into her bare feet, but she felt nothing, only the racking, bloody coughs. There was a screaming in her mind that filled her to breaking point, a crescendo of anguish that strove to deny reality.

Only one day! One day! Why? Why? How could life be so cruel to such a small boy, so denying, and death so desperate to have him in its thrall so soon?

The shaking woman crashed blindly though the tangled streets of the Granheim. She chased a surging, panting black form that seemed know where it was going. Jay's coughs began to subside, morphing into wet huffs that grew weaker by the second. Time stetched impossibly as Jay's chest struggled to rise and an unending river of blood seeped from his mouth, each ruby drop exploding and disippating into the air as a thousand crimson sparkles as they fell from his face...

An abandoned, dirty street was the sole witness as the boy shuddered and stilled, and the girl fell to her knees, and the wolfdog howled to the new moon.

A dry sob tornadoed through her, ripping her apart until she felt like nothing could sew her back together again. The boy in her arms grew cold, and faded, even as she clutched for him, and pawed at the air where he had been, and fell gasping to the ground where he was not.

He was gone. Jay was gone.

She'd known this was to be. She'd known it from the very first day they had met, the shy sickly boy hiding behind his mother and the disoriented, reclusive girl. His impending death had been whispered into her ear a thousand times as she listened to the ragged breaths rattle his too thin frame in bed. And even when he had been momentarily well, his dazzling smile and laughter had not been without a tinge of sadness and desperacy.

"Why?" It was no more than a strangled cry, a small, raw sound of pain.

Jay, Jay, Jay.

A peculiarly cheerful jingle jarred her from her bleary daze. An information window opened before her.

Helen... and Jorgen... what did she have left of Jay to bring to them? How could she face them, even though they too had known this was to be?

With trembling hands, she took out the shoes she had begun, cradling them. Shaking, she found the needle and sewed, stabbing herself with fumbling fingers as pinpoints of her blood blossomed on the leather.

One stitch.

Jay.

Two stitches.

Jay.

Three, and then the floodgates parted, and she wept, her unspent tears soaking the little leather shoes.

She cried for a long time. When the tears ceased, the shoes were done. The second was a crude joke in comparison to the perfect first, and stained with tears, blood, and grief. She knelt on the bare ground, her black hair wreathing her wretched face, as she clutched the shoes and mourned.

Another jingle accompanied a second message window.

Crow squinted at the text with blurry eyes, barely registering the meaning behind the shining white words. What? Jay's... Jay's spirit? Lived on? What?

An agonizingly painful hope flared in her cold breast. How was this possible? If she became a Spirit Weaver, would she be able to see Jay again?

She held one shoe in each hand, knowing in her bones that these were infinitely precious. Jay...

"Yes," she croaked. "Yes, yes, yes."

It was only a desperate hope, but she would take any chances for Jay. For him, and for her.

Crow stared blankly at the windows of text that flooded the darkness before her. She could barely read it, let alone understand it all. She did glean that all was not left to despair, she had not lost Jay. Not completely. His ill-used body was gone, but the shoes she still held were warm with feeling, and a laughter she could hear only with her heart rang from the little pair. Jay's laughter. Jay's spirit.

Perhaps she did have something to bring Helen and Jorgen after all. She knew she should be elated, but she was just weary and sick at heart. Jay's spirit it may be, but he was still dead, and nothing could change that. She would think about and explore her new skills, particularly Spirit Dancing, later. Crow stumbled to her feet. How long had she knelt here? The edges of daylight were tinging the sky, heralding the dawn. There was no Brutus in sight. He had likely run off to his true master with the quest's end.

She checked her location and treaded the familiar, quiet path to Merchant Way, using the silence to regain her composure. Someone had granted her wish to keep Jay somehow by her side, and now she was a Spirit Weaver. She did not know what it meant for Jay, herself, or her future. Where did Spirit Weaving lie in her simple life as assistant Tailor to Helen Graystone? If, of course, she was to remain so. Perhaps she would no longer be welcome there with Jay's death. It was hard to imagine being cut loose into the city. Could she survive some other way in the city? She knew some furtive paths in the city and a few of its people, but Granheim was filled with adventurers too, other players like herself who kept the city bustling at night in the busier districts.

Crow was far more comfortable with those who were not players, and even that was strained. She couldn't see herself mingling with the people who bore all sorts of weapons and wore all manners of garb, who gathered in the city of Granheim and its outskirts to hunt, trade, and quest. She could not help but feel a small twinge of curiousity towards that free and drifting lifestyle, going wherever one dared, to pursue whatever pleasures and adventures they cared to have...

With a sigh she pushed those frightening new thoughts away. She was no adventurer, as her last and only scuffle with monsters had clearly shown. She was only a coward, and only her last duty to the Graystones gave her the courage to bring them knews of their only son's passing.

With silent footsteps she approached the shop. When she was only a few steps away, she could feel that something was wrong. Other people, some players and some NPCs, were walking past the shop without a glance, but they were strangers to the building that had been Crow's home for a month. There was a faint shimmering around the shop, one that was barely noticeable unless you were really looking. She dared not waltz in through the front. The weariness in her bones exchanged with wariness instead, she crept along to the back, where she clambered swiftly up a fire escape and let herself in through a window she knew would be open.

As soon as she stepped inside Jay's room, the shouting and growling assailed her. "Change, Lycan! Several have seen you and know you for what you are. Monster and thief!"

What was going on? Quickly she moved for the door, but forst she unsheathed the sword hanging at her waist. There were unfamiliar voices downstairs, and she would protect rather than lose more who were dear to her.

The sword hilt in her hands, she ran soundlessly through the hall and down the stairs, and almost screamed. Then rage that she had never even dreamed of filled her veins like a blazing fire. She flung herself at a man in soldier livery, her sword cleaving the unwary man's back. He stumbled and fell limply to the ground, a dimming staff clattering from his hands.

Weeks of dedicated dusting, wiping, and careful attention, all put to waste by strangers with bloodied swords. Tables and racks lay overturned, the wares once displayed on them cast carelessly to the ground and trampled. Brutus was a viviously growling heap quivering with rage against one wall, vines of magic holding him down. Jorgen was much the same at another wall, though his sides gushed with blood and his fists were clenched till his palms bled.

Cries of alarm rang too late as Brutus shook the last of the restraining magic off him and leapt for a man's throat. Jorgen, his sides bleeding from a number of gashes, lurched towards another, hatred and death in his feverish eyes. At last claws grew from his overlarge hands, teeth lengthened and sharpened. The man Crow had spotted beating Jorgen fell with a gurgle as the wolfman ripped him apart.

Three men in livery had stood in the little store amongst toppled stands of trampled clothes. Now there were none, only a battered Jorgen and slavering Brutus.

As Crow rushed forward, Jorgen tumbled to his knees. "Gone," the big man whispered, as claws and teeth retracted. "Gone, gone."

Crow shook Jorgen as he trembled with sobs. "Where is Helen? Tell me!" She cried sharply, too confused to coddle this grief-stricken man.

Jorgen looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Crow... she... they took her..." With haunted eyes, he said, "I couldn't protect her either! Damn it!" Just as suddenly as he had fallen, he sprang up in rage, only to topple bewildered again, his sides heaving.

"You're in no condition to move," she spoke urgently, fighting down panic. "Listen to me. What happened here?"

A shudder ran through Jorgen, and he ran a hand over his bloody face as Brutus whined anxiously nearby. "The Heart of Innocence I took some nights ago... this is the price. I stole from the house of Westerling, one of the greatest powers in Granheim. To pull it off, I had to take wolf form... fool was I, to think that no one saw--!"

With sudden rage he struck the floor with both fists, sending splinters flying. "But to kill Helen, my Helen!" He turned away from Crow as cold horror gripped her.

"What?"

Jorgen sagged to the floor, spent. "You killed their mage, who was masking the house. People outside will alert authorities, and Westerling will send more soon when they realize their soldiers are not returning. A full squad of ten, ordered to take me back alive... we took out most of them. I... have done a great wrong to you, to put you and Helen in such danger. I thought I was being careful, but it seems the many years of quiet have dulled my caution. I could not be a good father after all..." He wrenched his head up and gripped Crow with bone-breaking strength. "What of my son? What of Jay?"

Numbly, Crow pulled out the shoes and passed them to the dying man. Jorgen clutched them. "Aahh," he breathed, and fell silent as tears fell. "We were right, to entrust him to you. Perhaps it is the one thing I have done right as a father." And, looking into Crow's eyes at last, "Thank you."

There was no telling if Jorgen was able to sense the spirit inside, but he seemed to know they were no ordinary shoes. The burly man slumped, his face gray, as his life seeped away from him. Then he gripped her arm again with the urgency of a dying man. "I've put us all in jeopardy. The palace and the greatest of the Granheim houses likely know of the existence of Lycanthropes now," he choked out, his eyes fever bright. "Will you listen to this foolish man's last selfish request?"

Crow nodded dumbly, although his iron grip was hurting her.

"Someone has to warn the Brotherhood. Humans have hunted our kind for lesser crimes than mine. They currently dwell in the Saigorn mountain range not far from here-- too close to Granheim's borders. You have proven yourself to be like family to us. Go to them with my blessing, and warn them of the danger!"

As far as Crow could tell, it was a reasonable request. Such a quest would give her precious direction in a time where everything was spinning madly out of control, all at once.

"I will do it, Jorgen," she murmured, putting a hand on his trembling arm.

Jorgen's clutch on her weakened as he sighed, the life leaving his broken body. Brutus howled, a sound to break the coldest of hearts. He pawed and nosed his master frantically as Jorgen faded into oblivion.

It really struck Crow then. She could not stay here. They were all dead, Jay and Helen and Jorgen. It was, it was probably too late for Helen, but seeing Brutus in such a frenzy, she had to try. Jorgen was not a bad man; whatever luck there was in the world had not been kind to him. She had liked him for his gruffness, his open bellied laughs, his halting tenderness for his boy. That was all before Jay's illness had worsened, but still. He had saved her life in the forest, on a moonless night that seemed like ages ago.

But there was no time-- more men of Westerling would soon be here. With frantic haste she grabbed material from the floor and thread and needle from her bag, and sewed the first thing that came to mind.

It wasn’t shoes she made. When she was done, she held the most enormous and ugly mens undergarment that she had ever had the misfortune to see.

Grimly satisfied and more than a little surprised, Crow creaked to her feet. Too much was happening too quickly, but an impending sense of doom warned her that trouble was coming. She gathered what little belongings she had, stopping to add a few ingredients from the kitchen to her rucksack, and grabbed random bundles of cloth. No one would miss them. And then she was up the stairs, through the hall, and down by the fire escape, thinking no more of what had happened. She left the forlorn, bereft little house, where the Graystones lived no longer. Close behind padded a wolfdog who seemed to see only her, and in her sack lay the spirits of Jorgen and Jay. The girl and her black shadow disappeared into the dawn, swallowed by the city, and were gone.

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1. Lei

   August 23rd, 2014 at 10:57:08 PM

   I finally uploaded this chapter on Japtem (it’s been up on Royalroad for 2 months, but I was too lazy to change the coding). The first chapter of the next volume is actually well underway, so I hope to have that one up soon. For those of you who are reading Rising despite my, ah, negligence, thanks. I’m a horrible fanfic author, but I hope you’ve enjoyed!

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