RFC-Miniarc-An Average Day-4 (Nomad)

Nomad roamed the manor, a silent witness as its residents retired. Bedtime meant something different for everyone. For Gajin, it meant willfully falling into the embrace of nature under the effect of dubious “medicine”.

For Earl, it meant a final sweep of the house before returning to his room. For Anna, the young girl would originally curl up under her covers but, for all the progress she’d made, she had yet to conquer the fear of being without her brother, and always traversed the hall in the middle of the night to curl up beside him.

For the mistresses of the house, bedtime did not mean sleep. More nights than not, retiring to their room was just the beginning. Despite the insulation of their bedroom, he heard their going-ons for several hours into the night. Sometimes into the morning.

Once the house became quiet and the last candles were snuffed out, Nomad did his next patrol. This was restricted to the gardens, faintly illuminated by the strange plants imported by his elven mistress. No point in walking the road with the low visibility.

It was normally a quiet duty but on rare occasions, he encountered visitors. Not the reckless trespassers seeking natural riches that didn’t belong to them, they weren’t reckless enough to navigate the garden in the dark.

Nor the overzealous men and women who thought it was their saints blessed right to form a friendship with the interesting foreigner. While they could set aside some of their morals in pursuit of personal satisfaction, showing up at someone’s door in the middle of the night unwanted was going too far for just about all of them. There were always exceptions but Nomad hadn’t had to deal with one since the beginning of fall. The cold seemed to deter the crazies.

No, he kept his eyes out for special guests. One in particular, who had permission to return every other month.

If it were anyone else, the sight of a tall stranger dressed head to toe in black clothes that covered everything but their eyes leaning against a wagon suddenly appearing in the middle of the night would be unnerving. Nomad was beyond such things. Once he recognized the stranger wasn’t a threat, but a welcomed guest, he simply accepted it.

As usual, the visitor and his wagon rested against a sun fan flower, the man leaning against the tall stalk with his legs crossed. He whistled a beautiful song, a hauntingly melodic tune that brought life to the quiet night. Nomad felt the faintest twinge of longing once the music stopped, the man straightening as he spotted him.

“Hey, there,” the man said with the voice of a bard. “How you feeling, friend?”

Nomad bowed at the waist. “Greetings.”

“Haha, I’ve told you not to bother with this kingdom’s formalities!” He stepped forward and clapped Nomad on the shoulder. “Come on. I’ve got the usuals.”

He moved back to his wagon. Attached to the front was a thin wooden pole that a small lantern hung from, a cylindrical glass held together by wrought iron. He opened the lantern, fire sprouting from the tip of his finger, and lit the wick inside.

A warm glow lit the wagon and the immediate surroundings, revealing multiple crates, bags, and boxes. The man climbed inside and set down several sacks, filled to the brim and tied off with string. If Nomad was the type to emote, he would have recoiled from the stench the bags gave off.

“Fertilizer brought straight from Twilight Province, five sacks, as requested.”

“Confirmed, five.”

Next to be lowered were two crates that he handled with extreme care, the contents rattling as they clinked against one another. “One crate of Red Dusk wine, one crate of Wilky’s Violent Delights.”

“Confirmed.”

“…between you and me, we should destroy that stuff before Green Thumbs gets her hands on it. It won’t turn out good.”

Nomad agreed. From what Kierra told him, Violent Delights was one of the few liquors powerful enough to get her drunk and she had high hopes of it affecting Lou’s new constitution. The two of them intoxicated could have horrific consequences, depending on the time, place, and audience.

However, he was a simple servant. It was not his place to act to safeguard the Hall and the kingdom, so he kept his silence.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Next to be lowered were three large crates that hit the ground with a loud smack. “One wyvern body with all the pieces. I can’t even imagine what she needs this one for. The things don’t even taste good. The meat’s too bitter, you know?”

“Confirmed. I do not know. I have never tasted wyvern.”

“No? Suppose they aren’t common on this continent.” The visitor moved aside several crates to grab a barrel. He set it on the ground and opened the lid, revealing several arrows. Their metal tips glowed with a greenish hue in the firelight, the contrast of their dark shafts only making it more obvious.

“Several bundles of her favorite arrows. The shafts have been soaking in Wilky’s Flaming Delights the whole journey. These may as well be a barrel of bombs. Leave it to her to weaponize alcohol. Or maybe I should blame those Twilight freaks. They make her look sane.”

“Confirmed.”

“What does she need this many arrows for anyway? Is she planning on starting a war?”

Nomad paused, evaluating whether the answer fit the criteria for information allowed to the visitor. “She is going north to aid the knights of Fort Victory in their siege of the Bleak Peaks. From given accounts, there will be more than enough enemies for these arrows.”

“Ah, leave it to her to get involved in the humans’ biggest war. I have to admit, even I’m curious about these winter lords. They’re a strange bunch. Someone managed to have a conversation with them once, from the historical texts I was able to find. That proves they’re intelligent. Yet, they still allow the pointless attempts to take their territory when there should be far more to gain from establishing trade. Or, if they really don’t want to share the Bleak Peaks, then they should just eradicate the Fort. No offense.”

Nomad stared at him blankly.

“Makes me wonder. Are they gaining something from these constant attacks? Maybe it’s like with Green Mountain, throwing away the weaker tribes to solve overpopulation. If so, wouldn’t that make the strongest force on the human continent nothing more than pest killers? Moreover, free pest killers?”

The visitor chuckled for several moments while the servant’s face remained blank. Eventually, he righted himself. “Whew. Sorry about that, friend. The thought was just too hilarious. I’m questioning it because I’m always interested in new cultures but you should tell Greenie’s wife to think about it. After all, if that madwoman goes on a rampage, you humans may be looking at the end of a centuries long war. You all need to seriously consider what that means for your race and this kingdom.”

“I will deliver your message.”

“Let’s finish this up.” Next to leave the wagon was a heavy wooden chest whose top reached Nomad’s waist. “Wyvern worm silk, harvested from the farms of High Noon. I’m glad she’s taking care of you all. There’s enough thread here to make armor for a small battalion. I thought she’d put daggers in your hands, throw you at the monsters, and collect the survivors. Marriage has done wonders for her temperament.”

“Confirmed.”

“And lastly…” The last to be removed was a small ornate box. It was handed to Nomad directly. “Assorted seeds, most of which are banned in three provinces. Which of course means you can find them growing on the side of the road in Twilight. Did I mention how crazy those chimera bastards are? Anyway, that’s the last of it. Want my help bringing it to the house?”

“That is fine. Another servant will arrive to help me.”

“Alright then.” The visitor checked their wares before blowing out the lantern and grabbing the wagon’s arms. “No time to waste. I’ve got customers to see and a schedule to keep. Give Green Thumbs my love.”

“Am I permitted to ask a question?”

“Sure? Don’t know why you have to ask. You’re a strange one, friend.”

“Why do you never visit the house? You seem to be quite close to the mistress.”

“Eh, that’s complicated. There’re traditions to be considered. If we were to see each other, ah, well. It’s not a good time for that. But you should tell her to write her mother.”

“I will deliver your message.”

The visitor walked off, pulling the wagon behind him silently, quickly becoming a shadow that blended in with the night. As soon as they disappeared, Bell emerged from the garden. “Coo~”

The servant bowed his head. “Thank you for your assistance.”

He turned away as the imp transformed. He glanced back when the pulsing red disappeared, seeing a creature with too many legs and twice as many arms. It grabbed all the items before scuttling off toward the house.

And Nomad continued with his duties.