Part One: The Shire of Beetletun

Librettist Jytti of Rata Sum

*** Part One: The Shire of Beetletun ***

“Yer a tiny thing,” said a man, as he stumbled to sit at the bar.

“Yes, well, in opposition you are quite large. Does your intake of red meat make you superior?” I was busy peering outside, trying to see past the drops of rain that coursed down the rippled glass. It irritated me that he had picked that particular stool to park his rump on. I had used that stool not ten minutes ago to help me vault on top of the bar, and I might need it to get down. The owner of this inn possibly wouldn't appreciate me taking the liberty of parking myself on the surface where she serves libations. I didn't wish to upset anyone; however, by my calculations, it was past time for my meeting to start, and I was anxious to see my future colleague. I hoped she would be coming up the road any second.

“Ye cave rats are cute when yer tryin' to sound smart,” the man responded. He had foam in his lip hair, remnants of the alcoholic beverage he had consumed recently. The coarse, grizzly beard that covered his chin and neck had crumbs nestled into the thicket.

“Oie, Delma! Come bring me'n my new friend 'ere a drink.”

“You ent got any friends,” Delma, the keeper of the Loyal Hound Inn, called back. She appeared from the kitchen in the back, wiping her hands on a dusty rag, “Don't start trouble, Ern. This is your last warning.”

“Yes, Ern, if you could please keep your trouble to a minimum. Us cave rats have feelings, you know, as well as sharp teeth,” I smiled widely enough so that my new friend could see what I meant, even through my mask. But I quickly turned my attention back to the outdoors, “How would anyone be expected to see through this window? It's filthy, and foggy, not to mention how distorted the image is due to these ripples in the glass. You know, Delma, might I borrow your dish rag? Oh, never mind, it would probably only add grease to grime.”

“Don't worry, Delma, I wouldn't pick a fight. Not with her, anyway, she ent even big enough to fight my dog,” the man called Ern said.

“Stop it now, you hear? So little miss, is there something I can do for you? If yer waitin' on someone, they might be a while on account of the rain,” Delma said.

“Yes, yes, the rain. It might hamper you all in Beatlebun, or Beetletun, or whatever this town is called. However, I made it to your tavern on time, despite the moisture, and I would have expected the same of my future colleague. We are both from the Tarnished Coast, after all, and the precipitation levels are much higher there,” I informed the inn keeper. Despite my intelligent appraisal of the situation, the rain sodden road that I watched remained dutifully empty. I glanced back at Delma and sighed. Both she and her bar patron were staring at me with expressions as barren as the muddy road outside.

“Very well, since I am in your place of business, I suppose it would be rude of me not to order something,” I scrambled down off the bar, executing a deft front flip, and landing smoothly. Well, in appearance anyway, for the landing surely didn't feel smooth on my joints. It mattered more that I not show weakness in front of that brute Ern. He had been here since I'd walked in, drinking quietly at a table. Once that tankard was drained, he had started shooting me looks over his shoulder.

That was when I had begun to feel anxious at the lateness of my associate. I huffed and complained to no one about tardiness before taking a seat at the window, wherein Ern had decided to join me. I hadn't been offended by his initial insults, witty as I'm sure he meant them to be. Nevertheless, I did not appreciate the assumption that I was too small to be a good fighter. I didn't pick fights with strangers, but I wasn't afraid of Ern, or the slobbering mutt he spoke of.

“As you say, ma'am. What can I bring you?” Delma asked.

I claimed a small round table with four empty chairs around it, and sat facing the bar so I could keep an eye on Ern.

“What do you have in the vein of hot drinks? Keeping in mind, of course, that I don't consume fermented beverages. I also prefer to avoid any bovine lactation.”

“I got mead and ale. Could boil it for ya, if you want it warm. There's goat milk for the kiddies,” Delma said, “What would you like?”

“Well,” I sighed, “The choices are slim. Although, a goat is truly not a cow so I must thank you for that distinction at least. Perhaps I can offer a compromise. I was lucky enough to come across a mentha plant in the forest as I traveled to Beetletun. You can boil me a pot of water, and I can diffuse my own mint leaf in it to make myself tea.”

Again, I found myself the host to a pair of blank eyes. Was I such an enigma? Was it so odd to place a custom order for a simple cup of hot water? Delma, Delma, Delma. I knew of some books that she could greatly benefit from studying. Namely, books about etiquette, service of consumables, perhaps even inn keeping strategies for buffoons. That was assuming she could read.

“And in exchange, I could pay the same price as if I were getting one of your ales. All I ask is that you boil the water thoroughly to ensure that it is drinkable. Surely this is a bargain in your favor, would you agree?”

“A pot of boiled water? Right away ma'am,” Delma walked into her kitchen where I could see a hearth, lit to keep her tavern warm.

“My thanks, Miss Delma!” I called after her.

“Hey, where's my drink? I ordered first!” Ern exclaimed.

“You've had enough, it ent even supper yet!” Delma argued, already flustered by my unconventional order. She grabbed a bucket, threw a mottled gray shawl over her head, and disappeared deeper into the kitchen. I heard a door opening, the sound of pouring rain, then the door closed, as Delma went to go fetch water.

“I don't come here for yer sass, ye balmy wench! I can take my copper and be on me way,” Ern warned, apparently unaware that Delma had left. What a poor excuse for a threat.

“Maybe you should go home. If you stay here, you will only keep drinking, and I do not think that you need any more. It has already muddled your brain, and you must know that it has long term effects,” I suggested.

My own sass did not sit well with Ern either. He slammed his palms down on the bar and rose slowly to point and glare at me.

“I don't mind havin' a few strangers in my town-”

“I would suspect not. Travelers bring money to towns, and support local businesses like this tavern for instance. It's empty now but if there were more travelers, I am certain it would only aid Beetletun. Besides the fact that I highly doubt that this town actually belongs to you,” I interjected.

“- S'long as they ain't snotty cave rat pests like you!”

“Pests? Sir, you can either take my advice or leave it, I really do not care, even if it is good advice that I offer. But you should show some respect to the Asura. We freely shared our advanced technology with the world. Next you will tell me that you refuse to take any of the waypoint portals out of prejudice,” I stood on my chair then climbed on the table, so we could look each other in the eyes, “My grandmother used to say that stupidity seeks easy offense from the productions of intelligence. Or, to put it more bluntly: You are more stupid than a cave rat.”

“You haughty scum!” Ern grabbed his empty tankard and made to hit me with it. I ducked and rolled off the table, unsheathing my greatsword.

“Stop calling me a cave rat, and I'll stop calling you stupid,” I squeezed the tiny lever on the grip of my sword. In a flutter of purple sparks, three holographic clones of myself sprang into existence, all surrounding Ern. Two held swords as big as mine. The third held a shield, and would defend me against any blows.

“What in the red hills-” Ern cursed tripping over himself in surprise.

“Allow me to introduce you to my friends, Ern: Flay, Stab, and Maim. They're here to show you just how well a small rat can fare in a big fight. Courtesy of the College of Synergetics,” I took a few steps back, allowing the holographic images to take the attention off of me. If Ern were much of a real fighter, I would have much more work on my hands. As it was, I only wanted to scare him.

Obviously the images had no real names, as they were merely illusions. The one I had named Flay, simply for the purposes of introducing her to Ern, swung her sword over her head and arched it behind Ern's knees, pulling him to the ground. Stab dodged to avoid the falling mass and did an impressive flip over him to land with her sword held to his throat. Maim stood ready with her shield, quite useless in this short fight.

“I give, I give!” Ern cried out.

I calmly stepped up onto Ern's belly, making him flinch but not dare to move much more with Stab's sword held in position over his neck.

“Perhaps we should call your dog in to help you fight,” I suggested. Ern seemed quite angry, but kept quiet, “We wouldn't want this to be in any way unfair.”

A scream bellowed out from the kitchen and I looked up in time to see Delma disappearing out the back door. Well, there went my hot water. I hoped she would calm down eventually. She owned a tavern, she should know how to better deal with a fight as opposed to a shriek and retreat.

“Get off! I give, already, ye crazy witch!” Ern spat, a note of urgency in his voice.

The front door opened to my left and I was surprised to see two Sylvari walk in, having momentarily forgotten that my purpose here was to meet Brookelm, as opposed to teaching imbeciles a lesson. It had been some months since I had seen her, but she had changed little. In the Sylvari fashion, she had leaves on her head shaped like hair. On Brookelm, her buoyant, shoulder length, glossy leaves were mostly orange with green streaks. Her skin was an assortment of pale green leaves layered with blushing pink petals. To help blend in, she wore a human style skirt and blouse.

Attached to the belt of her skirt, were two barnacle encrusted, curved daggers that had a faint orange glow. Brooklem was an elementalist, and had an affinity for fire, which was a major factor in my asking her to accompany on my fact-finding quest. The undead could withstand most everything except for fire.

But I had never seen the other Sylvari before, and felt immediate annoyance that Brookelm would take the liberty of bringing an uninvited guest with her.

“Brookelm,” I hailed, stepping off of the prostrate Ern. I pressed the lever on my sword again to deactivate my holograms before sheathing the weapon. They popped out of existance in a swirl of purple mist, causing Ern to flinch and cry out, “It was you who set the time and place of our meeting, and yet you are the one to arrive late. This isn't an ideal beginning to our partnership.”

“Good afternoon, Jytti. I see you've found a means of entertainment. What did this poor creature do to deserve your wrath?” Brookelm asked me, closing the door behind her and her companion, “This is Hickory, by the way. She is eager to see the world.”

Hickory was of much darker coloring than Brookelm, with brown skin much more akin to tree bark, with porous golden brown leaves hanging over her forehead. Her weapon was a poorly made short bow strapped across her body along with a cask of arrows. Remaining silent, Hickory surveyed the room before following Brookelm to the table I had chosen for us. Her squinting golden eyes peered at me beneath her veil of leafy hair.

“Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure of it. And this 'entertainment,' as you call it, was not at all fun for me. That man was trying to hit me over the head with a mug. It is a clay mug, if you cannot tell, and could have rendered me unconscious had I not defended myself. And, I must add, there would have been more trouble with this oaf if you had shown up on time.”

“Oh, Jytti, what is time, though? Surely a day can exist without breaking it into smaller pieces,” Brookelm pondered.

“Time can be very important to those that take comfort from it,” Hickory added.

“Which is to say everyone, except for plants apparently. For the rest of the populace time is communication. It is a mutually beneficial agreement to make our dealings with each other run more efficiently. How else could anything be done, I ask you that,” I responded.

Ern began to groan as he attempted to sit up. The mutterings under his breath were not complimentary towards me.

“Calm down, Ern, have a seat will you? Or go home if you must. I would offer to buy you a drink as recompense for any imagined offense you might have stacked against me, if the inn keeper would be so kind as to return. I could buy us all drinks. But in the meantime, if you would join me at this table, we can discuss why I have requested that you meet me. That invitation wasn't for you, though, Ern, you have an entire tavern to pick from if you want to sit down, although I could really care less what you do at this point,” I crawled up into a chair at my original table, this time facing the front door, hoping that Ern would leave. Hickory watched me do this with quiet intent.

“I've told Hickory about your recent encounters with the undead in Morgan's Spiral. She herself has aided an Asura named Rexx in that area and was keen to speak with you,” Brookelm remarked, sitting across from me.

“If your purpose in this meeting was to compare me to that misguided lout, I am afraid we have already disagreed. Unlike your silly Agent Rexx, I am not so interested in maneuvering around the undead as I am in eradicating them. And here is where you will want to pay attention: Through careful research, and deductions that are no less than brilliant, my krewe has traced the paths of these emerging undead. The ones that are washing up around Morgan's Spiral do not originate in Orr,” I said. Hickory had continued to stand, suspicious of me for whatever reason, but I ignored her. By my first impression, I judged her as overly cautious, purposefully to cover for her lack of intelligence. And, as such, I had no use for her.

“But if they do not originate in Orr, is someone else creating them besides the accursed dragon?” Brookelm ventured.

“That was my Krewe's assumption, as well; however, I cannot completely rule out Zhaitan without further investigation.”

“This turn of events has intrigued me,” Brookelm tapped her fingers on the table, and watched them thoughtfully with her large pink and red eyes, “If you plan to track the undead to their source, I want to come too.”

“Good, yes, I think that will do fine,” I said. Hickory glanced between Brookelm and I in turn.

“We have to travel all the way back to Caledon Forest first?” she wondered, in a bratty, unwilling tone.

“No, that would be unnecessary as I've already traced them past Morgan's Spiral. But I wouldn't want to bore you with details, Hickory. You are free to travel where you please.”

“I choose to join you,” Hickory looked at Brookelm for confirmation and support.

“No, that too is unnecessary. I cannot see why you would be of any help in this matter. If it is an Asura you with to team with, I suggest returning to Morgan's Spiral. Agent Rexx needs all the help he can get.”

“I can help you. I track better than any other I trained with. Better than any tracking device you brought. I can do it in poor conditions, but a device breaks down when it gets wet, leaving you with nothing.”

“Untrue, I will still have my intellect,” I replied.

The only device I had elected to bring with me, aside from my weaponry, was a compass. Albeit, an Asuran compass was far superior to one made by, say, humans. But it was still a simple tool. Even a walking plant as simple as Hickory would not deem it impractical. I declined to point this out, since it would do nothing but give her something more to contest.

“This is not a personal affront to your character. If I had required a third member for the quest, I would have brought a member of my own krewe."

“You need a third member, you are both dealers in magic. How can-”

“That is incorrect, I do not use magic. My weapon contains illusion based technology that projects a hologram. I do not expect you to comprehend-”

“Fake allies and elemental fire could use the aid of a physical weapon,” Hickory reached back and tapped her short bow with the tips of her bark colored fingers.

“Calling your second rate bow a physical weapon is generous as well as comical,” I responded. This stubborn tree was only proving more and more why she was not coming with me to Queensdale. Brookelm watched us with a passive expression, apparently fine with either outcome.

“Hold it,” Hickory snapped, whipping out her bow and swiftly aiming it towards the front of the inn. I sighed deeply.

“Shooting a door will not boost your chances.”

“There are men coming, I can hear them. They are wearing mail and carrying swords,” she stated, holding her arrow steady.

“Hmm? Well, perhaps there is an afternoon rush for the Loyal Hound Inn? Delma will be please, if she should ever choose to return,” I said, “Please, Hickory, put away your twigs. This is a relatively peaceful town, and we wouldn't want to appear hostile less they call the guard.”

And at that particular moment, the front door opened to reveal five members of the Ministry Guard followed by Miss Delma herself. Somehow I did not think they had dropped by for Delma's famous ale.

“Whas this I hear about a fight?” said the first man who had entered, his eyes fixated on the point of Hickory's arrow. It was aimed at his face, after all. As soon as they walked in the door, the guardsmen fanned out to stand in a loose circle around the tavern, everyone with a hand on the hilt of their sword.

“Thas the one, ser, the little miss in purple. She cast a spell what made ghosts come in my tavern and with big swords. Ask Ern there, he saw it,” Delma said, standing sideways in the threshold, one foot outside in case she should want to flee. They were all drenched from the rain, which I could see had not let up.

“It was not magic, you simpleton!” I shot back.

Ern, the one I was accused of cursing, stood awkwardly near my table, eyeballing all of the guardsmen and not sure which one he could put his back to.

“And he is unharmed, as any of us can see. I do not think this small matter requires the attention of any officials, and as such perhaps we should all calm down,” I emphasized my last word by smacking Hickory on her hip. Hickory slowly lowered her weapon, without putting it away, but did not move otherwise.

“Perhaps it is time to go,” Brookelm suggested. Her eyes rested on the table, and I could tell she did not appreciate being surrounded by steel-plated men.

“Now, Asura. We don't think highly of trouble makers in the Shire of Beetletun,” the guardsman said, the only one who seemed to be capable of speech. Although he was taking the lead in this particular band, I doubted he was anyone's captain, “Minister Caudecus pays us good money to keep the peace, and wouldn't be very happy to hear that three strangers were in town picking fights.”

“He is clearly overpaying you, then. Because instead of actually investigating a potentially violent citizen of Caudecus' precious utopia, you are choosing to instead fall prey to your own prejudices against so-called 'strangers.' Which, of course, by that you mean to say non-humans. Am I wrong?” the words were spoken quickly, but I had made sure to gesture to Ern during my appraisal of him.

“Now is most definitely a good time to leave,” Brookelm whispered.

“I'm afraid you'll have to come with us to the keep. We'll let the minister sort you out in the morning. Bring out the shackles.”

“This is absolutely ridiculous! You literally have no evidence against me. I should have been the one to go to the guard after Ern nearly brained me with one of your tankards, might I add. I merely defended myself without laying hand on my attacker, and yet I am the one to be thrown into a locked cell? Yes, bring me to your minister, I have a thing or two to say to him regarding the conduct of his Ministry Guard,” I stepped off my chair and found four swords unsheathed and pointing in my direction.

“Oh, what? Now all I have to do is stand up to pose a threat to the Shire's peace? I was merely hoping to obey your orders. Did you expect me to crawl to your keep? Perhaps you were planning to carry me? I will have you know that I am perfectly capable of remaining a civilized participant, even when you are not,” I raised my hands to show that I had no intention of provoking them.

“Shut it, runt, or I'll have yer ear!” threatened the leading guardsman.

At that point in the less than diplomatic exchange, I was quite ready to become a real troublemaker and introduce these men to the magic ghosts they had been summoned for. Yet, the tense moment was interrupted by a shriek and the immediate disappearance of Delma from her threshold. A moment later just as the guards were seemingly inclined to poke their heads out and look for her, a large spotted stalker cat jumped inside and landed on top of the nearest guardsman. Its claws screeched on his breastplate as it roared in his face.

I must admit, that was far from what I expected to happen.

With the five guardsmen properly distracted and rushing to the aid of their fellow officer, Hickory and Brookelm took off for the back of the inn. They were following Ern, who wound his way through the kitchen and vaulted himself out through the open backdoor. When I reached the doorway, having been the last one, I shut it behind myself, so that Delma's two goats, who were huddled up against the wall of the inn, wouldn't wander through the kitchen and encounter the spotted large feline within.

Sylvari's have very long, sinewy legs, much longer than mine, and the two I was following had already zipped off down the dirt road, and were heading around the corner towards the dock and house on the lake. I had to make a dash just to keep them in my sight. Ern, who had a hand in causing this mess, was no where to be seen. Finally, I was rid of that idiot.

Past Beetletun and up into the Queen's Forest, I caught up to Brookelm and Hickory. They had come upon a hunting lodge, and casually walked towards the open tavern door. I agreed to myself that if the guards were to come looking for us, it would be better to hide inside a crowded bar than camping out in a sparsely wooded forest or on the open dirt road. I also felt the need to sit on a bench and let my lungs expand and contract a few times at their own pace, else-wise they were threatening to burn right out of my chest.

Once again, we three travelers found ourselves at a table, at an inn, with a Hickory who would not sit. At least the rain had abated while we ran and I was mostly dry, save for my clothes.

“You two keep a brisk pace,” I admitted, huffing my way into another seat clearly not made for an Asura, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I must venture to guess that the Ministry guard will remain in Beetletun this evening, more than likely glad to be rid of us. Especially after the incidental stalker invasion. He picked the perfect time to leave the wilds, and my backside thanks the poor beast.”

“It was not a random attack. The cat is a pet trained by Hickory,” Brookelm told me. She sounded no more winded than if she had just taken a stroll in the garden.

“A pet, you say? Well, I am still glad that he appeared when he did, but are you not distressed to think that the minister will have a new spotted stalker rug to decorate his mansion?” I required of Hickory.

“I'm not worried, because I know they can't catch him. I'm sure he'll find us shortly,” Hickory declared.

“He must be a remarkable beast, indeed, to have come with you to Beetletun hidden all that time from the guards and those Krytan Drakehounds they had sniffing about,” I said.

The hunting lodge was crowded with large parties, some obviously traveling as we were. To add to the din of the tavern, there was a moa stable across the small dirt courtyard, and several of them were sticking their heads out of their stalls and squawking at cats, each other, possibly the rain clouds- who knew. I had planned to stay the night in the Loyal Hound Inn, but obviously Delma would not accept my coppers considering the circumstances. I wondered if this lodge had any rooms for the night, preferably ones free of biting insects.

When I mentioned as much, Hickory gave me a lingering gaze.

“If you two have the coin, you are welcome to sleep in my room. But I will not share my bed with anyone,” I affirmed. It was the closest I would get to confessing that I was wanted Hickory to join my quest. Brookelm smiled and called for three drinks.

“If you could please boil water for me, I have my own herbal infusion,” I said, pulling mint leaves out of my belt pouch.

***