Just Fiction

- Dirt Road, West of Verden, Early Noon, -2 DSTR -

The wagon rolled down the road with two muddy brown horses pulling the load. It was basically a raft on wheels with an off white fabric sheet covering the traveller's belongings, nothing fancy so not to draw attention. The further they travelled from the town the more anxious Kadri'Saar became. Kadri held the reigns while her father, Bardolphus, struggled to stay awake.

Dustmire was just as it sounded; a quiet, dirty town west of Verden that everyone had forgotten. Probably because it was just a mining town and after the tunnels collapsed, people gave up and left. It was places like Dustmire that people tended to seek shelter in, though most of these "safe towns" hadn't survived abandonment. Enough people had taken refuge in Dustmire to maintain it as a mini town--not wreckage. The poorest of poor, quietest of quiet. Isolated where nobody really communicated to one another. In fact, you never really saw anyone's faces. Tended to wear masks and used gestures to speak.

Fleeing Verden was a temporary but necessary move for the then-trio, of course. The time had finally dawned and the return would hopefully be smooth and simple; they'd go back, settle into their house once more, reopen the bookstore and church, and Kadri could begin her natural healing works once more. Hopefully there would be no need to travel for more herbs or containers. Or anything for that matter. The SzKutak's weren't fabulously wealthy--having been absent from their dutiesso long penalized their income. A good amount of money was lost and yet they were still better off then some people. Maybe her few friends would remember her. She'd met a lot of people in her home of Hartford. A thousand good thoughts crossed her mind at once.

"Do you really think we can assimilate back in?" Kadri squinted from the sun.

He grumbled and opened his drooping blue eyes, "I wouldn't call it assimilating, really. I see no problem as Hartford is what it's always been. Relatively friendly. Especially to us who have done no wrong."

Is that why we had to leave, because they're friendly and we did nothing? she thought, holding her tongue in her teeth. Chances are you're reputation would've been fine if we'd just stayed. But oh, no. Dragged me and Asealya with you. Hmph. The horses huffed as the wagon rolled over some rocky ground.

"I know some people were very upset that we had to close up everything. Since we own the land still, I hear people have had to travel across Verden just to praise their creator and find decent medicines," he chuckled heartily. "How many of those books did you write up?"

Kadri thought back to her frantic writing habits back in the ghost town as she was constantly bored. "I'd say about five? Two are real novels...but then two are just for the youth to enjoy. Something small and easy," she noticed how her father was eyeing her. Giving off a sigh, "and another one of your underdog-saint stories. That was a blast to make." She respected the religion and found immense courage in it, but hated how he was so enslaved with sermons and sacred texts. It should set you free not bind you.

"Use the phrase Texts of Devotion instead next time. Maybe you should write more of those for the people instead of your silly adventures and love stories. And stop investing in fiction books about winged horses and merfolk." He shook his head as if what he said was factual.

"They aren't fiction if they exist, papa. In Dalen-"

"They are fiction because they have no place in this kingdom, this world!" The man snapped with his growling voice. Kadri stayed silent, looking at the horses hooves moving clouds of dust. Her eyes flooded with hurt. Those books she'd invested in were everything to her.
The more mythical the stories the less books she sold which wasn't surprising at all. The ones about human nobles making great sacrifices to save someone they loved--sold out quick. So did the Texts of Devotion or at least they used to sell like hot soup in the coldest winter.

Bardolphus began humming a tune he'd taught some of the children who accompanied him on his morning strolls. His daughter hesitated to follow along shortly after as it was a sort of rule about being near a cleric; if he sang, you sang. Supposed to bring good luck and prosperity. Nothing else had to be followed, really. Just as long as you didn't assault and threaten someone ordained. As always, he'd ended his chant with the prayer he used every day.

"Revered spirit, creator of all that's good, with a heavy heart I come to you. I was blinded, I passed judgment where it wasn't my right to do so. Forgive me for my flaws, relieve me of my demons. Guide my mind to illuminate the darkness. I accept my deserved punishment so I may relish in your eternal grace once more." He clutched the bright purple pendant hanging from his neck. Kadri looked to him with squinted eyes; picturing her father in his robes and jewelry and ceremonial prayer beads brought a smile to her face. He was so passionate about what he preached. Most people now didn't even know what they stood for.

Kadri and Asealya had asked him when they were younger who he "passed judgement" on, having assumed it was Kadri's mother and he had forgiven his lost love. It came out that he turned a poor woman of the church away from prayer for working a brothel to provide for her four children. She was there to seek forgiveness from the maker but was so abruptly denied. It was this holy betrayal Father Bardolphus wanted to be relieved of, not pledging to destroy Ha'Dann and her child who had no control over their species. From that day he began allowing anyone use the church to speak their sins and right their wrongs. Anyone who was a human without magic, that was.
As they traveled further, Kadri wondered what happened in all of the kingdoms while they were away.

Couldn't have missed too much, right?