Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 52: Auld Acquaintance

Toren Daen

I sipped my stew gratefully, savoring the warmth as it went down my throat. It was the familiar hearty recipe Greahd always made, the meat and veggies slowly filling me up.

I watched the festivities from a small distance away, noting the change in everyone present. Greahd had recently started up her small gatherings for the community again. A large bonfire roared near the canal, spreading heat to all who needed it. Snow coated the ground all over East Fiachra, but in this little section, there was none to be found.

It had been a month since the collapse of the Joans. The people here didn't magically get better now that the supply of blithe was removed, but I thought I could see an unusual cheer in the eyes of the people as they conversed and celebrated.

It would've been around Christmastime in my previous world. A time for companionship, family, and brotherhood. Alacrya didn't have Christmas, but they did have a New Year's Festival.

A man bumped past me as he meandered toward the fire, turning to me with surprise.

"Sorry about that," I said, waving. I'd been slowly getting lost in my own thoughts, not looking where I was going.

The man, who had lost all of his hair and was wearing a ragged brown coat, blanched when he saw my face. He tucked his head, muttering apologies as he scrambled off.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I meandered back to a thick log and sat down with a heavy thump. Whenever somebody spotted me, their eyes sparked with hesitation, and in the worst cases, fear. It was obvious in how they quickly averted their gaze, seeming to find the packed dirt increasingly interesting.

It reminded me of the last time I'd participated in this gathering. I had nearly been killed by a lucky knife, and then I'd threatened a man in front of the entire crowd. To these unadorned men and women, mages were synonymous with power. They didn't understand me, so they feared me.

It made my heart clench whenever I saw them shuffle away from me, my mind drifting to the dancing joy I had experienced when I joined them in their festivities. Around me, people found solace in each other. I was alone.

"You're looking glum," a voice said from behind me. "I think you could use some company."

I turned to look at Hofal, knowing I couldn't suppress the expression on my face. He sat down next to me slowly, complaining slightly about his back.

The shield's sideburns were beginning to grow out slightly, and a bit of a beard formed around his chin. His thinning hair, however, wasn't cooperating with that. It stubbornly refused to grow.

We sat in silence for a moment as I stewed in a helpful dose of self-pity. Greahd was serving bowls of stew nearby, and she was pointedly keeping me at arm's length. I didn't know how to treat her now after my success with the Joans.

"You know, you could try and talk with them," Hofal offered, pulling out his pipe. "I heard what happened here last time from Naereni. You handled yourself well, all things considered."

"They don't seem to think I handled anything well," I said a bit bitterly, gesturing to the collage of people milling about. A young boy almost tripped as he ran after another, kicking up dirt onto the legs of an older woman. She didn't even seem to notice. "Considering every time I approach, it's all 'Lord Mage this,' and 'Lord Mage that.'"

Hofal took a puff of his tobacco. "They're unadorned, Toren. Their entire lives, they've been told the reason they are condemned to this slum is because the Vritra spurned them. That they are here because they are not blessed by magic." The older man frowned contemplatively, his eyebrows scrunching together in the way only possible when in deep thought. "You confuse them. And considering their only interactions with mages have been when the nobles peddled drugs to their loved ones, they expect the worst of you."