The next few moments are occupied by the human, steadily sweeping the area with his readied crossbow while under the watch of an awestruck lot of human slaves.

  Once the place is thoroughly secured, the human clears his throat.

  "You're all free," he says simply, taking the key to the binds of each one in quick succession. They are all dumbstruck at their sudden fortune.

  The lamplight is low here of course, so the grateful prisoners can’t actually see the melanin of his skin. He’s met with a heavy amount of unwitting thanks and praise, instead.

  "What is your name, hero?" one of the people, a tall southern man, asks fervently.

  Effie glances to the human, whose face shifts in thought. "Mort," he says simply at last.

  "Well, Mort," the man presents his hands to shake. "I'd like to let you know that you've made a whole family of people— no, a whole village— overjoyed by what you've done. Thank you, for saving me and my daughter!" He turns to her in relief. "If we run now, we should still make it back before the tax census."

  The so-called Mort only nods, watching the man leave with his adolescent daughter alongside at least a dozen others.

  "Great," Effie speaks up impatiently, "we saved 'em. Now then, let's get out of he-"

  As if on cue, a desperate tone cuts in from the side. "S-sir, wait!"

  A disgusted Effie looks over to see a soot-covered white boy, about twelve, pulling nervously on Mort's cloak.

  "I... I can't go alone. Please take me back to my town," he requests.

  Mort's silent for a moment in thought, but Effie's absolutely going to give him her opinion on the matter this time.

  "No." she starts with a hiss. "Absolutely not!"

  "Do you know the way?" Mort questions, ignoring her.

  The boy nods. "We have to take the road West from here, then the signpost North- and we'll intersect it."

  "Alright. We'll take you there, but then we part ways," Mort says with a nod.

  "N-noooooooo, dumbass!" Effie wails in defeat with her squeak of a voice.

  "I-is that a fairy?" the boy jolts in awe.

  Mort raises a brow. "I… guess she is," he nods.

  Just then, a goblin leaps out with a bag of rocks. Evidently, he’s been hiding there this entire time- just waiting for the perfect moment to make his surprise attack.

  “Y-YOU’RE DEAD, YAAA-”

  This is about all he can get out before Mort shoots him, too.

  "She's pretty," the boy exclaims as the three take their leave, completely disregarding the ruin they’ve left behind them.

  "Aw; thank you, kid," Effie responds with a mixed tone as she glances over the writhing body of Mort’s freshest victim, "but it would really make this fairy very happy if you could just find your own way home."

  "I'm scared, though" the child responds tentatively.

  She scowls from inside her little bird cage as she finally relents. "Ahh, right," she mumbles sulkily. At last, they ascend up and outwards.

  "So, i-is it true that you guys know magic?" the child starts again as they resurface into the shack- now directing his questions toward the small, beautiful lady resting inside the cage.

  "Yep, sure is."

  "And you're like, not like the South Gods?"

  "Yep, that’s correct."

  "And you guys have super weird customs and always have to knock on doors?" he presses.

  "Yeah, sure," she groans wearily.

  "And you guys… you guys are like, really stretchy?" he asks after a pause, contemplating how incredibly helpful that would be the next time he wanted something from the top shelf.

  "Ah, yep, that’s totally right ki- eh, w-wait; what?!" she sputters in horror, jolting angrily out of her dull disinterested responses. "N-no! You horrible child! What the hell?!"

  The boy’s eyes grow wide, and he gains a step of distance between them as they finally near the door to the outside forest. "Uh, okay, sheesh."

  The indignant young fairy is now on tirade, though. "Oh my gods! What is it with you losers and-"

  "Be quiet," Mort cuts as they pause by the door. "More of them could be waiting for us just around the corner."

  What's left of Effie's wings rear up with insulted protest, but she knows that he's actually right. The two wait in a petulant silence as Mort quietly leans open the door.

  Chapter Five: The Hero

  They've been walking about an hour now, and the tides of morning are settling along the forest’s edges.

  Gentle hints of blue and purple twist into the ether of overwhelming blackness, slowly lending that hoary hue of very early dawn and dimly alighting onto a rather peculiarly placed sign.

  "Huh, that’s interesting,” Effie notes curiously. “What's it say?" The young fairy looks the strange thing over while waiting expectantly for someone to translate. She’s not at all accustomed to human writing. At a glance, the written language of humans actually looks just like her own- but after being apart so many years, all the cultures and languages have begun to shift.

  The boy, who introduced himself an hour ago as Mutic, gives a rather useless shrug. "Who do you take me for? That's Church alphabet."

  The two eye the gaudy sign with suspicion. It's of a serious, white metal construction, with an attractive cobalt accent. Overgrown with vines, but still perfectly legible, it bears words known by only a very specific few.

  "Too bad we don't have an officer or priest around," Effie laments, referring to what little she knows of human vocations that would, in fact, be taught Church writing.

  "Mm. Fuda village, two point seven specs from here," Mort says simply as he catches up to them.

  The two reel around with looks of awe on their faces.

  "You know Church?" an aghast Effie demands in surprise.

  He nods back rather blandly. "That's what all books of science are written in."

  "W- do you work for the kingdom then?" Effie presses, the mere thought causing the boy next to them to step away in concern.

  Mort sighs. "No," he answers curtly, "Do I look like an official to either of you?"

  The fairy scoffs. "Some of those Church folks are definitely freaks. How should I know?"

  "I don't know," he cuts coldly. "Anyway, that's pointing North." He turns to Mutic. "Is this the way to your village, then?"

  The boy nods nervously.

  At that, Mort simply starts in the given direction, certain that the kid will come along in just a moment more.

  But as the minutes tick by and the distance stretches further, it becomes quite evident that the child actually isn’t budging.

  Mort gains a few more meters before finally turning back to look at the boy, who's still standing where he was left- his eyes growing steadily wider with apprehension.

  "You're... you're really not from the Court, are you?" the small child stutters at last.

  Mort squints at the boy with surprise. "I'm a mud, kid," he responds wryly, as if that itself were answer enough.

  The boy's expression mixes with confusion though. "A- a mud?"

  "You know, a half-breed!"

  Mutic stares on with uncertainty. "Is… is that... bad?"

  Mort's eyes flash in confusion for a moment, and Effie moves to the rim of her cage to speak up.

  "You… really don't get around much, do you?" she asks the young man with just a hint of compassion.

  The man doesn't respond, so the fairy continues.

  "Muds get the death sentence now, along with their parents. There’s no more orphanages that’ll take them; they don’t stand a chance anymore."

  Mort draws into himself slowly. "But… why doesn't he know?"

  "He's young, obviously. Probably never seen someone like you in his whole life," Effie explains.

  Mort looks over to Mutic, who seems to be calmer now that the man has firmly assured him that he's not from the Court of Yerran. Effie looks up at Mort, and realizes that he’s gotten that expression of wonderment on his face again. She ponders if knowing that kids don't find him a monster right away is giving him something resembling hope.

  "Look, boy" Mort starts back after a moment of quiet. "Nevermind what I said about the whole mud thing, alright. I don't work for the Court, and I don't work for Belfede. I just read a lot of their books is all."

  Mutic still stands his ground. "Father said no one gets those books unless they work for them, though."

  Effie can hear Mort's breathing grow thin. "Does your father have any connections to them?"

  "No, he hates them," Mutic answers slowly, finally rallying back to Mort's side as they continue down the road.

  "Good, because I hate them too," Mort starts, retaking travel as well. "In fact, I killed a whole carriage of them when I was just a little older than you are."

  Just as soon as he’s regained his comfortable distance, Mutic steps aside again nervously. Even Effie, who considers herself rather worldly, flashes a glance bordering between both impressed and horrified.

  "They had a lot of their books with them, as it turns out. It was apparently a chemist on his way to inspect a garden. After the fight was over, I salvaged every last book that I could find amidst their belongings," the young man explains further.

  "W-why?" Mutic asks warily. "It's a crime to read their books if you're not actually one of them."

  "Well, I couldn't read any language back then," Mort says, his eyes shining with intense reminiscence. "So, I took the opportunity to teach myself theirs."

  Effie hums thoughtfully. "So that's how you have all that chemist shit on you, then."

  Mutic looks the mysterious man over: chiseled features struck ever sharper by a life of close calls and hunter's lessons. "Your clothes looks like the Southmen," he notes curiously.

  Mort nods. "The light is dim in the swamps, though. Some of them thought I was a Northman when I first got there."

  Effie flinches in disgust. "You were with the swamp monks?!"

  Mort grits his teeth at her reaction. "Yes."

  "Augh. Th-those insect-worshiping freaks?! Gross. What could you possibly have been doing with them?"

  He growls sharply, but provides no further answer as his jaw sets.

  "W-well?!" She snaps, demanding clarification.

  Still he stays quiet though, winning another long and exasperated groan from her as she yet again admits defeat.

  "Okay, fine; just wonderful," she crosses her arms and leans moodily against her little cage. "Hey- are you at least gonna let me out, or what?"

  "You're safer in there," he says simply.

  "Y-yeah, okay; but could you at least unlock it?"

  "I'd have to break it to do that, so no... I snapped it shut back at the mines, and didn’t have enough time to look for the key that went with it. I'm not going to waste our time messing around with the silly thing."

  "Waste our time?" Effie mimics with a peppy snip. "We're taking a kid all the way back to his village!"

  Mort once again opts not to answer.

  "Just what the hell were you going off to do when you ambushed my carriage anyways?"

  He’s still not responding, though.

  She slumps to a seated position, crossing her legs on the cool metal of the cage’s floor with a sulky huff.

  "As you say it, champion," she adds with no small amount of sass.

  On this note, the three enter a traveler's silence for the next forty minutes to follow.

  Effie boredly looks over the now-hooded Mort as they move along. She smirks at the thought that he probably places the hood over his features out of habit, which she'll agree is a good policy for a half-breed human.

  Still, she wonders how one of his kind has managed to this long. Most of the ones she's heard of have been beaten to death after being judged for some sort of crime; whether or not they actually committed said crime is always anyone's guess. She smiles smugly once more to herself, knowing that she probably ultimately saved his life back in the Eastern side of the Midwood. She congratulates herself for a job well done, and quick thinking. Burning the cord, the troll’s hair, and setting off that black powder stuff all in succession? Absolute genius.

  From her little cage now, dangling across his chest, Effie can just barely see the large jar of black powder still shaded within his cloak folds. With a curt smile, she decides to keep that location in the back of her mind for later- in case she needs to dispose of this unruly moron at a future date.

  Her self-congratulatory amusement is cut short, however, when a sharp gasp arises rather abruptly from her right.

  "No!" Mutic exclaims suddenly, his gaze of horror directed to a white-gray spiral of smoke wafting just a half kilometer or so away. The great cloud is filling out ominously over the tops of the trees.

  Mort looks it over with his cold eyes. "Your village, I presume?"

  "I-it must be,” the little boy nods gravely, “come on!" Mort and Mutic burst into an urgent run up the hill.

  Effie, quickly taking stock of the situation, does her best to dissuade her semi-captor and free ride:

  "Mort, no. It's not our problem, Mort! Stop!!"

  The fairy’s shouts are falling on deaf ears as usual, though, lost even more-so amidst the clanking of her now wildly-swinging prison.

  The young man is very decidedly not slowing down this time. Effie can see on his face the sudden and certain volition of a man that's finding a new reason to fight— and she hates it so, so much.

  Peaking the hill, the trio is met with a village- along with a house densely aflame and surrounded by a crowd of frightened spectators.

  The three behold the scene behind the backdrop of the chirping cicadas, the insects crying up to the heavens as if in a final plea for a miracle.

  Mutic's pale face whitens to an almost vampirian hue when he spots one particularly notable group of people that are huddled in clear separation from the onlooking majority. "No, n-no! Father, please… no!" the child’s frantic mumblings are rising into a small wail.

  Effie Peers down to where the young boy’s gaze has locked, making out a crippled man: lain flat on the ground and held down by the boot of an official-looking man who wears the garb of the kingdom's Court representative. The looming figure is monologuing rather loudly and dramatically to the terrorized onlookers. It appears as if his men set the house on fire, and are now looking to punish the owner.

  "H-help! Please!" Mutic begs, grabbing onto Mort's cloak in desperation.

  Mort stares down at the scene, watching the official brandish his sabre about as if he's preparing to use it on the man under his boot- even going so far as to take practice swings to get a rise out of the petrified audience.

  Effie's a quick enough learner to pick up the look steadily intensifying on his face. She can already tell what he's thinking, and she doesn't like it one bit. "Mort, dearest?" Effie starts with a pliant tone. "I really think that getting involved with this would be a very bad idea."

  "No, you have to help; please!" Mutic implores, shaking Mort with all he can as he begins to cry. "He couldn't pay his taxes because of me! I wasn't there, so they're putting it on his head. They're going to murder him, and it’s all my fault! Please help us!"

  Effie leans back in a sudden shock. "W-wait. You mean they're going to kill your papa because you got kidnapped?"

  The boy nods, choking back another frantic sob. "They call it desertion! The past few months, they've been coming by more often- said it was because people are leaving to the forests to practice dark magic!"

  Effie sighs, painfully aware of her thoughts beginning to waiver. "Th- that's utterly ridiculous. What the hell is wrong with the— eh, M-mort?" Her voice trails away as she notices that Mort’s expression has grown exceptionally still.

  "It would be the honorable thing to do," he says slowly, his voice carrying the tone of an apprehensive hero. Effie flinches as she feels his bodyweight shift in a very peculiar fashion— and then the young man enters into a steady stride forward, descending down the hill.

  "Uh— w-wait a second;” she starts in alarm, “Hey! Mort, h-hold on for a just a moment there. We need to talk about this, don’t you think?… Mort?… M-Mort! Vahaidah bless your little head; Mudman, hey! Excuse me, I believe I’m talking to you! M-Mud! Come on now, stop this nonsense!... St-wh-whoaaaa!"

  In a single flash, Mort leans into a fiercely determined sprint, reaching into his jacket and retrieving another one of his bombs as he lessens the distance with leaps and bounds.

  "M-Mort,” the little fairy continues desperately, “Please, don’t be ridiculous; they are going to kill you. That's like ten men down there!"

  "A human is honorable," Mort persists with a fatalistic tone. "If I die, he'll have time to escape."

  Effie gasps as she holds onto her cage bars for dear life. "F-fine, okay- but you're forgetting about me, dumbass! You utter half-wit, holy shite! S-stop!"

  The fairy’s protests have grown into a tiny, furious storm— but Mort hears nothing over the sound of his own pulse roaring in his ears as he closes in. He rushes down behind the first intact home that’s closest to the scene, then struggles up the thatching to obtain a good range on his target.

  Chapter Six: The Monster

  Down below, the horrific show continues:

  "I don't give a FUCK how many of you I have to cut down,” the uniformed man shouts loudly, “the Four Rulers will have their tributes, and that's for every assigned member of each household! Do you all understand?" The handsome Captain Altrene waits expectantly, his pale skin and thin features ghastly against the blazing backdrop of Mutic's glowing home.

  There's horrified nods and cries of obedience all along the crescent moon-formation of villagers as the man takes back up his speech.

  "Now- as far as the Court is concerned, there's no need for households that bring up deserters, terrorists, black magicians and bug-worshipers!" He points his sabre down at the crippled man's neck with a glare of theatrical cruelty. "Any last words?" he adds coolly. In this same moment, a gentle sizzling sound starts up from high on a nearby roof.

  No one notices, and the downed man clears his throat to speak.

  "Once again… I will maintain our innocence. My son - was - kidnapped!" he objects.

 

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