Completed The City Maze

[Faradae]

Alvadas-Lhavit
70th of Winter, 516 AV

As her days in Alvadas ticked by, Faradae began to take deliveries from house to house to make a living. After her initial encounter with Imass in Nyka, she had started to introduce herself as a “courier”, despite the fact that she had never officially been introduced into the job by anyone. It felt like the natural thing to do, since it went so well with her lifestyle of constant travel. While on a constant move, choosing her route through the deliveries she had to make kept her financially independent. Now that she stayed in one city for more than a season, she needed to find a slightly different way to pay her bills. Therefore, she tried to do what other, regular couriers did: Take parcels and letters from house to house. In the same city.

While this might have been a sound plan in any other place, Faradae had unfortunately chosen Alvadas as her first semi-constant residence. In other words, the one city where deliveries were anything but simple. She always found her way back to the Wolf’s Cave after a bit of a struggle (perhaps the Ionu was taking a pity after hours of restless searching, when she was ready to drop into any street corner), but other people’s homes were a completely different story.

She had tucked three envelopes into the outermost pocket of her backpack, and she had no idea where to start. She had received two of them at the start of the week, and carried them around ever since, hoping that she would somehow stumble across the addressees, to no avail. The third letter had been placed in front of her door that very morning. It was a dark red, marbled envelope, wax-sealed. The parchment rustled invitingly when she placed it with the other two and she had to pull herself together not to open it up and read its secrets. There was no way she could recreate its seal.

The residents of Alvadas knew their city and were patient when it came to their deliveries, a fact Faradae was grateful for. Taking time, however, was not going to pay her bills. She simply could not afford it. On top of that, when she moved on, she could hardly take all the remaining letters with her, and labelling them “lost” and moving on was against her pride. She needed to figure out a way to get those letters where they were supposed to go, or at least have a wayfinding routine in the city of deceit. She had heard that some people used their keys to find their homes. Maybe she could find out how those keys worked. Maybe there was a way to link a letter to the person it was addressed at? It was likely that the keys were linked directly to their locks, and that the connection between a name on a piece of paper and the person that name belonged to was too abstract, but in Alvadas, nothing seemed completely unthinkable.

[Faradae]

Stepping out of the front door of the inn, Faradae looked left and right.
Alvadas-Miz had given her a bit of geographical general education. While she guessed that none of it was all too accurate, at least she knew the most characteristic things about each region now. The darkness that engulfed the street told her that this was Alvadas-Lhavit. Faradae thought it unlikely that in actual Lhavit, day and night changed as frequently as they did in Ionu’s version of it, but even if that was the case, the glimpse of the magic city that she had gotten here was enough to convince her that the Star of Kalea was a place she wanted to see with her own very eyes. Just as her eyes were adjusting to the glow of the street, the sky began to lighten up a little. It was dawning. For the next four bells, this was daytime-Alvadas-Lhavit. What a tongue twister.

Faradae shouldered her pack and strolled down the road that was taking an immediate right turn right in front of the inn door. Her mind was focused on the letters she carried, especially the new, red one. A small note had come with it, telling her to take it to one “Keyon Leyhol”. The name did not ring any bells, which was unsurprising. In order to have a chance to find something in Alvadas, however, Faradae found it easiest to concentrate on the place or thing she wanted to reach as she walked. Sometimes entrances felt especially inviting or an arch just begged to be stepped through, and when she did, she found herself right in front of the facility she had been trying to find. From others, she had learnt to follow the illusions, too. They were Ionu’s tool of trade, and sometimes the god used them to nudge people in the right direction. Or the completely opposite one, it depended.

Fara knew next to nothing about the letter that she was going to deliver. Stopping near a house with a brilliant white front, she pulled the letter out of her backpack, now a little crumpled near the edges, and looked it over once more. Nothing was written on it, not even a name. The parchment had the colour of dried blood; the seal was a tad lighter. It looked more mysterious than anything Fara had ever received. What might it be? A love letter, sent by a secret admirer? The reminder to keep an oath, or else? But who would send that by random courier? Absent-mindedly, she flattened the edges that had crinkled slightly in her pack. She was getting nowhere with this.

Unhappily, she pushed the letter back into the pocket she had taken it from and pulled out a different one, plain and simple. It had “Branwen Ginnis” written across the front in an elegant hand. No seal, it was simply tucked in. Maybe…

Faradae made up her mind, turned to face the wall and opened the envelope.

[Faradae]

“My dearest Bran,

I bear bad news. The remedy you sent could not save mother. In fact, I think it worsened her condition. (…) not stop crying. Evin tried to comfort her, but she (…) even hear him. We don’t know how long (…) came to us now, I fear you might come too late.
Father is devastated and Myrana has not been speaking for days. She is always by mother’s side.

With mother’s income (…) washing gone and father too frail to work the fields, (…) keep the house. Bran, we don’t know what to do anymore. Have the gods left us? Is there anything you can do for us?”
(…)

Faradae put the tear-smudged letter down. There was more, but she stopped reading. As she looked up, a single tear rolled down her cheek. This was unfair on so many levels.

It was unfair that Bran’s mother was dying (whoever Bran was) and that Bran did not get to be there. It was unfair that she was receiving the letter late because Faradae could not find her way around. And it was unfair that Fara had to deliver such a letter in the first place. Had she not opened it, it would not have mattered to her. But she had opened it and now she felt guilty. If she found Branwen, gave them the letter, and left them alone with their sorrow, she would feel bad. If she did not deliver it to evade the situation, she would feel worse. Offering comfort meant admitting she had opened a letter that was not hers to open, and that was not an option.

Faradae blinked a second tear away, folded the letter a bit too quickly and stuffed it back into its envelope. Instead of hiding it in her backpack, though, she clutched it in her left hand and started walking back the road she had come from. She was going to find the person who had given her this letter, a sailor who also lived in the Wolf’s Cave while his ship anchored in Alvadas, and tell him to find someone else to get it to its destination. She did not need to name a reason. It was the only way she could avoid an awful situation, and while it was not going to get her any rewards, at least she would not have to be the bearer of bad news or feel the weight of said news on her shoulders as she searched for Branwen for weeks on end.

As she turned the corner, the inn was gone. Faradae cursed under her breath. Of course Ionu was not going to make it easy for her. She had no magical key to pull her back, but maybe she could find the sailor elsewhere. Near the harbour, for example. Wasn’t that where sailors went? All she needed to find now was the sanity centre and the Gaping Maw, the fix points in this city maze.

[Faradae]

When Faradae passed a large white building with rows of columns in front of it (all of which were covered in sparkling diamonds), she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye. Something was staining the façade like a black splotch of ink. When she turned her head, it was gone, but there was an arch there that she had not seen before. Curious, she stepped through.

The arch led into a small tunnel underneath the building and when Fara emerged on the other side, it was raining. Tucking her hair behind her ears indignantly, she trudged on. Was this all her inquisitiveness would ever bring her? Trouble and wet hair? The entire street appeared to be painted with buckets of black and white paint, blended into various shades of grey by the rain. In fact, there were passages on the walls that seemed to flow into each other with each droplet that landed on them. The entire row was the very image of tristesse.

Faradae, who had hunched her shoulders to shield her neck against the cold, stopped in her track when something distinctly out of place was blown past by the wind. It was a bright red scarf, a little bit soggy, but otherwise intact. She picked it up and smelled it. It held the smell of a long, wet day with a whiff of flowers that Faradae knew but could not distinguish. She liked it, so she stuffed it into her backpack, with a small fringe poking out like a warning signal. It was too wet to wind around her neck.

She tried to turn a few corners to escape the rain, but if anything, its strength increased. Then she turned back and tried to find the arch she had come through, to get back on track to the city gate, but it was gone. She was soaked by then and ready to spend the rest of the day by a fireplace.

When she opened her eyes from a sneeze and a yawn, she spotted a great white banner that someone had written on and hung from a window. It read “in loving memory of T.G.” There was a crooked flower painted underneath. It had heart-shaped leaves and was dark blue. After a few ticks, she recognized it to be a violet.

A violet! Now she remembered. That was what she had smelled on the scarf, too.

She did not know quite what she was doing when she approached the door, but she felt like it was the right thing to do. The wood was damp when she knocked her fist against it. Half a chime passed and she was ready to retreat when a woman opened the door just a crack. Her eyes, blue and rimmed with black kohl, stared at Fara through a gap. “Yes?” Faradae could feel more questions hanging in the air. Who are you? What do you want? Why do you disturb me? And more prominently, Why don’t you just leave?

[Faradae]

“Branwen?” Faradae asked out of the blue. “Branwen Ginnis?”

A look of puzzlement painted itself on the woman’s face. “How do you… No matter.” She turned around to call into the house. “Lady Ginnis? There’s a visitor!”

Several chimes passed and Faradae stepped uncomfortably from one foot onto the other, not entirely sure what to expect. The woman who had opened the door had not moved and eyed her from head to toe, but she said nothing.

After half an eternity, the door opened wider and light fell into the corridor that led further into the flat. A second woman appeared, neither old nor young and with a face much kinder than that of the woman who had opened the door. Branwen Ginnis was fair-skinned, not especially pretty and her hair framed her face in lose brown strands that could do with a wash. She wore a white shirt and long, shockingly red scarf. Her eyes were firmly shut.

“What can I do for you?”, she asked.

Faradae needed a moment to sort her thoughts. After a brief pause, she started explaining herself. “I’m a… courier. I was given this letter to you, so I followed the…” The illusions? The signs? “There was blackness. And a scarf.” She realized that what she was saying raised more questions than it answered so she proceeded to pull the scarf she had found out of her pocket and handed it to Branwen. It matched the colour of her skirt. “Is it yours?”

Branwen opened her eyes, and when she did so, Faradae stifled a gasp. While her left eye was fine, the right one was clouded over. It looked like ice on a lake in winter. The woman deliberately overlooked her alarm. “How curious. I thought it was in my wardrobe, but apparently…” she sniffed the garment, and when the scent of violets drifted over, she nodded. “…it is not.” She focused her good eye on Faradae. “What news do you bring, courier?”

Faradae averted her gaze and stared at her boot tips while trying to come up with a way to make this less painful. When she looked back up, Branwen’s own eyes mirrored her worry. She could have handed her the letter at this point and left, but in that instant, she decided not to. “May I come in?”, she blurted instead.

Branwen said nothing. She simply took a step back and gestured for Faradae to come in. The Kelvic stepped into the hallway and followed the woman through a set of doors into a wide living room with many windows. Outside, it was still raining. The woman who had first greeted her at the door sat in a rocking chair by the cold fireplace and watched their approach gloomily. Branwen led Fara to a set of chairs arranged around a small, round table and, once they had settled down, addressed the other woman, apparently some sort of housekeeper, asking her to bring some tea.

As the silence between them stretched, Faradae began to wonder whether coming in had truly been a good idea. Not only would demanding payment and leaving have been time- and potentially trouble-saving, but she also started to get involved on a personal level, something she felt she shouldn’t do while working. As a courier, you deliver and you don’t ask questions. You don’t get involved. It was easier that way. The entire situation was getting too uncomfortable for her liking. She was sitting in a woman’s living room, being served tea and treated as a guest, while she was actually a complete stranger about to deliver a death message.

[Faradae]

As if called, Tirna appeared from the neighbouring room, carrying a tray with two cups and a teapot. She set it down on the table and proceeded to serve tea to Branwen, but only set a cup down a little too fast before Fara without filling it. The glances she shot her were not exceptionally friendly.

Faradae waited for her to leave before uncomfortably pouring herself a cup and tasting the beverage. The tea was hot enough to burn the tip of her tongue and too bitter for her to like. She did not comment about it to Branwen, who stared into her own cup with her good eye. “Now, courier. What message have you brought into my house?”

Fara reached for her backpack that she had set down beside her chair and fished the letter out with shaky hands. “I…opened it.” She fully expected to be thrown out, but Branwen just waited for her to elaborate. She spoke quickly. “I’m sorry. I had no idea how to find you, so I hoped reading it would help me. And it did, in a way.” She put the letter down in front pf her, right next to the cup of tea, not ready to say whatever she was going to say now. “From all that I haven’t said, you probably know that the news aren’t the good sort.” She paused briefly. “Once I knew that the letter wasn’t happy, I did not want to deliver it anymore. I did not want to be the bearer of bad news and I knew I wouldn’t be able to deliver it with a happy face, so you’d know I had opened it and I’d be in trouble. And as soon as I’d made that decision, the city began to urge me towards you.” She sighed. “I know what I did is wrong.”

“But what was the message?”, Branwen asked. When Faradae tried to slide the letter over, she stopped her. “No, I want to hear it from you.”

This was the hard part. “Your mother might be dying.”

Branwen blinked a few times and Faradae wondered whether there were tears in her eyes. Her voice trembled the slightest bit when she spoke. “Thank you.”

“Pardon?” Had this woman just thanked her for telling her that a close family member was dying? This day kept becoming stranger.

“My mother is very sick; she has been for a long time. I knew she was going to die soon and I feared the day more than anything. Thank you for telling the truth, and thank you for telling me personally. Thank you for telling me over tea and for not letting me take this alone.”

“But you have Tirna”, Faradae said, perplexed. “You should have tea and grieve with her, not a courier.”

“Tirna hates my mother”, Branwen explained and pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket. “I have nobody to speak to about this. I’m grateful you read my letter. I’m grateful you’re here to lend me an ear.”

They sat around the table for another bell and the tea grew cold in Faradae’s pot. Branwen told her about the family she had left behind when she was almost still a child, driven by the same adventurous nature that Faradae possessed and conflicts between herself and her siblings that has dissipated once she was gone. She had found work in a small spinning mill until the day when a series of misfortunes had ended with a spindle in her eye. She told her about her mother’s conditions, about the letters her and her brother exchanged, about the couriers at the doorstep, the fleeting greetings. Faradae listened silently and with more patience than she had deemed herself capable of. Her mind drifted from time to time.

She had learnt from her experiences as a courier that sometimes, her job did not have to be impersonal. Sometimes it was better to learn the story behind a delivery. Sometimes a delivery was not the letter, but the words that came with it. Sometimes, a job meant making a friend, sometimes it meant trouble.

Today, it meant bitter tea, listening and a long hug before she left Branwen Ginnis’ house to give the woman space for her grief.

“If Ionu ever brings you back to my house,” Branwen told her, “stop by for a cup of tea.”

[Chameleon]

GRADE

XP

• Land Navigation: 1XP
• Observation: 3XP
• Socialisation: 2XP

LORES

• Alvadas-Lhavit: Changes from night and day quickly
• Courier: Natural job to have
• Courier: Doesn't have to be impersonal
• Land Navigation: Following illusions
• Land Navigation: Going where feels right
• The mysterious red letter

OTHERS

This was a really nice read, I enjoyed learning about the story behind the letter. And that red letter... Please tell me there's more about that, because I want to read more!

Hopefully, the rewards I've given should be what you were looking for, but if there are any problems at all, just send me a PM and I'd be more than happy to sort it out for you!