Fantasy The Fall of the Clock Tower

[Hathelian]

The Fall of the Clock Tower

~*~
​

As the sun was about to reach the peak of its noon crest over the capital of Concordia, Kona sat at his desk, leaning into his left palm thoughtfully. He let his pen hover over the inkwell, as if doing so would allow this sentence to write itself. "Fer," the rabbit repeated to himself quietly. "Fer, fer, fer..." It was one of the more vexing words to translate from the Seilan language, meant to emphasize the subject in whatever sentence contained it. In this case, it was emphasizing the importance of the Seilan government's limit on lumber exports, and that the government of Concordia would need to source lumber from elsewhere until their limit would reset the following month. Such a minor nuance in translation might have seemed insignificant to most, but this was Kona's job: to delicately toe the line between accuracy and etiquette, and to ensure that no bad blood would arise between his mother nation and his new home. It was a thankless job; even the Seilan ambassador himself was unaware of how skillfully Kona did this, as his understanding of Concordian was poor by comparison.

Eventually, Kona dipped his pen in ink and wrote out his best attempt at the translation: "It is of vital importance that these trade limits be adhered to, both for the protection of the Seilan ecosystem, and to maintain the quality our neighbors have come to expect from Seilan wood." It wasn't perfect, but it was the best approximation Kona could muster after spending nearly half an hour on that sentence alone. He set the pen in its holder and let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair to stretch. It was at that moment that his supervisor, Kálín, opened the door to his office.

"Kona," he said, nearly causing the younger rabbit to fall out of his chair in surprise. "Kiél di feilúm." The ambassador left the door open as he returned to his desk, beckoning his scribe to come in.

Kona gingerly took a seat after he entered the office. "Ai, Ínalsed?"

Kálín reached into one of the larger drawers in his desk and removed a medium-sized box which rattled as he set it on the table. In Seilan he explained, "I've just received the compound letter casts from Erla Typeworks. I need you to bring these to the print shop where you brought the implement manifests last week; we need them copied as soon as possible for correspondence." He handed the box to Kona who looked down at it in curiosity. It was much heavier than it looked. Opening it up, he saw that it was filled with metal dies for the various consonant-letter pairings in the Seilan language. "Frankly, it speaks to the quality of this print shop that they would have Seilan characters but no compounds...but I digress."

Kona was used to these sorts of comments from his superior. Even when Concordian businesses tried their best to accommodate the embassy, Kálín always managed to find an imperfection to complain about. Shutting the box, Kona nodded. "Of course, ambassador. I'll do it right away." He stood, cradling the box as he returned to his own desk. He tucked it inside his shoulder bag, picked up his staff, and made his way out of the lavish building and onto the streets below.

Despite how most people would perceive this task, Kona loved running little errands like this. It was always a nice break from the drudgery of his job, and it allowed him to see the city during the day when he was usually trapped at work. He knew the path to the print shop well, having not only used their services for his work, but also independently as he made copies of his healing magic research for preservation. Plus, as a rabbit, he loved the sounds of the shop: the soft metal clicking of ink rollers against printing pads, the jingling of the letter dies as they were inserted into the matrices, the soft thud of full pages being imprinted on fresh paper...it might as well have been music for all of the joy it brought him. It was on days like this that Kona imagined himself working at the print shop, able to use his attention to detail for work that wasn't as mentally taxing as translation.

Kona took his time as he made his way down the opulent main street where the embassy was located, across a few more streets into the market district, and then finally into the industrial district which held the print shop. As he was about to step inside, his ears perked up. The thunderous ringing of the capitol clock tower's bell meant that it was now noon. In just a few hours, Kona would finally be free for more than one day, his first break in weeks.

~*~​

 

[sweetcinnamonwaves]

[ ˚:✧ Hathelian ]​

In a quiet place along the river under a stone bridge, a quill scratched the last of its ink into a sheet of freshly pressed paper:


"Aiolus,

How have you faired since my last letter? I can only wonder by your lack of response that you are upholding your duty to Our Sovereign Lady, as you always have. I pray that you are not working yourself to the bone, seeing I am no longer there to scold you otherwise.

As for me, in ways I could not have possibly foreseen -- I am here at last in the land of Man and Elf. Yet, I have found my journey halted. While I have crossed into the mainland through the longboats passing through the Silver Sea, I have found myself without a guide now. The fisher folk who docked me in Evergreen refused to see me past the riverbend. For what reason, I'm not fully certain. This is a strange land, with an equally strange people. They do not trust the dark woods like the Alopae. Where you and I would traverse in dens, they have dens of their own instead lit by torchlit and wildfire.

If there are other Foxkin, they have not revealed themselves. The only one present is myself. Some days it truly feels as if I am the last of a lost race. All of the faces I have seen in the road are cold. But I know these eyes. They belong to those who have known war and grief and the greatest loss. In that regard, we are not so different from Men. For them, it is the Elves as to us it is the Timbernese."

Suddenly, the tip of the quill would bend with a soft creak as tiny droplets of black ink dotted the base of the page. "Blast it all." The paladin muttered under his breath as turned the quill in his grasp, licking it's tip and testing it's color along the rim. The view around him stirred a calm within the beast, a one with nature he was raised to crave. The river sounds, the scent of elderberry brush, the distant birds in the elm trees lining the shore; but he could not stay for much longer. Aside from his need for supplies in Concordia, Teumessia's Wind was calling him.

"I am almost out of ink. The capital is nearby. Our Lady willing, I plan to refuel my supplies and continue northbound by the morrow. If you wish to reach me, send a raven to the outpost in Goldmare."

His ear twitched at that. Goldmare. Mmm, where do humans find such names for their settlements?

"Wherever you are in Nirath, may you think of me. In that way, we are still together as den brothers running free like She Whom The Wind Chases. Though a sea may separate us, your memory still brings me warmth in this cold, cruel land.

Forever Free,
Your Den Brother, Tyronius."


Tyronius closed his leather journal with a soft fluttering clap as the letter was carefully folded by armored hands and placed in a satchel beside him. A soft huff left him, a cool chilly mist leaving his mouth to vanish into the air. He did not want to go to Concordia. After a moment's paused, he allowed his eyes to close for a moment. His snout raised upwards to sniff at the air when a distant breeze wafted through the bridge's open tunnel to tickle his whiskers and the tuft along his ears.

Fortune favors the Free. It is known.

Alone in this strange land, he had but himself and the laughter of His Lady to follow. If Teumessia could laugh in the face of danger, if she could evade a fate written for her and pave her own; then so could he. If he wanted it. He wanted this, more than he has wanted anything for as long as he could remember. He: Tyronius of Nirath, Vigilant of Teumessia, had not left his home and his family to cower under a bridge while the world passed him by.

In one quick motion, the paladin grasped his satchel in one hand and his gilded helm in the other. A shake of his fur to allow the dewdrops to return to the grass he had settled himself in and Tyronius made quick work of the makeshift camp he had made the night before. Until there was little sign of where he once was, back on the road again. Only this time, the wind took his steady footsteps to Concordia as the bell tower struck it's twelfth cord.

 

[Hathelian]

~*~​

The door chime rang as Kona entered the print shop. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he admired the sonorous beauty that surrounded him. The sounds were soft, but they were punctuated. They were full of life. They felt like sparks and tasted of lemongrass; and if he could have it his way, Kona would listen to them for hours.

"Maybe I should close up shop and start sellin' rabbit lures since I seem to be so good at it," a familiar voice called from the counter.

Kona snapped out of his near-trance and stepped forward. "My apologies, Mara. How are you today?"

The auburn-haired middle-aged woman chuckled and leaned forward, setting both elbows on the counter. "Alouín, Kona. Doin' well enough, I have to say. A bit of a slow day, if you can believe that. What brings you in this time, business or pleasure?"

"Business, sadly," Kona said with a slight smile as he took the box from his shoulder bag and placed it before the shop owner. Mara was one of his favorite humans; although she often teased him, it never felt malicious. When it came to humans, Kona often found it difficult to discern their intent, but Mara enjoyed his visits to the shop. "I received the compound letter dies I mentioned the last time I was here. Do you still have the manifests?"

Standing straight again, Mara shook her head and opened the box. "Oh, we certainly do! Didn't even disassemble the matrix after you left. With all those numbers and tables, there was no way we were going to start it again from scratch." She pinched a few of the dies in her fingers and lifted them to her eyes to ensure they were the proper size and shape. "I s'pose your ancestors didn't imagining printing presses when they came up with their writing system, did they?"

Kona laughed. "It used to be much worse! I'm sorry for the hassle, though."

"No need for sorries when you're givin' me business, friend." She was about to bring the box to one of the typesetting tables when she remembered something. "Oh, that's right - Kona, did you remember to bring a..."

Kona was already reaching into his bag to fetch his journal. "Yes, I have it here!" Flipping it open, he pressed it against the counter with his left hand and tore a page out with precision. Written on it was a reference guide for which compound letters represented specific consonant-vowel pairings. He offered it to her with both hands, a gesture meant to show appreciation in Seila. "I hope this is clear enough."

Giving it a quick look over, Mara smirked. It was exactly as thorough and organized as she had come to expect from the rabbit. "I think I can manage. It'll be about an hour and a half to get the dies swapped out and the prints finished. Come back when the bell strikes one just to be sure there are no more hiccups, though."

With that, Kona thanked Mara and stepped out of the shop. He would have loved to stay and enjoy the sounds, but the day was too beautiful for him to pass up an opportunity like this.

~*~​

 

[sweetcinnamonwaves]

[ ˚:✧ Hathelian ]​

Traversing across fields laden with velvet moss, their verdant blades swayed with each step the paladin took across the clearing. He used his arm to push away the branches of the minty pines, as he passed underneath their dewy tips and reached the cobblestone path leading to the city gates. The entire valley opened before him like the cover of an old book. In one swift turn, and the fox caught sight of the shadowy mountains that stretched in the backdrop. The air smelt chilly and fresh with the river's mist, the last frost of the morning at last melting across the thatched rooftops of Concordia.

Closer in view, the city walls practically glowed with the warmth of summer –- a veil of sunlight shimmering between leaves to dance their shadows upon the above the cragged horizon, its light coloring the thatched rooftops in an amber glow. A warm welcome, indeed, to the first days of summer and to the incoming bounty from previous season's harvest.

Before he knew it, the decorate archway that had been the city gate's vanished behind him in stride. Gone away were the sounds of nature's bounty and present came the sounds of humanity bustling in all it's strange wonder. And as a dole of ivory mourning doves fled from their nests in the rooftops and glided over the domed rooftops, the city clock tower resounded it's final toll.

Of course there were sights and sounds sent Tyro's ears to twitch, their tips swiveling this way and that to greedily scoop up each vibration it could. It was the smells. His sharp pointed nose dipped upwards to take in the strange scents around him. Each soft exhale blew a thin veil of mist from his chilled snout to dissipate into the air.

He smelt pipping hot cinnamon bread as it was lifted from crinkling parchment to be sliced and served next to sweet rolls and fruit tarts in a window display. He smelt ash of a blacksmith's smelter, igniting in an ember glow before descended to darkness with each pull of the chain and puff of the bellow. And there was another smell... A strange smell. Familiar yet, not a sense he could quite pinpoint yet.

It smelt neither of that rich earthy pheromone that belonged to the children of man or that airy aroma of elven blood that smelt of flesh and magic.

Be it by Teumessia's guiding wind or his own instinctive curiosity to uncover the source, Tyronious of Nirath found himself turning east instead of west. Instead of making his way down the cobblestone road towards the port district, the paladin instead traversed up towards the square instead. The crowds of human folk grew in number among the bustle of business proprietary. While he felt the occasional stare from the corner of his eye, most of the townsfolk appeared to be focused in their chores and errands to pay much attention to him. Best to use such avoidance, even if it was unintentional, to his advantage.

As much as he despised his previous lifestyle, he had to admit -- knowing how to move quickly yet quietly did come in handy. Even in full armor, Tyro steadied his steps to be able to smooth weave between pressed bodies and slide around a jutted cart filled with fresh farmland produce. All the same, his hand remained pressed to the hilt of his sword underneath his cloak. Just because the majority made him feel unnoticed, didn't mean this was any excuse to lower his guard.

It was a good thing he had not. For in that moment as the paladin ducked his head under a canopy to reach the mainland street, a low rumble drew his attention. It came from around the corner, moving as fast as any sparrow, what appeared to be a courier dashing on his dapple stead with bundles of tied scrolls hung precariously in a large leather bag. He drove his horse down the roadway with little regard to who had to shuffle quickly out of his way, from the sharp glances and soft gasps of those who pulled themselves from his horse's gallop. But there was one who appeared as if he wouldn't be able to escape so quickly.

Well, he wasn't exactly like the other townsfolk, was he? That scent, finally revealed at last. It was a... Does his eyes deceive him? But no time to dwell on that. Not now. Tyro's ears went from slightly tucked to fully erect, "Ah, you! Seilan! Watch out!"

The horse was swift. But Tyronious made himself swifter. Before a flash thundering hooves could fully trample the scribe, the paladin crossed the distance and with his arm outstretched, grasped it firmly around Kona's waist to pull them both backwards against a shop wall. Right as they hit the wall and uprooted a basket of flowers standing outside of an alchemist's shop, the horse passed.

The paladin jerked his head in the direction of the rider, his eyes narrowing into a glare with teeth softly bared under the curl of his lip as the reckless human bellowed some obscenity crude to all Beastfolk. And as quickly as it had come, the disturbance in the square vanished in distant thundering steps. Tyro carefully pushed his shoulder off the shop wall to right himself, carefully not to step on the rabbit's feet or the discard flowers fluttering around them.

Up close, there was no no doubt that the scent he smelled earlier came from the Seilan. As with Men and Elves, Beastfolk possess their own scents. This one in particular. He smelt willowy; of something sweet. Of something once lost to the earth. Of that wilderness that thrives across the sea. Many Alopae would likely find this scent enticing; for all the wrong reasons. But for Tyro? Well. What felt like a time and a half, quickly came the realization that he was staring and not speaking. His arm was still clasped around the rabbit, and the paladin quickly relinquished his armored grip. Although he kept his arm extended in the occasion that Kona needed something to balance himself on. "Ah. Forgive my intrusion." He issued a quick apology, taking a few steps backwards to give Kona his space. "Are you alright?"

 

[Hathelian]

~*~
​

Despite his propensity for admiring sounds, switching from one environment to another had always been difficult for Kona. His ears would attune to one set of sounds; and then in an instant, he would be forced to process an entirely new ocean of aural stimuli. Because of this, as he was still trying to savor the soft, invigorating clicks and clacks of the print shop before they faded from his memory, the scribe lingered in identifying the noises which emanated from all directions outside. It was only once a specific sound disturbed his focus--a sound which started began as a rumble, and then grew to resemble an earthquake--that Kona looked up to see what was approaching him.

What Kona perceived next, albeit lasting all of five seconds in reality, felt endless. The shock of witnessing a horse barreling straight toward him; the jarring sensation of being embraced from behind and yanked backward; the brief weightlessness he felt before coming to a halt; and then finally, the scenery around him settling to reveal flashes of auburn and crimson.

Heart still racing, Kona took a series of short, shallow breaths. Someone had saved him. Someone was holding him. Someone was staring right at him. The residual shakiness in his vision soon gave way to a clear view: a fox. It was a fox of amber and cream fur, clad in armor with brilliant red detailing, who was now holding Kona close by his waist. Ultimately, it had been wise of the fox to leave his palm against the wall to offer support, as Kona immediately set a hand on his forearm to steady himself. This would come as a surprise to anyone watching, given that rabbits--especially Seilan rabbits--tended to be wary of foxkin. Certainly, Kona had seen a handful of foxkin in his lifetime; but he had never spoken to one, let alone been swept away from an unceremonious trampling by one.

Perhaps Kona, too, bore some degree of suspicion against foxes; but if he did, he certainly didn't have the room to consider it in the moment.

Then, the fox spoke. His voice cut through Kona's disorientation, leaving the rabbit with a single, clear thought: caramel. He was hearing caramel. A rich, deep texture, simultaneously nuanced but comforting. It was golden brown, just like many of the subtle flecks of color which comprised the fox's fur. It was rare to find someone with a voice so well suited to them.

Kona let go of the fox's arm as he brought it back to his side. What was it he had asked again? Whether he was alright? It was far too early to tell; but given his status as a representative of Seila, Kona decided it would be best not to further inconvenience this kind stranger.

"Y-yes," he said, unconvincingly. "I am so sorry; I was being careless. I didn't mean to make you risk yourself like that." Taking note of his surroundings, Kona sighed at himself in disappointment. "Oh, and look at the mess I’ve made..." He crouched to pick up the flowers lost in the shuffle. It was good that Kona didn't have much spare time for lavish spending, because now he would have to pay for damaging a shopkeeper's property.

Kona wanted to inspect his savior's face further, but his gaze remained locked on the ground. He was a representative of Seila - how might this reflect on him if this stranger knew who he was?

"I truly apologize - I will pay for all of this right away," Kona said professionally. And then, after a moment, "...And thank you for coming to my aid."

~*~​