Memories of strange dream lingered in my mind as I awoke. My parents had discovered my phone number and began bombarding me with text messages that demanded my presence. They didn't explain what I was needed for, but I decided to go see them to get them to stop invading my life again, keeping a plot to access their phones in secret in my back pocket. I was eager to delete my number from their phones. My shoes were nowhere to be found, no matter how many times I searched my apartment. The housemates were telling me not to give in to their demands; I wanted to listen, but doing so would only egg my parents on further. I knew their dances, their tangled webs. Exasperated and stressed, I finally decided to leave my shoes, and only then did I locate my shoes atop the hood of my car. The motions of retrieving my shoes caused seas of spiders to scurry out of my shoes, up my arms, and all over my body. This woke me up, breathing heavily with a soaring heart rate. The panic in my blood made the room feel blisteringly hot. I sought solace in opening the window so a chill could chase this feeling away. Today couldn't be derailed by something like this; I had important things to do, things that were just for me.
There was no telling what time it was. I expected the highest technology of discerning such things lay in the hands of sundials, which was a problem, as there was no sun yet. "Fuck... fuck," I whispered in opposition to the idea of performing the day's planned activities after inadequate sleep. This was a potent recipe for a downward spiral. A distraction, I needed a distraction. I retrieved the notes I had taken last night regarding Prestidigitation and began a session of study. The rigors of conceptual thought dulled the adrenaline pumping through me, but one element of my dream haunted me beyond explanation: I didn't have my scales in my dream. My new face was as it had been before. I looked over my scaled hands, how they caught the residual light of the stars above and street lamps below, and wondered which of my forms would be the one I enjoyed more. My scales and apparent unusual coloration painted me as, well, unusual, but it felt so much more interesting than the way I had looked before. I was an entirely different creature now. I was an entirely different species. Humanity was familiar, far less interesting, but far less unique. I wondered if Keff or Sekvi would have taken any notice of me if I had arrived in this world as a human. That thought felt as if it were discounting the trust Keff and Sekvi had rightfully earned in my mind. It also felt vaguely racist. Specieist? I supposed humanity was only less 'interesting' from my strange and warped point of view. Was my condition simply a symptom of being so uncomfortable on Earth?
I made a bit more progress in my study before I noticed the sun peek over the mountains. This told me that I hadn't missed much sleep at all, and I used that realization to still my various anxieties of the day that had been running rampant in my mind since I'd woken up this morning. I closed the window and relocated to my bed as Prestidigitation ebbed into the vacuum my panic had left in its wake. Magic was proving to be a challenging concept to me. When I imagined casting a spell, I imagined it doing one thing, and the expansion of functionality would be the aspect that could branch into different outcomes. Instead, this spell, if I was reading the implications of its construction correctly, was inherently multifaceted. What were the connotations of this? Sekvi had said that teaching me this cantrip was to do me a service, their due diligence as a mage. A diversified toolkit had its own merits, but it was a doozy of a first spell to learn. I hoped that I could soon stand atop this metaphorical mountain and look down upon how far I had climbed. I also hoped that all of the work it took to understand this spell would be worth it. This was only my first step into the world of Arcane casting, and Transmutation was already shifting my perspectives. The right choice of magical pursuit had seemingly been made, at least.
The sun had freed itself from the tyranny of piled earth by the time I decided that a bath was more immediate a concern than study. Breakfast was simple: a biscuit and a fruit salad that contained nothing I recognized. I carefully sampled each of the different pieces in hopes that they wouldn't cause me an allergic reaction. Each piece tasted different, and largely mild, save the yellow fruit that tasted like a cross between a jalapeño pepper and a green apple. It was sour, sweet and spicy all in one, as well as my favorite of the bowl. An inquiry of this fruit led the staff to impart its name to me: the sparkdrop fruit, specifically a type that was ripened in cold air, which meant this particular variant was seasonal. I would eat as much of it as I possibly could before it was no longer available. I passed a gold to the receptionist to ensure my room for another night, and asked with no small amount of embarrassment if they knew where I could find a bath. A bathhouse was located across the square, I was told, and that it was a favorite of travelers to the local area. Profuse thanks were provided as I departed for said bathhouse. It was a much larger building than I'd anticipated, so much so that I wondered if I was in the right place. I opened the door regardless and stepped inside.
Pleasant floral scents immediately met my nose, light enough to be inoffensive. If this establishment had been on Earth, Bed Bath & Beyond would have liquidated itself much sooner. The construction was typical of the area: hardwoods and stone, built as well as the inn, if not better. The openness of the entryway gave me the impression that it was a rather nice establishment for the area. Traffic was light, and this let me approach the counter without hesitation. I found another bird person behind the counter. His rich brown and white feathers ran a risk of enrapturing my attention. The same greeting the avian customer at the blacksmith had offered me was repeated as I approached; I returned the gesture and continued to wonder what it meant. "Good morning. Do I need to make an appointment to schedule a bath?"
"Not at all," he replied, and indicated a board of service behind him. "We have baths open at the moment."
"Perfect. I would like to have one bath." I nearly lost my nerve when I heard that combination of words spill out of my mouth. I pretended to look over the board as if I had suddenly sprouted the ability to read this world's script.
"Alright, one silver for a bath, and two if you'd like us to clean your clothes while you bathe." My mouth parted slightly in surprise. This was a proposition I couldn't bring myself to refuse. I dug two silver coins out of my pocket so quickly that I nearly dropped them. "Thank you, Ma'am. Our changing rooms are in the first door on the right; you'll find everything you need in there. Your bath will be the third door on the left."
"Thank you, too." The interaction was painless; with matters like these, I had expected them to be much more complicated. I found robes and towels inside the room on the right, as well as pieces of cloth that smelled like they were soaked in mint oil. Strangers were inside the room with me. I wasn't especially concerned until I noticed the co-ed nature of the establishment and far too much skin in the periphery of my sight. Oh no. If the changing rooms weren't private, then the baths likely weren't, either. Far from the refreshment I had expected to find in this hellish place, I had walked right into the maw of my worst nightmares. I would call too much attention to myself if I gave into panic, so I had to think quickly. With some awkward maneuvering while facing the wall, and my tail held low, I felt I had kept myself covered enough to slip into my robe unnoticed. No one screamed or attacked me, so I must have been smooth enough to keep myself safe; I felt compelled to thank the stars, goodness, or whatever force was owed due gratitude. I ruminated over asking for my money back or escaping through a window as I folded my clothes and placed them on a white wooden tray, the same as the others in the room. Being known as a mentally ill, transgender dragonborn that had jumped through the window felt like a reputation that would stick in a town like this, which would bring far worse trouble down the line. My fate was sealed: it was time to take a bath.
I surveyed the room before me as I formed a plan. It was mercifully empty, but I wasn't sure how long it was to remain so. There was a simple, circular pool of water that filled the middle of the room, with personal grooming stations off to the side. Mirrors, various tools, and scented liquids were all ready for use. I determined that there was no time like the present and carefully slipped into the pleasantly warm, unscented water once I'd disrobed. It felt nice. There weren't any sponges for me to use, which makes sense, given that they could not be hygienically shared between patrons, but I had found disposable strips of rough fabric that may do well enough for my scales. I set to work with a palmed piece of this fabric and scrubbed hard at first, assuming that harder was better when it came to scales. I quickly found this was not the case, given the light scratches I had given the scales on my forearm, and eased the pressure. This provided much more favorable results. My silent, hurried focus was only interrupted by the time I had finished my left arm and leg. I started at the sound of the door opening and turned to see Betiara of all people, who, by the look of her, didn't expect to run into me, either. What was more concerning, however, was that she had already slung her robe off of her shoulder. My eyes had averted quickly, but not too quickly to notice that she was positively built. "Morning."
"Morning," I answered, and did my best to appear unconcerned as I moved my attention to my opposite arm. Both of my legs would be required for the special maneuver. The captain of the guard maintained a few feet between us as she joined me in the bath.
"So, you like it here, new girl?"
"It's, nice. I'm grateful the soaps aren't added directly to the water. F-for my scales." It was so hard to keep my composure as I met Betiara's intimidating gaze.
"Haha, I meant the town."
"Oh. It's, nice, too. The people seem to be kind."
"If you got Keff's attention, you'll be right at home."
"I hope so." Silence lapsed while I tended to my arm. My scales, already eager to reflect light, took on a beautiful layer of transparent clarity when wet. I couldn't help but smile as I examined my arm.
"Where are you from?" Betiara asked in a casual tone while she similarly tended to her arms. I knew I had to answer this question carefully; it was likely part of her job to appraise new arrivals to the town, especially one as peculiar as I was.
"The desert. Originally. A small town... Arizzonah."
"Far from home, huh? What brought you all the way to the Valley?" I assumed this valley was named Karthos Valley. It would fit the naming scheme of the area. Her questioning, however, rattled me again. No plausible story came to mind, so I decided the mystery of truth would suffice.
"Random chance, honestly."
"Life is funny like that. Want me to get your back?"
"G-g-, do what??" My eyes flicked over to Betiara, who remained composed in contrast with my clear panic. I had dropped the ball; my metaphorical non-animal product goose was cooked.
"Oh, okay. I get it."
"What?" Betiara wore a satisfied smirk as she returned her attention to her bathing. I became only more flustered.
"You're one of those rich girls that gets private baths. I imagine you were on one of your tours until you ran out of money, or got robbed, and this was the closest town. You get used to it; no one here's going to hurt you. It's only a question of whether Keff or I will get to them first." Well, one of those evaluations was correct.
"I'm not rich," I countered with a chuff of exasperation. "I... was in a scrape and my friend cast a spell to send me elsewhere, and something must have gone wrong, because they sent me to the wrong place. This was the closest town. When you're lost, it's best to stay put until you're found by a rescue party, so, I'm just, kind of... here for now. I wasn't able to grab my stuff before I left, so I had to find work. I'm just really lucky to have found Keff first." My expression fell as I told this story. I hated lying, and I wasn't very good at it. Betiara eyed me with simultaneous surprise and scrutiny.
"I see." She declined to say anything more.
"I'm serious. I worked in a kitchen before I got here. Smithing is honestly a huge improvement." I could feel my blood pumping in my ears. Rather, I could feel my blood pumping in the internals of my ears.
"Okay, alright. I'm not trying to grill you. You're a new arrival; this is my job."
"I... trust that. Sorry. I'm not used to questions, I guess. Where I come from, everyone bathes privately. It's just the culture, so, you were right. This is my first time."
"Like I said, you'll get used to it. Are you sure you don't want me to get your back? Don't worry, that's a thing people do here." I felt locked into accepting her offer. Excusing myself would look suspicious, and doing it myself would indeed be difficult. If I was about to be knocked out and jailed for some odd suspicion, I had to trust that Keff and Sekvi would intercede on my behalf.
"Okay," I said in a tone of timidity. I took a deep breath and turned away from Betiara, holding the fabric I had been using up over my shoulder. I heard her approach, felt her take the paper, then... light pressure against my back and the sounds of sanding shook me back into reality.
"Have you met Sekvi yet? That looks like one of their necklaces." I felt a sting as I remembered my choice to keep the necklace on in case I had been approached by someone.
"Yeah, recently. I don't... speak the language and I never learned to read it, so they gave me this. It was nice of them both." I realized that I had an opportunity to potentially ingratiate myself, and seized upon it. "They're tutoring me in magic on a trial basis. They think I have some ability for it. I dunno."
"That sounds like Sekvi. They're a huge help to the town; if you're learning with them, you're in good hands," Betiara assured me. "They don't teach you Common in Arizzonah?"
"We don't get a lot of visitors. It's mostly dragonborn and, um, desert birds." I felt the fabric pause against my scales. I tensed up.
"The birds like to be called Aarakocra in most places."
"Oh! Sorry! I-, thanks for letting me know. I've been wondering... that. We're very isolated." The washing resumed. Betiara must have believed me, or at least not been suspicious of my ignorance. She completed scrubbing most of the scales on my back, politely avoiding getting too close to the base of my tail.
"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No, it wasn't, thank you, Betiara. Do you, um, want me to get your back?"
"Sure, new girl." The woman's yellow eyes flashed with approval as she turned around. I wondered if eyes of that color were a typical feature of what I assumed was a half-elf. Betiara's skin was rougher than I expected, but I was determined to show her the same cultural kindness she had showed me. As well, it could put me in a more favorable position with the guards. That could serve me well if I ever ran into trouble.
"Will I be 'new girl' forever?"
"You will until I learn what your name is."
"Madison Cantrell."
"Well met, Madison Cantrell from Arizzonah. I'm Betiara, no last name, captain of the Karthos Bend guard. My friends call me Tooth."
"Well met. Why do they call you that?" Betiara answered by looking over her shoulder with a grin, pointing out a deeply yellowed canine tooth, which stood out against the rest of her white teeth. I couldn't help but smile. It reminded me of a dog one of my neighbors had when I was a child.
"Ooh. Fierce."
"That's right," she asserted with a clear tone of pride. Once I was done washing Betiara's back, I offered the sponge over her shoulder. Her muscles, however, kept her from retrieving it from that angle, so she turned around to claim it. "Thanks." She looked over the sponge as she wrung it out, and as she did so, her gaze fixed downward for a moment. I looked down as well, only then realizing that I had had to get up onto my knees to comfortably reach her back. My special maneuver had yielded to the water. I scrambled back from her in a panic as I felt searing adrenaline course through me as it had after my nightmare this morning.
"I'm sorry, I, didn't think, anyone else, I, I can't breathe." It was true. My throat felt like it was closing up. I began to climb out of the water in favor of hiding myself with my robe and leaving town as quickly as I could. Betiara, however, looked on with confusion. She raised her hands as if to calm me down.
"Hey, breathe. It's, fine. Is that kind of thing... looked down on in Arizzonah?"
"D-, it, y-... yes?" I answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Wow. No offense, but your hometown sounds awful. Gender is a complicated thing, and most people get that. That's not a bad thing."
"It's not?" I felt my blood turn to concrete in my veins, as if my heart itself stopped cold. My body remained turned away from Betiara all the same; I wasn't ready to trust that an attack wasn't yet on its way.
"Of course not, Madison, relax. ...that's why you had to leave so quickly, wasn't it? Someone gave you a reason to be scared? Run so far away from home?" It wasn't the reason, but it was the reason I had been kicked out of my parents' home as a teenager. Since then, I had been sleeping on people's couches while working and taking hormones in secret, then regrettably distancing myself from them after changes started to show. This wasn't something I could be too careful about, especially in a place like this. I felt that Betiara's understanding response provided me the perfect cover to attain plausible deniability. A bout of self-loathing rose into my stomach and threatened to vacate itself alongside the contents of my breakfast.
"...yeah," I answered quietly. It was only a half-truth. I was terrified, shaking.
"I've traveled around. Trust me, there are several people like you in this town, and that's just the ones I know of. Nobody has a problem with something that's not a problem." Betiara's brow furrowed for a moment, easily able to sense my hesitation. "Look at Sekvi. They don't make a secret of it, and they're rightfully appreciated across the whole valley."
"I know they do diplomacy work a lot... that's why they had the necklace."
"Right. See, it's not a bad thing. That only comes from weird places like Arizzonah where people... that's unheard of, is what I'm trying to tell you." She returned to her bathing with a shrug. "I won't tell anybody. You don't have to be as open as Sekvi is about themself, but you also don't have to pretend that you're something you're not."
"Are... you sure?"
"If someone gives you trouble over it, come find me. The guard, the mayor, Sekvi, Keff, everyone in town will handle it if they have to. The only thing I hear about you is that you're nervous, but harmless. If you keep your nose clean and look after people, they'll do the same for you. I'm sure." Betiara sounded very certain. I couldn't refuse this kind of gesture. All the reassurance I was being shown by people... it made me feel horrible for requiring that of them. Should I be able to handle my own crises? This town didn't deserve my high maintenance requirements. I was a curse, a drain, a black hole unable to regulate myself. Worthless, awful, and undeserving.
"Okay. I. Sorry. It's very, different here." I began to settle into a calmer, masked self-loathing as I likewise settled myself in the water to continue finish washing myself. My arms, my chest and my tail still needed to be done. This place seemed like a paradise compared to what I was used to. Why was I here?
"No, I get it. And I know, I'm big, scary, and use my sword like a club. I don't bite. The guards' barracks are behind the mayor's office, 1st Spoke."
"Thank you, Betiara."
"Sure." We finished our respective baths at our own paces, idly chatting about nothing of consequence. The captain finished her bath first and departed, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I felt so torn. On one hand, I was a burden upon everyone I've met here up until now, either financially or emotionally. On the other, people here were caring. No one had been unkind to me. Believing either option felt like a trap; one was self-defeating, and the other was likely not true. I provided Keff passable work. Sekvi saw value in my unusual circumstance. Betiara... I wasn't sure about her motives. I had the feeling that there was more to her than she let on, but as someone that didn't have any discernable self-interest in being kind to me, I thought better of questioning her intent. I felt like I'd lived an entire day in an hour and change. I examined my scales after diligently drying myself off. They seemed dry, which meant Sekvi's advice was sound. This gave me a small boost that I desperately needed in the wake of lingering fear. I had faith that Prestidigitation would serve me well once I mastered it. Guilt bubbled in my stomach while I carefully maintained my horns with carul seed oil. A realization began to sink in: I had taken a public bath, I made a new acquaintance, and my being transgender had been discovered. I had survived all three terrors. It felt almost unreal.
My clothes were dry and spotlessly clean by the time I finished my new bathing routine. My notes had been removed and placed back inside my pockets, along with my money. I felt like an idiot for leaving such things unaccounted for. I returned to the mercifully empty changing room for its intended purpose, nearly having missed the fact that the minty pieces of fabric were meant to clean my teeth. Seeing to this need in the mirror revealed them all to be sharper than I had expected them to be. I really looked like a proper dragon. It was miraculous. After depositing my bathing materials in their places indicated by the staff, I left the bathhouse feeling much cleaner than I had entered. Now I needed to buy a bag and a second outfit. The tailor across the way wasted no time in providing me exactly those things, along with a collapsing umbrella, for seven silver pieces. The umbrella would keep my clothes, horns, scales and my new cloth bag dry. I thanked them for their help, departed, and realized I wasn't sure what to do with the rest of my day. I could study Prestidigitation, sure, but I didn't want to devote my entire day to sitting inside when the sun was shining. The very normal nature of that thought caught me off guard. It made me wonder what kind of person I would become here if I already sounded like someone that was normal.
I looked over my new outfit. It was very similar to my other dress, and featured an identical shirt and breeches, but this dress featured a color akin to Scooter blue. The tailor was adamant about having something to wear with a strong color to it; this was certainly that. Seeing the color next to my scales let it grow on me. Anyway, the responsible thing to do would be to fulfill my best efforts of study first, then cavort around town later. If I were to reverse that order, something could happen that could easily put me entirely out of the mental willingness to complete the spell, and I felt that I had had enough excitement for the morning. I ultimately decided that this was the correct course of action and returned to my room at the inn to pour myself into Prestidigation once more. I lay my notes out on the window sill and studied them closely, pacing around the room while I tried to fit these pieces together in a new way. Something wasn't quite fitting right. If one's intent had to be focused, and the spell could be used in multiple different ways, but to a limited extent, then how could one place its components together to allow such versatility? Would I simply have to guess and check what was possible to do with it? This cantrip felt more like a small collection of disparate effects than a cohesive individual spell. It frustrated me to be stuck like this, so much so that I settled upon my bed with a fwump of frustration. I would fluff that out of the mattress later.
"Why are you stupid?" I asked Prestidigitation as if it could hear me. The real question was why was I stupid for not being able to figure it out. Sekvi's words returned to me; it had taken them a week to master the spell, and I had only given myself a handful of hours so far. I couldn't expect perfection right away; after all, I was a chronic failure that never finished anything if I managed to do it right in the first place. My self-admonishment had gone a bit too far. I had to slow down. I had to think more and feel less. If this was all a new opportunity, and would lead to new discovery, how was that to change my perspective? What perspectives would change? I was already more inclined to treat myself better after feeling genuine kindness from other people and seeing myself with these lovely scales. Learning that it was somehow possible to fall into other existences entirely told me that the universe was larger than I had ever imagined. The implications of that fact were staggering at the very least. "You're not stupid. I'm sorry. I'm frustrated and scared of failure and of doing things wrong, and that's not your fault." I hoped the nature of the spell hadn't been offended by my misdirected upset. For all I knew, the spell had heard me, and my attitude was putting it off of coming together for me. I didn't know how magic worked.
I wondered if that was the key to figuring this out. I didn't know how magic worked. I hadn't yet become accustomed to the typical rigors of experienced spellcraft, which meant that I had an outsider's perspective on the matter. If this perspective was used correctly, I could see things in a way that others may not, and in doing so, embody the spirit of magic in myself by creating something of my own unique shape. My notes were given another look as I held them up to the light of the window. Naturally inclined toward patterns, I noted the lattice of the window and held the paper so that it intersected with the grid I had drawn of the various pieces that would comprise this spell's effects. I didn't see anything new but quadration, which told me nothing. Rotating the paper on a whim, however, did. One turn, two turns... and it all suddenly made sense. My eyes went wide with realization: I had been assembling the spell components backward. I set the paper back upon the window sill in an upside-down orientation and opened the valve on the room's oil lamp. One of the spell's effects allowed me to light or extinguish a small flame over flammable material within a short distance. My gaze honed upon the wick of the lamp as it began to soak in new oil. I rowed my right hand back and prepared myself to use my assigned verbal and somatic components to cast Prestidigitation for what I hoped was the first time. With keeping in mind the notion of heat as a catalyst that changed the state of matter, I brought my hand forward into a finger gun shape. Pointing at the wick with my gesture, I timed it exactly with my somatic component, "Chalupus maximus."
A fragile little flame weaved into existence in the desired location. The oil lamp had been turned on without using its flint. Joy was an emotion I had very little experience with, but having heard the phrase 'jumping for joy' before, it had now become something I understood. I couldn't believe it. I cast a cantrip! I cast a spell! I could cast magic now! My whole world quaked as I laughed quietly to myself. I had finished something, and not just any something, but magic. "Chalupus minimus," I urged, pointing at the lamp once again. The flame disappeared, and I turned the lamp's oil supply off, as it was beginning to run low. "Holy fucking shit," I exclaimed to myself. Sekvi had to be made aware of this. A wall of emotional inertia rose to hit me like a ton of bricks when I realized they weren't in Karthos Bend today. Keff! He was doing boring material orders; if I had to tell someone, I wanted it to be someone that mattered to me. I pocketed my notes and hurried over to the smithy to knock on the door. "Keff! Hey! I know you're busy but I have to show you something!" The sound of heavy footsteps led up to the door, and Keff was standing before me.
"It's fine. I'm having lunch. What is it?"
"I cast my first spell! It happened! I did it! I figured it out!"
"Well, that's nice," he said, leaning against the door frame. The tone he used sounded genuine, so I didn't think he was being sarcastic. "What can you do with that?"
"A bunch of things, um, make little sounds or visual effects or smells, light and extinguish little flames, clean stuff or make them dirty, flavor food, dude I can do so much it's wild."
"You say you can make a flame?"
"A little one. I did it with the lamp in the hotel room." Keff summarily waved me inside, took me behind the back door of the shop and gestured to a stove within what I assumed was his living space. His house looked like the inside of a roadside specialty shop along an old state highway. It wasn't cluttered, but it was homely and busy. I felt a strange sense of familiarity with the memory of visiting my uncle's gas station memorabilia shop.
"The damn thing got hot and bent," the dwarf explained, pointing to a small nozzle below the burner on his stove. "It puts gas out but doesn't line up with the flint anymore. Can't heat my soup without getting deep in there and that's, urg. Want to light it for me?"
"Sure. Oh, there's not a lot of gas floating around in here, is there?" Keff pointed to a nearby candle that sat over what appeared to be a soup recipe. "Alright, go ahead and turn it on. Here we go. Chalupus maximus!" It worked! A rim of blue flame appeared below the base of the burner, fed by the gas. It was slightly biased to one side.
"Well, look at that. I told you Sekvi had an eye for these things. How long did you work on that? Nice dress, by the way."
"Thank you! Two, one, three... six hours total?"
"Sounds like they're on to something with you. This will make them very happy. I bet you're proud, huh?" I dearly hoped that would be the case.
"I'm... excited. Pride isn't, something I'm used to."
"What about that Taco Bell?"
"Low-quality fast food, I was basically checking boxes. This, I guess this does feel different. Should I be proud?"
"Yes," Keff answered, moving his fledgling pot of soup to the now lit burner. I could tell he was softening his words for my anxiety's sake. It was appreciated. "You wouldn't have come here to show me if you weren't already."
"...I guess I can't argue with that." He was right. That wasn't the choice of a person that didn't know the worth of good work.
"Good, then don't. I need to get back to this. Thanks, Madison. Take care of yourself."
"I will, you too, Keff. Thank you."
"Uh-huh." I closed the door behind me as I left Keff's shop-house. The smithy felt different now that I was here during off hours. I looked over the equipment I had stood over for five days straight, coaxing metal into its shape and answering customers' questions with my meager knowledge of historic weaponry. Six days ago I had been cold, shoeless, and helplessly afraid as I huddled next to the forge, unable to speak with the people around me. The memory played through my head in third person, but in it, I was human. I wondered if my instinctual mental image of myself would ever catch up to my body, and how long it would take if it were to do so. An odd sadness prickled its way up into my chest, but I wasn't having it. I finally had a reason to feel that I had accomplished something meaningful. I had done it on my own. Sekvi had given me the pieces, and Keff had given me the means, but I had been the one to put these pieces together. The first thing I did with the spell was to help someone else, as well. How was discovered, and why was established immediately after. I felt that I had finally, for the first time in my life, discovered a path forward that was more than a dead end. This was so much more than that: its polar opposite. I had truly given myself the gift of possibility.
With this knowledge I decided to have lunch at the inn and take a walk around town to ascertain a lay of the land. The eighth Spoke contained a small open-air theater, and a troupe of traveling human dancers was putting on a show. It was two copper for a seat, so I broke my last silver to join the audience. Their streaming red and gold outfits were as elegant as their movements, and as inspiring as the music played alongside them. It was nice to see them enjoying their craft as well as doing such impressive things with their humanity that I never could. I learned after the show that the dancers were quintuplets that had raised each other from a young age, and eventually began performing as street musicians before becoming locally famous. They kept a low entry price to their shows to guarantee that as many people as possible could enjoy their work; it felt nice to see them setting an example of not pulling a ladder up behind them. Though I'd learned that lesson before in my amateur online politicking, it was a necessity that bore repetition. I wandered further after the show was over, coming across the guards' barracks that Betiara had told me about this morning. Its construction was very functional, with its only decoration being a pair of windows along both floors and hung banners of the town's sigil on either side of the doorway. I made note of this building in case I ever needed help myself or someone else in a dangerous situation.
I capped off my evening by observing the Karthos River from within town. It cut a swath through 3rd near Sekvi's tower, diverting South from town just before reaching 4th. The water was clearer than I expected, but I still didn't trust the quality of what ran within the town's borders. Who knows what the town was depositing into that water. Upstream would be far safer, and I learned through approaching a local surveyor that that was where the town's water was drawn from, as well as an aquifer that the river fed. I could see a distant puff of mist form along the side of the mountains as the sun's heat dissipated from the air. That must have been one of the river's tributaries. I returned to my hotel room as night fell and cozied myself into the dining room with my supper, which was to be a pressed bean cake coated in a deep red sauce; the cake had a similar consistency to meat loaf, and the sauce tasted somewhat similar to an oniony tomato sauce. It filled me up quickly, which left some idle conversation time. I was amazed at how much speaking I had been doing lately. I was normally so reserved, quiet, and eager to recluse myself as much as possible. A new normal was being established within the Cradle. It felt... new. It felt good. I practiced the various capabilities that I could within my room until fatigue overtook me. My mattress was given a good fluffing before I fell into it and quickly drifted off to sleep.