The Lost Heirloom
Fanfiction based upon Hunter x Hunter Manga
No affiliation or ownership claimed
SETTING INFORMATION: (see vol. 18 page 170 for a rough world map)
-The country of Owlmin borders the larger countries of Kakin to the east and north, Pedaran to the west, and Swualan to the south.
-Owlmin is about the size of modern day Maine and is the 'rain buffer' for the desert country of Swualan.
-The opening setting is in Idpare, a town just north of the mountains separating Owlmin and Swualan.
Chapter One
A woman rode into the town of Idpare that sunny December morning with a small piece of parchment clenched in her fist. Her mount was a filthy camel with a matted coat caked with mud and sand— it looked as though any step could be its last. The woman appeared to be in no better shape. Indeed, the townsfolk did not know for sure until after the autopsy that it was a woman, so dirty and bloody her features were. Rags hung limply from her quivering frame as the camel galumphed at a painful pace towards the guard tower at the town gate.
The scout in the tower was beside himself in wonder and remorse. What could make such a wretched pair move so fast, and in such a critical condition? He rang the town's warning bell and immediately found his way down the winding stairs to the street below. By the time the young scout reached the ground, a small party of townsfolk and militiamen had crowded around the rider. He faltered in his quickened step when he noticed what he had missed before— the rider was slumped over in the saddle with four arrow shafts jutting from her back. Bright golden feathers glistened in the sun upon these wretched shafts. Congealed blood adorned the rider like bruises on a rotting apple. The stench came next in one nauseating wave; a passing mother shielded her children from the scene.
Nyntso the scout took in the gruesome scene. It burned itself into his memory. He was now quite near to the rider and silently watched as a feeble arm moved from the saddle horn to push a scrap of paper into a waiting militiaman's hand. Nyntso saw a faint wave of relief cross the rider's face. Then she was falling.
Sideways she fell into the awaiting arms of the townsfolk. An eerie silence was witness to the solemn fact that the rider was dead before she met their arms. The militiaman with the parchment bowed his head in respect before sprinting to the lord's hall at the end of the street to deliver the message. At almost the same instant as the man disappeared, the town's physician emerged from the gathering crowd to offer his aid. Too late; and everyone knew without words.
Nyntso's legs felt too weak to support his weight, and he found an excuse to wander away from the crowd a bit. He seated himself with his back against the base of the watchtower. His eyelids closed, but not in rest. The eyelids closed because he did not want to cry where the proud could see him.
Overhead, a cloud moved to block the sun. The town of Idpare was glad for the shade.
Wapol's Tavern was packed that evening, with dozens of people all talking about the same subject.
"She was on camelback?"
Gregor the weaponsmith spoke through his rough red beard. Across the tavern table, Amil nodded solemnly with his eyes cast down into his steaming mug of cider.
"Yes. The poor creature is being seen to at the stable. It might not recover from such a journey."
"It seems to confirm the rider's nationality; between her letter and the camel. We know she rode out from the southern peaks thanks to witnesses in the pass."
Both men took drinks from their mugs. Amil brushed his long black hair out of his eyes and spoke.
"The nearest Swuali post is more than thirty miles from the southern pass. To think she could have ridden so far with such injuries…"
"I've learned how tough Swuali girls can be. I dated one for almost a year when I was your age. Was a sweet girl 'til you met her temper." Gregor laughed heartily and proceeded to drain his cider from the mug. Amil looked about the room and spotted heated conversations taking place. He did not see the two people to whom he was waiting to speak.
Amil leaned back as Gregor turned to talk to someone else at a nearby table. The twenty-something rested his oiled snakeskin boots on another chair and adjusted his emerald colored beret that matched his woven cloak.
'I'm tough enough to have survived the Hunter Exam twice,' he thought 'and I'm sure I'll finally pass this year. So why am I so disturbed by this rider's arrival?'
Nyntso hopped the fence between the lord's hall and the stables. He had been hoping to overhear more about what was in the letter than what was revealed at a town meeting that afternoon. He had no luck, however, and decided he might examine the camel for clues.
He landed in a deep puddle; resulting in dirty water being splashed all along his back and legs. His old pair of grey pants and his brown cloak protected him only a little, and he shivered in the evening air as the cool water soaked in. It just so happened that his least favorite part about this time of winter was how low the temperature fell at night.
Idpare had never seen snow, but a week of rain was not uncommon. Most of this rain ended up in Fairman's Oasis, the lake upon which Idpare had been founded. Otherwise, to the north, and in the bordering countries of Kakin and Pedaran, tropical forests covered the landscape, soaking up the rain that Swualan did not have. Swualan imported water in exchange for rare desert herbs and spices. Owlmin then sold the herbs and spices to the northern countries for a nice profit. As a result, the economies were interdependent and the countries were close allies.
The concern of the Swuali girl deeply troubled Nyntso. He knew that if war had come to Swualan, Owlmin would surely become part of the fray. The last thing Nyntso wanted was to fight battles in the desert.
Nyntso entered the stables and immediately spotted his childhood friend Inka grooming the worn camel with a brush and a pail of warm water. Her lengthy pink hair was tied back with a single silver ribbon and she was wearing an old brown working apron. The young scout leaned against a horse stall and listened to her hum as she worked.
He recognized the tune as 'the ballad of the ants', a victory hymn from the eradication of the chimera ant threat a few decades before. Tiptoeing, he snuck up behind Inka and whispered her name sharply into her ear.
"Inka!"
"Eiiieeek!"
Her reaction was to shriek and elbow him in the ribs. Startled, the camel kicked the pail of water over, splashing both of them.
"Nyntso! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?!" She punched him twice in the shoulder and stuck her tongue out. "Now I have to go home and change!"
"You mean you weren't going to change after washing the camel?" Nyntso feigned a look of disgust. 'She looks so cute when she's angry,' he thought.
"Hopeless! That's what you are!" She huffed and turned back around to lead the camel into its pen. After securing the tie, she walked back to Nyntso and crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
Nyntso was still looking at her with his mouth slightly open. "What? Oh, I was hoping you could update me on the camel. Did you find anything in the saddlebag?"
"Just a few rice cakes and a waterskin." She shook her head side-to-side and let her pink curls bounce. She sat down upon a low bench and spread her hands out upon the lap of her working apron. "I don't suppose you learned anything new?"
Nyntso sat beside her and clicked his tongue. "No," he said, "it sure looks like the lords are trying to keep everything a big secret."
"I wouldn't worry too much," she advised, "my father always says that—"
"I know," he interrupted, "'Worrying won't change what happens next'. Everyone knows that quote. Everyone knows who the great Kite is and what he said. He's a great hero; I only wish he were a better father for your sake."
"Now don't you say that about him! He's just very busy, that's all…" she trailed off and looked at the ground. Nyntso suddenly started and spoke.
"Whoa … weren't we supposed to meet Amil in the tavern about now?"
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot! Let's walk to our houses to change first."
"As you command, Lady Kite."
The excitement in Wapol's Tavern had worn off a bit, and most people had drunk their fill and were trickling out. Gregor had left for home, and Amil was now alone at the table. He had three empties sitting before him, but he wasn't feeling any different. Something about the night prevented his relaxation.
Someone suddenly lifted his beret off of his head. He turned to see Nyntso and Inka take their long awaiting seats at the table, Inka taunting him by wearing his beret.
"You're late." He snarled as he snatched his hat back.
"Inka insisted we change our clothes before we came here."
"Not like you objected." She remarked before she waved to Wapol to send them some virgin cider; she hated alcohol and neither of the newcomers were old enough to drink anyway.
"Any news?" Amil inquired.
"Rice cakes."
"What?"
"Rice cakes," Nyntso repeated, "in the saddlebag."
"That doesn't tell us much."
Realizing that none of them had learned anything new about the Swuali rider, they changed the subject.
"Did you want to come riding with us tomorrow?" Inka inquired at Amil. She and Nyntso were planning on taking the trail around the lake the next morning.
"Can't," Amil replied, accepting the drink tray from Wapol and placing it with disgust in front of the other two. "I have to build a fence for Gregor." He left out the part about him losing the drinking bet earlier with the red-haired weaponsmith.
Nyntso sighed in relief. Amil would only be a drag on horseback.
"Are you sure? We might learn something new about what happened this morning." Inka sipped from her mug.
"Why are you so eager for him to come?" asked Nyntso with a furrowed brow.
'Why are you so eager for me not to?' thought Amil to himself, smirking. "No, that's alright. Have fun you two, I'll meet you in this same place for dinner."
"Sounds like a plan," remarked Nyntso, "We'll bring you back some goat cheese if the herder gives us any.
"You had better."
Outside, the clouds parted to reveal a full moon. The danger was real— but for the town of Idpare, the worries were put to bed for the night.
-- The long awaited return of SkippingZombie
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