I shriek compulsively as I rapidly sit up. The motion tosses a blanket off of me.
What a terrible nightmare.
I glance to my right and see Jonas laying awake, his violet eyes wide open and his elbows spread out in surprise.
"The blazes...?" Jonas croaks. I must have woken him up.
"Sorry about that," I apologize.
I feel an itch on my forehead and reach my hand up to scratch it. I realize, looking at my fingers, that they are no longer a mass of floating bones, but normal skin and flesh. So I didn't transform into a skeleton after all...
Thank Notch. I'm so glad it's all finally over.
"Did you have one of those nightmares?" Jonas asks.
I nod. "Yea. It was a pretty long one, too."
I turn myself around and tilt my weight off the bed and onto the floor. The walls are back to their dull, dark grey again, with glowstone light scattering dim yellow splotches onto them. I walk around the bed and sidestep through the half-open door. I see, on the other side of the hall, Dan's closed bedroom door. Perhaps he is inside.
I turn to my right and walk down the narrow hallway towards the stairs, picking up the pace. Nature calls.
As it turned out, I didn't get much sleep. It's early in the morning; the air is crisp and silent, and the sun barely peaks over the horizon. A few monsters are still lurking in the distance, mostly spiders, but none close enough to be a concern.
I walk back around to the front side of the shack and see Dan talking to somebody. His husky, Sunshine, is standing close beside him on his left. As I approach slightly closer, I recognize the gristly face of Greyfeld, the old mailman who used to come to my hometown of Veridale.
I grin and wave. "Grey! It's been a while."
Greyfeld turns his face towards me, his eyes widened in confusion. "Now, where do I recognize that voice from?"
I grasp my fingers around the base of my leather helmet and pull it off, allowing him to see my face.
Greyfeld nods his head in recognition. "Indeed it has."
Dan turns his cloaked face towards me. "You know this man?"
"Yea, he used to carry mail back in my town."
"...up until a couple years back." Greyfeld adds in his cracked voice. His eyes squint as he smiles. "How's it been, lad?"
"It's been fine. The livestock have stayed healthy. Thankfully there hasn't been plagues or raids, or anything of that sort..."
I feel a pang of fear as I stare at the helmet in my hands... loosely hanging there... insecure. I feel the cold morning air against my damp and newly bare head. An irresistible urge wills my arms to move mechanically, replacing and re-strapping the leather on my head in one fluid motion. Then comes a sense of relief. I try to recollect my jumbled thoughts, recalling the conversation that I started with Greyfeld.
"That's great to hear," Greyfeld turns back to Dan. "Is the price reasonable, from what you remember?"
Dan shrugs the shoulders beneath his grey cloak. "As reasonable as it gets in Bluesteel. You know how it is. Everything's expensive in the city."
"Ah." Greyfeld mutters in an exacerbated sigh. "That's not ideal."
"It's more ideal than the other alternatives. I remember there being some blacksmiths in Ash Valley that know how to make those sorts of things, but that's far too long a journey unless you travel by rail..."
"I don't want to leave my baby behind." Greyfeld shakes his head. He is referring to the swine steed that usually carries his deliveries in leather pouches. I notice the mail hog behind Greyfeld resting, its fleshy snout laying flat upon the gravel path. "I've heard the same from other folks as well. I suppose Bluesteel is the only reasonable option. Thank you for your advice."
"It is my pleasure. I wish you the best of luck and health."
"Thank you, Vrendan."
After those thoughtful words, Dan turns around and departs towards the shack. His husky trots alongside him, its closest forepaw nearly brushing against his heel.
"What do you need to buy at Bluesteel?" I ask Greyfeld, curious of why he needs to travel to such a large city.
"I need a back brace." Greyfeld answers frankly. "You wouldn't possibly know where I could find one, would you?"
I shake my head. "Not really."
"I didn't think so." A somewhat sorrowful look enters his eyes. "I went to see a doctor a few days ago, because I've been feeling really tired on the job. I started feeling that way several years back, when I used to travel over the Adamant Mountain pass..."
"So that's why you stopped coming to the other side of the valley." I reason.
"That's right," Greyfeld responds. "The tiredness became progressively worse, until I concluded it was no longer safe for me to travel across. Once I stopped going, the fatigue went away for a while, but then it started to get worse again. As it turns out, the doctor says there's something wrong with my back."
"That sounds terrible." Poor Greyfeld. He's probably been in a lot of pain, too. And yet he's kept delivering mail, all this time! "I hope you feel better once you get the back brace."
"I do too, lad. I do too." He smiles weakly. "Life's not as kind to those who spawned long ago. The pull of the earth isn't as forgiving to the bones of the old as it is to the bones of the young. But enough about me." Greyfeld waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. "What brings you out as far as Zomem, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I came here so Dan could enchant my armor." I pause for a moment, trying to remember something. "I think there was another reason as well, but it's escaped me for the moment."
Greyfeld's eyes scan from my head to my toe, then back up to my head again. "It is quite... I don't think I've seen armor quite like yours before. It looks similar to leather armor, except it's more... ornate."
A pool of anger wells up in my stomach. How dare he disrespect my beautiful armor! He has no idea what incredible passion and craftsmanship went into making it. My hands shudder slightly. I ought to crush him like I did to that skeleton...
I try to submerge the anger. I can't let my emotions get out of hand like this. I try to hide the signs of my inner anger, opening my hands and softening the clenching of my brow.
"Are you alright, Fristad? You seem a little out of it..."
"Don't worry; I'm fine." I reply.
Greyfeld nods, eyeing me carefully. "Is there something you want to talk about?"
"I'd rather not."
"Alright, then. I won't press you for information. To be honest, I'd rather not know the details of the business that brought you to such an infamous village as this."
"Infamous?" Now Greyfeld makes me curious. I had the impression that Zomem was impoverished, and I know that impoverished villages tend to attract crime, but what could possibly happen in Zomem to give it the title of infamous? "What do you mean?"
Greyfeld lets out a subtle and refined chuckle, the sort of sound that someone might make if they were very knowledgeable about something. "Where do I begin? Well, first of all, Zomem is a haven for dangerous fugitives, not the least halfbloods. You've probably seen at least a few of them by now."
"Well, you don't know if they're really that dangerous. The rumors can't possibly all be true." I restrain the urge to say more, remembering all too well the way the villagers treat Jonas back in Veridale.
"Perhaps some are exaggerated, but it's impossible for all the rumors to be false. You ought to know that halfbloods can't be trusted. They are monsters, after all. However, I won't press you further on the matter."
I feel a little sad. It's a shame that nice people like Greyfeld see halfbloods as monsters.
"Of course, there are other sorts of dangerous fugitives as well: thieves and bandits, naturally, as well as just about every breed of criminal that society has brought up. You name a crime, and chances are someone who lives in Zomem has committed it. Plus, Zomem's so filthy that disease is rampant. It's awful." Greyfeld shakes his head. "I don't mean to curse your visit, but it's something that's worth knowing."
"I didn't get the impression that Zomem was such a great place to begin with." I admit. "Thanks for telling me, I guess."
"I hope you heed that knowledge and leave quickly as soon as you get whatever business you have here over with. Also, there's one more thing I think you should know." Greyfeld's voice drops to a whisper. "It's about Vrendan."
I lean a little closer to make out his voice better.
"Vrendan is a dark magician. A practitioner of forbidden void magic. The worst of the worst."
"What's so bad about void magic?" I whisper.
"It is incredibly dangerous and powerful... to such an extent that it is said to be irresistible to avoid using it for one's own self-gain. It is said that void magicians can teleport as well as annihilate objects from existence. Some say that void magicians can even read minds. If I were you, I'd speak softly around Vrendan. You don't know what he'll do to you if you get on his bad side."
So Dan is a void magician. I contemplate the thought for a moment. "I'll try to be respectful around him. I mean, he seems like a polite guy..."
"His politeness is likely just his way of avoiding drawing attention to himself. He knows that what he's doing is illegal. People like him aren't without their hidden motives."
I nod. "I'll be careful."
Greyfeld backs away. "Please do, lad. It was great to speak with you again."
"You too." I reply. "I hope you feel better."
Greyfeld lifts himself onto his hog with a grunt, then kicks its belly with the side of his heel. The hog lifts itself from its bed of stones and begins carrying its master towards the rural side of town, where the poorly maintained cottages fade to grassland.
