Chapter 4 – Dirtmouth
Day 1.
My first entry. Iselda gave me this paper and quill, so I could express myself. I am sorry for wasting it this way, but it must be done. These notes will remind me, should I forget. I was found a week ago at the bottom of the well. Cornifer, Iselda, and others rescued me. I owe my life to them. I do not know what happened to me. Bits and pieces of it come back at night. I forget them the moment I open my eyes. All I see is bright light. People around here call me Ser Knight, but my real name, I… cannot recall. Everyone else around this place has a name, given by their parents. I must have had one, too…
The tall Knight hunched over a small table, with a Lumafly lamp in front of himself. Writing. It was early morning, but it was hard to tell the difference between day and night in Hallownest – it was equally dark and bleak, making the kingdom seem timeless. Cornifer was already out, gone on his charting adventures, and there was a pot jumping and huffing in the fire, as Iselda was cooking breakfast. Such a nice, pleasant scent. The masked bug could not eat food, sustained from within by the unseen energy within. It did not have a mouth to speak, or to eat. But… the spicy scents made it wish it could. The writing went on slowly, as it was very difficult to … think. And yet, the mind went places it never did before, exploring with a thirst of a bug stranded in the desert. Half the time, the Knight got simply fascinated with the fancy curves of its own writing. The creature's thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of clacking steps against the wooden boards, making it turn to face Iselda, standing in the doorway.
"Awake already?" – she smiled. "Come over here, I got something for you."
Curious, the silent bug stood up, and walked over to the front of the shop, moving away the lantern above its head, to not hit it with the sharp ends of its mask like the last dozen times or so. It looked at the smaller female bug, who held something in its hands up in front of herself. Upon greater inspection, it was… a pale-gray cloak!
"I figured you would need something to replace that rug of yours you used to wear when we found you. So, I made you a brand new cloak! I managed to save the metal clip from the old one though. Wondrous what a little bit of polish could do to a thing. Kneel down a bit, will you?"
The knight knelt down, when told to do so, and felt the fabric of the new cloak drape around its shoulders. It reached down past the waist, and covered that stump of the arm nicely, so much so one would never guess it was gone in the first place! The tall bug looked at itself, amazed and surprised. Iselda smiled, reaching forward to click the button that would hold the cloak in place.
"There… I wish I could have made it longer, but that would have required twice as much cloth compared to what we had lying around… Do you like it?"
The knight remained on one knee, even after the cloak was put into place, looking up at Iselda. Even in the darkness of his mask, one could guess the outline of the only remaining eye gleaming and glistening. He nodded solemnly, and reached out for the lady's hand, taking it, and tapping its fingers against where a mouth should have been, on its 'face'. Iselda's looked flustered, for a brief moment, as she slowly put the hand back.
"Such a gentlebug. You really were a knight, weren't you? Go along now, I need to get the shop opened up. Corny insists I open doors every day at the precise hour. Though I hardly see crowds of bustling customers lining outside the door to buy his maps. Trade certainly went up though, ever since that pesky yellow plague went away…"
Nodding, the Knight took its blade, fixing it on the makeshift scabbard on its back, and went out, leaving through the small door that made it bow to walk through. Making it into the only street ran through the middle of Dirtmouth. Such a lonely place, it used to be, though much more crowded now. Some of the old huts that were empty for decades were being occupied and repaired, with bugs returning from the mines, the fungal wastes, and many travelers from other places settling in. The Knight watched the smaller ones, as they passed by, and they watched it back, noting the creature's height and imposing features. One or two even waved, though the bug did not know how to reply to that greeting. Instead, it made way to a familiar bug on the other side of the square, right next to the metal bench that became something of a local attraction and a favorite resting place. The Elderbug.
"Ahh, it is you, ser Knight. You grace us with your presence." – the old creature responded to its approach in reverence. The knight closed its eye and lowered its neck, akin to a small bow.
"Are you looking for something to do around the village again? There are still many homes that need mending, and a many a leaking roof that could use a layer of fresh shells. There's also been a few feral bugs creeping around the entrance from the King's path, if you feel like stretching your legs. My… I've never thought of myself the organizational type, but here I am, talking about what needs to be done. Beats giving advice to ungrateful strangers, that's for certain."
That is what the Knight had been doing for the past several days. Iselda quickly discovered that keeping the big fellow inside her small shop meant having it knock over things every it moved. And besides, the creature did not want to stay in, but wanted to be useful instead. Though the bandages were still there, covering the cracks in the shell, it healed very quickly. But, with that one big arm, the Knight found it was stronger than most people were with two.
"I hope you do not think of this as prying, but… have you managed to remember anything about your past, ser?"
The sudden question brought the creature out of its thoughts. Looking back at the Elderbug, it shook its head, shoulders drooping lightly.
"Oh, I am so very sorry… I hope you make it, some time. Memories are what makes a bug. So many return from those caverns nowadays, without remembering much of what happened. Ah! Almost forgot! Sly, the merchant, wanted to see you. No doubt he'll try to sell you something. So, if you have any Geo, better remain watchful. Still, I would pay him a visit, were I you."
The Knight nodded, closing its arm under the newfound cloak, which gave its ragged and tattered body a semblance of dignity. The creature would walk over to that small shop at the edge of the village. Knocking and opening the door, before peering inside. It would see the shop, filled with all kinds of items, with threatening masks hanging off the walls, and a single lamp above the circular ceiling to shine upon it. Before the counter, the Knight would see a petite bug, with eyes big, fidgeting over the assortment of goods. Sly rose his eyes only when the bell above the door rang.
"Ah, so you have arrived. I am glad that Elderbug delivered my message. So, you would be Ser Knight everyone's been talking about in this village. Hmpf! Quite tall you are, but size does not mean anything, hmm? You carry a Nail, and have the posture of a warrior about yourself. That is all I need to know."
With that, Sly hopped onto the counter, and reached underneath it, briefly. Then, he pulled out a huge, triangular nail, almost trice its size. Pointing its tip towards the surprised visitor at the door.
"You, me, outside."