Chapter 3: Tonitrus Canere

The first step in Osvald's revenge plot was to head to Conning Creek. Things can change in five years, but surely evidence of what had happened that night would linger somewhere. It was a small chance, but was the only lead Osvald had as to where he could have gone.

As it turned out, Temenos and Throné had business in the western continent as well. But there were no ships going directly from the Brightlands to Canalbrine, which is how the three found themselves on the shores of Toto'haha for the day.

Really, the only reason the three had for going to Beasting Village was that Temenos had insisted on restocking on supplies.

"I must remind you, there is only one of me surrounded by two brigands," he had said as he practically dragged Osvald and Throné in the direction of the village. "We can't all rely on brute strength in battle, you know."

"What's stopping you from learning a different weapon while on the road?" Throné questioned. "I've taken down plenty of warriors that were self-taught."

Temenos placed a hand on his chest, as if Throné had said something scandalous. "Why, the fact that my delicate bones would surely break under such labor. I'm afraid I'm not cut out for the life of a warrior."

"Right, because battling monsters and interrogating people are two completely different things," Throné deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Osvald was not one that partook in meaningless conversation, but he couldn't deny that the banter between Temenos and Throné was entertaining.

Beasting Village had clearly seen better days. Apparently a monster had recently attacked the village - a monster unlike anything ever seen before.

Osvald almost found himself regretting not getting to Toto'haha sooner. Based on the villager's descriptions of the beast, he found himself curious about what it could be. Not many monsters had necks that could stretch the way this monster supposedly did, and even fewer could summon minions of its own. Not to mention that it supposedly spoke and simply disappeared when it was finally brought down.

The only traces that were reportedly left behind were the traces of magic scattered across the ground. Whoever fought this creature likely did so with magic of their own. There were telltale signs of lightning magic scattered across the area. Clearly, the fight had been brutal.

There were also darkened patches on the ground - it brought shadow magic to mind, but that kind of magic did not scorch the earth in this manner. Only fire magic could do that, and yet that couldn't be the answer either. Osvald had only known ice and snow for five years, but even he remembered that grass turned tan when it is burned.

Curious, Osvald placed a hand on one of the darkened patches of earth. Despite the sun, these patches felt ice cold to the touch. A wave of nausea accompanied the cold touch, and the scholar retracted his hand like he had been burnt. This removed any doubt. Whatever that creature was, it either utilized or was made of a kind of magic that he was not familiar with.

This couldn't possibly be connected to ...? Osvald could barely finish that thought; knowing the possibility existed made his mind race.

What kind of creature was this?

"Osvald...Osvaaaald..."

("Have you found the answer?" Harvey questioned, watching him with a glint in his eye and-)

Osvald chose to ignore the intrusive memory in favor of focusing on the newest addition to the group.

Ochette squinted at him like she was studying him, and had been repeating his name like this for some time. Mahina didn't seem quite as interested as her master, but she seemed to be communicating with Ochette (not that Osvald could understand what she could be saying).

This struck Osvald as odd. He knew his name was a rare one (meaning; in thirty-eight years, he had only met two others with the name), but was it truly that interesting a name?

"What are you doing?"

Ochette's answer surprised him; "Tryin' to figure out what to call you."

"...What?"

"Isn't that something humans do when they make friends?" she questioned. Her ears twitched as she continued, "Shorten each other's names? I forget the word for it, but I know some of the humans in Beasting Village do that with each other. So, it's gotta be a human thing, right?"

She bounced on the balls of her feet before continuing, "Like, the lady that gave me food is named Throné, right? So I could call her something like Néné."

It was only when Ochette gave her example that Osvald understood. Nicknames were not something that Osvald had any interest in; that level of comradery was rare to him, both in his line of work and during his time in prison. Most nicknames he had received were insults coming from the warden ( and at that thought, Osvald had to remind himself that the man was dead ), so the thought of having a nickname left a somewhat sour taste in Osvald's mouth.

"Ah. You're trying to think of a nickname."

Ochette's eyes seemed to light up. "Yeah, that's the word I was lookin' for! I'm havin' trouble coming up with a good one for you. All I can think of is either Oz or Valdy."

"Then don't bother."

"But then I'd be leaving you out," she responded, her ears drooping. "We're gonna be traveling together, doesn't that make us friends?"

Osvald was not a man that made friends; especially not after what Harvey had done. How naïve to think that it could be that simple. How childish.

At that thought, he was reminded of Elena. Her earnest curiosity for the world around her was once a source of pride for Osvald, but now it only brought him pain to remember it. It also crossed his mind that Elena would have loved to meet Ochette, and that only made his grief even worse.

With that thought in mind, how could Osvald bring himself to argue the matter any further? The simple answer was that he couldn't.

"...Fine," Osvald muttered. "Do what you want. Just...not Oz or Valdy."

Ochette grinned, any trace of sadness gone from her face. She practically tackled him in a hug - a move Osvald had not expected, so he was nearly knocked off his feet. It was at that moment that he learned that beastlings were indeed stronger than they appeared.

"Wahoo!" Ochette cheered. "Don't worry, I'll think of a good one! You can count on it!"

Frankly, Osvald hoped it would happen later rather than sooner.

( Ochette did eventually come up with a nickname for Osvald, but not before they reached the Harborlands. )