Aidan
The Realms
Fifthday, 4th week of the 7th month, Godless Age 597
Early Morning
Starchaser Village, Mistvale Highlands

Aidan woke slowly from a dreamless sleep. The mid-autumn morning air was cold enough to make him reluctant to move away from Brighid's warm softness against his back. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and down to his waist, holding him close, and her face was bent close enough that he could feel her slow, steady breaths blowing through his hair. That meant that the hot, supple flesh pressed around his neck was her breasts. That shouldn't have been a revelation, but in Aidan's half-awake state of mind, it seemed profound. He turned around in the circle of his love's embrace, causing her to mumble sleepily in protest and tighten her arms around him.

Aidan nuzzled Brighid's chest, burying his face into her softness and inhaling her scent. She smelled faintly of smoke and sweat. Not thick, heavy smoke, nor rancid, greasy sweat; her scent was that of a campfire in the wilderness under the stars and the salty tang of fresh exertion, with just the faintest hint of something else. Cinnamon and apples? Aidan wasn't sure; he couldn't catch enough of it to make up his mind. Then, he had a bright idea: he had a brand new spell that would help.

Aidan cast Minor Shift on himself, brushing Brighid's skin with his lips as he whispered the incantation. Once his sense of smell sharpened, he burrowed his face into her cleavage and breathed in deeply. He didn't want to be distracted by other scents. At once, a complex bouquet filled his nostrils and bloomed in his mind. Yes, there was the smoke, in multiple flavors. Aidan didn't have the experience to identify the smoke-scents, but he could tell that there were several. Probably uses different types of wood in the forge to modify the furnace's heat, he thought to himself. There, too, was her sweat, salty and sweet. Beneath those, though, was another layer, her natural scent: spicy, with a deep, slow-burning heat that ramped up as he reveled in it, and an acidic sweetness laced through it. He understood now why he thought of cinnamon apples, though that wasn't quite right. The sweetness was closer to, but not quite, citrus, and the spice didn't have the same intensity as cinnamon. In the end, it was unique to her, and Aidan was content to leave it at that.

"Not that I object," murmured Brighid, voice thick with sleep, "but what are you doing?"

"Smelling you," he replied.

"Oh." After a long pause, she asked, "Not bad, I hope?"

Aidan shook his head, managing to worm his way deeper into her decolletage. "Nope. I love it." He inhaled her scent again, letting it fill and surround him.

"Good." Another pause. Her hands slid down his back. "I thought you might be molesting me in my sleep."

"That too," he agreed.

The silence stretched out for a minute before Brighid asked, "If I pretend to go back to sleep, will you keep doing it?"

Aidan lifted his head from between her breasts and met Brighid's emerald eyes with his ruby ones. He held her gaze for three heartbeats, then lowered his head again, this time to the summit instead of the valley. A pleased moan rewarded his efforts, and strong arms cradled his head and hips, inviting him to immerse himself in her.

Aidan
Late morning

The two did not leave their bed until the sun entirely banished the morning chill. They shared a leisurely breakfast, then Aidan left Brighid laboring at the anvil to seek out the village's head trader. He was barely out of sight of the forge, and still close enough to hear the clanging of Brighid's hammer, when a centaur he had never seen before stepped into his path.

He stopped, keeping his distance from the stranger. She wasn't large as far as centaurs went, but she was taller than Aidan, and by the look she was giving him, this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. Still, if he were going to make a home here, he would have to deal with it.

"Hello, my name is Aidan. I don't believe I have met you before; may I know your name?"

"You may not." She responded with a sneer. "A human piece of trash like you does not deserve my name. I do not know what spell you have woven over the Council, and I do not care. We do not want you here. We will not accept you. Leave us and die in the wilderness as you deserve."

So that's how it's going to be, huh? No use trying to change this one's mind, but debates are for the audience, not the debaters. Projecting his voice to reach the ears of the onlookers better, Aidan responded, "We? Who, precisely, do you speak for?" He met the eyes of one bystander after another. "Does she speak for you, sir, or you, ma'am?" Some of them returned his gaze with defiance, but others turned their heads, avoiding his eyes. Those were his audience. "I understand why you dislike humans. From what I hear, humans around here are racist assholes. They treat you and the other people of the Highlands as only slightly more than beasts.

"I ask you, though: how is that any different from the way you are treating me? You called me a piece of trash who didn't deserve to know your name—immediately after I gave you my name unprompted. I have neither done you any harm nor insulted you or yours. How, then, can you justify treating me so poorly? You do not know me, just as I do not know you. I greeted you politely, as befits two strangers meeting. What, in that, deserved your bile?"

"Do you hear yourself?" His accuser spat back. "Your flowery speech only makes it clear that your words are empty. You hide your condescension in pretty words, but the rot within is evident to anyone. You do not fool us, human. The only difference between you and the rest of your race is that here we outnumber you instead of the other way around. A lone trow cowers and hides, but return it to its pack, and its true colors reemerge."

"Do you hear yourself?" Aidan returned her words to her. "You accuse me of treating you like other humans would—that is to say, like an animal. And yet, here you are, comparing me to a monster barely capable of thought. I come from a country with a long tradition of overthrowing human oppression. The founding document of my homeland declared in its opening line, 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.' Those are the words I was raised to believe. All men—and by men, I mean sapient beings, male or female or other, regardless of race—are created equal. All of us deserve to live our lives free from tyranny and to pursue our dreams. So long as your happiness does not come at the expense of another, I have no problem with you.

"At the same time, however," Aidan glared at the centaur blocking his way, "we make it our business to overthrow bullies, big and small. Hate me all you want; that is your right. Speak against me, even, if you must. I trust that others are not so consumed by hatred as to be blinded to the truth. But I give you now a warning: if you seek to drive me away by harming me or mine, you had best skip straight to killing me, because I will repay blood for blood. Now, either back your words with actions or step aside. I am already late for a meeting with Councillor Gerwyn."

Aidan continued glaring at the nameless centaur, who glared right back at him, unbudging. Keeping his head held high, Aidan stepped to the side and walked past her, staring straight ahead. His back tensed, anticipating the pain of being struck from behind, but none came. He continued walking until he turned the corner, then leaned against the wall of a house and allowed his nerves to overtake him. In the distance, the ringing of hammer and anvil resumed.

It took Aidan several minutes to gather himself back up and resume his journey, and another half hour until he tracked Gerwyn down. He could feel eyes watching him the whole way, but no one else confronted him openly. He finally spotted the dwarf-like trader talking to another villager and approached, standing in the Councillor's sight but at a respectful distance.

After the conversation finished, Gerwyn walked over to Aidan and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ah, there you are, Aidan. I wondered when, or even if, you would find your way to me. Come, walk with me." He led Aidan on a meandering route through the village. "Tell me, lad, is what you said true?"

Aidan blinked at the centaur. "You'll have to be more precise. I've said a lot of things."

"Hah! Good point. I meant what you said this morning. 'All men are created equal' and all that."

"How did you...? No, nevermind." Aidan shook his head and reminded himself with a wry grin, "If there's anything that travels faster than light, it's gossip. I should be glad that my words got through to people strongly enough to be repeated. Yes, that's true, so far as it goes. I overstated things a little; the Declaration of Independence is hundreds of years old, and not everyone holds to it anymore. I do, though. Always have."

Gerwyn nodded. "Good lad, and well-spoken. Yes, your words stuck with those who listened, and they shared them with others, and those shared with still more. You spoke with conviction and passion, and you refused to back down from a direct challenge, made it clear that you would not let yourself be trampled, but would prefer peace. You have not solved all your problems, but it is a good start. A good start, indeed. Hold a moment, please." He stepped aside and held a short conversation with another centaur about purchasing goods to trade outside the village. After a few minutes, he beckoned to Aidan and resumed walking.

"Tell me, Aidan: assume that you are allowed to stay here in the village. What do you see as your future? What role would you play? I will warn you now, being Brighid's kept man will make you few friends."

Aidan shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to stand that anyway. I need to have something to keep my hands and mind busy. You're right; it is a difficult question. I have not had much time to learn the Starchasers' ways, nor what needs the tribe has. It would be presumptuous to declare a craft or pursuit at this point. I know I have a degree of affinity for smithing because Brighid taught me some, but I don't think it would suit me. So far, my affinities point towards me being most useful as a mage; Councillor Ailis offered to take me in as an apprentice, and I am considering her offer. If you forced me to make a prediction now, that would be my answer."

"Ailis wants you as an apprentice? Indeed? I cannot remember the last time she took so direct a role. You must have shown her something interesting indeed—or found some blackmail. Tell me, did you catch her doing something naughty?" Gerwyn wiggled his bushy eyebrows at Aidan, prompting a laugh.

"No, I wouldn't try that on her. I know better than to dare a predator to eat me. I suppose it isn't a secret; people will find out soon enough. I can cast spells of three different schools of magic: beast, fire, and life. I'm still less than Apprentice rank in all of them, but my affinities are high enough to ensure that won't last long if I pursue them full-time."

"Oh-hoh! That would do it!" The mountain centaur gave Aidan an appraising look. "It is an odd combination, but any magic is useful. Yes, useful indeed. Pardon me just a moment." Again, Gerwyn stepped aside to conduct business. A few moments later, he returned to Aidan's side and guided him down a different street with a hand on his back.

"I am not one to interfere in others' relationships, but you should be aware that Brighid is—was—one of the most sought-after young ladies in the village. It is likely that, in twenty or thirty years, she will be a Councillor herself, and that is to say nothing of her beauty, which even I must admit. Some hate you just for that."

"Fuck them," Aidan snorted. "Anyone who would be upset at Brighid finding love in the arms of another wouldn't have won her heart anyway. And if they're mad just because I'm human, fuck them twice over. I've dealt with enough stupid, self-centered bigotry for a lifetime back in my home. I love her. She loves me. I won't apologize for that, and I can't stop feeling what I feel."

Crow's feet appeared at the corners of Gerwyn's eyes deepened as he smiled. "You have a good heart, lad, fierce and loyal." The smile faded, and Gerwyn asked in a somber tone, "Did Ailis or Fionn bring up the matter of your participation in the attack on Ceallach Macht?"

Aidan nodded. "Yes, both of them. I volunteered. I believe Fionn intends me to guide a strike team into the heart of the city, to strike at the root of the evil nesting there."

"I hope that your second journey ends better than the first, then."

"Me, too."

"Well, thank you for your time, my lad. Brighid, you found yourself a winner. I return him to your tender care. Have a good evening, both of you." Aidan looked up, startled, and found that he was back in front of Brighid's forge. He mentally retraced Gerwyn's circuitous route and reviewed their conversation, then shook his head and laughed.

"What is it, love?" Brighid asked.

He grinned up at her. "I think your mother may not be the only manipulative bastard on the Council. Gerwyn just walked me around the entire village and asked me leading questions about my morals and my plans for the future out where everyone could hear. I think I owe him a beer, or whatever passes for alcohol around here. Alas, I think my next stop will be less pleasant. Do you feel up to confronting a Wolfsister in her lair, wherever that might be? I expect she lives outside the village, and Council's protection or no, I don't feel safe wandering around outside alone."

Brighid nodded soberly. "Yes, that is wise. I just finished an order, so let me get changed, and we can be off."

Zurai

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