"Bran, are you certain that you want to join me? This isn't exactly a journey for the faint of heart," Elaine tried her best convincing Bran to stay put, but the spirited young boy wouldn't budge; he had clearly made up his mind, packing away an extra pair of his adventuring sandals with a happy-go-lucky grin on his face. "Bran, we just met! You can't seriously be considering accompanying me the whole way, can you?!"

"Why not? I've got nothing better to do, and you can't go by yourself, right?" Bran shrugged. To him, there was really no other option; he couldn't pass up the journey of a lifetime. "It'll be fun, really! We may not know each other all that well now, but we'll have plenty of time to talk on the road! And we'll definitely find other people willing to help along the way too!" Bran was practically glowing with childish optimism.

"I'm not going to be alone, remember?" Elaine reminded herself and Bran of her father's instructions, hoping it would deter the naive boy. "I am to meet with the wizard Derfel in Glengrove, Beckonshire. He will accompany me. You don't have to-..." unfortunately for Elaine, judging by Bran's bubbly expression upon Elaine's utterance of the word 'wizard', the young lad's eagerness to join multiplied tenfold. "N-no! B-Bran, h-he's not-!" Elaine stammered, turning her attention to Fin-Fin, who she hoped would remedy the situation. "Fin-Fin, c-can't you do anything?"

The exasperated fox simply shook his head and sighed; he had done this song and dance many times before.

"A wizard! A wizard! A real wizard!" Bran could hardly believe his luck. It was as if he were the main character in his own chivalric tale. "You didn't tell me this guy was a wizard! Wow, wow, wow!" he quickly slipped on his worn sandals and backpack, riffling through a nearby drawer for extra clothes. "I can't believe it!"

"Bran, please, he'll only be expecting-..." Elaine tried thinking of an out, but by this point, she knew nothing would work on Bran; he was far too wrapped up in his own imagination. "I'm not even sure if he'll be expecting me! And I don't even know what of man --if he even is a man-- he'll be!"

"Well, exactly! What if he turns out to be a huge jerk and doesn't wanna help you? You should have someone else just in case, right?" Bran suggested, tossing Elaine a striped tunic, blue leather gloves, dark brown boots, a blue belt, and a pair of brown cotton trousers for her to wear. "Here, you should put these on instead of that dress thing, yeah?"

"Um... thank you," Elaine nodded, trying on her new gloves. "But, Bran, I doubt my father would pair me with anyone who'd be crass enough to refuse."

"Well..." Bran scratched his chin, trying to concoct a valid argument as to why his accompaniment was required. "Aha! Well, Princess... do you know where Glengrove is?"

"Um..." Elaine trailed off, acknowledging her defeat. "No."

"Ah, but I do! And we're in Beckonshire!" Bran puffed out his chest, humming a cheery melody as he double-checked his bag's contents just in case he missed anything. "So, um..." he calmed himself down for a moment, remembering his mother's lectures regarding proper manners. "Elaine...? Since you need me to get to Glengrove... could I...? Could I maybe come with you-?" just then, Bran felt multiple gusts of air from Fin-Fin's snout hit the back of his neck. "Oh, sorry, Fin-Fin! I mean... can we come with you, Elaine?"

"Well..." Elaine sighed; she simply couldn't bring herself to turn down such an enthusiastic soul. "Okay, you can-. Ah-ah-ah!" she stopped Bran before he could blurt any further. "You and Fin-Fin can accompany me until we reach Glengrove. Once we're there, it's up to Derfel to decide if you can stay or not, okay?"

"But...-! Okay." Bran suppressed his overpowering joy, maintaining composure for Elaine so as not to spoil their calm, formal agreement.

"So... um... do y-you have anywhere I can get dressed...?" Elaine blushed as she held her new clothes in a neat bundle. "I... d-don't want to get changed right here, to be honest."

"Oh? Oh!" Bran's face turned beet red and he quickly hopped to his feet in a panic. "Oh, I'm super-duper sorry, Princess! I didn't expect you to-...!" he slapped himself across the cheek in a vain attempt to dispel his embarrassment, then, in a hurry, he retreated with Fin-Fin in tow out the front door, leaving Elaine to go about her business in private. "Alright, you can just be in here by yourself! Fin-Fin and I will head outside to err... wait for you to finish! C'mon, Fin! Err... sorry again, Princess!"

"It's okay," Elaine let out a cathartic laugh, waving to Bran and Fin-Fin as they stepped outside, shutting the door behind them. "I won't be long, I promise."

As the front door slammed shut, Elaine was given a brief respite from the chaos which had become her new life on the run. She reflected on her years of comfort in relative solitude- how they all seemed to melt away and distort. So quickly had those memories been assaulted by the hefty reality of her situation that she barely had a moment to process them in the waking world. For the first time in her life, Elaine was alone, thrust into an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar people, and she was powerless. And it was that powerlessness which ate away at her the most as she sat at the edge of the bed, staring at her dangling, dainty feet; she was not like her father. Elaine was not a brave knight, nor was she a strong-willed leader like he was. She was just a frightened thirteen-year-old girl, unable to prevent her father's untimely demise, and barely able to save herself.

"Oh, Father..." Elaine wept into her bundle of clothes as she hugged it tightly, imagining it was her father, wrapping her in his tender, comforting arms. "I'm so lost."

*

Beneath an old willow tree, nestled against Bran's sod house stood a grave. It had no king's headstone with a nobleman's crest, nor a fancy title to go with it; it was a handmade cross of oak and nails with a carved inscription on it reading "MUM", crafted with all the love and care a seven-year-old boy could give. Bran and Fin-Fin stood before the grave, willow blossoms cascading down to earth, the warm Mai [i] breeze whisking them away. They stood silent, staring at the etching on the cross with solemn expressions. So long had the grave sat there that wild daisies were beginning to overrun the site, wrapping around the base of the cross. But Bran left them be; he knew that she who lied still beneath the earth would have preferred to let the flowers grow.

"Hey, Mum..." Bran forced a half-smile, clutching a bouquet of tulips he plucked from the riverside in his hands. "Hey, err... I got you your favourite." he knelt down, setting the flowers on her grave. "Hope you like 'em..." Bran paused for a moment as he got back on his feet, lifting his gaze to the willow overhead which showered him in fuzzy little catkins. "You loved this time of year."

"Arah," Fin-Fin yipped, tugging on Bran's trousers to get his attention. "Rah-rah."

"What is it-? Ah!" Bran jumped as he turned his head to find Elaine standing less than a meter away from him, dressed in the clothes he lent her. "Oh, sorry! Didn't see ya there!"

"I was just waiting for you to finish," Elaine reassured him, standing firmly at attention in respect for the dead. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to join you."

"Oh, um... sure, heh!" Bran let out a breathy laugh as he turned to face his mother's grave once again. "Well, um... I guess I'm gonna get going now, mum. I'll be going on an adventure, heh... like the ones you used to tell me about. I won't be too long, I hope. I'll come back here someday soon, I know it! And then I'll tell you all about it."

Elaine remained as quiet as a church mouse, locking her hands together in prayer as she paid her respects. Then, after a moment of total silence, Elaine began to hum a lullaby, the same one her father sang for her as a babe. Fin-Fin's ears twitched as he instantly recognized the melody, swaying his head with the downbeat.

"Hey, that's-...!" so moved was Bran that his heart fluttered rhythmically her hum, wafted away by its sweet tune, which carried with it even sweeter memories. "Mum used to sing that to me!"

"I-..." Elaine stopped, assuming she had overstepped a boundary. "My apologies, Bran! I didn't know!"

"Whatcha apologizin' for? I love that song!" Bran grinned, gesturing to the grave with a nod. "And mum loved it too."

"Roooh!" Fin-Fin howled in agreement.

"Oh, um...!" Elaine knitted her eyebrows, trying to hide the redness in her cheeks with her hands. "I'm sorry!"

"You apologize a whole bloody lot, ha-ha!" Bran giggled, patting Elaine on the back as he picked his backpack up and slung it across his shoulder with purpose. "Say, we should hit the trail, yeah? We've got about a thirty-minute walk to Glengrove ahead of us, so we'll have plenty of time to sing along the way!"

"Ha-ha, right!" Elaine beamed, leftover shades of bashful red still lingering on her face.

Strangely enough, the crushing weight on Elaine's shoulders began to lessen. Bran's glowing presence shone through her like morning rays of sunshine penetrating stained, weathered glass. Elaine found herself smiling, honestly, and truly.

****

Elaine could hardly believe just how stunning a real forest was up close as it surrounded her, encroaching on the winding trail she, Bran, and Fin-Fin walked along. Tree canopies stretched across the road, creating a natural woodland archway, specks of sunlight peeking through, flickering and dancing on the ground as the wind rustled their branches. Fin-Fin took up a majority of space on the empty trail, especially his tail as it swished about, dusting off loose blossoms which clung to Elaine's tunic.

"Ah, that tickles!" Elaine tittered, shooing away Fin-Fin's giant feather duster of an appendage.

"Rah!" Fin-Fin chirped at the birds as they flew by, paying no mind to Elaine's empty complaints.

"So, Princess...?" Bran clicked his tongue a few times before he could muster the courage to continue. "Um... since your father was the Emperor and you're gone, who's gonna be the new Emperor in his place or whatever?"

"My brother, Arthus. It's his job to keep the peace while I'm gone on my journey," Elaine answered, recounting the plan set out for her. "He's twenty-two, so he's much more responsible and useful than me, but I can't help but worry. With father gone, he has no one to help guide him, and yet here I am, having to rely on others to help me." she lamented, frowning as she kicked a pebble off the side of the trail. "Honestly, I shouldn't have even made it this far... I was supposed to do all of this when I was much older-- eighteen at the very least. But I suppose fate had other plans in store."

"Well, that sucks," Bran chortled, making farting noises with his mouth. "But at least you get to see the countryside, right? It's probably been a while since you've been out this way!"

"Actually... I've never left Gildhaven before, not even my own castle," Elaine chortled ashamedly, tapping her fingers together as she elaborated. "My father was... very protective of me."

"Wait, what?!" Bran stopped in his tracks as the information donned on him. "Really? Not once?"

"No, and father never did explain the reasoning behind it. Though, I'm sure it was justified; he never was the type to do something of the sort without reason," Elaine said with calculated confidence as she continued down the trail. "But it was quite irritating to see other children playing outside, just watching them instead of being there. I was-... I don't know. I've always felt like a spectator, peering into the 'what could have been'."

"Well, you're here now, aren't you? And you're not all grown up yet..." Bran chimed in, walking backward alongside Elaine. "So... wanna play I-Spy?"

"Oh, I know I-Spy!" Elaine's popped up like a spring at the game's mere mention. "Miss Iwan and I used to play it in the castle's flower gardens!" she simpered, a tidal wave of memories flooding back to her. "Who will go first?"

"Me first!" Bran's hand shot up high into the air. "Okay, okay! So... I-Spy with my little eye... something that is... big!"

"Bran, isn't that a somewhat nebulous descriptor?" Elaine crossed her arms, spotting more than a handful of objects in her immediate vicinity which would qualify as 'big'. "Err... that oak tree over there?"

"Nope!" Bran shook his head vigorously, making yet another farting noise as he prepared his second hint. "Okay... I-Spy with my little eye... something that has triangles!"

"Hmm..." Elaine began counting the number of vaguely triangular rocks laying about, totalling to about five or so. "That boulder over there?"

"Wrong again!" Bran chuckled, readying his third hint. "You only get one more! I-Spy with my little eye... something that is... invisible!"

"Wait, wh-what?! You can't d-do that! How can one even know s-something is-?!" Elaine pouted, searching desperately for something out of sight. "H-how am I supposed to-...?!" She huffed, sticking out her lower lip as she thought it over. "Hmm..." Then, it hit her; Fin-Fin had been out of eyeshot the whole game. "It's Fin-Fin! He's hiding somewhere!"

"Ding-ding!" Bran smirked, giving Elaine a thumbs-up. "You're golden, ha-ha! C'mon out Finny!"

"Rah!" Fin-Fin appeared out of thin air next to Elaine, appearing to phase out of existence itself. "Rah-rah!"

"By Gild's grace!" Elaine gasped, outstretching her hand to pet Fin-Fin just to be sure it wasn't some optical illusion. "How did you do that?!" Fin-Fin just snickered at the question. "Bran, how did he do that?!"

"Another special talent of Fin-Fin's! I dunno how he does it though-- never explains it to me 'cuz he can't speak Draconic [ii] like us," Bran laughed, running a hand through Fin-Fin's mane. "But he uses it to catch wild game and stuff; it's a big help!"

"I've never met a creature quite like you, Fin-Fin," Elaine said to the fantastic fox, to which Fin-Fin thanked her with a sopping wet lick on the cheek. "Ah! That's slimy!"

"I've only ever found one entry in my Walsh animal encyclopedia about Fin-Fin. It didn't say too much except how super-duper rare he was and that he can turn invisible," Bran explained grabbing the book out of his backpack and flipping to a bookmarked page. "Here, give it a look-see!"

"Oh, thank you," Elaine took the encyclopedia from Bran, examining the entry regarding Fin-Fin's species. "'Spectral Dire Fox: Highly elusive and exceptionally cunning with very little known about their appearance and even less known about their anatomy; the second-rarest animal in all of Walls (the first being the Flame-Veiled Wyrm respectively)'. Quite intriguing."

"Right...?" Bran grinned, taking back the large leather-bound book from Elaine and stuffing it snug in his backpack. "I don't think anyone's even gotten this close to one, so I must be pretty lucky, right, Fin-Fin?"

"Rah!" Fin-Fin yipped in a regal fashion, soaking up all of their praise like a prideful (and furry) sponge.

"Does he often turn invisible when you're in a town like Glengrove?" Elaine stroked the fur around Fin-Fin's shoulder as she walked alongside him, enjoying its plush texture. "I'm assuming such a large animal would be barred from entering."

"Ha-ha, yep! One time he only made his head visible and scared the living daylights out of a gilded priest!" Bran patted Fin-Fin on the head, to which the young fox simply rolled his eyes and smirked. "It was super funny, ha-ha!"

"Indeed," Elaine tee-heed, squinting as she noticed something up ahead on the trail. "Bran, I think there's something on the road over there- on my side."

"Ah, then we're close to Glengrove! That must be Brynmor's cart! He has the best deer jerky ever!" Bran cheered, practically tasting the salty, meaty delight on the tip of his tongue. "Wanna stop for some, Elaine?"

"Um..." Elaine twiddled her thumbs nervously before coming up with a response. "Okay."

"Ruh," Fin-Fin nudged Bran with his snout before he vanished out of thin air, trying to keep the young lad's one-track mind focused on the bigger picture.

"What'd I say?" Bran shrugged, reaching into his pocket for a handful of gilds. "Well, I'd kinda like one..." Bran winced as Fin-Fin breathed down his neck. "Rrrrghhh, okay! I'm sorry, I won't get one then. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Oi! Branny-Boy!" a husky, gravelled voice called out to Bran, sparking the lad's interest as soon as his ears picked up on it. "That you there?!"

"Hey, Brynmor!" Bran waved as the hulking tower of strength named Brynmor came into view, sitting on a cart full of freshly butchered venison and other wild delicacies. "How're you?"

Brynmor was a sturdy fellow, about one and a half Bran's in height with a shaven head and a substantial braided black beard. He was covered head to toe in dark leather and deer pelts, and on his person, he carried a bow and quiver along with an assortment of cutting tools attached to his belt. Brynmor wore a cheery, bright smile, in stark contrast to his rough-and-tumble mountain-man attire. Guarding his cartload of meat was his ever-faithful hunting dog Scraps, whose bushy hair drooped down over his face like a curtain.

"Heya, Scraps!" Bran stopped to reach out and give the mutt a pat on the head, welcoming Elaine to give him another for good measure. "Good boy!"

"What's your business today, lad? Got another catch for Cybil?" Brynmor inquired, noticing the lack of fish in Bran's knapsack. "Or are ya in for some other-?"

"Oh, darn it! I knew I was forgetting something! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Bran tousled his already wild hair into an even more agitated mess as he let out a low groan. "Bah, that's like the second most important thing and I forgot it when I was-! Ah... darn."

"Aha, well, at least ya kept the foxes fed, hey, Branny-Boy?" Brynmor let out a hearty guffaw, grabbing a piece of jerky off his drying rack and tossing it over to Bran. "Here, lad-- on the house for your troubles. That's got my famous seasoning on it- good stuff."

"Hey, thanks, Brynmor!" Bran was so entranced by his free piece of jerky that he completely forgot about why he got it in the first place.

"Don't mention it, lad," Brynmor tilted his head to the side as he noticed the shape of a girl standing behind Bran. "Who's that there, huh?"

"Um..." Elaine stepped out of hiding with her tail between her legs. "Hello, sir."

"Sir? Well, who's this pretty young lady then, Bran?" Brynmor chuckled. "You got yourself a woman already, or what?"

"Heh-heh!" Bran's cheeks flushed red almost in-sync with Elaine's as they distanced themselves from one another. "Nah, she's a friend I met down by the river! She was err... fishing for rainbow eels like me!"

"Really now? Well, she doesn't look the type, to be honest!" Brynmor teased, tossing Elaine a piece of jerky. "There ya go then. Every new customer gets one on the house." He paused, waiting for Elaine to take her first bite. "Well, go on then! Don't be shy! Have a nibble why don't ya?"

"Hmm..." Elaine raised an eyebrow at the foreign hunk of dried meat, cautious to even touch it with her tongue. But with Brynmor's eyes watching her every move, her sense of etiquette slowly but surely began to win over her anxiety. "Err..." she pressed her teeth together onto the chunk of dried deer meat, gnawing on it for a few seconds before a tiny, chewable piece broke off into her mouth. After about ten awkward seconds of swallowing, the taste of the jerky's potent seasoning made her forget all about the unpleasant texture. "Hmm... it's quite delectable, sir! Thank you for this treat!"

"Aha! I knew it! The seasoning never fails!" Brynmor snapped his finger, to which Scraps chimed in with a bark as Bran, Elaine, and Fin-Fin continued their trek to Glengrove. "You enjoy that, lass! And you come back again if you ever want some more, ya hear?!"

"Thanks, Brynmor!" Bran waved back to the jovial hunter as he took one last bite of his deer jerky before handing it off to his invisible canid companion. "Here ya go, Fin-Fin. You take the rest."

"Ah, I think I see our destination!" Elaine's voice was somewhat garbled by the bits of meat stuck in her teeth. "Is that Glengrove, Bran?"

Ahead of them was a bustling town of thatched houses and stone buildings, its streets filled with rowdy salesmen grasping gilds and Mehefin-heedful [iii] performers looking to practice before their busy month arrived. As the band of young travellers entered, they were immediately surrounded by the beckoning cries of businessmen and performers alike, looking to squeeze every second of attention they could from the gullible and unfocused. Orange and white Mehefin banners were being hung across Main Street one after the other, until the whole way looked as if a large fox was floating overhead, spreading good tidings for the month to come.

"It's not even Mehefin yet and there's already performers in Glengrove!" Bran's eyes were wide with excitement, enraptured by the travelling buskers and carnies on stilts. "Wow!"

"Is it always like this?!" Elaine inquired, staring up at a man on stilts as he waved at her from up on high. "It isn't even the eighth of Mehefin yet!"

"It wasn't like this yesterday, I can tell you that much, but it's the thirtieth of Mai right now, so performers are starting to work their way towards Gildhaven, ha-ha!" Bran clapped wildly as he witnessed a performer breathe fire from his gaping mouth, bellowing like a dragon. "Whoa! Bloody fantastic!"

"Okay, so, if I were a wizard where would I be...?" Elaine pondered for a moment, utilizing her whole field of view to try and spot a point of interest. "Hmm... Bran, what do you think?"

"Err... I dunno, really," Bran shrugged, his attention drawn to the jugglers tossing around apples. "Ah!" Bran gasped as he felt Fin-Fin's wet invisible tongue slide up the back of his neck. "Ah, sorry! Okay, umm... wizard, wizard, wizard, where's a wizard? What's a wizard look like? Has he got the pointy hat and staff with robes and stuff?"

"I am... unsure. I've never really seen a wizard before. I've only heard of them in old fairytales, really," Elaine sighed, at a loss in the whirlwind of carnival madness encircling her. "I suppose we should ask around. Is there anyone you can think of in Glengrove who would know where to find someone like Derfel?"

Bran took a moment to contemplate, then suddenly, it hit him, and he snapped his finger as an idea popped into his head. "Cybil, for sure! She knows everybody in Glengrove, and I mean everybody! She's got a market down by the riverside!" Bran snatched Elaine's wrist, tugging her towards his usual shortcut down a narrow back alley. "C'mon, Princess, let's head this way-!"

"'A wizard, a wizard' said the humble lad and his noble lass! But alas, alas, this lad and lass can't find their man! You're looking for a wizard named Derfel then, hmm...?" said an unfamiliar man's voice as smooth as silk, with all the slippery, suave allure of a snake; so sly and enunciated was his articulation that it sounded as if he were reciting a limerick. "I believe I may know where to find such a man, perhaps!"

Dangling from a windowsill overhead, and using only his left leg to support himself, was a man dressed in royal purple and forest green jester apparel: tall, athletic, and devilishly handsome, with piercing blue eyes and wavy, strawberry blonde hair which frilled at the end of each lengthy lock. The jester's chin was sharp, his cheekbones smooth and youthful, and his smile as white as Rhod [iv]. To accentuate his natural features, he wore makeup; a dash of baby blue paint for a drawn-on tear trail cascading down from his left eye, and for his right he used crimson dye, painting on a bloody, wicked streak which stretched past his brow-- the violent outburst of a tormented artist.

His jester tunic followed a patchwork motif with fluttering butterflies of opposite hue paired to a purple or green patch, creating quite a splendiferous optical overload. The odd tunic base was in stark contrast to its sleeves: dark leather gauntlets connected to matching pauldrons layered with fine, cloth-like chainmail underneath for added protection. On his head sat an impressive fool's hat, which mimicked the same motifs of his shirt, complete with two extraordinarily long, pointed flaps ending with polished, silver sleigh bells. The jester's trousers and footwear were less notable: simple, baggy grey pants and brown leather boots.

"You know where to find Derfel, mister?!" Bran laughed, amused by the jester's zany clothing and makeup.

"I'm new here, but I can assure you, I am quite the wellspring of knowledge. Don't let the fool's garb tell you otherwise," the jester giggled, juggling three multicoloured beanbags as he hung from the windowsill, swaying from side to side. "I believe the man you're looking for is at a local drinking establishment. Now, what was its name...? Hmm, it appears I've forgotten! Silly me."

"The Growling Grouse!" Bran piped up, watching in awe as the jester nonchalantly added a fourth and fifth beanbag to his juggling act. "Right?!"

"Indeed, indeed, good sir! That's the one!" said the dextrous fool, maintaining the juggling sequence with his left hand as his right gave Bran a congratulatory pat on the head. "You're a clever cookie, my boy, I can tell. And you've got quite the interesting posse here too." the jester winked, not at Bran or Elaine, but at the negative space between them where Fin-Fin was hiding; a supposedly invisible Fin-Fin. "Very interesting indeed."

The exposed fox was stunned into silence by the jester's menacing gaze.

"Um... Bran?" Elaine whispered, tugging on Bran's trousers with a noticeably grave, quiet urgency in the rhythm of her plucks. "We should really be going."

"Ah, where are my manners? I shouldn't keep you two any longer," the jester smirked, dropping to the ground whilst simultaneously tossing his beanbags into the air, all of which were caught in his back pocket one by one as he executed his daring jump with perfect posture. "Although... it would a pity not to play at least one game with such a wonderful audience." He snickered, waiting for Bran and Elaine to pass him by before revealing his last trick. "Young man...? Might I ask of you a few minutes of your time?"

Bran turned to face the jester, keeping Elaine and Fin-Fin close by. "What is it, mister?"

"I've got a game for you!" the jester sneered, a locket sliding out of his sleeve and landing in the palm his hand. "This is yours, correct?"

"How did you-?!" Bran hastily patted himself down, and much to his dismay, his priceless locket was nowhere to be found. "Hey! Give that back! That's not yours!" Without a second of hesitation, Bran clenched his fists tightly, sizing up the crafty trickster. "Give back her amulet, ya snake!"

"Bran, wait!" Elaine grabbed Bran by the shoulder, holding him back with all her strength. "Bran!" but it was no use; Bran broke away from her and charged at the jester. "Bran, stop! That's not-!"

"Such tenacity!" The jester cackled, dodging a right hook from Bran as the young lad came out swinging. "Such determination!" he bobbed and weaved through Bran's attacks with casual ease, dangling the amulet from his index finger all the while in a flamboyant, tantalizing fashion. "You have the qualities of a budding fine mage, young man! But, sadly..." he smirked, giving Bran a kick to the gut which sent him reeling back."Oh so predictable."

Luckily, Fin-Fin caught Bran in his fluffy mane before he could hit the ground.

"Bran!" Elaine tended to her travelling companion, checking for any serious wounds on his chest or head. "Bran! Fin-Fin! Wait!" she held the enraged duo back before they could retaliate. "Bran, that's not your necklace he's holding!"

"What do you mean?! It's right bloody-...!" Bran trailed off, watching in disbelief as the locket in the jester's hand suddenly vanished. "Wha-?"

"Hmm... you're quite the observant one, young lady," the jester chuckled, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Tell me... how did you figure it out?"

"You did something to Bran when you patted him on the head. Although, I'm not quite sure what it was," Elaine answered, an odd tingling sensation reverberating throughout her body. "But the real amulet isn't with you, is it?"

"Excellent detective work, young lady," The jester clapped for Elaine, then pointed to Bran as soon as he finished. "And, young man... check your neck again, would you?"

"What the-?!" Bran gawked at his mother's locket as it reappeared on his neck. "How did you do that?!" the young lad's rage had been swept away by sheer astonishment.

"Hmph... a magician never reveals his secrets. But it wasn't all that hard, I can assure you," the jester sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets as he began to wander off. "I'm sure Derfel will tell you all about it."

"Hold on a sec, mister!" Bran stopped him before he could step out onto the street, grasping his amulet tightly in the palm of his hand. "What's your name?"

"It's Bink. I'd love to stay and play, but I really must be going. I enjoyed our little scuffle while it lasted, but, regrettably... I have bigger fish to fry," the jester replied, disappearing into the crowd of entertainers. "Ta-ta! Adieu! Arrivederci! Adiós! Perhaps I'll have another game for us to play when we see each other again!"

"H-hey, wait up!" Bran stuttered, gobsmacked by how quickly Bink vanished. "Bloody hell... what was all that about?!"

"I'm not sure," Elaine concluded, helping Bran back on his feet. "But I know for a fact that he is not our friend."

"Ruh!" Fin-Fin huffed, planning to chomp on the jester's ankle if he ever saw him again. "Rah!" He yipped, licking off some dirt on Bran's cheek.

"Ha-ha! Finny! That tickles!" Bran laughed, petting Fin-Fin. "You should vanish again-- wouldn't want anyone to see you, buddy."

"Ruh," Fin-Fin nodded, phasing out of sight.

"So, do you think we should trust information given to us by such a conniving man?" Elaine asked, dusting off Bran's tunic.

"Well... even if he was lying, I'm sure the barkeep at The Grouse would have heard about Derfel, right? Barkeeps know bloody everything, ha-ha," Bran scratched his neck, then proceeded to slowly twist his aching spine; Bink's kick packed quite the wallop. "So, err- guess we better get goin', huh?" despite his injury, Bran pressed on with his usual chipper attitude. "C'mon!"

"Rah!" Fin-Fin barked, running after Bran.

"Right," Elaine agreed, following Bran and Fin-Fin as they continued down the alleyway. In spite of her focused exterior demeanour, deep down, Elaine felt an overwhelming sense of uncertainty regarding recent circumstance. "That sensation when he touched you on the head... and then when the necklace reappeared... could you feel it too, Bran?"

"You mean the weird tickling feeling? Yeah, I dunno what that was," Bran shrugged it off, keeping his tunnel-vision glued to the task at hand. "Probably part of the magic trick, I guess. He was kinda weird... and a bit of a downright arse too, wasn't he?"

"He certainly was," Elaine's brow furrowed as she arranged the mystery that was Bink like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle in her head; but far too many pieces were missing to make even a conjecture just yet. "But that jester mentioned Derfel too... do they know each other?"

****

"Here's your ale, sir!" a barmaid sang, setting down two iron tankards full of frothy, golden ale down onto her customer's table. "I apologize for the temperature- too bloody hot outside today!"

This particular customer was no regular at The Growling Grouse (or "regular" in general for that matter). He sat in the very corner of the bar, away from prying eyes, with only the light of dim lantern hanging overhead to reveal his visage, partially obscured by his ragged fur cloak and hood. Peeking out of his cape the barmaid could see his blue robes and a belt full of mystical, alien items: a pouch with some strange powder-like substance inside, multiple leather-bound books inscribed with indecipherable symbols, a translucent orb held in a spherical, leather holder, and a conical talisman hanging down to his waist; compared to the ruffians and wandering warriors the barmaid was used to serving, this man was of another breed entirely.

"It's alright, lass," he raised his head ever so slightly to make eye contact with the barmaid, sharing with her his kind, forgiving eyes. "I'll manage." his face, however, was concealed by a rusty old knight's helmet, resulting in a low echo whenever he spoke. "Here..." the mysterious mystic slid a golden gild [v] across his table towards the barmaid. "For your troubles." Something else of note was his hands- clad in rusted gauntlets, similar in overall design to his helmet.

"Well, blow me down!" the barmaid nearly choked up at the sight of the golden gild as its glint reflected in her eye. With the voracity of an imp, she snatched the coin, tucking it away in her bosom. "'Scuse my Ifrish [vi], but who the hell are you anyway, sir? Not bringin' any shady business here, are ya?"

"I'm no one of consequence, I promise you that. I'm expectin' a young drinkin' buddy to arrive any minute now," he laughed, the sides of his tankard fogging up as his hand wrapped around the handle. The barmaid could feel a cold breeze go by as he slowly lifted the ale up to his face, chilling it with his icy grip. "Thanks for the pint, lass."

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[i] Mai: the May equivalent in the world of Anu associated with "The Seahorse", a Zodiac Sign in Walls who is a patron to salesmen and those in finance. A minor holiday known as "The Day of Wealth" is held on the 13th of Mai where merchants and businessmen down on their luck offer The Seahorse a gild in local fountains so that he will bless them with good fortune.

[ii] Draconic: most widespread and widely-used language in all of Anu- their English equivalent.

[iii] Mehefin: the June equivalent in the world of Anu; it is a month of games and festivals in celebration of "The Fox", a revered Zodiac Sign in Walls who is a patron to tricksters and performing artists. The main event, "The Day of Games" is held on the 8th of Mehefin when every performer in Walls gathers in major cities across the Walsh Empire, but Gildhaven- the capital -especially.

[iv] Rhod: one of Anu's moons.

[v] Golden gild: the highest tier of coin currency in the Empire of Walls- equivalent to approximately $100 in our world.

[vi] Ifrish: the primary language of one of Anu's mortal races, the Ifritin.