Songs of Souls

003: The Scents of Home

Solus' Light smiles on Eard today. Its familiar symphony filled Zevas' senses. Hammer blows punctuated cheerful chatter, a chorus of laughter carried on the sea breeze. A smile tugged at his lips as he inhaled deeply, the unique blend of brine, woodsmoke, and blooming wildflowers a comforting assault on his nose. The smell reminded him of... days spent adventuring in the quaint village square, pretending to be a knight errant on a noble quest.

Though not from here, the scent reminded him of home, the kind of scent that only this little village could own.

Shoulders relaxed with each step onto familiar cobblestone, a tension he hadn't even noticed melting away. Here, the sharp vigilance ingrained in him felt foolish, almost out of place. "Ah... Been years since I last visited," He ran a hand through his beard, with a faint smile on his lips. "Time flies, doesn't it?"

A group of giggling children swarmed around him, their voices a chorus of playful squeals. "KHAHAHA-KAHAHAHA!" His laughter exploded, a rapid burst of sound that made them jump. One brave child, hair smelling faintly of sweet jasmine, reached out a tiny hand and patted his beard.

"Ahoy there, little sand crab!" He boomed playfully. "Careful, or you might find a treasure chest full of candied seashells hidden in my head!"

He laughed, mimicking a jar of clinking treats "CHINK-A-CHINK!", setting off a cascade of giggles. The children scattered across the light-dappled square, their squeals ringing in his ears. He shook his head, a goofy grin splitting his face. "Sweet as honeycakes, these little ones," he chuckled to himself.

As he strolled through the village, he exchanged jokes and greetings with everyone he passed – a whiff of sweat tickling his nose, the tang of a day's honest labor. Laughter, loud and boisterous, carried on the wind from the shore. There, some villagers sat, crafting beautiful trinkets from the smooth, colorful stones that decorated the shore. Their fingers blurring as they worked. The polished stones glittered in the waxing light of morning, catching his eye.

"Well, well, if it isn't the one and only Zevas Lokspfeil!" An old lady looked up from her work, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of her eyes. "Fancy seeing you with all your limbs intact this fine waxlight!"

He cackled, throwing his head back. "Ouch, Balley!" he feigned a wince, clutching his chest theatrically. "Your words sting like unripe berries! Haven't I told you enough stories about my amazing adventures, or is your memory soured from all that vinegar you use for pickling?"

The closer he got to his dear friend's house, the stronger the hearty smell of fish grew. A young fisherman sat fixing his net.

"Good waxlight, lad!" he boomed, puffing out his beard with a theatrical grin. "Tell me, does this glorious beard of mine not make you yearn for the open sea? A true sign of a seasoned sailor!"

The fisherman rolled his eyes playfully. "Aye, it's a real beauty alright. Bet all sorts of sea critters love to make a cozy home in there!"

Surrounded by a garden bursting with colorful flowers, the village elder's house promised a welcome respite from the day's journey. A bunch of colorful stone wind chimes hanging in the doorway clinked a happy tune in the sea breeze.

He gave the old wooden door a loud knock with the back of his axe. "Pythair! You better have a barrel of that strong Kreginnian ale ready!" he boomed. "My gullet's as parched as driftwood baked by the zenith light of midday!"

The door creaked open, revealing Pythair's wrinkled face stretched into a wide grin. The scent of pungent herbs and old bandages hit him first, a familiar aroma from Pythair's work. "Zevas! My old friend, come on in! What a pleasant surprise to see you!" Pythair ushered him inside, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Although, I'm afraid tonight's drinks might not be as strong as you're used to."