The Landlord

III

Dagmar is back in the morning with the wood.

"It's basically a doorframe that stands on its own," she explains. "We can start building it behind your house. You have to get a wizard to do the enchantment though."

"Great," I say, not thinking it was great at all.

"There are so many wizards at EastFest that you won't be able to swing a dead cat without hitting one."

What is with her and swinging dead cats?

I take some of the wood and we go behind my tiny house. Mrs. Quilliam, who lives in the cottage across from mine, eyes us with suspicion, but I wave a friendly wave and she scoffs and moves on.

It takes about four hours, but we get the first portal built. We hammered the nails into the fine wooden planks and stood them against the back of my house. Then we build the door, attaching the hinges before placing the big, wooden door on its frame.

"There," Dagmar says. "Now you can lock it and keep pests out."

It's a good idea.

We go to the inn for some food. I have to dip into my fun fund, but it's so little I won't even notice. I still have enough to buy plenty of dragon ash once I get to EastFest. We get some stew and bread and Dagmar sits at the bar with me. We drink ale that doesn't have too much foam and listen to a musician strumming some stringed instrument.

"I've never been to EastFest," Dagmar confesses. "You have, right?"

"Right," I say. "It was amazing. The music was unlike anything you'll hear in any of the other kingdoms. And the sounds. Dag, you can see the sounds!"

"That sounds hard to believe."

"You'll change your tune when we get there," I say.

I set the two glow stones and the small offering of woodling eyes in the doorway before closing it and latching it. I was proud of our handiwork.

We go our separate ways and I pack my things, getting ready for the cart that takes me to EastFest. I should be able to find wood while I'm there, but I make sure to pack my woodling eyes and glow stones with the rest of my gear. My most comfortable clothes are in there, the stuff that's best for dancing.

When night falls, I go back up to my loft. It no longer feels like the world caving in on me. Things were going as planned.

The following day, the cart was outside my house, waiting patiently for me. I had already paid the driver and I didn't intend to waste the money. I grab my pack and rush out the door, going back real quick to lock up. Then I'm in the cart.

"Eastern Kingdom?" the driver asks. He has a long, thick black beard and mustache. I nod and he nods back and says "ee-YAH!" to the horses, and we're off.

It's a long, uneventful ride, and I made sure to pay for the whole carriage so I'd have it to myself. I thought I would be able to sleep but it turns out the carriage and the horses are noisy as hell. So I sit there, wishing I had brought something to do or something to read.

We go through the forest and past the mountains to the grasslands just outside of Centralia. The grasslands are dangerous due to the big cats that stalk their prey out there, but the driver seems confident that they won't be a problem.

Night begins to fall, and in the distance, I see the lights of Centralia. It was quite beautiful. I had never seen the city before. The last time I went to EastFest, we took a long way around and picked up multiple passengers. Never. Again.

"We're going to stop at a place in the city," says the driver. "Your room and board is already taken care of."

It was smart to travel in first class. I saved up for a full year to make sure this time was perfect, and it was all going to be worth it in the end.