Element Sense

Chapter Two- Tybalt

Alyss made her way down the well-worn path she had made what seemed like ages ago as a child. Sadon and Josselyn were the only two besides herself she had entrusted its secret to and they guarded it well. In her mind, this was her path and the village it led to was her village. It seemed it had always been so and would- hopefully -never cease to be so. It was just right.

Alyss shook her thoughts off and continued down the trail. She honestly could have done it in her sleep-she was so accustomed to it. But she forced herself to focus. No use in being overconfident in her abilities and being unaware of something important. She knew most people would take this opportunity to take a leisurely stroll, free from the demands of their daily lives. And if there were thieves around, they would find these people lax and easy to rob. So Alyss kept her senses sharp, although her deft eyes would generally be able to discern if something was off in any way.

She glanced, hidden in the tall grass, at the trail that travelers often took to enter the village, peddling goods. Taking care not to be spotted, Alyss silently emerged. She paused for a moment, straightening her dress, and resumed walking. After about five or so minutes, she arrived at the sign that never failed to lift her spirits. An old weather-beaten wooden sign that hung from a relatively sheltered branch not too far above her with the words "Welcome to Mercaria" carved beautifully into it.

Although the village was relatively well-off, they kept that sign to pay a sort of tribute to the previous generations who had toiled to make it the way it was today: a prosperous trading center that still retained its moral values. Alyss walked her usual path, greeting villagers along the way. They greeted her by name and wore genuine smiles when doing so, something the nobles would never be able to sincerely achieve. 

It was always, "Princess this" and "Princess that" accompanied by fake smiles that were painfully obvious to her in court. The use of her title in place of her name always made her feel detached, as if she were some faceless entity with the sole purpose of looking royal. She made sure the servants who saw to her always addressed her by name when the nobles or other persons of authority were out of earshot; she didn't want them to receive punishments, after all. As a result, Alyss had more than just a working relationship with them.

They opened up to her once they realized that she was a good listener who sincerely cared about their problems. Alyss would listen to what they had to say, contemplate upon their woes, choose what she thought to be the best course of action, and then verbalize her opinions. The servants would take her advice to heart and go about finding a means to make it a reality. In other cases, she would have their family members properly seen to if they had a wound or sickness.  

The combination of these characteristics made the servants enjoy taking care of her in any way possible and it often relieved them of their stress when they talked to her. But the regard they held her in seemed almost goddess-like at times, with all their admiration and respect. Alyss realized that she should be flattered by this, but she wasn't. In her mind, she was still an outsider to all of them-excepting Josselyn and Sadon-and would continue to be so.

She shook her head of those thoughts and turned toward the wooden cabin that had become her home. A small ball of white fluff came hurtling towards her and she caught it in her arms and spun him around, laughing, while he barked and licked her face, somehow managing to do both simultaneously. "Althalos!" She chided. She guessed her scolding wouldn't have much of an impact coupled with her mirth. Giving up, she wiped her face and opened the door, heading inside, excited dog in hand.

"I'm home!" Alyss called out, "And I brought the little mushroom too." Althalos barked then, as if to punctuate her words. Jaquelyn walked in, smiling at the picture the two of them made. She offered her a loaf of bread baked from barley and rye along with a bowl of pottage-a thick soup-with onion, spinach, parsley, and an extra ingredient that was a secret she would never divulge. "After all, what's to keep you from returning home if you don't have any pottage awaiting your arrival?" She would ask, although she knew that nothing could ever stop her from coming if she were able.