1 YEAR LATER

INGVALD - MARKET DISTRICT

-WALDO-

“What do you mean it’s fifty pips!?” Waldo demanded, stabbing his index finger into the shopkeeper’s chest. The plump-but-muscular human stood up to his full height, his head brushing the awning of his stall, and slapped the youth’s hand away, pointing his own finger back into Waldo’s face.

“Fifty golden pips was the price for the breastplate before you got rude. Now it’s one hundred golden pips, AND an apology.”

Waldo bristled and could feel his face turning red.

“You’re a two-bit swindler!” the young Ilfin shouted, making sure the whole marketplace could hear. In his peripheral vision, Waldo could see several people stop what they were doing to watch the interaction.

Perfect, he thought to himself.

“That’s right,” he continued, placing his hands on his hips smugly, “you’re nothing more than a conman! If I was someone interested in wares, I’d go elsewhere.” Waldo chuckled at his own wit and smirked, turning to look at the gathered crowd.

Dozens of angry faces greeted him. But they weren’t glaring at the shopkeeper, they seemed to be glaring at Waldo.

That can’t be right, he thought, they must need a little extra prompting.

“What’s this?” Waldo feigned as though he couldn’t hear well, and lifted a palm behind his ear in a caricature of deafness. He suddenly gasped.

“He just called me a dagger ear!”

That’s right, pile on some discimination, Waldo thought, I’ll make him look like a fool.

“I can’t believe you’d use such a grievous slur against me, good sir!” Waldo continued with the act, watching as the shopkeeper grew more visibly angry, his face red and his large body shaking.

The crowd that had formed now seemed angrier too. There was quiet muttering all through the marketplace.

I’ve got him right where I want him, Waldo thought, his smirk widening, let the rumor mill churn. Now he’ll do anything to make it up to me.

There were practically pipmarks in Waldo’s eyes, as he greedily imagined the heaping wealth he would be able to finagle out of this idiot shopkeeper. His imagination went wild, and he envisioned walking into the most expensive tavern in town and hurling golden pips this way and that, foolish drunks leaping to the floor to catch just a taste of his glittery generosity. He’d laugh and hurl coin, while women would hang on his arm.

Beautiful, buxom women…

Filled with the confidence of his fantasy, Waldo wheeled in place and pointed again with full authority at the shopkeeper.

“That’s unacceptable! Someone as prejudiced as you shouldn’t be allowed to get away with those sorts of comments! I’ll bet you overcharged me for that leather breastplate because I’m Ilfin as well! I hope everyone here chooses to never do business with y--”

“...Papa?”

A small, squeaky voice interrupted Waldo’s monologue. He stopped, and noticed a little girl had appeared next to the shopkeeper, tugging on his arm. She looked all of six years old. She had concerned, blue eyes, and light brown hair that didn’t seem to match the coloring of the man she was clinging to. But Waldo hardly registered that as he immediately zeroed in on the child’s long, pointed ears.

Ilfin.

“Uh-oh,” Waldo muttered under his breath.

“What is he talking about Papa?” The little girl asked, her brow furrowed.

The shopkeeper gave Waldo a threatening look and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Waldo glanced nervously around at the frozen audience to this event.

I can save this… think, Waldo!

He cleared his throat, and adopted a confident tone again, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“I see you’ve kidnapped some poor half-Ilfin child to do your bidding and sweep your floors. You probably have her slaving away and sleeping outside in the cold! Does your depravity know no bounds?!”

“Sweetheart,” came another voice from inside the door behind the stall, “what’s all this noise?”

Waldo froze, a look of comic surprise and fear painted on his face. A beautiful woman with ginger-colored hair appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were a sparkling green, and her ears long and pointed, even more so than the little girl’s. Waldo felt that he could hear the actual mental processes of the market goers as they likely were flashing back and forth between the woman’s ears, and Waldo’s. The similarities would be unending.

You’ve got to be kidding me! Waldo thought.

“Alright, alright,” Waldo said, trying once more to turn the situation to his favor, “it’s clear that you’ve purchased an entire coven of Ilfin girls because of your predilections. You, scoundrel, are disgusting! I will be on my way good s-”

The shopkeeper had moved with a surprising speed, and the last thing Waldo saw was the man’s monstrous fist flying toward his face.

BLAM!

--

Waldo groaned.

He was sitting against the rough brick of an alleyway wall, nursing his aching skull. He pulled out the small mirror he kept in his breast pocket and unclasped the clamshell, revealing his own reflection.

Under his mane of ash blonde hair, a bruised face with a huge black eye greeted him. His reflection frowned back at him and he shook his head. The mullet he’d fashioned fluttered with his movements, and now he thought that it looked silly.

“Fantastic, so much for my money maker,” he said, and snapped the mirror closed angrily, depositing it back into his shirt.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, the Ilflin lifted himself from the ground and straightened out his collar, retying the red scarf around his neck. He picked the end up from the ground. He’d purchased it to be worn long, and now it was getting dirty since every time he sat, it dragged along the floor or ground.

“Well, I guess I’m going to make my showing looking like a real tough guy,” he said aloud and puffed his chest out.

“I can work that angle. It will look like I can handle combat!” he proclaimed to the empty alleyway excitedly. He nodded, exiting the narrow passage into the street beyond with a big cocky smile.

The moment he was in the view of the throngs of market goers though, he heard a whistle. Waldo snapped his head in the direction of the sound. A bent-backed old man lifted his hand in greeting from behind a stall on the other side of the road.

“Oy! Weakling! I got some Curses you can buy to get revenge on whatever bully popped you a good one!” The old man cackled, and it reminded Waldo of a warbling crow.

Waldo bristled, and could tell his face was getting red. He balled his fists.

“I’ll pop you a good one, old man!” Waldo shouted. “Don’t make me come over there!”

“Pah! With the state of you, I think I’ll be fine! You sure you don’t want to buy a Ward of Protection? There’s some tough looking eight year olds up the road, and I’d hate to see you with two black eyes!”

Waldo snarled.

“You’re lucky I’m late for something, or I’d blast you into fairy dust!”

“Get lost, Fairy Dust,” the old man dismissed, waving Waldo away, “you’re gonna make my customers sad.”

“If you had any customers, you wouldn’t be hassling me!” Waldo called, and before the old man could respond, he began running down the street, desperately attempting to look urgent and important. As he rounded the corner, however he could hear the distinct cackle of the old man.

Waldo kept his quick pace for a few blocks, and as he did, he moved past various businesses and merchants. Three taverns. Two inns. A pleasant looking bakery that smelled strongly of sweetbread. That made his stomach grumble, and he slowed his pace finally to catch his breath. As he gulped down air, he took in his surroundings. Really, he’d never been to Ingvald before, and had been running along, hoping he’d stumble onto the right location. He was at the cusp of a large, open area, and realized that he could see the city walls nearby. He had to be close.

The street he was currently standing in was forged by red cobblestones, each with the royal emblem of Ingvald emblazoned on them. It was a three-point shield with a ram’s head. Above the symbol was a little four-pronged crown.

“That must be something!” he announced, to no one in particular. A woman walking by paused to regard him.

“Did you say something to me?” she asked, pointing to herself. She had long brown hair, and was wearing a pink satchel stuffed to the brim with packages.

“Uh, no, sorry,” Waldo admitted, lowering his head. Without looking up or waiting for a response, he darted forward, away from the woman and down the street, his red scarf fluttering behind him.

“Ah, so awkward,” he muttered to himself. He could imagine the surprise the woman must have felt, being so unceremoniously abandoned, mid conversation.

He kept running, until he reached the spot where the buildings gave way to the large area, and he skid to a stop. Beyond, he could see the manicured grounds of Ingvald’s famous Masterwork Gardens. Artfully groomed trees dotted the green grass that swelled into inviting hills. The sparse fauna seemed to grow more dense the further the gardens grew, until, just at the edge of his reckoning, Waldo could almost swear was a lush forest. To his right was the glittering Gold Gate that led from the city of Ingvald proper to the Gossamer Castle, the seat of power in the Kingdom. At the entrance to the next ward, Waldo could see a dozen guards, dutifully patrolling.

He stood in awe.

“Wooooooah,” he said, his mouth slack, “that’s big.”

“MOVE IT, PEASANT!”

Waldo was shoved, quite roughly, and knocked onto his back as a train of armor clad warriors marched by. Each was uniform in their sparkling silver mantle and tall seafoam and gray feathers sprouting from their full helms. The long powder-green tabards they wore were adorned with a silver Sea Goat.

“Capricorn,” Waldo said, and scrambled to stand.

The soldiers moved in unison, and didn’t pay him any further mind. The one in the lead, who had pushed Waldo sneered as he commanded the display. He had long, fiery red hair and a black diamond partial-faceplate that jutted from his pauldron. On his breastplate was the Sea Goat symbol, but beneath it was a three pronged crown.

At the end of the line of soldiers was a form, and Waldo’s breath caught in his throat.

A beautiful woman marched, eyes forward, a few paces behind the rest of the men. Her full plate armor was crafted of white gold, and hugged her frame in a way that Waldo might have dubbed grossly unnecessary. A seafoam cape hung from her shoulders, and was made of fine fabric, rustling as she marched along. Her hair was pale blue, and quite shiny, pulled up in a loose bun that highlighted to Waldo, her most important feature. Her ears had just the vaguest indication of a point.

“Quarter Ilf,” the man breathed. Ilfin, like Waldo, were rare in the world, but not unheard of. Times had begun to change in the last generation, and prejudices against non-human races were cooling, so it wasn’t even entirely unique to see a half-Ilfin, like the shopkeeper’s daughter. But someone with a quarter ancestry was a bizarre sight. It meant that someone, two generations ago, had defied the now-outlawed Royal Decree of the Purity that had been in place for almost six hundred years. The decree had dictated that no human should marry or reproduce with a member of the Ilfin or the Ork.

She seemed quite serious. Her face had a hard edge to it, one accustomed to rule, and Waldo did not doubt for a moment that she was a woman of aristocracy, and, based on her garb, martial in a capable capacity.

As Waldo watched the woman walk past, he couldn’t help but try to catch her eye. He cleared his throat. Her hardened, blue eyes were like chips of ice, and landed on him for a moment. He turned his head to the side to showcase his ears--in his mind, a prestigious heritage.

Full Ilfin, baby.

But the woman rolled her eyes and huffed, her gaze returning to the soldiers in front of her. Waldo sighed.

“No one appreaciates Ilfin blood anymore,” Waldo said, raising a tentative hand to the tips of his prominent feature and giving them a squeeze, "not even even Ilfin themselves."

“Oh, well,” he continued, “onward.”

He waited for the train to disappear into the golden gates beyond. Many other illustriously attired denizens made their way into the open threshold, each with their own symbols of valor or rank. Waldo felt very suddenly that he was underdressed for the event. His clothing, while not of poor quality, was worn, and in places had been mended or were somewhat dirty from road travel. He watched carefully as everyone who made their way forward presented a sapphire badge to the waiting guardsmen.

Waldo removed his own access key, the blue gem carved with the same Royal symbol that had decorated the red flagstones. With a deep breath, he moved forward. A guard approached him.

“Merit?” the soldier said, eyeing Waldo curiously. He was a younger man, but bore an overabundance of scars on his face and neck. A thin black mustache perched on the man’s upper lip.

“Here you are, ole chum,” Waldo said, presenting the badge confidently. The guard snatched the stone from his hands and examined it critically, his eyes moving to the Ilfin’s face and then back to the item.

“Very well,” he said, and tossed the sapphire back to Waldo, “don’t get many of you lot in here.”

“Then you should feel blessed,” Waldo said, closing his eyes reverently, and stowing the object away safely in his shirt, “and don’t forget the day Waldo Oleander arrived at the capital.” But when he’d opened his eyes, Waldo saw that the guard had moved on to someone else.

Drat!

Shrugging his shoulders, Waldo entered the gate.

The next stretch was filled with all manner of folk. A dazzling display of nobles and commoner alike, swam in front of him. He could see lots of armor, fine fabric, and magnificent cloaks. Above the entire assembly lorded a terrace. Waldo could tell from its construction that it was meant to be primary and important.

“That’s probably the dais that the King shits on the people from,” the Ilfin mused.

If only Grandmother could see me now!

However, Waldo couldn’t help but feel out of place. His clothing was definitely more dingey than the average here. He frantically searched for a familiar face or someone of equal station. After a moment, his eyes rested on a pair near the inner wall.

A youth, near Waldo’s own age-- he assumed, with a worn and dusty wool cap, was relaxing, one foot propped up on the stone of the wall. He had a softened expression, but seemed tall for his age, as if he’d grown too quickly over a summer. Next to him, only a touch shorter than his companion, was an older man, graying hair and a serious expression. He looked like he was a fighter. The older man was busying himself with a cob pipe, attempting to light it. Their faces looked similar, and Waldo, naming himself a keen eye, made the assessment that they were probably father and son. However, as had happened several times today, and never before, he noticed the boy’s ears.

“My people,” Waldo remarked, and edged his way toward the two.

“Business or pleasure?” he asked as he arrived near them, and the two regarded him with an aloof interest.

“Neither,” the older man finally said. His voice was deep and rough, and Waldo decided immediately that he didn’t want to make this one angry. The boy though, seemed a bit more receptive to the Ilfin’s greeting. He gave a wry smile and nodded.

“Neither,” he echoed the words of his father.

“Ah,” Waldo said, nodding as well, “kindred spirits then.” He tossed the end of his scarf over his shoulder and saluted them in the traditional Ilfin style of an open, forward facing palm, his pinky pointing down.

“Eluva da daiasi,” he said.

“Retta daiasi,” they responded in unison, but didn't present the salute.

“Oleander Waldo,” the Ilfin said, “of the Cerise.”

“Alder Carthage. And Hutch,” said the older man, dismissively, “of Berrywood.”

Waldo smiled. Focusing, he tried to pick up on their resonance, looking for an aura, but couldn’t see one.

Shame.

“What brings you here on this hallowed day?” Waldo asked, trying his best to sound formal.

“The same as you, most like,” Alder answered, nudging his chin to the dais above. A figure had emerged from the castle and was making their way along the terrace.

“The Adventurer Appointment Ceremony.”

Waldo began to respond, but a clear peal of fanfare rang out, and the crowd that had gathered cheered. Waldo froze. The boy had shifted and faced him more fully and now he could see his eyes. One of his eyes was a pretty, lavender color. The other was monstrously morphed, the pupil slit like a beasts and the iris itself an iridescent green.

This is interesting.