I was at a loss. The world moved around me but I didn’t notice anything more than indistinct shapes.

Father had been chosen, I had been dismissed. That was what I knew. People in the crowd kept trying to talk to me, but it wasn’t until I heard the Herald’s voice again that I snapped out of my fog.

“Those of you who have been dismissed may now leave,” he began, crossing the threshold of the platform. I looked around me. There were not many people left standing. The soldiers that had accompanied the Artemis family must have left, as I didn’t see or hear them.

“If you failed to be Appointed, then you may try again at the next Sequence. As of now, our Astronomers tell us that it will take place in three years, in the Summer.”

I felt a dagger of panic wedge right into my stomach and lungs. I’d have to wait three years to try again? That was so long! Anything could happen in three years, and I’d have no way of getting stronger without Father…

Everything was a blur. Words were said, but they were muted and hollow. I knew that at some point we’d been ushered out of the Hall, but that was a faded memory. My feet moved, and I wandered hazily in the twilight.

--

“You want anything, sweetheart, or are you just resting on your laurels?” A woman asked me. She was perhaps in her late twenties, with hair the color of peachskin and pale green eyes. She had a tired look to her face, but it was also kind.

Ah, the barmaiden.

I was sitting on a bench at a long table in a tavern. It had been the first public house I’d encountered after leaving the castle, and I’d found a spot to sit, but I’d been so drawn into my thoughts I hadn’t done much else.

What was this place called again?

I looked behind the barmaiden and saw a dozing bartender manning a huge counter, above him, there was a painted emblem of a man laying on his back, holding an apple.

Oh, right, the Drunken Beggar.

“Oh, uh, I’ll have…”

I felt for my coin purse. It was pathetically light. I didn’t know if I’d have enough money for a place to stay, let alone eat.

“He’ll have the boar stew,” said a voice, “and mulled cider. On me”

I looked to my right. Sitting on the bench a few feet away was a familiar form. Blond, pageboy hair and oversized traveling clothes, it was the young boy from earlier. Next to him was the old woman, her staff resting on against her as she shuffled a deck of cards, staring intently at them.

“As you wish,” the barmaiden said, turning and heading toward the long ordering counter.

“Uh, thank you,” I said sheepishly, “but you really don’t have to buy me anything. I don’t know if I can repay you.”

“Repay me with the tale or your origin, and that will be enough for us,” the boy said, motioning to his companion as well. The woman still didn’t look up, but began laying her cards face down on the tabletop in a circular pattern.

The boy had a peculiar way of speaking, for a child. His manner and tone were extremely confident, and he sounded as though he was far more intelligent than his appearance let on. His voice was quite young sounding, but his responses were thoughtful and measured.

“Okay,” I said, still stunned by the recent events, “thank you. I’m Hutch. Hutch Carthage.”

“Yes, I saw your showing at the Appointment Ceremony,” the boy said, “you have a very interesting Adventure Class.” He was smiling, but then he seemed to realize himself, and reached his hand out.

“I’m Nox,” he said and then thrust his thumb over his shoulder at his companion, “and this is Ragna.” The woman had removed a few glittering gems from a satchel and was placing them in the center of the organization of cards.

“Well met,” I said, shaking his hand, “I presume the two of you failed as well?”

Nox chuckled.

“No, we didn’t fail,” he said scratching the side of his head, “we were just there as spectators. These sort of events really entertain us.”

I nodded.

“I can see the appeal,” I said, “there’s a lot of pageantry to something like these ceremonies. Lots of nobles with too much money and time on their hands, playing like they’re gods.”

I was paraphrasing my father. He was historically very opposed to the designs of the aristocracy. He’d occasionally gotten into disputes with others back in the village over the subject.

“Indeed,” Nox said, tapping a finger to the side of his face, “these nobles are silly creatures, aren’t they? Always caterwauling about their gripes with the common folk, or extolling ad nauseum about their idiotic pasttimes or achievements.”

“I suppose so,” I said, “honestly, I haven’t met many, but I know that they’ve never done anything for my family, and seem to regard us harshly, so, I’m pessimistically indifferent.”

Nox nodded.

“You are a strange sort, aren’t you, Hutch Carthage?”

His demeanor was so congenial, and reminded me of someone much older. Could he really be as old as he looked? I felt strange, as if something was suddenly pulling me away from the conversation. I had a very pointed headache right behind my left eye.

“I’m sorry if this is rude, but you look so much younger than me, but you speak so eloquently,” I said, shaking my head, “what gives?”

Nox leaned in close to me. I could see what looked like a burning fire irises in his eyes, and his pupils were as black as coal.

“I am a Cambion,” he said.

I leaned in as well.

“What’s a Cambion?”

“Well, I am a hybrid of demon and human.”

I slid back on my seat suddenly. Demons were pure evil incarnate, and loved nothing more than to torture and devour humans. They were so dangerous that I’d even heard that an entire faction of the Equites existed solely to root them out. This had to be some sort of prank. There’s no way this boy could be a demon hybrid.

Could he?

Neither of us said anything for a moment, we just stared at one another. The barmaid approached awkwardly, and set my cider down in front of me. She set a drink in front of Nox as well.

“I’ll come back…” she said, before slipping away.

The two of us continued to look at each other. Nox picked up his mug while still keeping his eyes locked on mine. He took a deep draught, then set the mug down. A thin white mustache had appeared on his upper lip, though he seemed to realize it quickly, and wiped his mouth. I sniffed the air.

“Are you drinking… milk?” I asked.

Nox nodded seriously, still staring at me.

“Yep.”

There was a hard finality to the end of his word, as if egging me on. I shook my head.

“Wait, why are we glaring at each other?” I asked.

Nox suddenly smiled.

“I dunno,” he said, “I thought maybe you were going to attack me for being a Cambion. People hate demons, even halfies like me.” His tone and cadence had turned a bit more boyish suddenly.

“Well, I’m half-human myself,” I said, flicking the tip of my ear, “so I probably have no room to judge.”

“Splendid,” he said, “I guess I won’t have to eat you then.”

“Wait, what?!”

“I’m just kidding, Hutch,” Nox said, “I don’t eat humans… anymore!”

He laughed, and it was a delightful and contagious sound. It was filled with childlike glee and I couldn’t help but laugh too. Suddenly, the old woman’s hand shot up, and she snatched the back of Nox’s head, forcing him to turn to look at her arrangement of cards.

“Wah!” Nox exclaimed, almost losing his balance. He grabbed onto the table edge for support, and yanked his head out of her unnaturally strong grasp.

“I told you to stop doing that!” He said, “just tap me on the shoulder like a normal person!”

Ragna gave a frustrated sigh, rolled her eyes and jabbed at the cards. Nox grasped his neck and began to massage the muscles in it.

“You almost took my head off!” He said. He no longer sounded prim and wise, but very much like a ten year old boy.

Ragna cleared her throat and pointed again to the cards. I could see the intentional placement of four cards on the bottom and three on the top of a rough circle. There was a single card left in the center. All of the cards, save for the central one, were turned face up, and depicted an illustration of some kind. The art was old, and appeared to be similar to the style I’d seen in some of Mother’s classic literature. In the middle were the gemstones: one green, one red, one blue.

“Oh,” Nox said, and looked at Ragna seriously, “that bad?”

The old woman nodded gravely and then they both turned to me.

“We are about to have an uninvited guest,” Nox said, “and we may need that eye of yours.”

I frowned.

“How do you know about my eye?”

Nox smiled, taking my shoulders in his hands and staring intently at me. His eyes were burning with intensity.

“Let’s worry about that later,” he said, “you can feel it, can’t you?”

The pain in my head had grown, and I felt now that it was entirely localized behind my other eye. The one I’d gained that day…

“I can,” I confirmed, and stood, just as the barmaiden arrived with my food. She was carrying a platter with several items on it. A massive bowl of dark brown stew with an entire boar shank on the bone was sticking out of it, wedged between two large slices of potato. Steam was billowing off of it and it made my stomach growl. Our server scowled.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded. “This is your meal.”

“Apologies, dear wench,” Nox said, “but we’ve had something come up. The food will no longer be required.”

The barmaiden’s eyes bulged.

“What the hell did you just call me, you little shrimp?” She exclaimed, and slammed the platter on the table. The big bowl of boar stew toppled over and the thick brown liquid splattered everywhere. She rolled up her sleeves and cracked her knuckles.

“You’re about to apologize for using that word, and then you’re going to eat this damn food.”

Nox looked nervous, suddenly. But Ragna acted. She grabbed Nox by the hair on the back of his head and slammed his face down on the table, mashing it right into the hot liquid.

“MRPPHH!” Nox screamed, but his noises were muffled as his face was being smothered. He flailed, but Ragna’s grip was true, and kept him fastened to the tabletop. With her other hand, she reached to Nox’s hip, and snatched a bulging coin purse from his belt and plopped it down in front of the barmaiden, smiling apologetically.

The peachskin haired woman suddenly relaxed, her eyes looking at the hefty payment, and then back up at us. Ragna released Nox and the boy took a deep gasping breath, his face red and gravy stained.

“Very well,” the barmaiden said, and snatched the bag up, opening it and glancing inside. I could see the reflective golden glow of what I could only assume was a lot of coin. She nodded.

“This will do,” she said, taking off her apron, “but don’t think you can ever call me that again. Next time, I’ll be the one smashing your face into a table.” She turned to look over her shoulder at the lazing bartender.

“Clyde, I’m taking the night off!” She said, and turned on her heel and walked out of the tavern. The bartender woke suddenly, blinked, and looked around the room. Then, seeing the mess on the table he scowled at us.

“Let’s go,” Nox said, rubbing his face, “did you have to do that, Ragna? I had it handled.”

Ragna harumphed disbelievingly.

“Is she… a Cambion as well?” I asked, as we exited.

“Who, Ragna?” Nox asked.

I nodded.

“No,” he said, “she’s just my grandmother.”