Franceth let out a low pitched yawn, setting his backpack by the side of a large pine tree. He pushed it aside, laying down in the grass, lips parched from the long period of walking. The stars were especially bright tonight, the night sky completely visible, unaltered by the bright lights of the city, not obscured by the unsightly stone buildings in the capital. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, in awe from such a spectacular view. Staring up at the sky, he noticed a particularly bright star, no others visible near it. Roger is a good name for you, shine on Roger. He reached out to it, waving like one would to an old friend.

“You know I can read your mind right, stop thinking of stupid shit and start walking.”

He sighed, undoing a strap on his pack and taking out a crystal canteen. He held it up to the sky, the stars reflecting off the water. There were only a few drops left inside, the majority being drunk during his fieldwork. It’ll have to do for now. He lifted it to his face, pulling the cork out with his teeth. The last few drops slid down his throat, giving him a few brief moments of comfort before it was all gone. He gave it a quick shake, a single drop falling onto his tongue before he packed it away, ready to continue the journey.

The trip out had been more difficult than he had imagined. The lack of paved roads, paired with the dark conditions had made it near impossible to navigate, several times having to take routes through the forest due to the lack of any other paths. “Why’d we come out here anyway. Surely we didn’t come all this way just to deliver berries.”

“Of course not, what we’re looking for is information” Marlow tried to emphasise the point, creating a rough sketch of a healing institute in his mind.

During the trip, with nothing else to do, the pair had decided to experiment with their telepathic abilities, finding that not only could Marlow convey his thoughts in different voices, he could also communicate feelings and images.

Following the discovery, Marlow had made sure to communicate with images as much as possible, following up every thought with a poorly drawn sketch, finding it hilarious when Franceth was unable to decipher the cryptic drawings.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier, I’m quite knowledgeable on disease and defects I’ll have you know.” He exclaimed, a smug grin on his face. In truth, he had really only read his sister’s healing guidebook, a book published 50 years ago and riddled with mistakes and inconsistencies. After being described a few symptoms, he decided to close his mouth, completely reevaluating his medical knowledge. They continued walking, boots coming down softly on the grass.

“So… you know any magic?” Marlow asked, trying to clear up the awkward silence between the two, both wanting to just fall asleep.

“Why does everyone keep assuming I know magic,” he grumbled, kicking aside a twig.

“Well cos you’re rich,” Marlow said, acting like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“My father thought I was some god’s ‘chosen one’ and that my powers would come to me when I was ready, so I had no opportunity to learn any magic or fighting skills.”

Marlow considered it for a moment, flicking his antenna from side to side. “We could buy an awakening guide book if you want.”

“I’d appreciate it, but who’s going to conduct the ritual.” He stopped, having reached a fork in the road, 2 paved paths of greenstone neatly splitting through a grass bed.

“Which one are we taking”

“One on the right, unless you want to head to Magien.”

Franceth resumed walking, a small spring in his step. He hadn’t been to the marketplace since he was a child, however, the few memories held were quite fond. If he had tried to describe it, the closest comparison would be home-cooked meals. Not the most refined, or exquisite place, however, it had a warm familiar aura that drew you in. He walked along the path, the powerful yellow light of the street lanterns illuminating the area.

As he drew closer, the colourful wooden carts and stalls came into view, each one painted in vibrant eye-catching colours. Drawing even closer, the directionless chatter grew in volume, forcing him to cover his ears.

“I forgot how loud this place is,” He thought, making his way through the crowd, roughly shoving past the interlocked queues. The delicious scent of street food filled the air, causing him to salivate at the smell.

“We can get food later, let’s deliver the berries first. We’re going to that store behind the street performer.” Standing on his toes he looked around, glancing over the heads of the common people. After receiving several annoyed glares, he moved aside, leaning against a pillar, by the fountain in the center of the market. Marlow was perched on his head, getting a near-perfect view of the entire market

“Left until you reach the man selling clothes, then right until you reach the woman performing magic”

He mouthed a thank you, getting back onto the walkway. His feet weaved through the crowd, avoiding the minefield of boots moving around him. A drunk man toppled toward him prompting him to step back, a stroke of air blowing against him. He soldiered on, angry yells sounding behind him as they pushed the drunkard aside.

A few stalls later he looked up, there it was, ‘CLOTHES’ painted in large letters above him. He turned right, the crowd had thinned out, giving him more room to walk. At the end of the road, a large circle of people had gathered, oohing and aahing at the theatrics of a street mage, manipulating fire into shapes of animals and people in a miniature puppet routine. Walking past, his gaze lingered, hypnotized by the roaring flames in the shape of a majestic Lyorta, it’s two massive legs, paired with its outstretched jaw an almost perfect replica of the real thing.

A bit disappointed that he wouldn’t see the end of the performance, he walked past the woman, reaching the store he was looking for. The stall was empty, the lightstones weakly glowing in the lantern hanging from the sign up top.

“I think we were a bit too la-,” A large palm slapped him on the back knocking the wind out of him.

“Just on time Marlow!” A pudgy woman stepped into the stall, a cheerful grin on her face. She reached down, grabbing a pile of coins and stuffing it in a bag, a couple falling to the ground with a soft chink. “You’re lucky I forgot to clear the money box”

Having recovered from the surprise of the sudden strike, Franceth looked up at his assailant. It was a short stout woman, with dark skin and red hair, a piece of cloth tied around her forehead. He cleared his throat, recomposing himself “Evening ma'am, got some rubiberries for you.” He reached into his pack, pulling out the sack of berries, now completely dried out.

“Don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel old as fuck.” she laughed, grabbing the bag from over the counter, turning around, and bringing it into the storage room in the back. Returning, she reached into the bag rummaging around for a second before pulling out a gold coin and 2 silvers. “There’s your money, now piss off, I wanna get home.”

He changed his tone, not used to being talked to so informally. “Uhhhh...See Ya Later?”

“Why’d you say that as a question?” she asked, staring at him as if he were a psycho.

He interlocked his hands, thumbs rubbing against each other, fingers drenched in sweat. “Tired I guess, a-a-anyways I should probably head home.” he gestured wildly behind him, turning his feet to walk away, desperate to get out of the conversation.

Seeing her already packing up for the day, he breathed a sigh of relief getting out of sight as fast as possible.

“By the time I get back into my body, you're gonna have completely destroyed my entire reputation.” Marlow had been watching from Franceth’s pocket as he completely butchered the conversation, making a mental note to teach him how to handle social situations.

“Please don’t remind me how bad that was. Can we just get some food.”

He bit into the leg of turkey, tearing hard to get the meat off. Compared to his extravagant meals at the palace, the difference in quality was obvious. The meat was overcooked, rubbery and charred, the flavour bland and uninteresting. However, he was much too hungry to care, picking at the meat like a starved beast.

“Don’t think buying that book was worth it.” he grumbled, holding the tiny manuscript, the words clearly written on with a pen. In the end, they had paid 2 silver for the book. A clear overcharge, a regular book only worth about 5 bronze, a hand copied worth even less.

The crowd had died down to a quarter of its original size, the only ones sticking around, the drunkards and the lowlifes. The lanterns of all the stalls had been snuffed, the store owners all packing up for the night.

Franceth let out a large yawn, carrying his backpack on one shoulder. They had reached the fork in the road once again, the stars now gone, the night pitch black. “I can’t see anything, I’m gonna have to rely on you for directions.”

Marlow himself was also starting to get quite drowsy, his new insect metabolism clearly not factoring out a rest period. “Sure man, I just wanna get home as quick as possible.”

Walking through the forest, they relied on Marlow, his eyesight much better in the dark. Franceth held his arms out, feeling around to make sure he didn’t run into anything, hands occasionally coming into contact with tree bark.

Crunch Crunch Crunch

Franceth spun around the sound of leaves being crushed close behind him. He got into a defensive pose, holding his fists up in front of his face. A skinny man ran out from behind a tree, torch swinging loosely in his hand. “Please help me, oh god.” he was breathing fast and hard, coming straight at Franceth.

“I don’t trust this guy. looks shady,” Marlow had crawled back into Franceth’s pocket, watching around, looking for an ambush.

“Please calm down, what happened?” Franceth lowered his guard, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“My wife, oh god, they took her. They took her.” he was crying now, face deep into Franceth’s shoulder, the tears soaking into his shirt.

“He looks pretty genuine to me, I’ve got to at least try and help him.” He lightly tapped the man on the back, not knowing how to comfort him. “Who took her?”

"Oh my god, just run, you have no business helping this guy."

The man was wailing into the ground, crouched down into the leaves. Unable to speak, he gestured wildly to his right. A female scream came from the direction, only moments later, causing the man to cry even harder, lying on the ground curled up in a ball. Franceth took his carpenting knife from his pocket, holding it in front of him. “Dude, time to run, there’s nothing you can do.”

This triggered something in his mind, a flash of the day prior coming into view. The bodies sinking into the mud, the man dragged away by the beast men. The words echoed through his mind. “Nothing you can do, nothing you can do, nothing you can do.” He tried to lift his arm, but it didn’t budge. He was frozen stiff in fear, the events and words continuing to replay in his mind.

“Snap out of it man, it was a trap.” The words and thoughts disappeared, becoming fuzzy and fading into the background. Marlow was right, there was nothing he could do. He spun around, weakly swinging at the man, who was coming at him with a club. The man held his hand over his face, the knife slashing through his palm. Franceth’s stance was weak and amateurish, leaving plenty of gaps.

Still recovering from the first swing, the man lifted his club up bringing it down hard on his head. He plummeted to the ground, crashing into the leaves. “Nothing I can do” the words replayed in his mind, slowly fading into black.