Season I | Episode I | Chapter I

365 days until Affliction Day

Happiness is a commodity. It’s even more true in uncertain times. It’s easy to wallow in hopelessness when each new year is a countdown culminating in the ground swallowing you up or the ocean sucking you in. Thus Tarrick likes to give away tiny pieces of happiness. In the form of books.

Thankfully, he thinks his books are still all right.

Golden lights flicker on. The backstore is amazingly empty. Everything is as he left it. The comfortable chairs, the bookcases, even the lamp on the desk. Nothing moves. Nothing has moved, that’s the important part. Tarrick felt a deep rumble during the night, but nothing more. A good thing. Relief washes over him. Tarrick runs his paws over the thick volumes and smiles.

Everything will be fine.

“Mr. Booooookkeeeeeeepeeeeeer! Mr. Bookkeeper, Mr. Bookkeeper, Mr. Booooookkeeeeeeepeeeeeer!”

Tarrick’s ears perk up. He leaves his backstore and climbs to the middle deck. Tarrick pushes on the lever. The steel plate armour unfurls itself around his boathouse and the side of the Lennox opens up. Gentle, warm sunlight pours in. Then he sees them. The cubs of High Tobain galop down the cobblestone path and onto the river dock. Feet and hooves pound on the ground. For some, their little band may not seem much. A handful of preteens, a pocket change’s worth of school-aged cubs, a toddler or two… For Tarrick, they’re more than enough. Besides, they’re enough to make a commotion. Especially in these tranquil parts, where only the wind blows and some birds chitchat in the trees. The late morning sun lazily warms up the breeze blowing in Tarrick’s light blue fur. The cubs pile around the little boathouse, jumping up and down on the rickety old planks. Water gurgles. Wood cracks and groans.

“Mr. Bookkeeper!” they chant. “Mr. Bookkeeper, Mr. Bookkeeper, Mr. Bookkeeper!”

“All right, all right!” Tarrick laughs from behind his counter, sticking out from the side of the Lennox, his trusty old companion. In other words, his boathouse. Eyes closed from smiling so much, Tarrick lifts both paws up. “Calm down, cubs! At this rate, you’ll wake the dead! What is it?”

One of the oldest girls, Ralofina, who also happens to be his cousin, pushes forward and offers him…

“Happy graduation day!”

A bouquet of wildflowers. Tarrick gasps, a paw sitting above his heart.

“Aw, you’re too kind!” He catches the flowers Ralofina tosses him. Then he bows. And hits his head against the counter. Smooth, Tarrick. “Thank you, thank you very much!“

Giggles abound.

“Now, now, you lot haven’t come to me this early in the morning to offer me flowers! Why else would you come here on Solace Day, hm? Oh! I remember! To get some freebies, perhaps?”

A toddler, Jax, claps his chubby little paws. Tarrick smiles further.

“Hm, hm, hm, let me see what I have here…”

Tarrick rummages around, grabbing at his inventory sitting on shelves inside the counter. Glass potion bottles, the bronze cash register, weighing scales, another book or two… Ah! There! There’s a big red bag full of books waiting for them, tucked away in the bottom-most shelf. Tarrick picks it up and pulls on the lever. The side of the Lennox closes up, one wood panel sliding back into place. Darkness follows. He climbs up to the top deck and walks the plank. Tarrick settles the red bag down on the dock, making a show of how big the thing is. “Oof! Not good for my back.” He stretches, paws on his lower back. Something cracks. “Now, now, now, what is this I have here…”

His whole arm fits in the bag. Not only his arm. His head and his torso do, too. Tarrick’s fur is ruffled when he shows them one of his latest treasures. A beautiful night blue and gold tome. He moves it around, inspecting every side. Tarrick flips through the pages. Page… by… page. Tongue sticking out of his mouth. Someone taps their foot. He grins. Tarrick offers the first book to Sagna, the baker’s daughter. Her eyes are wide and full of wonder. But he takes the book back.

“Ha, ha, ha! You know what the currency is today, huh?”

She offers him a big, wide smile.

“Wonderful! You got it. A book for a smile. Here you go, little one.”

The cubs pass the books around. Murmurs bubble up in the crowd. Oohs and aahs are shared as they look at the cherished titles. Some already plop down on the dock to read. Pride swells inside Tarrick. He’s created a cult following of readers. How amazing. He wishes these cubs find escapism like he did when he was their age. Finally, the last book is given to Ralofina. They nod at each other.

“Now, now, come along!” Tarrick shoos them away. “There’s so much to do today.”

“Awww! But, Mr. Bookkeeper…!”

“No buts! You know what your parents would do to me if you were late to re-build.”

As if summoned, a voice calls:

“Cuuuubs? Cuuuubs! Come here, you’ll be late for the festival!”

Gasps erupt all around.

“Coming, Mommy!”

The toddlers grumble, but the preteens take them by the hand and guide them up the path and up the hill. Ralofina is the last one to leave. She offers him another big smile.

“Can I have another one? Pleeeeeaaaaase?”

Tarrick barks a laugh. He drops the big red bag and starts to chase after Ralofina. She runs away, squealing. He kicks the empty air where her butt had been a few seconds ago. She goes so fast up the hill, she’s almost running on four legs. He puts two paws like a cone around his snout and shouts:

“You devilish cousin, you! Get on with it! No more free books until next year!”

“You’ll never catch me!”

And with that, Ralofina disappears behind the hill.

With an eternal spring in his step, Tarrick finishes packing up his boathouse. He gropes around for any broken pipe. Looks out for cracked planks or holes in the hull. Nothing. He checks again. And again. Not even a book has moved out of place underneath the main deck. Good. Very good. He doesn’t want to think “almost too good to be true.” He prefers thinking “extraordinarily good.” Tarrick climbs out of the backstore, where he, well, stores his books. He walks by the helm and steps out at the prow. Tarrick grips the railings tight and breathes in the morning air. The shimmering river serpents around the mountains. He smiles. Last night was Affliction Day. It could’ve been worse. This year has been good to them.

When Tarrick steps back in the captain’s cabin, he hears a yawn coming from a box in the corner. Something stretches. The same something flutters down and lands gracefully on the floor next to him.

“Everything all right, captain?”

He looks down at Prothea. Some would call her his pet, in name only since she’s a cat-owl with the rare ability to talk, but he prefers the term ‘familiar’.

Don’t tell her that, though. She bosses him around more than enough to be considered a friend.

“Everything’s great. Why do you ask?”

She gazes at her paw, as if looking for a non-existent wristwatch.

“Well, only because your grandmother would kill you – and would probably skin me alive – if you, oh I don’t know, happened to be late for your own graduation. So, pray tell, what are you still doing here?”

“Nah, don’t worry. It’s nothing. And Grandma won’t kill me, she’s too sweet!”

“Huh, huh…”

Prothea cranes her neck to look over his shoulder. Tarrick cocks his head to the side.

“What?”

There’s a knock against the wooden doorway. “Too sweet. Are you sure?”

Tarrick spins around. And freezes.

“Heeeeeeey! Look who it iiiiiis! Graaaandmaaaa…!”

Grandma looks at him over her round glasses, chin down and eyes unmerciful. She looks… stern. More stern than she ought to look in her flower-covered shawl, pink dress and purple slippers. Her cane still knocks against wood. They stare at each other. Tarrick doesn’t move, eyes wide and shoulders creeping up towards his chin. Then, almost imperceptibly, Grandma’s brow twitches. Her façade cracks. She bursts out laughing, head thrown back and ears flapping with each burst. She points at him with one finger.

“You should see…! Oh, fluffy pie, you should see your face! You look like you’ve been caught with your paw in the cookie jar! Calm down, I won’t hurt you!”

All tension releases from Tarrick’s body. He was only playing, of course. Like she was. This was their thing, though some found it strange. Teasing was fun. Grandma looks around.

“What’s going on with good old Lennox? Hm? Everything in order, captain?”

“Everything in order, indeed.”

“Good!” She clasps her paws together. “So you won’t have a problem taking some minutes off your oh so important free time and get dressed up for today, then?”

Tarrick gapes at her. He scrunches his nose, most probably looking immensely affronted. That’s the energy he wants to send out into the world, anyway. Tarrick pats his torso. Then, he pats his bicorn hat sitting between his ears. It’s clean. There’s barely a hole in his socks and he washed his shirt two days ago!

“Dressed up? What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“What’s wrong with your…? Ha! You’re a funny little cub.”

“I’m not a cub anymore.”

“Right, right…”

Grandma curls an arm around his shoulder and, with her paw gripping his shoulder and the other holding steadfast to her cane, she leads Tarrick out of the Lennox and onto the dock. She sends a look behind him and his ears twitch when he hears Prothea’s wings flap as she follows. Prothea lands on Grandma’s shoulder.

“Come on. We’ll get you all dolled up. And after the ceremony, there’s something I need to show you.”