Young Writers Society

Today was a wonderous day! A splenderous day! A hard-won reward for all his tiresome, laborious preparation. So many grevious injuries, his spilled blood and spent sweat arranging for this glorious, magnigicant team to enter such an illustrious competition was finally going to pay off. And oh! It was by the hands, the penned invitation clearly stating the family name of his sworn enemies! The fools! They did not even know they had dug their own graves with only ink and a bit of fabulous parchment!

Connery snatched up his cloak at once and with a flourish threw it around his shoulders.

"Where are you going dear?" croaked his grandmother's well worn voice from the kitchen, which sat adjacent to the foyer in which Connery had read the news of this fateful quest.

"I have been invited to the Tournament of Mercenaries to compete for the glory and riches that may deliver us from destitution!" he announced proudly, "I am now on my way to gather my crew of skilled warriors so we may prepare for this enormous task."

"That's nice dear. Would you like to bring some snacks for your friends?"

Connery saw through the arching doorway that his grandmother, a hunched old woman in a worn old frock with her long grey hair woven back in a complex braid, was gesturing at a tray of bisquits.

"That is a wonderous idea! Thank you grandma for your so generous offer," he said as he strode into the kitchen, sweeping a basket off a bench next to the door as he headed for the bisquits. He lined the basket with a cloth and began gingerly arranging the treats inside.

"Of course, dear," grandma was saying, stirring her poriage.

Connery finished packing and picked up the basket, wishing his grandmother a hearty farewell and giving her a hug and a kiss on her forehead before leaving their little leaning cottage on his way to gather his crew.

The room was dark, and the dry desert air took the rope of tension in the room and pulled it taut. There were five seats gathered around the dusty, felt-covered table in the basement level room, each one filled by its own shadowy figure. Big sat on one end as a large, looming shadow. It felt like he filled half the room, and it didn't help that the ceilings were low, and even while sitting, his horns were millimeters away from scraping it.

At the other end of the table, there was a half-elf woman, eyeing the other players with a small, confident smirk. Her name was Darla (not that anyone believed that was her real name), and he'd played with her a few times in the underground gambling scene. Typically, Big would consider a smirk like hers to be a tip-off that something was up, but with her, she was the type to wear the same subtle expression the whole game.

"All in," she said, her smirk pulling into a full smile as she pushed all of her chips forward.

Two of the other players had already folded. Big was still in the game, hoping to bluff the other ones out, but this changed things. He knew he had a bad hand, and he wasn't going to win with his cards alone. But just maybe he could out-bluff her.

Darla leaned back into her seat, folding her arms as she grinned and scanned everyone's reactions. This was an exceptional show of confidence from her. If she was bluffing, she was bluffing hard.

"Fold."

The human man sitting next to him threw his cards to the side with a sigh. That left Big and Darla.

Big played with one of the chips in his hand, thinking as he rolled it over his knuckles, back and forth. He found it easy to keep a straight face while playing poker, but it was reading other people that was the challenge. And he couldn't deny that sometimes he took chances just for the hell of it.

What did he have to lose?

He was a disgraced mercenary. He had no reputation to be proud of or maintain. He couldn't keep a job, even when he was his own boss.

Big pushed all of his chips forward, silent as he met Darla's amused stare.

Eyes glinting with victory, Darla showed her hand, fingers spreading out the cards one by one for everyone at the table to see.

Ace, king, queen, jack, ten...

A royal flush. Big's stomach sank.

"How in the nine hells?" one of the players muttered.

Another player just let out a long, long sigh, shaking his head.

"Listen, boys," Darla laughed, scooping chips off the pile towards her with a stupid smile. "It's like I've been telling you. It's a game of skill, not just luck. You just have to learn how to play the game."

Already, Big caught the pity-filled glances sent his way. The grateful looks too - grateful that they weren't him. Grateful that his loss spared their loss because unlike him, they'd played it smart. They didn't bet the last of their real money on this game like Big, who was hoping to go big or go... well, it wasn't like he had a home to return to anymore. Unless the tavern he was staying in counted. But even now...

Darla looked up to Big expectantly, eyebrows raised. She pointed to him, rubbed her forefingers and thumb together, and then pointed at the table.

He understood.

With heavy movements, he reached into his shirt and pulled out his money pouch. It was a secure, leather sack, a little worn around the seams. The gold pieces jangled even as he set it on the table and slowly and deliberately loosed the drawstring with regret reaching even his fingers, and finally, he bit the bullet. Flipping the sack over, the coins spilled out. Gold, silver, and copper danced out onto the red felt, sliding out towards Darla in a wave. As the last coin slipped out, Big felt the cave in his chest grow deeper and darker.

So he was broke now. He supposed he would manage.

Crumpling the sack shut in his fist, he shoved the empty pouch back into his shirt, hidden away and utterly useless. Darla, ignorant of his complete loss, simply smiled and began to chitter away with the other players. They indulged her, and everyone understood not to address Big because he never spoke unless necessary. Not during the games, and not otherwise.

Getting up from his chair, he ducked his head and shoulders, tilting his head to the side.

Damn the low ceilings. Damn the buildings made for people six feet and under. Damn it all.

His horns scraped along the ceiling anyway, leaving the last of any mark he'd leave in this place. With no more money to gamble away, it didn't make sense to return. The scraping sound was grating to his ears, but he ignored it as he dragged his head to the door and turned sideways to fit through the doorway, down the too-narrow hall, and up the too-tiny steps.

Just two more flights left, he told himself.

The underground casino wasn't particularly grand or extravagant, but it was secret, and only known by few. Hidden under one of the most unassuming inns in Saffron, it kept a low profile and easily explained away the people coming and going with their nightly shows going on the surface floor.

When he reached the main floor, he was immediately hit by a wall of music. Lively and cheerful, he could hear the feet tapping and dancing across the floor before he even passed the main room. The lights on the walls were warm, and the back room of the inn was homey. Everything inside was built to be welcoming and communicate comfort. Music. Soft lights. Laughter. Late-night dancing.

Big drifted through the halls at awkward angles, constantly hunching his shoulders and craning his neck so as to not hit anything with his horns, or even his shoulders. Still, he clipped his horns on the corners of doorways and the corners of walls, leaving little pieces of himself behind in the process.

By the time he made it to the front room, he was surrounded by people.

Towering over everyone, he watched as the tops of people's heads weaved around him. Avoided him. Occasionally, people would glance up and look away. One or two people cast him looks of vague recognition before they quickly looked away, shuffling in the opposite direction. He was far past the point of annoyance at how people reacted to his size, appearance, or identity, once they recognized who he was. He didn't have any pride left. If he was being frank, he lost any pride he did have long before he even took up the mercenary class and tried to "help" people. He couldn't even succeed at something as simple as that, it turned out.

The upbeat music and joyful singing followed him as he finally stepped outside into the open night air, but as the door closed behind him, it was muffled. Slightly.

Outside the inn, the skies were clear and dark. The sun had gone down hours ago, and this establishment was on the side of town that stayed up through 'til the morning. From the view on the inn's porch, he could see the array of stars flecked across the sky, and the bright, full moon.

What was it people said about full moons? Were they lucky or unlucky?

He supposed it didn't matter much, now. He was never lucky. Seemed his lot in life was to be unlucky - so much so that he wondered if someone might've cursed him when he was born. Maybe that was what happened to the mother that his father never talked about.

Of course, that didn't much matter either.

His father passed years ago, and if his mother was anywhere to be found, she wasn't going to help him now. He was grown. He was responsible for himself and the consequences of his own decisions. He made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

Stepping out into the street, out from under the too-low shade of the inn porch's awning, Big finally stood up straight, feeling his neck ache under the strain of poor posture and the weight of his own horns. His ever-constant headache throbbed with new life after the sudden movement, and he merely sighed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe.

He supposed he'd have to figure out money eventually.

Eventually.

He brushed his fingers over the runes on his pipe, watching them respond to his touch with an orange light before the pipe lit itself. It was the only useful enchanted item he kept around from his previous job in Hildirun and the only thing that reminded him of his past.

It was good not to be "home," he thought. The opportunities in Hildirun were equal to his opportunities in Saffron. There were none.

No one wanted to hire him before because of his reputation as a klutz. Now no one wanted to hire him because of his reputation as a failure. Even the most well-meaning people turned him down because, well, what if? And he couldn't blame them.

He brought his pipe to his lips and took in a deep breath, letting the tobacco dull the headache and everything else in turn.

Scanning the buildings as they passed by and the sparsely populated streets, Big decided the next best course of action was to try and find a corner big enough to hide in before the exhaustion of the day took him out somewhere someone might find him.

The last thing he needed was a rumor that Big had lost big time.

Sighing, he blew out a messy stream of smoke.

Gods, he could hear it now.


The sun was too bright. Somehow, sand had crept into his clothes and his hair, coating him like a grainy, crusted layer over his skin. He groaned as he tilted his head and felt pressure on his left horn, weighed down by something on top of it. Looking to the side, he barely caught sight of what looked to be a bird.

No, not just any bird. A vulture.

"Gah!" he growled, gruff and miffed. "Get!"

The weight lifted, and the bird's long wings fluttered above him, quick to flee once he showed his teeth. Just as he lifted his head to sit up, he felt something splatter on his horn. He didn't have to look - not that he even could at such an angle - to know the bird had pooped on him.

Muttering, he got to his feet with a huff, brushing himself off.

As it turned out, a dusty ditch under the remains of half a bridge didn't make for good shelter. There'd been a gust of wind in the night that had piled up sand on his right side, and he didn't even want to think of what might've crawled over him in his sleep. He just hoped none of the critters stuck around in the folds of his clothes to surprise him later.

He took his canteen off his hip and took a hearty swig of water. Setting the canteen back on his belt, he reached into his pocket for his pipe again.

This was breakfast, he supposed.

Lighting the pipe one more with a brush against the runes, he took in a deep breath.

He'd have to show his face back in town and grovel again, he supposed. Wouldn't be any different from what he did in Bedisa.

Dragging his feet back to town, Big tried not to wither under the persistent beating sun. Out of the shade of the bridge, it felt even hotter than before and made the lingering sand granules on his body feel like they'd sucked all the moisture out of him.

He was shambling towards the main road when he heard the dreaded fluttering of wings again, and this time felt another pair of bird-like talons land on his left horn. Annoyed, he jerked his head quickly, causing the bird to flutter, but it merely landed on his horn again.

Surprising no one, this was by no means an unusual occurrence. For whatever reason, his head was an appealing place to perch for many small, winged creatures. What seemed like a prime landing stop to them created a lifelong nuisance for him.

As swiped the bird away again, he paused, catching a glimpse of a harness, and what looked like a note in the bird's claws as it fluttered back into the air.

Whipping around, he offered his hand instead, and the bird - that he now saw was a small hawk - landed on his finger. It wasn't just any bird. It was a delivery bird, and he pulled out the rolled up note that stuck out of the bird's pack on its back.

When he took the note, the bird took its leave, and fluttered away, flying off into the sun. Big squinted off in the direction it disappeared before he turned his attention back to the note. Rolling it out flat, his eyes scanned the page.

It was a letter from Connery.

Well.

Maybe it was a sign. A sign to leave town. It was as good a time as any.

Whether further embarrassment or (unlikely) victory awaited them, he didn't have anything else to do. Looking out at the edges of Saffron, he scanned the road, remembering how long it took him to get to Saffron from Hildirun by wagon. But that had cost him money.

It looked like he'd be walking.

Better to get moving, then.

Amber propped her lute on her right leg and tried to tune out the crowd and the cows. A couple of bovines crossed the dusty street leading away from Ladon's town square, and Amber winced at how their moos clashed-- one sounded a little flat. But she wasn't here to pick a fight with cows; she was here to perform.

Taking a deep breath, Amber tuned her lute. As she plucked each string and made sure the pitch was correct, she couldn't help but regret the waste of her talent. She was Amber, a talented wandering bard, blessed with perfect pitch and a passion for music! And she was performing here, in a sleepy town with as many cows as people. Ugh. If only the mercenary thing had worked out... then maybe she would've gotten some fame and renown and been able to perform in front of more prestigious audiences... She sighed as she finished tuning her instrument. Well, there was no point in dwelling on the past. At least there were some farmers and townspeople who could be blessed with her music.

Amber nudged her donations hat into place on the ground and got comfortable on the bench, then gently ran her hand over her lute's strings. "Alright, Resonance, ready to play?"

She took another deep breath, then strummed a bright chord. With a clear voice, she launched into a song with, "Ohh~ once there was an elf and a halfling..." As Amber continued singing and playing, a couple of farmers, children, and cows wandered over. By the end of the song, there was a ragged crowd in front of her, seemingly spellbound by her music. Amber reminded them sweetly to toss in some donations if they could, then launched right into her next song with an internal smirk. I'm gonna give them a performance they'll remember for the rest of their lives. Ha! Unknown bard who?

The crowd kept growing as Amber played "Where You've Been," "Letters in the Sky," and "Grandma Got Eaten by an Owlbear." She smiled and performed with even more vigor for her audience. Even some of the cows stopped mooing for a moment as she reached the climax of her songs, and she could see a pickpocket out of the corner of her eye, taking advantage of the townspeople who were standing still and listening to her music, oblivious to their surroundings.

Alas, not even Amber had the skill to entrance a gaggle of children for more than a few hours, at least not without magic... After "The Crown on the Head and the Crown on the Heart," Amber could sense the crowd becoming restless. So when she strummed the final chord of "Behind Blue Scales," she took a sip of water, then offered a grin at the audience. "Many thanks for listening to my music! Now, I have something exciting for you all: a chance to request a song! Raise your hand if you have a suggestion."

Amber adjusted her grip on her lute and briefly wondered whether these country people would know any popular songs at all. Worst case, someone would request something overly sentimental and outdated like "To The Death"... She winced at that and quickly called on a young lady who seemed likely to request something more interesting.

"Could you please play 'The Mercenaries of Jerant?'" the girl asked with bright eyes.

"Oh." Amber barely managed to hide a frown. That was even more painful than "To The Death," except instead of beeing outdated, the trouble was that it was too recent for her tastes... "Er. Does anyone have any other suggestions?"

"What wrong? You don't know that song?"

"No, I-I do." Oh, great. I'm stuttering now. Amber took a deep breath and got a grip on herself. "Well, if you insist, milady, I shall now regale you all with 'The Mercenaries of Jerant.'"

The lady stepped back happily and the audience watched in anticipation.

[song~~]

Amber held the last note for a couple of beats then trailed off. The young lady was [either smiling through her tears if sad song, or grinning excitedly if funny song] Amber took a moment to compose herself, then faked a smile and asked, "Any more requests?"

After taking a few more requests (which, thankfully, had no personal relation to Amber whatsoever), Amber finished off her performance with a couple of songs that had the whole crowd dancing. When she finally stood up and took a bow, there was a round of applause, and a round of coins being tossed into the hat, which was even better. "Thank you all! And remember, the name is Amber! The best bard you'll meet in your life, I bet." She winked at the audience as they started to disperse, then hummed to herself as she set her lute down in its case and started counting up the donations.

It was enough for a few meals, but not much more. Oh well, she hadn't expected much from this sleepy town anyways. Maybe she could try Medes next, if that rude bard had cleared out by then. Like, seriously. Loosen up a little, kid! It's not like we bards are dogs marking our territory or anything. So what if I performed near you for a while? I earned my audience, fair and square. You have no one to blame but yourself for losing three quarters of your audience. No need to go chasing me with a barnacle-encrusted anchor, hmph.

Suddenly, Amber was shaken out of her thoughts by an off-key performance of the first lines of "The Green Eyes of Mallistari," the wooing song of a huntsman for a half-elven maiden. Amber swiveled around and said, "Who dares-- ahh!"

She stumbled back in shock at the guy in front of her. He was on one knee, hand on heart and clearly passionate about his song. When he realized he'd gotten Amber's attention, he produced a bouquet of flowers and presented them to her, all while warbling out the next lines of the song.

"Please, stop." Amber winced and tried to cover her ears. She ignored the flowers.

The man continued singing. "Those green eyes of my dreams..."

"Sir, I'm serious. Your singing is an affront to my ears." Amber scowled. "Kindly cease your caterwauling, or I'll be forced to cease it for you."

He blinked, a note trailing off. "O-oh! I'm sorry, was I too sudden? The truth is, I fell in love with you and your singing when you performed just now..." The guy blushed. "You have inspired me to profess my love through song."

"No-- don't--"

The man launched energetically into the next part of the song, accentuating the lyrics with passionate flourishes of his arms. Amber grimaced. Unfortunately, the guy was too caught up in his serenade to notice her less-than-enthusiastic reaction to his off-key singing.

"Really, no--" Ugh. Amber picked up her lute and strummed a chord. "Silence."

The serenade was abruptly cut off, and the man's eyes widened in panic. He clutched at his throat, mouthed words, and tried to stomp his feet, but nothing made a sound. His movements grew increasingly erratic as he tried frantically to regain his voice.

A child walked by and asked curiously, "Mother... what is that person doing?" Her mother glanced at the silenced man, then at Amber, who was glaring at him. She shook her head and eyed Amber.

"Dwarven bards... never a good idea. Come along now." She led the child away.

Amber shifted her glare to the woman's back (no one had complained when she was performing, yet the moment she used magic to defend herself and her ears, people complained?), then fixed the man with a final look. "Don't go serenading people with your awful voice now, you hear?"

The man looked at her in fearful confusion, and Amber sighed. "Right. No sounds travel there." She scribbled her message on a scrap of paper and slapped it into the man's hands. As the guy read the message, his expression changed from panic to dismay. He gestured at his mouth and raised his hands in a "really?" expression.

Amber took the paper and scribbled, "Yes. Your singing is really quite terrible." She handed it back to him.

His face crumpled, and clutching the piece of paper, the man slowly turned and walked off. Amber felt a pang of regret, but shrugged it off. It was his own fault for trying to flaunt his clearly horrible singing. And sound would return to him soon, anyways.

Now that the disturbance was taken care of, Amber resumed packing up her lute and the coins she'd earned. She was in the middle of trying to determine how long it would take to get to Medes when a loud voice called out, "Hey! Dwarf!"

She glanced up and frowned. A human and a gnome were striding towards her, the serenade guy in tow. "Don't you know it's rude to refer to people by their species? Like, hey, human!"

The human frowned. "That's not the issue. Why'd you break our friend's heart?" She gestured towards the man, who was clutching his flowers from earlier with an expression like a kicked puppy.

Amber raised an eyebrow. "I literally don't even know his name. It's his own fault for being so dramatic about serenading me. And he's ridiculously off-key."

"Hey! No need to be so rude." The gnome crossed their arms.

"I'm just being honest. Now, if you'll excuse me--"

"Not so fast." The human patted the serenade guy's shoulder. "We challenge you to a battle to regain our friend Flyn's honor! See, he's absolutely devastated. And it's your fault."

"What?" Amber glanced at Flyn, who was still sobbing into his flowers. He looked completely unaware of his friends' attempt to "regain his honor."

The gnome said, "You heard Gelenda. If we win, you apologize and at least accept Flyn's flowers. If you win, we won't bother you anymore."

Amber groaned and put her head in her hands. Time to bluff her way out of this. "I don't want to make a scene... but if you insist. Fair warning-- I fight even better than I play music. And if you heard my concert just now, you'll know just how well that is. Hint, I'm a pro."

Gelenda and the gnome exchanged a glance, then shrugged. "We're Flyn, Isa, and Gelenda! The famous fighting trio!"

If bluffing didn't have the right effect, perhaps some well-placed insults would shake their confidence. "F... I... G... Your trio's acronym is a fruit?" Amber arched an eyebrow. "And where exactly are you all famous? I've heard absolutely nothing about you."

Isa blushed. "Figs are delicious... and we're very well known in Ladon."

"Ugh. Who have you all fought against? Cows?" Amber scoffed. "I'd feel positively guilty about fighting you guys; you have no chance against a bard of my skill. And look at Flyn. I bet he doesn't even care about his 'honor' or whatever."

Gelenda shook Flyn's shoulder, and he looked up from the flowers. She pantomimed fighting Amber, and Flyn's eyes widened. He quickly shook his head, although he avoided Amber's gaze. Gelenda frowned, but Flyn made an X with his arms and shook his head again.

"See?" Amber crossed her arms. "Flyn has some sense at least. Fighting me would just cause you a heap of trouble and embarrassment. Now then, if you all have no further problems, I'll be on my way." She strode confidently to her lute's case.

Isa backed away hesitantly and glanced at Gelenda for support. Gelenda shrugged. "I-I guess you can go..."

Isa looked around uncertainly for a moment, then patted Flyn on the back. "Alright, old chap, how about we go get some pie? That oughta cheer you up." The trio walked away across the square.

Amber breathed a deep sigh, then closed Resonance's case. I'm glad I could talk my way out of that one... Words can be far superior to swords sometimes. She lifted her lute case. At least she'd gotten some song ideas out of that encounter. Amber started humming a possible tune as she walked through Ladon.

Ah, life as a wandering bard was good. Amber smiled as she walked through the marketplace of Ladon, soaking in the chatter of people around her. A particularly rowdy group-- likely adventurers or mercenaries-- stumbled out of a tavern, laughing uproariously. It reminded Amber of her own mercenary days. Those had been chaotic and, frankly, frequently disastrous... but despite all their mishaps, maybe, sometimes, hanging out with the group had been a tad bit enjoyable. Nostalgia struck Amber like a punch to the gut, and she stubbornly tried to shake it out of her head. N-no, she wasn't lonely! Life on her own suited her just fine. Hah...

She picked up her pace, trying not to dwell on any regrets. Amber was a wandering bard now, like she'd always wanted to be, and that meant she was finally free, and-- wait, was that a messenger trying to attack her with a piece of paper?

Amber eyed a guy who was running towards her with a determined expression, letter in hand.

"Huff... are you... Amber Flintshaper?" The messenger reached Amber and thrust the letter at her.

"That's me," Amber said suspiciously. She glanced at the letter. Wait, that handwriting was familiar...

"Oh, thank goodness!" The messenger handed her the letter. "I've been running all over the place trying to find you. That darned pompous elf just told me you were a wandering dwarven bard! I need a specific location, you know, or at least more gold." He wandered off, muttering, "Well, at least there aren't many dwarven bards around."

"Darned pompous elf?" That sounded awfully like someone Amber knew... She frowned at the letter, quickly walked to the side of the street, and ripped it open. She scanned the contents.

Well then. Despite herself, a small smile played on Amber's lips. I suppose Hildirun is as good a destination as any. She adjusted the straps of her lute case and started humming again. Perhaps I can hitch a ride on a riverboat... And whatever happens with the crew this time around, I'll no doubt at least have some material for a song...

Sally let out her fifth yawn for the day. This was turning out to be a boring one, well even more boring that usual. It wasn't like her days were exciting on a regular basis. Trying not to think too far down the road of exactly why her days turned out so boring, she soldiered on with her current task, attempting to make coffee, preferably to stop the yawning. It was the only solution to get her up and running for the day when she got up as early as she did. Cold showers were completely out of the question because well...that was another she didn't like to think about too much.

Sally stirred her coffee a little more, giving it an cautious sniff as she debated on the merits of sugar vs no sugar. After a few seconds, she decided to go ahead with the sugar. That would at least give here some extra energy to use on this extra boring day. Going through with it Sally gave her coffee another quick stir as she them dumped everything she'd just used in the sink nearby. Giving her coffee an experimental sip, she managed not to gag. That was a massive improvement from her last attempt. Maybe she was on her way to being less of a failure at least in one department.

Grabbing her mug, she walked off towards her room. As much a she always wanted to wash up after herself, the reason that must be named loomed large in the background. As she passed the living room she spotted her aunt having woken up already. She gave the best wave she could muster without spilling her coffee and murmured a "Good Morning"

"Morning Sally, expecting a lazy day?" said her aunt, eyebrows raised.

"Yes..." said Sally, producing a confused expression.

"Coffee," supplied her aunt, answering her unanswered question.

Sally managed a smile at that. Her aunt knew her too well sometimes. She continued on her trek to her room, plopping herself down on her bed as soon as she was inside. Today was definitely going to end up being boring if even her aunt could tell so easily. She really needed to find some sort of pastime to do. Holding out on having things to do with her little group of mercenaries was becoming less and less of a thing given they seemed to fail every single thing they tried. Maybe she should practice doing something for a bit if she was going to actually look for something new.

With that thought in mind, Sally downed the rest of her coffee a shade to quickly, almost burning her throat. After scolding herself for several seconds for not even drinking coffee right, and she'd been doing so well actually making it, Sally managed to peel herself off of the bed and out of her room.

She made it to the living room.

"I'll go out for a bit, maybe get the mail," she said as she walked past her aunt.

"Alright be careful, I'll have breakfast on in a minute when your uncle decides its morning," said her aunt.

Sally chuckled. Her uncle always slept in on days like this. Watching the two of them argue about it was always hilarious.

With a final smile at her aunt, Sally stepped out of the house, taking a deep breath. There wasn't even a hint of rain to come. That was good, or her little plan was going to be down the drain before it could even begin. As much as she didn't like the sun beating down on her, it was at least better than the alternative. She skipped off down their little path, passing the mail box, she'll be back for that soon, and went off in the direction of the large puddle in the road she practiced her magic at. She'd have picked a pond, or maybe the sea that was really not far away, but the puddle was the safest one given the current amount of control she had over her magic.

It didn't take her long to find Mr. Lake Junior. Had she named it that? Yes. Had she been very young when she did that? Probably not young enough to use as an excuse but she stood by that name it was accurate after all. For a puddle it was definitely on the larger side. If she fell into it, it would be about half her height in diameter.

Trying not to think too much on the falling in part which would also ruin her plans, and had ruined her plans more than once in the past, she made her way to side of the road to avoid being accidentally bowled over by someone and began to concentrate.

Through a lot of trail and error she'd realized that closing her eyes for this and kneeling down were bad ideas. Both resulted in falling into the puddle. So now she just stood and stared at it like it had done her a personal offense, trying to get a feel for the water. When she'd asked them about it her sisters had gone on and on about this tingly feeling they get and how the water became one with them and blah blah. It was proving to be useless advice, mostly because their thing relied on imagining the water against one's skin and that was absolutely the last thing Sally wanted to do, thank you very much.

So she settled for basically trying to force the water to do what she wanted. The result was like trying to turn a kettle off by using the neighbors dog as a button. The water sometime almost by accident spluttered and hissed and jumped around a bit but it absolutely refused to do what she wanted it to.

Today she wasn't having too much extra luck. Her first attempt did absolutely nothing. The water just displayed her rapidly reddening face back at her almost like it was taunting her about her lack of ability to do anything.

Her second try did manage to agitate, although if that was her or the breeze, there was no telling for certain. She gritted her teeth and tried again, this time a few drops of water seemed to rise in a pattern that was a little too ordered to dismiss as just the wind.

By the end of it, she had a big smile on her face. She actually managed to make a head size bubble of water move in a pattern. It had been very wobbly and had completely missed its mark, but that was progress. Deciding she should quit while she was ahead on the water, she got up to leave. Just before she did, she snapped her fingers, just to make sure the one trick she was actually okay with could still work.

Mr. Lake Junior froze up in seconds. She smiled. She was getting good enough at that to maybe think about moving little chunks of ice soon. Maybe tomorrow would be a good time for that. Head full of good idea for the day, Sally skipped back down the road, quickly grabbing the mail blindly as she made her way back into the house.

Judging by the sounds that greeted her as she made her way in, her aunt had in fact headed off to make breakfast. She sifted through the letters, checking if any were for her. It was becoming a bit of a dream these days to actually receive one but she wasn't ready to stop trying today. Just as she was about to give up and throw the lot on the living room table for her aunt to go through later, the very last one seemed to be addressed to her. Trying not to jump in joy at what might as well be a polite rejection or a not so polite rejection Sally retreated to her room with the letter.

Opening it with trembling hands, Sally slowly read through the letter.

Sally barely restrained the urge to fling the letter off into space and then break into a lively dance number. They had an actual thing to do, and at one of the biggest competitions around too. How Connery had pulled this one off she was not going to question, but this was almost definitely the opportunity of a lifetime to try and win. This was big enough that even if they didn't win it could up the chances of Sally being discovered for some kind of work significantly. Given they were currently basically zero that wasn't a hard thing to do, but still, reality could wait, Sally was far too excited at the moment.

Sally took a few moments to then read through the whole thing again, just in case this was like that one other time where she'd misread a word and not realized the letter was actually not inviting her to join. That had been a particularly embarrassing moment although thankfully her aunt had spotted her mistake before it had been too later. This time though as she read and reread t about six more times, she was 99% sure this one was real and she was in fact being invited along with her team to this thing. She was absolutely going to show her aunt before she went around telling anyone else or getting ready to leave though. There could not be a repeat of that incident in any sort of living memory.

With that in mind, Sally made her way following the sound of banging pots and pans all the way to the kitchen. When she offered up the letter with no explanation whatsoever, her aunt, thankfully without bringing up the incident quietly looked through it before Sally could work up the courage to actually ask. The beaming smile that broke out on her aunt's face was evidence enough that her reading was definitely correct this time.

"This is lovely Sally, isn't this the thing you went on about that day on how it could really help you all gain some footing in your umm...business," said aunt.

"Yeah," said Sally, "this is going to be the opportunity of a lifetime, I am almost a hundred percent sure someone probably tried this as a prank and accidentally made it official or they want us to prove we're the worst to the entire kingdom but that small problem aside, I think if we do something we can really go to a place...if not to a good place."

Her aunt was kind enough not to add onto that and agree about how most of their clients from previous ventures had said that they'd never seen such a spectacularly bad group before. She settled for a agreeing hmm before continuing. "So I assume you want to leave as soon as possible, this evening or maybe tomorrow morning?"

"Probably the evening, there is a long way to go and even though we do have a week, getting there as early as possible is probably a good idea because we've never done any of this, and a little bit of team practice and planning is going to be necessary," said Sally. Her aunt was also kind enough not to point out the times Sally complained about how their team had never made a plan that had actually worked.

"Do you have any idea when you'll be back?"

"I do not, no, it depends on if we win or not. It doesn't really have much in the way of how long this will take or what we'll have to do, this isn't the letter for the tournament itself, so really its kind of mystery beyond just be there at that time," said Sally.

"Okay then, do be careful, the last time you travelled that far..." began her aunt before she seemed to think better of it, "just don't stay longer than you must." Sally nodded and gave her aunt a quick hug before she ran off to find her uncle. The hug was mostly for not mentioning the time Sally had been two weeks later to come home because she'd waiting on the possibility for an opportunity that had also turned out to be a misunderstanding on her part.

Her uncle like she had predicted, was however still asleep. She also didn't particularly feel like announcing anything to the village just now. Everyone seemed to think she was useless in form or the other and the last few times she'd gone around talking about new opportunities had resulted in multiple walks of shame that she would rather avoid if she could. Maybe she'd tell a couple of her friends on the way out, but since her uncle was asleep and she didn't feel like going around the village until she came back with actual success she decided she might as well get a bit of packing done. It was going to be quite the journey and probably a fairly long stay after all.

Packing ended up taking a lot less time than she was hoping it would. It mostly had to do with how little she actually had to take given that most of her event ready things were always packed and ready to go somewhere, except when she took them out randomly to prevent them from just deteriorating in the bag. They were not taken out of the bag nearly enough for the not deteriorating part to happen without her regular intervention. All she really had to dump into her bag was a couple of her favorite pieces that she had to have with her all the time and a few random books she'd picked up recently about controlling water and combat with the trident. She hadn't even touched most of them because she hadn't even mastered the first half of the first book she'd tried, but at least the books were heavy and she could smack someone on the head with them in a pinch, she'd probably have to resort to that given how bad she was with the trident.

Only half an hour after she'd started she found herself hauling her pack to the front door and setting it nearby. There was plenty of time till the evening when she planned to leave but it wouldn't hurt to put it down now. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she'd only though of the evening because she'd assumed packing would take longer, so maybe leaving after breakfast instead of after lunch would be a better idea. It would speed up her journey by however tiny amount it did at any rate. It would give her more choice over where she had to stop for the night too. The more she thought about it the more it made sense so she headed back towards the kitchen, having resolved herself to leaving right after breakfast or maybe slightly later depending on when her uncle was going to wake up. She wouldn't dare wake him up but she also didn't like the idea of leaving without telling one of the four people that believed in her.

The rest of the morning passed by rather quickly as a result, almost without Sally noticing. Breakfast was quiet with just her aunt at the table. Her aunt had apparently been unsuccessful in her first attempt to wake her uncle and unlike most days she was apparently letting him sleep because he had worked late into the night the day before. With that compromise rendering her aunt silent and Sally lost in thought about the path that she was likely going to have to take and all its potential dangers barely a word was spoken to break the semi comfortable silence of the breakfast table.

After that had then been finally put away, her aunt pulled her to the kitchen to help her pack a few bits of food for the journey. Sally had naturally forgotten all about that assuming that she'd be able to reach inhabited places frequently enough for it not to matter. She'd learnt the hard way not to refuse her aunt's advice though, she set about adding all the extra items into a separate more durable pack she'd carry along her main one. The time being spent was probably good anyway as it took a whole two more hours for her uncle to finally wake up.

By then it was almost lunchtime and despite Sally not quite wanting to leave just yet, her aunt cited Sally's own argument about finding a place to stay for the night and suggested she get going as early as possible.

Her goodbyes ended up being a little on the sudden side as a result. Her uncle only awake enough for a sleepy sounding good luck and a hug. Another hug from her aunt and Sally was on her way out, carrying her two packs and another leather sleeve which held her trident. It was wrapped in one too many layers to end up being too terribly useful in an emergency but it would at least prevent it from being exposed to the elements too much. Not that the gift from her cousin would actually deteriorate with the elements, but she wasn't going to take too many chances.

One her way out she left a message for said cousin, one of the three people from her family she still liked to talk to everyone once in a while. She was part of that believe in her club, hence the trident being a gift in the first place. As she left the area of the village she realized she hadn't told even the two people she was planning to tak to in the village. Deciding that she may as well tell them along with everyone else should she have some sort of success she kept on walking. She did have a long way to go after all.