To Paxaria: part 2.1

After the Tribute members were approved upon their safety check, they were escorted a little way in orderly groupings to an open expanse of shore situated in the substantial space between two docking points. Not one pair of curious eyes missed the large crowd awaiting them there.

The Tribute members fell into neat lines with little complication. Then a man, who appeared to be the head of the officials who were present, stepped forward to address them.

Everyone fell silent. Only the gentle ripple of the waves nearby and the rush of the salty wind offered their sounds.

“On behalf of King Alroy and the Kingdom of Paxaria, we welcome you to our fine land.”

The man’s voice resonated with pride as he spoke the words. The other officials bowed as one, and the crowd of people now opposite the Tribute members raised a welcoming cheer.

“Here to receive you,” the man said, gesturing toward the welcoming committee, “are the men and women appointed by the kingdom to oversee the time each of you will spend here serving as tributes to Paxaria.”

Ruelle tried to take a good look at the assortment of people before her. It was a diverse group, some Humans, some broad-shouldered, stocky Dwarves with long beards, some round-faced Gnomes with colorful caps, and a handful of others kinds of people.

Ruelle wondered which of them was here for her, but the man in charge was speaking again, so she turned her attention back to him.

“You may notice that the crowd here to receive you is smaller in number than your own group,” he pointed out. “This is because many of you will leave here in groups under the supervision of one person. Another number of you, however, have been assigned one-to-one, and will depart with your respective individuals.”

Ruelle had never heard of proceedings taking place this way before. She had always assumed that the majority of Tribute members were simply handed off to some military overseer upon their arrival to the mainland. But then again, anything Rue had ever heard was usually not a firsthand account, and she had to remind herself that the accuracy of the tales she’d grown up hearing had very possibly been muddied by their frequent passing from person to person.

“With that understanding established,” the man went on, “Each person who has come to receive you will now come forth one by one and call the name or names of those with whom they will be departing. When they have done calling their assigned names, you will meet with them and go to collect any belongings you brought here with you.”

A collective nod and murmur of understanding passed through the group of Tributes, along with a tingle of unspoken excitement that coursed through every one of them.

And then with another word from the head guard, the first person stepped forward and unrolled a small scroll of paper.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath. Not during any other moment up until this had every ear listened so closely.

The scroll contained multiple names. Ruelle kept her ears tuned lest she miss hearing her own called out, but it was not.

“Maybe we’ll be on the next one,” Gaius leaned over and whispered to her.

The second person stepped up. He was a curious-looking person, Ruelle thought. He was taller than a Gnome and sported no colorful hat atop his curly, wind-blown hair, but he was shorter than a Dwarf and did not have any beard.

“Halfling,” someone behind her commented quietly. “I’ve heard they live among the seaside cliffs, mostly. Talk to merfolk and all that, too.”

Rue wanted to ask how they knew this, but she promptly decided what she wanted more at the moment was for everyone to quiet down so she would not miss anything important.

Only a handful of names was called this time, but still Ruelle’s was not among them.

And so the process went on for some time. Whenever a new person stepped up to read from the little scrolls which bore the official kingdom seal, Rue listened eagerly. But as the crowd of Tribute members dwindled, still her name was not called.

A new worry began to crop up in her mind.

What if she had somehow been overlooked or forgotten?

What if her name was not on a scroll at all?

Without noticing it, Ruelle began nervously shifting from one foot to the other. Why were there so many different groups anyway? Weren’t all the Tribute members here for the same thing? What was the point in having so many people appointed to oversee them?

The sun had begun dipping into the west by the time things were wrapping up. Only two people remained who had not called Tribute members. Likewise, only two Tribute members remained uncalled.

Those last two members were Ruelle and Gaius.

They exchanged nervous, confused glances as they stood, uncomfortably alone, sizing up the final pair before them – a male Dwarf with a frown creasing his brow, and an older Human woman who carried a large leather bag in crossbody fashion. Neither looked like especially exciting people.

The Dwarf was the first to step forward. His deep-set eyes squinted with a tinge of wariness beneath thick, dark eyebrows. He held up his paper, gave it a final scan even though it only had one item written on it, and called out:

“I am here for one by the name of Gaius Aldhelm.”

Gaius, who’d been standing by barely restraining his twitchy, restless energy, practically lurched forward.

“That’s me,” he announced. At the last moment, he thought to do an awkward bow.

The Dwarf did not return the gesture. Instead, he simply said, “I am Yorrick Blackshield, apothecary alchemist. You’ll be coming with me.”

Gaius simply gawked in bewilderment. Ruelle was sure he must be wondering the same thing as she was.

What in the world is an apothecary alchemist?

Since Gaius evidently appeared at a loss for words, it was Yorrick who spoke next.

“How old are you, boy?” he asked, looking Gaius up and down with that same squinty look about his eyes.

“I’m fourteen, sir,” Gaius responded. He seemed even more unsure than usual as to what to do with his lanky frame, seeing as he was almost a whole head and shoulders taller than the Dwarf he was currently facing off.

Yorrick frowned and muttered something Ruelle didn’t quite catch but she was fairly certain had sounded something a lot like, “That’s suspicious.”

An awkward silence hung in the air.

“Well, alright, let’s be off,” Yorrick said.

And that was that.

Gaius barely had time to turn and give a parting wave to Ruelle, and then he was gone, leaving Rue behind feeling suddenly very alone.

And then there was only the one woman remaining.

Ruelle forced herself to stand still as the woman unrolled her small scroll – an all but needless gesture.

She forced herself to listen, to hear, as the stranger called out:

“Ruelle Eastwood?”

The woman’s clear voice might have been welcoming or threatening. Her small smile as Ruelle met her eyes might have been warm or foreboding. Either way, Ruelle’s heart pounded as though she stood upon the brink of death itself. Her feet felt rooted to the ground, keeping her in place, holding her back from the future she was suddenly unsure she wanted to face.

But somehow she found enough courage to reply, “Yes, that’s me,” although in a small voice, and just enough presence of mind to keep the words, “Who else would it be?” from tumbling out as well.

Time, which had seemed to slow just a moment before, now felt as if it had sped up as the woman took the first step toward Ruelle.

“My name is Altha Silverthorn. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ruelle.”

Ruelle finally stepped forward as well.

“Thank you,” was all she could say.

Having closed the distance between them at last, Ruelle got a quick chance to take in the woman’s appearance in a bit more detail. She was moderately fair in complexion, with clear gray eyes, a straight nose, and light, silvery gray hair worn in a braid over her shoulder. While not unusually tall, she stood straight, with a bearing of regal confidence that her commoner’s clothes did not suggest.

“Well, it is getting late,” Altha spoke, either unaware that Ruelle was studying her or politely ignoring the fact. “Let’s go gather up your belongings. We can talk more on the way.”

“Thank you Altha,” spoke the head of the guards, whom Ruelle had completely forgotten were still present. “We will accompany you, and then our work here is done today.”

As promised, the guards did follow Altha and Ruelle back to where the last few Tribute members were colleting whatever items they had brought with them from home under the supervision of a handful of the officials who had earlier inspected and sorted the same items. Most people had already taken their things, so it did not take long for Ruelle to locate her belongings; everything fit into one crate.

“This is all,” she told Altha once she had procured her possessions.

“Wonderful. Then let’s be on our way.”

Ruelle started to follow the woman, but not before she turned around and took one last look at the ship that had brought her here. Against the last colorful streaks of the setting sun, it looked like it came out of a dream. The fingers of melancholy started to curl around Rue’s heart rather unexpectedly.

Altha must have noticed Ruelle’s lingering gaze, and perhaps she sensed the girl’s mixed feelings, too, for she said, “I think you will find Paxaria very interesting. There’s never a lack of excitement as a physician’s apprentice.”