Winter arrived in Malamut. The swamps froze over and the evergreen trees were warped by harsh winds.
Orion, Hazel, Bas, and Tam had traveled far throughout the South. With the position of the capital being in the North-West of Malamut, it had not been hard to maintain a good distance away from there.
The town they stopped in had no graveyard close by. With how close they were to being done with their travels and heading back to the capital, they took a break.
The local pub was lively. It was made of straw and brick with wooden floors. Sirius had been allowed inside after a brief inquiry. One of the workers led them to an empty table. The chairs and table were decent despite some scratches on them.
“Two rooms. Four cold ciders,” Bas ordered. He glanced at Tam, Hazel, and Orion who were already sitting down and tacked on, “Non-alcoholic.” He paid the bill upfront.
“What,” Orion said with a grin, “Afraid of drinking against me?” Her competitive streak was surfacing.
“No.” Bas looked at her and deadpanned, “I just don’t want to deal with you drunk again.” He sat down at the table and looked around the place.
“I’m not that bad,” Orion dismissed.
“You are.”
Tam ignored them.
Hazel coughed politely and didn’t say anything. He looked somewhat sympathetic, but seemed not up to the task of lying for Orion’s pride.
Orion stuck her tongue out. She didn’t remember enough about the times they all drank together to object.
One of the workers, a quiet woman with thick eyebrows, delivered their drinks.
“You’re a very emotional drunk,” Hazel responded. His expression was complicated and yet he had clearly decided to go with the blunt approach. “You jumped between starting fights and crying while hugging us.” He poured some of his water into a small dish and placed Scorpion on the table.
Scorpion happily drank. She seemed to purposefully avoid getting the ribbon on her wet.
Orion clicked her tongue. She didn’t remember anything, so she couldn’t defend herself. Her ears turning red were out of frustration, not embarrassment.
Bas tapped his fingers in a row on the table. He raised an eyebrow.
Hazel and Orion followed Bas’ attention to Tam, who was clearly paying attention to the bar at their right.
A young woman had both of her elbows propped on the bar top. “Didn’t you hear? Hordes of undead are walking about in broad daylight.” Her skirt was embroidered in a foreign style.
“If the King does nothing, we’ll become another Saffi,” a middle-aged woman said. She had a large tankard in her hands and no flush to her cheeks.
“They’re sending out battalions. Some of the princes and princesses are coming here to help.”
“That’s not enough,” the older woman objected again. “What can those children do?”
“She’s right!” A broad set man bellowed. His boots were encrusted with mud and the dirt crumbled off as he stamped his feet. “What did they outlaw necromancy for if we just have a king with a black heart and soul.”
“Settle down,” the bartender snapped. He was a young man with sea green eyes and short brown hair. His clothes were clean and neat, without wrinkles. A long scar ran over his eye and down to his lips.
“Or what?”
“I’ll throw you out.”
“For what, disturbing the peace?” One of the group mocked.
“No, for disturbing my business.” The bartender pulled a rifle out from under the bar and openly threatened them. His round circular glasses slipped down his nose.
The group was quick to back off after that.
Sirius was growling and hissing for a bit; she had made herself at home underneath the table and her unease was easy to see. She only quieted down once the gun was put away.
Almost immediately after, a new phenomenon hopped through an open window and approached the bar. There was a medium sized animal with a fluffy tail. Grey and black was their color scheme.
“Trash panda,” Orion muttered on instinct.
“The fuck?”
“Is that a washbear?”
The animal seemed to be sniffing for something. They hopped up a bar stool and onto the counter.
Orion used her foot to hold Sirius back in case her companion decided to go after the washbear.
The bartender looked at the washbear for a moment before pulling out a clean glass and filling it with water. He put it on the counter in front of the creature.
The washbear seemed to nod towards the bartender. They clutched at the glass with their claws and started drinking.
“Are they important?”
“Washbears are sentient magical creatures that can sense water,” Tam clarified. “Despite how common they are compared to other creatures with magic, they are treated well. Travelers and villages use them to find water. Maskiff, in the Empire, has a few that are being raised by villages there to help find oases.”
“It seems this time that was a tavern,” Bas joked.
“I’ve heard stories of ocean pirates, even proper Stock Alliance ones, who swear that washbears know when storms are coming.”
Orion scrunched up her face. “What the fuck? How is their element water?”
Bas laughed. “Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to anyone else either.”
“Okay, and what was that thing the big fucking guy said about a black heart and soul?” Orion questioned. She knew about Saffi’s royalty and necromancy already. It was the phrasing that was strange to her. She sipped at her drink and appreciated the cold, fruity taste.
“‘Eyes are windows to the soul, so necromancers’ must be rotten.’ That was the phrase . . . the king used.” Hazel traced one of the scratches on the table with his fingernails.
Bas frowned and stood up. He held out his thumb. “How about another competition, Hazel?” His other hand held his flute, taken from his bag.
Based on Hazel’s reaction, he had been forcibly jolted outside of his memories. “Sure.” He hooked his thumb with Bas’ and got out his trumpet.
Orion still missed the internet, but the in person entertainment was nice. There was definitely something different from watching online.
Watching online.
Right.
Orion didn’t like to think about how her two sets of memories made her different. There was no one else in this world who might know about the internet except for a lazy old bastard they were going to kill.
Even less, she didn’t like wondering about which set of memories was hers. Was this something about how the afterlife worked? Some strange mix up. Had the soul and personality of Orion been strong enough to overpower the original owner of this body? Had they merged until they were no longer able to be distinct people? The last that she remembered as Orion, was trying not to die to a truck. It was possible that Orion had survived and Charlotte just got those memories randomly. It was also possible that Orion died and reincarnated as Charlotte, then Charlotte had to remember being Orion. It was impossible for her to know for sure.
Was this what happened to Tel Legen? Or was he different? Perhaps there were different ways that people crossed worlds accidentally.
“What are you thinking about?”
Orion glanced over at Tam and smoothed out her expression. “I’m just a bit mad that Bas didn’t get us alcohol for our big party. Nothing to worry about.”
It probably was something to worry about, but that didn’t mean Tam had to know.
