The Legend of Fables: Rubicund of the Scarlet Eyes

By Vilana

My name, she said, is Rubicund. But Ruby is easier and preferable to me.

The Areas of Fables were large and filled with all the fantasy creatures it sustained. Fourteen-year-old Rubicund had narrowly escaped a marriage set by her mother in the Settlements of Foundation, the most uneventful town in all of Fables. Now she has set her vivid red eyes on becoming a traveller like the revered Vagrants. She learns how to fight by training in the Domicile of Ordnance and meets Karachi, the orange-eyed stoic denizen, and Kazak, the sarcastically unstable warlock. Together, they are joined by Lanna, the gentle Valkyrie Blairwitch, and her two loyal followers. To protect Rubicund, Kazak is swept into the wicked Feast of the Gild Elves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Feb 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482863741

Vilana

Vilana is a full-time NEET and Japanese anime and movie addict who cosplays and makes her own costumes. She tends to play fantasy-based games, like Dragon Nest and Defence of the Ancients, and loves to read and write books that alternate between teen fiction romance, science fiction, and fantasy. Follow her on Instagram, @vilanaliew, for pictures of her works and random snapshots.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Vilana.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

www.partridgepublishing.com/singapore

Contents

Foreword

Part One:    The Traveller

The Settlements of Foundation

The Florae of Waterway

The Domicile of Ordnance

La Carnival de Wile

Part Two:    The Guild

The League of Sprites

The Drunken Navy’s Road

The Land of Exiles

Imnocaiphius; the Golden City

Imnocaiphius; The Feast

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Foreword

T he Legend of Fables wasn’t something I had planned to write. In fact, I only had the urge to write a fantasy-game-ish story after being inspired by Sword Art Online . I was going to write a story similar to Epic by Conor Kostick, but then I realised that I wanted more. It wasn’t enough to have only half of that world; I wanted to live in it completely. And so Fables was slowly constructed, Area by Area .

I was incredibly enthusiastic about The Legend of Fables that it was all I could talk about during the writing period, day and night. My father couldn’t understand why I kept diving for the floor no matter how many times I explained it. I got inspiration and thought better while I literally rolled on the floor. I really tried my best to paint a picture of Fables, but words can only go so far. And because of that, there will be spaces in your imaginations to fill so that each and every one of my readers will have their very own version of Fables. Please go ahead; I am all for creating your own world.

Of course, there were many factors that affected my story, and that was the fantasy creatures themselves. How do I make them real? How do I blend them into existence and make it seem like something completely ordinary to have Fairies and Warlocks and Leprechauns and so on?

The best thing about The Legend of Fables is that anything is possible. It was an utterly new place, unknown to mankind, and I wanted nothing more than to spend all my time exploring it. Houses were made out of flowers in the Florae of Waterway, crests upon Blacksmith houses in the Domicile of Ordnance, and evil Scelri that worshipped the even more malevolent Tilyh, Goddess of Serpents. All the things people played in games, I could meet there.

It was hard at first because I wasn’t actually a good gamer. The only computer games I’ve ever played were Pokémon (red, blue, emerald, gold, silver, leaf green, yellow, fire red…you get the idea), Megaman (exe, starforce), Half Life 2, Left 4 Dead and Harvest Moon. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget Plants vs. Zombies. The problem was that none of these actually have fantasy creatures—the type I wanted—so I had to rely on my brother’s expertise with DotA and Dragon Nest and learn some gaming terms like Farming.

By the way, my favourite DotA character is the Lightning Revenant (though my brother killed everyone too quickly whenever he used it). And maybe Zeus, Lord of Olympia, because he could zap anyone from anywhere. I especially like the cheat codes (whosyourdaddy, greedisgood999999) because they’re like puns.

The good thing was that I love reading R.A. Salvatore’s Forgotten Realm series: the Legend of Drizzt. It helped me understand the real fantasy world more. Those were also the only books that helped me expand The Legend of Fables nicely because I realised that Fables didn’t need to be from anywhere, didn’t need a factual reference. I could just write up a castle in the middle of nowhere and it would be so.

Anyway, this story is more than Fables, the fantasy world where anything can come true, where saying you ran into an army of Orcs and had to ride on the Cerberus to defeat them all with a Leprechaun and a Warlock and a few different races by your side is an equivalent to saying you went for a walk in the park here. It is about being able to do whatever you want to. It is about being able to look at someone with red eyes and say you are a Traveller, even though you are only a fourteen year old girl.

The more I wrote this story, the more it spoke to me, and maybe even about me, at some points. It became more than a place I wanted to escape to whenever I didn’t like whatever was happening in real life. I may have created Fables because it was something exciting at first, but then it inspired me. I wrote a lot of stories before, but The Legend of Fables reminded me why I liked writing in the first place.

When faced with the question of whom is it that I’m writing for, it kind of stumped me. Who am I writing for? I was mulling that same question over and over for days, not writing a single word in that time. But when inspiration suddenly hit me out of nowhere, the words just flew out of my fingers. When I write, I don’t actually plan the stories. I write as I go along, and when I read back what I write, it’s the first time I know anything about it. Then I figured that that was my answer. I wasn’t writing for anybody. I was writing for the sake of writing, for the love of the English language, and for…I don’t know. I guess I wrote for myself. The less I wanted to be in this reality, the better I wrote about a new one that was full of possibilities.

There is nothing more thrilling than to create something out of nothing. There is nothing better than to be so absorbed in what you’re doing, and when you let others read it, they beg for more. This may not be what life is about, but it certainly feels livelier than simply living here, in this place people call ‘reality’. How does one judge reality? It is where you are conscious at any point of time. And I can tell you that Fables has become a great reality, and I am proud of it.

So, to all those who love their own reality, read on. For no one has to bend to be what others want you to. They may talk and say things, or look at you in ways that are unpleasant, but they are the ones who will feel this negativity. As long as you do what you truly feel fulfils you, you’re the one that is happy, and no one else matters if they cannot join in.

Dreamers… Enjoy!

Part One:

The Traveller

The Settlements of Foundation

A girl sat at the brink of a steep cliff that overlooked the simplest town in all of Fables; The Settlements of Foundation. She chewed the end of a thick stem of a plant only grown in this Area of Fables as the warm breeze lifted her heavy locks of chestnut, wavy hair. Her bare feet swung dangerously over the edge, but she wasn’t unduly worried. Even if she fell, she would just execute some somersaults and end up totally fine at the foot of the cliff. She should know; she had tried it before.

After all, The Settlements of Foundation was the most boring, uneventful town in any of the Areas.

I thought I’d find you here, a boyish voice called from behind her. She didn’t even bother to turn around as she patted the spot next to her, inviting him to sit. Your mother asked me to pass you this message: ‘Rubicund, if you do not return by ten, do not return at all’. Quite harsh, isn’t she?

The girl shrugged indifferently. I would be too, if I had a daughter like me, and if I was like her.

And what is she like? the boy asked curiously. He leaned his head back so that the winds fanned his face deliciously. It smelt, for want of better words, fresh and green.

Don’t you know, Brunet? Rubicund rolled her eyes. "She is just like everybody else in this town. Content," she spat, like it was a dirty word.

And you’re not? he teased, his light green eyes sparkling with humour. He knew very well that the girl wasn’t satisfied to just live through life for the sake of living. Brunet ran a hand through his unruly dark curls.

Almost everyone in The Settlements of Foundation had the same hair, for it was such a small town that everyone was related to everyone else either by blood or by marriage. Rubicund’s twice removed great grand uncle’s cousin’s wife’s brother’s son’s daughter’s second cousin’s son was Brunet’s father. It was one of the loosest family ties in the small town, and unbeknownst to the children, their families were planning to betroth them.

Of course not, she told him passionately. She waved a dismal hand at the town below them. "Just look at that! We’re barely up a hill, and the whole town is already far beneath our feet. I’m amazed that anyone can be gratified with such limitations."

Then what do you intend to do about it, Ruby? he sighed. She usually didn’t answer at this, but today, she looked like she might. Something seemed to be weighing on her, and she turned to him, her vivid red eyes flashing hazardously.

I want to leave, she whispered. The blaze in her eyes burned brighter than he’d ever seen it before. I want to leave before the hills close in on me, it chokes me so. I will start by going to the West Area, where the Domicile of Ordnance is and learn how to use a weapon. She began to talk more rapidly as her ideas fell into place. Once I do that, I can try to Farm and earn some rep before going for it.

Farm…? Going for it…?

I heard that hunting creatures like Kobolds, Gnomes, Goblins and others in certain Areas is called Farming, because most of those creatures have Toll in them, so when you kill them, you might get Items and Toll, she related to him eagerly. I want to Travel, Brunet, like the Vagrants.

He looked at her in dismay. The Vagrants are nothing but a bedtime story, and you’ll probably just get yourself killed!

She rose to her feet indignantly. Well, then. Thank you for your vote of confidence. I do hope you enjoy your tedious lifestyle here, because I certainly don’t!

He tugged her down again with a groan. That is not what I meant. Are you sure about this, Ruby? You’re barely fourteen.

What has age to do with it? she scowled. And I will be fourteen by tomorrow! That is close enough. Ever since Brunet turned sixteen, he’d never stopped teasing her about her youth, and it rankled to no end. It didn’t help that Brunet was one of those handsome boys who turned heads and made girls giggle when he passed by in the back-country school.

You are so young, will anyone take you seriously? he asked doubtfully. She sprang up again crossly.

Age has nothing to do with it! she almost yelled at him. The Vagrants weren’t that much older than me when they started either, or they couldn’t have covered so much land.

I told you, the Vagrants are nothing but a bedtime story for children ardent for glory, he huffed.

She started to walk away from him, back stiff. Once he started dishing out the ‘children’ insults, Rubicund was out.

Ruby, he called back in exasperation. Ruby!

Goodbye, Brunet, the ferocity in her voice was undiminished. Brunet gave up then, for there was no changing her mind once it was set.

She scampered up and down the treacherous rocks, agile like a Pixie, weaving her way through the timberland by the untraditional route. Rubicund found no joy in following the ready-made path, for it was predictable; safe, and dull. She was in a bigger hurry than usual, for today, Brunet’s hateful words echoed in her skull, beating at her brain, reminding her time and again that she was young.

Well, only the young ones get to be really reckless, she told herself firmly. It wasn’t like Denizens could do a lot when they were older. Now was the best time to get out there, before she was old and lame, and worst of all, content. Something about that word irked her, like a personal insult to life. It hinted at the ending of something, when people stopped doing things and just be. No, she told herself. She would never accept contentment of any sort until she had scoured all of Fables’ Areas.

Rubicund made her way home, first entering the side gates that led to the hills beyond, then moving across the little, narrow streets lined by tiny trader marts. Even in that short time, she had already passed by more than three Inns. The Settlements of Foundation was well known for its monotonous lifestyle, inviting anyone who wanted to go for a short retreat. No outsider ever really settled down there, for it was too uneventful a town.

She finally arrived at a small, wooden house. Ivy crept up the sides, not messily, but in a decorative fashion. It was a sweet cottage, but nothing fancy. Neighbours were by every side, for the Valley Area that The Settlements of Foundation was in was too small to give any one person too much space. All houses were terrace houses here in The Settlements of Foundation. Trader marts were practically on top of the narrow roads.

Rubicund stood on the doorstep, staring blankly at the dark wood. She didn’t want to go in, didn’t want to hear her mother nag about appreciating the little things in life, and above all, didn’t want to go back to the dreary chores being a laundry woman’s daughter entitled her to. Sighing, she lifted her hand to the handle, but the door swung inwards before she could touch it.

There her mother stood; an older, lined, washed-out version of her. Rubicund had always thought that her mother was beautiful, with glossy waves of dark hair and flashing red eyes, but in the recent years, she’d given up on that belief. Surely no beautiful woman would frown so, as if just by looking at her, she is reminded of all the bad things life offered.

Where have you been, Rubicund? asked her mother, not budging an inch by the door, blocking off the entrance of the small frame.

Looking down at the Valley by the hills, Rubicund responded.

A disapproving look followed. And why were you doing that?

Why not? She gave up on sneaking around the corner.

Because you should have been here, working with me! her mother scolded, raising her voice. A few of their neighbours peeked out of their houses, but most just ignored it. It was too common an occurrence to really incite any excitement.

Why should I have to do it? Rubicund raised her voice as well. Both mother and daughter had no regard for what their neighbours thought, so it didn’t trouble them unduly to make a scene. "Just because you chose this life doesn’t mean I will as well!"

Their similar shocking crimson eyes locked and a tense stare-down ensued. Finally, one of the bolder of their neighbours couldn’t take it anymore and called out to them.

Stroma, just let the girl in already!

At the mention of her name, Rubicund’s mother blinked a few times, as if she’d been smacked.

Mind your own business, Stroma snapped at her interfering neighbour. She gave her daughter a withering look. Get inside; we will further this discussion later.

Rubicund didn’t spare a second to glare back, preferring to duck into the safe confines of her room. She glanced around at her meagre belongings, wondering just how much was actually worth to take for the long term trip she had in mind. In the blink of an eye, she had her worn Starter rucksack open on her bed, stuffing a light, flexible pair of clothing that she deemed sturdy enough for the day and a pair of warmer night clothes. Rubicund was sure that she would never have enough money to actually lodge in any of the Areas’ Inns unless they were in the Settlements of Foundation.

Next, Rubicund counted out her money, surprised to find that there was more than she had thought. Then again, it wasn’t like there was anything in this town that she wanted. Here, they mostly sold souvenirs or retreat-like things. Those were all things that she didn’t need. Eighty Tolls weren’t much as her life savings, but it was more than she needed as a start to her journey.

A loud banging on her door brought her attention to it. She cracked it open and peered out into her mother’s furious face. Rubicund sighed inwardly. What did she want now? Why couldn’t her mother ever ease up on her?

Ruby, Stroma hissed through her teeth. Get your lazy bottom to the workroom and don’t come out until every last piece of cloth is sparkling.

Rubicund glanced back at her rucksack and knew that there really wasn’t anything else to pack. She slipped out through the small space in the door, making sure the contents on her bed were concealed. She did not want Stroma to realize what she was up to.

She set to pouring water into the large wooden tong along with a ready-separated packet of soap foam. Soon, Rubicund was scrubbing all sorts of clothes in the bubbling water. Washing each piece of clothing was only worth about as much as one Toll. Unless the owner wanted it to be washed separately and specifically, then that still would only be worth five Tolls. But rarely anyone would bother to ask to separate them.

After two hours of toiling and scrubbing her hands raw, she was done. Rubicund hated washing clothes. It was pretty much all she ever did. She despised the feel of soapy water and the mountain of clothes that always awaited her no matter what she did. When she came out from the workroom—a small room with enough space for a tong and a person to sit—her mother had already set supper on the table. Rubicund quirked an eyebrow. Usually Stroma made her do everything.

What is the occasion? she asked when Stroma came back into the room with a pot of stew.

Stroma smiled at her daughter. Rubicund started. It was a rare sight, one that her mother rarely showed to her especially.

Today is our shop’s anniversary, Stroma replied. If you’re done, go wash up and sit down to supper.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Quick as a flash of lighting, Rubicund had cleaned her face and hands and changed into a fresh set of clothes. She barrelled back into the main room, feeling happy and excited for the first time in forever.

How many years has it been? Rubicund asked her mother as she scooped out a generous helping into her mother’s bowl, and then her own.

I started this shop when you were two years old, Stroma said proudly. It has been twelve years now.

Good grief! Rubicund bit the inside of her cheek so as not to let her dismay show. How could anyone wash a mountain of clothes every day of her life for twelve years and be proud of it? Or rather, it really was something to be proud of; it was ridiculous.

And I have good news for you, Stroma continued in that suspiciously rare, happy tone.

Rubicund raised an eyebrow. What is it?

I will give you the savings that I have put aside for you. Every year, I’ve put in ten Tolls into a Saving box for you, she smiled brightly. Rubicund was again amazed at her mother’s beauty. But more than that, she was amazed at what her mother was currently telling her.

You are giving me one hundred and twenty Tolls? she hardly dared breathe in case it shattered the quaint illusion. Why now?

Well, you are facing your fourteenth birthday tomorrow, her mother said. Her face was now cautious. Suspicion seeped into Rubicund’s veins like a virus, slowly tainting her light mood and turning sour.

And? she was certain that her mother would never give her so much as a birthday present.

Well, I have arranged for you to be married a week after your fourteenth birthday to your friend, Brunet. His family has already agreed as well, Stroma said all this quickly, hoping her daughter wouldn’t interrupt in between.

Rubicund stopped eating, stunned. What? Does Brunet know about this?

Stroma shook her head. No, we agreed to tell the both of you today.

Why? she asked accusingly. I can’t marry Brunet! He’s…he’s… well, there was nothing wrong with him per se, but she didn’t want to settle down any time soon, and here, of all places. She wasn’t surprised at the age, though. Many a person married at thirteen in this Area. The oldest girl who ever got married had tied the knot at the age of sixteen.

He’s the only one you talk to regularly, and you two have the farthest blood relation, so that is good for future children, Stroma finished her sentence for her. She got up and disappeared into her room, returning with a sturdy Toll bag that held the hundred and twenty Tolls. Stroma gave the bag to Rubicund. This time next week, you will be married to Brunet, and live happily ever after in the peaceful Settlements of Foundation.

Rubicund was repressing her shaking. She just smiled at her mother and ate up the stew. She had planned on leaving tonight, anyway. If pretending to agree with her mother meant that she would be a hundred and twenty Tolls richer, she would do it. She would also eat as much food as she could so that she wouldn't get hungry too soon on the road.

Sorry, mother, she thought. But this time next week, I will be in the Domicile of Ordnance. I will be learning to use weapons and start Farming. And then, she swallowed another mouthful, I will Travel the Areas of Fables.

After supper, Stroma’s good mood had exhausted and she ordered Rubicund to clean all the dishes before going to bed. Rubicund had stuck her tongue out behind her mother’s back but did it all anyway.

Once she was in her room, Rubicund took out a sheet of paper and a pencil.

Dear mother, she wrote. I cannot be tied down any more than you can cage a bird. Just so you know, I planned to leave tonight even before you told me about the marriage deal. Don’t blame yourself for giving me the extra Toll; I still would have left. I will be going to travel like the Vagrants in the stories you used to tell me about. I will send word of my health I love you very much even though you make my ears bleed every day. Love, Rubicund.

That night, whilst Stroma slept comfortably in her room, Rubicund carried her rucksack and quietly sneaked out of the little cottage. Every little creak had her cringing back in horror, pausing after every step to make sure that her mother was still oblivious. Once she finally made it out of the front door, she heaved a few sighs of relief.

A sound to her right made her jump. She whipped her head around to see a big silhouette emerging from the shadows. When he stepped out of the darkness, Brunet was smiling sadly.

Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! Rubicund whispered fiercely, her heart beating wildly.

No, Brunet’s voice was hushed as well. But the sadness flowed through his voice like water making its way around stones in a river. Are you leaving for good this time?

I’m going for the journey I need, she replied, peering curiously into his face, wondering why he looked and sounded so sad.

Is the idea of marrying me so repugnant? he sighed quietly.

Rubicund frowned at him. Of course. Did you want to marry me? We would have been stuck with each other for all our lives in this place!

Brunet looked at her in a way that made her feel sad as well, though she did not know why.

I don’t understand, she admitted. What are you trying to say?

I am trying to say that I have feelings for you, Ruby, the words came out choked. I have felt this way since you were eight and I was ten. I wanted to marry you.

Rubicund was stunned. She didn’t know what exactly it was he meant by feelings for her, but she understood that he was saying he would have liked to live with her for the rest of his life.

But… she was confused. I can’t marry you. Not yet, at least. Do you not see, Brunet? I have to do this!

Brunet’s heart was tearing, and it showed on his face though he tried to rein it in. He had loved her for as long as he could remember. He loved seeing the fire in her red eyes, loved the depths of her feelings though she didn’t know it yet. She was the reason why so many girls were rejected though many were prettier and more feminine than she.

How did you know I would leave tonight anyway? she whispered, still bewildered.

He sighed. Because of what you said earlier. You finally planned it out, though it’s still very vague. You always act on your words right away.

It was true, and she scowled at the ground, not liking that she was so predictable.

I guess this is goodbye, Brunet hugged her. She put her arms around him, for the first time feeling a little sad to leave. He was her best friend, and she had always liked being near him. A lump in her throat showed her reluctance at leaving him.

Goodbye, she whispered in his ear, impulsively kissing his cheek. And then she was gone, melting into the darkness of the night.

It was the first time she had consciously rejected a boy. It did not leave her with a skip in her step, though her lips buzzed with the feeling of Brunet’s skin. He would be the only one she missed from this town.

The Florae of Waterway

R ubicund spent the night lying on a comfortable bed of fresh heather. Long, wide leaves from overhead trees were used as her blankets. Although the Valley Area in which the Settlements of Foundation lay was small, it was quite deep. She had a long way to go if she wanted to get to the Domicile of Ordnance, which was her present target. The only weapon she had on her at the moment was a small kitchen knife she’d guiltily relieved her mother of.

The sun rose majestically over the mountains. The light of it shone through her closed lids, pouring the colour red into her dreams and she awoke. For a long moment, her bleary mind could not comprehend the unusual surroundings. When she remembered what she was doing wrapped up in leaves and heather in the mountains, she leapt to her feet, feeling light and exuberant. A delighted chirp burst through her full lips, as was her odd way of squealing happily. The birds that were hidden in the thick of the trees chirped in reply, their sweet song getting picked up over and over by new ears.

She caught sight of the berry bush that she’d marked out yesterday with a long stick and had some blackberries for breakfast. Rubicund didn’t worry over-much about the dark stains the sweet juices left behind. She knew that quite a few streams ran through this mountain and would clean up when she chanced upon it sooner or later.

Soon, she was hiking again.

She found a small stream that smelled fresh even from four feet away. Rubicund did her best to clear the dark ink, glad that she had been careful to avoid getting any on her clothes. Since she only had two other pairs besides the ones she was wearing, clothes were pretty priceless things to look after. Once that was done, she trudged her way along the stream, stopping once in a while to snag some other berries from nearby bushes.

All of a sudden, the sounds in the woods hushed, as if someone had hit the ‘mute’ button on a television set. Warning bells clanged at the back of her head and she went on full alert, throwing her guards up and keeping close to a tall tree. If the thing that made the animals quiet was dangerous, she would be up the tree before it could say—

A-choom!

Rubicund had expertly leaped up the tree like a cat at the sound. She fought to keep her hold on the flimsy branch that she sanctioned upon. A few minutes went by, but she daren’t come down because the animals were still maintaining their silence. A crashing sounded, and a man appeared through the thicket. Rubicund peered down at him. There were small logs that he pushed in a wheelbarrow in front of him, and a large, shiny axe slung diagonally across his back. It was a woodcutter.

She swung down from the branch and landed silently behind him, feeling relieved. The woodcutter jumped, startled, and turned around with a fierce look on his face. When he saw that it was only a girl, his tense shoulders relaxed.

What are you, a panther? the burly woodcutter rumbled. I thought one of the mountain cats caught up to me!

Sorry, Rubicund apologized with a puzzled look. She didn’t know how the panther looked or sounded like, so she didn’t understand the reference. Then she shook her head. Um, do you know the way to the Domicile of Ordnance?

The bulky woodcutter dropped his wood into the wheelbarrow, looking more stunned at the question than when he thought she was a panther. Eh, now. Why does a young girl like you want to go there?

I want to learn how to use a weapon, she said.

The woodcutter blinked. Are you going to be a Traveller?

She blushed at the title. I intend to.

He raised his eyebrows. The dark eyes of the woodcutter swept up and down her body, seeming to assess her capabilities. Then he turned away with a sigh. You don’t have what it takes, girl. You’re too young, and inexperienced.

Rubicund felt her heart harden at those words. They were words she was used to hearing, but she refused to let it get to her. I will be a Traveller, she affirmed stonily. The woodcutter’s head snapped around—surprised—to look at her. And he realised that he forgot to check the most important thing for a Traveller; the bright eyes of dreamers.

He looked into her eyes hard, and saw the most stunning brilliance that he had ever known. As a woodcutter in the mountains, he came across many who wanted to be Travellers, to follow the way of the Vagrants, and knew just as many who had turned back to where they came from. He had learned to assess the dullness in their eyes, to know if they will return, or if he would never see them again, which meant their success.

As the woodcutter saw the fire in Rubicund’s eyes, he knew beyond doubt that she would be the Traveller that all of Fables had never yet seen.

You’ve got good eyes, I’ll give you that. The woodcutter stroked his beard thoughtfully. Then he dug into the large mountain bag on his shoulders and produced a beautiful, fresh notebook. He handed it over to the surprised girl. I just made that yesterday. The covers are oak; the binding still has the bark on it. The papers were made after many hours of shearing. If you put those eyes to use, I’ll be hearing a lot about you. Make sure you write your adventures down nicely. If you want to keep the oak bark binding, don’t Upgrade the notebook more than five times.

Rubicund didn’t know what to say. He had just paid her with not just the highest compliment she could ever hear, but also had given her a gift for free. But I have nothing to write it with, she murmured, stroking the thick wooden cover of her most precious Item.

You’ll have to buy a pen or pencil at a mart, then, he said, and his tone rang with finality. Now be on your way. The path that leads to the Domicile of Ordnance is tinged with the colour red, and on the first fork, take the blue path. You will have to go through the Florae of Waterway before you can get to the next red path. After that red path ends, it’s the Domicile of Ordnance. Good luck to you. He tipped his mountain hat and wheeled his wheelbarrow away, disappearing almost instantly into the forest. He hoped that she would be like her eyes, and that he would never see her in this backwater place again.

Thank you, she yelled after him. She thought she heard a snort in the distance, but she wasn’t sure. Rubicund glanced down at her treasure and hugged it to her chest before adding it to the meagre contents of her backpack. First she had to go to the red path, then blue, then the Florae of Waterway, and then the red path again.

Her vivid red eyes shone with new determination. I can do this, she told herself. If I say I can, then I can. I can do this, she repeated. A smile split her face from ear to ear and she set off, searching for the red path that would lead to the beginning of her life.

It happened by chance. For such a big start to a promising destiny, she had stumbled upon the red path on accident. Rubicund had been searching while plucking some berries from the bushes when she heard a twig snap. She froze, listening intently. And then the sound of an unmistakable growl had her scrambling up the nearest tree. Something launched from its hiding place behind some bushes, reaching out after her. The animal’s claws narrowly missed her legs by mere centimetres.

Up in the tree, Rubicund saw that it was a mountain cat; a cougar. That wasn’t good, because they could climb trees too. So when the great cat sprang from its crouch and launched itself into her tree, she jumped down and her reflexes kicked in. She jumped and rolled and leaped and ran for all she was worth. And then she rolled out of a bush and unto the red path. The cougar roared at her, pacing the edges of the path.

She breathed a sigh of relief. It was clear that the other creatures couldn’t step unto the Denizen’s pathways. Rubicund looked closely at the red path to see that it was lined by these crystal-like stones that shone slightly. With a start, she realised that they were Sorcerer stones and felt a surge of excitement. This was really happening; she was really on her way. And she set off down the path with a skip in her step and a smile on her face.

Before long, she reached the fork in the path that the woodcutter had mentioned. The red path had simply forked into three other pathways; one red, one blue, and another grey. What was it that the woodcutter said? She thought hard. When the path forked, pick the blue one. She was tempted to go to the other paths, wondering where they would lead her. Perhaps the Tower of Wails? Or maybe the Fields of Hunters. And then she shook her head. She couldn’t do anything except to run from animals in the mountain. She looked forward and stepped onto the blue path. She would have to learn how to use a weapon first. The scarlet eyes of Rubicund burned bright. Here I come; she smiled, thinking of the Domicile of Ordnance.

Rubicund looked left and right as she went along the luminous blue path. The trees thinned before her eyes, transforming into smaller, more colourful plants. She caught her breath every now and then at the sight of some particularly beautiful blooming flowers. And then abruptly, the blue path ended. She stepped out of it and unto a bridge. The bridge itself was a marvellous sight to behold. The thick wood was carved intricately, and the care the wood carver put into it was felt.

Tears sprang into her eyes as she ran her hand along the bridge, and there was something of a sweet ache in her chest, although she could not understand why. She sobbed painfully when she reached the edge of the bridge and was suddenly gripped with the urge to stay there forever. Rubicund hung on to the bridge for dear life and couldn’t let go, though rational thought was telling her that she was behaving oddly.

Just then, a woman passed by that end of the bridge and saw her. Flowers were everywhere on her person. There were purple and blue flowers in her hair, and she wore a necklace of small red bell flowers. Even her dress was made of many different types of flowers woven together, as were the sandals on her feet. When the woman laid eyes on Rubicund, an exasperated look crossed her face and she lurched forward towards the red-eyed girl, leaving some flowers behind.

Not many come through the Constant Bridge from that side anymore, the woman sighed, her breath as sweet as the flowers she wore. She plucked a flower from her hair and pushed it into the bewildered red-eye’s hand. At once, Rubicund recovered, and she quickly jumped down from the bridge, shaking with apprehension.

"What was that?" she whispered. She had never felt such longing, such pain in her life.

The woman looked her over and gave her a smile. Well now, dearie, you look like a right simple girl, you do. How would you like to come into my floral abode and I’ll tell you all about it? My name is Freesia, by the way, she held Rubicund’s hand and led the way, not giving her a chance to say no.

My name is Rubicund, she said, still grateful to the flower-covered lady for saving her from such a spell. But it’s easier and preferable to call me ‘Ruby’.

‘Ruby’ it is, then, Freesia laughed. As they walked, Rubicund kept gasping at the sights around her. There was so much space between the many, many buildings. The buildings themselves were works of art; all of them had different heights and shapes but all had something to do with flowers. The most common design seemed to be in the shape of an almost-bloomed flower bud.

Flowers were everywhere. They decorated the tops, sides, and gardens of the Area. This Area was much larger than the Settlements of Foundation. The flowers just went on and on for as far as the eyes could see. Rubicund was sure that she had never seen so many colours in one place before. And the scents! She took in a deep breath through her nostrils, enjoying the sweet scents that she’d never smelled before.

The people all wore the same type of clothes, fashioned from the flowers all around them. If Rubicund had to describe them, she would say that they looked like flowers themselves.

Freesia! someone called and waved to her. Freesia smiled and waved back. A lot of them were giving Rubicund and Freesia some curious looks, but Freesia ignored them. They didn’t go out of their way to question her, and so they reached Freesia’s house in a short time. Rubicund gasped in wonder.

It’s amazing… she murmured, staring at the building wide-eyed. Freesia’s house was in the shape of a rose in full bloom, coloured only by the abundance of flowers that surrounded it.

It is, isn’t it? Freesia stepped back to survey her house with new eyes, trying to see it from Rubicund’s point of view. "It is beautiful, darling. I do so admire my handiwork to a fault. Not many can make their floral abodes bloom so well."

What? Rubicund was confused. These aren’t normal buildings?

Freesia burst out in laughter. Oh, dearie, of course they are not! We have to grow them.

Grow them? Rubicund echoed.

Freesia smiled and went into her house, walking straight into it although there was no door in sight. She disappeared, much to Rubicund’s astonishment.

Well, come on, then! Freesia’s voice called from inside. Gingerly, Rubicund went forward and was through the front of the flower, surprised to meet no resistance. Freesia was laughing delightedly at the expression on Rubicund’s face.

The inside of the flower was much more normal, with the usual furniture; a table and some chairs. But they were all in the shape of flowers.

Do you grow these too? Rubicund asked.

Freesia smiled and nodded. Oh yes, I do grow them all, dearie. Now, would you like a cup of lavender tea as I tell you the story?

Rubicund shuffled her feet. Um…I don’t know how lavender tea tastes like. I’ve never had it.

Oh no, surely not! Freesia exclaimed in horror. Well, you will have some today, and if you like it, I can give you a packet of the dried things. All you have to do is to steep them in hot water and add some sugar. Freesia disappeared through yet another petal. Rubicund assumed that each petal must be a door.

She sat down on a lily-pad-like chair, amazed that it didn’t move at all under her weight. So, the people of the Florae of Waterway must be