Artésque: The Fragment of Stoná Book Ii & Book Iii

By T. D. Cannon

The land of Artésque, a land of abundance, untapped wealth, and endless possibilities. Although, this mysterious land of plenty is also home to three newly arrived tribes seeking refuge from their old land, known as the Oválll. It has been five years since their first arrival, and as the sixth year nears three new additions are made to the land of Artésque. Yet, for these unlucky brothers, myths and fantasies have become real.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796050813

T. D. Cannon

I was seventeen when I first began work on this story and its future sequels. I never did enjoy writing or reading, as I was diagnosed with very severe dyslexia at an early age. Couple this with a learning disability and I often found myself struggling to get through even some of the simplest of text within my formative years. Although, I always enjoyed telling stories. Through this, I found my passion for writing, and at the age of seventeen, I began work on Artésque and its future sequels.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The night air is cool and damp, despite the light of the street lights that illuminates the sidewalk almost as if it was still day. Around the street puffs of steam climb up from manholes and storm drains, all with the same faint, but foul smells of the sewage just beneath the road.

The stench, luckily, does not truly work its way into the two men’s minds though; half from a simple resistant at leaving in the city and half because of their current goal. It was a little past one o’clock when they left the house, and their decision to just walk the block distance is now starting to wane on the heavier-set, Preston as he speaks up.

It’s frickin’ freezing out here, Damian. Preston holds his arms tightly to his chest as he looks up from the turtle like shell he has created within his jacket. Screw exercise, let’s go get the car.

His words bring a quick response from the man decked out in his normal shorts and light jacket walking ahead of him. Press, we’re almost there… Damien merely stretches his arms, like a bird flexing its wings as he yawns. Besides, it’s good for you. Quick little walk, get Matt, and we’ll head home.

Quick my ass… Preston gives a little groan as he turns his eyes to the building they pass. Most of the windows are bright, despite the closed shades, and the chatter of TVs and laughter pours into the cold street outside, only reminding the man further of what he could be doing. This of course only draws Preston’s voice up louder as he shakes his head. Next time Matt sneaks out of the house, we’re taking the car to hunt him down. And I say, we just go ahead and run him over, less work next time.

Mhmm…

I’m serious Damien. Twenty bucks says shrimp-dick is not even at the skatepark, and if he’s not, OH-man. Preston claps his hands together as he blows his breath. I’m gonna lay into him.

The words slow Damien’s walk as he turns back. Twenty bucks, huh? You think I don’t know where he’s at?

Preston squints to the confidence as he speaks up. Well… you know what, no, don’t give me that crap. You don’t know where he’s at. Twenty bucks, easy money.

Damien just holds his cocky smile as he nods. Alright, twenty bucks. He laughs. Oh, and by the way, me and Sara appreciate you pay for our movie tomorrow.

"Pff, movie night. Preston sighs as he attempts to tighten his arms around his chest a little more. Stream something and microwave some popcorn."

Wonderful idea. Damien wags a finger to his friend as he trails on. Tell me when that works out for you, and I’ll try it.

Preston chuckles. Don’t need a second date if you play the game right during the first one.

Oh yea? So how many strike-outs have you had?

Don’t. Preston chuckles again. Don’t make baseball jokes.

Damien nods. Jealous at my wit?

Jealous at your-… if that’s wit I can see why Sara stays with you. Preston stomps towards his friend, his voice taking on a higher pitch as he bats his eyes. Damien, Damien, let’s go to the movies, oh and pick me up, oh and let’s get drinks, popcorn, oh-oh, and some candy. You can pay right?

Damien shrugs. Twenty bucks and she’s happy.

Twenty bucks. Preston shivers a bit, his hands rubbing to his arms. Twenty bucks my ass, and don’t say that rewards card is worth it, it’s trash.

Mhmm. Damien merely shakes his head, ending the conversation as he turns to the dip in the street before him. The bend in the last apartment building comes past them, and they now stare to the chain link fence. However, as they move closer, they realize the lock on the fence is broken.

Damien sighs as he turns his eyes towards the single turned on arena light near the far left of the skatepark. Though as Preston comes to his left he speaks up, his hand gesturing to the lock. "Great now Matt is breaking into things-… OW!"

His hand is batted from the lock as Damien speaks up, his voice deep and almost annoyed to the statement of facts. Don’t touch it dumbass, they might check the lock.

A faint laugh escapes Preston as he rolls his hand back into his jacket, to create a makeshift glove to pull the fence open with. They? People do this shit all the time, no one cares. Heck, I’ve seen lights left on every week, just lock it after we leave, no one will know.

The laugh just rolls Damien’s eyes as he follows in after Preston, Let’s just get Matt before anyone sees us.

Preston looks back to Damien as he sucks to teeth, making a face as he stares to his more serious friend. "Let’s just get Matt before anyone sees us, duh-duh, don’t want anyone to see me in a skatepark duh-duh."

Just move, Preston.

The blond man continues into the park as his mocking trails on. "Oh, Preston, duh-duh, I love my dumbass brother duh-duh. Hope the cops don’t come and swab the lock. Preston breaks his joke with a laugh as he turns back to Damien. Like seriously, you actually think they’d do that? Dumbass."

Just shut up, Preston.

Preston cocks an eye to man as he leans back a little. Oooh, you’re actually mad this time, you finally gonna yell at him for his stupid shit? Or do I have to keep doing it?

Damien merely sighs as he starts into the stake park. The duo move past the empty concrete pools and wood made ramps to low sound of wheels rolling across the concrete within the park. The noise is fairly loud, most likely being echoed in one of the empty pools though it still takes the two men a few minutes to find the sound.

Though eventually it is a small light that draws their attention towards the back of the small skatepark. As they draw near the sight of Matt with a headlamp on takes their attention.

Damien is the first to speak up as he stands to the edge of the empty pool, his hands to his hips as he calls out. Matt!

The call does nothing as Preston comes up beside him, crossing his arms as he nods to the teen. He’s got headphones in, he can’t hear you. Here, let me try. Preston turns his attention to the ground as he picks up a small pebble and tosses it towards the kid.

Damien smacks a hand against Preston’s chest as he speaks up. Don’t throw something at him?!

Preston just shrugs as he calls out to where Matt stops, the dark haired kid turning his eyes to where Preston and Damien stand. Hey, dumbass, let’s go home!

Damien’s voice takes on a deep, and power commanding tone as he takes a step from Preston. What are you doing here? And why the Hell would you be dumb enough to turn on the lights after breaking in!?

Matt slowly brings his hands to the earbuds as he shakes his head. I-I didn’t turn it in, it was like that.

The response only raises Damien’s annoyance as he points a finger to him. Don’t lie to me, and look at me when you’re talking. You have any idea how worried I was? You said you’d be at a friends house, you lied.

Preston shrugs. He’d have to have a friend to-…

Hey. Damien points a finger to him. Shut up.

Preston just laughs as he throws his hands up and takes a step away, the smile bright to his face as Matt focuses in on it. The teen dips down to the rock Preston throw, taking hold of it as he chucks it back towards where the Preston stands.

Sighting Matt’s action Damien speaks up. Matt let’s go, get out of there and let’s head home.

Preston brushes off his leg where the small rock hit as he nods. Yea, it’s cold out here shrimp.

Fuck you, Preston.

At Matt’s comment Damien chimes in, putting a hand to Preston as he speaks up. Enough, just come on.

Preston just chuckles as he moves further away from the pool. Yo Matt, if you’re gonna break into the skatepark you could at least practice on the big boy ramps. No one is around to watch you bust ass-…

His joke is cut short as the young kid quickly kicks the skateboard up and throws it at the man. How’s about you get your fat ass down here then, huh!?

Preston narrowly dodges the board as he glances to Damien.

Stop! Damien brings his arm to Preston’s chest again as he speaks up. You calm down, and you shut up. His strong words continue as he turns to the young kid. Matt, get out, and let’s go.

Lowering his head Matt weakly replies. I need to practice.

The slight wine brings a hint of confusion to the tall man, as Damien shakes his head. Then come here after school or something.

Matt shakes his head. I can’t.

Preston remains quiet as he just squints to Matt’s expression, attempting to figure out if the kid is just playing with Damian as normal or not.

Damien shrugs as he takes notice his little brother’s quick change in posture. Why not?

B-because Travis and his friends always make fun of me. The teenage boy’s slightly cracky voice brings a slight laugh from Preston as he dips his hands into his pockets. Fuck, Travis.

Preston, shut up. Damien nods back to his brother. Who’s Travis? Did this guy hit you or-or say something to you?

The younger kid is quick to speak up. N-nothing like that, he just makes fun of me because I always fall on the half pipe. And I know I can get better if I practice.

Damien is silent for a moment as he looks over the kid’s face. But he nods as he brings his hand up. Five minutes.

His words quickly bring Preston’s voice up as he throws his hands in the air. What-are, you kidding me?

Damien takes a step towards Preston as he lowers his voice. Matt never cares about anything, just let him do this. What difference is five minutes going to make, Press? Damien moves to the board Matt throw as he speaks up. But uh, you gotta get out of there, go use the half-pipe if that’s what you want to practice. Just, you know, be quiet.

A smile quickly returns to Matt’s face, one that Preston quickly takes notice to, though he bites his tongue as he turns away.

Damien just rolls his eyes as he points to one of the dark blue benches scattered around the park, Just sit down, it’s five minutes.

Yea, yea, five minutes. A loud groan rolls from Preston as he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks after his friend. They both flop to the cold seats as they watch the younger kid trying to skate.

Damien pats his hand to Preston’s knee as he speaks up, Oh come on, it’s not even that cold out.

Mhmm…

The noise brings a slight laugh to the large armed man as he continues. Think about it like this, with us out here at least we know Matt’s safe? And since we are staying here a bit longer, the bet is off, yea?

Yea. Preston crosses his arms as he speaks up. So we keep him out here longer so that he’s too tired to hear it from your dad. Then tomorrow we have to go find him again and you get to be the good guy.

Damien shifts his hand from his friend’s knee as he nods. Dad don’t understand Matt’s problem, you can’t just yell at-… Before Damien’s comment can come to an end a high pitched and annoying ring chimes from his pocket. Oh, Sara’s calling.

He pulls his ringing cell phone from his pocket as he stands. Hey, make sure Matt doesn’t get hurt while I’m gone.

What, why?

Damien moves the phone to his ear as he speaks up, Because you’re the big brother while I’m busy. He moves away from the bench as he begins to answer the call. Leaving Preston to watch the teenage in front him.

- - -

(At Present)

…Preston?

The voice and hand to his knee quickly stirs the blond-haired man as he rushes his hand to his eyes and begins to rub. What? What happened?

Again the feminine voice comes back to his ears. "We are close to VéturVill… you feel asleep."

The words slowly prompt Preston to move his hands from his eyes, as he now stares to the tan skinned woman sitting across from him. Although, for a moment the carriage and brightly lit world around him seems to be nothing more than a dream.

His stare prompts the fuzzy, rounded eared satyress to cock her head as she moves her hand from his knee. A-are you well?

Y-yea. Preston’s lowers his voice as the rock of the carriage begins to stir him more into the waking world, the reality of his situation from before now coming back to him. I’m fine.

A slight smile comes to the woman’s face as she speaks up, You have been sleeping since we left. She forces the smile a bit more. Before that you bit at your nails… though, with everything that has happened, I understand your desire not to talk… and your fatigue.

Preston shoots his own half-hearted smile to the comment as he drifts his eyes to where his hands now rest in his lap. However, his gaze now sets to the two dark, brown furred legs poking out from the bottom of the women’s attire.

The lack of a response calls forth Clover once more, as her voice echoes to the carriage, though she turns away from the man before her all the same. "If you look out the window you can see the rolling fields around VéturVill. She nods. It may help stir your mind?"

The woman’s words snap Preston’s eyes up as he turns towards the window on his right, the same Clover looks out of. He shifts on the barely cushioned seat as he stares to the world around him. It is at this point his mind places the fresh and sweet grass smell that has taken over the cabinet he sits to. As far as his eyes can see there sits nothing but rolling fields of light green shoots of tall grass, mixed with a few patches of brightly colored wildflowers that wobble to the perfectly held climate of the world with each light breeze.

Clover’s own words move slow, like the cool air outside as she talks. I always enjoyed the fields. She sits back to her seat as she sighs. I find them soothing, far more than the busy streets of the Únoactroff. She glances back to Preston, obviously a bit uncomfortable with the one-sided conversation, though she continues on. "Master Nyota does not mind my commute, so long as I continue my unvérnity whenever he requests me. So I stay here."

Preston hesitates for a moment, but he lets his thoughts come out as he nods to the strange word. What’s that?

Hmm? Clover blinks to the comment though she quickly picks up to the man’s question as she nods. It means, um… a higher form of learning.

So like college or something?

His words only pause the woman’s gestures but Clover nods all the same. If that is a form of learning then, yes. Her tone picks up a little more as she holds her inquisitive eyes to the man. Did you… did you have a higher form of learning?

Preston smiles as he leans his head to the back of the carriage. I did.

Oh! Clover nods. Did you enjoy it?

It was alright. Preston sighs. But, I didn’t take it as seriously as Damien.

The name draws a simple nod from Clover, though she does not attempt to further the conversation as she looks over the man’s far off gaze. Instead, Clover shifts her eyes from the man, not knowing how to prompt him from his thoughts.

CHAPTER 1

Lively

The carriage has continued to rock over the dirt road, but the gentle movements have not pulled the blond man back to sleep. Instead he just stares to the ceiling above him, every so often glancing to the window, though never lingering to the strange world beyond him.

However, as of the last minute or so the sound of the turning wheels outside have started to be drowned out. The new sounds of random chatter and voice coming in front outside have started to take hold.

While none of the conversations can be totally understood, the sound of voices have taken hold of Preston’s attention. Especially as he starts to lower his head and attempts to listen in on the multitude of different accents and tones spilling in from outside.

Ten minutes pass, as the sound continues to draw the man’s interest, but he holds his questions at bay.

For the most part Clover has ignored the man’s gaze out the window, opting instead to keep the silence in the carriage. Half out of a desire to not talk, with the other half simply not wanting to remind the man of recently passed events. Luckily, as a few more moments pass, a voice from outside ends the woman’s awkward situation. Miss Vines, we have arrived.

The name rolls to Preston’s mind for a moment as he looks to the satyress across from him as she starts to move towards the door. Thank you.

The carriage quickly begins to roll to a halt as Preston shifts his legs for the woman now anxiously waiting to leave the carriage.

The carriage itself comes to a complete stop within a minute as Clover opens up the door and starts down the short staircase with ease. Preston following after her as he moves into the light of the late afternoon, his feet planting to the densely packed and well traveled dirt road beneath him.

The buildings around the street, from what Preston can see are all fairly similar. Most, two stories and made with the same type of light-brown wood similar to that of an oak look. Unlike the Capital, or Únoactroff as Clover called it, the buildings are simple in appearance, with few fancy flower boxes or really any color to them. However, before Preston can get a good look at the other inhabitants of the town Clover’s voice comes up.

Alright Preston, this is where you will be staying.

Preston turns to the somewhat rounded, two story house before him as he looks it over. Near the door there is a small wood cutout of a book, almost as if the house were a business of some sort. The building itself is not the biggest on the row, nor is it particularly one of the nicer looking structures. But, at the same time, the dull red wood door, and small patches of bright grass outside of it, coupled with the neatly polished glass windows of the house gives it a sort of homey warmth; a sense that the home is well lived in, though managed nicely.

Clover moves to the front of the carriage for a moment as she and the driver exchange a few words, but their comments are far too low for Preston to hear. Instead, the man just stands near the door; his stance is a little shifty, especially as he looks over the woman he is expected to live. Nyota, though convincing, gave no timeframe, and the little Preston knows of the woman has done nothing to help quell his thoughts as to how long he will truly be staying with her. Worst still, his brief sleep in the carriage yielded no time to truly come to terms with his current predicament, something that weighs heavy to his mind now as he awkwardly awaits Clover’s approach.

However, as Clover takes a small bag from the front of the carriage she brings her trot towards the dull red door of the house. To Preston’s surprise though, she does not pull out a key, instead opting to simply open the door as if it were unlocked. Trotting inside, she speaks up. Reynard, I am back.

The woman’s words slowly draw Preston forward as he follows in behind, all the while attempting to figure out the name. However, as he passes through the door his nose is hit with a powerful smell, though one that he quickly places. The entire right side of the house is a library of tall bookshelves, with a small staircase at the back of the room leading up to a little loft area. Surprisingly fitted with a simple made couch. Though, the sight of the books finally makes the wood sign outside click in Preston’s head as he stares to the fair sized library before him. Even still, he closes the door behind him as he stares medieval setup of the house.

However, the man’s attention is taken as the sound of claws taping to the other wood staircase in front of the door comes to his ears. Clover!

Preston’s eyes widen as he stares to a short, light orangey-red coated, white striped fox that strolls down the stairs on just his back two legs. A smile running across his muzzle, flashing his canine like teeth with ease.

Tensing up a little, Preston lingers at the door, unsure of the creature before him. Clover however speaks up, sharing in the same enthusiasm that the fox-boy still holds. Reynard, it is good to see you. The two share a quick embrace, though Preston quickly takes the attention of the fox-boy as he peers around Clover.

Reynard blinks his bright, brown eyes to the man as he cocks his head, his slightly boyish voice rolling out of his mouth as he steps away from the satyress. Who is that?

Glancing back to Preston, Clover straightens up, a bit of uneasiness coming over her as holds a hand towards the man. Right… this is Preston, he is a friend of Master Nyota. Clover flashes a smile. He will be staying with us, at least for a time.

Reynard squints to Preston as he takes a step forward.

The sight of fox-boy coming closer however prompts Preston to take a step back as he attempts a simple smile.

However, Reynard meets his smile with his own as the boyish tone of the fox comes out. Why are you so tall?

The question, coupled with the innocent look in Reynard’s face slowly begins to break away Preston’s original anxiety as he nods. Yea, I uh, I don’t know. He gives a faint chuckle as he glances to Clover.

Reynard simply taps small paw like hand to his mouth as he replies. How long is it staying?

Um, until Master Nyota can help him. Clover gives a simple laugh as she adjusts the satchel around her. It should not be long.

Reynard gives a nod to the words as he straights and gives a faint bow to Preston. Very well, hello, Preston, I am happy to meet you.

Preston attempts to follow the bow, though a nagging question begins to come out as he raises with a laugh. How can you talk?

The comment prompts Reynard to cock his head, though he tightens his gaze as he speaks up. What do you mean?

Preston hesitates for a moment, though he stays to his question as he shrugs. How can a dog talk?

His words quickly point Reynard’s ears up as the young, boyish voice spikes up. Dog?!

The quick response turns Preston’s tone as he shakes his head, I-I mean-…

Before Preston can attempt to save the comment, Clover speaks up. Reynard I am sure Preston meant-…

No, no. Reynard’s fuzzy cheeks puff a little as the fox-boy shakes his head in a bit of anger. "I am tired of these Dẃoff thinking I am an animal, Clover. His child-like whine continues as his voice rolls out. I am a fróx, got it, a fróx. He points his right paw-hand towards Preston as he continues. I am not some hunting animal or beast of the forest! I have been a fróx since the day I hatched, and you Dẃoff need to understand that."

Preston squints to the comment. You hatched from an egg? What kinda fox are you?

Reynard’s eyes widen as he glances to Clover. This is a friend of Master Nyota?

Recent friend… Clover gives a skittish shrug. "But Reynard, Preston is not a Dẃoff. He is a um… a human."

The fox-boy just blinks to the word as he tries to repeat the word. A what?

Clover bites at her lip a little as she chooses her next words carefully. We can talk about it a little later, a lot has happened. Her eyes come to her cloak as she talks. But right now, I would rather get out of this cloak and get clean.

Reynard gives a low sigh though he nods to the woman’s words. Alright, but I want to know what happened. He turns more towards the woman as he trails on. You said it was nothing dangerous.

Clover nods. A-and it was not. Why even Preston accompanied us. Master Nyota would never let a stranger participate in something dangerous, you know this.

Reynard turns an eye to the man though Clover gives his a simple nod that prompts Preston to speak up. Yea, it was… it was easy.

The words seem to do little for the fox-boy though he nods all the same. Fine, but I want to hear what happen Clover.

And I will tell you. Clover waves to the man. Preston can you follow me?

Yea. Preston gives a simple nod as he moves forward, his hands dipping into his pocket as he moves pass the simple wood table on his left. Reynard continue to follow the man with his eyes, though as the duo start up the stairs the fox-boy turns his attention to the room on his left.

With a glance to ensure Reynard’s piercing gaze has left his back, Preston speaks up. Hey, sorry about that, I just… I wasn’t expecting to see someone like-…

Clover pauses at the stairs as she nods. It is alright. I should have said more before we arrived, though you looked like you needed your rest. And…and I know a lot has happened to you. She nods. Though be nice to Reynard, and if he ask about what happened, tell him it was nothing dangerous. He is my assistant just as I am to Master Nyota but… he does not need to know everything.

Preston turns back to the fox tail that just now rounds the half wall to the left side of the room, though even without the sight of the fox in Preston’s gaze he speaks up, You mean it can do magic?

"No, he, cannot."

Sorry. Preston nods, his eyes falling to the wall on his right.

Clover however does not linger her stare as she rolls her hand, her tone dipping as she explains further. When I first studied with Master Nyota we found his egg abandoned. She turns an eye to the stairs behind her, though she does not stop her comment. "It was my first-time doing research back when I was in the Oválll. I was still too young to understand the balance of magic when I took the egg. Master Nyota said that a fróx is a copier creature, so when Reynard imprinted on my family, I could not take him back."

Her trot has brought her to the top of the stairs as she finishes her comment. Reynard is still too young to live by himself, and he is like a brother to me. So do not make him upset, or I will know. At the end of her comment she turns back to the man, despite her relatively small stature in comparison to him, the look draws a swift reply from Preston.

Right, I understand.

Good. Clover turns her gaze, drawing a slight sigh from Preston, yet Clover says nothing to it as she holds her hand to the right. This is the guest room, and it shall be yours until Master Nyota says otherwise. Our room is just down the hall. She turns around as she gestured to the single door on the left. This is the bathroom, if you wish to get clean.

Preston turns his eyes to the closed door as Clover continues. If you do decide to get clean, please do not use all the hot water.

Hot water? A slight laugh comes from Preston as he speaks up. You’ve got hot water here?

Clover blinks to the laugh as she cocks her head. Well yes… do-do you not have hot water where you are from?

What? No, of course we do. Preston shakes his head. But uh… how do you have it?

Clover looks the man over a little confused though she answers all the same. "The faucet is enchanted to teleport water from one of the Flóff’s holding clouds, they sit just above the city. I suggested warm water because it feels better, if you prefer cooler water you can-…"

Another laugh rolls from Preston as he nods his head, cutting off the slightly lengthier comment. I just though the seats over the holes you call toilets was the epitome of your technology. His smile fades as he squints to the woman in front of him. By the way, how do you guys keep those things clean?

Before Clover can speak up Preston holds his hands out. Wait, let me guess, magic right?

Clover’s right ear flicks a little to the jokey tone as she looks the man’s face over for a moment. However, she holds her comments about his sudden change in personality as she instead just cocks a slight smirk. You seem to have a lot of questions, you will not be needing Reynard to show you how to bathe, will you?

Preston smirks. Sarcasm, that’s… that’s actually kinda funny.

To the words Clover turns back towards the hall behind her. Happy to amuse. Now if you will excuse me, I would like to rid myself of this cloak. She pauses at the frame of her door as she glances back to Preston. You will be fine, yes?

Yea.

Good. With a simple nod Clover passes into her room, though Preston catches the end of her forced friendliness coming to an end just as she passes from his sight. It was subtle, though the quick drop in her smile was enough to give it away. Even still, Preston holds his eyes to where the woman went before turning to the bathroom and opening it.

The walls are made of the same wood as the rest of the house, only a little darker, most likely from the heat of the bath. The floor however, is made of flat grey stone, that looks to be a little more carved in towards the decent sized brass tub on the right side of the room.

Preston moves a little more into the room as he closes the door behind him with a sigh. The lock for the door is a simple chain lock that he has only really seen used in old apartment buildings or hotels.

With the door now appropriately locked he kicks his shoes off and then quickly pulls the now sweaty grey socks from his feet. The stone floor feels a little rougher than he would have thought, but he does not hold his mind to it as he instead moves towards the small wood made shelf of the room. An oval polished mirror sits to the center of the wall, a stack of a few fluffy white towels to the right. To the left there is a small wood and metal box, but he does not move his hand to it as he instead just stares to his reflection.

His blond hair is ragged and his eyes have a slight baggy look to them, though he merely sighs as he turns to the simple steel colored facets of the empty rub behind him.

CHAPTER 2

Dining In

The day has rolled on at a surprising pace; at least, as far as Preston knows. Although, his thoughts about how fast a day should go by may no longer be relevant, seeing as how the days are at the whim of a single person.

Thoughts like these have begun to fester in the man’s head since he retreated to the room Clover said was his. The room is fair, the same light brown wood walls that almost match the barely darker wood of the floor. Although, the room’s furnishings are simple, with only a decent sized dresser, a chest full of meaningless papers and scrolls and the bed Preston lays on. To the right of the bed sits the window, with simple white shades he has parted to see the almost cloudless sky.

Despite how magnificent the bluebird sky and fresh smell of the world is, a heavy thought weighs to the man’s mind. With little to do in the room, Preston’s mind has teetered in and out of his depression. One half of him wishing to dwell on both Matt and Damien, while the other half attempts to push the thoughts out, stuffing them deep into the back of his mind. The teetered has led to one main feeling however, the desire to mindlessly pass the day, with TV or some other distraction. While not necessarily a bad thought, the main reason behind it still stands, Preston wants a quick escape, something to ignore those he lost and the world around him. He does not want acceptance, nor does he crave some comfort for his sadness, instead, he focuses his mind to anything, anything that would keep his mind a blank slate. A way to break out of the endless loop of thoughts that have plagued the man’s mind since he got out of the warm bath.

Preston’s silent prayer seems to be answered as the sound of someone knocking to his closed door rings to the house.

Preston?

The man turns his eyes to the simple door as he speaks up, clearing his voice before he answers. Y-yea?

The door remains silent for a moment as Preston stares to it, though after a moment Clover’s voice breaks through it again. Are you well?

A slight laugh comes back to the man as he adjusts his head to the cotton made pillows he lays against, his eyes turning to the ceiling above him. Yea.

The word prompts the door to open as the tan skinned satyress comes in. The earthy cloak Preston has seen her in for the last few days has been replaced with a forest green dress, that flares up a little at the bottom, parting down the center to reveal a sandy colored tunic around her chest. The more form fitting and ladylike clothing has altered the women’s appearance a little, though her mane remains unbrushed. Almost as if she were in a rush, or that she simply does not care about her appearance. Which is strange as her hair shows the obvious signs of being recently washed.

Despite her appearance of a carefree attitude, her straightforward, and almost know-it-all tone still chimes out, especially as she looks the man over. Why are you simply laying up here?

Preston slowly sits up in the bed a little more as he shrugs. Well, what else should I do. I’m waiting on the old man, right?

Clover nods to the comment as she shifts a little, though her left hand stays to the knob of the door. Well yes. She nods. But it would be best for you not to dwell alone. Perhaps you would enjoy talking with someone?

A slight laugh rolls from Preston as he moves to the edge of the bed. I uh, I appreciate the offer, but that’s not necessary Happy-Hooves.

Clover crosses her arms as she replies. You have a very negative aura Preston, and it is starting to bother me.

Aura? Preston blinks to the words as he speaks up, a faint scoff in his voice. I’ve left you alone since we got here, how am I bother you?

Clover nods as she takes a step forward. As I said, your aura. At her words she sparks up a light blue glow to her hands, a ball of magic forming as she passes it towards the man. The sight of the quick spell is a bit strange, and Preston does tense up a little, though Clover holds it at a fair distance as a green glow is pulled from where he lingers on the bed. See.

The tingling sensation of the magic now pulling to him brings an uneasiness to the man as he stands up from the bed. Alright, alright I get it. He sighs. So what now? You got some healing crystals or yoga?

Clover squints to the comment as she ends her simple spell. We can talk.

Preston shrugs as he rubs his hands to his arms, his hair standing on end from the simple magic of earlier. Talk huh? He eyes the woman as he nods. Alright, question, why do you keep talking like that?

Like what?

Like you’re forcing yourself? He shrugs again. It’s weird, like your faking it.

I am speaking in New Tongue. Clover slowly eases up as she thinks over the comment. It… it is a bit strange to me still, but I am not saying anything incorrectly.

Alright. Preston takes in a deep breath. Say something in the uh old tongue or whatever.

Clover nods, though her tone remains rather skeptical, despite her own insisting to the conversation. "Lóftor Vestá."

A little smirk comes to Preston’s face as he nods. And what does that mean?

Clover brings her hands up as they take on a light blue glow, which pulls to the man’s shirt until he stands up again. It is a state of being, someone who avoids conversation or events, it also means something similar to sadness of the mind.

The glow to Preston’s shirt comes down as he nods. Alright, so old tongue is just a bunch of phrases?

Each tribe had their own way of communicating. Clover cocks her head a bit. The Únoff way of speaking focused more on spells and writing, words were cumbersome, poorly conveyed one’s true feelings.

Preston nods. Right, so talking is a bit new? When did it start?

We never lacked speak, Preston. Clover takes a breath. "But if you mean to ask when did New Tongue start, your answer would be that the devún shared it. She turns tail as she moves into the hall. Now, it is your turn to tell me a little about your language. She beckons the man forward. Come."

Preston follows the woman into the hall and then down the stairs as he nods. Okay… not like I can tell you much. A slight laugh comes to him as he continues. My language is just a bunch of things thrown together. Best I can say is that it developed over thousands of years.

Thousands? Clover’s ear flicks to the word as she pauses on the stairs.

Yea. Preston squints to the expression on Clover’s face. What you don’t believe that?

The bottom of the stairs comes fast as Clover moves to the side of them. It is just surprises me that your language has been around for so long, yet you speak with little care.

Preston squints to the comment. Little care, what’s that even mean?

Clover waves her hand to the man. That, you put words together, why?

I don’t know. Preston chuckles. It’s faster?

Faster? Clover shakes her head. It sounds more-…

Lazy. Clover’s comment is brought to an end as a boyish voice from behind Preston chimes in, finishing her thought.

Preston turns to the fox-boy, who carries a book almost as big as himself as he struggles to come down the stairs. Though he holds his comment at bay as he moves from the fox-boy’s path.

Clover however nods. I would have to agree, what would be the point of it? It shows a lack of respect for your words.

Preston just gives a simple laugh, his interest to the conversation waning as he crosses his arms. I don’t know, it’s just an easier way to say stuff.

Reynard moves to the simple wood table as he places the book to it. "Hmpf, even the explanation is lazy."

You can’t just expect someone to explain a language in second, yea? Preston shakes his head. Or did you dragged me out of the room to rag on me?

His words bring a confused stare from Clover and Reynard as they simple share a glance to one another. But Clover quickly pushes it aside as she trots towards the table. There is no rag, Preston? Clover takes a breath as she continues. I simply asked you down here so that you could feel a little better about this arrangement. Master Nyota wished for me to look after you, and I think it would be best for you to get to know us, before we eat.

The word takes Preston’s attention as he looks to one of the large windows of the house. Ear? How late is it?

Clover nods to the comment as she stands near the table. It will be dark soon enough, and I am too tired to create any light. She gestures to the table as she trails on. I would also not want to blow the candles out after dinner.

With a slight pause she sits down, Reynard following the action as Clover continues. So… shall we talk?

Preston looks over the seat between the two pseudo-people as he slowly moves to take it. Though, the awkwardness of having Clover and Reynard starting at him draws a faint comment from Preston as he attempts to laugh off the situation. Alright. He cups his hands as he fidgets a little. What are we talking about, huh? The fact that you guys have hot water but no light bulbs?

The satyress squints to the comment as she speaks up. Light bulbs?

Yea. Preston balls his fist up as he wiggles a finger beneath it. It’s like a ball that has light in it from like chemicals and stuff.

Clover blinks to the comment as she slowly nods her head. "So, like a Kélf or Helió stone?"

Preston just laughs as he rubs the back of his neck. Well yea, but I doubt that glove thing could light a room.

"Well no, but many Únoff already use Helió stones for light. Clover shrugs. They are just tedious to charge so often."

Preston just nods to the comment, most just to further the conversation he has quickly found himself lost in. His eyes too leave Clover as they focus onto the fairly large leather covered book in front of him. Right, so what’s this thing.

Reynard speaks up, his lean over the table taking Preston’s attention as he looks over the rather cat-like stretch Reynard holds. This is a book.

Never would have guessed that. Preston rolls his eyes as he nods to the talking fox just a little beside him. The unamused attitude holds as Preston continues. What’s it about?

This is a written record for Artésque.

A light chuckle rolls from Preston as he crosses his arms and turns away from the formidable looking tomb. You want me to read it?

The tone in the man’s voice draws a shrug from Clover as she replies. You can, reading is something to help pass your time here. She holds a smile as she turns back to the fox in the chair. You can start while I get dinner ready, it will give us something to discuss.

The words quickly bring Reynard from the seat as he speaks up. Wait Clover, let me help, you burn everything. His comment does little to pause Clover as she dips into the half wall next to the room, though Preston listens in on their quick exchanges as a faint smile crosses his face.

However, as their voices quiet down Preston turns his attention back to the book on the table. A sigh escaping him as he pats his hands to the table. Alright, reading… With another blow of his breath he brings his hand to the cover of the book as he opens it and begins to scan through some of the words.

Artésque and the history of the transition, by Artéxte.

Preston squints to the neatly written words as he continues.

The world is but a stone, to craft and mold to your liking. - Únoff Codx.

In the land of old, now formally known as Oválll, the land was rich beyond any one tribe’s needs, from the mountains capped with Orď to fields of perfectly cultivated grains that colored the world. Though the land was fertile and abundant for all, only the seeds of discontent grew firm within The Three, swiftly bring about the first great Whaá of The Three. From the first drop of blood in this hideous display of ignorance to the Great Arcx-oTik’s words hatred grew, one that began to consume the lavish and plentiful land, until nothing but dry soil and waterless skies were left. It is from this profligate, and detached way of life that a lesson emerged. The lesson that only together can The Three survive, and carry with them hope for a better future, a future devoid of the hardship that ripped apart the old land. Though many argue the ways of old, the following text aims to apprise those beliefs, in the hopes that brighter minds emerge to lead this forward…

Preston shifts his eyes from the lengthy page as he flips through the book for a moment, not fully understanding how their can be so much. However, he moves his hands back to the page he held as he sighs and continues.

- - -

(Near An Hour Later)

The book sitting in front of Preston sits only a few pages in, despite the amount of quiet reading time Preston has been left with. Of course, this fact matters little to the man as he merely flips through the pages, looking instead at the simple illustrations throughout it. While the idea of learning something new about the world Preston has found himself in was fairly interesting in the beginning, the idea of simply sitting down and reading something quickly dashed most of Preston’s excitement.

However, the sound of hooves approaching from the other room springs Preston into action as he lifts the book from the table and towards the woman who now rounds the corner. Attempting to not appear ungrateful as he speaks up. So yea, it’s a good book, just uh, just a bit long.

Clover’s hands glow a faint blue as she comes into the room with two covered bowls and a few cups of water floating behind. Oh good, then you have something to finish when we get back.

The comment takes Preston’s attention as he speaks up. Get back?

Yes. The magically controlled bowls come to the table as Clover continues. I have a friend who makes clothing, and seeing as how you are here until Master Nyota can help, it does not make any sense for you to get clean only to wear the same few items.

The words lower Preston’s head as he clears his throat a little awkwardly. He shifts his hands to the table as he speaks up. I-I have nothing to pay with.

Clover cocks her head. I did not think you did.

Preston gives another weak nod as he replies, despite the woman’s laugh. How do I pay you back?

The woman shrugs to the words as she stops her trot back into the kitchen. I did not know I asked you to? Now, do you want any meat? Reynard suggested I ask you, do you eat meat?

I do but uh… Preston nods. But, I’m fine.

Are you sure? Clover shrugs. It would not be a problem?

Again Preston shakes his head. No, whatever you have is fine.

Very well. Clover turns back into the room and out of sight as Preston settles more to the seat he resides in. Though he merely twiddles his thumbs as he glances away from the book and instead to the window on his side; the sun that has moved a considerable amount since he came back down stairs, yielding an orange sky as it dips below the horizon.

However, his quiet stare is brought to an end as the sound of Clover and Reynard returning to the room takes his attention.

The fox-boy is quick to come over to the table as he places his plate of cooked meats to the table in front of his seat.

The smell of the meat draws Preston’s eye, though it is nothing like cow or pig; the color too is a bit different, more of a darker tone than anything that comes to mind. The look of the meat itself seems similar to that of chicken, but the smell is simply too sweet. Almost as if some sort of sauce has been splashed over it, despite no real evidence of it.

Clover’s magic set two more plates to the table, although the food to them is instantly recognized as various fruits and vegetables mixed in with an almost salad like creation.

A plate floats in front of Preston, followed by a silver colored fork and knife. The plate has a few strips of the sweet smelling meat, some cut up apples and three strange yellowish-green colored leaves to it. Hardly anything Preston would consider a meat, though plenty more plates come to the table as Preston notices.

Clover’s magic continues to manipulate the table as the two covered bowls are moved to reveal two different colored rolls of bread. Some of which seemed to be burnt.

However, Preston is slow to move his hands as he looks to the other two would-be people at the table. Reynard capitalizes on the man’s motionless stare as he speaks up, a strip of meat slightly hanging from his mouth despite the use of a fork to his pawed hand. "Are you going to try your Borétef?"

Um yea… Preston nods as he takes his hands to the silverware in from of him. Just look over the meal, t-thank you, both. He jabs his fork into a smaller strip of meat as he slowly brings it to his mouth. The taste is much different than cow or chicken, and the sweet flavoring could almost pass as a light bourbon sauce but without the sauce. However, while it tastes fair initially, a gamey flavor begins to emerge as Preston continues to chew. Not bad, though a bit strange when compared to the texture.

Although, he finds himself already mindlessly putting his fork back to another strip of meat as he continues to try and place the taste.

The fox-boy across the table cocks a slight smile as he turns to Clover. Told you it would like it.

He. Clover gives a faint nod as she merely glances to the man before keeping her attention to her own plate.

Preston swallows the overly chewed meat in his mouth as he tries to chime into the conversation around him. So, I feel a little weird with this… and I don’t know how long I’ll be here so how’s about I help out? I can cook pretty well, so how’s about I do that to pay you back?

Clover’s ear flicks to the comment as she shakes her head. You are here as a guest for Master Nyota, you do not have to-…

Look I just don’t like feeling like a burden. He rolls his hand. So I’d like to do it, and it will be fun, I can make pancakes or something in the morning.

His words swiftly take the young fróx’s attention as his ears perk up. Whoa, cakes at dawn?

No. Clover shakes her head as she looks to the man. We are not going to eat a cake for breakfast.

A slight chuckle rolls from Preston as he shakes his head. No, it’s not really a cake-cake. But trust me, it’s good. But um, I can make something different, I just, I don’t want to mooch, you know?

Neither Reynard nor Clover speak up to the comment, though the fox-boy does eventually roll his fork towards Preston as he speaks up between eating. Eggs sound better.

You sure you don’t want the whole hen? Preston gives another little laugh to his joke as he waits for the fox across the table to pick up on it.

He does not, and Reynard replies with a squinted gaze as he stares at the man. What is a hen?

Preston clears his throat as he shakes his head. No, no, it’s just a saying, you know like, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.

The words prompt Clover to look at the man, her gaze quickly prompt another uneasy laugh from Preston as he shrugs. Just a dumb saying, meaning your hungry.

Y-yes. Clover gives a simple nod as she clears her throat, her eyes falling to Reynard. We should not judge Preston for his comments, I am sure we say plenty of things that confuse him.

I guess. Reynard turns his eyes as he continues. Where did you say he was from again, Clover?

Clover is quick with an answer. "The Fárwift."

Preston nods the words as he gestures to Reynard. Yea, full of weird phrases.

Right. Clover gives a little smile as she nods. "Besides, we cannot wait around all déy. Perhaps another time you can show us a pancake?"

Preston squints to the comment as he stabs his fork into the food on his plate. Yea, but see it’s not a cake… um. He clears his throat, his attention shifting back to the plate before him. This is good by the way.

Clover nods. Thank you.

Yea. Another friendly smile comes Preston, though he finds it hard to hold as he settles into the meal, his head and indeed his body close to the table as he awkwardly continues to eat.

CHAPTER 3

Towning

The morning air is cool, even inside the wood house and under the cotton woven blankets of the bed. However, the world outside stays irrelevant to Preston as his slumber continues. Sleep itself was not something easy to come by last night; while the dinner was filling and both Clover and Reynard were fair company, when Preston finally retired to his room the weight of the last few days finally sank in. No phone, no TV, nothing to help bury Preston’s thoughts of the reality around. Instead, the man was left to his little room of Hell as thought over how things could have gone differently spun within him; mistakes and mishaps he could have avoided, nay should have avoided in the previous days. Though, sleep did finally come, at the expense of most of the night as Preston found himself tossing and turning until his fatigue got the better of him.

Of course, the few good hours of rest have abruptly come to an end, as the sound of knocking rings in from the closed door.

The noise draws Preston’s head up as he rubs his eyes, his voice still groggy from his sleep. Y-yea?

Are you still sleeping?

Preston squints to the words as he turns his head to the window. The sun has just barely begun to poking up over the simple two story buildings across the street. This early morning scene quickly brings a response from the man as he rolls from the bed. No, no, I’m up. He brings his hands to his face as he just rubs his knuckles to his closed and sleepless eyes with a groan. Guess you never heard of sleeping in, huh?

The joke yields no reply from door as Preston merely nods to himself. Yea, that was stupid. He raises his voice as he calls back to the door. I’ll be out in a minute.

Very well. At comment the sound of hooves clapping against the wood floor of the hallway greets Preston’s ears, something he is surprised did not wake him up earlier.

With the woman now away from the door Preston turns his attention to the clothing he laid out on the nearby dresser. The clothes naturally stink from the last couple of days, though Preston slips them back on, sweat stains and all. He plops back to the bed as he moves to get his shoes on. The feeling of his dirty socks once more gracing his feet send a slight shiver up the man’s spin. Preston may not be a neat freak, though he is far from a slob, and something about old socks just rubs the man the wrong way.

It takes merely a minute or two for Preston to get ready, and as he does he moves to the door, and steps into the hallway.

At the top of the stairs stands Clover, ready to go for the day with a somewhat sickening amount of energy for the early morning hours. You slept through breakfast. Reynard tried to wake you but you never replied.

Preston slowly closed the door behind him as he just nods. Oh, I uh… I guess I didn’t hear him. He cocks a slight smile as he shrugs. I take it he doesn’t like me very much, yea?

Clover shrugs a little to the comment. I spoke with him last night, he understands why you are with us.

Right. Preston clears his throat. Hey by the way I was serious about paying you back. I mean, yea I slept in today, but I am serious, I’d like to help.

It is not an issue, Preston. Clover nods.

I get that. Preston claps his hands together. But I pay off my debts, and I figure I should at least try not piss you or Rey off, seeing as how you’re nice enough to put up with me for Gandalf.

Nyota. Her correction rolls from her mouth with ease, the know-it-all nature of Clover hardly even breaking for a moment as she continues. "But do not feel guilty. I am a student of the Márjx. Master Nyota has given me a task, and I am provided for by the Únoff crown as his assistant. She cocks a slight smile. I would prefer it if we kept our friendship at that level; there is no need for you to repay me. But, if you insist, I am sure we can find something for you to do."

A slight chuckle comes from Preston as sighs. Got it, I’m a glorified Science fair project, but I still don’t like people doing stuff for me. He rubs his hands together. So what do you need? Want me to dust off the library or fluff the bed or something?

Clover blinks to the man as she replies. "My comment is not meant for déstrot."

"No, nope, no, no dis-trot or whenever here, I understood what you meant. Preston claps his hands together. So what