THE ART OF HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT

 

Vallorand woke at dawn, as always. He put on his daily outfit: brown trousers and a simple white cotton shirt, both darkened from age and use. Making his way through the small home he shared with his father, Vallorand found the old man seated in a simple wooden chair on the front porch. It was his regular morning seat, watching the sun crest the Tonik Pool to the east.

"Good morning Vallor," his father said in a deep, humble voice, slick with an Eastern accent. All of his O's were stronger and held a bit longer. Vallorand's father, Endel Davnar, was an immigrant to the western Vesper Lands, initially brought up in the bustling cities of the eastern country of Imperianum and then handed over to war. Together, Imperianum in the east, Vasaak in the west, made up nearly the entirety of Antiquoria. The Unclaimed Basin sat in the middle and Kolmuund, the icy region in the north spanned across both countries. His father had seen much and sought a calmer region after he had left the military and fathered a child.

Vallorand took a moment to sit beside his father in a second wooden chair, a low wooden table between them. Two glasses of water and some fruit and salmon slices sat on top. Vallorand smiled at the presentation. His father practiced this ritual every morning, awaiting him. 

"Good morning, Father. It's a beautiful one today, isn't it? We've been blessed yet again." Vallorand looked out toward the Tonik Pool as the light danced along the surface, the water extending so far to the eye that it looked like it may end at the world's edge. The same could be said about the Pool to the right and left as it hugged the earth from north to south.

"Yes, I suppose we are blessed indeed, Elamius wills it." Endel paused momentarily in meditation and brought his war-weathered hands to his face. 

 

He’s getting old, Vallorand thought.

 

His dark black hair was now heavily streaked with white; his emerald green eyes were surrounded by furrowed lines and shadows. His face was hardened, yet his warm personality cracked it every day. For a man who'd seen so much pain, he'd remained strong in both body and mind. Enough so he'd found a way to make a simple life for himself and his young son. A young son who was now four and twenty. Past his prime to be pulled into senseless battles or traveling adventures and almost past his prime to find a wife. 

 

There’s no time for any of it, Vallorand thought. He felt himself harden. 

 

Vallorand had dreamed of exploring the world. He wanted to see it all. He wanted to sail the seas and travel the mist-covered forests. He wanted to marry—Sera specifically. She ran a food stall near his and was both beautiful and kind. Vallorand had dreamt of taking her to dinner, laughing with her…kissing her. Yet, none of it seemed plausible. 

"Elamius wills it, and we cherish it," Vallorand said, refocusing. He exchanged a respectful nod with his father and looked out over the still water once more. 

 

"Where are you off to this time? Pool, river, or sea?"

 

"I'm thinking today I'll split my time between the river and the pool before I make my way to market," Vallorand said. 

With a small sigh, Endel smiled. "As always, you love to push yourself. You remind me more and more of myself every day. Well, if that's the plan, you should get going. Only a few hours before you need to be at the stall."

Vallorand jumped up. "Ah, you're right. I'll be going then," he said as he approached his father, and they clasped forearms. “Jumalad õnnistavad sind,” he said in the Vespertongue. 

"Ut benedicat tibi deos," said Endel in his native Deorumin. This is the way it was every morning. The coming together of separate tongues, urban and rural, father and son, a mutual hope for one another. 

 

May the Gods bless you.

 

With that, Vallorand walked off and picked up a covered metal bucket. With a final wave to his father on their simple wooden porch, he rounded the back of the house to make his way west. Their tiny home was situated in one of the most ecologically diverse areas in Vasaak and likely all of Antiquoria. The Vesper Lands comprised two thick vertical slices of land and a large chunk of the mainland. 

The westernmost strip of land, a thin island, was bordered on its west side by the Palav Sea and the Kala River on the east. The second strip of land, a peninsula, was as long as the island, but twice as thick, and between the Kala River and the vast Tonik Pool. This was the Sandy Bridge. It was where Vallorand had settled down with his father when he was only one year of age. It was sparsely populated and mainly inhabited by fishermen. Most of the populace of the Vesper Lands, local citizens and travelers alike would be found beyond the eastern bank of the Tonik Pool in the modestly sized town of Kalamara and Haventus, the ruling city of the region just over the Pointbacks. The Vesper Lands made up half of Vasaak’s southern regions, with the Neurus Lands to the east, overseen by the Pärn family.

As Vallorand reached the back of the home, he immediately tapped his kirring and started running. A Lithegar, by way of his father, he would need to make sure no one saw him accessing his Blessing. Lithegars were almost immediately conscripted and shipped off to fight in some senseless war or serve as glorified messengers for self-important men. They were plucked from civilian life as quickly as they entered. While the inhabitants of the region largely kept to themselves and would likely never out Vallorand to anyone important, it was crucial he kept it to himself. As it was, Vallorand found much more use for his gift making trips to the sea to catch and prepare fish and did not use it in a public space.

 

Vallorand dashed along the ground, only a few trees here or there to avoid. 

 

Freedom. Out here, he was an adventurer. He was an explorer finding treasures and saving people from… high branches, he thought, looking up at the treetops and imagining murk creatures looming above.

He was across the Sandy Bridge in under a few minutes. There were few storms out here, as the peaks of the Pointbacks provided a natural barrier from westward disturbances. 

A mile behind him, Vallorand slowed as he reached the Kala River. The river was more of a strait as it broke the western strip of land off into an island. Crouched, he scanned for larger fish he could sell at the market. He bit his lip as he tracked a kuld, its movements quick. Like a viper, he tapped his kirring and snatched it out of the water. Three kulds and two hobs later he packed up the fish into a pack on his back. 

 

A good haul.

 

Turning back, Vallorand tapped his kirring once more and sprinted home. Minutes later, he was at the front porch again, where his father sat. Endel smiled and Vallorand instantly returned it. 

"Bit slow today boy, eh? Bet you in my prime, I could have done that in half the time."

"I'm sure you could have, Father," Vallorand responded with the slightest chuckle. "Alright, I'm taking the boat to Kalamara to set up the stall for the day. Do you need anything from the market before I return this evening?"

"Hmm...I think we are out of milk. Mind grabbing a bottle from Sera's stall?" Endel flashed a smile and waved as Vallorand pushed the boat out into the water. 

Vallorand smirked. The man may be weaker than he used to be, but Vallorand was sure the Gods had allowed him to shift his kirring into his wit. Vallorand and Sera had been running neighboring stalls for a few years, and she was only a few years his junior. She was incredibly pretty, and many men were vying for her attention. She seemed almost exclusively interested in Vallorand, and he’d pined over her for years, but he was so focused on providing for his father and running the stall he’d never acted. He knew of a way he could manipulate her and guarantee her hand, but…no he wasn’t that kind of person.

"Sure, Father, I'll pick it up."

With morning ticking away, Vallorand jumped into the boat and picked up a paddle. Moments later he was gliding across the water’s glossy surface beneath the morning sun on the horizon. The Tonik Pool was a beautiful lake, twenty feet at its deepest point in its southern half. It was replenished by underwater channels from the Kala and mountain streams, giving it both warm and cold spots as you swam. It mainly sat still, a sizable shimmering puddle in the Vesper Lands. He'd grown up in the Pool, playing with other children and learning to catch fish under the watchful eye of his father when others couldn't see. The pair's Blessings had made them the most profitable fish stall. It would stay that way as long as the competition didn't realize he wasn't using a rod. 

The next half hour was long as Vallorand crossed the still Pool. He momentarily stopped midway and caught a few more fish. Here, the prizes were a bit smaller than what lived in the Kala, but no one would scoff at a good morlop.

Five fish later and a good amount of rowing, Vallorand docked his small boat at the Kalamara docks. The bustling town stretched along the water for half a mile and extended another half a mile inland. Buildings were low-lying except for a few essential buildings: two buildings of worship—one for the Order of the Ten and one for just Valmandus, the God above all others and father of the Ten— the main town hall, and the tower market, which housed the textile shops. His family's stall was just one street from the water near the other food markets. 

Vallorand made his way through a small grouping of women in colorful garb pointing out over the Pool. 

Tourists…from Haventus, most likely, he thought as he rolled his eyes. The blues and greens in their draping shawls were a common choice by women in the neighboring city just over the Pointbacks. As he walked by, he felt the eyes of one of the women track him as he moved away. Tourists weren’t allowed to visit the western shore across the lake but often watched the small boats come in. Even with his long history of being watched by people visiting on vacation, Vallorand felt a small rush of uncomfortableness from their stares.

Vallorand shook it off and pressed on, quickly reaching his stall. Sera Doxin, in the middle of a sale, caught sight of him and waved with her daily smile. 

As beautiful as ever, he thought. Her silky brown hair hung in the perfect places and her dimples flashed with every smile.

Forgetting he had a bucket in his hand, Vallorand went to return the wave, fish falling to the floor. He could feel heat in his cheeks as he bent over to retrieve them, embarrassment filling him up. 

Graceful. 

Collecting himself, he refocused on his tasks. What was he thinking? He had no time to flirt. He had a job to do.

The stall was set up ten minutes later, and Vallorand began cleaning the new fish that morning. Like clockwork, a few of his regulars began making their way over and left with salted salmon, homemade seasoning mixes, and ice. 

After some time, and many sales, the sun sat directly overhead, and Vallorand took a break. He covered up his wares and wandered around a bit. Passing the stalls, he made his way deeper into the town and ended up in front of a trinket shop near the town hall. Lyran Tobe popped up from behind the stall, his arms full of necklaces that just so happened to fall onto the table in a way they shone in the midday sun. 

"Whoops! So sorry,” Lyran said as he half pushed some of the items forward. “These shouldn't even be out...Oh! Hello Vallor! Gods blessed us with a good one today!"

Vallorand smirked. "Yes, definitely a good one. How many Haventus women did you get to buy your Tonik jewelry today, Lyran?" 

“Oh, you know me,” he said with a smirk. “You know they all stop by here at least once.” He tapped his knuckles lightly on a necklace.

Vallorand wasn't the type to get involved in dishonest sales, even if there was a way he could influence it. His prices were fair and balanced, and his homemade spices sold at cost. His life with his father instilled an overwhelming need to live modestly. He admired Lyran's aptitude for turning a sale. 

His devilish looks helped his cause as well. At ten and nine, he was tall with wide-set shoulders, blue eyes, and auburn hair. Many women, and some men, approached his stall just to speak with him as they came to make a purchase. Lyran drank all the interactions the same, whether he was filling his pockets or his ego. 

Vallorand often found himself jealous of Lyran. He was always on the move, and had traversed most of the southern regions of Vasaak. Vallorand, on the other hand, while happy taking care of his father, had resigned to the fact that his life would always be near the Tonik Pool and nowhere else. His father never actively encouraged him to leave and Vallorand wanted more than anything to care for him in his twilight years.

“When did you get these?” Vallorand asked.

“Ah,” Lyran said, scratching his head and looking them over. “Picked up a few stones near the west bank, close to the southern waters and pretty deep down. Others from a secret spot only I know about.” He smiled wide. “Crafting the jewelry after is the easy part.”

Lyran made most of his pieces using natural crystals that grew in small chunks. They were a natural reaction between the waters and the sediment left behind from the God Stone that had landed there and created the pool millennia ago. 

Many people believed the crystals made one closer to the Gods, making them more likely to reach the Prime state—the highest level of Blessing. All ten Blessings had three levels of power: Alus, Parane, and Exalted. Alus was the base state of Blessing one could be born with. Parane was a level of ascension reached through training and experience, giving the Blessed stronger abilities and greater control. Finally, Exalted was reached only by those who were heavily trained and disciplined, giving them stronger Blessings than most others. The Prime state of ascension was a bedtime story. It was the lofty goal that, with enough devotion to the Gods and practice, one could supposedly reach. 

That would be incredible. However, Vallorand was only a Parane Lithegar from the specific training he’d done with his father. He could run far for long periods without tiring, but he couldn’t produce the incredible short bursts of speed his father could.

Those with no Blessing, kesk thought any jewelry or rocks from the Tonik Pool would enhance their crops and bring good luck to rural harvests. A kesk himself, Lyran used this self-awareness to exploit peoples' curiosity, belief, and fear to make a sale.

Suddenly, Lyran shifted his smile to greet two men who’d wandered over to his pile of dropped necklaces. "I'll catch you later, Vallor! I need to help these two handsome customers. Come! We have the most beautiful pieces in Kalamara at the best prices." The men, Fathers of Light from the customary egg-shell cloaks they wore, bowed at Lyran’s acknowledgment of them. They'd be purchasing quite a few, Vallorand thought to himself. The Order of the Ten tended to reward high levels of donations with the jewelry.

"See you later, Lyran!" Vallorand said as the two men approached and began rummaging through his wares eagerly. 

The pangs of jealousy and self-pity Vallorand felt whenever he spent time with Lyran swept through his mind. He quickly pushed the thoughts down and briskly made his way back to his stall, zigzagging through throngs of people. As he neared the stall he found Sera poring over his covered fish. He slipped behind the display before she looked up and saw him. 

 

"Oh! Vallor, you startled me!"

 

"Oh! Sorry about that,” Vallorand said as he felt his cheeks flush. “Didn't mean to. Are you looking to purchase a fish?"

"Actually, no. I had been wondering where you'd gone. I was taking lunch and wanted to invite you over. It seems I got lost in thought there and missed lunch altogether!" She flicked her hair back, and Vallorand caught a whiff of her perfume. The scent of lavender and honey made his heart beat a bit faster and made his stomach growl.

"Ah, sorry about that. I'd taken a walk and ended up at Lyran's stall. Bit of a walk back, I suppose. I technically didn't eat either,” Vallorand said, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Well then! I insist we get some dinner together after the stalls close up. I've already hit my numbers for the day. Maybe we can close up early and grab dinner at the tavern?"

 

I did promise father I’d bring home milk. But…maybe he’d like this for me. He’d be ok having one dinner alone.

 

"Ah, sure,” Vallorand said, scratching behind his head. “I need to sell through more inventory today, the morlops won’t keep well overnight, but I would love to join you."

"Wonderful! The Gods did give us a wonderful day today." With that, Sera smiled wide and spun around. Her silky brown hair turned with her, and the honeyed aroma reached Vallorand once again. He held the scent in for as long as he could until it dissipated. She was particularly remarkable. 

Vallorand felt both giddy and nervous. He’d never been on a date before and had always tensed up when he’d contemplated asking her himself. There was guilt there too, of potentially finding someone and leaving less time to help his father. However, at that moment, Vallorand chose to feel happy and smiled at Sera as she practically skipped back to her stall, where a customer waited. His eyes lingered on her a moment more, taking in the fact that he was about to go on a date with the one girl he’d pined over for the longest time.

Unfortunately, the mood was immediately sapped by another daily customer approaching the fish stall. Vallorand frowned as Flint Rabeler staggered over, clearly intoxicated. A miner in the Pointbacks, Flint often took his days off to drink earlier than most. Recently, word around town was he'd caused an accident, and a fellow miner had broken a few bones. Without a local Terve, the miner would be out of commission for a while. For some households, a single income was all they had. In response, Flint was given some mandatory time off, giving him even more time to drink. He was also a well-known suitor for Sera and wasn't shy about it. 

A big burly man in his late twenties, he was also a Jakal. His Blessing enabled him to consciously release an ongoing stream of adrenaline over an extended period, increasing his strength. He'd been saved from the war on a technicality but refused to tell people what it was. Where the Lithegars were quick, the Jakals were strong. They often made up the front lines and were more likely to be promoted to generals. 

"Vallor! I came for some fish, yeh?" Flint said. From the stench on his breath and the wet spots on his shirt, Flint had been drinking for a while. Vallorand nearly rolled his eyes but held back.

"Flint! Sure, of course! What kind of fish are you looking for? We have our daily salted salmon or some freshly caught morlop. Both are great for strong soups lasting a week or so." 

 

Keep that cheerful disposition even when it isn't returned, his father would say. 

 

"What you tryna say, Davnar? You think I need to cook for the week cuz I can't make enough money to have different meals every day?" Flint wobbled to the right and caught himself on the stall pole. Steadying himself, he shook a drunken forefinger at Vallorand.

"Oh, of course not,” Vallorand said. “I say that to all my best customers because it's true! I fish only for the biggest, so you get the most for your money. Wouldn't want to make you pay for anything less."

"Wow, what a nice guy you are, Vallor." Flint was moving around so much Vallorand was afraid he'd fall over. His sheer size could do heavy damage to his display. "But don't assume this niceness will win over Sera. I'm best suited to marry her, of course."

 

"Of course," Vallorand hastily agreed.

 

"Don't patronize me, Davnar! You know I'm the better man. Besides, you're a Lithegar, don't forget my kind run yours. Ev' since the Days of the Games when Roald the Titan crushed Corvus the Unseen. He was seen alright, dead in the sand..." Vallorand shot glances around nervously, worried someone could have heard. Any foot soldier on recruitment in Kalamara who overheard would immediately wonder why Vallorand was holding a fish and not a sword. Luckily, everyone appeared out of earshot.

It was clear Flint was becoming aggravated. His consistent wobbling would result in damaged goods or an improper display in front of his stall, which could scare away other customers or make them watch. If the latter happened, and Flint let it slip again that Vallorand was a Lithegar, it could be disastrous. Vallorand had an idea on how to deter the man, but he'd promised his father he’d never do it. If caught, it would be worse than being caught as an unregistered Lithegar. 

Like he’d thought the worst into existence, a soldier began to walk toward the stall, Flint’s commotion finally earning attention. A cloaked man juggling books quickly ran by, a flash of gold shining from beneath the cloth. The women from the docks sat down at a table nearby. Vallorand was running out of time. Anxiety clouded his mind and fear rose within him like a storm trying to capsize his little boat in the Tonik Pool. He couldn’t be taken from his father. Urgently, Vallorand leaned over the display, disregarding care for execution.

"Flint, listen to me. I think you need to go home and sleep this off." As Vallorand said the words, his voice included a second octave, much lower than the first. It swirled around the words and bore them deep into Flint's subconscious. "You seem extremely tired and need to get some rest."

Flint's eyes snapped to attention. "Vallor, I'm going to head off. I'm a bit tired. I'll see you later." Vallorand could hear his lower register within Flint's speech as the man spoke. It was barely noticeable, but he knew it was there. The suggestion had worked. 

Vallorand looked around again, worried. The soldier had begun walking away and the women were locked in conversation. 

"OK! Well, see you later, Flint! Come by tomorrow if you're up to it. I'm sure I'll have an even better catch." Before Flint could move away, Vallorand realized he could fix one more thing. "Oh, and Flint? Vallorand Davnar is not a Lithegar.” The burly man snapped his head to look at Vallorand as the suggestion took hold. 

"Right, he isn't," he said as he stumbled away.