Reudenmire’s domain was that of hospitality and clear skies.

  Of all the gods in the empire’s pantheon, he was the most agreeable. A soothing voice of reason that advocated for peaceful dealings and resolutions to age old conflicts. Tea and good conversation were his weapons for the mire spread by his fellow deities.

  I prayed, but I didn’t have the same reverence for the gods as the rest of the peasantry. I did it more out of respect than anything resembling true worship. Still, if I was forced to pick a god, it’d be Reudenmire every time. They were easily the most moral.

  Second pick being Yorokrom, obviously.

  Some might say that the whole pantheon was kept together by the ministrations of what many consider a lesser god.

  That’s why, despite his domain, there’s an entire week sanctified with his name.

  The festival was always a grand thing in my village, Patan having run himself ragged hunting monsters so that everyone could sample on the gifts of chaos. The farmers gathered their bounty and presented it to the village as a tantalizing spread of fruits, bread, and cheese. My normally reticent father would spend the mornings gleefully demonstrating his craft to curious children, while my mother told one of the many stories she collected over however many years she’d lived.

  It was a celebration of civilization, of order, of community.

  The Reudenmire festival of Anik city was multiple orders of magnitude greater than anything my village could’ve ever hoped to offer. Which made sense, but it didn’t stop my shock at the sight.

  Everywhere the streets were packed with moving bodies and the sounds of merry mirth. Moving from one curiosity to the next, spending precious coins like they were a fountain of silver. We passed by dancers not too long ago, and the sight was entrancing. Some form of belly dance but with more acrobatics and teamwork involved. Children played their games on the streets with unbridled joy under the watchful eye of the vigil.

  We weren’t in the slums, but even there was a celebration worthy of the name.

  Monster meat graced the stalls of multiple vendors, stocked full with the guilds mad competition. Each with their own specialties in the preparation of the forest’s horrors. My personal favorite was Rondu honeyed pork. Marinated in a dense array of spices, cooked over coals, and glazed in sweet honey to replace skin.

  It was heavenly, and I was surprised I found any remaining by the time it was my turn to delect in the morsel.

  Riri was similarly entranced by the rack of scale wolf ribs that’d been seared through to perfection. She’d spent so long staring that it wasn’t even hot anymore. The girl’s bewilderment at the meal in her hands seemed almost religious, refusing to do anything but savour the sight before being blessed by the taste.

  It’d be funny if I let myself forget that the girl probably hadn’t had the opportunity to enjoy the spoils of hunters before. Then it was just sad, especially with this week taking over the city every year.

  Society wasn’t kind though, but I could be, as a basic display of decency.

  Other than food, the tradespeople allowed for children of all walks of life to participate in their craft…ostensibly. I didn’t miss the looks they gave Gar, but my presence seemed to mollify the bastards. The mornings were where artisans get to both boast and find prospective apprentices, if they cared enough to look.

  Gar wasn’t too far away, and perhaps if he wasn’t a street rat they’d consider him since he’s miles ahead of the other children his age. I chose to bask in the way his face shone as he absorbed the wisdom of the woodcarvers in their stand, it was nicer to put up a fiction for myself.

  I was jaded, I knew this, but indulging in some delusion every now and again wasn’t so bad. Especially considering they weren’t likely to bother with teaching him.

  That almost cut through the merriment of the day, it was a somber reality that these two aren’t considered to be worth much in the eyes of society. But today, as well as the days to come, were a time to play pretend.

  Besides, I was actually giddy at the thought of going to a smiths and properly forging something, even if it’d just be a few nails. That was our next stop once Gar was finished with his miniature. Riri hadn’t decided what it is she wanted to try, but I had a feeling that going to witness the exotic catches of the hunters would be more than enough to satisfy the girl. She was a little…simple.

  As are most proper hunters if I were being honest, it didn’t take a philosopher to track and kill a query. Which was for the better, philosophy just needlessly complicated simple concepts in the prospective hope of finding a universal answer to life’s mysteries.

  Cerebrally stimulating sure, but so is a concussion.

  I let out a snort and kept watching Gar carve away at his chunk of wood. He was finished with the broad strokes, just needs to do the small details now and he'd have a little wooden figure of himself. Seemed needlessly complex for children, but Gar was keeping up. If I were blind I might say the woodcarvers were impressed, in reality they were just…entertaining children.

  A shame.

  “Thank you,” Riri said from beside me, I almost missed it from all the jubilation surrounding me.

  “For what?” I raised a brow. “A rack of ribs?”

  “No—well yes, but I meant for…well…everthing,” Riri said flustered. “We’re just slum rats and you’ve done…so much.”

  “Just being a decent person, don’t see the need for a thank you. It’s not like I’ve been feeding the rest of the rats.” I shrugged.

  “Let me thank you!” Riri whined.

  “Sure, sure.” I laughed. “You’re welcome, now let's get past all the sappy shit, it’s not my style.”

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  Riri lets out a huff and took a bite of the ribs in her hand. “You could use some sappiness, whatever that is.”

  I chuckled and ruffled the girl's hair, which earned her a squawk, a glare, and a weak punch to her side. I smiled and kept up my assault on keratin follicles. Riri was mighty indignant by the time I decided to let up, which almost got me to start all over again, but mercy wasn’t something foreign to me.

  Eventually Gar finished and walked back proud with a wooden carving of himself. Definitely worth more than the copper pennies I paid to the woodcarvers, but I suspected the boy wouldn't be selling the piece.

  I nudged Riri’s elbow. “You ever tried out proper lemon juice?”

  The girl's eyes sparkled so bright it banished my melancholy, and I gave her a wide smile.

  So many pointless faces.

  Shapes and contours to decorate a vessel of biology, each unique in the way their eyes crinkled in delight and lips quirked to a smile. Dancing together in an amalgam of merriment, going to and fro as the mood carried their bodies. Children played their games with laughs and shouts as they claimed the space of alleys and roads.

  The smell of meat and spice overtook the sinuses and brought a grumble to the stomach. There were a few vendors hawking their wares, but that was blessedly frowned upon on this occasion. Everything ahead was a symbol of humanity's perseverance in the face of a cruel world.

  I hated it.

  Every year I endured, but what is strength if not the capacity to persevere? Perhaps being in my position was a sign of weakness, that I had not long moved on proof to a feeble conviction. I cared little for those who would say the same, and cared less for the judgment in their gaze. But I said nothing in return, not to the eyes that stared or the mouths that mocked,I always stood stalwart amongst the crowd, smiling just as they were, celebrating this occasion of undeserved jubilation. Truly the gods were merciful.

  I danced with the higher caste, taking the occasional partner that would tolerate me and impressing them with a gambit of coordinated extravagance. I laughed at their jokes, even offering some of my own, and they asked their questions.

  I hated the social aspect of the event the most, because it was one of the few times where I couldn't ignore their curiosity for fear of breaking hospitality. Some gods may not be petty, but people are, especially those I had to fraternize with. Right then I was dancing with some pot bellied merchant's daughter, acting a little wild in my motions to emphasise the inhumanity of my form.

  The young woman followed in lock-step, capable of matching my stride and unafraid of the implied barbarity of the dance. It was nice, the pomposity of the upper caste had a tendency of making them more reserved, for the sake of an image. This one didn’t seem to subscribe to that philosophy, acting just as wild as I was.

  Though mine was an act, hers might’ve been genuine.

  She wears a sleek red toga, bright and ornate, but not decorated so lavishly as to equate her wealth to those around her. The toga cut off at the shoulder, revealing pale skin and heavily scarred arms exposed to the chill of Autumn. Her hair went down to the elbow, tied in a braid of Vokeinien persuasion. Rare to see their kind so close to the northern empire, but I didn’t care for her business.

  I just had to get through the day, keeping focus on the dance to display the appropriate amount of merriment for the occasion. Though, having a partner that reciprocated my feral motions was certainly a novelty. Usually they tried to ‘tame’ me as I went about my wild dance, not join me.

  It was pleasant, in a sense.

  But like all good things, it had to come to an end. The woman gave me a smile and a pat on the arm before moving onto her next partner. All I did was nod and followed her example. The next wasn’t nearly so pleasant, more of the same of what I was used to. Funny, I’m of ungulate heritage, and yet they treated me like a bull. Well, it would be funny if it wasn’t my reality.

  So I danced, playing their game, waiting for it to be over.

  Perhaps if I was a lesser hunter I’d be able to seclude myself during the festival, but I wasn’t, so there I was. Entertaining humans like I was some carnival animal. I hoped the show was worth it.

  “You should be down there, celebrating with your people,” A soft voice of windchimes said from over my shoulder as arms wrapped me in a hug.

  I stared down at the fraternizing nobility below. Each coming from their baronies to attend the festival. They represented something grand, in my mind at least. Cities couldn't function without the presence of farmers, and the meager amount present in the city of Anik didn’t match the hundreds dotted around the Ylmir forest and beyond. Each delivering a small caravan of goods that combined could make a place like this a possibility…but they were so disappointingly familiar.

  Shouldn’t be surprising, they weren’t the ones who till the fields, just the ones who collect the taxes alongside the nobility's other responsibilities. There were those of the magistrates' children amongst them, but they were few. A nice excuse for me to stay in the family manor. Definitely not because I was lacking in social competence.

  But I knew the god wasn’t talking about the nobility.

  “She wouldn’t want me there,” I said. “I…well, don’t want to ruin her fun. It’s a nice time for her. It won’t be as nice if I join.”

  A hand brushed against my cheek and the windchimes chuckled. “Is that why you keep visiting the elf girl? To ruin her day?”

  I blushed and stared down at the floor. “No…”

  That time the chimes came out as a soft laugh as the god hugged me tighter, leaving my head to rest on their bosom. Reudenmire liked to act like a mother when manifested as a woman, and it could be a little embarrassing but the warmth was…nice.

  “I just like her,” I mumbled.

  “I know, little Argyle. I know,” Reudenmire said. “But you should be careful of who you fall for, the girl isn’t anyone dangerous, but she has plenty of secrets. Ones that will harm you if found out.”

  I looked up to stare at Reudenmire’s star-like eyes. “What kind of secrets?”

  “Not my place to tell,” The god smiled.

  “You’re a god.”

  “That means little in the realm of hospitality. Perhaps my friends and family wouldn’t mind divulging other people's hidden facets, but I am not them. Ask a different question perhaps, and maybe I will tell.”

  I chewed on that for a bit. “Do I bother her?”

  Reudenmire hummed as they looked down at me. “You used to,” they said, which sank my heart just a little. “But now you’re more of a diversion to her. Routine. Your passion for butchering has certainly done you some favours there. I don’t think she’d take kindly to a boy pestering her incessantly.”

  “But I don’t know anything about her, and I’m too scared to ask.”

  “So you seek a god to do the job for you?” Reudenmire raised a brow.

  I pouted and looked back down at the gathered nobility. They shared a space in my family's courtyard. A large thing from what I’d heard, but my only frame of reference was the other Magisters' mansions. It was decorated with the proper plants and shrubs and bushes. Like a perfect orchestra of nature for the eyes. It got old after a while.

  The sky was tinged orange as the sun began to set on the festival's final hour, and I felt a pang of sadness at having to say goodbye.

  “Why didn’t you come earlier?” I said, a little indignation laced in my voice. “I know you can, and now I barely have any time at all with you.”

  “I’ll be back next year, little Argyle. As well as the year after, and the year after that.”

  “I hate waiting,” I said.

  “Never become a god then,” Reudenmire laughed. “Waiting is most of what we do.”