A Little Soup and Sorrow

Selthia and her companion sat in the corner of the dimly lit inn, her dark fur and long brush streaked with mud from weeks of travel. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting long shadows on the rustic wooden walls of the remote village tavern. Her once-ornate cloak - embroidered with the fine silver thread of her lineage - was now threadbare, its brilliance dulled by the harsh wilderness and the weight of the past. 

The jackal sitting across from Selthia was a few years older than her, and was well armed with a magical staff leaning against the window next to him. The tavern was, luckily, mostly empty. The setting sun was helping to conceal their identities too, as though it too wanted to help with the vixen’s long voyage. In front of her was thin soup - the only thing she could buy on what was left of the coppers she had kept on her person.

“Eat,” Hhalwolf said, staring into his young ward’s brilliant violet eyes. He was wearing a long gray robe made for travel. “What would your father say, young vixen, if I let you starve?”

“I hardly think Varok the Silent would say anything at all,” Selthia retorted, quite pleased with herself.

“I sometimes wonder if you are a little too clever for your own good,” Hhalwolf muttered. He adjusted his robe and leaned in. “We have to talk about what your father intends for you to do.”

Selthia made a little annoyed face on her muzzle. Next to her soup was a glass of mead. “Don’t they have any good wine here?” She asked.

“Not everyone is a princess, princess,” Hhalwolf said. Selthia made a cute little ‘hmph’ and sampled the thick alcoholic liquid. Again, her muzzle scrunched in distaste. 

“When can we go home, Grey?” She asked. It was her pet name for her tutor and guardian. At this question, the jackal breathed in deeply and gently put his paw on hers as she gripped the bowl of soup.

“We can never go home again, pup,” he said darkly.

The ever-present smirk on Selthia’s muzzle faded for the first time in years.

“Wh-what do you mean, Grey?” She asked softly. 

“I... How shall I put this?” Hhalwolf said.

“Is... is father all right?” Selthia asked, leaning forward, her bright purple eyes glittering on the edge of tears. Hhalwolf licked his chops.

“I’ve never... I’ve never been easy on you, Selthia. You know that.”

“Spit it out, jackal!” Selthia said, tears finally erupting. It was the only time Hhalwolf had known the vixen to be emotional. The barkeep - a weasel - disappeared into the back as Selthia relaxed. “Grey... please...”

“I- I left my master as the adventurers were breaking through the high wards in his sanctuary, Selthia.”

A look appeared on Selthia’s face of pure shock and horror. Hhalwolf continued.

“He knew it was the end.”

“...No...”

“...He made me pledge not to aid him, but to get you to safety. To a new place that he has discovered.”

Selthia slumped back in her seat and now she was the silent one, her brush collapsing to the bench and floor in defeat. She had been resilient for many years, and seeing her lost stirred something in the jackal mage.

“Grey? Grey?” She mumbled, her violet eyes losing some of their luster. Selthia was no longer the clever vixen witch that Hhalwolf had looked over for the past few years: she was a frightened pup.

“I’m here,” Grey said softly reaching for her paw. “Your father has-” he gulped - “-had a plan. He spent the last decade carving out a place for you in a small city state far away from his tower... i-in case this happened.”

Selthia stared at him dumbly and, again, the jackal was startled: the clever young vixen was completely lost for the first time since he knew her. He stood and sat next to her, slipping into the bench beside her - being sure to lift her cloak.

“Wh-where is it?” Selthia asked.

“At the cusp of the Southern Ocean,” Grey said. “A settlement with a secret that your father and I uncovered whilst reading ancient documents. The ones you helped ‘liberate’ from the Summervalor temple? You remember?” He said, nudging her with a slight grin.

“Oh... oh yes,” Selthia said, a little smile returning to her muzzle. She buried her nose in Grey’s cloak as he held her close.

“I know it hurts.” 

Selthia sobbed. Grey had rarely seen the relationship between the tongueless, dark wizard Varok the Silent and his little pup, but it couldn’t have been joyful.

“Did... did father sa-communicate much about me, Grey?”

Grey gulped. “He loved you so much, Selthia,” he said. Grey had had many masters, and Varok was one of the most mysterious. “He was so proud of you.”

Proud. That’s what Selthia’s mind latched onto. She nuzzled in Grey’s robes as he petted her head.

“He...” Grey started. “He had many troubles, Selthia. He might not have been the best father, but-”

Selthia lurched up.

“Be quiet, Grey!” She said, her eyes still wet with tears. “He was a fine father! He loved me and he was proud of me!”

“I didn’t say he didn’t love you!” Grey said, startled. “He loved you, of course!”

Selthia’s chest was heaving as she studied his face.

“He just had... very serious communication issues.” Grey said in his tutorly, manner-of-fact voice.

Selthia chuckled slightly, softening. “Being silent will have that effect.” 

Grey tilted his fluffy head and petted the side of his protege’s cheek. “It’s called Vulane.”

“What is?”

“The place your father and I have chosen to settle you in.”

Selthia’s tail, at least, was not completely drooping anymore as she reoriented herself toward her watery soup.

“There is a very... old secret there.”

Selthia took a delicate slurp of soup, watching her tutor. Slowly, she finished.

“And what makes you think I am interested in secrets?” She asked slyly, the mischief returning to her bright eyes.

Hhalwolf couldn’t help but chuckle. “Come now, when have you not been interested in secrets?” 

With the last gulp of the soup she held her own chuckle in until she had drank it down. “When they are no longer secrets,” she said with a theatrical air - mirroring a line from the sacred second volume of the Book of Compromise.

Hhalwolf actually laughed as he wiped a few errant tears away from his ward’s beautiful eyes.

“I cannot wait to see who you grow into, my dear pupil,” he said softly.