Update #12: A Stroll through Fairhaven
Now that audio clip brings back memories.
Speaking of our party's warforged cook, a lot more will be learned about Fortunato in this update. Unfortunately one PC will not be enjoying their stroll through Fairhaven...
***
The party stands on the dock by the
Liralen, staring hard at Ruel, while the wizard fidgets under their collective gaze. The normally gaudily dressed entertainer is wrapped up in a cloak with the hood pulled low. His features and skin tone have been subtly altered, his features muted, made to look completely non-descript. In fact, he looks nothing like Ruel at all.
“Are you sure that nothing…” begins Audric.
“No.”
“Hey! You're not a changling too are you?” Dox pipes up brightly.
“No!”
The staring continues. Finally Ruel throws up his arms and makes a frustrated sound, “Come on, we do not have all day!”
Ruel leads them through winding streets towards the castle. The only Fairhaven native in the group moves swiftly through the crowded streets, bustling with the activities of the market at midday. It is not long before the rest of the party is completely lost.
Loki grumbles as he strides along the street. Passer-bys give him a wide berth. “I swear we passed that merchant’s stall twice already!”
Behind him, Fortunato seems distracted. “I am certain he knows where he is going.”
Loki snorts, then slows his pace to walk beside the warforged, a magebred mare drawing a carriage in the opposite direction snorts as the half-giant brushes against her side, but plods steadily onward as the driver glares at Loki, opening his mouth to say something snide, then thinking better of it.
“Why aren’t you coming with us? You’re a good man, good fighter too.”
Fortunato looks up at him with a pleased expression. “Thank you my… friend. But it is, complicated.”
Loki smiles. “We have time, tell me about it.”
*****
“Where to begin? I was once told by an old dwarf, ‘If you don’t know where you’ve been boy, how do you know here your going?’ Perhaps with that bit of wisdom, I should start from the beginning, the very beginning.
When I became, aware four years ago I was told only two things, my designation and my assignment. 4-2-N-A-T-O. I was not told what my designation stood for. I still do not today. But my assignment was made clear, to guard the life of Lord Escondido ir’Marr’s sons, Master Antonio. One of the many vassal lords of Aundair fighting under Queen Aurala, the Lord ir’Marr had decided on my particular model after his son barely survived two poisoning attempts. *
For two months I was his tent guard, twenty-four hours a day. I was called inside only to test his food at meal times. In battle, I served as his shield bearer, protecting him against missile attack and engaging foes who came too close.
I must admit, for those first two months I became increasingly depressed. I was ignored by Master Antonio and his men, a construct and nothing more, not to be spoken with and last in line to be healed when injured in battle. I was lonely, I longed for company, conversation with anyone. I contemplated my existence. ‘Why did I have sentience? Do I have a soul? Is there a life beyond this one for a warforged?’
I heard no answers from above, and no one would listen to me there.
My situation improved, finally, when Master Antonio’s cook was revealed to be an assassin, attempting to poison him. I detected the deadly toxin in my usual taste test, when the cook thought me too badly injured to do my duty. Of course, no injuries were too grave for me to be excused from my vigil.
Master Antonio was shaken by this third poisoning attempt, and refused to eat, despite my testing his food. After a week of this, I could tell he was weakening, growing ill and would die if he did not eat something. I took it upon myself to cook a meal and present it to him myself. He was willing to trust me and ate ravenously. He claimed it excellent and I was appointed his personal cook.
My feelings of depression began to subside as Master Antonio took an interest in my well being for the first time. He and a few of the other commanders began to speak to me, mostly about food, but it felt good to talk to someone. I no longer served on the front lines, as Master Antonio was not willing to risk his favorite chef. I felt pride for the first time.
Removed from the front lines, I was free to observe our battles from a distance. We were investing Cyre, and the fights were going very poorly for the nation. But I was struck by how hard they fought, nearly to the last. I asked Antonio about it. He told me they fought for their homes, their way of life. I asked why we fought. He told me we fought for the glory of his father, Queen Aruala and Aundair. I felt the armies of Cyre fought for a better cause.
I can only be thankful we were not in the front lines when the great tragedy befell Cyre, which transformed it into the wasteland that is now called the Mournland. From my months as a silent sentinel I had come to enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of the Cyre countryside. I thought them beautiful, even war-torn as they were. I felt it a great loss that all of that was gone.
Two years later, we were given word that the war was ended, and I was instructed to give a great feast for Master Antonio and his men. I must admit that it was the greatest meal I had made to date. All that attended complemented him and I. After the festivities, Master Antonio asked to speak with me. I was informed that with the war’s end, warforged were no longer considered property, but would be considered as equal members of society. I believe that, if I could have, I would have cried.
Master Antonio smiled at me and told me that it had been a pleasure serving with me. I shook his hand, it was the first time anyone shook my hand. He told me that I was discharged from his service, and that he wished for me to find a life of my own, to do what I pleased. He gave me money and bade me keep my sword and shield, money to start my new life. I could find no words to say. I bowed and left him and the next day my spirits soared with the rising sun as I began my new life, my new quest for self-discovery.
I soon found, however, that diplomats and nobles saying warforged were free, and actually being free, were two different things. Everywhere I went I was met with disrespect, or outright hostility. I was chased from villages by angry mobs, children ran from me and few would do business with me. I found scant work, mostly guard duty, for a fraction of the wages of my flesh and bone peers. I spent six months at a tavern called the Coy Nixie, and was paid a measly three coppers a day. The owner, a greasy fat man named Chunk, took pleasure in yelling at me everyday. I finally quit when he accused me of drinking the lantern oil when he was not looking. I was never treated fairly, no matter where I went.
But I did not allow myself to grow bitter, or violent to those who mistreated me. I saw freedom and sentience as a gift and I cherished it. I wanted to find serenity through faith, but I did not know who, how to worship. I wandered until I chanced upon an advertisement, a position as a chef aboard an airship. I felt it my destiny.”
***
Fortunato looks up to the half-giant. “When I met you and Ruel on the road to Stormhome, I knew I was correct. Neither of you treat me like less of a person.”
Loki shrugs and claps him on the back. “You aren’t.”
Fortunato looks ahead of them; Fairhold dominates the end of the road before them. “There, you see? He knows where he is going.”
