Interlude. Chasing a Fox

  The journey from Stavlund to Jernvik had been simple enough, following the merchant trails that wound through the frozen north.

  Though forks in the road were frequent, her divine companion insisted the path was clear: simply head toward the North Star. Of course, that was easy for him to say; he could fade in and out of reality as he pleased, leaving her to navigate the slush alone.

  Marionette groaned in protest. During the day, the stars were hidden, leaving her without a compass. Yet, the God of the Sun flatly refused to walk beneath the warmth of his own domain — the irony was not lost on her. When she nagged him about teleporting them to their destination, he declined again, claiming the walk was merely a half-day trek.

  “At least you get to enjoy this fantastic wilderness, my queen!” his frivolous voice chimed.

  Apollo’s intermittent companionship was as irritating as it was enjoyable, though she would never admit the latter aloud.

  Marionette knew better than to expect anything else. Apollo was slothful to his core. If there was one thing she had learnt since reaching the outskirts of Jernvik, it was this: never ask a god for anything, and you will never be disappointed.

  As late afternoon bled into evening, the winter sun surrendered to the night. In the northern hemisphere, the days were punishingly short.

  Amber light soon dotted the valley below, painting the village of Jernvik with a cosy, inviting glow. To the east, a river carved its way toward the distant ocean; to the west, the horizon was flanked by jagged mountain ranges, where pointed-tip forests clung to the slopes in irregular intervals.

  What she loved most was the sky. Here, the starry canvas opened up in a marvellous display, free from the light pollution that choked the heavens above Solis Aeternum. It was serene, breathtaking, and ancient.

  Marionette smiled and touched her lips, feeling her exhaustion melt away, if only for a fleeting moment.

  “So, where to?” Apollo emerged beside her, rubbing his neck absently as if he had just woken from a celestial nap.

  “Perhaps the East River over there?” Marionette pointed with her thumb. His sudden appearances no longer startled her; they were simply another rhythm of the road.

  Pleased, Apollo flashed a broad, dazzling smile. “The fish market will draw many locals. It is a fine place to start indeed.” He nodded enthusiastically.

  “Exactly my thought.”

  Taking a deep, lung-filling breath, Apollo’s expression shifted. “I can feel the presence of Gaia’s champion here!”

  “Really?” Marionette clasped her hands, her red eyes blinking rapidly. Hopeful sparks flickered in her gaze.

  “Of course!” Apollo puffed out his chest and fisted his waist, a habit he defaulted to whenever he felt particularly confident. His blonde hair drifted in the breeze, and for a moment, he looked every bit the strikingly handsome god he was.

  Then Marionette squinted, her scepticism returning. “How do you know for sure?”

  She needed to be certain. He had made similar claims when they arrived in Saltnes, and again in Stavlund, only for them to find nothing but cold wind.

  “I can smell her arcane signature,” he said, sniffing the air. “It is distinct here. Believe it or not, but she is mingling with a massive amount of mana!”

  A boisterous laugh followed. Though she wasn't satisfied with his vague reply, she knew pressing him would bring no further clarity. The gods truly did act in mysterious and often frustrating ways.

  After half an hour of descending the slope, Marionette reached civilisation again.

  The main avenue of Jernvik was alive with the scent of woodsmoke and sea salt. Steam rose from the chimneys of shops and houses lining the street. At the end of the road sat the pier, where fishing vessels bobbed in the dark water in orderly rows.

  Adjacent to the pier was a large, open-air marketplace. In front of it, fishermen and shop owners huddled around a decent-sized bonfire. The writhing flames cast dancing shadows against the nearby stone walls.

  Marionette watched them with awe; it was a lovely, rustic place. However, the locals were watching her back with prying eyes — and they stared even harder at the dazzling god by her side. Even in a ragged winter cloak, Apollo’s radiant aura was impossible to ignore. No amount of fabric could hinder his excellency.

  The sharp, pungent scent of fish hit them as they entered a large wooden structure. Marionette wrinkled her nose at the strength of it.

  A rotund man stood with his back turned, hanging a leather apron on a wooden hook among various miscellaneous items.

  “We’re closed!” a thick accent echoed from his throat. A full, unkempt beard rested against his muscular chest. He didn't sound friendly, but he wasn't quite rude either.

  Marionette glanced at Apollo, silently prompting him to speak, but the god merely shrugged.

  “I know, sir,” Marionette began, her voice soft and diplomatic. “But we aren’t looking for fish.”

  The man spun around, a sharp “Sod off—” half-formed on his lips. He paused the moment he met her glittering eyes.

  His cheeks flushed a deep red, and his hand flew to the back of his head. “Umm... we’re closed, miss... I’m Bjorn, by the way.”

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  Marionette could have sworn she saw the massive man shyly fidget like a schoolgirl.

  “Aha!” Apollo pointed a long finger, his lips parting in a wry smile. “Knew it. Your deadly sin is lust!”

  “What’s that?!” The man scratched his arm, utterly flustered.

  “Spare the man, please,” Marionette chided Apollo, waving him off dismissively. She turned back to the shopkeeper. “Well, I am Marie, and this is...” she paused, “Apollo.”

  The man took a long second to size Apollo up before crossing his arms. “Apollo, huh? Like the God of the Sun?” Scepticism dripped from his scowl.

  “That’s right—”

  Marionette’s hand flew to Apollo’s mouth, sealing it shut before he could do more damage.

  She forced a giggle. “Well, he’s peculiar and... divinely special. But we’re looking for someone close to him. A relative. A little crow told me you might know where she is.” She gave him a sheepish smile.

  From what she had gathered from the locals — both human and the crows she had questioned using her Zoionphones — all signs pointed here. They spoke of a fox Wildren with silver hair who frequently shopped at this market.

  “I guess you can’t win in every aspect of life... at least he’s handsome!” Bjorn laughed boisterously, his tension breaking.

  Apollo shook his head in mock defeat, turning to browse the empty stalls with an air of feigned indifference.

  “Very well. You got a picture or something?” Bjorn opened his palm.

  Marionette’s smile faltered, her brows tilting upward. “No... she’s a fox Wildren, about my height—”

  “Baa, that won’t do!” the shopkeeper interjected with a wave. “I’m a visual learner, you know!” He pointed emphatically at his eye.

  “I, um...” She struggled for words, her hands spinning frantically. “I don’t have a picture of her.”

  “Then I can’t really help,” Bjorn crossed his arms.

  Suddenly, Apollo reappeared behind Bjorn. He raised a finger to the man's nape with his trademark divine stealth. “Afraid not? I can assist with that!”

  With a light tap, the man collapsed. His wide back hit a heavy table, knocking trays and butchery equipment into a chaotic clatter.

  “Bjorn!” Marionette gasped, her jaw dropping. It took her a full second to recover. She crouched beside the big man, her face etched with worry. “Gaia, did we just kill him?” Her hand shook as she reached for his arm. He remained unresponsive, but breathing.

  “Duh? I just did what he asked,” Apollo shrugged, walking away from the responsibility as if he were merely a spectator. Suddenly, the empty fishhooks on the display became the most interesting thing in the world to him.

  “Ahhhh!” Bjorn let out a sharp, relieving gasp.

  His eyes snapped open and fixed on Marionette. “I saw her in my dream! Wait... are you after the Astral Empress?!” he blurted.

  “Sort of,” Marionette forced a smile. She shot a piercing red gaze at Apollo, who was busy brushing dust off some random tools.

  “She isn't dead?” Bjorn asked, blinking in lingering confusion.

  The news of her supposed demise seemed to have reached every corner of the world, even the distant nation of Norwin. Although this region had been liberated after the fall of the Dunkelheit Empire, Marionette realised she had to tread carefully. If Bjorn weren't a royalist, extracting information would become significantly harder.

  “No...” Marionette answered calmly. Her gaze studied his, the weight of the mission heavy on her shoulders.

  “That’s good, then!” he exclaimed with genuine delight.

  She exhaled, relieved, and glanced over her shoulder at the blonde god.

  Bjorn followed her gaze. “It... makes sense. He must be her husband or something. Is this a royal expedition to find her? Like a classic Romeo and Juliet!”

  Apollo waved back with his best fake smile. They were clearly making up the script as they went.

  “Something like that,” Marionette grinned. It wasn't a complete lie; she was on a royal expedition as the Queen of Solis Aeternum. The details of the monarchy were just... a tad different.

  The man slowly rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, Marie. I have never actually seen the Astral Empress in my life.” His voice was sincere.

  Marionette’s smile vanished, replaced by a subtle pout. Another failed attempt. “It’s fine,” she whispered, blinking back her frustration.

  “What about a fox girl?” Apollo asked, stepping forward.

  “Oh! That’s Nohr.” Bjorn’s eyes sparked with sudden realisation. “She’s a regular here. A fox Wildren, silver hair... but she’s only this big.” He held a flat hand out at his waist.

  “Hmm, go on,” Marionette urged. “You said her name is Nohrell?”

  “Just Nohr. She can’t be an Empress; the child is far too small.” He rubbed his beard contemplatively. “Also, she’s only got one good eye, or something.”

  “One eye?” Apollo angled his head, intrigued.

  “I don’t know. She always wears an eyepatch,” Bjorn shrugged.

  Marionette tapped her chin, a potential conclusion forming in her mind. “Can we meet her somehow?”

  “She’ll be back tomorrow. I have her pre-orders here.” The man retrieved a fallen board from the floor. “See? Three kilos of Chūtoro.” He showed her the order list.

  “Ah... thank you for helping us out.” Marionette placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. The man’s cheeks flushed again in response.

  “It’s nothing, hehe.” Bjorn gave her a wide, toothy smile.

  As they departed the fish market, they headed toward the local tavern, just a few minutes’ walk away.

  “I think that’s our Champion of Gaia,” Apollo whispered, kicking at the dirt as they walked.

  “I agree. She likely wears the eyepatch to hide her most distinctive feature. Her heterochromia,” Marionette explained, clasping her hands behind her back.

  “Sharp as always,” Apollo praised.

  “Thanks!” She smiled.

  “You sound happy. Genuinely happy.” Apollo observed her, looking away at the passing crowds.

  A passing woman smiled at him, and he instinctively returned the gesture. Despite the biting cold, a handful of villagers still lingered in the streets. Boisterous cheers echoed from nearby shops and restaurants; the local sailors were really fond of their rum.

  “Do I?” Marionette questioned, her pace matching his.

  “Yeah. For many months, you’ve been exuding the air of an old wound. A behemoth burden. I know, because I’m the—”

  “Omnipotent god?” she finished for him.

  Apollo looked at her, surprised. “Yeah…” He lingered at the word, “At least, I was.”

  The town grew quiet as they moved into a side street. Apollo opened his lips, wanting to say more, then shook his head. “Maybe that is a mythology for another time.”

  “I’ll be looking forward to that, then,” she replied, choosing not to press him. “But first, let's save the world!” She pulled a determined fist to her chest.

  Let's save the world. Apollo found a strange, haunting similarity in those words. For a moment, he looked up at the split moon, an immense yearning visible in his eyes. Eons had passed. His companions and kin were all gone.

  But perhaps, just perhaps, there was still something left to save.