“I had the strangest dream that night. A bad dream. I still vividly remember it to this day. I dreamt of jaws. A wide, gaping mouth of pure bone, filled with countless, razor-sharp teeth. They were looming in front of me, drawing ever so slightly closer. They moved at such a slow pace that it seemed they were completely still. I knew, however, that they’d end up getting to me sooner or later. But that wasn’t what scared me the most. What truly horrified me was the thought that, even if the jaws did manage to catch me, I’d grown so accustomed to the pain by that point that I wouldn’t feel a single thing.”
Some time, many years ago, there were rumors about a place which was described by many as the very incarnation of war and destruction lurking in the horizon. A peninsula with a shape that roughly resembled the head of a steed, surrounded by a deep, blue ocean. Therein lied the kingdom of Salmacia, considered one of the most thriving nations in the entire world. A nation with an army so mighty it would crush every other kingdom in its wake. Many tales were written about these lands. Tales of boundless ambition, and men with a lust for power. There’s a tale, however, that is unknown to all, for it was never put into words — until now. A tale of missing children, and a question that has remained unanswered for years.
One spring morning, in the far reaches of the realm, a humble carriage was traveling the dirt road in the middle of a lush lavender field, accompanied only by the sounds of cicadas and the shadows cast from the seagulls soaring the sky. On the back of the wooden cart, there was a man of sturdy complexion and a bushy-mustache with his head reclined over the soft, leather seat. He wore a red coat, and was carrying beside him a big baggage filled to the brim with tools of every kind, as well as an opened letter with an elaborate blazon on the sealing wax. The slow movement of the carriage had soothed him into a long nap, which was interrupted by the sound of the saddle chimes. He woke up as the sun lit his face, his neck sore from resting in an uncomfortable position. He adjusted it with his big hand while he yawned. A small teardrop slid down his cheek as he did. The ocean breeze gently removed the long strands of blonde hair from his cheeks.
“G’morning, Mr. Von Hoot!” said the coachman. “Sorry I woke you up. We’re about to arrive. Ever been to Arrecigo before?”
The man in the back of the cart opened his eyelids one at a time, blinded by sunlight. Sure enough, he was able to spot the coast town of Arrecigo in the corner of his eye.
“Once,” Mr. Von Hoot replied. “Eight years ago.”
The place was settled on the side of a big tree-covered mountain, facing the ocean. Buildings were all painted bright colors, with a promenade brimming with cypresses, white columns, and heavily ornamented lamp poles. Far down, on the docks, a seemingly infinite number of ships of all sizes were attached to the pier by ropes. The water was calm and crystal-clear. Even from afar, he could hear the sounds of waves crashing on the shoreline. It had always been, and still was, one of the most gorgeous sights he’d ever bear witness to.
The carriaged entered the town, leaving the dirt road behind. They were welcomed by an array of red-leafed trees and purple flower shrubs that made way to the main street, where people were strolling around in beachwear. As they traversed the town, they could smell the scent of wet sand and home-cooked meals being served by the promenade. They briefly passed by the market square, where various circus artists were performing tricks and acrobatic shows. Children were running around with balloons and cotton candy in their hands.
The coachman carried him to the opposite side of the mountain, far from the town. A little while later, he stopped before a gate — the bars were cluttered by golden filigree and a few letters that simply read ‘Happe’.
“This is it,” he said. “Pleasure driving you around, Mr. Von Hoot!”
A guard was watching over the gate, which he promptly opened upon seeing Mr. Von Hoot coming down the carriage. He stood in front of an enormous estate, complete with a private beach that connected straight to the ocean, as well as a luxurious wooden ferry with a huge water wheel. The manor was three storeys tall and as wide as a town’s whole block.
As soon as Mr. Von Hoot stepped one foot on the sand, a bearded brown-haired man came cheerfully rushing out of the manor. He wore a long brown coat, leather boots, and a striped hat with a big pheasant feather. He had his arms stretched open, and was holding some bright-colored red beverage with a peppermint leaf and a slice of cucumber floating in it.
“Otis Von Hoot!” the man said. “I can hardly believe we’re meeting face to face at last!”
“You must be Rooster,” Otis replied, while pulling his baggage out of the cart.
“In the flesh. Welcome to the Happe Estate!”
The man placed his hand on Otis’ back and accompanied him inside the house. An elegantly attired woman was under the main entrance’ door frame.
“That’s my dear wife, Cyril,” Rooster said. “Sweetheart! Look what I found on the beach!”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Von Hoot,” said the woman. “My husband has been talking tirelessly about you these past few weeks.”
“You know how long this man had to travel to get here?”, Rooster said, as he lifted every finger in his right hand but his thumb. “Four whole days! Came all the way from another kingdom!”
“Oh, my!” Cyril said. “You must be exhausted.”
“I had a nap on the way here,” Otis replied.
“Well, come inside. I’ll have our steward fix you a refreshment”
Rooster downed his beverage in one gulp. “Make it two, please!” he said, as he raised two fingers.
Afterwards, he was escorted inside the manor by the married couple. Somehow, it seemed even bigger on the inside. It was decorated by furniture that looked like it was built out of the rarest woods in the world, and the hallways were bathed in sunlight coming from the large window panes. Heads of hunted animals hung from the walls, and there were plenty of showcases containing everything from ancient artifacts to a collection of dissected butterflies. As they showed him around, Otis couldn’t help but notice a huge painting depicting the portrait of a man in a suit of armor. He had a thin, long mustache and a stern expression on his square-jawed face.
“Do you like it?” Rooster asked him. “That would be Elias Sauvage, king of Salmacia. The greatest ruler that ever graced these lands.”
“It’s an… interesting piece.”
“It better be, ‘cause it sure cost me a pretty penny!”
Then, Rooster took Otis to the last room in the manor. It was a big space with windows for walls, tons of indoor hanging plants, and a chessboard marble floor. Even the ceiling was entirely made of glass. A scaffold had been built in the center of the room, accompanied by a big block of white marble, a workbench, some buckets of paint, and, more notably, a sleeping cot with a mattress, a few bedsheets, and a pillow on top.
“This is where you’ll be working. And… ahem, sleeping,” Rooster told him. “I picked the solarium because it’s the place that gets the most natural light during daytime. As you can see, all preparations have been made for you already.”
“Is there any reference picture I can use?” Otis asked.
“Naturally. I had a charcoal artist make a few sketches of her right before she passed away.”
Rooster then pulled a folder out of his coat, which contained a few sheets of yellowed paper with several drawings in them. They depicted an emaciated old lady in a wheelchair, with boney hands and a few loose strands of gray hair hanging from her head.
“Ah, Grandma Irma…” Rooster reminisced. “You should’ve seen her when she was younger.”
“This’ll do. Thanks.”
“Come,” Rooster said, while placing a hand on Otis’ shoulder. “No need to start working right away. Let’s have a few drinks.”
He then took Otis to the house’s garden, where a big, wooden gazebo lay in the middle, partially covered by a few small trees. There were a few old lounge chairs inside it — Rooster sat on one of them, and Otis did the same on the one next to his. Meanwhile, the steward approached them carrying a silver platter with two icy-cold drinks.
“Are you a dad yet, Mr. Von Hoot?” Rooster asked, grabbing his glass.
“Nope. You?” Otis replied.
“I have four daughters,” he said, raising three fingers. “Amy, Kayleigh, Flor and Sophie. My precious angels. Only sweet Sophie still graces us with her presence, as the rest are all abroad.”
“You raised three fingers.”
“Come again?”
“You said you have four daughters, but only raised three fingers.”
“Oh! My mistake. These old hands of mine aren’t what they used to.”
Otis then sipped his drink while glancing at Rooster’s gorgeous, sprawling garden.
“I must say, you have a lovely home,” he said.
“Heh. You'd never believe how I managed to achieve all of this if I told you," Rooster said.
“I heard rumors that you were some sort of arms dealer.”
“‘Arms dealer’?! Heaven forbid! I don’t see how I’d be able to sleep at night if I was, Mr. Von Hoot.”
“Then what kind of business are you running?”
“Lemme tell you a little story. Many years ago, some explorers discovered a complex cave network in the vicinity of Arrecigo. Inside, they found a natural ore deposit containing, amongst other things, vast amounts of a certain, miraculous chemical compound called ‘potassium nitrate’. You know what you can fabricate using potassium nitrate, Mr. Von Hoot?”
Rooster thought he was asking a rhetorical question. However, Otis had read a few books on the subject of war.
“Gunpowder,” Otis said.
“Precisely! Since then, I’ve decided to settle in Arrecigo, where I’ve founded my own private company, ‘Happe Inc.’, dedicated to the extraction and fabrication of gunpowder, which I then sell mostly to my number one client: King Sauvage.”
Otis nodded in silence.
“But don’t think of me as just another dull, cold-hearted businessman, my friend,” Rooster continued. “I also happen to be an artist, much like yourself.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed. See, I’m a playwright. A darn good one at that, if I do say so myself.”
“What are your plays about?”
“Hope, Mr. Von Hoot. Acts of bravery. They’re tales of heroism in times of need. And my daughter Sophie is the main star. Oh, you should see her on stage. She was born to be an actress. In fact, I’ll tell you what. You should come to one of the shows. Next one is in two days. You’ll be my guest of honor.”
“Why, thank you. It’ll be my pleasure.”
After a while, they got up from their seats and went back inside the house. While they were walking, Rooster placed a hand on Otis’ upper back.
“Will you join my wife and I for lunch?” Rooster asked him. “Our chef makes an exquisite beef consomé.”
“Actually, I was thinking about going for a little walk around town. Y’know, to get acquainted with the place and whatnot. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
“Oh. Sounds good. I think I have a travel guide lying around here somewhere.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’d rather, um… discover Arrecigo’s many charms on my own.”
“Huh. Well, you can come in and out as you please, naturally. Have fun, my friend.”
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