The Carnival at Moonbright

As the sun rose above the hills and the high walls of Moonbright, Barthemus pulled himself out of his quarters and into the crisp autumn air. The light crunch of leaves and grass cracked through the air as he walked across the carnival set up towards Blight’s Fire Fried Foods tent. Though early, a few people were already waking and making their way over as the smells of eggs, bacon, and coffee wafted in a radius from the mobile kitchen.

“Good morning Mr. Muffins!” Barthemus heard from behind him as Gisela’s tiny form lazily flew up to meet him.

“Morning Gisela. I see you’re already well healed up.”

“Yes! It seemed that all I needed was a night of rest. I didn’t have any grievous wounds from last night, so I’m only a little sore in the shoulders.”

The two of them made their way into the tent, and saw Nix sitting at a table as her child, Megara, ran around laughing as she tried to catch a grasshopper between her hands. Nix stood up as they entered and walked over to Blight’s kitchen.

“I’m gonna need more coffee this morning, my friend.” She spoke and lifted her mug to the small counter.

“One more, coming now!”

They could hear Blight turn toward the coffee pot and wave his hand at it. It lifted into the air slowly and made its way towards Nix before setting itself on the counter amongst the burn stains accumulated over time from the heat of multiple pots, pans, and utensils. Nix grabbed the pot by the handle and poured some into her mug, then smiled at Blight before turning back towards her table.

“Hello, you two. Crazy night, huh?”

“You can say that again,” Barthemus replied in his twanged drawl.

He walked up to the coffee pot still on the counter, poured himself some coffee from the mug attached to his belt, and enjoyed the heat in his hands before taking a sip. Gisela sat with Nix and watched as Megara slowly crept up behind the grasshopper. One step… two steps… before leaping onto the ground and clasping her hands around the insect. Laughing triumphantly, she raised her hands in the air and ran over to her mother.

“Mom! Look, I caught it!” Megara yelled out as she dropped the grasshopper onto the table before Nix.

As soon as the insect hit the wooden table, it jumped up, propelling itself into Nix’s shoulder and falling into her coffee. Megara gasped as she realized what she had done, but Nix laughed. She stood up, walked outside the tent, poured out the coffee and insect from her cup, then walked back over to the counter to pour new coffee into her mug.

“What plans do you have today, Mr. Muffins?” Gisela asked.

“Well, I have a friend in town that I’d like to sit and talk with today. His being here does bring a wandering mind to ask questions.”

“Ah, well, that sounds fun! Would you like some company during your travels today?”

“No, thank you Gisela. I haven’t been able to sit and converse with Humboldt in some time, and I’d like to do some small talking as well. No offense, but I like to keep parts of my past and present separated.” Barthemus replied.

His smile showed a carefree intention, but his eyes gleamed with curiosity, and as Gisela watched, she knew this wasn’t a time for her to be involved and smiled back with a slight nod that she understood. Barthemus filled his coffee again, raised his mug towards Blight as if saying thank you, and walked back into the morning chill.

Barthemus went through the New Song Gate and into Moonbright’s Honey Barrow district. While still freely open, he noticed a larger group of guards standing near the gate and patrolling the area. With everything that happened the night prior, Mr. Muffins assumed this would be a new normal for the next few weeks, as panic like that rarely happened under the watch of the Queen’s guard. Many of the town’s residents were packing their wares onto carts along the streets. Some coaches were large and pulled by horses, while some carts were more like wheelbarrows, with just enough room and weight for a single person to push through the town.

Barthemus had traveled with the carnival for a bit now, so he knew enough about each city, town, and village to get by, but he was still considered a stranger. Moonbright was a primarily human, dwarf, and elven town. While accustomed to the looks he received as he made his way through the district, it still wasn’t a feeling he enjoyed. Being seen in a show was one thing. Being seen as the only tabaxi in a crowd was another. Nevertheless, he held his head high as he walked out of the district and into the next.

The Iredale district was known for a few things: The only gate in or out of Haron’s Castle was here, the Archmage’s Tower resided only twenty-five meters from the gate, and this was the home of nobility and money. Many of Honey Barrow’s residents could be seen in the morning and evening with their carts, traveling through the streets and making deliveries that were ordered and paid for the day before. The guards patrolling the area also seemed heavier here, watching vigilantly over the nobles and those that keep the town prosperous.

Weaving down alleys and main streets, Barthemus finally entered the Ghostway district. The smell of meat, baked goods, and perfumes wafted through the air as merchants set up or started their day’s work. Trying to find his friend, he looked around at the shops and places already open to sell food. Humboldt may not be a predictable fellow, but one thing that can always be counted on is that he never starts his day without food as his first priority. In just minutes, Barthemus was able to find Humboldt at the Lasthold Bakery, sitting at a small table and enjoying a pescaria.

“Good morning, Humboldt.”

“Oh! Good morning, Mr. Muffins. Please, have a seat with me.”

Barthemus sat as a dwarven woman came over and took his order. The two sat and talked for the better half of the morning, catching up on old stories, speaking of new travels they had made and small designs they had been working on.

“It seems that I missed the excitement last night,” Humboldt mentioned as he moved his plate to the table’s edge.

“Yeah, excitement isn’t exactly the word I would use for it,” Barthemus replied. “I do have a question that you might have an answer for.”

“I’m always happy to share information with you, Mr. Muffins. What does your curiosity seek today?”

“I’m a little curious about the weapon choice of the paladin of the Dark Order. It seems that he had a more mechanical version of Jimbo.” Barthemus explained, pulling out his wand. The wand was more than just a long piece of wood. Mostly made of metal, with wooden accessories attached, it contained a spinning chamber with various crystals and a trigger made easily accessible by the pull of the index finger.

Humboldt knew this weapon well, as it was Barthemus’ pride and joy back at Westford School of Artificery. It was designed to lessen the need for spell components or having a bag to swap out items between the many spellcasting needs. With an item like Jimbo, one could hold up to six crystals inside of it, using the rotating chamber to pick and choose the spellcasting focus needed for various spells. While Barthemus had made quite a few prototypes leading up to Jimbo’s creation, it was still one of a kind.

“I didn’t get a chance to view the weapon that Sir Ulric had on his person in much detail, as it melted upon being touched by another person, but I do know that there were no arcane aspects to it. It was purely alchemical, using a trigger mechanism much like mine but using powder and a spark to cause a pressurized detonation inside the barrel, like a regular cannon. The ammunition used looked like small metal spheres, which accelerated from the weapon at an alarming rate.”

“You and your uncanny eyes Mr. Muffins, seeing more than most.”

“The issue is that I’ve never seen anything like this before. Do you know if anyone at Westford has taken one of my prototypes and designed something like this?”

Humboldt sat back in his chair momentarily, his eyes unfocused as he tried to reflect on his previous visits to Westford.

“I don’t think I can recall any such thing. I can write them a letter if it pleases you, my friend.”

“Yes, I would appreciate that.”

Humboldt pulled a book from a pocket inside his waistcoat and a long, small metallic cylinder filled with ink. As he set the cylinder’s tip on the paper, the ink flowed out of it as he wrote. After a few minutes, satisfied with his work, Humboldt put a small metallic cap over the tip of the ink cylinder, put it back in his pocket, and ripped the paper out of his book. Taking time to fold the letter carefully, he held it up into the air by a corner, then flung it away from him. Before the wind could successfully take the paper in its controlled direction, a small black hole opened before him, sucking the article into it before vanishing with a slight popping noise.

“I must learn how you do that one day.” Barthemus shared, showing a hint of inspired enthusiasm on his face.

“My knowledge is always available to you, Mr. Muffins.”

“So… Meeting with the Queen today?”

“Yes, at noon. There seems to be some discourse in the town before last night’s events involving people acting strange or seeming different in personality. While there’s no reason for alarm, she’s asked that a small investigation be taken to see if there are any similarities between these events and last night’s commotion.”

“If you need any help with that, just let me know, Humboldt. I am an eyewitness for last night’s events, and I know who all was there and involved.”

“Thank you, Mr. Muffins. Your cooperation is always appreciated. I doubt there is much to worry about, but whenever the Queen is worried, you listen and ease that worry.”

The two said their goodbyes, and Barthemus returned to the carnival. Sitting at his desk, he thought about Humboldt’s ability to send messages. With little to do, he pulled out some papers and started working on new blueprints.