34.
ARTWORK: Yige Xu
the dog and the sister KIERAN KNOX Hello, weary wanderer. I see you survived your ordeal at the sea’s hands. Do not look so surprised. I watched from this very beach, as your boat writhed so violently amidst the water. Though I scarcely know how you managed to steer such a pitiful thing. Wood of rotten core, and moth-eaten sails that resemble bare threads. Though, as all wanderers in strange lands manage, I see you were able to retain grip of your weapon. ‘Tis fine steel, I must say. Metal like that could only come from the Cities, far beyond the horizon. Are you another messenger, an envoy sent to kneel before our Childe King? You must know what happened to the last one. A truly grisly fate.
mischaracterising you. So many who land upon these shores will walk this very beach, and pass by myself with nary a glance or word. Though I am no proponent of violence, it does give me satisfaction to watch their remains carried on vast litters, and cast into the waters before us. Those people are eaters. If there is one thing you ought to know, it is that here we view the act of eating as a sin. I do not blame you for the need, for you it is a need, but for us, spawn of the Childe, it is an excessive affectation. Should you ever need to quell that parasite you call hunger, do turn away from your host. It will mitigate the insult. Now, such etiquette aside, what you are seeking,
They say her remains were cast into the water on this very beach. From what I understand, the Childe King has not changed their mind. You must have an incredible speech prepared if you are brave enough to tread those hollow halls. Not an envoy? Oh well, it would have been fun to play a part in history, minor as it would be. Then you must be a mercenary. Well, there are no wars in these lands. Those kinds of strife passed from memory, long, long ago.
Scholar? Words? How very interesting. You seek to learn our language? No. Our stories? Now that I can proudly contribute to. For you see, I am a storyteller among my kin. I know, how strange that a storyteller should sit, and wait, upon such a forlorn shore. However, it only makes the telling sweeter, when one such as yourself, follows their craving to me. Which tale do you seek to hear most?
Neither an envoy nor a mercenary? I dare say I have spoken, and assumed, long enough. Who are you, that comes to these gloomy lands?
The Hound’s Burden? The one tale that escaped our borders. Oh? You continue to surprise me, stranger. Yes, indeed, the title of Hound’s Burden is a foreign creation. Here, we call it the Twin’s Tragedy, or even more simply, the Dog that ate Death.
A scholar? Not unlikely, but certainly not common. Have you come to learn Rites from the Childe Court? No? How very interesting. I apologize again for
‘Tis not long, but listen close to this story of despair.
