"Are you familiar with Player Summonings?" I asked Freida.
She arched a magenta-colored brow, her gaze fixed on me. "Is that your question?"
"No," I quickly corrected myself. "But we are in a summoning at the moment," I added for context.
If Freida had any opinions or insight on the matter, she didn't show it. She continued to sit back simply, one neon-green pant leg resting over the other, the vibrant color standing out against the dullness of the dust and incense-filled room. The roll of the hard candy in her mouth produced a rhythmic clanking sound, the only audible rhythm besides the pouring rain outside, which drummed on the cheap, metal roof.
"I'm looking for information on the enemy to the current Player—"
"Yeah, no can do on that," Freida interrupted me, waving her hand dismissively. "Way too much trouble than even what you're paying is worth."
Damn it. I had hoped she'd provide intel on who my opponent was. But if she didn't even want to discuss the matter of the Misfortune Sisters, I should have expected a similar response regarding an opponent that not a single summoned Player had managed to defeat.
"In that case, I'm looking for intel on Claude Noire—"
"Hard pass on that too," Freida said, rolling her eyes.
I blinked in surprise, her refusal catching me off guard.
"But earlier, you looked into Fin—"
"That and this are different matters." Freida crossed her arms. "Now, the next question that comes out of your mouth is what you're paying for, no matter whether I take the job or not. I don't have all day, you know."
I sighed, deciding to opt for information I had promised Remlend I would attain anyhow. It was the safest question I had in mind.
"My attendant, Remlend, is cursed with the Wallflower Curse, making him unmemorable and forgettable. I'd like a way to relieve him of the curse," I explained.
Freida, conjuring a pen and paper, responded, "If he's cursed to be forgettable, you'll have to give me as much detail as possible." Her words were accompanied by the scratch of the pen against the paper.
I provided everything I knew, with the System's assistance.
"That ought to do it." Freida set down her pen with two pages filled out, front and back. "Now, before I forget, let's get out of the way the other two requests you came about here last time."
She rotated behind herself, revealing an eccentric array of boxes. She retrieved two large boxes, placing them between us on the old wooden table. Their appearance, like every other set of boxes, was mystifyingly colorful.
"Are those drawings of socks?" I asked, leaning over. One box displayed tiny drawings of yellow and red striped socks covering the whole box, while the other featured purple with green polka dots.
Just where in the world did she commission them?
Freida ignored my question and produced an opening rune key for each box.
"I'll guide you through my findings," she stated. "Now, which box do you want to open first? The one concerning Genuiver Duchy's politics or Harley Whitmore's background?"
"Genuiver," I promptly replied, unlocking the box Freida pointed to while she nonchalantly set the other aside.
With a soft poof, a small puff of purple smoke escaped the keyhole, and a satisfying click followed as I inserted the rune key.
The contents revealed themselves—a stack of parchments adorned with portraits and filled with information. I pulled everything out, spreading the contents on the small wooden table.
"You inquired about Genuiver Duchy's politics, particularly any details that might hinder Duncan Genuiver's reclaim of his heirship," Frieda summarized my request. "I have gathered information regarding his family and interested parties."
While Natalia Ashford was a valuable resource for gathering gossip and spreading the good word about Duncan, more robust and reliable information was required to understand what Duncan was up against. Especially now that he was a royal minister to Princess Evelyn and thus back in the spotlight.
"To start, the first barrier is none other than Duncan's own reputation," Freida began. "Which has been seeing a shift in the positive direction as of late, but I'm sure you're well aware."
I nodded and pulled over a parchment offering information similar to what Natalia Ashford had provided, except it was solidified upon what had happened rather than the gossip people shared. There were concrete dates and names.
Reality versus perception. In some ways, Natialia's account was better, as people rarely recalled what had actually taken place and relied on their perception and the words of others instead.
History is written by the winners, as Micah always stated.
However, I also wanted the truth–the true accounts of what had happened.
"While Duncan was the original heir, his reputation had soured after he provided unsolicited advice about when someone or another would die. Moreover, he suggested that certain nobles within the court of the Genuiver Duchy were murderers," Frieda stated.
"That wouldn't have gone over well," I muttered.
I ran my finger over the first parchment, noting a couple of names relating to the two main events that sealed Duncan's fate. One was Princess Sedna Ozeryn, whose untimely death Duncan had accurately predicted—or close to it. In my original life, Sedna lived slightly beyond the time he had indicated.
The second was Duncan's public accusation that High Lady Thalassa Everbright had murdered her husband, otherwise known as Duncan's uncle and the Duke's brother. It was a stark contrast to the story that was publicly provided of him passing away in the night from the ailment that he was suffering from. Duncan had cared deeply for his uncle and thus took his death quite hard. However, he made a grave mistake in picking a fight with High Lady Thalassa Everbright.
"High Lady Thalassa Everbright is not only on extremely favorable terms with Duke Genuiver but is a beloved socialite and philanthropist," Frieda explained. "By accusing her of murder, Duncan had garnered enemies out of a third of the nobles at the Genuiver court and was shortly ousted from the position of heir."
I crinkled the paper with Thalassa's portrait. She was currently in her mid-forties, and her most notable characteristic was two small moles below her left eye. I recalled hearing in my original life that she was considered an exceedingly beautiful and kind woman. However, her portrait didn't convey any of her beauty or charm. She appeared cold. I believed in Freida's accuracy, and the image I saw before me was likely how the woman truly appeared when she was inanimate.
Freida tapped a small pile of papers. "With Duncan removed as heir, these three houses wasted no time in planting their children as friends and advisors to Anastasia Genuiver, the new heir: House Devamuria, House Asta, and House Helios. All are friendly with High Lady Thalassa Everbright."
I picked up one and smiled. "Duncan accused this one's father of murder as well, I see? A servant, from the looks of it?"
I didn't doubt that Duncan's accusations were legitimate. Nor could I fault him for them; he was a child when he gained this ability and only wished to correct the wrongs that had taken place. Moreover, except in the case of High Lady Thalassa Everbright, he provided his insights in private to individuals he trusted would take and do well with the information. What he didn't anticipate was for his conversations to be overheard by servants and then spread amongst the nobles. It was a naive mistake. His disfigured face hardly helped the narrative, making him out to be a creepy boy who spread malicious and false information.
"The three noble houses have benefited quite well ever since Anastasia Genuiver became the new heir and thus would pose obvious obstacles at any attempts to reinstate Duncan," Freida commented as I read over the individual profiles of the three families.
House Asta had acquired additional farmland at little cost, while House Devamuria and House Helios benefited significantly from recent tax laws. Whatever influence they were exuding over Anastasia was already paying back returns.
I'm sure Natalia Ashford could acquire sufficient and usable dirt on them all.
My eyes grazed over the text detailing how each of the families made their income, and a smile formed on my lips, noticing that they were in far less stable financial positions than their spending habits would have suggested. They were no better than the common folk, living one payday to the next. Except their days were filled with fine dining, expensive clothing, and eccentric forms of entertainment.
"Let's progress to the next one," I suggested, having absorbed enough. I gathered the parchments, carefully placing them back inside the vibrant box.
"Very well," Frieda said, placing the second box back on the table. "Information on Harley Whitmore."
Harley Whitmore had set ablaze my home in my original life. Then, in two of the rounds, she appeared to have torched Natalia Ashford's family's bakery and her place of business, killing the Gossip Queen of Genise years earlier than she was to die in my original life.
The motive was as mysterious as her identity.
I unlocked the box and fixed my gaze on its contents, perplexed.
"Why so little?" I raised a brow, extracting the three lone leaflets from the box.
It was uncharacteristic of Freida to supply so little information.
"It seems you assigned me a more intricate task than I initially foresaw; Harley Whitmore is part of a highly secretive and increasingly perilous organization," Freida responded. "Normally, I wouldn't have undertaken the task. But I'd already accepted your payment, so I did what I could without attracting undue attention."
I frowned.
"What organization?" I asked.
"Guardians of Luminal," Freida replied.
I massaged my temples, sensing a headache coming on.
"Who are they?" I questioned. The name rang a bell, but I struggled to bring it into focus. It was akin to trying to remember what I had for lunch two weeks ago. The recollection was hazy and unreliable, demanding that I first patch together the surrounding days to sew the hole shut.
I peered down at the three documents and skimmed the information.
"They are an organization your family should be somewhat familiar with," Freida explained.
"They believe there will be an apocalypse and that your family is at the center of it."
I continued rubbing my temples. What she said sounded strangely familiar. It felt like puzzle pieces appeared and fell into place.
> I decided to consult the System. It had been with me all along. My memory was murky, but its wasn't.
[ Have you forgotten? ]
[ It's as Freida Stran described. The Guardians of Luminal have been targeting your family as of late. ]
[ Charles, your head family butler, has secretly been mobilized a year ago by them, feeding them information and sabotaging your family. ]
[ You tortured Charles to the point that he spilled to your brother everything from what he shared with the Guardians of Luminal to how the organization found and contacted him. Micah shared everything he learned soon after with you. ]
I blinked.
Yes, Charles. How did I forget that?
The question was partially rhetorical. I already gathered that the affliction that had lowered my Intelligence may have affected my memory. If Intelligence went up with information gathered, it was safe to assume that a loss in Intelligence could indicate a loss in memory of information gathered.
Damn it. Just what else had I forgotten?
I rubbed my temples.
***
"Don't forget to take two items!" Frieda called out. "That was the deal!"
"Yes, of course," I replied and walked over to one of the tables piled with seeming junk. And most of it was, in fact, junk.
However, nestled within the piles of discarded oddities, a glimmer of possibility lingered—the prospect of uncovering a hidden gem, like the Cursed Disappearing Ring. Ironically, it was nowhere to be found since I took it in the round prior.
I took my time looking through the items, picking them up, and inspecting the descriptions and warnings for them. The last time around, I was in a hurry and simply grabbed two items, which ended up being useless.
What is this?
I picked up a very dirty teacup with a gorgeous blue image of a forest on its outside. It appeared to have been used to drink black sludge on the inside, and its handle was broken off.
[ Item: Cursed Ebon Teacup
Description : This tarnished teacup, once an elegant vessel for refined tea, now bears the stains of a corrupted past.
Warning : Use extreme caution when handling. Consuming any liquid from this vessel, even if it appears clean, may have unpredictable and potentially harmful effects. Exercise utmost care and avoid any attempts to repair, break, or cleanse the teacup, as it may intensify the curse. ]
How lovely.
I set it down, careful not to break it any further and bring the curse onto myself.
Besides, I've already drunk enough poisoned tea, as it were.
I gazed at the table full of cursed artifacts and sighed.
There has to be something of use.
However, after another thirty or so items, I decided to opt for the least evil of the cursed objects. Or, at the very least, ones that I could imagine a decent use for.
The first was a dull-looking letter opener with an old-fashioned intricate design on its handle.
[ Item: Cursed Iron Letter Opener
Description : Despite this once-polished letter opener having succumbed to the passage of time and now bearing the scars of corrosion, it can still successfully open any letter.
Warning : The rusted metal harbors an enchantment that can alter the content of the letters, introducing falsehoods or concealed messages. ]
It didn't suggest that cleaning it up would cause any issues, like with the teacup, and if so, it could prove to be a great instrument of chaos and entertainment.
The second item was a door handle with a sickly green patina that had overtaken its surface.
[ Item: Cursed Brass Door Handle
Description: This brass door handle just needs a door. Attach a door to it, and you can transport yourself to another space.
Warning : Does not function as a regular door handle. Opening doors with this handle may transport you physically to a location much farther than intended. Location's safety is not guaranteed, other than it will be on the other side of a door (of some sort). ]
While the warning was concerning, the implication that this door handle could transport me, similarly to a mini-portal, was intriguing. While the location was unknown, in the case of an emergency, it didn't really matter, did it?
I pocketed the items and walked outside, with Henry ready with the large umbrella to take me to the carriage's safety.
"Henry, let's head on home," I instructed, having to raise my voice over the storm. Rain was now seemingly racing down to earth, with the clouds wringing out every last droplet possible.
I settled into the carriage and wiped my wet face with a napkin.
"Peep!"
Is it fine to come out now?
"Yes." I opened my coat and let Leona out.
Finally! I was thinking you would keep me in there forever.
She fluttered over to the other side and perched herself across from me. However, she didn't say anything else, seemingly realizing my poor mood.
The vehicle rolled forward, rocking on the broken road. Rain fell heavily over the carriage, drowning out most outside sounds. I rubbed my temples, the headache that had faded momentarily now coming back.
>
AlekAundra
Happy New Year!
In 2024, I made a few resolutions and have been good about keeping them so far. One of which has been to walk 10,000+ steps a day. So far, so good! I was terrible about getting out and walking last year. I read about a Stanford study that showed even a 15-minute walk can help increase creativity by 60%. And I've noticed it certainly does help. Plus, health benefits.
As usual, you can read 4 chapters ahead on Patreon.
"Are you familiar with Player Summonings?" I asked Freida.
She arched a magenta-colored brow, her gaze fixed on me. "Is that your question?"
"No," I quickly corrected myself. "But we are in a summoning at the moment," I added for context.
If Freida had any opinions or insight on the matter, she didn't show it. She continued to sit back simply, one neon-green pant leg resting over the other, the vibrant color standing out against the dullness of the dust and incense-filled room. The roll of the hard candy in her mouth produced a rhythmic clanking sound, the only audible rhythm besides the pouring rain outside, which drummed on the cheap, metal roof.
"I'm looking for information on the enemy to the current Player—"
"Yeah, no can do on that," Freida interrupted me, waving her hand dismissively. "Way too much trouble than even what you're paying is worth."
Damn it. I had hoped she'd provide intel on who my opponent was. But if she didn't even want to discuss the matter of the Misfortune Sisters, I should have expected a similar response regarding an opponent that not a single summoned Player had managed to defeat.
"In that case, I'm looking for intel on Claude Noire—"
"Hard pass on that too," Freida said, rolling her eyes.
I blinked in surprise, her refusal catching me off guard.
"But earlier, you looked into Fin—"
"That and this are different matters." Freida crossed her arms. "Now, the next question that comes out of your mouth is what you're paying for, no matter whether I take the job or not. I don't have all day, you know."
I sighed, deciding to opt for information I had promised Remlend I would attain anyhow. It was the safest question I had in mind.
"My attendant, Remlend, is cursed with the Wallflower Curse, making him unmemorable and forgettable. I'd like a way to relieve him of the curse," I explained.
Freida, conjuring a pen and paper, responded, "If he's cursed to be forgettable, you'll have to give me as much detail as possible." Her words were accompanied by the scratch of the pen against the paper.
I provided everything I knew, with the System's assistance.
"That ought to do it." Freida set down her pen with two pages filled out, front and back. "Now, before I forget, let's get out of the way the other two requests you came about here last time."
She rotated behind herself, revealing an eccentric array of boxes. She retrieved two large boxes, placing them between us on the old wooden table. Their appearance, like every other set of boxes, was mystifyingly colorful.
"Are those drawings of socks?" I asked, leaning over. One box displayed tiny drawings of yellow and red striped socks covering the whole box, while the other featured purple with green polka dots.
Just where in the world did she commission them?
Freida ignored my question and produced an opening rune key for each box.
"I'll guide you through my findings," she stated. "Now, which box do you want to open first? The one concerning Genuiver Duchy's politics or Harley Whitmore's background?"
"Genuiver," I promptly replied, unlocking the box Freida pointed to while she nonchalantly set the other aside.
With a soft poof, a small puff of purple smoke escaped the keyhole, and a satisfying click followed as I inserted the rune key.
The contents revealed themselves—a stack of parchments adorned with portraits and filled with information. I pulled everything out, spreading the contents on the small wooden table.
"You inquired about Genuiver Duchy's politics, particularly any details that might hinder Duncan Genuiver's reclaim of his heirship," Frieda summarized my request. "I have gathered information regarding his family and interested parties."
While Natalia Ashford was a valuable resource for gathering gossip and spreading the good word about Duncan, more robust and reliable information was required to understand what Duncan was up against. Especially now that he was a royal minister to Princess Evelyn and thus back in the spotlight.
"To start, the first barrier is none other than Duncan's own reputation," Freida began. "Which has been seeing a shift in the positive direction as of late, but I'm sure you're well aware."
I nodded and pulled over a parchment offering information similar to what Natalia Ashford had provided, except it was solidified upon what had happened rather than the gossip people shared. There were concrete dates and names.
Reality versus perception. In some ways, Natialia's account was better, as people rarely recalled what had actually taken place and relied on their perception and the words of others instead.
History is written by the winners, as Micah always stated.
However, I also wanted the truth–the true accounts of what had happened.
"While Duncan was the original heir, his reputation had soured after he provided unsolicited advice about when someone or another would die. Moreover, he suggested that certain nobles within the court of the Genuiver Duchy were murderers," Frieda stated.
"That wouldn't have gone over well," I muttered.
I ran my finger over the first parchment, noting a couple of names relating to the two main events that sealed Duncan's fate. One was Princess Sedna Ozeryn, whose untimely death Duncan had accurately predicted—or close to it. In my original life, Sedna lived slightly beyond the time he had indicated.
The second was Duncan's public accusation that High Lady Thalassa Everbright had murdered her husband, otherwise known as Duncan's uncle and the Duke's brother. It was a stark contrast to the story that was publicly provided of him passing away in the night from the ailment that he was suffering from. Duncan had cared deeply for his uncle and thus took his death quite hard. However, he made a grave mistake in picking a fight with High Lady Thalassa Everbright.
"High Lady Thalassa Everbright is not only on extremely favorable terms with Duke Genuiver but is a beloved socialite and philanthropist," Frieda explained. "By accusing her of murder, Duncan had garnered enemies out of a third of the nobles at the Genuiver court and was shortly ousted from the position of heir."
I crinkled the paper with Thalassa's portrait. She was currently in her mid-forties, and her most notable characteristic was two small moles below her left eye. I recalled hearing in my original life that she was considered an exceedingly beautiful and kind woman. However, her portrait didn't convey any of her beauty or charm. She appeared cold. I believed in Freida's accuracy, and the image I saw before me was likely how the woman truly appeared when she was inanimate.
Freida tapped a small pile of papers. "With Duncan removed as heir, these three houses wasted no time in planting their children as friends and advisors to Anastasia Genuiver, the new heir: House Devamuria, House Asta, and House Helios. All are friendly with High Lady Thalassa Everbright."
I picked up one and smiled. "Duncan accused this one's father of murder as well, I see? A servant, from the looks of it?"
I didn't doubt that Duncan's accusations were legitimate. Nor could I fault him for them; he was a child when he gained this ability and only wished to correct the wrongs that had taken place. Moreover, except in the case of High Lady Thalassa Everbright, he provided his insights in private to individuals he trusted would take and do well with the information. What he didn't anticipate was for his conversations to be overheard by servants and then spread amongst the nobles. It was a naive mistake. His disfigured face hardly helped the narrative, making him out to be a creepy boy who spread malicious and false information.
"The three noble houses have benefited quite well ever since Anastasia Genuiver became the new heir and thus would pose obvious obstacles at any attempts to reinstate Duncan," Freida commented as I read over the individual profiles of the three families.
House Asta had acquired additional farmland at little cost, while House Devamuria and House Helios benefited significantly from recent tax laws. Whatever influence they were exuding over Anastasia was already paying back returns.
I'm sure Natalia Ashford could acquire sufficient and usable dirt on them all.
My eyes grazed over the text detailing how each of the families made their income, and a smile formed on my lips, noticing that they were in far less stable financial positions than their spending habits would have suggested. They were no better than the common folk, living one payday to the next. Except their days were filled with fine dining, expensive clothing, and eccentric forms of entertainment.
"Let's progress to the next one," I suggested, having absorbed enough. I gathered the parchments, carefully placing them back inside the vibrant box.
"Very well," Frieda said, placing the second box back on the table. "Information on Harley Whitmore."
Harley Whitmore had set ablaze my home in my original life. Then, in two of the rounds, she appeared to have torched Natalia Ashford's family's bakery and her place of business, killing the Gossip Queen of Genise years earlier than she was to die in my original life.
The motive was as mysterious as her identity.
I unlocked the box and fixed my gaze on its contents, perplexed.
"Why so little?" I raised a brow, extracting the three lone leaflets from the box.
It was uncharacteristic of Freida to supply so little information.
"It seems you assigned me a more intricate task than I initially foresaw; Harley Whitmore is part of a highly secretive and increasingly perilous organization," Freida responded. "Normally, I wouldn't have undertaken the task. But I'd already accepted your payment, so I did what I could without attracting undue attention."
I frowned.
"What organization?" I asked.
"Guardians of Luminal," Freida replied.
I massaged my temples, sensing a headache coming on.
"Who are they?" I questioned. The name rang a bell, but I struggled to bring it into focus. It was akin to trying to remember what I had for lunch two weeks ago. The recollection was hazy and unreliable, demanding that I first patch together the surrounding days to sew the hole shut.
I peered down at the three documents and skimmed the information.
"They are an organization your family should be somewhat familiar with," Freida explained.
"They believe there will be an apocalypse and that your family is at the center of it."
I continued rubbing my temples. What she said sounded strangely familiar. It felt like puzzle pieces appeared and fell into place.
> I decided to consult the System. It had been with me all along. My memory was murky, but its wasn't.
[ Have you forgotten? ]
[ It's as Freida Stran described. The Guardians of Luminal have been targeting your family as of late. ]
[ Charles, your head family butler, has secretly been mobilized a year ago by them, feeding them information and sabotaging your family. ]
[ You tortured Charles to the point that he spilled to your brother everything from what he shared with the Guardians of Luminal to how the organization found and contacted him. Micah shared everything he learned soon after with you. ]
I blinked.
Yes, Charles. How did I forget that?
The question was partially rhetorical. I already gathered that the affliction that had lowered my Intelligence may have affected my memory. If Intelligence went up with information gathered, it was safe to assume that a loss in Intelligence could indicate a loss in memory of information gathered.
Damn it. Just what else had I forgotten?
I rubbed my temples.
***
"Don't forget to take two items!" Frieda called out. "That was the deal!"
"Yes, of course," I replied and walked over to one of the tables piled with seeming junk. And most of it was, in fact, junk.
However, nestled within the piles of discarded oddities, a glimmer of possibility lingered—the prospect of uncovering a hidden gem, like the Cursed Disappearing Ring. Ironically, it was nowhere to be found since I took it in the round prior.
I took my time looking through the items, picking them up, and inspecting the descriptions and warnings for them. The last time around, I was in a hurry and simply grabbed two items, which ended up being useless.
What is this?
I picked up a very dirty teacup with a gorgeous blue image of a forest on its outside. It appeared to have been used to drink black sludge on the inside, and its handle was broken off.
[ Item: Cursed Ebon Teacup
Description : This tarnished teacup, once an elegant vessel for refined tea, now bears the stains of a corrupted past.
Warning : Use extreme caution when handling. Consuming any liquid from this vessel, even if it appears clean, may have unpredictable and potentially harmful effects. Exercise utmost care and avoid any attempts to repair, break, or cleanse the teacup, as it may intensify the curse. ]
How lovely.
I set it down, careful not to break it any further and bring the curse onto myself.
Besides, I've already drunk enough poisoned tea, as it were.
I gazed at the table full of cursed artifacts and sighed.
There has to be something of use.
However, after another thirty or so items, I decided to opt for the least evil of the cursed objects. Or, at the very least, ones that I could imagine a decent use for.
The first was a dull-looking letter opener with an old-fashioned intricate design on its handle.
[ Item: Cursed Iron Letter Opener
Description : Despite this once-polished letter opener having succumbed to the passage of time and now bearing the scars of corrosion, it can still successfully open any letter.
Warning : The rusted metal harbors an enchantment that can alter the content of the letters, introducing falsehoods or concealed messages. ]
It didn't suggest that cleaning it up would cause any issues, like with the teacup, and if so, it could prove to be a great instrument of chaos and entertainment.
The second item was a door handle with a sickly green patina that had overtaken its surface.
[ Item: Cursed Brass Door Handle
Description: This brass door handle just needs a door. Attach a door to it, and you can transport yourself to another space.
Warning : Does not function as a regular door handle. Opening doors with this handle may transport you physically to a location much farther than intended. Location's safety is not guaranteed, other than it will be on the other side of a door (of some sort). ]
While the warning was concerning, the implication that this door handle could transport me, similarly to a mini-portal, was intriguing. While the location was unknown, in the case of an emergency, it didn't really matter, did it?
I pocketed the items and walked outside, with Henry ready with the large umbrella to take me to the carriage's safety.
"Henry, let's head on home," I instructed, having to raise my voice over the storm. Rain was now seemingly racing down to earth, with the clouds wringing out every last droplet possible.
I settled into the carriage and wiped my wet face with a napkin.
"Peep!"
Is it fine to come out now?
"Yes." I opened my coat and let Leona out.
Finally! I was thinking you would keep me in there forever.
She fluttered over to the other side and perched herself across from me. However, she didn't say anything else, seemingly realizing my poor mood.
The vehicle rolled forward, rocking on the broken road. Rain fell heavily over the carriage, drowning out most outside sounds. I rubbed my temples, the headache that had faded momentarily now coming back.
>
AlekAundra
Happy New Year!
In 2024, I made a few resolutions and have been good about keeping them so far. One of which has been to walk 10,000+ steps a day. So far, so good! I was terrible about getting out and walking last year. I read about a Stanford study that showed even a 15-minute walk can help increase creativity by 60%. And I've noticed it certainly does help. Plus, health benefits.
As usual, you can read 4 chapters ahead on Patreon.
