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The Wide Open World Chapter 1: A Kiss and a Journal For Idesin By Draconicon

Bastien Blanc was doing what he always did after the noon meal. He sat on the edge of his bedroom window, and looked down on the world below.

For most other species, the view would be terrifying, but for squirrels, it was very relaxing. The two hundred foot drop from the edge of the tower towards the courtyard was broken up by dozens of pieces of damaged or mis-measured stone, after all, so he was confident he could catch himself if he fell.

He wouldn't, though. He never did. Though sometimes he wished he could make that push, just to see a little more.

Instead, he kicked his legs back and forth, his heels clicking against the stone behind him as he looked out towards the horizon. A vast forest, part of the Blanc family's responsibilities, stretched out for miles ahead of him, with only a few winding cuts through it to mark the passage of rivers and the main road that led away from the family keep.

Well, the new family keep, he corrected himself. His grandfather had bought it just before handing the mantle of authority to his father, the current Marquis. He'd been told several stories of their old lands, before the kingdom had handed them the title and the money to purchase suitable lands for themselves, but he had never seen them. Only stories, stories and...

A smile crossed his face as he looked down into the forest again, seeing a few dancing lights over one of the dots that marked a clearing. They swooped over the forest, keeping low enough that nobody but one on the heights - like him - would see them. Bastien leaped to his feet, the small squirrel only barely fitting in his windowframe as he watched them fly.

The dancing lights, the servants called them, but he knew them by a different name. He grinned as they darted to and fro over the treetops, shooting around the tallest of them in spirals before slingshotting further towards the clear lands. He felt his grin get wider and wider as he watched them, almost like they were racing each other.

When they reached the border of the forest and the family keep, they suddenly veered upwards, and Bastien let out a whoop as they shot up towards the towers.

Two, three, four of the lower towers were used as slingshots, sending the little balls of light higher and higher. They swooped around, blue, yellow, and red balls shooting around each other until they floated by his window. Bastien held his arms open wide, and the balls of light swooped in, darting all around him, weaving many-colored circles and hoops around him.

Giggling, the squirrel hopped back into his room, and the circles of light finally faded. Beneath each one was a little thing, man-shaped but barely as big as his biggest finger. They were wrapped in bright leaves, dyed with juices from the forest, and they darted up to his head.

"Bastien! Bastien! Come play!"

"I can't," the squirrel said. "I'm working with my father on -"

"Play! Come on, you can come to the forest. Come fly with us!"

"I can't fly. They won't allow it."

"Come play! Come fly!"

He chuckled, even as he kept turning them down. The fae - for what was what they were - were always bright and shiny around him. Ever since he was four years old, they'd been constant companions, and ever since he'd received the Kiss of the Faith at six, they'd been the source of so much of what he knew of the world.

Slowly, they accepted his answer, and instead floated around him, resting on his head and occasionally tugging at his ears as he walked around his room. The circular, stone-walled chamber was lined with books, and he started walking along the shelves, running his fingers over the well-worn covers. Every time that he reached for one, one or the other of the fae grabbed an ear and dragged him away, always letting him get close enough to think he'd get a book before pulling him back again.

It was the usual game, and one that they could play for hours...if they weren't interrupted.

The door opened with a clang, and the fae folk leaped from his head, suddenly surrounded with light once more as an older squirrel woman shook her hands at them.

"Shoo! Shoo! You're not welcome here!"

"Mom -"

"Out!"

The fae fled, and the young squirrel ran to the window, watching them disappear back over the forest, then into the woods itself. He sighed, slumping forward over the windowsill.

"Why do you keep letting them in? You know that they mean no good."

"They're friends, mom..."

"They're dangerous. You know how they lead soldiers into traps, or little boys into holes, or -"

"But I can talk with them! They don't mean -"

"You could talk to demons, too, Bastien. Does that mean that they are good?"

"...Maybe?"

"Bastien."

He sighed, lowering his head.

"No."

"Oh, Bastien."

The older squirrel knelt down in front of him, green silks falling in layers down her body as she patted his cheek. She smiled and shook her head.

"The Kiss of the Faith is a gift from the gods. There is no greater blessing you can receive. Why do you..."

She stopped, and he knew that she knew the answer to the question. Who else would he talk to, other than the family and servants? Who else could he talk to, when he was locked in the keep ever since his fourth birthday, since his oldest brother had died?

He shook his head, but before he could pull away, she grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Look. I know this is hard. But things will change."

He nodded, even though he knew they wouldn't. The same promise had been made a hundred times in the last ten years. It never came true. The only things in his life that changed were how many books he had, and even there it only changed by numbers. He couldn't remember the last time he had been given something truly new.

His mother guided him to the door, holding onto his arm as if she worried he might run away from her. He wouldn't. There was no point.

"Come now, cheer up. Your father is throwing a celebration tomorrow."

"For what? There's no holidays on our calendar, or the eastern, or the northern one."

"You forget the southern one."

"Oh...I didn't know they had one."

"They don't. But it means we can make up a holiday, if we need to."

"...Oooooh."

He smiled. It wasn't uncommon for his father to be in a festive mood but lack a means to excuse the expenses. It wouldn't be the first time that the Marquis had spelled out some 'ancient tradition' of a far-off land that was, in reality, nothing.

"So, what is he calling this one?"

"I think he is going to call it the 'Feast of Love.'"

"A very...generic name, isn't it, mom?"

"He wasn't at his best. You know how he is before his morning tea."

The squirrel nodded as they left the room, descending the spiral staircase towards the lower floors. It was a long trip, but not so long with the company. His mother had many things to tell him about the guests that would be arriving, all the way down to the entertainment. Players, musicians, and -

He blinked.

"The wandering folk?"

"Yes, though your father isn't the most...keen on them."

"That seems...an understatement."

An understatement was the polite way of putting it. Though his father was a mischief maker himself, the Marquis had been very determined about keeping the wandering folk out of their lands. He'd never understood the reason why; like the fae, he imagined that they carried so much of the history of the world, and he would give a great deal to hear it from them.

After all, the fae were nice, but they were still of a different world. If he could hear of the world beyond the forests and the keep from people...

They reached the bottom floor, and his mother flagged down a passing servant, a young buck who hadn't quite grown into his antlers yet.

"Pardon me. Please fetch Burkhard and bring him here."

As the buck nodded and darted off, Bastien turned to look up at his mother again.

"Burkhard?"

"Your bodyguard. Well, your bodyguard in training; he is currently squire to Sir Edmund."

"Well, he must be turning out...good?"

"Show a little respect, please. Sir Edmund may be a bit of a drunk, but he is still a loyal retainer. He's earned some respect."

It was a simple enough code. It meant that the horse knight was someone that they couldn't quite afford to offend, despite some of his more questionable actions. Still, Bastien could think of others that would be far worse. At least Sir Edmund was happy when he was drunk, instead of scary.

Soon enough, the buck returned, with a stag following behind him. Though the taller deer hadn't quite grown into his antlers either, he was closer to it than the servant had been. Bastien took in the squire's livery - adorned with Sir Edmund's crest in the center and a pair of rose antlers in the corner, for this Burkhard - and quickly filtered the stag's family information out of his memory.

Yes, a family of retainers, he remembered. Part of the family that used to own the land the keep is on, and sworn to father since the purchase. Father picked someone very likely to be loyal, rather than looking outside.

They must be worried for him. But why? A sudden swell of hope rose up in his chest. Maybe things were about to change sooner than he thought.

Burkhard bowed, the surprisingly slender stag holding the position for a moment before standing up straight and resting his hand on the end of a saber.

"Master Bastien, I assume?"

"I...I am him."

"It is good to meet you. I am honored to be given the chance to safeguard one Kissed of the Faith."

"It...it is good..."

The squirrel forced himself not to blush. Not now. Not nervous now, when he had to make a good impression.

"It is good...to meet you, and...and I look forward to...working with you."

Even though the stag said nothing, he saw it in the deer's eyes. It was there whenever he talked out of family.

This is the son of the Marquis? This is the son of the man who runs the kingdom's finances?

The end reaction always varied, but it was always some similar feeling to pathetic. He blushed as he looked away, his mother already gone. She'd left during the greeting, doubtless to attend to many of the details that came with hosting a feast.

He wanted to bury himself in a hole. Failing that, he turned in the direction of the keep's library, only to stop as Burkhard cleared his throat.

"Y-yes?"

"My family suggested that I bring a gift for you, Master Bastien."

The stag pulled a small, leather-bound set of parchment from one of his pockets and handed it over. As the squirrel took it, he explained.

"It is a tradition of my family that one records his thoughts. The people will remember one's exploits. None will remember the reasons for them, if you do not record them for the future."

"I...I hardly think...I'll have exploits to speak of."

"Perhaps. But why let others decide the reasons you did what you did, if you don't have to?"

...I think we'll get along, Bastien thought as he looked down at the little journal. He slowly nodded, putting it in his pocket. I think we'll get along...just fine.

"T-thank you, Burkhard. I...I would like to...g-go to the library."

"Lead on, Master Bastien."

And so he did, hoping to the heavens that he wouldn't keep making a fool of himself in front of his new bodyguard.

The End