“Rose, what are you doing? We need your help out here!” Wendel Zimmermann barked. Rose’s face was white as a sheet as she struggled to come up with a response to her father.

“I wuh-was just… helping out these customers…” She stammered out. Mr. Zimmermann looked towards Rose’s hand and spotted a pencil. He clenched his fist as his blood pressure began to rise.

“Are you an imbecile? How many times have I told you to stop bothering the customers with your drawing nonsense?” Mr. Zimmermann shouted as he walked towards Rose with his open hand raised and ready to strike his daughter’s face. Rose attempted to speak, but failed to create a single coherent word. Just as Mr. Zimmermann was about to slap Rose, a small brown metal object shot through the air and hit him in the palm of his hand. It lacked the force to break his skin or cause internal bleeding, but it did create a sharp pain that was intense enough to make Mr. Zimmermann stop what he was doing. Wendel Zimmermann’s arm retreated towards his chest as Nashorn began to speak.

“I’m sorry sir, but that won’t be necessary. Your daughter was acting as a wonderful host and we all greatly appreciate her company,” Nashorn said. His voice was laced with not anger or aggression, but sternness. Neither Mr. Zimmermann nor his daughter were able to easily process what just happened. The exact nature of how Wendel had been injured was both surprising and perplexing enough, but to hear someone say that they actually wanted to be around Rose made Wendel feel like someone just hit him over the head with a hammer.

“Uh… Okay…” Wendel said before turning to his daughter, “Everything’s okay here, right?” he asked. Rose smiled and nodded her head. Wendel then turned around and began to exit the little room. On his way out he was able to barely notice the object that had struck him. It was a small bronze coin that was minted within and circulated throughout the empire. Wendel was able to quickly identify it as a One-Twentieth Copper Piece1, the smallest and least valuable coin in imperial circulation.

Its small size made it, as far as most people were concerned, only slightly more valuable than garbage. There wasn’t much you could buy with just one of them. Wendel always thought they were a stupid idea, something that only existed becuase the emperor wanted his wife and each of his children to have their own coin. As far as he was concerned, that made sense when you had four or five kids, but when you had nine you had to make useless coins like the one-twentieth copper piece just to make sure everyone was included. Normally, whenever he was paid with these coins (usually in fistfulls for rather minor goods and services), he would gripe about it made no sense that so much effort was put into making a coin in honor of Alejandra or whoever, when this brat wasn’t even going to ever have to deal with it, but right now he was more concerned with exactly how this one-twentieth copper piece had hit his hand. He thought he had seen that Nashorn fellow in the corner of his eye doing something with his hands right before the coin hit him, but what? He couldn’t have just flicked it at him. It would take an inhuman amount of strength to flick a coin from that distance with that level of force and an unfathomable degree of dexterity to get it to hit him. Wendel quickly decided that couldn’t be the case. If Nashorn did that it must have been with some sort of sling or some other parlor trick.

Wendel snatched up the coin and pocketed it. Even if it was almost-worthless, it was still money. He then turned to Rose.

“I’ll take care of serving the tables. You just keep our guests here entertained,” Wendel said to his daughter.

“Yes, father,” Rose replied with a small smile on her face. She watched her father leave the room and then turned to Nashorn.

“Duh-did you just…” She stammered out.

“Did I just what?” Nashorn replied. His face was expressionless for a moment. This expressionlessness then gave way to a small, innocent smile.

“Didn’t you say something about ‘two-point perspective’. I would love to hear about that and I think my friends would love to see more of your drawings. We haven’t had much in the way of entertainment for a long time,” Nashorn said.

After a moment of unease, Rose decided to put what had just transpired into the back of her mind and took a seat with the others.

Rose would end up spending much of the rest of the day with Nashorn and his group. After teaching Nashorn about two-point perspective, she drew portraits of everyone in Nashorn’s sketchbook. The room was full of laughter as Rose and the group shared stories with each other. Rose’s interactions with the members of the group slowly began to feel more natural and relaxed to her. After a while it didn’t feel like she was talking to customers, but rather something else; something more intimate than that. It almost felt like they were her friends. They never ordered her around or told her to shut up or struck her. They were actually willing to listen to her when she spoke. It was strange, but comforting. It was so comforting that Rose never questioned why Sova had to excuse himself from the room multiple times or why he would whisper something in Nashorn’s ear every time he returned. Rose didn’t care about any of the group’s strange quirks or unexplained idiosyncrasies, because it didn’t really matter to her. She was just happy that she wasn’t alone.

The following day

It had been a half hour since Rose and the group went their separate ways. She had decided to join them earlier that day when she found out that she had to visit the village of Pomodoro to pick up fresh tomatoes for the inn. The first leg of her trip to Pomodoro took her on the same road that lead to Weisshart, so it made sense for them to travel together.

Nashorn’s group had been rather quiet for some time. This silence was only broken when decided to speak up Niedźwiedź.

“Nas… I have to pee. Can we take a break?” he asked. Before Nashorn could think about this Zmija chimed in.

“Actually, I have to go as well.” she said. Nashorn shrugged.

“We’ve been traveling for quite some time. I guess a quick break wouldn’t hurt,” he replied.

“In that case, I think I’ll scout ahead; see how close we are to the next village,” Sova announced. Nashorn nodded in approval. Zmija and Niedźwiedź began to walk away from the road in separate directions while Sova got behind a large boulder and began to strip. After a minute or two neither Niedźwiedź nor Zmija were visible while an owl flew out from behind the boulder and into the sky.

Nashorn, Farkash, and Hienă were left alone on the road. Without anything to say to each other they simply stood in silence. Suddenly, Hienă’s body jerked, as though she had just been shaken awake. In the corner of her eye, she saw a rabbit moving along the side of the road. She began to move towards it almost automatically; no slow or ambivalent movements; she just bolted towards the creature and into the woods. Neither Nashorn nor Farkash had any strong reactions to this behavior.

Once Hienă had disappeared from sight, Farkash began to make eye contact with Nashorn and slowly move towards him

“Nas, we need to talk,” He said. His voice was deep and serious and his brown eyes stared deep into Nashorn’s red ones.

“I’m listening. What is this about?” Nashorn responded.

“The girl; you were acting soft around her,” he said. Nashorn remained expressionless.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I was just playing a part.” Nashorn explained.

“I hope so. You know how it is; us and them…”

“Of course I do,”

“Good. Don’t forget it,” Farkash stated. With that he turned away from Nashorn and looked into the part of the forest that Zmija had disappeared into. After a minute or two she emerged from the forest. Niedźwiedź followed suit soon after. Then an owl flew down from the sky and landed behind the boulder, right next to a neatly folded pile of men’s clothing. Just as Sova had finished dressing himself, Hienă returned from the forest. She held a rabbit in her mouth as its blood dripped down her chin and onto her neck. Sova relayed his findings to Nashorn, who nodded in approval. They were on the correct road and slightly ahead of schedule.

“Alright, are we ready to move on?” Nashorn asked his group. Everyone nodded.

“Okay, let’s get back to it,” Nashorn ordered. The group began walking forward once again. Just as before, they walked in silence.

‘...Just playing a part…’ Nashorn thought to himself as his hand reached into his pocket and touched his sketchbook.