Prequel: “Freeday School Shenanigans: The Day Jonathan’s Goose Saved the Day (Finn's version)

 Prequel:  “Freeday School Shenanigans: The Day Jonathan’s Goose Saved the Day

Read Inez's version here...

Finn shifted on his cot, hands behind his head, smirking as he recalled the memory. “Ah, Roslynn, I should tell you the funniest story I’ve ever heard. Cracks me up everytime! The way Jonathan told it, with Inez rollin’ her eyes. And then the “true” version from Inez. Pure gold!”

So, this was back when Inez was still stuck in Freeday school, learning all about the gods and being, well… Inez. Always had her nose in a book, always asking too many questions, always carrying herself like she was just a little bit better than the rest of us—not in a mean way, just… Inez. Which, naturally, made her a prime target for the meaner kids.

There was this pack of girls—Inez called them the chimera, ‘cause they were like a three headed monster. Real nasty pieces of work, I think one was a second or third cousin of mine, always picking on the odd ones out. And Inez? Oh, she was prime pickings. Always reading, talked like she’d swallowed a dictionary. And let’s be honest—she had that particular brand of stubbornness that made her absolutely incapable of backing down. So, of course, the bullies took every chance to make her life miserable.

One fine morning, they cornered her in the courtyard after lessons. Started with the usual nonsense—calling her names, snatching her book, pushing her around just enough to remind her she was outnumbered.

And then, like the blessed fool he is, in stumbles Jonathan Wickham.

Now, Jonathan wasn’t even supposed to be there—he never took Freeday school too seriously. He only showed up when his parents forced him to, and even then, he’d usually sneak out early to tend his vegetable patch. But for whatever reason, he was there that day, and trailing right behind him was Gertrude.

Ah, Gertrude. His goose.

Not just any goose, mind you. This beast was the meanest, ugliest, most feral thing to ever waddle through Nook. White feathers all scruffy, a beak that looked like it had been carved from malice itself, and the attitude of a demon with a grudge. No one knew where Jonathan got her—probably wandered into his garden one day and refused to leave—but from that moment on, she was his shadow.

So there’s Inez, trying to fend off her tormentors with sheer stubbornness, when in comes Jonathan, all oblivious and well-meaning. He sees what’s happening and, in that big, soft heart of his, decides to intervene.

“Uh, hey now,” he says, all awkward-like, shifting from foot to foot. “Maybe, um… maybe you should leave her alone?”

The girls just laugh.

And Jonathan, bless him, tries again. “I mean, pickin’ on people isn’t very nice. Chislev teaches that, uh, we should be kind to all livin’ things.”

Now, that was the wrong move. Because these girls? They thrived on weakness. The moment they realized Jonathan was just as soft-hearted as Inez, they turned on him.

“Aww, look, it’s the little farmer boy come to rescue the gnome!” one of them sneered. “You gonna read us a bedtime story, too?”

Another one snickered. “Or are you just gonna trip over your own feet again?”

Now, normally, Jonathan would have tripped over his own feet—clumsy as he was, it was practically his signature move. But today? Today the universe had other plans.

If these girls thought they could pick a fight with Jonathan, and Gertrude—Jonathan’s monstrous, unpredictable, feathered companion—was going to let that slide...well they had the wrong idea.

Out steps that white demon beast, puffs out its chest and honked! Now, not just any honk. Oh no. This was the Honk of Doom.

Loud, shrill, vengeful.

And then, before anyone could react, Gertrude took flight. Straight at the lead bully. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a goose in attack mode, Roslynn, but it’s a sight to behold. Wings spread wide, beak open like she’s screamin’ war cries in her own foul language, feet kicking up dirt like she’s been summoned by the gods themselves. She didn’t just fly at that girl—she descended upon her like righteous fury incarnate.

And then, right as the bully shrieked and tried to duck—SPLAT.

A perfect, disgusting, vengeful pile of goose shit landed right on the girl’s head.

The courtyard went dead silent. Jonathan gasped. Inez gasped. The bullies gasped.

And then the girl screamed.

What followed was pandemonium. The other bullies scrambled away like rats abandoning a sinking ship, Gertrude flapped around like she was reveling in her victory, and Jonathan—completely horrified—started apologizing in a panicked mess of “Oh no, oh no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen, oh Chislev forgive me—” while simultaneously trying to catch his deranged bird.

And Inez?

She just stood there. Wide-eyed. Stunned. And then—because even she couldn’t fight it—she started to laugh. The bullies ran off, humiliated and covered in goose vengeance. Jonathan finally got Gertrude under control, still muttering frantic prayers to Chislev. And from that day forward, no one ever really messed with Inez again.

Because no one wanted to risk crossing The Goose of Doom.

Finn chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “And that, Roslynn, is the only time Jonathan Wickham ever won a fight. Completely by accident. With the help of an unhinged bird.”

Inez’s Tale: The Booklet and the Bargain

 Inez’s Tale: The Booklet and the Bargain

Read Finn's version here...

Dear diary,

Somehow I managed to get hold of a treasure! Let me tell you how.

With every year (‘Year’? Rephrase that into ‘day’, sweet diary!) my parents become more obsessed with i: finding me a ‘proper’ husband and ii: making sure I become/remain an acceptable candidate for such a husband. Where ‘proper’ here means: member of one of Nook’s core families or at least one in high esteem and wealth. That those clans are involved in all kinds of stuff that bite laws and morals (working in my father's practice has taught me more than school!) , is of secondary concern. Much much lower on the list of concerns are my wishes and  preferences. Oh dear diary, I despair of the idea of having to marry one of those overaged heirs of an  ancient clan or one of those bullying bounders!

To my surprise I was allowed schooling and even nowadays doctor Vexora Nibwhistle comes over once or twice a week to educate me. She was supposed to teach me practical stuff that would come useful in the solicitor’s practice, besides general knowledge and conversation, to assure that I would be a favorable talking partner for gnomish salons. 

Additionally my teacher of Gnomish etiquette, a dwarven gentleman by the name of Kragan Ironmantle (‘High keeper Ironmantle’) , would come over every Earthday morning. (Sometimes this frequency increased, as part of a punishment by my parents for once more not fitting to the image of a proper Gnomish lady). The High keeper and I would only agree on one thing, that there was not such a thing as Gnomish etiquette. In his eyes we, Gnomes, could at best try to imitate the high Dwarven culture. Despite my failings in etiquette of any kind, the old dwarf had a soft spot for me. I provided a grateful audience to his stories of Dwarven History and Nook’s past, and every now and then he let me attend gatherings in the dwarven halls in our city. “I’ve taught this young Gnomish lady enough of our old ways, that she could fool you into being a dwarf. Except for the beard of course! “ Well, dear diary, I must say when I was escorted by the high keeper, those dwarfs would treat me with respect and politely. In contrast with when they would visit my father’s practice!

Doctor Vexora was my favorite teacher though — strict and demanding, never just taking her fee but ensuring her students reached their full potential. It took quite a while for us to grow accustomed to each other. True trust was established as she found out that I am magically gifted and kept that between the two of us. Later on she shared the secret that she herself was gifted as well! During teaching sessions, when we had enough privacy, she would even tutor me on the first steps of wizardry. 

All in all homeschooling was one of the highlights of my youth. But what I liked best was shopping for delicacies! As I grew older, my task became selecting luxurious side dishes, to be served during visits of important customers. As my father took care of the stocking of drinks (Always taking care of quality by sampling) and my mother had to manage the practice (and my father), I had to hunt for special treats in shops and markets of Nook. Either my parents did not trust our staff for this, or they wanted me to get used to the role of housekeeper, or just to get me out of the house. With the added bonus that there was a chance I would meet a proper marriage-candidate... And to make sure that in that improbable event ‘nothing’ would actually happen, a chaperone was mandatory. Fortunately for my parents, Dame Velindra Tockwhistle was available for that task.

Dame Tockwhistle was born into a family far above our own, and my parents could hardly believe she was inclined to do this job. Though high born does not guarantee high income, and the dame became insolvent, traveling from Gnome settlement to settlement, hiding for creditors, staying at clanfolks. Our relationship was appalling, and the old hag guided me through Nook like I was Zibella "Trickfinger" Nocktonick, ready to make a run for it anytime! Shopping would be done as fast as possible, afterwards we would visit the ‘Gilded Kettle’ and have tea with one of her acquaintances. Worst case, that acquaintance brought in a marriable grandson that I needed to entertain (only in proper ways, of course, diary!). 

Things improved dramatically as I caught her coming out of our home’s wine cellar, hiding some bottles in her gown. From that moment I was in charge of what shops we would visit to buy which delicatesse. We agreed on continuing visiting the teahouse, but no grandsons would be invited. Additionally we would take turns: I would guard the door at the pawn shops as  Dame Zibella had her dealings there, she would do the same as I visited the bookstores, hunting for books on magic.

Today, we went to visit the farmers market. Every other week this gathering at the town square of Nook allows farmers and locals to sell their stuff. Which leads to a hodgepodge of offerings, varying strongly both in category as in quality.  This morning we were in luck, within the hour I managed to obtain a week’s ration of charcuterie and cheese. And for a bargain, leaving me with a budget for personal shopping. Dame Zibella was also in a good mood, having secured some old jewelry for a steal. And enough time for our own explorations, in search of money at the pawnbrokers, for me in search of anything that could support my inquiries into hermeticism.

Strolling the market I spotted a little corner stall, where a halfling instigator had set up his wares. Approaching he looked familiar in a way, but I could not quite remember from what occasion. “Ah, my lady, I see that the stall over there is one you probably will indulge in. Let me wait here for you, this one is more my taste” said Dame Zibella to me as we passed a booth where a, also dubious looking, gnome was trading clockworks and magical trinkets. As many gnomes of age she was enamored with that kind of thing. Diary, I never will understand why gnomes do fancy magical paraphernalia, but loathe wizards and the study of sorcery!

The halfling lad seemed to recognize me, which was odd and a bit flattery (No further comments, diary), and after I greeted him gracefully, I started browsing the assortment. There were lots of old books and baubles, a strange collection for a halfling commoner. As I had handled some papers regarding the passing away of an old half elf and the sale of his house, I laid the connection with this assortment. Reading the covers of books, enquiring after the supplier and origins, he and I got into a curious conversation. Then I spotted, almost felt, the presence of a little black book. Picking it up, the book seemed to whisper to me. Excitedly I asked:  “Where did you get this? Do you know what these symbols mean?” Naturally my salesman had no real answers, other than that he did not read himself and did not work for free. 

That’s when I remembered where I knew him from. He was the young halfling who advised me years ago after a clash with some bullies at the Free Library of Oghma. I asked him if we’ve met before, he shrewdly replied that I had to improve on my pick up lines (Ha ha, diary). So, I inquired about the price of the booklet and he named a rather high price for a trinket, but I desperately needed to buy this and had double the amount in my purse. 

Nevertheless a plan came into my head that I wanted to put this halfling boy to the test. With the saddest face my gnome countenance could come up with, I looked at him, lowered my eyes, kept squinting them until half a tear had formed in the corner of each eye, then looked him in the eyes (As my father would say, “With that sad look,  you could make a fire dragon weep hailstones”). “I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of money, dear sir.” In his defense I must say that he did not give in right away. And that unlike many halfling clients of my fathers, he did not suggest I pay in ‘another way’. But he did give in, dear diary, he did give in.

Handing him the amount we agreed on (about half of the first bid), I introduced myself formally. “I know who you are, gnome lady, like you said, we’ve met before.”, he responded, “That time your eyes were filled with tears as well. But you seem to smarten up rapidly now you’ve obtained your little book!”. Did he see me through? Not sure he did, sweet diary. He told me his name was Finn, a member of the Slynt clan (which I only knew personally from their shop, as the clan itself was quite infamous in Nook). Since I felt a bit sorry for deceiving him (he really passed the test!), and considering that cheating a Slynt-clan-member could have serious repercussions (but as Azuth is my witness, the first point was much more important to me!), I asked if there was any service I could provide (Yes diary, that was not a very proper proposition, I know.). Luckily he ignored this (qualified again!) stating that he “Did not trust the posh, as ‘a dragon will collect your gold, no matter its scales.’ But it’s not every day that you get charmed by a Song Dragon”. This left me blushing and an awkward silence fell for a moment.

 “So, this booklet, is it something important for you?” “Well, it might.” Then suddenly feeling a trust between the two of us I added, “Could be my way out of an arranged marriage to a posh gnome upper class spouse. Would mean leaving Nook as well.” Then he says, “Fine, if you ever leave, you take me with you. That’s part of the discount!”.

With that he had me blushing even more, sweet diary. I was ‘rescued’ by Dame Tockwhistle, who was apparently tired of waiting. Hearing her steps, I hid the booklet into my dress and hissed “I accept that arrangement, master Finn, now I’ve got to hurry!”. I was just in time to prevent my governess from seeing the booklet or take a good look at the shopkeeper, hurrying past her to another stall. As she joined me, walking arm in arm, she probed provocatively “My young lady, your interests in men seem to broaden these days?” But I was prepared, and replied wittingly with a little gnomish obscenity: “Well, better a pair of hairy feet in your bed than an empty one!” Which seemed to put her off for that moment.

And so I managed to secure a true wizard’s notebook, my dear diary! If this booklet is what I think it is, then leaving Nook might not just be a dream anymore...

Finn’s Tale: The Booklet and the Bargain

 Finn’s Tale: The Booklet and the Bargain

Read Inez's version here...

The prison’s airing yard stank of sweat and damp stone. Finn sat on a low ledge by the wall, rolling a splinter of wood between his fingers, eyes drifting over the yard. Then he saw them—two figures passing by. A young woman, sharp-eyed, walking with a stiff-backed older woman. The younger one moved like she owned the ground she stepped on, the older one like she was there to make sure no one forgot their place.

Finn smirked.

He shifted slightly, and a soft rustling came from his coat pocket. Roslynn, his ever-loyal cellmate, poked her twitching nose out. Her beady black eyes gleamed up at him. “Would’ve liked her,” Finn murmured. “A lot of people didn’t, but you? You would’ve seen the charm.”

Roslynn wriggled her whiskers.

Finn let his head fall back against the cold stone wall. His fingers absentmindedly brushed over the rat’s fur as he let himself sink into the memory. “It started with an old half-elf,” Finn muttered, voice low. “Quiet type. Lived alone. Then one day, he just… didn’t anymore.” No real family, just some distant relations who wanted his house gone as quickly as possible. Finn had overheard the deal being struck—cheap sale, no interest in what was left inside. It was practically an invitation.

He’d slipped in one night, took his time picking through the place. The best pieces—some furniture, a few old baubles—he passed along to the Slynt family. The kind of goods that could move quick and clean. That left him with the odds and ends. Antiques, dusty books, old scraps of parchment filled with scribbles. No immediate buyers for that kind of junk, so he packed it up and set himself a little corner in the farmers’ market, hoping to turn them into coin.

And that’s when she found him.

She had changed since the last time he’d seen her. The girl he remembered was scrawny, tear-streaked, and furious, standing outside the Free Library after a mixed group of school girls had made her life hell. He’d told her the hard truth, back then: Hide, fight back, or pay someone bigger to fight for you.

Now here she was, years later, standing at his stall, confident and composed.

And, to Finn’s mild surprise, beautiful.

Naturally, he kept his cool.

She moved through his wares with a careful, almost knowing touch. Then she stopped. Her fingers brushed over a small black booklet. She picked it up slowly, as if something about it whispered to her.

‘Where did you get this?’ she asked, voice quiet but urgent. ‘Do you know what these symbols mean?’ Finn had no idea, but he wasn’t about to say that. He shrugged, leaning lazily against the stall.

‘I don’t work for free, lady.’

She studied him. Then, out of nowhere, she sighed—a delicate, forlorn little sound.

‘I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of money, dear sir.’

Finn felt something twist in his chest. He swallowed, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his neck.

Was this… flirting? It felt like flirting. Or maybe just a posh-girl trick. Either way, he wasn’t about to look like a fool in front of her. He crossed his arms, keeping his expression unreadable. ‘Price is fair,’ he said. ‘Rare book, that one.’ She held his gaze. Her lips parted slightly. Finn felt… something. Something he wasn’t prepared for.

And then—then, just for a flicker of a moment, she looked almost pleased with herself.

Finn’s stomach did something strange.

He had no idea what game they were playing, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to be the one to back down first. They haggled. He postured. He acted like he knew exactly what was happening, when in reality, he was just trying to keep his wits about him because she was entirely too pretty and entirely too self-assured.

By the end of it, she still managed to get the damn book for half of what he’d originally asked.

As he handed it over, she gave him a polite little nod. ‘Inez Systemix,’ she said, formal as anything.

Finn raised a brow. ‘I know who you are, gnome lady. Like you said, we’ve met before. Last time your eyes were filled with tears, too. But you seem to smarten up rapidly now that you’ve got your little book.’

Something flickered across her face—something unreadable.

Finn, of course, assumed he had just delivered a particularly smooth line.

‘So, this booklet—important to you, is it?’

She hesitated. Then, softer, more thoughtful, she said, ‘Could be my way out of an arranged marriage to a posh gnome upper-class spouse. Would mean leaving Nook as well.’ Finn had no idea why he said what he said next. Maybe it was bravado. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was just the fact that she was beautiful, and he didn’t want to look like some useless market peddler in front of her.

‘Fine,’ he said, grinning. ‘If you ever leave, you take me with you. That’s part of the discount.’

She went red.

Finn had no idea why that pleased him, but it did.

Then her chaperone’s footsteps thundered toward them, and she panicked. She shoved the book into her dress, hissed, ‘I accept that arrangement, master Finn, now I’ve got to hurry!’ and bolted.

Her keeper barely had time to turn before Inez had vanished into the crowd.

Finn had stood there for a moment, blinking.

Then, slowly, he’d grinned.

Finn exhaled, shaking himself back to the present.

Roslynn twitched her whiskers, curling tighter into his coat.

You ever wonder,” he muttered, voice just for her, “if there’s people out there who change the course of your life without even knowing it?”

The rat, naturally, didn’t answer.

Finn smirked to himself, brushing a finger lightly over her fur.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me neither.”