CHAPTER 36 – THE BEGGAR’S GIFT


    On the road, Mitakahn and Anilithion crossed paths with a sorted cast of passersby. The first of which was a long bearded old fellow and his scraggly dog. Clearly, they were wanderers and part of the Canine Kingdom. To Mitakahn, they looked like the atypical pair of wanderers. If he was back at Zepathorum, in the hall of records, looking at a book defining the kingdoms, Mitakahn firmly believed this image would be on the title page for the Canine Kingdom, the wanderer and his companion.


    Another passerby was a very big, robust man, wearing dark fur and taking massive, heavy steps on the road. Anilithion covered brief glances at the stress fractures that the large man left on the stone after he passed. If Mitakahn were to guess what kingdom he hailed from, he would most certainly guess the Bear Kingdom; for he could have been Humbler’s brother; they looked so much alike.


    When the sun was halfway across the sky, Mitakahn and Anilithion decided to have a quick meal while walking. Mitakahn rustled through his bag looking for something to eat. “We still have this.” He pulled out the bread he took from just yesterday and handed it to Anilithion. He also took out some dried fruits.


    They came across a beggar on the side of the road. He was keeled over and pulled at the robes of the men walking ahead of them. Mitakahn could not help but feel sorry for the man. As they passed, the man beseeched them.


    “Could you spare some food? Please, I beg of you.”


    Without hesitation, Anilithion tore him off a chunk of bread, “Epitome of grace.”


    The peculiar stranger devoured the bread. He ate it as if it had come fresh out of the baking kiln. He truly appreciated it and Mitakahn recognized the familiar feeling. When there is nothing in this world except yourself and nourishment. The beggar spared no time consuming the bread and spared not a single crumb for the ground.


    “Thank you, I am Descallion,” he replied.


    The cousins introduced themselves by alternate identities, careful not to let on that they were both princes. Anilithion introduced the two, “I am Rosin, and this is Amkor.”


    Mitakahn followed him up with, “We hail from a small town in the Burning Mountains,” as he pointed to the same general area that he found Chronis.


    “Blessed be that humble small town by the old gods and the new. You would be shocked to hear how many people walked by me before you. I owe you my life. I wish there was some way I could repay you.”


    “Oh, don’t worry about it,” relieved Anilithion. “That bread was not exactly prime.”


    “No, I insist,” said Descallion as he went through his bag looking for something. Anilithion looked over at Mitakahn and stifled some giddy laughter before refocusing on the grab bag. For a while, he searched, but after losing all earnestness, he gave up. He stared up into the air above Mitakahn and Anilithion still sitting down and eating, his peculiar nature beginning to surface. “Oh! I know!” He twisted himself around, unstrapped his cloak, folded it sloppily, and handed it over to Anilithion. “It’s okay,” Anilithion hesitated, “I have my own cloak.”


    “But you don’t understand,” Descallion held out for them to see, “this is no ordinary cloak. It is a magical cloak. You must take it, or I will consider it an insult!”


    They took a good look at it, a standard brown cloak with patches, no frills, or pockets. The only identifiable quality was the hole next to the bottom right corner. At closer look, it could not even be confirmed that the cloak was actually brown and not just severely dirty.


    Anilithion whispered to Mitakahn, “I feel like I can smell it.”Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Mitakahn tried to hide his laughter, “I don’t think you have a choice, cousin.”


    Anilithion took it from the crazy beggar. He just stared back at Anilithion with this awkward smile, as if he expected something in return. And then in a moment of pure bewilderment Mitakahn watched his cousin give the beggar his own royal Metuchen cloak, made of the finest brown shorlin threads. Descallion thanked Anilithion and just like that he was out of their lives forever.


    “Why did you do that?” asked Mitakahn.


    “What!? You practically told me to!”


    Mitakahn busted out laughing, almost keeling over, holding his sides.


    “I didn’t think he was going to leave us alone unless I did something. My cloak!” he cried.


    “I’m sorry, Ani. I admit that it got out of hand. I was only teasing. But you do have a kingly way with people.”


    Anilithion threw the strange cloak over his shoulder. Their next stretch of walking was not over until sundown. This time they quickly set up camp and built a fire. Like clockwork, they had their shelter erected, fire started, and dinner served in record time.


    The days went on like this for some time. After three days of uneventful walking and camping, Mitakahn and Anilithion were once again getting ready for another night’s sleep. Mitakahn prepared the fire. He cracked the flint with his knife and the spark landed on the gragnyre fleece, lighting the fire. Before they set out for another hunt, Mitakahn caught Anilithion staring at the ragged cloak. He was holding the patchy cape in his hands deep in thought. And then, to Mitakahn’s utter surprise, Anilithion threw the cloak into the fire.


    “What are you doing!?”


    “I’m not wearing that thing. I can just pick a new one up the next time we cross paths with a merchant.”


    Mitakahn could not argue with his cousin’s logic, only something odd was occurring in the fire.


    “That’s impossible,” remarked Anilithion, “It’s been in the fire for more than enough time. Why doesn’t it burn?”


    They both looked at the beggar’s cloak in the fire. It sat in the center of the flames, unscathed. Mitakahn summoned his gauntlet and removed the cloak from the fire. It was stone-cold.


    “It appears to be fireproof.”


    “This is unbelievable,” confessed Anilithion as he went to test its unnatural power himself. He wrapped it around his hand. After it was securely wrapped, he stuck his cloak-covered hand in the fire and pulled out a log completely covered in fame. It was fireproof. “Do you think he knew that it possessed such a special property?” asked Anilithion.


    “He did say it was magic,” Mitakahn ironically jested.


    They looked in amazement at the new gift Anilithion had acquired.


    They talked for a while beside the fire. Mostly, they talked about the weirdness in the world lately. “We should be coming up on Towerock tomorrow…or soon. I mean…it’s not like we’re lost,” thought Mitakahn out loud.


    “Of course not, there is only one way to go, east. And that is,” Anilithion pointed down the road, “that way until we come up on Towerock. What is it like?”


    “Towerock is the ancient ruins of the canine kingdom’s capital. Although, it’s been such a long time since its fall that even in death it still lives.”


    “What does that mean?”


    “You haven’t spent much time with the wanderer race have you? My friend Excelsior spared little detail in the history of his people. They are a nomadic people, so their cities are built in flux.”


    “Flux?”


    “Towerock and Epitaph City are more like assemblies than cities. No one house takes up permanent residence or declares ownership over property. It’s actually extremely fascinating.”


    “So, they just share the cities?”


    Mitakahn smiled back at Anilithion putting it together. “They share the cities.”


    “Seems like a waste of time when you can just go to Crucifire Plains.”


    “Well, you are explaining exactly what the modern world has brought the canine kingdom to. When their line of kings ended their people never stopped migrating. Most of which went to the largest city on earth. Now Towerock and Epitaph City are flourishing with history and deprived of activity, which makes them the perfect places for my mission.”