Chapter 7
Time heals all wounds, no matter their size, no matter their depth. Victor and William were no exception: their trauma vanished into the ethereal mists of mundanity, as the preparations for the campaign pressed ever forwards. Fifteen days passed without much out of the ordinary, training under Eric’s watchful eyes in addition to regular work, never without one another; they worked better when blessed with the other’s company.
* * *
Victor arose from his bed with a satisfied yawn. A downpour besieged the roof above; a peaceful sound that he’d love to fall asleep to. A quick look around the room revealed him as the lone soul awake . Leaving the room early wasn't in the cards; the rickety door leading out never failed to screech whenever it was opened, and Victor was all too familiar with how annoying having one’s dreams interrupted was.
Nothing to do, but to wait for the caretaker. Victor changed out of his night clothing, and sat on his bed. He pondered the horizon; five days until the expedition would begin. Just a few more days, and he would set his first foot outside of Ravens Hill Province within the last eight years. He smiled at the thought. After all this time, the world beyond had become a mystery to him. Stories of giant waterfalls, mushroom groves, and untraversable woods had become something spoken about in legends alone. Can places like that truly exist?
He didn’t have long to dwell on it, however. The door flung open, hard enough for it to hit and bounce off the wall. Victor shielded his eyes from the brightness coming from beyond. The piercing sound of that dreaded whistle ripping through the quarters right after.
“Wake up, wake up! Get yourselves ready for roll call!”
The now awakened Initiates groaned. It was the typical morning, except now Victor got to see how comedic it actually was: The Initiates struggled to wake up, some almost falling over themselves as they set their first foot out of bed. With visceral anger laid bare on their faces, they got up, yanked off their night clothing, and threw them aside for their regular attire.
Victor understood them, though. After all, he wouldn’t be any different on a regular morning. But today wasn’t a regular morning.. He felt fresh for the day to come, regardless of it being another day of preparation. Still, it didn’t stop Victor from fantasising what the preparations were intended for. His spirit held high, he pressed forth to roll call.
* * *
“Everyone is present. Now then, there is nothing new to inform you lot of. Business as usual today. Preparations, bulletin work, that sort of thing. That is all. Now go.”
Victor sighed. Same life-draining morning routine, different day. The only reason anyone attended was because of what would happen to those absent without reason: A humiliation session before the entire guild, courtesy of the guildmaster, and a warning that the next time will result in them getting the boot. Three days earlier, it struck; the poor kid spent the day crying in the quarters.
At least breakfast will be different. Victor’s stomach growled. It was time to eat, if this were an ordinary day. The hand which tapped his shoulder as he entered the mess hall confirmed this wasn’t an ordinary day, however. “‘ey, Vic. Me and Will are having breakfast in the city. Are you coming with us?” said Eric. William stood by his side, hands behind his back.
“Sure, why not. It’s not like I’d be missing much,” said Victor. The food the guild served was several shades of bland. Whenever the opportunity arose to eat elsewhere, most guild members took it, even if it meant they had to pay for their food.
The three were greeted by the warm rays of the sun as they left headquarters. The skies were mostly clear, safe for the occasional cloud marching across the azure. Passing through the crowded streets, they made their way eastwards, to the Yellow District. Unlike most of the city, the streets here were clean and tidy. Street cleaners were hard at work, polishing the already spotless streets. The whole district, from the friendly, modestly clothed people, to the pleasant air, was agreeable.
‘Spring Breeze Tavern’ read the name on the sign. Victor glanced into one of the windows, which revealed a packed interior. He sighed. At least it’s not as cheap of a place as The Laughing Lizard.
The company entered the tavern, and sat at the lone empty table. A waiter took their order soon afterwards, and promised their wait would be swift. During this wait, Eric talked to William alone, which Victor didn’t understand. It was all small talk though, and thus Victor didn’t pay much attention to them.
Victor spent the wait looking around the tavern. If there were any doubts remaining about the classy nature of the Yellow District, one glance at the surroundings put those doubts to rest. The place sparkled with modesty, whether it be the quiet patrons, the complete lack of any dirtiness in sight, or the images of peaceful meadows pictured on the walls. A far cry from the dirt and grime infesting the other districts of Ravens Hill.
As promised, the waiter returned swiftly, with a serving platter in his hands. Victor tasted the richness of the breakfast just by looking at it: Scrambled eggs mixed with pickled onions, served on top of buttered whole wheat bread, along with a mug of fresh orange juice. He didn’t hesitate a moment with stuffing his mouth full of bread and eggs.
“Vic, do you mind calming down a little? We’re not in a hurry now, are we?” Eric laughed a few minutes later.
Victor glanced at his plate. Save for a few crumbs, the plate was empty. He then used a finger to scrape around his mouth. Sure enough, it was caked in grease. “Does anyone have a napkin here?”
Eric held a hand before his mouth. “Right in front of you,” he said, pointing towards a folded blue napkin on the table.
Victor unfolded the napkin by dangling it out to his side with one hand. The napkin was light blue, spare for the rim and a pattern meant to resemble a flower, which were a darker shade of blue. Victor pressed the napkin against his face. “Did I really eat it all so quickly?” he asked, his voice muffled by the napkin as he rubbed it across his mouth.
The so far quiet William now laughed as well. “Eat it? ‘Breathing it in’ would be more accurate, Victor.”
“You’re a real treat, Vic. You know that, right?”
Victor’s cheeks reddened. He imagined what the other patrons were thinking of him, and bit at his cheeks. His friends, however, continued to laugh; it was all lighthearted humor for them, something he would beg to differ with.
Instead of letting his embarrassment continue, Victor changed the subject. “Anyway, what exactly are we doing today, Eric? You haven’t said anything about it yet.”
Eric took a large gulp from his mug. “Aah, now that hits the spot.” He wiped his mouth with a different napkin, and reached back for his mug. “It’s a secret, Vic,” he said, as he lifted the mug to his lips.
“A ‘secret’...? The abyss is this? What’s the need for secrecy now?” said Victor in a hushed tone.
“You’ll see when we get there. Let’s just say it involves an abandoned building, and leave it at that for now, yes?”
Victor reluctantly nodded. Exploring a derelict building would be a welcome break from the nonstop patrol and guard duties they’ve been running, that much was certain. He still didn’t understand what the problem with talking about it in public was, but Eric had to have his reasons.
* * *
After finishing and paying for their meals, Eric guided them to the building they were to clear out, not far removed from the guild headquarters. Even though it was in plain view, the building was well and truly abandoned: The frontal garden had transformed an unkempt wilderness of weeds. The red paint of the door was chipped off in various places, and the steps leading to the door had been damaged by rain. A shadow of its former glory, a tombstone to a long gone society.
“W-wait! Isn’t this place haunted?” William asked.
“Oh, that’s just a dumb rumour the imperials spread to keep people away from these old temples. Don’t worry about it. You know how superstitious people are,” Eric said. William replied with a slow, jittery nod.
“Hold on. I got this.” Eric fished a keyring containing two dozen keys out of his pocket as the company walked to the temple door. He then fumbled with the keys. One minute passed by. Nothing. Two minutes. Still nothing. Three minutes. Still searching. Four minutes.
“Son of a-!”
The keyring clattered against the steps and fell into an overgrown bush. Victor chuckled at his expense, as he reached into the bush with his hand to feel for the keys.
“Laugh all you like, just be glad you don’t have to play around with this blasted thing!” said Eric, jangling the keys about as he pulled them out of the bush.
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The search continued. Five minutes. Still nothing. Six minutes. Finally, the lock on the door gave way to the right key, and the door shifted backwards. The way into the temple’s vestibule lay exposed before them.
Inside, the temple was in pristine condition for the most part, the thick layers of dust on everything within sight reminding the company no one has set foot into this building in years. The vestibule was empty, its purpose as a place one would leave their shoes behind being unapparent to those unfamiliar with the faith. In Draconism, one does not pray wearing their dirty shoes. They would be taken off before service, so that the faithful did not insult Divinity and dragonkind by dirtying a monument to their glory as they prayed.
The company, however, had not come here to pray, and so they pressed onwards into the main hall, their shoes still firm on their feet. Rows of beautiful wooden benches were arranged on the marble floor, facing an altar in the back of the temple, far grander than an outside view let one to believe. The walls were covered in artworks picturing dragons engaging in heroic deeds, such as saving people from burning buildings, or protecting them against demonic figures. Even eight years on, there hung a sense of mystique in the air.
Victor, without being aware of it, walked towards the altar, William sauntering along behind in similar dreamlike fashion. Candles decorated the altar, arrayed in the shape of a dragon. It lacked in dust compared to everything else: the benches, the small dragon statues perched by the hallway, all were covered from top to bottom. Victor placed his hand on the altar. A warm sensation ran through his veins. Visions of a red creature appeared in his mind, staring at him with blue slit-eyes. Then, a voice spoke:
“Hey, you two, are you going to help me or what?”
The two Initiates backed away from the altar. They turned around to see Eric standing in between the rows of benches with his arms folded, his face carrying a slight frown.
“I take that as a ‘yes’. Now then, enough fumbling around with ancient religions, let’s clear this place up.”
Eric guided the two down a corridor into a study; Numerous bookshelves filled with dusty books were arrayed against the walls, mostly full barring a few voids. Dusty tables with accompanying rickety chairs were also present.
“Right, here we are,” Eric said, laying a few fingers on one of the books. He dragged his fingers down the side, leaving behind a clean trail where eight years of dust had previously accumulated. “We have to get these books prepared for removal later.”
“But… how do we do that, then?” asked William.
“‘s pretty simple, really. Just pile ‘em up at the entrance. Nice and easy. Besides, it’s not like there’s anything important going on down there, is there?”
Victor wasn’t impressed. All this hassle about keeping something so mundane as cleaning out an abandoned building a secret? Really? “Is this seriously important enough to keep secret, Eric? We’re cleaning out some dusty old temple, that’s it!”
Eric bit his cheek. “...Okay, I suppose I owe you a little explanation. Long story short, the guildmaster personally requested me to do this for him, and to keep it a secret, too. I don’t know why, but he offered good pay for it, so there you go.”
It was enough for Victor to calm down. As far as he was concerned, the promise of a solid paycheck got him onboard, even if it was silly for a member of Civil Defense to work as a glorified caretaker. Eric then nervously asked the two to keep this a secret, which both agreed to. With the initiates put to work, Eric bid his leave.
The two initiates slowly carried the many books towards the vestibule. The task was far dirtier than either expected, given the sheer volume of dust the books had gathered over the years. Every book dropped sent dust into the air, which amalgamated into an ever growing cloud as the two kept flinging books onto the floor. William attempted to fix the problem by leaving the temple door ajar, a solution that did stop the cloud from expanding any further, but did little to cut down its size.
Victor then added a few books extra to his routine, which turned out to be a bridge too far. The dust kicked up sent particles flying into his face, into his nose, down into his throat. He hacked and coughed, his throat now bone dry and nose teeming with the scent of old paper.
After wiping his face clean of any remaining specks of time’s residue, Victor glanced at the pile of books. He didn’t know why, but he became curious as to what these books were that he had been carelessly slinging about like garbage.
Victor grabbed a book from the pile. There was still a good amount of dust cluttering the cover, which Victor wiped off with a few quick strokes of his hand. With the debris removed, the book’s name came into view:
“Draconism : The Early Years”
Victor flipped through the book for a bit. It appeared to be a romanticisation based on what he assumed were important figures in the Draconist religion. The main character was a man named Reval, who came from a similar farmer’s background as him, who one day received a call from Divinity to come to the Origin mountains. There, he was warned of a great evil threatening to destroy Lokahn, and he alone could save the land from annihilation.
It was interesting enough to make Victor want to read further, but that opened up the matter of getting the book out of the building without anyone seeing it. His bag was beside his bed still, and there was no chance the book would fit in his pockets. He thought the matter through, but alas: he couldn’t think of a way. Disappointed, Victor closed the book, and placed it back down on the stack.
Suddenly, a loud commotion came from outside the temple. Someone yelled loud enough for their voice to be audible through the thick temple doors, but not clear enough to pinpoint a particular voice. Then, footsteps became louder and louder. The door burst wide open; in ran a figure. It was Eric.
“Victor!! You have to come, fast!!” yelled Eric at the top of his lungs, eyes perched wide open in clear distress. He heaved as if he had ran up ten flights of stairs. “NOW!! Before it’s too late!!”
Victor folded his arms. That was a rather short ‘personal business’. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on first. You’ve left just a moment ago, now you run back in looking like you’ve seen a ghost. What in the Divine’s name is going on, Eric?”
“It’s the dragons, Vic!! The dragons!! They’re attacking and burning Riverside to the ground right now!!”
The revelation was akin to a dagger slicing through his abdomen. The world crumbled all around. He found himself alone in the middle of Riverside, the air filled with smoke and the crackling of burning wood. Around him, the homes of people he had known for years were burning to a crisp.
A monstrous roar sounded overhead. Victor looked up in time for a massive red beast to cast its shadow over him. The beast spat out a jet of flame, torching the home directly in front of Victor. The building was engulfed in a flash, and it was then Victor realised: It was his home. Echoes of his mother and sister cracked the skies, as they burned.
“AAAAAAAUUUUUGH!”
In the blink of an eye, Victor ran past the hyperventilating Eric through the open door, screaming as a madman. Eric took off after him, with William scrambling to keep up far behind.
“Please, let us through!!”
Victor and Eric were begging the guardsmen at the Summer Gate to let them through as William caught up with them. From a distance, they were reminiscent of the pathetic swindlers in the Green District, begging on their knees for pocket change. “Look, it’s not safe out there. Let the army deal with this, we can’t lose you guys,” said one of the guardsmen.
Eric rose off of his knees. “Our families are there! We don’t want them to end up as a dragon’s lunch! Let us through, I’ll gladly die to protect my family!”
One of the other guardsmen, who had come down from the walls spoke up. “Ugh… fine. If you really want to throw your lives away like that, go ahead.”
The guard reached for the chain to raise the portcullis. His brother in arms didn’t look pleased. “Are you serious? The guildmaster will have our heads if he finds out about this!”
“Listen, Johnson. Their families are there. Even if it’s suicidal, you can’t blame them for wanting to check up on them,” said the other guard. He then turned to the group of his fellow soldiers. “Isn’t that right?” All replied back with a nod and a reserved ‘yeah’.
“Okay, okay. I get it,” said the lone protesting guard. “I’m not taking responsibility for any of this however, you hear me?”
“Yeah, whatever.” The guard tugged on the chain. The portcullis shot upwards, and in the blink of an eye, Victor and Eric were gone with the wind, William running after them.
* * *
Victor’s mind raced as he sprinted towards Riverside. It felt as if there were a ghost beside him, beating his soul as if it were a drum at a parade. Every step through the endless expanse of trees flanking the road made his blood boil with greater intensity. Though he used every bit of strength in his legs to run, they wouldn’t tire out whatsoever.
After over an hour of dashing through the misty woods, they reached Riverside. There, he and his companions were greeted by a sight which raised far more questions than it answered.