The town of Fagravik is bustling with activity as the sun reaches its apex, radiating the fresh warmth of spring. The wind which was picking up earlier during the morning is now all but gone. This cool, spring weather brings more traffic to the now bustling market of the town.
Fagravik is the major trading hub of the North and more ships have begun to dock in the now iceless harbour. Travelers and merchants from all over the Southern Kingdoms bring strange trading goods which sell at exorbitant prices to both citizens and entrepreneurs. New stalls set up shop along the main road of the town and begin selling their wares to unassuming consumers. Shouts of barter bring new life into the city after a period of silence during the long and cold winter, as the locals now begin to venture outside more often to take in the sights and warmer weather.
You, your sister, and your mother are walking along the gravel path leading into town. The trips to town have always excited you, especially the grand opening after a long winter. The winter markets are a lot more boring than the spring and summer ones, as the warmer weather and clear ocean brings in travelers from all over the world to tell their exciting stories of adventuring. Your father decided to stay at home to prep the farm for the coming season, but all three of you know that he simply didn't want to witness the spectacle of the busy market.
"What do you want to do at the market today, Thorfinn?" asks your mother.
"Talk with people, of course!" you answer excitedly. "And look at the weird stuff they try to sell, it's always interesting to try to guess what it is."
"Hmm... Well, I got my sights on something much grander! Last summer a merchant all the way from... Well, some kingdom in the south; peddled the most amazing silk I've ever seen. Oh, it's so smooth on my skin, it makes me feel so young again," Idunn says with excitement.
You remember the piece of silk vividly, as it was quite the topic for a while in your household. Your father is adamant about not bringing "pointless" items into the household and you recall his words quite well. "What's the point of this overpriced mumbo jumbo? Does it plow a field? Does it bestow ancient magical powers? Can it sing a song as beautiful as the birds outside my window?" You mother did of course not appreciate the words, and eventually your father relented and let mother have the small victory.
The entry into town is nothing spectacular. An old unfinished wooden palisade surrounds a small portion of the town as it was built with haste during the last war. A makeshift gate with two guards stands watch at one of the openings. Something resembling a moat runs alongside the shoddily constructed palisade, but you reach the conclusion that any army could easily either simply go around it or actually climb out of the moat with ease if they were to attack from the front. According to your mother, the last war had ended prematurely, and thus all the war efforts were promptly halted. With the untimely death of the last king, the opposing faction was declared the victor as the succession was anything but clear. The old king had no living kin left, which would have left the kingdom in turmoil. Therefore it was voted to be assimilated into the other northern kingdom, uniting the two. Even after the two kingdoms were officially "united" under one banner, many were still upset over the arrangement and most still see the two as separate sovereign nations.
One of the guards at the gate spot your entourage and starts approaching you with determined steps.
"Halt! State your name and business in town!" the guard exclaims in a high-pitched tone. You don't recognize the guard, which is quite rare as most natives in town know each other.
Before you can speak, your mother steps forward.
"What the fuck?" remarks Idunn with a puzzled and angry face while approaching the young guard.
Before the brazen guard can do anything in retaliation, the older guard runs up to the scene.
"Trygve, what in blazes name are you doing, you idiot? She's one of us," he exclaims and smacks the young guard on the back of his head.
"But, sir, I must officially document the intent of every passer-by's name and business before entering town. As is decreed by the king," Trygve explains.
"New ki-..." the older guard looks at Trygve with condescending eyes and gives him a kick on the shin. "Get the fuck back to the gate and grow some damn balls. The new "king" is on the other side of the continent and hasn't visited even once."
Muttering under his breath, Trygve starts walking back to the gate in defeat.
"What are they teaching kids these days..." the older guard remarks. "Sorry about that. It's the boy's first day on the job. He has a long way to go before he can do any real work around here. Came on one of the ships the other day. Apparently our "king" wants to supply us with a fresh workforce, whatever that means. Probably one of his distant relatives that he's trying to get rid of."
"The king sent him all the way here?" Idunn asks. "That sounds weird. He has never shown any interest in this land during the twenty years of his rule."
"Aye, something is fishy alright. A whole bunch of them arrived on that ship, with the majority now stationed in the city guard. They work for basically free, so it was hard not to employ them. But enough about that, how you been? Haven't seen you around for a while," the guard stops to look at you. "And you! I hope you haven't been slacking on your sword training, with me being busy and all," he continues with a grin.
"A thousand swings every day, just as you told me to," you reply with a fist raised in the air. "One day I'll beat even you, Einarr!"
"Hah!" Einarr laughs. "Maybe one day you'll beat your cow in a duel, you brat."
A cow? you think to yourself. I can beat a cow... Probably. Maybe a pig.
Einarr gives you a strong thud on the back, which sends you reeling forward. "You'll get there, kid. You have potential. That coupled with that ridiculous physique you inherited from your parents, and you'll be beating the strongest of us in no time."
"That is if I'll ever be able to use it outside of practice..." you say solemnly.
Einarr looks at you with calculating eyes.
"Anyway," he continues. "Go ahead into town, there's a ton of new merchants and travelers from all over visiting now since the ice has begun to melt. There's even an envoy from the Kingdom of Aemeria visiting today, so be on the lookout for them if you want to see some real warriors."
Aemeria! you think to yourself. The land of the sword saints, where the best of the best swordsmen come from!
Your mother starts walking toward the town.
"Kingdom this, kingdom that. Let's go find that fancy silk instead of worrying about some political nonsense. Aah, the way it just flows down your skin in the mornings. I simply must have more!" Idunn revels as she waves Einarr goodbye.
"Onwards!" Saga exclaims, following closely behind your mother.
You and your family continue toward the city-centre. Along the main road are lines of merchants peddling their wares, trying to lure in costumers with empty promises and discounts which seem too preposterous to be true. The stalls are ladened with fancy looking wares which you have never seen before, leaving you in an entranced stare while taking in the rare sights. Your mother and Saga get separated from you as you stop to stare at some of the stalls.
You continue down the main street while avoiding the thickening crowd as you weave through the masses. Voices drown out all sounds of nature as you watch foreigners peddle their wares to unassuming locals who know nothing of their actual prices. You notice one stall in particular decorated with fancy red velvet, draped all around the wooden frame. Decorated cups with intricate patterns and engravings from a different language are neatly arranged in a line on one side of the stall while the remains of exotic animals fill the rest. Elephant tusks, sabretooth teeth, bladders from werecats, and even different spice mixes and herbs can be found in the stall. But one items stands out to you. Underneath a worn-out sundial used for navigating the sea, is an old looking map.
Maps in these parts are quite the rarity, especially ones of the southern kingdoms, as who would have any use for them? Those rare few that have any need of them already has one and the farmers that never leave their own town certainly would have no use for a map. Good maps are even harder to come by, as it requires a painstaking amount of work to map a region accurately with the constant altercation of borders and new discoveries. The most accurate maps can cost up to ten whole gold pieces, which is enough to feed the entirety of your household for at least a year or two.
The stall is operated by a small elderly man clad in a dress-like garment and a turban.
"How much for that dusty old map?" you ask the old man.
"Oh, this old thing? Hmm..." the elderly man replies in a raspy voice. "It can be yours for only one gold coin."
"One gold coin? That's ridiculous!" you answer in shock.
"Well, you see, this is a very accurate and old map, made from the most illustrious and experienced of cartographers. Do you see the lining? Truly expert work!"
You look at the old map with suspicion. Currently, you only have 2 silver pieces with you that you managed to scrape together during winter, which is nowhere near the sum the old man is asking for.
You scan the map and try to recall a particular story a traveller from the Bourgenon Kingdom had told you last year in the inn. It was something about the Third Great War which separated the kingdoms...
"This map is old. Very old," you say in a calm voice.
The old merchant replies with piqued interest. "Hmm? Why would you say that, young man?"
"On the map it shows that the Great Karanteian Kingdom rules the entirety of the south. But in fact, they split into two separate nations after the Third Great war in the continent; The Haipan Dynasty and the Kazentian Dynasty. This happened after a dispute among the governing body, and so the two ruling families split the kingdom in two," you say with confidence.
The elderly man studies you carefully, until finally cracking a slight smile.
You hope that you understood the broken dialect of the drunken sailor that told you the story last year as you begin to believe you made a fool of yourself.
"Hah! Impressive, young man. It's not often I meet anyone who knows the history of the southern kingdoms so far up north. My name is Akhad," the man says and stretches out his hand.
"Thorfinn," you say and clutch his hand, giving a firm handshake.
"A good, strong name. You are indeed correct. This map is almost 50 years old and has served me well during my travels. I do think it's time for it to find a new home," Akhad says and hands you the map.
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You look at the map in confusion.
"But, I can't affor-..."
"Take it," Akhad continues. "I'm sure an inquisitive young mind like yourself will find a use for it eventually. And I'm also sure we shall meet again one day, Thorfinn. Now begone, I'm not running a charity here, you know?"
"Thank you, Akhad. I won't forget this!" you reply and scurry off into the crowd.
As you traverse the cobbled streets of Fagravik, looking at baubles you have never seen before, a voice calls your name from somewhere in the crowd. You perk up at the mention of your name, but spot no one so familiar enough that would call out to you. Thinking nothing of it, you keep scanning the various stalls. You do spot more guards than usual patrolling the area. Many of them you have never even seen before, which is quite the rare occurrence in town.
Suddenly, you feel a sharp sting on your shoulder.
"Ow! Who in the f-..." you cut your words short as you turn around to investigate the source of the disturbance.
"Thorfinn!" a teenage boy with outstretched arms exclaims as your gazes meet.
"Orvar!" you say with a smile as the pain is all but forgotten. "It's been a while, where have you been?" you ask as the two of you give each other a friendly hug.
"Long story. The old man decided we should go on a hunting trip in the mountains. And you know how it goes with him, one thing leads to another and suddenly we had spent an entire month on that blasted mountain," Orvar explains with a wary expression. "But that damn deer was one of legends, I tell you! Pure white, almost like it was radiating some weird energy of which the likes I've never seen before. None of our arrows seemed to be able to hit it, always veering off slightly to the side. And you know my dad, he does love a challenge. So we spent an ungodly amount of time chasing the thing until mom showed up and basically dragged us back home," he chuckles as he remembers the scene.
"Wow, you've gotten your fair share of adventure. Wish I could've joined," you reply.
"Me too, buddy. Me too," Orvar says.
The two of you have been best friends for as long as you can remember. Countless times had you gone on amazing "adventures" in the forest in-between Fagravik and your family's farm, slaying countless beasts and rescuing damsels in distress all while looting magical items lost in time. A few times your father even allowed you to accompany Orvar and his father on a hunting trip, as they were part of the hunting party for the town. More than once, however, they would go on a side mission and be gone for weeks, if not even months.
"So," Orvar continues, "What brings you to the market? You here alone?" the two of you continue deeper into the market as you discuss.
"No, I'm here with mother and Saga. They're around here somewhere. We got split up as she went on and on about finding some silk clothing."
IF player has MAP:
"But that did allow me to get the freaking best purchase of my life. For the amazing price of: absolutely nothing," you exclaim as you pull out a piece of parchment rolled into the inner seam of your tunic.
"Tcha- tchaa! Marvel at this masterpiece, filthy peasant!"
Orvar looks at the blank piece of parchment with a puzzled look. "It's a piece of empty parchment, Thorfinn."
You quickly flip over the scroll and show the map to your friend. "Not just any piece of paper, my old friend. It's a map! Of the southern kingdoms, no less. An authentic map! The first piece of the puzzle to get me out of here on grand adventures, has been completed."
Orvar's puzzled expression turns into one of genuine happiness. "That's great, Thorfinn. Things sure are looking up, eh?"
Your grin widens. "Yeah, they sure are."
You and Orvar catch up a bit more before he eventually has to leave.
"You coming over later tonight? I'm sure mother and father would love to see you as well," you ask.
"Of course, I just got some errands to run in town for mother. Dad is grounded for the foreseeable future, after all," he chuckles.
"Your mother does have quite the fiery personality, wouldn't want to cross her war path," you say with amusement.
Orvar extend his fist and you meet it with a slight bump before he disappears into the crowd once more. As you look over, there are now even more guards patrolling than before.
Looking down the busy main street, you spot a familiar figure with a whole bundle of linen cradled in her arms.
"Yep, that's her, alright," you say with a sigh and begin walking towards her.
As you come closer, she spots you and runs towards you with Saga scrambling frantically to keep up.
"Thorfinn! Look at these dresses I got for an insane deal! They're sooo smooth." Your mother almost screams as she pushes the crowd to the side. Her strong physique forces even the guards to change their path as she comes careening across the cobbled streets.
"Here, here, feel it," she says as she reaches her destination.
"Yes, mother, it is very smooth," you reply as you gently tap the surprisingly smooth dresses.
Suddenly, a ferocious roar erupts from a street on the other side of an inn which the three of you are now standing by.
"For the king! For the glory of Ariland!" screams an unknown voice.
Swords start clashing in the distance, as confusion appears on everyone's faces in the marketplace. Agonizing screams of men having their limbs severed can be heard from the street below. The slashing of swords connecting on bare flesh and clanging of steel as someone managed to block an incoming strike are all audible as clear as day. Disgusting squashing noises trumps it all as it can only be explained as entrails being spewed out on the cobbled ground of the otherwise completely peaceful town. Everyone freezes in fear of the unknown sounds echoing throughout the town. No one dears to move a muscle as the fighting moves closer and closer. Arrows can be heard firing off en masse.
Saga timidly clutches her small hands onto your blue tunic so hard that her knuckles start turning white. Your mother instinctively moves in front of you and Saga, her hand ready to unsheathe a carving knife which lays buckled on the side of her belt.
Confusion among the onlookers finally turns into a mass panic as the bottled-up emotions gets released. One scream of fear turns into a cacophony as the denizens of Fagravik start shuffling in a hurry to get to the safety of their homes. As people were about to run away from the marketplace, a circle of guards appears, trapping them with nowhere to run. In a trained motion, the guards all draw their swords at once.
"Nobody fucking moves a muscle if ya know what's good for ya!" one of the older guards yells with a booming voice that carries across the market.
But for some, the words don't register. Their flight instincts have already kicked in and are in full effect. A few dozen people keep running away from the agonizing screams coming from the street only a stone's throw away.
An elderly man, whom you recognize as the town's baker is one of the first ones to almost make a break for it. Just as he's about to escape through a hole in the guard's formation, he suddenly comes to a complete stop. In but a few seconds, his limp body falls on the cobbled streets of the fair and colourful market that was but a few minutes ago bustling with life. A severed head rolls down the bumpy ground. Stamps of blood marks each roll of the head as it squishes dully against the cobblestone. Finally, it comes to a wiggling stop, centering its eyes straight at you. You look into the lifeless eyes that are filled with shock. The moment seems to last forever as you are stuck in a surreal limbo, wondering what just had happened.
"I said nobody moves a fucking muscle, didn't I?" the same guard yells across the marketplace as he wipes blood off his sword. "Unless ya wanna end up like the fat one, of course. 'Cuz I'd be happy to accommodate ya," he continues as a wicked smile appears on his face.
You keep looking into the deep-blue eyes of the severed, lifeless head. But a few days ago, you and Saga had come into town and bought two golden-brown pieces of bread from him. The bakery was filled with the sweet smell of different pastries and bread that came straight out of the massive oven he had in the back of the shop. They tasted lovely, like a warm summer day while laying on an acre of wheat with naught but the wind blowing its warmth across your face. Now, nothing but a shroud of darkness covers Hadi's eyes. His eyes forever open but looking at nothing. He is dead. Just like that. You know what death is and thought you would be prepared for it as it is an eventuality. This is why you trained in the art of combat. But this... This is no glorious death on a battlefield or a peaceful one in your own bed. This is just a pointless and avoidable death.
The marketplace stays silent. Quiet whispers among friends and family is all that can be heard, but none dear to make a move.
The sounds of fighting on the other street finally subsides. The sound of hooves clopping on the cobbled ground can be heard approaching from further down the street.
"Kneel before his highness, King Rodni!" an authoritative voice yells across the silent marketplace, quieting down the few whispers.
On the long path towards the docks, a man on top of a horse enters view. He is surrounded by armoured guards, closely forming a ring around the man. An obvious air of regality envelopes the man as he keeps his gaze pointed straight in front of him, not once looking down at the scared people below him. Magnificent jewels made from sapphires, emeralds, and even onyxes adjourn his golden crown. Equally beautiful stones envelop his slender fingers which has never seen a single day of hard work. No calluses or bruises that are apparent on almost every single hand in the marketplace can be seen on the man's hands, which makes you question if he has even lived for longer than a year. His clothes are made from expensive fabric dyes in the expensive colour of red which is as rare as a Damascus blade in the North. The midday sun's sharp rays reflects from his shiny, golden crown, blinding everyone who looks upon him.
The entourage comes to a halt in front of the gathered crowd. Still not meeting anyone's gaze, the mounted man remains silent. The retainer from earlier steps to the right side of the man and starts to speak.
"For twenty years, there has been peace in our lands since the most fortunate death of your old, unworthy king. For twenty years have you been led by the most generous king Rodni, bestowing upon you boons which no other king would. For twenty years have you been uplifted from your old barbaric ways to see true marvels of civilization. And how do you see it fit to repay the king's kindness?" the retainer pauses his speech as a grizzled soldier steps up to him, handing him a woollen bag.
"By fucking treason!" he erupts and throws the bag on the ground. A loud thud emanates as the bag hits the ground. A solemn head once again starts rolling on the cobbled road. This time, it is a head you have never seen before, as the facial features are clearly not from these lands. Smooth, brown skin and black hair is sprawled on the ground as the head comes to a stop. You try to keep yourself from gagging as you cover Saga's eyes. The Valentian envoy, you think to yourself.
"These rats from the southern kingdoms come in here dressed as envoys to our king, but instead they scheme behind our back with you fucking peasants to seize the crown itself!" the retainer continues with a look of disgust. "But the king understands. He really does. The brain of a peasant works in weird, simple ways. If you're not taught something, you will never understand, will you? You only want more and more and more, until there's nothing more to give. So, we must simply... Show you the consequences of your greed."
Everybody in the marketplace share a look of confusion.
Whispers can be heard all over.
"Treason? What treason? Who is committing treason here?" the whispers are amplified as more people start asking the same questions. You and your family share their confusion. To your limited knowledge, there had never been any talk of real treason. Only the occasional drunken talk the town's bar, which everyone naturally discounts as just that, drunken foolishness. And what consequences will befall upon you?
After a few minutes of hushed whispering, the man starts to speak once more as he pulls out a rolled-up piece of parchment.
"By royal decree of King Rodni himself, the one true ruler of the North. Every first-born child that is under the age of eighteen winters, shall henceforth be forfeit from their families and auctioned off to the highest bidder in the southern kingdoms, or as the king seems fit."
Your face turns pale. Every first-born? Under eighteen winters? That would mean it's you. Sold to the highest bidder? Slavery? But slavery is banned in the North.
Your mother quickly grabs a hold of you and starts to make a run for it, but your legs give way as you try to start running.
"Thorfinn! You must get up!" she says in a panic.
The retainer speaks up once more as you mother tries to frantically get you up on your feet.
"Effective, immediately. Guards!"
Panic once more takes a hold of the gathered crowd. Fleeing silhouettes desperately try to in vain find an exit in the closing formation of city guards and veteran warriors. No cracks can be seen any more in the body of trained men and women approaching with shields up and swords drawn. Any attempt to escape had vanished long ago. Idunn attempts to scan the area for any weakness as she clutches you and saga tightly in her hands.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," an uncharacteristic, panicked voice emanates from your mother as desperation takes hold of her. Frantic cries of despair can be heard all over the marketplace as their children are snatched from them by the familiar guardsmen that lived in Fagravik all their lives. Fingers are pointed and children are snatched in but a few moments, until finally a finger finally lands on you.
Resignation looms over your mother. How did it come to this? What did they do to deserve this?
"Listen to me, Thorfinn," she says in as calm of a voice as she can muster. "You must remain brave. Remember where you came from, remember who you are. Your father will come find you. We will both come and find you!" Tears start forming in both of your eyes as you hug your mother tightly in the chaos. Saga looks at the spectacle in confusion, not knowing what has happened or what is about to. She slowly tugs on your sleeve.
"Are you leaving big brother? When are you coming back? Is he leaving, mother?"
A cold hand grabs onto your neck and yanks you backward in a snap, not giving you any time to react. The hard ground slams into the back of your head as you lose your balance. Your sight starts to become fuzzy as darkness creeps in from both sides. The last thing you see is your mother desperately screaming in agony while holding Saga deep in her arms.