Morning dawned, clear and crisp. We all traded watches, but apart from the occasional, distant howl, we were undisturbed.

Unless, of course, you consider Curr’s violently loud snoring.

Though nothing bothered us in real life, I did have a horrible dream. We were back in the mountain, surrounded by lava, facing off against Varun the Orc Shaman/former Elven king or whatever. After having stabbed Curr with the Alyndis Dagger of Discontent, we weren’t able to save him. This wasn’t the first time I’d had a nightmare like this. Sometimes, I struck him directly in the heart. Other times, we simply weren’t quick enough.

But last night, it was different. I knew I had a cure. I knew we could save him, but I fumbled around in my pockets for the pink, magical, healing flowers, but when I pulled my hands out, they were covered in blood and ash.

I don’t know what it meant, if anything at all, but it shook me to the core. When I woke, my clothes were soaked.

You sure it wasn’t a wet dream? Those can be embarrassing.

“What are you looking at?” Curr said.

I hadn’t realized I was staring at him. I couldn’t help it.

“Nothing,” I said. “Must have zoned out.”

“It was as if you were in a trance,” he remarked. “There was a time when I believed you may have problems with your eyes. I am once again concerned.”

“I can see just fine,” I assured him. “Just thinking.”

Curr shrugged, giving me a look like I was crazy, then continued staunching the fire.

Honestly, I was just so grateful it was only a dream and my big braug friend was still with us. Funny how friendships work. If I really think back to my days before Aethonia, I couldn’t pinpoint a single friend like him. Sure, I had bandmates, and we traveled all over together in a tiny little minivan, scrunched up in the backseat while one of us drove. But I don’t think any of them would have died for me. And if I’m being real, I wouldn’t have died for them either.

But Curr? Lilla? I glanced over at Garvis. At this point, I’d probably even—

Let’s not go crazy, now.

That was probably true, but I would get stabbed for him. Something… not deadly.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Slava said, clapping his hands. “My family awaits our arrival. However, I shall provide warning, they will be unhappy I have returned without my quarry.”

“Surely, you can find another troll,” I said, standing and stretching.

Slava spun on me. “I have been seeking a Forest Troll for neigh on a decade. How do you suppose I just ‘find another’?”

“I just meant—you know what? Never mind. Ignore me.”

Most people do.

Proving Screenie right, Slava turned his back, muttering.

Lilla, however, placed a hand on my forearm. “I know you mean well.” My face blushed.

See? Someone cares.

“But maybe stop talking to him for a while?”

Once again, I felt like a man out of time.

That is, in fact, what you are.

Since the second I arrived on this world, I’d been playing catchup. I didn’t know the difference between a troll and an ogre. Hell, until last night, I didn’t know there were actual dragons in Aethonia. I knew it would be tough, but I thought it would have gotten better by now.

It has gotten better.

How?

Look around you! You have a Party. You have gear. You have a quest. And best of all, you’ve got me!

Right. I’m blessed beyond words.

You’re being hard on yourself.

Where’s the joke?

No joke. You wanted me to dial down my asshole settings. Well, I don’t have those, but I can, occasionally, be a swell guy. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been here less than a year, and in your first month, you defeated an Orc Shaman, killed a korken, got tangled up in a world-shattering quest, and proven to not be a completely worthless bard.

Wow, Screenie. Thanks.

Don’t get used to it. That hurt.

I smiled as I followed the others down a hill covered in brilliant flowers toward Cantripoli’s front gates.

My dream had me thinking again.

Any of these have magical properties?

Your obsession with pretty flowers is becoming concerning.

Could you just answer the question?

The blue ones help restore Mana, but you’re not a mage.

I wasn’t a mage. That was true enough. But I hadn’t been a healer either when I picked the Candentis Flos ex Improbi. So, with that in mind, I picked a few anyway. Couldn’t hurt.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

ITEM OBTAINED:

Deryalis (4)

We made our way from the grassy knoll to a dirt street that abruptly became paved. As the gates grew larger before us, so too did the sheer number of guards standing watch.

Man, they really are out in force.

You would be too if your king was a megalomaniacal prick.

Shirtaloon?

Is there another king?

The guards, seeing Slava, stepped aside without a word, allowing him and the others to enter the city without question. Until I reached them that is. I’d been trailing behind a bit too far I guess.

Cus you had to pick daisies.

“I’m with them,” I said, pointing to my Party who hadn’t even turned to see if we’d all made it through.

“Sure you are,” a guard with a nose like a gourd said.

“Seriously. Lilla! Curr! Slava!” I called. Then, desperate, I even shouted, “Garvis!”

Before I knew it, they were gone into the throng of people milling about near the gate.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I groaned.

“State your business here,” the guard said.

He, like all the others, wore shiny silver armor that looked like it could have withstood a shot from a cannon. Though he wore no helmet, the shoulder pieces… I wasn’t sure what they were called.

Pauldrons.

Sure, pauldrons. Those had tall pieces that jutted up from the shoulders to protect either side of his head.

“I… I don’t know? I’m with them. I said that.”

“No business, no papers, no entry. This is a time of war. We can’t just let any old riffraff in.”

“You let Garvis pass!”

“Don’t know who Garvis is, but that group was with the esteemed Prath Slava, and they are none of your concern.”

“They are with me!” I argued. “I’m with them! They are exactly my concern.”

Without another word, the guard returned to his post, leaving me standing outside the capital city, alone.

My shoulders slumped.

Oh, buck up. You didn’t need them anyway.

You literally just told me I was lucky to have them.

Yeah. You’re right.

“Hey!” A voice I recognized yelled. I looked up to see Lilla standing inside at the gate. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

“What am I…” I looked to the guard who rolled his eyes and waved me in. “Seriously?”

He gave me a little smile and stepped aside.

When I caught up to the others, Slava looked sideways at me. “We do not have time for games, bard.”

Let it go. Let. It. Go.

As I stepped through the towering gates, flanked on both sides by men in that heavy armor, I was immediately enveloped by a symphony of sights and sounds that danced around me, igniting my senses. The grand arches of the gates loomed above, crafted from ancient stone, intricately carved with Pyruun’s crest—a fractured sun and moon ordeal. Above, red banners emblazoned in gold—the same insignia—flapped in the gentle breeze, vivid against the pale sunrise, welcomed travelers way better than the guards had.

This place was nothing like Balahazia—all cold—both in temperature and demeanor. Cantripoli was warm and dare I say, inviting. And it buzzed with excitement. The air was filled with what smelled like garlic and freshly baked bread wafting from the numerous stalls lining the streets. People weaved and wagged in every direction like a tangle of rivers, flowing haphazardly toward their own unique destinations.

“Keep up,” Slava said, rushing forward and not slowing.

I guess he’d seen the city plenty, and wasn’t in the same kind of awe I was.

As I fought to do as he asked, I marveled at the diversity of the people around me. It was like New York or Chicago or something, but less murders. I hoped.

The bustling marketplace was a riot. Merchants called out to passersby, their voices blending harmoniously, creating a lively chorus of haggling and laughter. Vibrant textiles draped over stalls, their rich patterns like something I couldn’t afford back home. The various shopfronts flurried with life, and more than one of their owners tried to stop me to peddle some bauble or trinket. Truth me told, they might have one my coin had Slava not been in such a hurry.

Sure, you could put one of those hourglass thingies on your nightstand!

It was true. Here in Aethonia, I had no home to call my own. It was a weird thought, honestly. Like I was a drifter… born to walk alone.

Groan.

Here I go again on my own, trying to match even Garvis’ stride.

A nearby minstrel strummed a lute, and gave me a little nod, no doubt having seen Roxanne. I nodded back, but didn’t dare stop.

“That, Danny, is how that instrument should sound,” Curr called back to me.

“Thanks, Curr!” I shouted, sarcasm dripping.

“Thought you should know.”

I ignored him as best I could, fully enraptured by my surroundings.

The laughter of children echoed from nearby squares, where they played games with wooden toys painted in bright colors, their joy infectious.

The buildings around me soared into the sky, their intricate designs shimmering, almost prismatic. Ornate spires reached for the heavens, crowned with delicate glass that caught the sunlight and scattered it like a thousand tiny stars across the street. Grand domes, adorned with gold leaf, reflected the warm glow of the rising sun, turning the entire city into a canvas of pastel wonder.

And above it all, the king’s castle. From this angle, it looked like a hunk of floating rock, and cast a long and wide shadow over the southern—I still had no idea which direction was south—portion of the city.

I found my gaze drawn upward toward it, and nearly slammed into Curr’s back.

We’d stopped.

“Welp!” Garvis exclaimed without preamble, “I’m off. I’ll catch up to you shogheads later. I’ve got a halfling to see and a brothel to defile. Or maybe the other way around. Don’t forget, I was there when we found the troll that got eaten by a yigging dragon.”

He scurried off down the avenue with a little hop in his step.

GARVIS THE THIEF HAS LEFT YOUR PARTY.

And like that, the little shit was gone.

“That little man has only himself in mind,” Curr noted.

“We don’t need him,” Slava said, leading us further into the city.

We trod through streets that looked like they belonged in Beverly Hills. Gorgeous mansions, and some of the most well-built structures I’d ever seen in my life. Noblemen and women sat with their dogs on front porches, drinking from fancy looking cups. One turned away when I waved.

It wasn't long before we stood at the entrance to the Academy of Learning. Up so close, it was even more opulent and impressive. The walls shone with the reflection of its surroundings. It was no surprise the encircling buildings were amongst the most beautiful in the whole city. A prism of colors bounced back at us. It was almost blinding in it is resilient beauty.

Why don’t you marry it?

And there, etched into the glass was a symbol of sorts. Something I didn’t quite understand.

BIG surprise.

You know, if you're not gonna be helpful…

Why don't you at least try to figure it out on your own? You may not always have me to explain everything to you like an infant.

I almost growled from frustration, but I studied the symbol. It looked like an undesirable hunk of… something.

That was my nickname in high school.

A rock? Yeah, I guessed. A stone, boulder… something geology related.

Then there were two droplets facing opposite directions—one with the point upward and the other curing down.

Water and… a flame?

Yas, Queen! Get it!

So, a rock, a drop of water, and a flame? I considered that for a minute.

Earth, water, and flame. Wasn’t that a band?

Earth, wind, and fire.

Honestly Danny, it’s embarrassing when I know more about your history than you.

Something I still don’t understand... So, they're elements, right—magic?

Pruthkrama… but yes. Correctamundo!

Just then the doors—doors I didn't even know were there—slid open. It was really just thirty foot-tall panes of glass that retracted in opposite directions.

Slava led us inside. “Welcome to the Academy of Learning.”