Jackul vomited for the third time over the rope-corded gunwale of the whaleship as it drifted gently toward its destination. The vomit dissipated into a thin mist far before hitting the ocean near the port of Lizan Al Ghul, the largest city in all of Cambria. Far in the distance at the tip of the peninsula, the immense Iron Colossus of Lizan Al Ghul reflected the dawn light into rays of light that burned through the morning fog.
As Jackul wiped his chin, the great eye of the whaleship cracked open slightly, woken by the frequency of the young man's retching. Jackul and the whale exchanged glances. "Don't worry, it wasn't you," he said to the great beast, gesturing to the sea below with his free hand. Over the past two weeks, Jackul had conversed with the whale aboard the ferry to Cambria whenever he couldn't sleep or felt lonely. Although the creature wasn't capable of engaging in conversation, Jackul appreciated the company nonetheless that he lacked along his journey.
The whale's half-closed eyes shifted slowly back toward their destination. On the horizon, a lingering morning fog burnt away in the morning sun above the great port city.
The entire trip was finally coming to an end, much to Jackul's delight. He wiped his mouth again for good measure, turned away from the gunwale, and retrieved the silver-foiled letter from the Guild he had received a year ago from a hidden pocket. He read over the message on the parchment, gloomy thoughts came to mind despite his best efforts to ward them off with thoughts of opportunities ahead. He could recite the letter from memory if he wanted to, but holding the parchment in hand reminded him too much of the life he cast away.
The whaleship closed its eye and continued to drift along its course to the great peninsula the port city rested on. That great tongue that jutted out from the maw defined by geography to its north and south housed most of the known denizens of this continent. This thin sliver of land defended by a great wall was the only reason all those people below could even think about inhabiting this land, the world’s greatest port city and entrance to the New World of Cambria: Lizan Al Ghul.
"So, this is where all those Hunters come from, aye girl?" he mused, glancing at the continent once more before reading his silver parchment. Thoughts of dropping the precious letter into the sea far below landed in Jackul’s gut, but he only tightened his grip on the letter reading and ruminating on the words that sealed his fate.
"To whom the matter concerns His Baron's Majesty,
Jackul of the Sultanate of Verdanta, by order of Guild Master Quintus Flaxenus, is to proceed to Lizan Al Ghul, the great port city of our Holy Emperor Malik Raza, and immediately upon landing find the company of one Adisu Wagaye: Guild Rank 3rd Standard. From whence, the aforementioned party will remain in the custody of by order of the Council of Guild Masters of Lizan Al Ghul.
This the month Vitus day 22, year of our Holy Emperor 1675.
Guild Master
-Q. Flaxenus"
Jackul's thoughts flowed back in time as he looked at the name on the ticket: Adisu. During Jackul's application process for Guild Rank 1st Standard at the embassy in Verdanta, the Guild official didn't bother looking up from his stack of papers until he came across that name on Jackul's forms. Letter still in hand against the high ocean gusts, Jackul's memories drifted back to that time.
---
The heavily bespectacled and bothered Guild official froze and looked up from his ornate desk at the dark olive-skinned youth in gilded royal linens standing just beyond the border of his desk. Quintus first noticed with irritation that the boy was standing slightly too close to his ornate desk, and more importantly, his favorite broken mask. He began speaking with a curt tempo.
"3rd Standard Adisu Wagaye," the Guild official grinned as he read the name aloud. He looked back at the young man. "You picked a good one, boy."
Jackul stumbled waiting slightly too long to respond to the Guild official’s remark, "I thought I was assigned, sir?"
The official brushed away the response with a hand and continued his cursory glance at the documents on his desk. He had a habit of smoothing out his colored silks so much that his Guild emblem, a scepter winged with two great feathers, never stopped waving with his erratic movements. He had to get everything just right, it was his job after all. Jackul did his best not to stare at the jumping multicolored feathers.
Quintus hacked a cough to get Jackul's attention as the feathers settled. "The last one I approved for that particular Hunter lasted three months before a new recruit was requested. That man has a bad habit of wasting our resources."
This was the first Jackul had heard of anything beyond the name and profession of the Guild Master to whom he would be assigned by his brother, the Sultan of Verdanta, Mustafa.
When the two were children in the Azul Palace, Jackul would often explore the palace library with his brother in search of texts detailing the distant land and its monsters. Despite the two being scolded for scribbling in these precious texts in an attempt to make the monsters therein come to life, Jackul keenly remembered reading that the average life expectancy for a masked hunter was 5 years. That seemed like a very long time to him as a child, but now as a young man, rather short. Unfortunately, he also remembered reading that the life expectancy for 1st standard recruits, his to be ranking, was a piddly single year.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
More tales and images from the books they scribbled in swirled around Jackul's imagination as Quintus continued reviewing the appropriate forms in irritated silence. Excitement at the thought of leaving home silenced any conscious consideration of the real possibility of violent death at the hands of a monster or demon on the continent. Jackul snapped back to the present upon hearing Quintus tapping his quill on the broken mask to get the young man's attention. Coming back to, Jackul set his gaze on the mysterious object. Its eyes were hollow, and there was a massive gash running along the left temple across to the right jawline.
"Wasted resources!" Quintus repeated. He looked at the young man standing before him and read his thoughts through his drooping posture. He was no different than all the others who had passed before his desk. "You're looking at this now?" He tapped his quill on the broken mask again. "Do you know what this is?"
"A mask," Jackul replied after an incredulous pause. He quickly corrected himself, "a Hunter's mask, yes?" He looked more closely at the object. It appeared to be made of some ceramic material with numerous symbols on its surface and gold inlays. Overall, it was beautiful, but its expression, what was left of it, was sinister.
"That's right, boy. Don't be so eager to don the mask of a Hunter." Quintus sighed, "They send me back the broken masks every so often as a reminder of my bad investments."
"A reminder of what?"
"Bad investments. To do a better job selecting candidates worth hauling beyond The Ring."
Jackul's shoulders slumped even more as the thought of dying became just a bit more tangible after looking at the mask. He could only imagine what trauma was inflicted upon its wearer leading to their demise.
"Don't look so sullen, young lad," Quintus broke in reading the boy’s mind. He smiled and caught the young man's eye. His entire demeanor inflected from candid irritation to repressed elation, "In all my years of processing Hunters for arrival to Cambria, I've never met anyone quite as capable as you apply to be a Hunter."
"Really?"
"Yes, really!" The official now became emphatic. "I've seen thousands of young lads and maids come through my office to become hunters. Some were smart, others dull. Some athletic, some a bit heavy set. But you, my young lad, have a spark I can't quite describe! Call it intuition from someone who's worked as long as I have."
Jackul waited a moment before replying, expecting the official to continue, "…uh, thank you, sir." His shoulders moved ever so slightly up at the compliment.
"Yes, yes!" the official went on, now elated. "You've got it all, my boy!" He looked back at the papers he was approving, going over the details. "You're just past 18. A young lad with all that potential! That dark complexion to keep you from getting burned in that harsh, equatorial sun. A fine build. You'll need it for running from all those monsters, you know? And to top it all off, you come from a great family! The House of, let's see," Quintus' eyes flashed, "Verdanta!" The official locked eyes with the vagabond royal.
Jackul slowly nodded at the mention of his family, his deep yellow eyes met the Guild Official’s cold blue. Quintus broke eye contact first.
"Well, Sir Verdanta! I know you Verdantians don't have a word for prince, but you're royal blood nonetheless." The official regained his pace, looking back at his papers to avoid Jackul's gaze. Although the official had sent numerous individuals to their untimely demise in a foreign land, he never quite got used to looking one in the eyes he was certain wouldn't live past a fortnight once they landed.
Quintus continued, "You're set to depart at the end of this week for Port Lizan Al Ghul." Quintus produced a seal from his silk sleeve and stamped his approval. He quickly handed the parchment to Jackul, "Now please make haste, as you can see I have quite a few more Hunters waiting to be approved just outside my door." Indeed, there was a clamor outside of colonists, criminals, and everyone in between. In a land that promised a new lease on life, many were enticed to make the gamble at a better life.
Jackul accepted the ticket, and for a moment, he felt a weight lift completely off of his shoulders. Optimistic thoughts were all that occupied Jackul’s mind now as he pressed his thumb against the stamped seal. He bowed slightly, "I'll be on my way then." He regained focus, met the Guild official's eyes one more time, and then headed out the door.
Quintus didn’t drop his gaze. He followed the sound of Jackul's steps down the hall with his eyes. As soon as the boy’s footsteps were completely gone, Quintus leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and exhaled a sigh of relief. He let his mind drift. There were plenty of young scions who came through his office from families intent on ensuring they didn't later become liabilities. None of this surprised him. Most royals were more than willing to throw a few gold coins away to make ever less likely a civil war.
It was business as usual. Ensure trade amongst the Ring of Nations and Cambria as well as prevent petty squabbles within royal houses from erupting into civil wars. Those all too often had the habit of cutting tariff profits to black markets. Planned war between royal houses was preferred, the Guild had its levers. Monsters and Hunters made great weapons for power-hungry nobles after all.
Eager to find glory in distant lands for lack of room in their own house, the royal families of the Ring produced a steady stream of estranged lower nobles intent on becoming Hunters. They often had little choice in the matter, as an inheritance could only be split so many times. So, most agreed to roll the dice in a foreign land than meet exile, a nunnery, or death from a silk string. Some returned with riches, honor, and great powers bestowed upon them by their masks, but all eventually succumbed to one of two fates.
Either they were consumed by an insatiable blood lust beset by their mask, or they became emotionless ascetics in constant war against said blood lust, dependent on the charity of others to survive. But all mask users were united in one factor. All were cursed with a fear of fire. At mere sight, any mask user would be wracked with fear either fleeing at first sight or becoming paralyzed.
Many chose to fight the dual parts craving and fear bestowed by the mask, yet most gave in to that desire with half-mad glee. The monster in the mask consumed them all bit by bit. Those in Cambria who refused to take off their mask by order of the Guild would be hunted down by other Hunters, and their masks given life anew.
Quintus thought of all of this as he rocked back and forth before calling in the next Hunter applicant. He wondered to himself with a grin, "I wonder which path that boy will take when the curse takes him."
He rocked back and forth for an entire minute in silence.
Normally exceptionally prescient in such matters, Quintus could not easily predict the boy's fate the more his thoughts lingered.
A voice outside coughed loudly.
He paused, rocked his chair two more times, and proceeded to call in the next applicant without another thought on the matter.