Seven gold pieces, twelve silver bits, and thirty copper coins. It was a fortune to Konrad, and Helgan's Rest was the place to spend it.

The main square of the town was lined with two-story stone buildings with planters of colorful flowers outside their windows. The ground floors were reserved for shops selling everything a budding adventurer could dream of. Armorers displayed swords, shields, and other weapons Konrad had never seen before. His gaze lingered on a stick with a chain attached and a huge spiked ball on the other end.

Apothecaries held rack upon rack of carefully labeled bottles alongside potions. He could imagine that the shiny potions would cost a fortune, and he knew that he would have to rely on his gods-given talents for now.

Slightly off of the main square, he found a dim-looking shop. The window display held a range of dusty items, including clothing, grappling hooks, bent swords, tinder boxes, a dusty bejewelled dagger, and a crude stuffed animal that should have been a wolf but looked like a fat, hairy cow with pointy ears.

A bell near the back of the store jingled as he entered.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Konrad almost missed the small woman. The top of her white head bobbed along as she walked behind the counter and popped out into the store. Her flyaway white hair seemed to drift in the air around her, and her eyes were milky white. She sniffed the air and rested her hands on her hips.

"No dogs allowed, I’m afraid."

"My dogs not here."

"You might want to think about taking a bath, then, young man, and changing into a new set of clothes."

"That’s what I’m here for, actually."

"I can help with the clothes. Good job. I like nothing better than a customer, smelly or otherwise. I'm Rhina."

"I’m Konrad."

Rhina fussed around Konrad, muttering to herself as she took his measurements with an old length of tape.

"You headed off adventuring?"

"That’s right, to the western cape."

"Careful down there, still wild country."

"What’s down there?"

"A man went down there a few years back looking for a lost city of the elves; came back here and couldn’t even remember his own mother, crying his eyes out he was."

A memory stirred in the back of Konrad’s mind. "Was his name Errol?"

"Could’ve been." Rhina disappeared behind the counter and, after rummaging around, presented Konrad with a pile of folded clothes. "Sturdy trousers, shirts, and a waistcoat. Here’s an oiled overcoat too, if you’re interested; keep the sea spray off. You can try them on over there."

"I also have this; do you think you could mend it?" Konrad handed Rhina his green woolen hat. It was looking extremely sorry for itself, having been frozen, drowned, and flamed on his journey through the north.

"This is a very badly made hat; why don’t I give you a nice new one?"

Konrad considered warning the small woman that her life might very well be in danger after that comment.

"Someone made it for me; can you fix it?"

"Don’t do repairs." Rhina pushed the clothes into Konrad's arms and shooed him into the small changing space.

All of the clothes fit wonderfully, and as he admired himself in the cracked mirror, the bell above the door tinkled.

"Hello, can I help you, Miss?"

"Do you have any books?" a voice said.

"Some, what kind of books?"

"Anything about legends, myths, or stories. Something with magic if you have it."

Konrad stood still, his heart beating in his chest.

"Got a book here if you like; that’ll be a silver bit."

"Do you mind if I have a look first?"

"You can have a look, but be quick."

"Alice?" Konrad said, pulling open the curtain.

A girl about his age sat on the floor with an open book resting on her knees, her blond hair brushing the pages. She looked up with a slightly alarmed look on her face.

"I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else," Konrad mumbled.

"—Are you finished reading, miss?" Rhina interrupted.

"Nearly," the girl replied, gently turning a page.

"Well, hurry up; this is a shop, not a library."

The shopkeeper looked Konrad up and down. "You look better, could still do with a wash, though. You can take the clothes for a silver bit; if you want the jacket, I’ll do the whole lot for four silver bits; that’s a discount, provided you do us all a favor and head straight to the washhouse in the fortress."

The girl made a soft sound that could have been a giggle, and Konrad felt his ears start to burn. It might have been his new clothes, but the store suddenly felt very warm.

He fished out the coins, adding a few coppers. "I’ll take the toy in the window as well," he added as quietly as he could.

"You seem a bit old for cuddly toys, but who am I to judge?" Rhina replied loudly.

"It’s for my dog," Konrad said through gritted teeth.

"Like I said, no judgment," she sniffed. "Give me those rags, and I’ll take them out back and burn em."

Once outside, Konrad took a deep breath of the cool air. His new clothes fit perfectly, although he was sad to say goodbye to his old homespun woolen clothes from Fallow Vale.

The door of the shop snapped shut behind him.

"Did you say you have a dog?" The girl from the store asked.

"Yes, she's called Spirit; she’s not here right now, though."

"I can see that," the girl said, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly. "I’m Issie."

"I’machampionofthegods," he blurted out before he had a chance to stop himself. "I mean, I’m Konrad."

Issie’s smile was clearly evident now. "Impressive, are you here on a quest?"

"I’m on my way to one, we had to stop for supplies."

"I’m here with my father; he’s a merchant. I get stuck here a lot while the ship gets loaded and unloaded. You know, Helgans Rest has some secrets a champion might find useful; it’s right here in this book, see?"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Issie held open her new book, and Konrad glanced at the page full of scrawled lines. "Interesting," he replied, having no idea if the book was even up the right way.

"So will you come with me?" She asked.

Issie had an enthusiasm to her voice that was infectious, and Konrad felt himself grinning along with her.

"Of course!"

They made their way through the town and out of the eastern gate. Rolling hills of wild grass surrounded the town, and as they walked, they chatted. Issie wanted to know all about Konrad’s adventures as a champion, and he told her about his quest in Tajar and his journey to the coldest mountain.

Issie had just sailed from Erudor, and she painted a picture of the mysterious continent with its magnificent beasts and fortified cities ruled by powerful magic wielders. He was surprised to learn that Erudor had champions too, although the Mother, the Father, and the Brother were less popular than they were on Parthanea.

It was early afternoon when they reached a thickly wooded area.

"Is this the place?" Konrad said, peering into the gloom under the thick canopy.

"It says there’s an entrance to a cave in there, but it looks a little scary." Issie stared at the open book with a frown.

Konrad agreed, the murky interior of the forest didn’t look appealing at all.

"Lyran, I bless myself," Konrad whispered, feeling his fears drain away, replaced by a newfound surge of confidence.

"Don’t worry, I’ll protect you," he declared and marched in.

The cave entrance was twice as tall as Konrad and three times as wide. The air that came out was damp and warm. He pulled a torch from his pack and lit it with his tinderbox.

"What exactly are we looking for?" he asked.

"According to this book, the people of the west of Parthanea worshiped one of the older gods. There are still paintings of them on the walls in this cave."

Konrad remembered the murals of Casovan in the coldest mountain, wondering that if any god was old, chances are they might not even exist any more.

Deeper into the cave, the heat rose, and water dripped from the ceiling.

"There must be some kind of hot spring under here," Issie said, loosening her neck tie and dabbing at her face and neck. "I guess it feeds the washhouse in the fortress."

The path ended abruptly with a drop down into the darkness. Steam curled up past the dim light from Konrad's torch.

"Look," Issie said, pointing to the wall.

Painted onto the rocks was a crude drawing of a small, faceless figure wearing a hood. His arms were raised, and tendrils of darkness were pouring out.

"It looks a little like Avram, don’t you think?" Issie said, her head cocked to one side.

"It does.. Wait, how do you know what Avram looks like?"

"It’s not my best work, but I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare."

The book hit him hard in the stomach and knocked all of the air out of his lungs.

"Issie, wait!" He gasped.

The girl advanced on him, her lips locked in a mocking pout. "Sorry, Konrad, I had some bad luck on the ocean and got delayed, and I couldn’t let you get there before me. This should slow you down a little."

Konrad caught the book as she threw it and took a step back into nothingness.

"At least you’ll get that wash now," Issie said as he fell.

Konrad landed in warm water and was swiftly taken by the current. He clutched the book to his chest as he was pulled through a series of winding tunnels in the rock, sometimes having to hold his breath until he thought his lungs would burst.

Eventually, he was ejected into a pool of water and broke the surface, gasping for breath. Women’s screams erupted all around him, and the smell of fragrant soap filled his nose.

-

Briarstone woke to the familiar sounds of Helgan's Rest. His mouth felt like it was covered in fur, and as he got up, he dislodged the empty bottles around him, and they clinked onto the floor.

The boat was silent, which was nice for a change; the dog was the only member of the current crew on board.

"Hello girl, having a rest today?"

She blinked at him with her dark eyes and laid her head back down to sleep.

On deck, his eyes traveled up the hill to the great fortress with its thick stone walls. Once he had stood in this very place, and the world had been filled with the clashes of swords and the twangs of crossbows. It’d been hot then, and the rain had made the air sticky, but today the air was crisp, and Helgan's Rest was bathed in the last of the fall sunshine. Some folk stared at him as he made his way up the stone streets, their gaze lingering as if his face stirred up a half a memory.

Up high on the hill, he paused, puffing with the exertion of the climb.

A dozen graves overlooked the town, facing out to sea. Most of those that lay here were sailors; perhaps it was thought that having a few extra pairs of eyes watching over things couldn’t be a bad thing.

The grave was well tended and covered with totems. Necklaces made of seashells, pieces of carved driftwood An old sailor with a toothy smile carried a broom and gently swept the pathways free of leaves.

"You look like a friend of the sea; come to pay your respects to young Beor?" The sweeper asked.

"Aye, seemed like the right thing to do," Briarstone replied.

"They calls me Old Fen. I was there you know, that night; tell you about it for a few coppers." Old Fen leaned on the gravestone and pulled out a stained pouch.

You weren’t there, Old Fen, but I was. I sprinted up this hill till my lungs burned.

"Gladly," Briarstone replied. "If you’ll spare a pinch of leaf."

"It was a dark and stormy night," Fen began, passing the crinkled leather pouch to Briarstone.

It was a summer morning, and it had just rained. A heavy shower that covered the fortress and the town in mist. I almost ran the ship right into the quay.

"It was right here on this very spot that the pirate Helgan stood and taunted those men of the Lost Coast who had come to free the town from his tyranny."

Helgan was up in the fortress with his arcanists, using magic to raise the mist and throw great rocks down from the heights.

"He was calling for men to come and fight him, you see, bold as brass, and there was already a pile of bodies lying around him, most of them buried in the ground right around you." A match flared and Briarstone leaned forward, drawing on his pipe.

I told you to secure the quayside while I gathered the other captains. When I came back you’d gone.

"All of a sudden, this young sailor hops up onto the hill, cutlass in hand. Beor Halfstone. He was the child of sailors going back five generations, a true son of the sea."

We never knew our parents; we only had each other. I called you willful and headstrong, but all you ever wanted to do was prove yourself to me.

"Such a duel was fought on this here hill that all men and women down below stopped their fighting. Time and time again, Helgan and young Beor threw each other down, and time and time again, they got back to their feet. They were titans, and the earth shook with their brawling and crashing."

He was a master swordsman. You were fast, but you never stood a chance.

"Finally, the young Beor called upon his strength and pierced Helgan’s heart with his cutlass. But he was sorely wounded himself."

The arcanists were tired, and I cut them down in a bloody rage. Then I found Helgan, and I ran him through. I put you up here so you could see the ocean, and I threw Helgan’s body off the cliff as an offering to the Deep.

Briarstone had remained silent throughout the story, and he tapped out his pipe and spoke. "With his last breath, Beor Halfstone hauled Helgan’s body to the edge of the cliff and threw his body on to the rocks," he intoned.

"If you’ve already heard the story, then why’d you let me go on like that?" Old Fen mumbled.

"I wanted to make sure they still got the details right. Here, take this for your trouble."

Briarstone tossed the pouch Rolo had given him to the old sailor.

"You sure about this?" Old Fen replied, feeling the weight of gold in his hands.

"That should buy me a little peace, no?"

Old Fen’s mouth hung open, and he nodded, plucking up his broom and shuffling off.

Briarstone sat and pulled out a small bottle of amber liquid, taking a deep drink as he gazed out on the ocean.

"I’ve a new ship, Beor, such a ship as you’ve never laid eyes on, made with the lost skill of the snow elves," he said, laying a tender hand on the grave.

"There’s a boy I’m looking after too; well, he’s almost a man. He’s a trouper, if you can believe it. His father is Delaney of the Last Coast Council, and he asked me to take care of him, and, well, I owed him. He’s wilful—more than you even. He’s got a great duty that weighs on him, and I’m supposed to help him get there. But after you, well, I don’t want to push him."

A tear welled up in the old sailors eye, and he brushed it away.

"These strays seem to fall into my path like autumn leaves. There’s another one, a champion of the small gods he calls himself," Briarstone chuckled at the image of Konrad's determined expression. "You’d like him, Beor; he’s just like you; nothin’ gets him down. He's got a sword and doesn’t even know if he’s holding it by the right end."

Briarstone emptied the bottle and placed it on the grave.

"They need my help, but I’m worried I’ll fail them too."

-

Konrad was released from the fortress prison on the fifth day of his confinement and stepped out to find Briarstone waiting for him.

"You got me out?"

"That I did. Let’s get back to the ship; your dogs been worried something terrible," Briarstone said.

"How’d you know I was in there?" Konrad asked.

"The whole towns been talking about nothing else for days. The boy who snuck into the women’s bathhouse."

"I didn’t sneak in!"

"I know," Briarstone said, holding up his hands. "But it still took a while to convince them to cut you loose."

"How did you get me out? They told me I’d rot in there; they were furious."

"Let’s just say this town owes me and leave it at that."

Spirit ran down the docks of Helgan's Rest and jumped up at Konrad, barking like mad and spinning around in circles.

"It’s good to see you too, girl," Konrad said.

On the deck of Elena, Serena welcomed him back with open arms. "Don’t you do that again," she said, her fair face lined with worry.

Renau was beside himself with glee at Konrad's adventure. "The whole town was talking about it. I’ve already started writing the play, "The Sneaky Peeker of Helgan's Rest."

They cast off, and the wind took the sails. They were back on their journey south, and Konrad and Spirit sat on the deck, enjoying the sun and the sound of the ocean. After some time, a shadow fell over them, and Konrad looked up to see Briarstone standing over him. The sailor had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, his shining cutlass held in one hand.

"It’s a fair distance to the western cape. How about I show you how to use that sword?" he said.