In the early hours of the morning, a man slowly turned the pages of a crisp newspaper in his office. He examined the columns of text with a discerning eye. A quiet crowd stood around the door: four tired looking men and a group of six boys. Hayden and Daimen stood with the boys, watching attentively. The man finished, folded the newspaper up, and tossed it into one of the bags full of papers at the foot of his desk. He spoke.
“Get to work.”
The four writers took breaths of relief, and the boys rushed up and grabbed a bag of papers each, then rushed out of the building and up to a line of bicycles.
The boys threw their legs over the bikes and raced up the street towards the main plaza.
“8:20.” Daimen spoke as he pedaled.
“8:10!” Hayden replied from beside him.
Daimen scoffed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Watch me.”
At the circular plaza, the six bikes all split off down different streets, each boy rushing to deliver the papers to their assigned districts.
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At the end of a long, quiet street, Hayden threw a paper onto the porch of a wide two story house. He pedaled in a tight circle, ready to move on to the next one.
Bang! The door of the house suddenly slammed open, and a tall middle aged gaian man ran out, shouting.
“You! Boy! Come back here!”
Hayden stopped and turned to look over his shoulder, then slowly pedaled back up to the house.
“Is there something wrong sir?”
The man stared down at Hayden with a strange look.
“Come on in and have some lemonade, son.”
Hayden grimaced.
“No, thank you sir, I’m not thirsty, and I’m on a tight sche-”
“Get off the bike!”
“Yes sir.”
Hayden meekly parked his bike at the gate and walked up, the tall man opened the door to the house and ushered him in.
The man led him to his study, then left, (hopefully to make lemonade, and not to find something to murder me with) Hayden thought. He shifted uncomfortably on the leather armchair and checked the clock on the wall. 8:15. “Aisshhhh...” He groaned.
The man walked back in and Hayden sat up straighter. He walked around the low table and sat down across from Hayden, and looked him straight in the eye.
“I am Gideon Stroud.”
“Oh, I’m Hayden Waltess, nice to meet you, sir-”
“Don’t call me sir, I’m not a knight, I’m a mage.”
“Yes si- um, alright.”
“You have any skills boy?”
“No.”
“Any talents?”
“I can read and write?”
“Wow. How extraordinarily mundane.”
Hayden scowled.
“Here. drink this.”
Gideon Stroud pushed a glass onto the table.
Hayden scrunched up his face, reached down for the glass, and froze.
A benign slice of lemon garnished the rim of the glass, dipping into a strange, green liquid. Floating in the center of that liquid: a bloodshot, mutated eyeball with two strange purple irises, still attached to red tendrils of optic nerve...
“AHHHHHH!” Hayden leapt up and scrabbled backwards, screaming.
“Sit. Back. Down, it’s an eyeball in a glass not a godsdamn lich. What are you screaming for.”
“W-Who’s eye is that?”
“Yours.”
“What?”
“Sit.” He commanded, and Hayden slowly slunk back into the armchair. As he moved, he felt as if the eye in the glass rotated to follow him. Gideon leaned in and spoke.
“What’s the most powerful weapon you know of?”
“What does that have to do with the eyeb-”
“Ignore the eyeball. Answer the question.”
“...The king’s sword, Lacrima.”
“Weak. Stronger than that.”
“Oceaneater? The legendary ocean swallowing greataxe, heavier than a thousand seas.”
“Better, but still weak. Is that as far as your knowledge goes?”
Hayden frowned. “The archdemon Grimellgaast collects destroyed cities, and she uses the suffering of everyone who ever died there to forge them into powerful weapons of destruction. Her most dangerous weapon is a city called New York, it’s powerful enough to destroy entire realms... But that’s just a fairytale...”
“Not a fairytale. Real. You’ve finally given me a useful example.”
He pointed a finger at the glass. “That’s your New York, boy. Drink now, and one day you’ll be as strong as an archdemon.”
Hayden looked at the glass in revulsion.
“I’m not going to drink that.”
“Yes you will. Maybe not today, no. But you will.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Legendary weapons choose their wielders, boy. This one chose YOU.”
“I don’t need a weapon. And I definitely don’t need THAT.”
Gideon Stroud smiled, and leaned back in his chair. “Come back when you do. It’ll be here.”
Hayden frowned, unconvinced.
“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Gideon made a dismissive gesture.
Hayden hastily excused himself, ran out of the house, and jumped on his bike. The eyeball in the glass watched him through the window as he pedaled away.
That night, a fire broke out in the city of Lecliss, and Gideon Stroud’s house at the end of the quiet street burned to the ground. The man himself vanished without a trace.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
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I ripped the quest off the board decisively. [10,000 CLAW SUBJUGATION: THE MANSION AGGREGATE ]. It’s got a lot of unknowns, but the other two are absolutely certain deathtraps. It’s still poison, but it’s my preferred poison, all things considered.
I made my decision and came back to the present, and felt something out of place. I thought that I was just too focused on picking a quest to notice the sounds of the guild, but even now, the room is absolutely silent. Hah. I wonder if they noticed the teenager ripping a death quest off the board and were stunned into silence. I grit my teeth, clutched the parchment tighter in my hands, and turned aroun-
SLAM!
Only to slam straight into someone behind me in a long black cloak that I didn’t notice and end up on my ass... what the hell! Why does this feel so familiar!
I looked up at the person in front of me. Tall, lithe, ambiguously gendered beneath their dark cloak. Their face was completely shrouded by shadow that seemed to overflow from within their hood. Yeah I’m sure of it. This is the same person I bumped into earlier in the evening. Whoever they are, slamming into them hurts about as much as running straight into a brick wall. I need to stop doing this before it becomes a habit.
The person in the dark cloak held out a hand to me.
I was about to take it when I remembered: this person is a fae. Touching them, even indirectly, heals you, but drains life force from them. While the healing is nice, I don’t really want to take advantage of someone if I can help it.
“I'm fine, thanks.”
I stood up on my own, and tried to walk around them, but the hand was still there, reaching out to me.
“What, you want this?” I held the quest up and waved it back and forth and they followed it slowly with their hands, while nodding.
“Too bad. I got it first.”
The figure’s shoulders drooped in obvious depression.
Haha. What a strange person.
“Party with me. We can take it together.”
The person in the cloak paused for a moment, then slowly nodded.
“Great! You’re strong right?”
They shook their head side to side.
“No? Uh, you know this is a death quest, right?”
They nodded. Ah. My first party member is suicidal.
I walked to the counter with the black cloaked person trailing behind me. Before, no one noticed me at all but now, everyone in the room is focused on... the person behind me?
Before we reached the counter, Garam stood before us, smiling gently, while radiating an aggressive aura.
“Now, I’m not sure where you come from, stranger, but here in Lecliss, we don’t wear Obscuras cloaks in adventurers guilds.” His fiendfire swirled, and a massive firey axe appeared in each of his hands. “I’m going to have to ask you to either disrobe on your own, or wait there for us to cut it off you ourselves.”
Blades were drawn from sheathes as nearly every adventurer present prepared for a fight.
I stumbled backwards and my teeth chattered as countless powerful auras crashed down on us.
Under the watchful eyes of the entire room, the person in the black cloak let down their hood,
“WHOOOAAAAA!”
and instantly drew gasps of admiration from the crowd as her glittering blonde hair fell down and framed her small face. She unclasped the cloak and pulled it off her shoulders,
“OOOOOHHHHHH!”
and drew even more of a reaction when the shimmering moth-like wings on her back were displayed for all to see. The lightly armored fae woman stood at the center of the crowd, put a hand to her chest, curtsied slightly, and spoke. “I am Halo Lightwing. I apologize for all the commotion.”
“WHAAAAAAAAA!!!!”
and she drew the largest reaction yet as everyone in the room pushed to get a closer look.
I blinked at their reaction. Is she someone famous?
Garam’s two axes turned back into the formless fire by his horns, and he bowed to Halo. “Champion Lightwing, it’s an honor. I apologize for my rudeness earlier. What brings you to Lecliss, and how can I help?”
She didn’t answer, and simply turned to look at me. And then everyone in the room looked at me too. Shit. Well. Let’s start the sales pitch.
I walked past Garam, and the crowd parted for me and Halo.
Champion Lightwing huh... I don’t know exactly what that means, but hopefully I can use this.
“My name is Hayden Waltess.”
I placed the quest papers on the countertop.
“A week ago, my little sister Shale became deathly ill.”
Halo brought over a pen and ink.
“I sold nearly everything I owned to get the claws to afford doctors and treatments, but none of them helped, she just got worse.”
Halo dipped the pen in the ink, and signed her name beneath the hundred others on the parchment.
“So I brought her to Lord Moddity.”
Grumbles of discontent echoed across the crowd at the mention of the man’s name. Good to see I’m not the only one who hates him.
“With his power, Dr. Moddity can easily treat my sister, but he won’t unless I give him 600 claws. There’s no way I could have that much money. He’s sentencing her to die.”
Halo handed me the pen.
“But I’m not here to ask for your money.”
“My name is Hayden Waltess.”
I scrawled my name onto the parchment.
“And I’m going on a death quest to save my sister.”
I held out the pen to the crowd.
“Who’s coming with me?”
Uneasy laughter, mockery, open contempt, yeah, they reacted about how I thought they would.
“Not asking for our money, just our lives. Oh, because I’ll have so many things to buy in my grave! Bah.”
“So he’s just a beggar in the end? Tch.”
“You’re a liability to a party on the most basic of quests, much less a quest with a 100% fatality rate.”
“Yeah, and I’m the liability that had the damn balls to pull this quest off the board. I’m the liability giving YOU the opportunity to make more claws now than you’ll make in the next 5 years combined. I’m the liability giving YOU the opportunity to fight alongside Champion Lightwing! I’m the liability giving YOU the opportunity to make a name for yourself, a name that goes down in the history books of Lecliss! You should be begging ME to join! Let me be clear here. I’m not looking for adventurers who’re looking for easy work and quick profits. I’m looking for heroes. The heroes my sister needs to save her life, and hopefully bring her brother back to her in one piece. Cowards and weaklings need not apply!”
I stood side by side with Halo and watched as the adventurers before me digested my words. I really don’t have a better way to persuade them to die for me if this doesn’t work. I crossed my fingers.
“You’re crazy. No one’s going to-”
“I’ll join.”
The mixed race deer beastwoman I saw earlier with the bow stood out from the crowd.
“Risking my life to help someone in need... It’s a no brainer really, right?”
She smiled as she signed the parchment.
I looked at her gratefully.
“Thank you.”
She put her hand on my shoulder.
“I’m Maude. Let’s get your little sister the help she needs. And let’s try our hardest not to all die out there! I really don’t want to die!”
She bit at her nails after delivering that uplifting and reassuring speech.
“You’ll need a wayfinder. The mansion aggregate is not to be underestimated.”
The drunk elv priest staggered over, looking anything but reliable.
Halo nodded at him. “We’d appreciate a priest of Kry by our side.”
“And you’ll have him! Cassius, to be precise. Me, to be more precise. Soon as the room stops spinning, of course.”
He picked up the pen, and after a couple of tries, managed to scrawl his name onto the rough parchment.
In the corner, the huge gaian man and the massive fiend were still locked in their arm wrestling stalemate. The gaian man looked between us and his rival with indecision, then finally spoke.
“My friend, how’s about we call this one a draw?”
“If you have somewhere you need to be, you can just give up, I don’t mind.”
“You, you, fiend!”
“Haha.”
Slam! The gaian man relaxed his arm, and the fiend slammed it to the table, grinning.
He stood up, massaging the back of his hand, and walked over.
“Sigh. A death quest is it? Why the hell not. Icezack Truth, spellsword, at your service.”
He took the pen and quickly signed with a flourish.
“That bit about heroes, that swayed me, kid. Always wanted to be a hero, myself.” He grinned. “And a cut of 10,000 claws, well that sways me quite a bit.”
I looked at the signatures on the parchment and locked eyes with each of my new party members. Maude O’connor, the beastwoman huntress. Cassius of Dun-Brabben, the elven priest of Kry. Icezack Truth, the gaian spellsword. And Halo Lightwing... I wonder what she can do?
I walked over to Garam with the quest parchment. He stared down at me. I handed him the parchment, and stared straight back. He heaved a great sigh, and the parchment turned into five glowing magic circles that shot into each of our heads. I blinked as a rush of information appeared in my mind.
“May Illtreat be kind to you, adventurers.” He shook his head as he walked away.
“So... when do we leave?” Cassius slurred a question.
“Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“My sister only has two days to live. We’ve got no time. “
“Aisssh... I may not have agreed to this if you would have led with that...” Icezack grumbled.
“That’s why I didn’t lead with it.”
“Cheeky kid.”
“I’ll need some time to prepare.” Cassius grimaced, wobbling.
“We all need some time to prepare. Should I write a will?” Maude pondered.
“We’ll meet at the transport well in an hour. Be ready.”
The adventurers nodded and departed. I stepped out of the guild hall and let out a tense breath. It’s all set in motion now.
Phewww. I’m probably going to need a weapon, aren’t I?
“...I might as well check, right?”
I looked down the street and started off at a light jog. I, not for the first time today, had a slight pang in my heart as I breathed with exertion.
“I miss my bike.”
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I stopped at the end of a long, quiet street, in front of a blackened ruin that used to be the home of Gideon Stroud. Years ago, he tried to get me to drink an eyeball, and promised that I’d actually want to someday.
“...I still don’t want to drink it.”
I hopped over the low fence and walked over the wreckage.
“About, here, right?”
I stood in the spot where the study used to be,waiting in the weeds for something to happen. Did he bury it? Should I be digging instead of standing here like an idiot? Was he just messing with me the whole time? I scratched my head.
“Aish, it was a dumb thought anyway.”
I turned to walk away.
Thump.
And something thumped on the ground behind me. I looked back and saw a black satchel on the ground, a ring of dust expanding around it as if it had just dropped from the sky. I looked around. Of course no one was there.
I walked over, picked it up, and looked inside. I found a jar of green liquid with that damn eyeball inside, staring at me, and a note that read: ‘told ya, boy.’
Godsdamned mages.
I left the jar in the satchel and put it over my shoulder, deciding to never drink it except as a last resort. I looked up at the sky as I pondered all the information the quest planted in my mind. I probably have about 40 minutes left before it's time to leave. Where should I go...