Chapter 1: Graduation

I stop at the end of the bridge, knowing that this is the last time I will cross it… I look back at the college, the building's surreal architecture bending the light at odd angles as the randomly connected towers loom in the gently cloudy sky. I feel at the Sages pin, my pin, reminding myself that it is real… that I graduated… The large copper circlet is the sigil of my new office, proclaiming me a Sage to any who see it. I coo at intricately wrought copper scales, the eyes made from obsidian flakes… I trace the circular shape of the badge with my finger, finding the point where the dragon begins eating its own tail… a symbol of the cycles, and of my new life.

With a heartfelt sigh which releases years of pent up stress and expectations, I let go of all the fun and wonder, all the bonds and heartache, and embrace the knowledge that I am leaving this place a better man. Finally, I turn away from the college, my new grey traveling cloak flowing in the wind, and head to the market. 

I follow the wide winding road which follows along the river which separates the college from the heart of Endymion city. The streets around me buzz with life and death, wagons creak under the weight of goods, shopkeepers shout over each other about their wares, beggars and wounded soldiers slump against walls and in dark alleys. I watch this all with fresh eyes, those of a trained sage, I smile as street urchins dash by me, one bumps into me, finding nothing in my pocket, their laughter echoing off the high stone walls as they scamper away. I shake my head at their courage, and keep moving, knowing that this is the last chance for any quality gear before heading out into the countryside.

The closer I get to the market, the more overwhelming it becomes compared to the silent study halls I have been used to for the last four years and when I reach the bazaar, the noise becomes deafening, too loud even to hear the various myn from all over the kingdom calling out, trying to grab my and others attention all while doing their haggling best. The smell of spices, vendor offerings, and animal filth all commingle into a scent which is so complex and layered it very well might be one step away from sentience. Good gods this smell! It reminds me of my time with the King’s Auxiliaries… but then I chuckle and wonder if I'll ever think back on this smell with fondness?

I pass by a crier standing on a crate near the edge of the market, they are shouting about unrest in the north, “Following the loss at Coggeshall Valley deserter bands have been seen across the countryside! The King’s Guardian force is stretched thin! Beware the roads!” His words carry over the noise, drawing dark looks and murmurs from the crowd. I can’t help but notice that most of those around me have patched cloaks and visible blades, wary stances and tired eyes, all signs of the trouble they had faced. Deserters huh… not that I don’t sympathize, I got out as soon as I could after all.

It didn’t take long after that to find the best of the homesteading supply stalls which I had scouted out a few weeks before I graduated. The college provides its graduates with a stipend to purchase anything they might need for their assignments, but because everything had been provided for me at the college, and even in the military all the supplies I needed were issued to me, my combined life experiences left me terrible at haggling and with no knowledge of proper pricing. However, I was a pretty good judge of character, and so I figured I could wing it.

In the end I used the ol’ ‘go with your gut’ theory and picked the most interesting looking merchant, that being an old Turtlemyn sporting a large crack in his shell. As I approach him, I note that the crack had been patched up with a silvery metal that had later been engraved with flowing runes in a language I associated with the southern sailing tribes. The Turtlemyn eyes me as I enter his area while leaning on a gnarled and sturdy staff. Now that I am this close I get to take a closer look at what really attracted me though, he is selling his goods off of shelves which are carved into the side of his cart, itself being a gigantic sea monster's shell on wheels. A few large lobster creatures, which were harnessed for travel, clicked and clattered around the side of the cart where they were tied. 

The Turtlemyn nods to me when I am done ogling at the shelving, then raises his brow as he takes note of my pin. “Oh!” His speech pattern is slow and deliberate, “A new Sage graces the world.” He reaches his old paw out to me, “I have discounted prices special for new graduates, to make sure you leave with your best foot forward!” He gives me a very slow wink.

I grin and shake the old snappers hand, “I thank you honored elder, I could certainly use the help.” I lean in conspiratorially, “I’m garbage at handling money.” I wink back at him.

The old one chuckles, sounding like a bass drum hiccupping, and he pulls me towards his goods showing off the various tools that someone (me) starting a new life in a small town might need, as well as those that someone (me) who would be going on a decently long journey to get there might find handy. All the time though, instead of letting me stop and consider, he gently guides me onward, always saying that I should view all his stock before making a decision. 

At last the merchant arrives at the most well lit, best decorated shelf space whose goods are all covered in a heavy cloth. These shelves had been carved to depict a pack of… large mountains? Migrating across a rough ocean, huge beats in the water seem to both threaten and swim with the mountain folk. 

The old shell looks at me with genuine excitement, “These young man,” I chuckle at the compliment, “Are the future!” With a sweep of his heavy arm he removes the cloth and reveals an eclectic collection of strange looking gemstones, each their own color, size, and cut. They shimmer with an otherworldly light that seems erratic at first, but swiftly all begin to pulse in time with my heartbeat.

The gems are each arranged more or less in categories of small, medium, and large. The smaller gems hum softly, their energy steady but faint, while the medium and larger ones radiate chaotic bursts of color and movement, as if alive, or impatient. I reach my hand out, but the merchant coughs loudly, “Before you touch one, you must know that there is a cost to the connection… and they can sense you right now.” I jerk my arm back, he nods and goes on, “Making contact in this context is similar to forming a spiritual bond.”

I blink at that, and with wonder in my voice, I whisper, “What are they?”

The old merchant grins, slipping easily into his pitch, “Dungeon Cores!” The Turtlemyn’s voice rises, rich with pride, “Once the treasure of nobles or the spoils of daring adventurers, these marvels have been tamed and domesticated through breakthroughs in core magics! Now, anyone with enough patience and wit can wield their power!” The Turtlemyn gestures at the crystals, “Each one of these beauties is able to absorb life essence itself, it takes and transforms that energy into anything you have previously fed to it! Craft the perfect item? Your favorite tool break? Feed it to the core, then, by making the appropriate offering, and see it replicated before your eyes!” 

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The merchant really hits his stride, losing all sense of old age as he fills with excitement, “You see, within these beautiful little gems lies the soul of a monster, the larger and more complex the gem, the greater the intellect and complexity of the soul within, and thus the easier time you will have teaching it.” The merchant chuckles, “It wouldn’t do to put a chicken in charge of defending your homestead now would it?”

I laugh, but I am entranced by the swirling chaos of these cores, “A dungeon core huh…” I think back to the dungeon my unit stumbled across back when I was still in the Aux... The wounded that came out of there were horrific, many of them dying from strange poisons before I could tend to them… “I am no great mage, nor a wealthy man… how could I get something powerful enough to be useful and yet keep it from, well, killing me?”

The turtle taps his nose twice, “A wise question young Sage, and the answer lies in the binding process that has made this possible for people like you and me.” He leans in, and pulls a scroll off the shelf, waving it while speaking in a hushed tone, “There is a ritual you must perform,” he taps the scroll tip to his palm, “A little blood and the right words, and you will form a pact with the creature inside the core which binds it to your will.” He looks at me knowingly, “Now, this will not strip the creature of its mind, but it will compel it to obey your commands.” The merchant looks sternly, “This is enough for a start, but it will then be up to you to form a relationship with your core.” The Turtlemyn looks me in the eyes, “A willing core is infinitely more valuable than a slave.”

I nod, my mind totally lost in a future of: me, my pet dungeon, and any food or tool I want on demand at any time… I may have started to drool. 

The merchant chuckles again, “Now… I don’t mean to pry, but I do know how much the college gives to its graduates for their travel expenses.” I look sheepish, he winks and continues, “I don’t believe that the smaller gems would suffice for someone like you, and the larger ones are out of your reach but…” 

That lingering possibility makes me burn with hope, the turtlemyn continues, “There was a strange creature who attacked my family as they docked to deliver these cores.” The turtle points to a bizarrely cut, deep azure gem, the angles bizarre and seem to follow no pattern I can make out. Inside the gemstone is a swirling chaotic purple haze which pulls at my attention. The light within seems to be probing the edges of its crystalline prison, restless and defiant. The Turtlemyn goes on, “They said it had many limbs, and that it burst from the ocean!” He laughs, “Apparently, instead of food or shipmates, it attempted to steal a chest of precious metals that was being loaded onto the shellship.” 

The turtle shrugs, “They suggested that the beast was an aberrant, and while it wasn’t terribly difficult to defeat,” the gem seems to shudder in outrage, the merchant continues, “It was smart enough to nearly get away with it, so I figure it must be better than most of my mid to low range cores…” He winks and whispers, “They said it tasted pretty good too.”

I have to have this thing… I cough to cover my need and manage to say, “How much?”

The Turtlemyn’s eyes gleam with quiet triumph as he leans back on his staff, his slow grin like the creak of an ancient door, “Well, if you take this strange core off my hands you would be doing me a favor so…” He pretends to think for a moment, “Ten gold pieces.”

I choke, this bastard, he knows exactly how much I have and he wants it all! I was only planning on spending five gold at most, planning on saving the rest in case I need anything when I reach my new home, “That’s… everything I have.”

The Merchant smiles, “I like you kid, and I know the kinds of things a new Sage like yourself needs for the road… so buy this core from me and I’ll throw in all the basic gear you were going to get for your journey, what do you say?”

I tremble as I reach my hand out towards the core, unwilling to buy a living being without its consent, without it knowing what is happening… The old merchant watches, but he doesn’t stop me this time, knowing I made up my mind. The moment my fingers brush the core, an electric pulse surges through me, not painful but impossibly discordant and intense. It crashes into my essence like waves on a rocky shore, each one carrying something raw… hunger, fear, a desperate longing. Then, beneath it all, a spark of something I almost miss: hope. The connection is visceral, as if this creature is not just aware of me but pleading for its chance to belong. For a heartbeat, I feel our souls overlap, and it takes my breath away… 

I try to tell it what I want, try to feed my desire for a partner, that we could be friends, that I was going to need help on my mission, and I can tell that my thoughts are just as alien to it as its are to me. But, freedom, from this place, from the people who killed it, who trapped it? Now that resonates with it, the pulsing becomes more severe, pain springs into my arm, through my chest, and up my spine. I grit my teeth, and push my own essence back at it, forcing the energy back, until it reaches a balance point between me and it. Then, with a chime like a drop of water on a still pond, our bond is formed, and the pulse synchronizes with my heartbeat, becoming one with it.

About an hour later I walk out of the Turtlemyn’s store sporting a new backpack, a bedroll, some basic tools for working and cooking, as well as a week's worth of travel rations. The kind old merchant even left me with three copper pieces for good luck and waves to me as I head towards the city's southern gates. He calls out to me before I leave earshot, “Tao protect you Sage!”

I smile, my new partner wrapped and packed carefully away, feeling the freedom of my new road, and the weight of a task worth doing, to go somewhere I am needed… to be of use to the world. I pull my cloak tighter around me as the city gates loom closer. The road beyond is unknown to me, as I had come from the north when I first entered the city, and though the weight of my new role settles heavily on my shoulders, it also feels... right. For the first time in years, the path I tread is one I wish to walk.

I should save the copper really, but I pass by a really cute little Mousemyn baker with a tiny little apron selling sticky buns with pecans that were bigger than her. In the end I decline to keep myself from buying one and even end up tipping her the last coin I had before wishing her well… and damn, one bite in and the warmth mixed with the caramel crunch… it was one of the best treats I had eaten in a long time… 

Just before leaving Endymion, I spot several older beggars slumped against the outer wall, crying after the carts which flow in and out of the city. One in particular grabs my attention, his legs ending in crude stumps, the scars telling of a hasty battlefield amputation. I try not to tear up as I am reminded of all the soldiers I had failed to save in the Aux. I kneel down to him, his hollow eyes stare right through me, but he holds out his hands.. The shorter hair and bearing of his shoulders, even now, mark him as an old soldier. I take what is left of my pastry, “Here,” I say softly, pressing it into his hands along with a pulse of healing energy. His fingers tremble as he grips the bread, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. 

“Bless you, Sage,” he murmurs, his voice rough with gratitude. I offer a small smile and nod, stepping away, squaring my shoulders and heading out the city gates.