Ebony rode through the morning mist, the rising sun casting a warm glow on the fog-shrouded countryside. The air was crisp, with a gentle warmth that hinted at the coming spring. He savored the peaceful solitude, the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves against the damp earth a soothing counterpoint to his racing thoughts.
An hour and a half had passed since Ebony parted ways with Amilco and Mei. his Shaolin robes replaced with brown leather clothes and a light blue blanket draped over his shoulders. He wanted to blend in, to avoid drawing attention to himself as he journeyed towards Dimito.
Ebony rode with his eyes closed, his fingers plucking a soothing melody on his lute. The music filled the air, a comforting presence in the quiet morning. He lost himself in the rhythm, his worries fading as he focused on the music. His horse, well-trained and familiar with the path, plodded steadily towards Dimito.
Occasionally, Ebony would pass other travelers on the road. They would glance at him, their eyes drawn to the unfamiliar figure with the lute. But Ebony, absorbed in his music, barely noticed them. He continued his journey, the melody guiding him forward.
Ebony opened his eyes, taking in the surrounding countryside. Farms and fields stretched out before him, a familiar sight that brought back memories of his journey after being banished. He had stowed away in a merchant's cart, cold and hungry, seeking shelter from the harsh weather.
But those days were behind him now. He was a different person, stronger and more resilient. He pushed those memories aside, focusing on the present.
He reached a crossroads and encountered a man with a horse-drawn carriage. The man, wearing a straw hat, stood dozing by the roadside, seemingly waiting for someone. The carriage, a covered curricle with ample space for passengers and cargo, was draped with a thick cloth, its contents hidden from view.
Ebony approached cautiously, his hand instinctively hovering near his sword hilt. As he drew closer, the man stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at Ebony, a friendly smile spreading across his face.
"Well met, traveler!" the man greeted him, his voice warm and welcoming. "Might you be heading towards Dimito?"
Ebony nodded, his gaze shifting between the man and the curricle. "I am," he replied, his voice cautious. "Do you offer passage?"
"Indeed I do," the man confirmed, gesturing towards the carriage. "For a reasonable fee, of course."
Ebony hesitated, his suspicions rising. He had learned to be wary of strangers, especially those offering unsolicited assistance. "What's in the carriage?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
The man chuckled. "Trade goods, mostly. Nothing of interest to a traveler like yourself."
Ebony noticed the holes in the carriage. "What happened? Were you attacked?"
The man shrugged. "Almost. A couple of thugs tried to ambush me, but I managed to fend them off."
Ebony rolled his eyes. "Of course you did," he muttered under his breath. "It's always dangerous on the roads. The lack of accountability in this country is appalling." He was disappointed, but not surprised, that such dangers still persisted.
Ebony remained unconvinced. He examined the carriage closely, noting the thick cloth that obscured its contents. "I'll pass," he said finally. "I prefer to travel on my own."
The man shrugged, his smile fading slightly. "Suit yourself," he said. "But if you change your mind, you'll find me here."
Ebony nodded curtly and continued on his way, his hand never straying far from his sword. He reached the crossroads, the weathered signpost pointing towards Dimito, 4 miles away. The other path led to Tomatoes, the capital, 24 miles away, and Iomud, 6 miles away.
"Just a couple more miles," Ebony murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
Suddenly, a rustle in the bushes to his right caught his attention. He tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the shortsword at his hip. He drew the blade, its familiar weight settling comfortably in his grip.
He peered into the undergrowth, his senses heightened, expecting danger.
A small rodent scurried out, its tiny form a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped him.
Ebony chuckled, shaking his head at his own jumpiness. He sheathed his sword, a reminder to stay alert but not overly paranoid.
Just as he was about to continue his journey, a voice called out, "Excuse me, sir?"
Ebony turned to see a woman approaching. She was hunched over, her gray cloak obscuring her features. Her voice was raspy, her body frail. Ebony, though wary, maintained a calm demeanor.
Ebony approached the woman cautiously, his hand hovering near his sword hilt. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle but alert.
"Please, sir," the woman croaked, her voice trembling. "I've been robbed and left with nothing. Those vile elves attacked my village, killed my family, and burned my home.
I have nothing left." She extended a shaking hand, her eyes pleading. "Could you spare a pittance? Anything at all?"
Ebony's heart went out to her, but he remained cautious. He had learned to be wary of strangers, especially in these uncertain times. "I'm sorry," he replied, "but I don't have much to spare myself."
The woman's pleas grew more desperate. "Please, sir," she begged, "I have nothing left. I've lost everything." She fell to her knees, her hands clasped together. "Please, have mercy."
Ebony hesitated. He examined her closely, his eyes lingering on her hands. They were smooth and unblemished, not the hands of someone who had endured hardship.
Yet, they were rough and withered, with little scratches and bruises on them.
"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.
The woman looked up, startled. "Old enough to have borne children," she replied, her voice hoarse. "They were just babies when those monsters took them from me."
Ebony's suspicions grew. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small pouch of coins. It wasn't much, but it was all he could spare. He tossed it to the woman, watching her closely.
As she scrambled to catch the pouch, her cloak fell open, revealing a glint of metal at her hip. Ebony's eyes narrowed. It was a dagger, the telltale sign of a thief.
"Knew it," Ebony muttered under his breath. Ebony, unfazed, lunged forward, snatching the dagger from the woman's grasp. Before she could recover, he delivered a swift roundhouse kick, sending her sprawling to the ground
Suddenly, from the same bushes that had rustled earlier, a rat emerged. It scurried towards Ebony, then, right before his eyes, began to transform. The rat grew, shifted, and within moments, stood as a man, a bandit with a blade raised high
Ebony, though startled, reacted instantly. He drew his shortsword and parried the bandit's attack. With a practiced twist of his wrist, he disarmed the thug, sending the blade skittering across the path. He followed up with a knuckle strike to the face, then a swift kick to the shin, bringing the bandit crashing down.
As the bandits lay defeated, the man in the straw hat, his face contorted with rage, pulled out a small crossbow. Multiple crossbows emerged from hidden compartments in the cart, their arrowheads glinting menacingly.
Ebony turned just in time to hear the click of the crossbows, followed by a volley of arrows. He reacted instantly, dropping into a powerful stance and stomping his foot on the ground. A wall of earth erupted, intercepting the arrows before they could reach him and his horse.
Ebony grabbed another shortsword from his bag, yelling at his horse, "Run! Run!" He slapped the reins, and the horse bolted, galloping away from the ambush.
"Run, sweetie, run!" Ebony shouted, his voice filled with urgency. He turned back to face his attackers, his swords raised, ready to defend himself.
Ebony unsheathed his second shortsword, wielding a blade in each hand. He took cover behind the earthen wall he had created, waiting for his attackers.
Moments later, six bandits emerged from the cart, their armor glinting in the sunlight. They were armed with an assortment of weapons: knives, swords, crossbows, makeshift bombs, and throwing knives. Their gear and attire spoke of a ruthless determination, a willingness to kill for their spoils.
Three bandits lunged at Ebony from behind the wall, their blades flashing. Ebony, with remarkable agility, blocked and dodged each attack. The earthen barrier protected him from their strikes, keeping them at bay.
Suddenly, a fourth bandit leaped over the wall, crossbow raised. He fired, the bolt whizzing past Ebony's face, narrowly missing its mark.
As Ebony spun through the air, the bandit on the wall fired another bolt. But Ebony, with incredible reflexes, kicked out with his right leg, a blast of fire erupting from his boot and intercepting the arrow mid-flight.
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Ebony reacted instantly. He planted his hands on the ground, channeling his energy. He performed a breakdancing windmill, using the momentum to push the three bandits back.
He came to a stop, crouched, and then, with a powerful kick, launched himself upward. The bandit on the wall tried to strike him mid-air, but Ebony reached the peak of his arc, dodged and countered by unleashing a fiery blast from his foot, engulfing the archer in flames sending the bandit tumbling.
The archer, though burned, quickly discarded his flaming cloth, escaping serious injury.
Ebony landed on the earthen wall, exposed to the remaining bandits. The man in the straw hat ordered them to fire, but Ebony dodged their arrows and unleashed a double-fisted fire blast at the cart. The bandits scrambled out, fleeing like rats from their hole.
The three bandits from earlier charged, but Ebony's spin kick sent them flying with a gust of wind.
The woman who had pretended to be a beggar tried to escape, but Ebony threw her own dagger, stopping her in her tracks.
"None of you are going anywhere," he declared with a devilish smile. "This is too good to pass up. You're all going to help me practice my abilities."
"I can finally let loose," Ebony said, his smile widening. He cracked his knuckles, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and determination.
He sheathed his swords, confident in his ability to defeat the remaining bandits with his bare hands. He moved with the precision and grace of a Shaolin master, his years of training evident in every strike.
One bandit lunged, but Ebony parried the blow and countered with a swift kick, sending the attacker sprawling. Another bandit threw a bomb, but Ebony dodged the explosion with ease. He disarmed one bandit with a swift kick, then disabled another with a precise strike to the wrist.
The remaining bandits, overwhelmed by Ebony's skill, faltered. Ebony pressed his advantage, his attacks relentless. He channeled his elemental powers, summoning water to wrap around his hands, forming blades that sliced through the air.
He unleashed a barrage of attacks: earth fists, fire punches, whirlwind kicks, and a double kick that sent two bandits flying.
Within moments, the remaining bandits lay defeated. Ebony stood amidst the carnage, victorious and unscathed. He had survived the ambush, his Shaolin training proving its worth.
The bandit who had transformed from a rat lay on the ground, his mind reeling from the transformation and Ebony's attacks.
He felt a throbbing pain in his head, a concussion making his vision blur. But despite the pain, a surge of anger and determination coursed through him. He would not be defeated.
He spotted a discarded dagger near his fallen comrade and lunged for it, his hand closing tightly around the hilt. He stumbled to his feet, his body still unsteady from the transformation. He charged towards Ebony, his blade raised high, ready to strike.
Ebony, sensing the movement behind him, turned just in time to see the bandit bearing down on him. He braced himself, ready to disarm and subdue the attacker. But before he could react, a sharp whistling sound pierced the air.
An arrow, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, struck the bandit in the head. The force of the impact sent the bandit's body flying backward, his lifeless form landing with a thud at Ebony's feet.
Ebony stared in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief. The bandit's blood splattered across his clothes, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold finality of death. He had been so focused on the fight, so determined to protect himself, that he hadn't noticed the other attacker.
He looked up, his gaze following the trajectory of the arrow. In the distance, it was a man on Horseback who fired the arrow.
Ebony, still reeling from the sudden turn of events, knelt down and gently closed the bandit's eyes.
He had been an enemy, a threat, but in this moment, Ebony felt a pang of sympathy for the fallen man. He had been caught in a web of violence, his life cut short by forces beyond his control.
Ebony looked up to see a man on horseback approaching. The man, slouched in his saddle, projected an air of nonchalant laziness.
His fair skin was tanned from countless hours spent outdoors, and his blonde hair, unkempt and windblown, framed a face that seemed perpetually sleepy. Yet, behind those half-lidded golden eyes, a sharp intelligence flickered, a hint of the brilliant strategist hidden beneath the façade of a carefree wanderer.
"Looks like you handled those miscreants," the man drawled, his voice a low rumble that carried a hint of amusement. "Saved me the trouble."
Ebony, though wary, couldn't help but be intrigued by the man's contradictory demeanor. He was clearly no ordinary traveler.
His armor, though dusty and slightly dented, was of fine craftsmanship, the steel blue and gold finish hinting at a noble background. And the small army of men positioned behind him, their disciplined posture a stark contrast to their leader's relaxed stance, spoke of a seasoned commander.
"My name is Overton," the man introduced himself, a slow smile spreading across his face. "And you are?"
Ebony, never one to miss an opportunity to showcase his flair, puffed out his chest and declared, "I am Ebony Gundo, a humble bard, at your service." He gestured towards the defeated bandits with a flourish. "As you can see, I'm not just a singer of songs. I also dabble in the art of bashing skulls."
Overton's smile widened, revealing a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Indeed, you seem quite capable," he drawled, his gaze sweeping over the scene. "A bard with a knack for combat. A rare combination."
Ebony, pleased with the compliment, bowed theatrically. "Why, thank you, Master Overton. Your praise is music to my ears."
Overton chuckled, the sound a low rumble that seemed to shake the ground beneath them. "Master!? Hehe, No need for formalities, bard. Just Overton is fine." He glanced around, spotting Ebony's horse nearby. "Is that your trusty steed?"
Ebony turned to see one of Overton's men leading his horse back to him. The animal, though slightly skittish from the commotion, appeared unharmed. "Yes, that's my noble companion," Ebony confirmed, relief washing over him. He was grateful that his faithful mount had escaped the ambush unscathed.
"Good thing you didn't have to resort to more... drastic measures," Overton commented, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Your horse would have bolted for sure.
I witnessed the whole spectacle through my trusty binoculars." He leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "Where did you learn to fight like that, bard? You move with the grace of a seasoned warrior."
Ebony straightened his posture, his confidence returning. He donned his bard persona, the one he used to captivate audiences and navigate tricky situations.
"You must know, good sir," he announced, his voice carrying a hint of theatricality, "that I am Ebony Gundo, a humble bard." He mounted his horse with a flourish, drawing his lute. He strummed a few chords, the melody echoing through the clearing. "As you can see, good sir, I am master of the blade, the elements and speech."
Ebony, his confidence bolstered by Overton's praise, straightened his posture. "I've had the privilege of training with some of the finest masters in the land," he replied, his voice filled with pride. "They taught me the art of harnessing my inner strength, of channeling the elements to enhance my abilities."
Overton's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Harnessing the elements? Intriguing. You're no ordinary bard, are you?"
Ebony grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Indeed, "A bard with a certain level of combat prowess," Ebony added with a wink, his fingers dancing across the lute strings. "A rare combination,.....indeed.
Overton's men, intrigued by Ebony's flamboyant display, watched with a mix of amusement and admiration. Whispers rippled through their ranks, some expressing awe at his skills, others contemplating the possibility of recruiting him. A few remained skeptical, their doubts fueled by the distance that had prevented them from witnessing the full extent of Ebony's elemental prowess.
Overton, sensing the shift in his men's attitudes, turned back to Ebony. "So, you're heading to Dimito, I presume?" he inquired, a knowing glint in his eyes.
"Indeed," Ebony confirmed, puffing out his chest with a hint of pride. "I'm returning to my homeland to seek new opportunities, new adventures. To make a name for myself that will echo through the ages."
Overton chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to reverberate through the surrounding trees. "Well, good luck getting in," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"That place has become quite expensive."
Ebony's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Expensive?" he echoed, his voice laced with confusion.
"Oh, you didn't know?" Overton said, feigning innocence. "I'm sure you remember when it cost 500 pearls to enter the capital, right?"
Ebony's face fell. "Yes," he mumbled, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.
"Well, now it's upwards of 800," Overton revealed, a sly grin spreading across his face.
Ebony's jaw dropped. "800 pearls?" he exclaimed, his voice cracking with disbelief. He fumbled with his lute, his fingers hitting a sour note that echoed through the clearing. "That's robbery!"
Overton chuckled, taking a swig from a purple flask marked with three red Xs. "Yep," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "it's been increasing by 10% every year. Started at 500 pearls five years ago, then 550, 605, 665... and so on." He grinned, enjoying Ebony's stunned expression. "It's basic economics, my friend. Supply and demand. Dimito's got plenty of demand, but they're keeping the supply artificially low. Makes those entry fees skyrocket."
Ebony, his brow furrowed in concern, looked down at his lute, tuning the strings with a practiced hand. "So," he began, his voice hesitant, "is it because of the invasion?
The one with those... what do they call themselves?"
Overton swirled the liquid in his flask, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Oh, you mean the elves?" he offered, his tone casual.
Ebony frowned. "No, not the elves. Alfar, I think they're called. The ones up north, invading from another continent."
Overton's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Alfar? Never heard of them. But yeah, that war up north is definitely a factor in the rising prices." He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Mainly because of my employer, King Silas Mometasone."
Ebony's eyes widened in realization. "So, he's raising prices to fund the war effort?"
"Exactly," Overton confirmed. "He needs all the coins he can get. He even summoned us, these merry men, to protect his precious capital." He gestured towards his men, who stood at attention behind him. "We're here to take care of any... unwanted guests, so to speak."
Ebony's gaze swept over the mercenaries,their armor the same color palette as Overton's gleaming in the sunlight. They were a formidable force, their disciplined presence a stark contrast to Overton's relaxed demeanor.
"And what about the monks?" Ebony asked, his voice laced with concern. "Are they also being recruited for the war effort?"
Overton shrugged, feigning indifference. "I believe so. Though, if I'm being honest, I'm not entirely convinced those monks are anything more than glorified chanting enthusiasts.”
He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Perhaps they're better suited to brewing tea than battling barbarians."
Ebony's eyes narrowed playfully. "Don't underestimate them, Overton," he warned, his voice laced with a hint of pride. "They may be monks, but they're also formidable warriors.
Ebony chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "Don't underestimate them, swordsman. They will beat you so bad they'll you would be bleeding Crimson through your urine until you're 40. They've protected Iomud from bandits and other threats for years.”
Overton's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "Oh, is that so?" he challenged, his tone laced with playful arrogance. "Perhaps I should pay them a visit sometime. See what they're made of."
Ebony grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I wouldn't recommend it," he cautioned, his voice laced with playful warning. "They have a way of humbling those who enter their sanctuary.
Overton's smile widened, a glint of challenge sparking in his eyes. "Even more reason to visit, then," he declared, his voice laced with playful arrogance. "I always enjoy a good challenge, especially when it involves putting those who underestimate me in their place." He paused, his expression softening slightly. "But fear not, bard. I'll be a respectful guest if I ever decide to visit this... place you speak of."
Ebony chuckled, shaking his head. "You're incorrigible, Overton."
"And you're quite the character, Ebony Gundo," Overton retorted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "A bard with a knack for combat and a sharp wit. You're a rare breed indeed."
Ebony bowed theatrically, playing along with their playful banter. "Why, thank you, Master Overton. Your praise is a ballad to my ears.
Overton chuckled, the sound a low rumble that seemed to echo through the surrounding trees. "Enough with the theatrics, bard. We both have places to be." He paused, his expression turning serious. "But before you go, Ebony, let me offer you some advice."
Ebony leaned forward, intrigued. "I'm all ears, blade master."
Overton's expression turned serious. "Be careful in Dimito," he cautioned. "Things aren't always as they seem. I don't know how many years you've been away, but whatever color your house was is a different shade now.
I can tell you those residents have become a bit...." He paused, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Some might even say they're a pack of dirty dogs, if you catch my drift."
Ebony nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I appreciate the warning, Overton. And I can confirm your concerns. I lived with those 'dirty dogs' for quite some time, so I know what to expect. But I appreciate the heads up nonetheless. It seems not much has changed." "Good," Overton said, a hint of concern in his voice.
The mercenaries, their horses snorting and stamping, gathered around the fallen bandits. Groans and whimpers filled the air as the injured men writhed in pain. Some had broken bones, others were unconscious, their fates uncertain.
The mercenaries dismounted, their swords drawn. They approached the bandit leader, the man in the straw hat, who cowered on the ground, fear etched on his face. With a swift, merciless thrust, they pierced his chest, ending his life.
Overton and Ebony watched the scene unfold, the sounds of suffering echoing through the clearing.
Ebony, unaccustomed to such brutality, felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He had never witnessed death so closely, never seen the consequences of violence so vividly.
Overton, noticing Ebony's pale face, chuckled. "First time?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Ebony, still shaken, nodded silently.
"Don't worry," Overton said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it."
Overton chuckled, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Come on, bard, you're an adventurer, aren't you? This should be expected."
Ebony, though still a bit shaken, managed a weak smile. "Of course, it comes with the territory. I'm not ignorant to it. It's just... actually seeing it is still a bit jarring."
Overton grinned. "Alright, musician. Just giving you a hard time." He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "But in all seriousness, be careful out there. Not everyone is as forgiving as me."
With a final nod of farewell, Ebony turned his horse and set off towards Dimito, the imposing gates of the capital looming in the distance.
Overton watched him go, a mocking smile playing on his lips. He took another swig from his purple flask. "Have fun getting into the capital, bard," he called out.
"Don't worry, swordsman," Ebony replied, his voice filled with confidence. "I can afford it."
Overton chuckled and muttered under his breath, "Asshole." He turned towards the woman who had pretended to be a beggar, her cries for mercy filling the air.
He shook his head, disgust twisting his features. "You bandits really are stupid creatures, aren't you?"
The woman, tears streaming down her face, looked up at Overton, his sword glinting menacingly in the sunlight. "No, please!" she begged.
Overton ignored her pleas, his blade plunging into her heart. "Sorry," he said coldly, "but your bounty's worth a lot. I'm just doing my job."
Ebony continued his journey towards Dimito, the imposing city gates growing larger with each mile. But despite the excitement of returning home, a nagging worry gnawed at him. It was the issue of money, of pearl coins, that had always been a thorn in his side.
He remembered the struggles of his early days in Iomud, scraping together enough coins for food and shelter. Back then, a decent meal cost a mere pittance, but prices had been steadily rising over the years.
Now, with the entry fee to Dimito a staggering 800 pearls, Ebony couldn't help but worry about the cost of basic necessities within the city walls.
"If it costs that much just to get in," he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed with concern, "how much will I need for food, lodging, and other expenses?"
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.