“Yep, here we are. The city of Rotheburg. Welcome to your first experience in being surrounded with unfriendly people and hoping that they don’t strip you of everything you hold dear before you come out the other side.” Enchoron said with a cheerful tune to his voice. “I am exaggerating, of course. It is not that bad. It is just that the look on your face says pretty much what I just said about the city. That is the view that some do have, but you are far more open than people with that view.”
Two stout men with leathery, dark skin were standing at the top of the large ramp that led from the road up to the walls.
As Max approached the city, a sense of awe mingled with an undercurrent of unease. This city, sprawling and enigmatic before him, bore little resemblance to the quaint sketches of urban life he'd seen in the well-thumbed pages of books back in his village. Those illustrations depicted cities as fortresses of civilization, their mighty walls pierced by grand gates that welcomed travelers from afar. Yet, what lay before Max was a departure from that familiar imagery, a deviation that piqued his curiosity while stirring a sense of foreboding within him.
From where he stood, he could discern no welcoming entrance, no grand doorway carved into the city's imposing walls to greet visitors. This absence was the first clue that he was about to enter no ordinary city. His gaze, hungry for understanding, swept along the length of the wall, searching for any sign of ingress. It was then that he noticed, some distance away, what appeared to be remnants of an old road, its course leading toward a peculiar gate. Unlike the sturdy, welcoming portals he'd imagined, this gate seemed to have been forsaken, surrendered to neglect and decay. Barricades and debris cluttered what once might have been a thoroughfare, suggesting a city that had turned its back on the world outside its walls.
But it was the fog that captured Max's attention most of all—a thick, swirling mist that seemed to breathe life into the scene of desolation. It oozed from between the gaps in the barricades and debris, a living entity that blanketed the area with an eerie, almost palpable presence. This fog did not merely obscure; it seemed to consume, swallowing the ground it touched and creeping with insidious intent. It extended its ghostly tendrils up the full height of the walls, shrouding the city in a veil of mystery and menace. The sight of it sent a shiver down Max's spine, a visceral reaction to something so out of place, so unnaturally pervasive.
Yet, there was more to the city's strange design that caught his eye—a massive ramp that spiraled upwards from the ground, reaching for the heavens. This architectural marvel stretched up to the tops of the tallest towers, a bold defiance of traditional city layouts that fascinated Max. It suggested a city that reached not out but up, aspiring perhaps to touch the sky itself. This ramp, in its ambition and scale, stood in stark contrast to the decay at the city's entrance, a juxtaposition that left Max with more questions than answers.
As Max stood at the threshold of this strange city, enveloped in the thick mist that seemed to whisper warnings of the unknown, he realized that he was about to step into a world unlike any he had ever known or imagined. The fog, with its eerie, creeping presence, the abandoned gate choked with debris, and the monumental ramp soaring into the mists—all of it spoke of a city that harbored secrets, dangers, and perhaps wonders beyond his wildest dreams.
Max got a feeling of hope rushing into him. “I think this must indeed be the place that Phaedra spoke of.”
Enchoron stopped walking up the ramp, causing his cart alongside him to come to a halt as well, and turned to look at Max. “Did you say Phaedra?”
“Yes”
“Did you also run into Pater then?”
Max hesitated for a moment, but decided there was no more harm in saying that he knew Pater if he already said that he knew Phaedra. “Yes”
“I am surprised that I found you in the middle of that battle all alone then. It is not like them to allow their mark to go freely.”
“You make it sound as though they work together.” Max was confused by this.
Enchoron nodded, “come on now, no reason to block the ramp and stand outside of the city here. They did work together and they do. Are you saying that you met them separately?”
Max was truly flabbergasted. “Well, I am fairly sure that Phaedra killed him. She muttered quite a bit about getting revenge for someone she lost. Well, I guess I do know more about something going on than someone. That’s nice.”
The young man’s eyebrow raised as he looked at the hamlet born man, “That is quite an interesting revelation. If you have a friendship with her, do not worry. It is not that I am at ends with her. We just do not work for exactly the same cause or people. Similar enough though.”
Max stepped up to equal height on the ramp and walked alongside the robed man. “Good, I do want to seek her out. She said it would not be hard to find her.”
“Surely, if this is where she waits, she will find you before long.” He seemed to be keeping a more alert eye on his surroundings after that.
Once they got to the top of the ramp, Max worked to catch his breath. It was not from the exertion of the short climb, it was from the sight that faced him now as he arrived in the city proper. The ground was impossible to see. The fog was so thick that it made any attempt to find any forms on the ground impossible. The spires of stone that he witnessed from the distant road now stood high above his head. They were commanding in presence, and through the windows on these towers and on some of the roofs, he did spot citizens moving about, doing their duties and work. The sound of people moving about and conversing filled the air. It was as if the design of this place increased all the volumes of the words. They were impossible to understand and chaotic, echoing all about. He became dizzy with vertigo from being overwhelmed by this myriad of inputs.
He was brought out of his stupor by the feeling of soft hands grabbing onto his arms. The rough material of the robe covering the arm brought his attention back down to ground level. “It will be alright. Just stand and take a minute to take it in. Here,” he pulled the stupefied traveler aside and sat him on a stone bench.
Benches just like this one lined the stone walkway that headed from the outer wall into the city. At no place along the walk way were there any stares that headed down into the fog. It was almost like this whole place was built to stand up above the strange darkness that lay only within the city walls. It raised many questions in Max’s head. First, he needed to get acclimated and then the questioning could begin. Enchoron sat down by his side and looked around to absorb the city as well.
“I have also not been here for long in the past. In fact, the only brief time I spent here was right before I set out to find you. Yes, if you had not figured it out just yet, I fought in that battle only to gain the opportunity to encounter you. You’ve seen that crystal I peer into. It gave me some focus as to an idea of where I might find you. Then when I came down the countryside and there were no free peoples still around the land not engaged in conflict, I grew certain to your whereabouts.”
It was comforting to Max that the man was so straight forward. If he was hiding anything, he covered up that fact by filling the air with so many words that there was never a moment to ask questions or wonder. The exercise was beneficial anyway; it gave him the chance to learn quite a bit. “I don’t understand why people are spending so much effort on me. I know that Phaedra explained to me why people have the interest, I just wish I really knew behind all of that the true reason and purpose.
“Self-determination is better anyway. I would not worry about it so much. Just look at all of this as the opportunity for you to explore the world beyond that you only heard of in tales before.” He sat there in silence when Max did not respond. He waited patiently until finally Max stood back up, looking ready to proceed into the previously unknown.
They walked the length of the stone walkway, it was really more of a bridge over fog instead of water. Still, a bridge of this size was another new experience for Max. There was an ever so slight sway to it, even through the thickness, almost like it was sitting on something less than solid. Once they crossed the gap between the wall and the first of the towers, this walkway opened up to an expansive central street. There were cul-de-sacs and outlooks that extended out beyond the towers. There were buildings built of the same stone that sat upon wider parts of the stone walk way. There were even some wooden buildings that looked more temporary than anything.
When the walkway came up to and passed each tower, there were offshoots that usually made their way up to heavy wooden doors. Sometimes there were iron gates and wooden doors and still other times, just iron gates. There were quaint signs hanging above the doors of each tower. Some of them did have some form of writing on them, probably describing their purpose, but they were written in a language Max did not understand. The pictures and coat of arms that dominated most signs were helpful in determining the purpose, focus, or simple use of some of the towers.
Max and Enchoron finally settled in to a tavern and found some beds. Enchoron took care of the costs, which was fortunate for Max, who didn’t really feel like working off the expenses or sleeping in the streets. They settled in for lunch at the tavern, it was not as crowded as Max expected. In fact, compared to all the noise that he heard when they entered the city walls, there had not been as many people as he would have expected at all.
One nearby local chewed his food loudly and stared at Enchoron. After long moments of intense staring, something twinkled in his eye as he must have realized Max and Enchoron did not belong in Rotheburg. The man’s clipped, heavy drunken accent called out, “I bet your wizardly friend here hasn’t told ye about this city and its curse. You better watch out! Fallin’ into the fog just might be the end of you.” Max looked a little nervous and leaned away from the man slightly. The man, probably a smith from the smudges on his face, leaned back to his porridge and laughed.
His friend put his elbows up on the table after grabbing the bread that came with the porridge and taking a huge bite. After chewing, “do not listen to that foolishness. The fog is something of a curse, it just requires caution. There is no need for fear. Remember the difference of magic to knowledge. Let me explain if you would.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Enchoron’s words did have a way of making things seem to be not as serious as they really were. Max continued to eat, but he did make a mumbling sound of acknowledgement.
“The fog is actually a veil of sorts. Before the last age of man began, a curse of sorts was levied against this place. It is my belief that some ancient source of knowledge was used to create a bomb of sorts. That bomb was used on this place. The walls were strong enough to contain the effects of that bomb. Now, this city and the conflicted Plane of War have fused. Traveling into the fog does not mean death. It does mean that you will be transported to that far away fragment that once was part of the Old World. It is the closest of the fragments to this place that we know of as the Old World.” He moved his hands around animating the story and the theory. Some of the other tavern residents even turned their heads in such a way to listen.
“Why is it called the Plane of War?” Someone else chimed in.
Enchoron stood up from his chair, forgetting about the remainder of the food that was not finished. “Well. You see, it is a place of intersection. It is where many of the elements and beings from many of the fragments all collide. It is not a hospitable place except for the bravest and hardiest of peoples. Again, it does not spell someone’s doom, unless they are ignorant.”
A few more people asked some silly questions that even Max could have answered. After a few minutes of this, a new look came over Enchoron, one that he almost regretted involving the entire audience. They finished their meal with little peace.
Max and Enchoron retired to their rooms, even more exhausted after their talkative meal. Max made his way through the incredibly narrow door, located right next to his new mentor’s. The wooden wall between the rooms could barely allow for the rooms to be described as separate. And so, the following morning, when a quiet tap came to Enchoron’s door, Max woke as well.
As Enchoron’s door creaked open, Max, in all his curiosity, took the opportunity to peek outside as well. The woman standing there struck Max as rather strange. The bright green of her hair reminded Max of a moss that grew on the sun side of many of the trees back home. Her functional tunic concealed her ample, yet toned curves. Max assumed she could probably sprint like a predator.
The green haired woman whispered through the slight crack in Enchoron’s door, “The Wizard’s Council of Genma sends its greetings. Ara born of the Harvest, I bare you a private and vital message.”
Enchoron glanced to Max’s door, seeing it cracked open. “Go back to bed Max. I need to go and speak to Ara.”
Max shut the door and put his ear to the door, listening quietly. All he heard were foot steps moving away from the door. He gave up after waiting for another minute, his tired eyes and fatigued legs failing him.
When he finally woke that morning, Ara seemed like a distant memory. He paid it no mind as the rush of energy to explore the city took over. All the trauma and terrible conditions he’d dealt with called for him to sleep for many an hour. He thought about Mathew. He hoped the hamlet was alright. He hoped that Brian got the honorable reception and burial that he deserved. He had conflicting dreams involving a love triangle with Phaedra and Belka.
Max stretched his arms out as he rose from bed, the fatigue of battle and travel on the road melting away after so much time. Even if the stone smelled of mildew and dust hung in the air, there was a certain safety to the strength of stone and the hay on the stone slab of his sleeping quarters felt more even than the rocky side of the road.
He met Enchoron for breakfast, a hearty portion of eggs and assorted meats.
“Shall we begin some teachings? I have many books to call upon from the wizard archive of this city.” Enchoron asked and as Max raised an eyebrow, he elaborated a bit, “It’s not a city known for its wizards, but all major cities, outside of Trolan house a wizard envoy at the least. The one currently assigned here, Rarith, former apprentice of Yulen, former apprentice of Deltin, has quite a love of books. Even for a wizard. He can’t travel without at least two wagons as he couldn’t part with his books for as long as any journey away from Rotheburg might take.”
Max tore off a chewy piece of meat with his teeth, “Though the idea of learning your tricks and histories is appealing. I’ve just got to see this city first. Who knows when I’ll ever have the chance to see a marvel like this again. And all made of stone too. And the mists, just eerie.”
“Very well. I must warn you at descending below this elevation anywhere within the city walls. Do all the exploring you want, but if you choose that sort of exploration, do get me first.”
“Got it.” Max exclaimed as he grabbed a sausage and his coat, jumping to his feet. He sauntered through the door to the street and turned to go deeper into the city.
He explored Rotheburg for a couple of days. He found his way into several derelict towers with easy access to their lower levels. He looked into the mists each time, longingly, thinking about breaking Enchoron’s cardinal suggestion. Instead, Max headed to other parts of the city. He wished that he could see it from above. All the hearty towers and stone path ways criss-crossing the mists would be quite the site. He found his way to the Northern Gate. There, many men, bloody, well-armed, and exhausted, rested by the side of the streets.
He talked to passersby on the streets, telling his own origin stories and hearing those of the locals. Many of the residents lived a paramilitary life from a young age.
One or two of the locals showed a keen interest in Max’s stories. Some even following him to hear the stories repeated again and again with amusement.
Each night, upon waking, he found it so absurd that an experienced woman like Phaedra would ever have more than a professional interest in him.
#
He lay in bed, the sun not yet up. It was a fulfilling night of sleep and his dreams were vivid and numerous. In many of the dreams, he was night himself. He wished that he could reach into his dreams with his empathic abilities to read the emotions of the dream characters. He could hear voices. It sounded like they were arguing. Indeed, one of them was Enchoron, what about the other? He heard a few more heated and clipped phrases going back and forth. The other voice was a sharp feminine one. He reached into his recent dreams and the voice was familiar. The voice most definitely belonged to the beautiful Phaedra.
Max got up and made his way to the door. He put his ear up against the door. The sharp feminine voice of Phaedra perked up his ears, “he needs to be taken far from here. There are too many forces at work here.”
“No. He needs to rest, and again, he needs to make his own choice. You cannot just herd him around like cattle. I know your intentions are true, but he will not learn a thing if you treat him like some ornament that is fragile and needs protection. All that will nurture is an ornament of fragility that needs protection!” The exaggerated voice of Enchoron sounded aggravated.
It was still very early, the two of them must have thought that he would still be sleeping soundly. He did not share his difficulty in sleeping so that was no surprise. He opened the door to his bed chamber and stepped into the hall way.
The arguing stopped. Both of them looked over and saw Max standing in the hall way. Their faces flushed with embarrassment, Phaedra spoke first, “Max, it’s so good to see you again. I was starting to worry that you decided to stay home and not travel out into the world.” She sauntered toward him. It looked as though she was coming to embrace him.
He took a step back, the move surprising her. “What is it that you all talk about? I know it has to do with me. Why can’t you speak to me directly about it instead of literally behind closed doors?”
Enchoron walked over and stood next to Phaedra, facing Max, “sorry that we are not including you. It was not intentional. Phaedra woke me before approaching your chambers and the conversation quickly got out of hand.”
Phaedra nodded in acknowledgement. “We both have good intentions in mind. We also do not have the purpose of manipulation in mind.”
“I take it from the words that I did overhear that you want to protect me Phaedra. Enchoron wants me to learn, but to shelter me from the goings on as much as possible without hindering the learning. Would it be just as difficult for both of you to share with me just what you are protecting me from?” Max insisted adamantly.
Phaedra’s soft voice got even softer as she responded, “The Old World is a complex place. I think that we would love to share with you all of those mysteries. There are still many mysteries to us as well,” she looked to the robed man, “but without the context of everything that we have knowledge and experience of, you might not understand.”
Max appeared frustrated, “is there any person or maybe being or device in this world that can answer for me the truth? Enchoron speaks that destiny is false, but what if that is just an illusion to make people feel that they do have free will. And, Phaedra, what if your side also does not understand the truth, that I do serve some purpose. My home has stayed buried since the last age. Only now has it ever been disturbed by so many outside influences.” He held up a hand to stop interruptions. “Yes, I am sure that there are probably incidents that were not passed down or that were not deemed necessary for our education growing up in the hamlet. It does seem that my home has now been irreversibly changed, first by outside influences and then by my hand through my friends.”
Enchoron soaked in the words before speaking cautiously, “the fact is, whether destiny or prophecy is true or not, there is no way that you will not have a serious impact on the world. You do have a rare talent. One that is sought after by many great lords and seekers of power. Churches as well, have their power brokers that would gladly have someone of your empathic ability to call upon when their faiths or gods or avatars are threatened.”
Max interrupted before Enchoron was finished, “why do I have this power? What has caused this talent to become present in me? Was it passed on by some distant relative? Did I encounter something that formed this power within me? I feel the more I have traveled, the more questions I realize that I have which are not answered.”
Phaedra glanced at Enchoron before she nodded her head in decision and spoke, “There is perhaps one being that might be able to answer this ultimate question that you have. It is a being that is respected by believers in faith, by those that believe prophecy is true, and by those that believe in science. There are Scions from ages past that still live. They have experienced this world in many of its iterations. They have an ability to see beyond the physical. They understand events and energies on a level that even the gods perhaps cannot. They are not distracted by prayers; they have not the need for worshippers to keep their strength.”
Enchoron groaned, “And where do you suppose we go to speak to a Scion? Do you think that they sit on the council of every city? Do you think they live in the wilderness in cottages all on their own? There is not even a known Scion sitting on the wizard’s council. They are unknown to all civilized places.”
Max looked at the robed man, “You said that it was important for me to make my own choices. It was important for me to learn. It was the case that I did not have to follow a specific path. I tell you now. I want to find one of these Scions. I want to know for certain what part I play in this grand device that is the cosmos.” He motioned outward with both hands.
The other two could not tell if there was sarcasm in this expression or seriousness only. In the end, it didn’t really matter. The two of them looked at each other. The conversations that followed got to be confusing again for Max. He calmed down at this point and leaned against the near wall and listened. Phaedra and Enchoron now went about discussing theories and information on where they might be able to find the query. The sun’s rays were just beginning to peek into the hallway.
Finally, after Max obviously zoned out for several minutes, staring at the beams of light, illuminating the dust in the stony hall, Enchoron looked to him, “I feel no progress to be made this morn and I’m still quite tired from studying late. Convene for lunch?”
Phaedra shrugged, “I could use some breakfast. I’m famished after a foray North of Rotheburg.”
Max just yawned in response to the two, but he at least looked back to them, paying some attention.
Though, now with Max having renewed his attention, the two continued a debate with Phaedra insisting private lessons and training and Enchoron insisting a more exploratory approach. After several more minutes of this, the two shrugged together, fatigued from the circular conversation.
Enchoron headed into his room and Max looked to Phaedra, trying to decide whether to go with her for breakfast or finish his rest.
Phaedra made the decision easy for him. Her hand touched his cheek ever so daintily. “I didn’t mean to wake you, in truth, I just wanted to make sure you were both really here. Rest up now and we’ll catch up over lunch. Come early.” She winked at Max.
Before he could respond, she turned and started back toward the common room. Max immediately regretted not reaching out to hug her when he had the chance.