Music softly plays along with the bumbling noise from the rowdy crowd in the tavern. Soft lights flit and spread around while many people clamor at the bar and tables for a drink. Roguish figures and dangerous-looking mercenaries extend through the establishment's main floor.
Zenon blends in seamlessly as he sits in one of the room's corners, listening to various conversations around him. Thankfully, I could sneak out of Castle Drell without any guards noticing. Honestly, though, I think the nobles are just letting me galavant around right now.
Duke Drell has been acting strangely since the ball Zenon attended and overheard Marquis Dotsk and Earl Gandosta. Zenon had noticed over time that the advisors sent to help the Travelers started paying him less attention overall.
However, the nobles have also been asking probing questions to make him speak about his class. An action that sticks out due to him going through the same process weeks ago. They’ve likely figured out I’m hiding my actual status. After asking the others from Earth prodding questions, Zenon can’t help but feel more confident in his choice to escape this entrapment. They don’t seem to have any issues or cautiousness in their own situations.
He is distracted from his thoughts as a nearby conversation between two rough individuals grabs his attention. Focusing his senses on the table as his [Split Consiousness] skill begins to work in overdrive to ignore the other noises throughout the bar, he starts to eavesdrop.
A gruff voice sounds out from a scarred man who is wearing worn leather armor, “Stay away from the border, only trouble to be found over in the Winds. Apparently, the little people have been putting up one hell of a fight.”
Blandly, another voice echoes out from the figure opposite of him. A man dressed in robes and a wide hood. “Hmm, only fools and the wreckless would head that way now that war was sparked again. Seems these pompous nobles forget the follies of their ancestors. The First Strike was a bloody enough day, and I have no intention of being in any of the Kingdoms when it comes again.”
“Hah, it’d be a right kind of justice, that. I’ve been hearing some of the lords and ladies have been toying with collars and contracts.”
The robed figure scoffs audibly, “When haven’t they? I swear the only honorable nobles, if only a few, are in the Independent Cities.”
The armored figure grunts in response, “‘Lotta the magic races out that way.”
Smiling in satisfaction, the robed man replies, “Ah, but a lot of opportunity across Rocira as well. Incursions from the depths of Zankunac, the warring tribes of the Drakei, and plenty of Rips to take advantage of across that continent.”
“Only if you’re willing to travel weeks across the sea. Hoping the Gillies actually keep their bargain to maintain shipping lanes.”
Zenon can imagine the hooded man rolling his eyes as he sighs, “The Mermen have done a perfectly fine job for decades.”
“A [Kraken] appeared just last week…right by a port city in Rocira!”
“But a [Juvenile Kraken] at most. I think it only got around one ship before they downed the big bastard. Plenty of vessels leaving port too with all the war supplies coming in.”
Letting their voices fade, Zenon focuses on the shifty character that is now sitting across from him at the table. Missing an ear with a nasty scar across an eye, the individual looks at him with expectation.
This must be the contact I’ve arranged to meet with tonight. “I’m looking for passage.” Hoping to keep it short to not give away his identity and not show his nervousness. He keeps a neutral look and attempts to level an even stare at his contact.
Slowly nodding, the stranger flicks his eyes back and forth as though looking for something. Coming to an internal decision, he gets up and signals to Zenon with his head. “Follow me.” I guess he also keeps it short.
Quickly weaving through the crowd and out the door. Zenon’s eyebrows screw up as he makes to follow. Strange.
Pushing past the customers inside, he reaches the door and walks out to a cool, dark evening. Some dangerous figures are leaning up against an alley wall as he appears in the doorway. Zenon looks around to find his contact but notices the group begin to approach with some intent.
He worriedly glances around while filling with concern and prepares to use his [Meld with Shadow] to make an escape. Thankfully, before he was forced to escape, his contact appears around the corner of an alley, waving him down.
The approaching group freezes at the sight of the earless man. Chattering amongst themselves momentarily before quickly turning around to disappear down another alley. That really doesn’t help my nerves…
Feeling slightly helpless, he decides to go through with his initial plan. I’d rather take my chances with criminals than nobles. They’re more my kind of folk anyways.
Zenon approaches the man, still signaling to him, and follows as he walks down the alley. They cut through multiple backstreets and alleys while Zenon has the chance to admire the slums of what the locals call the Waters.
The Waters is slang for the Kingdom of Water and their Capital, Becria. While confusing, it’s a good way to distinguish who is a foreigner to their city.
Initially, upon arriving, his first impression was that it was a magnificent port city. Settled on top of, and down into, a ravine. The city is massive on a downhill slope. Humungous impenetrable walls line the upper part of the city, while the cliff walls offer natural protections down toward the port and coast.
The port is composed of multiple 5km docks lined along the exposed coast before morphing into cliffs for protection.
Due to the city's layout, the upper levels are filled with a military complex and wealthy denizens. However, as you travel towards the lower levels in the port’s direction, it becomes dirty and left for slums.
It is ironic, though; the port and the main road through the city's center are well-kempt and routinely patrolled while being free of debris for wagons and carriages. Shops and taverns line parts to draw in crowds of travelers. A beautiful facade before delving into a side alley, only to realize that behind a beautiful restaurant is dilapidated housing that can surprisingly stand upright.
As Zenon creeps behind his contact, he realizes the full extent of differences between the upper and lower levels. The further up you go, the more opulent and magnificent the buildings become. Lining the Capital city's wall at the top of the ravine is the military compound providing the standing army and the city's guard. Training yards and fortified buildings spread throughout. Spent quite a bit of time there at the beginning of this duplicitous guest housing situation.
The lower levels have dingy ‘buildings’, if you can even call them that. Most are covered in mildew, with lanterns hanging off the front due to the near-constant shade. A criminals playground.
Following the man through dark alleys, they eventually reach an inconspicuous door down just another ordinary street.
The unnamed earless man waits for Zenon to catch up before giving the door a coded knock. A barely perceptible slot slings open with a ‘clang,’ and a pair of dark eyes peer out. Without words, the contact nods before the slot closes again with an audible noise.
The sounds of locks being undone ring out through the darkness, and the door swings open. The earless man walks in without hesitation, and Zenon follows after a slight pause. Noticing an intimidating 4-armed man standing to the side of the doorway. The mountain of muscle stares at Zenon while he passes with undisguised hostility.
He gives the juggernaut a passing glance with some nerves before going deeper into the building after the earless man. Entering a hallway lined with doors, Zenon peaks into a few open ones while walking.
A disconcerting feeling arises as he realizes the building must connect with the ones beside it to create a headquarters of sorts. Some of the rooms were lined with racks of weapons, while others held bunks, and finally, the closed rooms had a perceptible dangerous aura radiating out from them.
They turn around a corner and start heading down another hallway leading to a set of stairs. Noticing something else strange, does this go underground?
Zenon pats his waist and feels slightly comforted by the daggers sheathed there. Honestly, these might not even help if it really comes down to it. With that many armaments and bunks, it’d be one hell of a challenge to escape now. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
Resolve hardens as they go deeper down a wide twisting staircase. The bottom reveals two simple hallways. One with loud, exuberant voices ringing out and the other leading to a fortified door. The earless man turns toward the door without pause, and as Zenon follows, his muscles tense in anticipation.
This time the man only has a simple knock before he pulls the door open with a slight struggle. Stepping aside, he signals for Zenon to walk in and speaks for the second time that night, “The boss’ll meet ya now. Good luck.” Finishing with a quick nod, he stops acknowledging Zenon completely.
Zenon can only think, stopping at the doorway, into the lion's den.
A vast and opulent desk with papers neatly littered around the top is the first sight seen. The painting hanging along one of the walls was the other thing to catch his eye. It was a beautiful scene depicting a strange-looking monk surrounded by mist. Golden skin, purple eyes, and only slits for a nose. The monk looks serene while maintaining a one-legged pose, with his arms crossed uniquely.
Just a glimpse is all it takes for refreshing and tranquil energy to pump throughout this body. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Whoa, this came from a painting?
Next, he focuses on the figure, which causes a spike of panic to drive through the peaceful feeling. Pale grey eyes meet him with a plain and sharp face to frame them. He’s wearing an open black robe and a formal shirt beneath, reminiscent of a suit.
Leveling a severe stare at Zenon, “I overheard you were asking questions in curious places.” He breaks off in a smooth voice and leans back to reveal a wide smile. “What could I possibly do for one as prestigious as yourself, I wonder?” A slightly mocking smile replaces the first as he looks at Zenon expectantly.
Okay, so he knows. Of course, he knows. It’s not like the Duke has been working too hard to contain our identities. Don’t panic; this is still within expectation.
Realizing the man probably already knew the questions he was asking. Zenon barrels ahead to the main issue, “I need passage to help get away from a noble friend of mine. I’ve heard there was someone who could operate without reprisal.” It can’t hurt to add a little flattery.
Chuckling in response, Zenon notices the grey eyes stayed trained on him the entire time in an unnerving way. “Ah, it’s possible I could be of help, but these things take time and support. Financially, of course.”
Simply nodding, Zenon reaches towards the pouch at his waist and chucks it across the room to land on the desk. Close enough to be within reach, but hopefully not too close to being disrespectful. Thank [Lesser Dexterity] and [Lesser Agility] for that. “Hopefully, that will cover any expenses needed for the endeavor.”
Without reaching for the bag, he stares at Zenon, “Likely.”
Oh, shit. Zenon glances around, and his eyes catch the painting again. That refreshing and calm feeling flows through him, providing enough confidence to level an equally fierce stare back toward the nameless man. “We both know who I am, so I won’t mince my words anymore. What must I do to get out from under Drell’s thumb?”
With a wince, the man loses his smile and leans forward while an arm reaches under the desk. A pop sounds out in the air around the both of them. Rubbing at his earlobe and locking eyes with him, Zenon has a sense of confusion wash over him. However, he tries to maintain an appearance of strength and straightens his back.
When the man speaks, it is with a sense of professionalism that was not seen prior. “I’ll be as upfront with you in respect to your true class.” Holding up a hand to stall any argument. “Yes, I know your true class of [Spymaster]. You might be able to hide it from the nobles, but you’re among kin here.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Freeing you from the Duke of the Depths is quite an undertaking. Gathering and placing the needed personnel to safely secure you will take time. For now, as a [Spymaster], you could be useful to us in the meantime.” Losing all pretense, a mischievous smirk appears, “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in some work?”
Shocked by this change; obviously, this could all be crap, and they have no intention of helping, but I’m not sure if I really have any other choice at this point. Reaffirming his resolve, “Depends on the task, and I won’t do it for free. As you’ve already said, the payment earlier should be enough.” Might as well go for broke. “How can I be of service?” Give him a slight nod to show a bit of respect, and wait for a response. Zenon cannot help but reminisce about his past with a feeling of deja vu.
The nameless man only offers another smirk in response and continues unimpeded. “Next time, you can find a way to sneak out, then go to another tavern, and we will find you. As of now, you’ll need to leave so you do not draw unwanted attention down upon us.” Settling back into the chair, he dismisses Zenon by examining one of the many papers strewn across the desk.
Hesitating for only a moment before turning around to walk out. I guess that’s it, then. As he approaches the door, it begins to open again. When did they close it?
A little dubious for not noticing his only exit closing behind him, Zenon meets the one-eared man at the door and waits while he closes it again.
Waiting for a moment for them to start walking, he decides to give something a try. “It appears I’ll be working with you for the foreseeable future. Any chance I could catch your name?”
Zenon eyes the man and sees him tense at his first words, “Know you’ll be working from a distance and not directly with us. Just call me Bell. Everyone else does around here.”
Sensing the end of the conversation, they walk in silence before reaching the floor with all the rooms. I did not notice before, but most of these bunks and rooms are empty. “Feels a little spacious in here with the empty rooms.”
“Be careful asking questions.”
Okay, so I’d say that’s a good ol’ shut the hell up. They walk all the way back to the original tavern they met in, and without words, Bell just waves and leaves down another alley.
Zenon shakes his head and uses [Blend to Shadow] where he stands. All this shade rocks for my ability, but what the hell did I just get into? Taking advantage of his increased movement speed, Zenon takes off in stealth to sneak back into Castle Drell.
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Zenon successfully sneaks back into his room without any issues from the guards. Time to play it cool for a few days; I’ll go back out after that. Readying himself to settle into the normal routine until his next meeting with a contact from that…group. He lets himself fall asleep, ready for the actions to come.
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“Hmm? He did what?” The Duke sharply looks up at the nervous message from one of his guards.
In a panic, the guard in question flicks his eyes back and forth in their sockets. Desperately looking toward his compatriots but seeing neither willing to step forward with any support. The guard swallows audibly, “He…uh…escaped the Castle under watch, as ordered. But he proved too difficult to follow. Whatever his real class is, it must grant aid to both stealth and speed.”
“So you let him get away from you.” Duke Drell’s knuckles begin to whiten around the armrests, and he forces out in a strained voice, “How long have you worked at my castle, my friend?” A sickly sweet smile spreads across his face like the Cheshire cat.
Unease creeps into the guard but still is compelled to reply. “J-just about a couple of months.”
“Do you understand the position you find yourself in? I have no need for inadequacy in my castle.” With a sigh, the Duke looks at a figure by the door with a slight nod and then glances at the two guards by the original speaker. “Take the waste out of here. Oh, and let Kean know he is now responsible for our wayward Traveler.” Adding as an afterthought, “That right bastard will either follow Zenon or make the kid regret ever escaping in the first place.”
The unnamed figure by the door grabs the worried guard and drags him out, with the other two trailing behind. The Duke slowly lifts his head and says to the empty room. “Gonna show yourself or draw this out?”
In response, silence rings out through the space, and an annoyed look appears. “Doing it like this, eh?” Sitting back, he huffs, “Fine,...3…2…-”
“Fine! I’m here! Sheesh, holster that aura, big guy.”
A short and dark-skinned woman appears out of nowhere to stand just behind the Duke. Wearing a goofy grin as her close proximity makes Drell tense. She pats him on the shoulder while rounding the desk and unceremoniously plops down on a chair. “So, what’s this about sending the Hound to watch the Traveler?”
Grunting with a resigned look at the lack of etiquette, “That Traveler has been dealing with Enigma; you know what that means, Grini.”
Grini freezes at the mention of that organization. “Careful, Drell.” Taking a moment to consider her following words. “You know as well as I do how dangerous that group can be when provoked.”
“Hmm, we can bear the full weight of the Four Kingdoms against them.”
“You know my affiliation, so I won’t bother to mention them. However, I’ll leave it at this…any action taken will be returned in kind. Be careful.”
Glancing up sharply, Duke Drell waves off the worry. “You wouldn’t happen to be interested in contract work, would you?”
Guffawing, “Hah! Don’t even try to entangle me into this web of crap you’re weaving. I’ll be staying well away to enjoy the entertainment.” Grini stands up with a twirl and a bow before vanishing where she stands.
The Duke stares at the location his old friend disappeared. “Figures.”
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Jay walks out of the room in which he has been confined for the past few days. Thankfully, he was able to find something that fits him well. Nothing flashy or fancy, but a simple tunic and slacks to match in muted colors.
Seeing the hallway for the first time brings another sense of wonder. The twirling pattern prominent in his room changes into a flowing design that runs along the walls and leads you toward the exit.
“Hoh, friend Jay! We’re down this way.” Hearing Huebald’s voice, he sees the man standing next to Marigold.
As he approaches, Marigold shrugs, “We should be good to take off. Master Bavo is helping another patient right now, so he won’t be able to see us off.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Without more than a nod toward each of them, Marigold begins to march off while Huebald and Jay catch up. Not knowing where they are going, Jay speaks out in a questioning tone, “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
Huebald merely glances at Marigold to let her take the lead on her special day. Noticing her cue, a bright smile forms as she responds with the utmost excitement. “My celebration, of course! Oh, and also a tour around the village.” She continues to chatter while walking through the halls. “I’ve lived here my whole life, but I’m not sure why merchants love coming here so much.”
Finally reaching the door to go outside, Jay can see why the village was so popular amongst visitors. With a warm and welcoming sun bearing down upon him, Jay can only think of how beautiful and quaint the village seems.
A fine, clean road runs between the well-designed and artistic buildings on either side. Well-dressed and jubilant Halflings walk to and fro with a bustle seen in busier cities. Everyone looks like their right in the middle of some important task. Jay notices that even the conversations between two apparent friends seem short and to the point, with little room for small talk.
A thumping of feet from a distance draws Jay out of his state of bliss. Gasps are heard from along the street as Jay looks towards this new disturbance.
[Giant Plains Mice] are barreling down the road in their direction. He feels a strange familiarity while looking upon these beasts and riders. Wait, these look like the mice from that first day…the ones to arrive when that monster was on top of me.
The group of riders comes in quick to stop before the trio, and a man hops off his mount. Huebald notices the dismounted Halfling and calls out, “Captain Gram! What a sight for sore eyes. How are you doing this fine day?”
The man, Gram, widely smiles, “The sun is shining, and the Plains are quiet. My riders and I could not ask for much more.” He fixes his gaze upon Jay. “Honestly, we only stopped because I saw our friend here. Glad to see you up and moving, friend Jay.”
Huebald jumps in to add, for Jay’s sake, “Gram was one of those directly responsible for taking down that [Carnage Lion] to save you.”
Surprised, Jay reconsiders the Captain. Shaggy brown hair rests atop his head while bright green eyes meet Jay’s. With a hand over his chest, Jay gives him a deep bow out of respect, “Then I have one more person to thank for my life. I won’t forget what you did for me.”
“No need for that, friend.” Gram signals at his team members, who are mounted and waiting. “We all simply did our duty to what was right that day. But I’m sure I speak for all of them when I saw we still appreciate your gratitude.”
“Even so. While I know I’m not in any great position to help. If there is anything I can do to repay you in the future, then you only need to say the word.”
Gram simply nods in his direction before hopping back on top of his mount. “We appreciate the sentiment. But! We really must be going on our way. We’re off to see Hartmut now.” With a goodbye and a particular nod in Marigold’s direction, the group stampedes off at the same rate as before. Oh? I remember I overheard her and Bavo discussing a crush that Marigold has. Jay cannot help but smile slightly at the young Marigold’s infatuation.
Huebald speaks up to have us begin moving again, “Well, while Marigold is daydreaming, we can go ahead and start the tour. She’ll snap out of it soon anyways.”
They both set off down the street only to hear an exclamation behind them once Marigold realizes she was left behind. Not paying her any mind, Huebald says, “To dive right in, the border village we are in is called Windmond.”
“Border village?”
“Yes, as the name suggests, it’s one of our settlements along Agra’s border. However, many border villages were recently created due to the War.” As Huebald explains, he is smiling and nodding at those we pass. Marigold finally catches up while breathing heavily and giving them both a playful glare that quickly turns back into her usual excited energy.
For once, Marigold stays out of the conversation because various people walk up to congratulate her and chat for a moment. Thankfully Huebald came, or this wouldn’t be much of a tour and more a parade.
She still manages to keep pace with the due, but seeing her distracted. Huebald cuts in again. “Hartmut is actually the founder of Windmond. After he left the military, the Council granted him this land with a team of our own trained stone mages.”
“Wait, I’ve heard others reference the War, but you make it sound like it was years ago.”
“Hm, yes and no. The Kingdoms declared war on Agra a couple of decades ago, but it was quickly put to a close.” A dark look flits across his face while speaking of the War. Seems there’s a story there. “Recently, they’ve declared war again, though many will argue the first War had never ended. Kingdom infiltrators have attempted to move into Agra for years.”
“Who are the Kingdoms?”
“A coalition of four Human Kingdoms formed by a group of refugees saved by a long-dead Traveler. Initially, they were a single and powerful nation, but corruption and greed overtook them after the Traveler continued his travels. Eventually, fracturing into the four factions created by the man. The Kingdoms of Fire, Earth, Air, and Water. They each possess specialized magic with each element left to them by the Traveler.”
They continue to walk silently for a while as Jay absorbs all the new information and simply enjoys the walk outside. Voices start to rise with the clang of metal, and eventually, they reach a storefront. “This would be our village's blacksmith. Come, follow me.”
“Huebald walks inside with Marigold trailing behind him. However, before Jay follows, he cannot help but appreciate the building itself. A beautifully engraved pattern with bold lines that intersect to form an anvil is depicted on the front wall. On top of the anvil is a unique flame that spreads upward and blends into the roof.
Before he can continue to gaze at the design, Marigold’s head peaks out the door. “You coming?”
Jay takes one last look at the engraving and follows her inside. The sound of metal being hammered rings out once he walks through, and he sees Huebald at a counter with a display of weapons and armor behind it.
Huebald appears to be speaking to a bulky…wait, is that a dwarf? As they approach, both of them turn toward Jay and Marigold.
“Finally decide to come inside?” Huebald asks with a mirthful grin.
“I’ll admit I was a little enraptured by the design on the front, but thankfully Marigold came out to draw me from my thoughts.” Jay jokes.
The dwarf speaking with Huebald grunts with a gruff voice, “Aye, the stone mages the Halflings bring in do good work. I’ve been hearing you’re the Traveler they hauled in?”
In response, Huebald splutters while glancing around the room. “That is supposed to be confidential, so let’s try not to speak on it too much.”
The dwarf simply gives him a look that quiets Huebald. “The world is already moving with the signs, and he appeared out of nowhere only for Hartmut to personally see to him.” Shrugging his burly shoulders, “Not too hard to see if you’re willing to look.”
Huebald softly curses to himself and gives Jay an apologetic look, “Not important as of right now. This is the path we find ourselves on. Anyways, I’d like to apologize then, Jay. It appears we could not keep your secret as long as we’d hoped. Shouldn’t be an issue for the immediate future, though.”
I didn’t even know they were attempting to keep it a secret. From the way it was described to me by Hartmut, I figured the entire world already knew I was here, and that’s where his request for me to leave came from.
“This might be my lack of understanding about Eshor, but I don’t blame you all. There must’ve been another 30 or so people taken too, so I didn’t even think it’d be a secret.” Jay shrugs his shoulders at that without care.
Huebald, Marigold, and the dwarf all turn to stare at Jay once he says that. A particularly intense stare from Huebald strikes Jay, and he slowly says, “You know how many Travelers have been brought to Eshor?”
Slightly confused, Jay replies, “Uhm, yeah…I mean, not an exact number, but if everyone around me was brought here. Then it would be at least 30, maybe more?”
The dwarf and Huebald share a worried look, resulting in Jay speaking up. “What’s going on? What’s with that look?”
Huebald takes a deep breath to settle his nerves, “We…” He stops to consider his words. “There has never been a case of more than 10 Travelers being brought to Eshor. The more that come, the more Rips occur, and the more beasts and demons arrive with them.
“The year 10 Travelers arrives is only remembered through historical accounts and was recorded as the first occasion of their arrival. All say the same thing. This was the start of the First Breaks across Eshor. Bringing terrible hordes of aggressive creatures or a few horrendously powerful ones.”
“What’s the difference between the Breaks and Rips?” Jay now reciprocates the worried look on their faces.
“Rips are minor tears in our world that release low to medium threats. They can occur at any point, but they can be seen to increase in quantity during the Traveler's arrival to Eshor. Breaks though… A break is in the same realm as a rip in our world, but much, much worse.
“It is theorized that ever since the 10 Travelers arrived, it has weakened some boundaries protecting Eshor. Resulting in the First Break. After that, and seemingly without a pattern, Breaks occurred much more frequently with the arrival of various Travelers. Sometimes it would only take 1 arriving, and at other times it would be over 5.” Huebald turns to the dwarf. “However, our friend, Rakroir Chainbrand, might be able to provide a bit more clarification on that front.”
Oh? I would’ve thought Huebald had more knowledge with how he expounded on the issue. Keeping his confusion to himself, Jay also sees Marigold look over with interest. The dwarf, Rakroir, gives Huebald an annoyed glare but answers anyways. “Mmm, you’re right that I’m probably the best person to explain this. The Spirit Dwarves have been around for a long time. Longer than most of the other races across Eshor. I, myself, have lived through a couple eras, non-consecutively, of course.”
Non-consecutively? Multiple Eras? Spirit Dwarves? It feels that for every question answered, then two more arise. Not the time to get more answers, though.
Rakroir continues without paying Jay any attention, “Now, I wasn’t there for the First Break. My first life didn’t begin until civilization started to pick up the pieces in the aftermath. But I was there for the Second.” Grief overcomes his features. “At the time, I lived in the dwarf-home Thomdihr. Our seers saw the signs of the Traveler’s arrival, and we began preparations for Rips to occur. But…none of us were ready for another Break. Before we had a chance to fully prepare, a massive tear appeared deep in our mines. Only a few of us were able to escape that catastrophe…”
He fixes Jay with a hardened look, “Normal Rips are already difficult to deal with, but during a Break, the tears that appear are much worse. Unexpected, sudden, and overwhelming are only a few words that can describe them, and they are nigh impossible to defeat without a tremendous amount of help.”
Silence rings out in the room while only a hammer slamming against metal can be heard. One more reason why I need to be able to defend myself. A sudden break, in reality, to spew out monsters anytime or anywhere sounds terrifying in every sense of the word.
Not caring for any of their thoughts, Rakroir continues while giving Huebald a look, “With those dark thoughts done. What’s brought ya here?”
Huebald responds only after shaking himself out of his thoughts, “Ah, giving Jay a tour of Windmond. You were actually our first stop.” With that said, he has the decency to look embarrassed that the first stop went in the direction it did.
Rakroir looks at him for a moment before bursting out with a booming laugh, “Hell of a way to introduce someone to our village.” The others couldn’t help but chuckle alongside him as they try to distract themselves from what they heard.
After chatting for a while longer, Jay held in his questions until the moment they walked out the door. “So…Spirit Dwarves?”
They walk down the street as Huebald responds with a small laugh, “Little confused, eh?”
“What did he mean by living multiple lives or whatever?”
“Not multiple lives, but incarnations. The Spirit Dwarves are brought into this world either by birth or a carefully guarded ritual to create life out of primordial stone. This same ritual can be used to bring a Spirit Dwarves soul that has died back to life.” Huebald leans in to whisper to Jay conspiratorially, “Primordial stone has become much more difficult to find in recent years, so the right to another incarnation is reserved and decided on by their Assembly. Which is a group of some of the oldest dwarves among their race.”
Their group quickly arrives at another storefront, and in a unique contrast to the other buildings, this one has no designs on the building. Noting the plain look, Jay follows the two inside. Upon entering, a wonderful fragrance hits Jay, and he looks around the…bakery?
Shelves and displays are filled with gorgeous baked goods spread around the shop. Talking to a customer behind one of the counters is a portly Halfling woman. A joyful smile and mirthful gleam in her eyes make her stick out below a mound of greying hair.
As the door opens, the woman looks up and exclaims in excitement, “Huebald, you old man! Get those legs moving, and come say hello to old Belba.” Did she just talk in the 3rd person?
She rounds the corner of the counter once we start to approach and gives Huebald a warm hug. After that, Belba directs her attention to Marigold. “And you!” She reaches out to pinch the newly advanced [Healer]’s cheek. “Congratulations on your advancement, young one. Belba will get you a pastry on the house.”
Finally, she acknowledges Jay as Huebald mutters to himself at being called old, and Marigold rubs her now reddened cheek. “That means you must be our friend from beyond the stars.” Dropping into a low bow, Belba quickly straightens to hug Jay tightly. “Belba is sorry you’ve been stolen from your home.”
Sorry? Why… Jay reaches up and feels tears dripping down his face. Am I crying? Wiping at his eyes, Belba pushes him back to only an arm's length away as he says, “I…I’m sorry. I’m a mess. Not sure why I’m even crying.”
Belba has sympathetic eyes as she explains patiently, “Son, you’ve been sequestered from your home without warning or goodbyes. Before being dropped into a life-or-death altercation. You have a right to be emotional, and it is a shame you only realize this now.” She turns and grabs a pastry from a nearby stand. “Here, have this. Comfort food helps in so many ways.”
Glancing at Marigold, Jay sees she is already munching down on a pastry she has picked out. Even Huebald looks at both of them with slight jealousy before giving Jay an encouraging nod to eat the pastry given to him by Belba.
The pastry in hand looks to be some kind of filled danish, and without any more restraint, he takes a bite. Half went in a single mouthful; the other followed without another thought.
The flavor explodes in his mouth as a touch of sweetness accompanies a delicious fruity tart taste. For a moment, the only thing to exist in Jay’s mind is himself and the wonderful flavors of the pastry. All his worries and fears he had buried faded away.
Opening his eyes, “Thank you, Belba. That was much more helpful and delicious than I expected.” He finishes with a warm smile in her direction.
Simply nodding in response, “With that out of the way. What should Belba call you, young one?”
“My name is Jay Palmer, but you can just call me Jay.”
“Well met, friend Jay. Belba will save some jobs for ya when you feel up for it.” She finishes with a wink in his direction before suddenly waving them off and beginning to walk toward another customer. “Now off with ya. You’re holding up business.” Belba smiles to let us know she’s not upset but just busy.
Marigold finishes stuffing her face to ask Huebald, “Where are we off to next? The market? Tailor? To Hartmut?”
Raising a hand to forestall more questions, “We’ll be off to the tailors next, but don’t you have a celebration to get ready for right about now?” Huebald says this with slowly raising eyebrows and a gleam in his eyes.
She freezes at his words and almost flies out of the room with quick goodbyes to Huebald and Jay. They can only stare at the now-open door before glancing at each other with small laughs.
Both of them leave from the still open door and they fall into steep with each other while approaching their new destination. Eventually, Jay asks a question that has been bugging him and only now feels confident to speak of, “So…” Stopping for a moment to consider the framing of his question. “...When it is time for me to leave. What should I do? Where should I go?”
Hartmut’s voice echoes out from beside Jay causing him to jump slightly and see Hartmut now keeping pace with them. “This seems as good a time as any to intrude on your conversation.” He glances at Jay, “First, we won’t just be kicking you to the curb. We’ll let you acclimate as much as we are able. As for where and what you should do…” A thoughtful expression appears on his face, “I’d advise making your way to the Capital of the Kingdom of Water. From there, you’d be able to leave the continent for anywhere, but your best bet would be the City of Clouds. It’s outside the Kingdom's influence, and you should be in relative safety there.”
Huebald whips his head around in surprise at this, “The City of Clouds? Are you insane?”
What’s this? Jay looks at Hartmut with a questioning expression.
“No, not insane. Not only is it one of the free cities in Rocira, but it has no outside nations capable of making a claim due to the city's protectors. The city itself is not dangerous. It’s down in the Dirt that it becomes risky. The city proper is perfectly safe.”
Huebald still looks unconvinced by this, but Jay speaks up first. “Before making a choice. Why recommend this city before any other?” He has to have other reasons to bring this specific city up.
Hartmut smiles at Jay with barely disguised guile. “Good question! I thought this might be the best choice due to your status as a Traveler. Due to the status of being a free city, many adventurers in the Guild call the city home. Should be a good place for you to get used to combat without any scrutiny.”
Even Huebald reluctantly nods at that reasoning. Seems like the City of Clouds is the goal, then. Though, honestly, it’s not like I know of anywhere better.
With that question answered, they continue walking while Hartmut joins their group. In contrast to the crowd's reaction before, his presence seems to add a sense of importance to their journey. Resulting in the population parting to let us through the street.
Jay idly listens as Huebald and Hartmut chat about various items of interest around the village. Nearing the Tailor, Jay notices more of the designs along each building and finds himself enjoying the simple walk through the village. Especially without any other existential crisis being brought up.
Finally reaching the Tailor’s storefront, it results in an uneventful meeting in which the seamstress promises Jay new clothes after a quick measurement. She then pushes them out the door while muttering how she must get right to work. He cannot figure out if she is eager due to him being a Traveler or Hartmut’s presence. So as they leave, Jay asks Harmut as much.
“Hah! Miss Cutton wouldn’t offer me free clothes if I walked into that store missing all of mine.” He continues to laugh at the notion of the seamstress helping him.
Jay looks toward Huebald for a little more explanation. “Miss Cutton and Hartmut have a bit of a history…” He says while giving Jay an indicating glance.
Ahh, if I’m reading this correctly, Hartmut and Ms. Cutton were an item at one time.
“Okay! Okay! Enough about me. We’re-” Suddenly, he freezes, and a strangely serious look flits across his face. Not wasting a single moment, Hartmut turns his head to Huebald. “Get Jay back to Bavo’s and make sure the Master [Healer] is there to watch him. Directly after, meet me on the North side of Windmond.” Not another word is said before vanishing where he stood.
Jay is concerned and asks Huebald, “Uhm, what the hell was that about?” That was way too much of an abrupt change in emotion to be anything but serious.
Huebald does not answer Jay immediately but instead grabs his arm to pull him along to Bavo’s. “I…I’m not sure. Not many things can get that side of Hartmut to come out these days. We need to get you to Bavo’s as soon as possible for now.”
Jay is not able to get a single word in as he is practically dragged back to his room at Bavo’s.
The door snaps shut behind Huebald as he rushes back out. What the hell is going on?
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Huebald approaches Hartmut as the village head is giving rapid orders to those around him. Soldiers and patrol teams are going to and fro, but Hartmut has collected specific individuals around him. Huebald notices some of them to be those who were a part of their squad during the War.
The team waiting for him consists of Gram, Evroul a [Healer], Hartmut, and a [Guardian], Athalia. Once he gets close enough, Huebald calls out. “Hello, everyone. Glad to have you with us.” Gram smiles in return while Evroul and Athalia stare in unrestrained respect. Paying them no more mind, he asks Hartmut, “What are we facing?”
He cannot help but admire Hartmut’s old battle gear that he is currently wearing. Black leather armor made of [Umbral Puma] hide. A green insignia rests on the upper left breastplate, signifying their old squad. Gram’s armor has the same insignia, but the rest has metal spaced throughout for extra protection. Athalia lacks the insignia, but wears full-plate armor.
Huebald’s battle gear is much like his old squad mates. Except now he has a blood-red robe with leather plates spread across, from the same [Umbral Puma] as Hartmut’s armor. The same insignia rests upon his armor too.
Hartmut answers his question, drawing Huebald out of his observations. [Feral Quillboars] from a low-tier Rip. Scouts report a group of 20 with an [Alpha Quillboar] too.
Visibly letting out a sigh of relief, “Thank the Agran. That should be well within our abilities. How close are they?”
“1km out, but they are moving in this direction. So, we must ride out to meet them before they encounter the village.”
“How’d you want to handle this?”
In Athalia and Evroul’s direction, Hartmut indicates, “Athalia will be on the front line. She has the specialized [Barrier Guardian] class, so she should be able to hold her own on the front.
Evroul, here, will be our healer for today. There shouldn’t be any issues but plan for the worst. As you know, Gram will be our support.” At this, Hartmut turns to Evroul and Athalia. “You two haven’t had the chance to work with Huebald and me. He can explain more about his role, but I will take care of the Alpha.”
At his cue, Huebald explains, “Normally, for a low-tier Rip, we would let the lower-level teams take the risk to let themselves grow in power. However, I imagine we are taking care of this ourselves due to the proximity to the village.” He looks at Hartmut for confirmation and after receiving a nod, “I’ll not go into my own exact abilities, but I will take care of the main herd with Gram’s help. We only need you two in case the situation takes a turn.”
Hartmut intrudes again once he finishes, “With that covered, let us head out. We’ll be using the mice to navigate to the herd. They’re past the tallest of the grass, so as we make a final approach, we’ll do it on foot.”
Without fanfare, they head towards the herd, and before long, they clear the tall grass to see the boars moving in the distance.
Beasts of monstrous size that could tower over a Halfling with a height of 2m at the shoulder. Horrendous tusks stick from their mouths that are used to gore their prey, and blood-red eyes complete the image.
A splattering of different colored hides are among the herd; however, one, in particular, stands out among the rest, the [Alpha Quillboar]. A giant even among its own kind. Two times the height of the largest [Feral Quillboar] and with a particularly distinctive midnight-black coat. The Alpha is leading its herd in the same direction the hunting party arrived from.
Pulling to a stop, Hartmut once more addresses the whole group, “Alright, we got lucky. Quillboar are a beast we are used to hunting down. We’ll take care of this as we had planned. Be wary of their projectiles and stay alive.”
With that rousing speech from their leader, the group unceremoniously starts off toward the herd. As they near, Hartmut flips off his mount and disappears. At that signal, the rest dismount to approach on foot. Each of them is confident and experienced in their own roles. They all halt momentarily just out of the herd’s notice and wait for Hartmut to start the attack.
Suddenly, a deep gash appears on the Alpha’s flank while Hartmut shows himself before sprinting off in another direction away from the group. Drawing the Alpha’s attention.
Huebald and Gram see their cue, and they each cast their respective spells. [Field of Death] and [Gravity Field] to restrict the movement of the rest of the herd.
Bloody-looking plants begin to curl up from the ground and grip their limbs with vicious thorns as the herd comes to a crashing halt. The [Gravity Field] is laid down only a moment later, further restricting them as their weight spontaneously increases.
The Alpha continues to boldly charge towards Hartmut with wild abandon, heedless of the danger hanging over its head and herd.
The plants pulse a glowing red and begin to grow as the [Feral Quillboars] blood is absorbed by the flora. Soon enough, the [Field of Death] lives up to its terrifying name as they are consumed one by one and fall to the ground as their vitality is stripped away.
As this occurs, Hartmut appears from the shadows directly next to the oblivious Alpha. Another heavy slash takes off one of the trunk-like forelegs, and the beast crashes into the ground. Creating a tremendous furrow in the dirt meters long.
With a loud baritone squeal that shakes the air, the beast comes to a stop. No preamble or flair follows as Hartmut once more appears and drives a dagger straight into the brain of the Alpha. A second later, he disappears again and stands beside Huebald in a relaxed stance.
They both watch with firm expressions as the rest of the herd is buried underneath the growing bloody plants before all movement stops and the carnage ends.
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In a barren wasteland with no signs of life in all directions except for a few reptiles, bugs, and a stray plant struggling to survive. A group of 5 humans stumble along in a disorganized line, with the only discernible sound being a loud young man tiredly singing a song and playing an acoustic guitar along with the tune.
The guitar stops with a twang as a blonde woman interrupts in an annoyed voice, “How many times can you possibly play the same song and not think it is annoying?” She comes to a halt and throws up her hands while raising her voice. “We’ve already been walking for days without a sign of anything in any direction. We’ve made it this far only because Becca, Lewis, and I chose classes that we all needed to survive in this shitty place.”
The newly inducted [Bard] sheepishly scratches the back of his head, “Yeah, sorry about that. I just kind of saw it there. Didn’t think it was even real, honestly.”
The women’s head rips around to him, but his stomach interrupts them with a grumble. Worldlessly, she whips an arm in his direction while holding a newly materialized food brick in her hand from the [Cornecopia] class.
Another of their group jumps in at the two’s bickering. A [Knight] in everything but armor and weapons. The tall and handsome man replies, “C’mon, guys. This isn’t helping anyone. Emma, we talked about it this morning already. What else can we do but walk and try to look for something?” A hint of desperation enters his voice. “We don’t even know where we are or if anyone is looking for us in the first place.”
“Oh, get off it, Rick. You’re just as bad as Larry the [Bard] over there. Choosing a class like [Knight].” Emma turns to him in exasperation while hooking her thumb in Larry’s direction.
“Uh, my name is Evan, actually.” The bard says while Rick simply looks at him as Emma glares in Evan’s direction.
He sheepishly looks around again before his eyes widen, and a chain net snaps around him. Emma feverishly looks around, only to see Rick sprinting in another direction before being taken down. A real [Knight], that one.
A net hits her and takes the wind out of her lungs. She hears two more thuds as Becca and Lewis hit the ground, and an intimidating figure fills her view.
Headless and with a giant smile stretching across its abdomen. The figure stares down at her with ghostly eyes on each of its pecs while a boot encompasses her sight.