“Perhaps I should write about the locals' way of life. The Rahal Clan speaks fluently the Common tongue, although between themselves they mostly use a complicated dialect of their own. Their customs and etiquette doesn't look that much different from the Empire's. Some feel somewhat archaic, but that's about it. From what I've seen, the regular attire consists of a simple light coloured gown or some sort of toga, the kind that hasn't been worn since the Empire's early times. Linen or cotton pants and mundane sandals or leather boots complete the set. For the cold days, they use feathered coats instead of furred ones. Quite frugal, but elegant in a way, I must admit.

Major disparities however lay in their upbringing and the hierarchy of the village. I've noticed that some gowns are more or less decorated with embroideries. Gold, silver or crimson colours appear to be worn by higher ranked Rahal. I witnessed some sort of reverence, an almost religious respect directed to these individuals. What caught my interest was the fact that some of those high ranked gown-wearers were mere children. Perhaps this has to do with what I came here for in the first place...

-Anton's diary, 1st journey to the island”

* * *

Azcheron

“The sun was setting and the sky casted a warm, soft light upon the port city of Longhills. It was the in fief of lord Koven, and news of his supposed demise had been circulating for a few weeks. Despite that, the town wasn't thrown in disarray or anything. Proof being that as usual, while the evening would soon come, the streets were getting lively, especially around the port. As Longhills was a costal city, located in a favourable place for trade, with the quickest access to the islands, the day would see many merchants and travellers doing commerce, while when night approach taverns and streets would become crowded with sailors and all sort of people.

Two men stepped on the quays. They just had gotten off their ship after a long travel through the many islands close to the continent.

These two people had initially planned to come here months earlier, but for reasons known only to few, had deemed wiser to wait a bit longer. As they delayed their arrival, they had been visiting and staying at the neighbouring eastern islands. They recently decided to finally land on the continent since the tempest season was about to begin. Not a lot of people really wanted to be on an island, lest a boat, in such times.

While they walked the streets, the younger of the two spoke.”

“... Err... What the hell are you talking about, Azcheron ?”

Yes, that would be me, by the way ! I believe I'd make for a good narrator. I'm thinking it's a proper beginning for the epic tale that will be... my... epic tale. Eh, I can't think of another denomination. I'm not bragging or anything ! It's just that I have ambitions. No one should judge me.

Well, anyway, Azcheron spoke.

“So this is Longhills, huh. It does seem nice and lively. I hate to admit it, but the imbecile seemed apt at managing a city,” Azcheron said, ignoring Anton's confused question, while looking at everything. The people, the streets, the houses. He had read and heard about everything in books, stories and whatnot, but it surely was something else to witness all this at first hand.

Especially these houses. Very different from what they had on the island. Here it was all stone, two or three floors at least, and each level extended slightly beyond the previous one. It gave the feeling of opposed houses forming an arch as they grew higher. Very curious.

“Why, of course. It'd be pretty hard for this town not to be prosperous, considering all the things it has going for itself,” Anton answered, obviously not knowing what to think of his friend's enigmatic narration attempt, which he could not possibly comprehend. Anton probably hadn't any habit of living his life like it was a tale or a legend. He must have been thinking that he was a responsible adult, not a teenager living in a whimsy. That was what the Saint assumed while reading Anton's complicated expression.

As Azcheron forgave the strange look on his friend's face, and the obvious belittlement he was the target of, he noticed many people also eyeing him in a strange way.

I must look like a foreigner or some country bumpkin who has never been in a city. Which is true. However I perfectly dislike being designated as such. I should warn these people. Please call me an ambassador or a mysterious traveller. Whichever you prefer. You know what happens if you don't. I'll feel disrespected. That means beheading or something.

Well, he was not saying that out loud. He was gathering enough attention for the moment, and didn't want to have the city watch going after him because some old woman went and told them he was threatening everyone. Azcheron was supposed to build a good reputation in the continent. Or else they'd think his clan were all barbarian and they'd send fleets to exterminate everyone, or some other displeasing scenario he'd rather avoid.

 “I suppose so.”

“Right then. Let's find someplace to spend the night. I'll show you the real lively side of the town.” Anton smirked, and led them to an inn.

* * *

They arrived quite late to the town and the taverns were almost already filled, so the search turned out to be tedious. They finally found a place that wasn't entirely booked. They opened the door and entered with fashion. First impressions were always important. Azcheron saw some lone drinkers and prowlers giving them glances and trying to look tough. But most people were in groups and too busy loudly chatting and having great banter to care about the newcomers.

Yes, they were loud. It was getting inconveniencing. Would they really spend the evening and the night here ? Azcheron had to voice his concerns to his friend.

“Anton, I knew sailors could get noisy, but this is almost annoying.” He frowned.

“Funny that you're the one saying that. You Rahal people almost make me go deaf every time you speak in that imperious voice infused with sound magic,” the old man mocked.

Hnnng, that may be true but we do it on purpose, at least. And it's usually either me or Vara. Only one at a time. Here there are like fifty of these noisy bums !

Azcheron didn't bother to answer and simply snorted. Anton carried on.

“And well, I wouldn't have it otherwise. At least grant me this favour. Soon I'll have to return to those gloomy cold rooms where you only hear a chair creaking from time to time, that is the Academy.”

They approached to counter to rent a room. The woman attending made them wait a bit while she was busy dealing with a mountain of order. Either they were understaffed, or they were having an unusually successful evening. Finally, it was their turn.

“Sorry for the wait. What can I do for you ?”

“Two rooms, please. And...” Anton turned toward the Saint. “Are you hungry, Azcheron ?”

“Hm. Lady, what do you recommend us ?”

Azcheron noticed the receptionist taking a moment to eye him. He wasn't surprised. He had long flowing blonde hair loosely tied up at mid-length, somewhere down in the back, and that kept going till the waist – an uncommon hairdo around here, from what he saw. He must have looked like a gladiator from the south.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

But apparently it was his clothes that caught her attention. He wore an dull brown-greyish overcoat with dark feathers around the collar, and underneath he had a regular tunic with patterns and embroideries. He didn't take the Saint's gown, because it was fairly fragile and people would probably try to rob him, thinking that he was a prince of some sort. Unnecessary trouble. Like everyone else they crossed since they had arrived, the girl could surely guess that he wasn't from the Empire.

Not that he was purposely making it obvious, but in the end there was no real need to hide everything about him. In a few years, everyone would know about Azcheron and the Rahal clan.

“I'd say try the fish. We got a fresh batch today. There isn't much else to eat right now,” She finally replied while hastily handing out the keys for their rooms.

“So be it. Thank you,” Azcheron answered, as Anton took the keys and grabbed a few coins from a pouch.

Fish in a port, of course. I'm sick of fish. We've been eating that for months. Well, no use in complaining now. Soon enough I'll be so far from the sea that fish will be hard to pass by.

After going up in their rooms to put their luggage, Azcheron and Anton came back in the hall to have a meal and a drink.

“So when are you going back to the Academy ?” Azcheron asked.

“As soon as I can. I already had to extend my leave, so it wouldn't do to delay my return any longer. I'll need to meet with the current head of the town to tie loose ends regarding the disappearance of Koven and his men.”

He thought for a bit, then continued in a lower voice.

“It'll be a hassle, but we shouldn't have anything to worry about. Officially, Koven Sarlas and his mercenaries left without me on their own ship not long after he got on the island and that's the last we've heard of them. My crew aren't idiots, so they'll go with our story or keep their mouth shut this time to avoid trouble. I think they understand now how careless chats in taverns can turn for the worst. The rumours from the islands will do the rest.”

They deliberately waited a few months to avoid coming back to Longhills at the expected time without Lord Koven. 'Conveniently', rumours that Koven had died on the sea started to come from the neighbouring islands. Most spoke of pirates or shipwreck.

“Sorry about that.” He didn't even try to look sorry. “Still, the rumour with the pirates seems to work quite well. Are pirates popular around here ?” They had been hearing about it even before they came to Longhills.

“Something to do with the increasing banditry, I gather. It was already worrying before I came to see you, and it probably didn't get any better.”

Bandits, huh. I wonder if I'll meet some. That would be interesting. Every good story needs bandits.

“Not that they would prove to be trouble for us,” Anton added, as if reading his mind. “Are you coming with me to the capital ?”

“I was thinking about it. I guess I'll take this as an opportunity to wander around a bit by myself. Can't have you babysit me forever, old friend.”

“I had a feeling you'd say that. That's fine, I guess. You're more than capable to get by on you own. I don't know if you'll keep away from trouble but I don't doubt you can get out of it easily,” Anton said with a smug face.

“Is trouble not a part of this world ? It would be a shame to miss on a chapter of the book.”

“As long as you don't bring me any trouble, I don't have anything to say.”

They both chuckled and finished eating their fish. Azcheron did so with a reluctant expression.

* * *

Azcheron awoke to a creaking sound.

What time is it ? The whole inn is silent. It must still be night.

He kept his eyes closed and tried to breath as a sleeping man would. Waiting for the creaking sound to happen again.

Did I imagine it ? Maybe I was so eager to start my adventure that I'm convincing myself that I already have thieves and assassins coming after me. Haha !

But the creaking occurred again. Was it really coming from his room ? He couldn't be sure. If it was, it was probably a thief that spotted him when they entered the inn. One of these lone prowlers sitting all by themselves. Loners were the worst. They didn't have friends for a reason.

Well, Azcheron had to admit that he was a loner, too. His only friend was Anton and they'd see each other once a year at best because of the old mage's work in the capital. All the other clansmen were either like family, or were always acting like subordinates when they talked to him. It truly was a lonely job, being the Saint. So, he had nothing against loners ! Except those who came into his room to do whatever people who came into other's room did.

Hrmpf, guess I'll use magic to blind the guy and see for myself what's going on in this damn room.

Keeping his eyes closed, Azcheron gathered mana in the room, then suddenly created an intense light. A groan could be heard. The guy was probably refraining from screaming his lungs out, because his eyes should be feeling like they were burning. However one could not scream in the room they were trying to intrude in, especially when the victim was sleeping in said room. When Azcheron was sure that the brightness had dimmed, he turned around to look at the culprit.

He was... a she ?

Eh, I didn't expect that. That's the girl from the counter. The heck is she doing here. She knocked to the wrong door if she thinks she can get some action with me. No, what the hell, she didn't even knock ! That's even worse. Either she's a pervert, or she's no pervert at all and she's a damn thief. Or an assassin !

Azcheron put Anton's lesson in practise, and questioned her with words first instead of doing something rash like adding three new elbows to her arm.

“You want to die or something ?”

Sure, it was not very original. But there was no way he'd act all polite with a thief, and he was elegant enough not to beat her up already, so, it was a middle ground. Azcheron was not particularly good at middle grounds. He either did very polite or very dead. His speciality was doing both at the same time. Polite threats.

This time he had just woken up and he didn't care, so it was fine.

The girl looked at him like he was some sort of... nothing ? She couldn't see him ? It didn't seem like she had regained her vision yet. Was she faking it ? Or it maybe was because the room was really dark and she just had the combined light of five sun thrown at her face. Maybe his spell made her permanently blind. He repeated his question anyway.

“Are you deaf in addition to being blind ? You want to die or something ?”

“Uh... uh- err... I can't s-”

“See me, yes, I know. That was the point of my spell. Are you here to steal me or to assassinate me ? Spit it out, and fast, or I'll just kill you and go back to sleep.”

“Wh- ! What !? NO ! I work at the inn ! Listen !”

Hrrah, this is going to take a moment, I can feel it. She really doesn't look that threatening, but you never know. I'll act as if she was a mortal enemy that I had to trick. And more importantly I'll urge her to get on with it.

“Get on with it.”

“I, err... This is the room I normally use, but we had a large clientele tonight, so...”

Eh ? Ah. I see. Well. In this case.

“I don't care ! Why are you telling me this now anyway !”

“It's just that I gave you the key without thinking, and, it's fine, but I forgot to take my stuff out, and... err... I need it ? I used the master key to come in...”

So it's a thief stealing from its own room ? Right.

“Then take your things and get out. Then I'll melt the lock after that because you are the fishiest person ever.”

“Sorry ! Thank you ! ...Can you tell me where the drawer is ?”

“You're a pain.” Azcheron lit up a small flame to illuminate the room. The girl looked surprised. It seemed like she indeed just had trouble with the obscurity. He watched her as she silently went through her stuff, took a god-damn brush, bowed and leaved, all in a very prompt fashion. A brush. Damn fishy. It can't be that he had to wake up and deal with an intruder, just because of a brush. He didn't even want to know what she was really here for, he was too tired. Azcheron closed the door, melted the lock, and went back to sleep.

They'd find another inn tomorrow.