Thomas Daal, Hero of Light, stepped forth from the dimensional gate from the Dungeon Zone, the Tower of Midnight, and into the plaza set before the real world mirror of the dungeon itself. On the cool coast of the northwest the Tower of Midnight was one of his favorite dungeons to revisit. It always had a new challenge and there was always more to explore if one was willing to face the dangers higher and higher into the Tower. There was always a new mystery, a new stage, or puzzle locked behind the myriad and ever changing mazes.
The first levels of the Tower of Midnight was considered a mid level Dungeon Zone by the Gods. It was a place where those with advanced jobs like Fighter, Cleric, Ranger, Wizard, Priest and Rogue could go in as a party and clear the first few levels in safety while giving challenges and rewards worth the time. Often given to mazes and puzzles that were time consuming in failure more often than abruptly fatal. The lower levels at least were a more or less safe place to test one's team before going against more lucrative and challenging dungeons across the nation before coming back later, time and time again, to challenge the further heights of the Tower. The magic items that could be received within were sought after as well providing a needed boost to the coin purses to new adventurers as well as a great place for the Armies of the God of Light to come during times of peace. Squads could be assembled like adventuring teams and sent inside to truly test them, and to keep their edges sharp as well give them some much needed equipment from the loot found inside.
It made the Tower of Midnight, and the nearby town of Bakasla a great place to buy land or a home as an adventurer. There was access to magical goods being sold, a dungeon nearby to go into yourself, and plenty of interesting people coming through to bring all sorts of news and information in. One could learn and study there just by talking to the newcomers, and learn the secrets of the dungeon by buying drinks for those just coming back. Thomas had thought about doing so himself, even buying a home there, or building one himself on the various plots of land sold inside the walls, but life seemed to have other plans. He always had a home now anywhere there was a temple to the God of Light. He stretched feeling the heavy loot contained within his magically enlarged bag. It was bigger inside than it appeared, even now looking merely stuffed full instead of bulging and overflowing from every side like it should have been. While only the size of his back the bag itself could hold full length Pikes upright inside. It was a neat trick of magic that Thomas would have to look into some day. Some day. For now he was doing everything he could as the Hero of Light to better himself and make a prime example for the people of the world.
Hero was a title job. One that anyone could earn and had no requirements other than a God deigned to grant it to a mortal. Such as had happened with Thomas. The God of Light had noticed him and saw the Light in his heart, and made him his newest champion. The thought always filled Thomas with renewed resolve.
He would show them Theadus's kinder side as a symbol of the security provided by his rule as first among equals of the Gods. He knew his God wished to spread his rule and light over the world giving him some reason to speak out against him, but Thomas felt in his heart that his God was right and loved those who followed him. Thomas could be the bridge, the shining symbol to the love and kindness of his God, that would lead the unenlightened to follow him into the grace of the light.
Thomas's armor shown, the magical golden plates of his armor catching the late afternoon sun, his tabard laced with enchanted thread of gold displaying the three golden rays proudly across his chest, as he stood in the plaza laid out before the Tower of midnight. His blonde hair was tossed by the gentle and lazy summer wind. His blue eyes shone bright as he took in the last rays of the sun setting in the western skies. He felt invigorated after that last Boss fight. He had gone in alone this time, as he had been given a lead by his party's earlier findings only to have them confirmed by his God in the flesh. The solo experience in the Tower of Midnight had really challenged him, and the last foe, a valiant Dark Knight, had been a true test of not only Thomas's martial skill, but of his resolve against the darkness and the bloodthirsty.
Thomas saw that there were few adventuring parties camped about the entrance of the tower, which was not unusual, but when he waved to them even those who saw him did not spare him more than that glance. An unsettling quiet seemed to have gone over the camp while he was gone. Thomas did not despair. Perhaps a party had died or come out wounded before he had come out. Things like that happened sometimes, but that only made it all the more important that he continue training his Hero of the Light Job.
He found the stableman of the small village that had grown outside the tower and around the stone plaza of its magically sealed dimensional gates. One could around them and while not enter the tower itself they could at least explore the grounds that would be mirrored inside. Their were even some minor monsters in the grounds that might prove some little challenge for beginners too. There was even treasure to be found at times, but hardly anything to compare with what would be given after defeating the first of the floor bosses. As Thomas understood the Tower of Midnight was one of many such tower type dungeons that existed throughout the world.
The Dungeon Zones themselves were a creation of the Gods, and often only created when a dungeon was too near population centers. It kept the dangerous creatures inside away from the good people who worked the land and sought lives of peace. As a bonus it kept many of those who stand against the gods from gaining easy access to items and challenge enough to raise their skills to dangerous levels. All those dungeons nearby were sealed by the Pantheon and entrance could only be gained by gaining the rights to a Dungeon Zone Key, or by purchasing a magically produced temporary pass inside that could be made by most churches. Those passes were purchased by many groups time and time again, and while expensive their cost was well made up by those who did well inside. That along with trade tariffs and taxes fueled the Theocracy and its offices in many cities across the nation.
To Thomas's mind it was a good and right way to do things. The Dungeons were by far the most magically rich areas one could come across, and besides a source of almost never ending resource as usually all manner of rich ore, plants, and material could be found inside the dimensional gates of dungeon time and time again by adventurers with the right skills. The same could be found in the real world, but like those who explored the base of the Tower of Midnight, the findings were poor and few, and likely gone over by the hands of thousands of questing adventurers throughout the years.
Sealing them such that the monsters inside could not escape and that the church should approve of who stepped inside to face its challenges not only kept everyone safe, but kept the mean and evil from gaining power at any rate a proper adventurer couldn't face down with ease.
The stable man got him his horse after a few moments, but Thomas couldn't shake the clear unease he sensed in the man. Thomas's Insight attribute wasn't his greatest attribute, but it was high for his age, and one of the few attributes not boosted by his Hero of the Light Job. The stableman was nervous. Thomas remembered that he had worn a talisman of the Goddess Istania when he had come to the dungeon days before. The man was proud of the simple steel wrought piece, it had looked cared for, and often handled. Likely he praised the Goddess for some little aid in his given craft; Thomas could sense some little mana in him, so maybe he could cast the odd healing spell to save the horses in his care some little time resting. Yet the man would not meet his eye, and rushed to go saddle his horse. He had seemed so cheerful before.
Thomas took his horse, Featherfoot, by the reins and guided him out of the building as he considered the uncertain tingle, the little nagging feeling, that he had in the back of his head. He guided the young stallion out into the plaza a little ways and off to one side to unpack some of his things into the horses saddle bags. Featherfoot rolled his eyes at Thomas and sought out his hand for a few strokes of his nose. Thomas smiled at his friend, shushing him and murmuring softly to him. The animal wasn't a warhorse, but Thomas's riding horse, and a brave companion nonetheless. Featherfoot was fast and sleek with good lines and long legs; a true racer, if only papers and pedigree had come with the young foal his father had traded for long ago.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Thomas took out weapons, armor, and trinkets alike all bursting with magic and strange effects and transferred them over to the saddle bags. With a little care he would even out the weight and give Featherfoot an easier time carrying him. The horse snorted at him and flicked his tail until he got it just right.
“There, there, old friend. I'll have it right in just a moment. Hold on. Hold on.” Thomas told the beast.
He wasn't satisfied until it was done and the load was just right. Nothing was too heavy and none of the various odds or ends poked through the saddle cloth to bother the horse when he was done.
Thomas mounted and cast his eyes about as Featherfoot frisked lightly. He was eager to get going. Thomas gave the slightest flick of the reins to let the animal walk letting the trusty animal control the pace.
The people still would not look at him. There was an absence. An unease. Thomas tried to reason out what it was his instincts were picking up on. He smelled the air, and adjusted his grip on the reins. There was a faint smell of burning, and something about it brought the scent of blood to his nose too. Like war. Thomas tried not to think about that and what he had seen while serving with the army in the south. He tried not to think of burning islands, and magic scarred villages with empty streets surrounded by forest fires.
He rode Featherfoot out of the village and onto the road. There was little traffic. That wasn't too strange since it would be dark soon. An adventuring party was coming on down the way, but his insight skill picked up on some sensation of panic even if his eyes didn't catch just what the party was so eager to hide. One of their number bore the lines on her neck so typical of those who might wear a talisman of faith on a leather thong or chain. His Hero job enhanced many of his senses and it was easy to pick out that she wore it often enough out in the open that it had left tanlines. She looked like their healer, an alchemist type by her gear, but one who might seek the aid of faith in her spells to give them that extra edge.
His Perception attribute, the one that helped sense all things around him magical and mundane, brought him hushed whispers of his name and title. He was well known. That was not a surprise, but they had reacted in fear, and kept their heads down and eyes ahead instead of calling out and meeting with him. Curious, and worried, he turned his mount to follow after their wagon.
“Hail friends.” He called.
The driver almost reluctantly raised a hand in greeting. Concern, not for Thomas or at his approach toward the man, but painted toward another in the party brushed through the senses given by Thomas's Insight. He blinked and followed the man's rather quick glance over his party. The Alchemist girl again. She did a good job of looking casual as she went to the opposite side of the wagon to which Thomas now rode with them back toward the village.
“Hero. It's good to see you.” The driver said.
He was a stout man, well built, and sat in a way that was non-threatening, but ready nonetheless to leap into the fight. He must have had at least a few martial Jobs for Thomas to so casually sense it. Thomas's Hero Skill, Sense of Light, also told him that he was a Worshiper of the Gods, as well as a general sense of his character. He was as he appeared, a hardy and courageous front line man, bold and unafraid to face down whatever came his way. And yet...Thomas knew he made the man nervous for the Alchemist girl.
“I've been in the Tower for something close to a week now. Tell me how are the roads? Has it rained at all or will I have good travels?” Thomas asked.
“Been fine. Just fine. We made it all the way here from Bakasla today no problem. Didn't know you were out here. Thought you would be uh..well I suppose that was only three days ago...” The fighting man said, his grip going a little lax on the reins, but the two animals pulling it kept on seeming to know where to go and what pace to keep.
The man seemed puzzled then, Thomas sensed it clearly from all of the party actually as they listened. He pushed off his light hood and looked at the hero of light with an expression to match. The worry seemed to have left his thoughts for the moment though he spared the Alchemist girl a glance. The Alchemist girl's hand nearly went to her neck before she forced her hand back down.
Thomas schooled his face after picking up on just a little of something in that woman. Terror. Horrible fear and loss. His hands tightened on his reins and Featherfoot caught his mood a little snorting nervously.
“What happened three days ago?” Thomas asked, keeping his voice smooth and as casual as he could manage.
This had him worried though his Hero Skill, Mind of the Light, gave all those but his own God a hard time looking in upon his thoughts no matter how powerful their insight attribute might be.
The Alchemist girl finally lowered her hood and met his eye. Her fear and concern was painted all about her as much as it showed in her eyes. But she did not speak. The fighting man driving the wagon raised a hand toward her clearly thinking she might.
“Theadus has turned against Istania. Official word is that the Goddess of Healing was harboring someone, or something that she meant to turn against your Lord.” The words pained him, and all the more for the expression that came across Thomas's face.
The fighting man had a good mind for noticing details and likely didn't have enough Insight to have magically potent senses because of it, but he certainly seemed to have read enough in what Thomas showed him in his shock.
Thomas's mind reeled as if struck. He was stunned. He flexed his fingers in the reins and tried to sort out what he just heard as real. Only days ago he had been in the Temple of Healing in Bakasla refining the healing spells he knew, and getting advice on how best to gain a skill that might heal and dispel afflictions at once outside of his Hero abilities. He could do both with a spell specialized for either, but wanted a magic or skill that might let him do both at once at a touch to stabilize an ally in desperate need. The kind priestesses had been such a help, the Father, the High Priest Templar, looking over the temple even more so.
“Is it...” Thomas gasped, barely able to speak. “Is it civil war then? What has happened?”
The fighter's face twisted into a frown.
“He killed her! He killed Istania! Sent his armies without any warning at all! He killed them! Everyone!” The alchemist girl snarled, stepping forward to be seen between the wagon and horses.
The fighter raised his hand, and panic went through the party on the wagon and off. They looked to Thomas, hands going for weapons, and watching for him to take up his.
“Chrissy!” The fighter hissed trying to shush her.
“He killed her! Theadus killed Istania!” The alchemist girl hissed again as her eyes filled with tears, and her presence filled with pain and anguish to Thomas's Insight.
She clutched at where the pendant should have been inside her shirt. No doubt the missing string that made the tan lines around her neck had once held the Caduceus of Istania to hang between her breasts.
“They aren't saying it, but they're dragging everyone off! Everyone known to worship her! He killed her and he's trying to purge everything she ever touched!” Her stabbing words ended in sobs as the other woman in the group came to her side.
All the men looked to her at least once, but then their eyes set before facing Thomas. He felt their determination, their love for their companion, and suddenly the wariness they held before had a new color. They weren't just going for an adventure. They were getting away from the city, away from his Order, and the Knights of Sunlight. And going with fear.
Thomas looked over their heavily loaded wagon. They had supplies to last the winter, and maybe longer, considering their ranger's and alchemist's skills. Most of what they carried was building supplies now that Thomas looked. They were going to live out in the wilds. Likely they would sell crops and get supplies in the village. It would be nothing glorious, but Thomas could make out their bond, more than friends and closer to family. Yet Thomas could hardly spare them thought. This couldn't be happening.
“I...I have to go...” Thomas said weakly. He felt faint.
He turned his horse.
“I won't speak of your friend, and you have nothing to fear of me. Ever. No one should. I... I am... No. I..” He didn't have the words and kicked Featherfoot into a gallop tearing down the road and away from the little village around the Tower of Midnight.