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62nd of Summer, 5859
Yellowclover Village, Outskirts of the City of Casamonu
Yellowclover was once a peaceful village. One so minor, so unimportant, that its name would have been scrubbed off records not out of a grand conspiracy but out of the fact that nobody cared about it enough.
On such a peaceful day, Shinasi Sr. was sitting as he oft did. He was outside, on a stool, overlooking their small garden. Sure, they didn’t officially own any land due to being lowly peasants, but no pesky lords would bat an eye to them planting a few crops in the empty space around their house. Most popular was tobacco, a cash crop that got them enough money to repair an old shoe now and then, and there was also a few cucumbers for pickling.
“Don’t pick them so harshly, you’re going to ruin the plants.” In absence of any workable legs for work, Shinasi did his best by instructing his one and only daughter on the field. Child labor was considered as just ordinary labor for the inhabitants of Gemeinplatz. Thankfully, Shirin had it much better compared to the children and slaves in the mines. Working the fields carried a whole lot less risk of lung cancer, and the warm sunlight was much friendlier compared to a dank shaft. “Be gentler with them.”
“Yes, yes.” Shirin wasn’t really listening to any advice like any child of her age would do. “You want to eat some?” She extended a cucumber to her father as an offering of peace.
“Thank you.” Shinasi received his cucumber and bit into it. It didn’t taste superb, especially as it lacked the ever-expensive salt. Salt was for pickling, not snacking. It was like a bomb made of cool water going off in his mouth and that’s all that he needed at that moment. “This year’s batch looks pretty good. These’ll make some good pickles.”
“I’ll get them in before they dry.” Shirin collected the cucumbers into a straw basket and let her father be alone. All Shinasi could do was listen to the cicadas, watch the leaves, and think deeply about the immortality of the crab. He actually had never seen a crab, and he did often ponder about them. How big was a crab? How did adventurers deal with such a beast? Was it really immortal as he had heard it was?
Such notions of pondering giant immortal crabs was thrown aside when he heard a group of screams quickly approach his premises. “Run! Run for your lives!”
“Savages!”
“Brutes!”
“Doom!”
Now, such commotion was pretty uncommon for Shinasi Sr. to see. In fact, it was uncommon for any action to happen in Yellowclover. Whatever it was though, these people seemed to be genuinely running away from something fierce. Shinasi called out to some of the runners, but they were too running for their lives to take the briefest of pause. Then he called for Shirin as well, but she didn’t pop out the house like he hoped.
There wasn’t much that Shinasi could do but wait for the inevitable.
He watched as the runners from before came back with whatever “weaponry” they could scrounge up. This hastily assembled mob assembled themselves into a blob which didn’t look too promising as a fighting force. There was no coordination, none of anything, just the collective survival instincts of the human mass.
Shinasi wasn’t in a mood to review the military capabilities of the mob in front of him however. Instead, his shout was mixing into the shouts of the mob, “Shirin! Where are you?!” mixing into similar cries searching for loved ones. No matter how much he cried out, Shirin seemed to not come out that house. “Shirin, are you fine? Shirin!” Shinasi lunged down from the chair and he began crawling on the ground with his arms. At least he could still do that, and he’d find his daughter even if it meant crawling to the end of the world. “I’m coming over, hold on!”
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No matter his dedication though, the body of an old man entering his sixties wasn’t made for crawling. It seemed that time had slowed down. Every little movement felt like an eternity. His ear was forced to the ground, he heard the clops of horses approaching. The mob immediately dissolved into screaming individuals the moment they saw the approaching cavalry. There was a man shouting: “Peasants, dissolve!” Then the cavalry seemingly came to a halt, as there was an absence of noise that Shinasi could hear.
“In the name of I, Sir Corvus II, Baron of Yellowclover, we have come to collect the taxes that rightfully belong to him. You are sixty days behind in your tax payments. We’ll be clearing your debts with interest.” A clap echoed throughout the village. “Men, proceed with payment.”
The horses clopped once more, and there were sounds of doors being broken and people screaming. Shinasi was doing the best he can to drag himself into his house, but his arms were slow and he was getting even more tired by the second. “Shirin! Hide yourself! Run! Oh please, just, run…” Even his voice was giving out. His vision was clouded by tears.
No matter how much he dragged his arms, he seemed to stay in place. Was he imagining it? Had time become so slow for him that it seemed like an eternity? It felt that way. Shinasi wasn’t moving. He decided that he’d use the last of his breath on prayer, to maybe appease the Divine for one last time in hopes of reaching a good otherworld in the end. Still, despite having given up hope, he was still crawling forward in some hope. Hope that he’d at least see his child one more time before eternally departing this realm. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Shirin, then she disappeared when he opened them, then Shinasi Jr. when he closed them again, yet he was gone when they were open once more. Time was slow. He wasn’t moving an inch. Shinasi wasn’t moving. He turned his head to look back.
There was a soldier smiling with amusement at the man crawling under his feet.
“Oh…”
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62nd of Summer, 5859
Casamonu, City of Casamonu
Things were quite the mess, especially for Sir Korvus II.
First his father, Sir Korvus Jr. had been killed in battle. His grandfather, Sir Korvus Sr., was a bit too old to manage anything, and so Sir Korvus II had the honor of having to manage the family’s estate around Casamonu. “And, by the time I had returned to the city, there wasn’t anyone left to stop me from taking over. They had been too busy killing each other.”
“Then it is as Master Long has predicted.” In front of Sir Korvus, who now occupied the office of the count, was a man in long flowing white robes. He was obviously a cultivator of some sort, and he was taking notes while Korvus talked.
“What did he predict?”
“That there shall be a great time of strife before the arrival of the Demon King.” He gently gestured towards the window, indirectly pointing to the city itself. The only thing visible from such a high floor was the smoke from the quarters of the city which were still burning. “He shall arrive when the Empire is eating itself whole, and Master predicts that his attack will be soon.”
“Yes, yes. I can consult one of the doomsday preachers outside my door if I want to hear the same thing.” Sir Korvus sighed with great boredom. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I’m just here to plunder Casamonu dry before I make my way to the capital; I’m too young to spend my time with these uncivilized ignoramuses in the borderlands.”
The disciple stated matter-of-factly “You’ll die if you go there now.”
“Is that a threat?” Korvus reached for an ornamental knife on his belt.
“No. I, and any of my comrades, could have your head right now. You’d have been long dead if Master wanted you gone.”
“Then how can you be so sure of my death?” Despite his disbelieving tone on the outside, Korvus had internally become uneasy. He shifted around in his seat.
“There will be tension in the capital. Master says that the seeds have already been sown. You don’t want to be there when it blooms.”
“What tension?” Korvus leaned forward. He was intrigued.
“That only a few know, and I’m nothing but a lowly disciple.”
“You use such flowery language for a lowly disciple.” The few cultivators that Korvus encountered had all loved to speak in odd metaphors, which only annoyed him.
“One of the first lessons we receive is in speech.” The disciple coughed loudly “Anyways, that is not the point. Master just wants you to help in vanquishing the Demon King in his first attack. Just stay here a few days, avoid the capital, and Master will reward you for the effort. I hear that he has a few fine jade beauties he’d like to get off his hands… along with other material rewards.”
“That sounds…”
“All good?”
“All…”
“Good.”
“…good.” Korvus found no harm in at least humoring this Master.
“Good.” replied the disciple. “Master himself will be here shortly. Listen to him, and everyone will win.”
Korvus blinked. The disciple was gone. “Huh?”
Korvus blinked again. Now there was another man who had a beard long and magnificent enough to qualify as a master.
Korvus blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Yet the man refused to go away.
Just who had he agreed to?