The Corsairs of the Ardent Watch Club looked exactly as he imagined it would. It would have fit perfectly on an ivy league college campus. Heavy granite walls shaped the exterior of the structure. The roof was made of a darker slate. Large pointed-topped windows made up of small leaded diamond panes were recessed into the gray stone. Brass railings bordered the wide stairs to a pair of heavy mahogany-looking doors. And, of course, the whole thing stood behind an iron fence with arrow-tipped rods.
Joe had cleaned up but he still felt horribly underdressed as he approached the complex. A guard gestured for him to step up and speak with her when he reached the gate.
“Your name, sir?” she asked in a polite voice.
“Joe. Joe Morris,” he replied, still feeling out of his element.
“Very good, Count Randeau has left word of your visit. If you would follow Mathiss there,” she said indicating a scaled man stepping up to them. Mathiss wore a black coat, and white gloves, and had serpentine features. “He will show you where you can clean up before your meal with the Count.”
“Thank you. Is there anything I need to change into? These are all the clothes I have at the moment, but I don’t want to embarrass Count Valloc.”
“What you have on is fine. You can go in as is. Far too often many of our members show up still dripping from their latest hunt,” she stated, rolling her eyes. “You will not be out of place dressed as you are.”
“Thanks …” Joe started but tailed off his voice expectantly.
“Cazcara,” the woman supplied with a warm smile.
“Thanks again, Cazcara.”
He followed the scaled usher up the stone steps and through the ornate doorway. As Mathiss led him into the foyer, Joe stopped cold, overwhelmed by the sight in front of him. Staring down on the entryway was a titanic dragon, glaring at him with an open-mouthed snarl. Flame red eyes glowed under darker red scaled brows. Fangs as long as his arm curved to deadly points. A whole horse could fit into that vast maw. Fins of red flesh fanned the head, making the whole visage even larger.
His guide must have been well accustomed to this reaction. He took hold of Joe’s elbow and steered him to a side door off the main hallway. “This way, Sir,” Mathiss stated calmly.
As Joe’s angle shifted, he realized it was just the head of the mighty creature mounted on the wall, strategically placed to awe any newcomer to the hunter’s club. When he was able to wrest his eyes away from the crimson wyrm, he saw other heads also lining the side walls. Joe caught sight of a fierce golden boar and some vicious looking sea-creature before Mathiss whisked him into a large washroom.
There were half a dozen sinks and mirrors, and Joe could hear the sound of a shower coming from around a corner. The serpent-man led Joe to a large block where several wands were stuck into holes in a varnished board, like pegs. He indicated Joe should step up on the riser and when he did the well-dressed aide grabbed the lowest rod and tapped Joe’s boots. The magic from the item did not repair the damage to his overly-worn footgear but it did give them a more presentable polish. Mathiss moved through the wands and upward over Joe’s body until the last one lifted a huge mass of tower grit from his hair before taming the locks into a semblance of order.
Joe reached into his pouch and took out a gold piece, hoping he was not being too cheap. The world seemed to operate on a silver standard, so he might be over-tipping but this place seemed to cater to affluent patrons. Mathiss simply thanked him but gave Joe no sign that his tip was appropriate either way. He once again took the lead and guided Joe back through the front hall.
Now that the massive dragon head did not stupify Joe, though it still was hard to look away from, he noticed that the hall continued under the dragon and curved stairs led upward on either side of the mighty trophy. Mathiss mounted the closer steps and Joe followed him past several brightly lit dining areas. About halfway down the hallway, he turned into a room, and Joe saw Count Randeau. The room was another dining room, big enough to hold a dozen small tables. In the center of the room was a square bar, shaped from pale, well-lacquered wood.
The Count was leaning against it, with a snifter of some dark red liquor, speaking with a group of well-dressed men. While each of them was wearing attire more formal than Joe's, they each had on them various utilitarian weapons and gear that suggested these were not men and women whose existence was limited to courts and social events.
On seeing Joe enter, Valloc disengaged himself and indicted a nearby table. The surface was already filled with numerous dishes and drinks. Joe saw fruit juices but not in the colors he would typically expect. There were exotic pastries as well. As he sat, he finally encountered one familiar sight when the Count lifted the cover off a bowl of very normal-looking scrambled eggs.
“I ordered the brunch for us but we can switch to a more midday fare if you prefer,” Valloc stated, indicating the dishes.
“Not at all, breakfast for lunch, or dinner, for that matter, is always great,” Joe replied. He filled his plate with eggs and took a couple of slices of grilled meat that was definitely not bacon but smelled just as good. He added some cut fruit. Seeing that the Count had taken his first bite, Joe dug in, hungrier than he expected to be. He worried the eggs would be some weird translation but he was surprised to find they tasted just like their counterparts from Earth’s. They were cooked perfectly too. Not all slimy but not too dry either.
After several minutes, the nobleman broke the silence. “Well, let’s start by getting the looming beast out of the room. The Writ of Innocence has been filed and accepted by the church of Glauri. The Phelatians may still grumble and grouse but they have no just cause against you anymore. You are now free to do as you wish.”
“Thank goodness,” Joe sighed. He had assumed the writ was going to straighten things out for him but he could not convince himself to put much trust in it without the Count’s confirmation. He had been unconsciously waiting for another shoe to drop. It felt like his life had been spiraling downward on him ever since he had died.
The oddity of that though caused him to smile.
“So now that you are unburdened by those charges, Joe, may I be so candid as to ask what are your plans going forward?”
“I think it's time for me to get out of Duskrug. I don’t mean any offense, sir but I don’t think I belong here.”
“Quite understandable. And wise. Duke Amberwrothe does not take being thwarted kindly. Nothing you have done so far will leave a lasting animosity, but your absence from the land will give time for tempers to cool.”
The Count shook his head slightly before continuing. “You have had an unenviable introduction to the kingdom. I will say not all of the country is as unforgiving as you have witnessed. Unfortunately, Duskrug has always had an acrimonious relationship with the Fey. Whatever heritage you possess is bound to cause you difficulties again as long as you stay within the kingdom’s borders.”
The Count put down the piece of toast he had been holding and brushed clean his fingers on his napkin. He gave Joe a speculative look before he spoke again. “If I may be so bold as to ask, how did you gain such a lineage?”
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“The one you call the One Above gave it to me when he brought me from my world. Even though it caused me all this headache with the Phealians, it also was one of the things that helped us against Sougath. If it was not for my changeling traits I could not have taken your Fell Bane Hunter as my secondary class.”
He had already explained to the others much of how he was able to withstand and eventually defeat Sougath when they had talked the night before in the Mercyeeian temple. The fact Joe had been able to acquire one of the Count’s privileged classes, seemed not to bother the man at all. As a matter of fact, the famous monster-hunter appeared quite pleased by that fact.
“And that is one of the things I wanted to speak with you about. I do feel you have been ill-used by my country. You, though, have comported yourself in an utmost honorable and heroic manner. It is my wish to reward you using your unique gift. You already have one of House Randeau’s more elite classes. I would also like to offer you one of our disciplines as well. These disciplines have been developed by the house’s martial masters to complement that class.”
“Disciplines?” Joe asked.
“Ah, I forget how little time you have had with us. A discipline is neither a skill nor a trait but similar to both. Disciplines are schools of practice that can enhance your use of skills. Martial disciplines for example teach fighting forms and combat strategies and maneuvers. There are artistic disciplines for music, painting, and such. Social disciplines for commerce or politics. Disciplines, like traits, are not bound by your attributes but unlike traits, they have ranks that can be trained up. They are improved through dedicated study and tutelage. Most noble houses have family disciplines that we give to our youths. I am thinking I could do the same for you thanks to the trait afforded to you by your changeling heritage.”
“Thank you. I am honored.”
“The honor is mine, Joe,” the man said, leaning forward in his chair. “I am quite pleased to have gotten to know you. Your deeds against the Night Skinner are worthy of these halls and I plan to tell suitably embellished versions of them all day and likely for weeks to come. This gift is the least I can do to reward you for all the free drinks that are inevitably coming my way,” the hunter stated with a wink.
“But in all earnestness,” he continued, “the city owes you a great gratitude for killing that monster. I would not see that appreciation diminished by politics. I have six disciplines that support the Fell Bane Hunter class,” the count began. “Let me share with you the foundation of one of them.”
He went on to detail the pros and cons of each of the six schools. Each discipline was characterized by a creature that represented the fighting style. For example, the School of the Wyvern focused on flexibility and devastating strikes. The Discipline of the Dragon had numerous versatile attack forms paired with maneuvers designed to dominate the battlefield. The Style of the Sea-Lion referred not to seals but to the mythical beasts with the front half of a great cat and a piscine backend. Valloc stated that this style was well suited for combat on land or in water. The Style of the Sparrowhawk was geared toward quickly assessing strengths and weaknesses and seizing opportunities. The Boar Style was dedicated to charging and overwhelming enemies. Lastly, the Badger School focused on tenacity and turning attacks back against one’s foe.
They talked through the various nuances of each discipline and how they might complement the skills Joe’s already had. They ruled out Badger since Joe’s healing was already a more powerful means of outlasting his enemies than what he would gain from the style’s techniques. Dragon, as cool as it sounded, was also not a great fit for Joe. Joe did not have the presence or foundation to anchor a combat. Wyvern, Sea-Loin, Sparrowhawk, and Boar all would help Joe develop a stronger fighting style. In the end, they both agree it was a coin toss as to which was best. Finally, Joe picked the one that he had the strongest emotional connection to, the Sparrowhawk. Given that Hawking had given him this new life and that the entity appeared to him in the form of a hawk, he let that fact tip the otherwise equally balanced decision.
The Count shared his character scroll with Joe and allowed him to learn the privileged School of the Sparrowhawk.
You have acquired a reserved discipline from the House of Randeau. You may now advance in the Style of the Sparrowhawk.
The nobleman opened a case on a nearby table and dug through the various books he had for the six disciplines until he drew out a particular volume. The leather cover was tooled and dyed to look like hawk feathers.
“Now that you have the basis of the discipline, you can use this to progress further into the school. This manual is just a beginner's tutorial but I have no doubt you will be able to purchase more advanced manuals wherever you end up. The school of the Sparrowhawk is not one of the most common but it is by no means a rare or lost discipline.”
Joe took the book and clasped the man’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough, Valloc, both for this and for helping me through the quest and for defusing much of Azbekt’s insanity. I think I would be in a much worse place today if Gauldus Meend had not placed you on the quest.”
“Again it was my pleasure, young man,” the nobleman replied giving Joe’s hand a tight squeeze. “I shall be most disappointed if you do not keep in touch. One day, when this tension has died down, I would very much hope to see you again. We come back here and swap stories and drink our way into the wee hours.”
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After the two finished their meal, Joe headed off to find Hah’roo. He had a vague idea where the Adventurer’s Guild was. He strolled through the streets, both to enjoy the sights and walk off the large meal. He was just about to ask for directions again when a familiar head of blue hair slipped out of the crowd and approached him.
“I was just coming to find you,” Joe stated.
“Yes, but I had finished my tasks, and when the wind whispered of your arrival I thought I might as well come and meet you. You have cleaned up nicely,” she breathed airly, with a look at his new shirt and groomed appearance.
"Thanks. I couldn’t sleep last night so I got my shopping out of the way early this morning,” he replied with a shrug. “Do you have any plans for the afternoon?”
The galeling glanced away, looking unsettled. She started to say something but her words failed her. Joe waited, giving her space, unsure what was prompting this very unHah’roo-like behavior. Normally she was so cool and composed. Yet for some reason, she seemed to be suddenly flooded by insecurity.
“I don’t really understand it myself,” she finally whispered. “I don’t know why the wind speaks of you to me. I have asked others of my kind if they have heard of you. That was one of the tasks I performed after our battle. No others have. Just me. And to me, the wind says you are zephyr.”
“I don’t know either but it’s ok. I’m not asking you to change your life just because of me. You helped me more than anyone else since I got here, Hah’roo. I am genuinely grateful to you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do even more because of what your spirits are telling you.”
“That is not it, Joe. I want to. To protect a zephyr. That is a task all gales hope one day to be called on to perform. Yet I would do so, only if you wish it.”
Joe almost immediately blurted out how he preferred to be a loner when it dawned on him that he did not feel that way around Hah’roo. She did not crowd him, or make him feel self-conscious. The Gale/Zephyr dynamic was something he’d have to get clearly defined but, from the talks they had already had, he was almost certain there was no ranking involved. Neither was in charge or superior to the other. He could not stand to have a servant or someone who had the right to order him around.
Joe watched her face as he churned these ideas through his head. He could see her becoming more anxious as the moment extended.
“Wanna help me find a good pair of boots? These are falling apart and I want something that will keep my feet dry wherever we end up going.”
“We?” her breathy voice drifted to him.
‘Yeah, we,” he replied, suddenly completely sure of his decision. For the first time in either of his lives, Joe felt like he had found someone he could think of as an actual friend.
“And then what?” she asked, smiling broadly.
Joe turned and looked out over the city as it sloped down to the bay. He saw the sun glinting off the ocean and the seabirds wheeling through the air. The water’s horizon was a dark blue line below the bright blue sky. All of these things called to Joe. They whispered of possibilities now open to him; of far-off lands and unknown wonders. He breathed in a deep breath, feeling the tingle of anticipation climb across his skin.
"Then we’ll take a walk down to the harbor. I'll pick the ships I like the look of and you can tell me about the amazing places they could take us to."
Here ends New Roads, Book 1 of the Illunimaria Series.
Joe and Hah’roo will return in Book 2.