With the silhouette’s location memorized, Zolton sailed for some more time, about a half hour, before light from the island grew near enough to become visible. Upon closer observation, the island was significantly larger than both Auxuth and Karo - livelier too. There were numerous, large docks made of a reddish brown-pigmented wood and appeared newly built. About a dozen. Even during the night, many were walking it, chatting, even fishing. Orange light emitting from the lanterns along the docks gave a cozy, serene feel. Upon docking his ship alongside both the smallest rowboats to the grandest frigates, a young lady waited. She wore a baker boy hat, but her long brown hair was hanging free down the shoulders of her gray V-neck. “How’s it going, mister? I don’t recognize your face,” She greeted him.
Zolton nearly sized her up before catching himself. He took a brief breath. “What’s up?”
The woman smiled gleefully. “You’re a kind one, aren’t you? I am just fine! Welcome to the retreat from it all, Fayeign of Valtrice! I’m Mayor Tapolian of Fayeign, working to make this place at least a little bit of a paradise for anyone.”
“Well, I’m not important,” Zolton ridiculed, jumping off the boat onto the dock, surprising Mayor Tapolian a fair bit. “No need to know me. Got a bounty board?”
The mayor looked up to him, confused a bit but she still managed to return the welcoming grin to her face. “I’m sorry to hear that your self-esteem is low… but there are two boards at the bar right there. They’re on the other side, though. Maybe you can get something to eat and drink there, relax a bit, Big Man!”
Zolton scowled at her for a moment. “The hell you say?”
She analyzed him, eyeing him up and down. “You said you weren’t important. I certainly don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t have importance! You shouldn’t think so lowly of yourself! All that leads to is a person rejecting their hygiene! Look at you! Your clothes are all battered and torn, your hair is a mess, your face is all dirty! Come on now, you have to live better than this!”
Zolton’s scowl reduced into that of bewilderment. Mayor Tapolian’s grin couldn’t stay on any longer and it vanished into a sympathetic frown and shake of the head. She reached into her pocket and handed over three small white gems. “Here, take them. These are just some gemstones found around… here. One is worth roughly a thousand galleons. You can probably rent a place tonight and take care of yourself for a few weeks on this.”
“You belittlin’ me? I have my own damn money.”
“I’m giving you a way to feed and house yourself, at least for now. Just helping someone who seems to need it. Unless you want me to change my mind.”
Zolton’s confused scowl shifted to realization. “I’m… I apologize. Forgive… that. I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I'm just not used to this.”
Mayor Tapolian brought her grin back. “Oh, worry about it none! I know the seas can be a stressful thing to live in, which is why Fayeign exists! A little exit from it all. Go on now, you’re not enjoying yourself, unlike the rest of us!”
The heart of Fayeign was overwhelmed with life for night hours. Cold, brittle echoes on the yellow pavement would be quickly cannibalised by the younger ones birthed from the outsoles of other steps. But ultimately, the chatter was the most overwhelming noise. He moved north a bit, away from the large bar which sat alongside the docks, to the street where the apartments were. Just across the street was a tailor. I should probably go there next… he thought, eyeing his raggedy clothing.
The apartment front desk was fairly small, yet cozy. Each step on the wooden floor caused it to creek in varying pitches as if it didn’t know whether it should be stressed or not. A fireplace burned weakly in the corner as an old man snored at the front table, slumped in his chair. With a few taps on the table, the elder woke up slowly, returning his glasses to his face. He stared at Zolton for a moment, squinting. “How’s it going big fella? I’m going to assume the obvious and say that you’re looking for somewhere to sleep?”
Zolton nodded twice. “How much is it, mister?”
“I don’t wanna be a total stranger,” the old man yawned and stretched, “Call me Hank. And that price depends. How long do you intend to stay? Room size, too.”
“Well that, too, depends. Is there much trouble in this place? Fayeign, is it?”
Hank became skeptical, pausing for a moment. He hesitated to answer. “N-no… not much in Fayeign. Why do you ask? Is this to pay for the room? I can cut the price, it's fine, sir. You look like you’re… not in a good spot right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve been in some shit for a little bit, you can keep your thoughts in your own busin-” Zolton unclenched his fists and took a breath. “I am just looking for a room, Hank. I don’t need your pit-- whelp. I just need a single room. I can pay for it. Sorry for blowing up on you… I feel like I’m going to be saying that a lot tonight. Name’s Zolton.”
Hank stood from his chair and reached an arm to Zolton’s shoulder, patting it. “It’s alright big fella, er, Zolton. I should know better than to poke at a man’s pride… didn’t mean it. I apologize, but you do look battered. I won’t dig into your business, but here… hold on.”
Hank went into a small wooden room behind his desk and came out with a very large gray button-up, black pants with little material put into them, and an orange colored block with many cracks. “Never thought these oversized things would ever find use, but here you go. Sweatpants aren’t my style anyways… I’ll only charge you five hundred galleons for the room.”
Zolton gratefully accepted the handovers and traded over the pay. Hank pointed out the front door, disorderly. “There’s a river or waterfall somewhere down there by a small outpost, make sure you go to that one if you're washing up… You can use that soap there. If you’re insecure, you best go at night. Not many people are fans of cold bathing water. Just for when you get back, your room is the third on the left.”
The river wasn’t too far. Matter of fact, Fayeign could be seen from it, although it was a little bit distant. Instead of using the slow drift of the river, Zolton simply charged his magic. When dry enough, he fitted the clothing Hank gifted him. These don’t look all that bad on me. Maybe I just make them look good. Before he left, Zolton noticed a small Grand Navy outpost a fair bit away near the other end of the woods. It had a small tower, walls, and the top of the cell could be made out from the numerous bars just being visible. Hank didn't say it was those bastards' outpost. Horrendo-
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Zolton's skin began to crawl as he felt a harrowing weight pressing on him. He didn’t know what it was, but it did manage to spook him a fair bit. With the encouragement of goosebumps, he took his very hasty leave without looking back.
Back at his apartment, he stared at the ceiling with extended breaks in between blinking as he laid on the bed - with his legs hanging off it enough for his feet to sit flat on the wooden floor. I’m so damn tired… yet I can’t sleep. Not sure why… maybe it's why I felt that way near the woods. Or maybe it's karma for starting shit with good people today…they were just who were just trying to help me out. Guess that’s what happens when Balton’s your father… I hope he’s doing well. I hear his voice utter my words when I think sometimes… maybe I should’ve gone to see him one more time before I just took off to bury Justean with Valin… Hell, I should’ve gone back afterwards… What the hell am I doing? He’s probably right about this just being a far-fetched fuckin’ fable of mine… I’m already moving forward, though. I have to keep going at this point… even if I haven’t made any progress yet. Would Zaltanya want me to quit on my goal? Well, probably, if she knew it could risk killing her kid… or worse.
The burning candle soon died and the room submitted to darkness. That is, until the sun gloated about itself with a shine into the window and beaming onto Zolton's eyes. He woke up with a grimace. Why do you always choose to get me up like this? Wait… what time is it? The sun rises from the east… that window is open to the west… how long was I out? I best go check out that board, maybe get something from that bar while I’m there.
Zolton got up to his feet and eyed the window for a moment. He went over to it and peeked out to find Fayeign a lot less active than it was the night before. As he passed two rooms after his leading to the descending stairs, obnoxious snoring vibrated the door to his right. He shook his head and chuckled, continuing on his way. Got a goddamn bear in there? Guess I’m not the only one that slept in.
The streets were pretty sparse. Only one or two people were walking about, but they headed to the docks. The sky had not yet entered its yawning orange yet but it was getting there. Zolton eyed around with this opportunity of peace. Looks alright now, but oddly it looked beautiful at night… Guess it won’t matter, I have things to do. Matter of fact, there are the boards right there.
At the outer west side of the bar, there sat three bounty boards as Mayor Tapolian informed. Zolton was puzzled a bit. He did not recall Mayor Tapolian mentioning three boards. In fact, he remembered her stating two specifically. There was a large, bold bounty board in between two others. Despite this, the other two seem to have had more hands on them. The first one appeared to experience the most attention. It was titled, “Valtrice’s Most Wanted,” with a fair amount of faces on it, although some were missing names. Remnants of parchment remained at the center of the board, as if torn off.
The second board, the boldest one, was titled, “All-Sea’s Most Infamous,” and held those with the highest bounties on it. All names and portraits were printed far more boldly. The highest bounties belonged to The Storm, King Blassadahl, and C. Manodon. Each had “Dead Or Alive” beneath their portraits and rewards of 253,000,000 Galleons - 650,000,000 Galleons - and 95,000,000 Galleons respectively.
1. Manodon appeared to be a broad, bull of a man. His right eye had a scar across it and seemed sunken, leaving him with only his left. Blassadahl appeared carefree with some deep orange sunglasses on. He had very dark brown hair and what appeared to be a yellow and white striped collar that went just a bit up his neck. He had a mighty smile for his portrait; cheesing for the picture. And last, was The Storm. The Storm’s picture was not a portrait at all. Instead, it was simply a deep blue casting circle with a very, very faint indigo lightning bolt symbol at the center.
Those are some fat numbers right there. From the looks of it, Val was probably right about this Blassadahl guy. He really does have a punchable face, but he must be dangerous to have the highest bounty in the seas... The C. Manodon guy doesn’t seem like all that. Look’s ugly as hell, seems to be the only thing he has going for him. Not sure what’s up with ‘The Storm.’ Is the dude invisible or some shit? Well… I shouldn’t worry about them right now. Maybe I can help with the criminals on this island.
Zolton turned to the Valtrice wanted board and chose a burly man with a naked scalp. Roger Hull - 5,000 Galleons. Decent start. I should check with people inside the bar, see if they know his whereabouts.
The doors swung open, and repeated doing so a few times. There were maybe three people dispersed amongst the tables, two along the bartender’s serving line. Most had their drinks in quaint silence, others chatted. Zolton made his way to the bartender, an older woman with her storm cloud hair tied up and fitting in a diner apron. “Whatcha gettin’?” she asked.
“I need some information,” responded coldly, “Know where a Roger Hull may be lurking?”
The bartender chucked mockingly. “That crazy coot? God knows, sugar. Probably in the wilderness of the woods throwing his poop at squirrels. Why? You trying to get some quick cash too?”
“Trying to help your asses out.”
“Calm it, sugar. Just lookin’ out for ya. Them woods are dangerous. There’s some evil spirit in there that’s been taking people, and making others go mad.”
“You talking about some sort of urban legend?”
“This ain’t no urban legend, sugar,” the bartender shook her head, “No, no. A couple of us have seen it walking around the woods at night. Sometimes it even sits along the outskirts of the forest, just... watching. It ain’t very busy right now. I can give you a bit of history if you care to listen… We can talk about it over a drink if you’d like. You don’t seem to be the alcohol type, but I still got somethin’ for ya. I can give you a Cloudconut Airpple Mix. Thirty-five galleons.”
“You know how to push your sales don't ya?” Zolton rolled his eyes, sliding over the galleons to the bartender, “What you got for me?”
“Pleasure doing busy with ya,” she smirked, “A few years ago, I say maybe four, rumors about a Black Spirit roaming those woods arose. For about a week it was just that until one night it came into Valtrice tore the place up. Mayor Tapolian sent a letter to the Grand Navy outpost not too far away and they sent three soldiers to come and take care of it. Unfortunately when they wandered in there, they didn't come out .
Some bold people in our town decided to take matters into their own hands and mob into the woods. For once, we got a bit of closure... although it wasn't good. Most of their bodies were found overrun with bulging black veins and their skin was cloud white… It was a horrendous, nightmarish sight. Roger Hull was part of that group, but he managed to survive in them woods for four years. Why would he stay there instead of coming home? Because that wasn’t Roger no more. Don’t know how he survived being in there for four years, but there he be… threw away a good life as a farmer, now an aimless animal. And unfortunately, he ain't the only one. Much of that board suffered his same fate.
Instead of learning our lesson and just staying away, four magic wielders marched in there with stupidity they mistook for bravery driving their legs. They went in during the night when the Black Spirit was seen dashing along the outskirts. Wind, Fire, Earth and Light users I believe. They chased it into its domain and a devilish cackle soon struck us with immense terror. After that, though, it kind of stopped showing up… But I know it isn’t gone. Everytime a poster of it is put on the bounty board, it’s ripped off. All we would have is a black box to show for what it is… which ain’t really all that helpful. Regardless, it don’t like that too much.”
Zolton was shaken some, but he disregarded his little fright. “So the Grand Navy ain’t send in some people greater than little soldiers to find out what the hell’s goin’ on in there?”
“Well they have, you see. They sent in a captain and her squad to search, but they ain’t find a thing. Well, they did find Roger and the navy soldiers sent in before. Roger got away, but they managed to capture the soldiers who were foaming at the mouth and extremely violent. But something so damn vile happened to them… the soldiers just up and turned int-”
A loud boom from the swinging doors startled the little patrons of the bar. A large golden shoe on an extended leg stayed stretched out for a moment before lowering down to ground level and moving in. A tall guy stood before them all, with his hands resting in the pockets of his white pants. He wore a large white cloak with golden shoulder pads. He had a smirk on his face and orange sunglasses resting on his forehead. He checked for all eyes and shouted his words for all to hear, “What's going on drunk sons of bitches!?”