"The next dawn"

1

It has been over 2 years now since the Heroes of Routhen stormed Ozeron Palace and dealt with Kieran Steros, the maniacal tyrant that terrorized the land with armies of monsters, demons, and other night creatures, declaring war on the world and every living thing on its surface. Steros motives - and just how he managed to achieve such power and control over these creatures, remain unknown to this day. It is known, however, that he desired more power, to rule over Routhen, a reign of fear and enslavement.

The Heroes did not leave unscathed, though. During the battle, their leader, the Holy Knight Bellemora, gave her life to defend Arnsgar. Her Shield was broken into three pieces. Her actions encouraged the other Heroes, and with renewed strength, inspired by their friend’s sacrifice, they finally managed to defeat the Evil that had plagued the continent with war and death for so long.

As a last act upon his demise, Steros sent out a wave of Dark energy, a Shadow that befell over the whole of Ozeron and the neighboring lands. In the explosion, many cities and villages were destroyed, and the Palace in Ozeron became but a ruin, a pile of crumbling stone and metal. The Heroes barely managed to get out alive, carrying with them only the Warhammer wielded by their best, the symbol of everything Bellemora fought for, and eventually gave her life to protect.

In the aftermath of the final battle, a great wasteland extended from Ozeon, for miles and miles, in all directions. Everything was either dead or dying rapidly, the land was sterile and the animals and citizens that survived, became horrendously deformed and twisted, giving birth to a nightmare of fear. Not only that, all the demons and creatures Steros had summoned were now free, unbound by their master’s will, and roamed the land unchecked. All of his armies, humans or monsters, were now on their own, free to spread fear and death across the whole of Routhen as they wish.

With the Divine Council defunct after the explosion that killed the majority of its members, the acting ruling body agreed to unite the land under a single banner, and have a strong hand to help rebuild Routhen. For this reason, Arnsgar was appointed Emperor of Routhen, and all the Kingdoms that previously answered to the Council. His first act as Emperor was to move the capital of the Empire from Pearhollow to Steelpoint, his hometown, and began funding mercenary groups to help hunt down and kill leftover creatures across the territory, and defend cities near the immediate area of the event that would later become known as the Schism, the explosion of energy that engulfed the land in Shadow and death, triggered by the defeat of Steros. An ex-mercenary himself, Arnsgar focused much of the resources available to him on military fronts, be it the production of weapons and armor, the development of new weaponry, and the fortification of defenses in Empire territory.

But not everyone was happy with the decision. That Arnsgar was a Hero, and saved the world, was undisputed. Many, however, doubted his ability to rule properly, with long-term vision and planning. Groups voiced their displeasure with the immediate measures taken, and little by little these groups gained strength, and soon whole kingdoms were now voicing their discontentment against the Empire and vowing to leave the organization altogether. Some of them in fact did leave and became Independent Estates without much effort from the Empire to keep them in their ranks. After all, the world had just gone through a war with the forces of Evil; what good a fight between themselves would do now? And little by little, the Empire a little became less than it was before.

One of the first groups to break off with the Empire was the Elves of Asirandell. Occupying a great portion of the southwest of the continent, lands filled with vivid and vibrant forests, a piece of nature so in harmony with the mortal races, the place was closed off to everyone that was not of Elvish descendancy or had not been invited by one of its members. This movement started when Manthea returned from the final battle and assumed the mantle of leader of Asirandell and the Elves that considered it home. A summon was made to every Elf on Routhen that was born or had lived in Asirandell before, asking them to return, if they so wish. No one but their most close friends and lovers were allowed to follow them in the region. And so, month after month, they became more and more recluse, going as far as setting up magical barriers on its borders, to make sure no one would be able to enter without their consent.

This movent, this inward migration of the Elves, practically excluded the region from the rest of Routhen, by not allowing anyone to have access to its territory. The last point of contact of the recluse Elves with the rest of the world was the city of Atherus, on the northern borders of Asirandell. Being the closest open place to Asirandell, Atherus quickly began to grow in size and interest from the rest of Routhen, especially those seeking knowledge and information regarding arcane magic, artifacts, and nature. Soon, the place became a meeting point for spellcasters and magisters alike, adventurers in search of a magic item, or a scholar looking for more information on a powerful spell. The Magistrate, the organization that regulates and oversees all the magic operations on Routhen, moved its headquarters to Atherus and months later open its own Magic Academy. Being independent of the Empire, the Magistrate was well-welcomed into Atherus, which was itself part of the Asirandell territory, and an Independent Estate as well.

After a few public appearances, specifically regarding the closing of the borders to Asirandell, the new role of Atherus in Routhen, and their partnership with the Magistrate, Manthea was not seen anymore by the general public. She delegates most of the diplomatic work to a small group of people she trusts and has resumed being an adventurer or going on missions herself. Word has she lives in a palace in the heart of Asirandell, surrounded by lakes and trees and flowers and plants, and barely leaves the place. She is the Leader of the Elves of Asirandell.

And the last of the Heroes of Routhen, the Dark Elf Thres, was seen together with the rest of the group at the funeral ceremony held in name of Bellemora, a few weeks after the final battle. Witnesses claim he barely stayed together with the other three and didn’t share one conversation with the other Heroes. Some mentioned hearing the Heroes arguing, ahead of Thres leaving the temple, before the end of the rituals. Bellemora Warhammer is now being used as a headstone, in the center of a Temple of Baldr, her Patreon. This was the last time Thres was seen, be it with the group, or by himself. Being an expert Assassin as he was, it’s very likely that he still walks the streets of the major cities in Routhen, but is able to remain unseen and undiscovered from prying eyes. Rumor has it he had a falling out with the rest of the group and decided to avoid society as a whole now, living only off what he does best: hunting and walking in the shadows.

As for Bellemora herself, her name is now part of dozens of poems and songs sung in taverns all around Routhen, hymns are chanted in her name at some temples, and some Dwarfs even pray to her before going into battle or after a good day at the forge. Her sacrifice was felt by everyone on Routhen, Human and Elf alike, Halfling or Gnome. The Dwarfs speak of her with pride, and the Orcs envy such fate, to die defending their friends, and their family. To give her life to save the world. That’s her legacy, and for that, she will never be forgotten and will be forever praised.

2

Lorna closed the small notebook she was reading and leaned back on her chair, sighing loudly. She still could not believe what she had just read. It was her third time reading it. The words in that notebook made no sense to her, and yet it filled her with…. a strange feeling. Was it hope? Despair, maybe? Of course, she understood the sentences, after all, it was written in the Common language, but it didn't make sense to her, she could not fathom what it truly meant. Well, actually, what it meant was that her life may have been a lie for most of the two decades since she was born. Everything she knew may not be true. The worst part, the part that made her hands sweaty - a cold sweat, and her knees weak, was the possibility that she didn't really know her parents, at all. The thought sent a sharp pain to her stomach and she twisted her lips. If she couldn't trust what she knew - what she thought she knew, about her parents, how could she trust anything else in the world?!

Her thoughts were brought back to reality when she heard the knock on the door. Taking the opportunity to keep the thought out of her mind, she placed the notebook aside, covering it with a sheet of paper, to keep it just out of sight. She stood up, and walked to the door, reaching it just in time to hear the second knock, and a voice coming from the other side of it.

“Lorna, dear, are you there? I have some news for you, darling!”

The woman seemed to get startled when Lorna opened the door so suddenly after she called her but then smiled, seeing the face of the girl.

“News? Good news, at least, Mrs. Landburry?”

Lorna asked, trying to get in the mood for the conversation with her neighbor, Alda Landburry, a woman a few years over middle age, wife of a well-known baker in the area. After Lorna’s parents disappeared, Mrs. Landburry helped raise the girl as best as she could, proving clothes and food, and most of all, attention and a shoulder to cry on, whenever the young girl needed it. She wasn’t a second mother, after all, Lorna had always been quite independent and managed well by herself, and she was certainly the closest thing to family she had. And she was deeply grateful for it.

“Why surely it’s good news. When have I brought you bad words, girl?!”

Smiling, Lorna invited Mrs. Landburry in, closing the door after the woman entered the small, one-room, house. Lorna glanced over the desk, making sure the notebook was hidden, and reached for the chair, offering the seat to her guest.

“Water? Tea?”

She offered, walking towards the sink to get a glass.

“No, thank you, dear. I shouldn’t be long. I have cookies to bake before Jermy returns for the day.”

The girl nodded, leaving the glass behind as she walked back to Mrs. Landburry, sitting beside her.

“So, tell me. Good news, huh? I could use some good news…”

This time, it was the woman who smiled and began to deliver her message.

“Well, it’s not actually any news, more of a suggestion, really. Have you heard about the new tavern that opened on Third Street? They recently bought some bread from Jermy and mentioned they are hiring new staff. It’s been busier than they thought it would be, so they need extra waits and cooks, even.”

It was clear where she was going with it, and Lorna understood her goodwill. She let her finish before saying anything.

“I figured, why not try to land a job there, girl? The place is nice, the people are kind, and if it doesn’t work, well, you tried.”

The money her parents left her was not infinite, and Lorna knew that. She was certainly not a spender, but then again, she needed to eat, pay the bills, and buy and repair stuff. It was all okay so far, but she knew it wouldn’t be like this forever.

“You are not wrong, you know, Mrs. Landburry. Having a routine might actually do me some good.”

Happy with the girl’s response, Mrs. Landburry continues to spill her mind.

“It’s a great opportunity to meet new people, and maybe even build up some new skills!”

Lorna laughed at her last comment, imagining herself juggling bottles to pour a drink, on the counter.

“Yeah, my cooking does need improving, hahah.”

This time, it was Mrs. Landburry that laughed, nodding slightly. Lorna continued.

“I will check it out, sure. Thanks for the advice, Mrs. Landburry. It was good news indeed.”

With the message given, Mrs. Landburry stood up, pleased with Lorna’s reaction, and ready to return home. Standing at the door, she thanked the girl for inviting her in.

“I’ll make sure to ask Jermy to put in good word for you, Lorna. Good luck!”

Thanking the woman for her help, Lorna bowed lightly.

“Thanks for all the help, Mrs. Landburry! I’ll make sure not to waste this chance!”

And with the woman gone, Lorna closed the door behind her and sighed. She closed her eyes and thought about her future.

So far, for the past year, all she did was study and focus on her craft. She read dozens of books, practiced a lot, and tried to improve her skills. All of that working to free herself from the mourning of losing her parents and trying to adjust to living all by herself from now on.

The thought of a job now was actually quite pleasing to her - if not straight-up scary. Having people depending on her - and her depending on others, might be just what she needed to ‘return to society’ after all this time.

She smiled, thinking about all the possibilities. And then gazed over the desk, and sighed once again, a short sigh this time. Her smile faded.

3

When Lorna left her house this morning, she knew it would be a busy day.

She had two objectives that day. First, and most importantly, she needed to gather more information on a few things she discovered while reading a few more pages of the notebook she found hidden under a loose piece of stone in her parent's bedroom.

On and off, she’s been reading this notebook since then. And every page amazed her more and more. But it wasn’t that good feeling you get when discovering something new and wonderful about something you thought would never surprise you again. It had a bitter taste in her mouth, and she dreaded what the next line would reveal, for every word was like a stab at her, dissolving the happy memories she had about her parents.

That’s why she needed to know more. She needed to understand what it was all about. If this notebook was going to destroy everything she believed in about her parents, then so be it. She’d rather know the truth than keep living in that lie. So when a few names and locations began to pop up more than just once or twice, that was the perfect lead to start following, trying to understand what it all meant for real.

The second objective was harder, at least for her: going to that job interview at the new tavern her neighbor told her about, almost a week ago.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to go. On the contrary, she was pretty excited when first thinking about it. But when the excitement wore off, all she could think of was that she wasn’t ready for it. She wasn’t ready to take that much responsibility, she wouldn’t do well on the job, be it cooking, cleaning, or serving drinks, hell, even if it was to just stand there and smile, she would absolutely fail. Hard. And that made her very nervous.

However, she did give Mrs. Landburry her word, and Mr. Landburry had even written her a ‘recommendation letter’. They were so kind and truly wanted what was best for Lorna. She would probably disappoint everyone at her new job - if she even got it, but she couldn’t disappoint Mrs. and Mr. Landburry. No, not this way. She would go there, do the interview, talk to the person in charge, and fail at every possible opportunity at the job, like the grown woman she was!

But first things first. The investigation.

The name ‘Goldfrey’ and a resale shop known as ‘Pedigree’ came up a few times, often connected to each other. So after a few hours, of looking for it and asking around where she thought this shop might be located, she finally found it!

Now, it was not the first time Lorna had done this. But it didn’t mean she was any better at it. A few days earlier, she located the place ‘Gunk Junk’, a machine shop, but wasn’t able to make any more connections with what she knew from the notebook, or discover anything regarding it. Two days prior to that, she discovered that Graham Lamatrè was the name of a member of the Divine Council, one of the many dead when the Mana Bomb exploded their tower. But not much more than that…

At the other side of the counter on Pedigree was a young Gnome, dressed in what seemed to be the uniform of the store. He put up a happy smile when Lorna came in. She did not. Placing her hands on the piece of wood that divided the two, she went direct to the point.

“I’m here to see Goldfrey.”

Her expression remain serious, as the smiling man waited a few seconds, before tilting his head a bit and answering, his smile now in a mix of confusion.

“I-I’m sorry, who? Who is Goldfrey, miss?”

The way his smile fixed made him look like an idiot, and that made Lorna angry. She pressed on.

“Look, I’m not here to play, I don’t have time for this. I need to speak to Goldfrey, and I need to do it now! Do you understand, mister?”

The smile faded now, and he bit his lower lip. He looked confused still, but now with a mix of fear, maybe. He seemed nervous.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend you, or..- Look, I don’t know who Goldfrey, okay? He doesn’t work here, and he’s not a recurring customer either.”

Keeping up with her act, Lorna closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply, as if trying to stop herself from punching the little man. In reality, she was gaining time, letting the man simmer in his own thoughts and fears, and trying to come up with the next hit.

“This is ‘Pedigree’, is it not? I know Goldfrey doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and what I have for him is of the utmost importance for his….. business. So you either tell me where he is, or you’ll have to face not me, but him.”

The young clerk was almost crying by then, while Lorna tried her best to keep a straight face. He stuttered a little, before managing to answer the girl properly.

“I am so confused right now! I feel like I should know this Goldfrey, and I’m really messing up by not telling you what you want to know. But I swear, in the name of the Gods, may They take my soul and that of my mother, I can’t think of a thing named Goldfrey right now, and I’m so, so sorry about that, ma’am! I’m really sorry, I really am!”

Keeping a stern look on her face, Lorna stared intently deep into the man’s eyes for a few more seconds. It was only when she heard the doorbell behind her that she dropped the act. Someone was coming into the store, so she had to act normal.

“Well then, I must be in the wrong place. Nevermind it then, mate. Sorry to bother you about it! Cheers!”

She said, mirthfully, smiling and almost giggling, before turning away and walking back to the door, without giving the Gnome a chance to reply, or even process what was happening. She looked back once, beyond the green shirt of the tall Elf that had entered the store, past the counter, to the Gnome, only to see him with a deeply confused expression on his blushing face, as if the whole world turned out to be fake right in front on him.

Holding a laugh in her throat, Lorna managed to close the door behind her before it escaped her mouth, and for a moment there, she had forgotten all the tension she was on for the past weeks. She laughed loudly, pacing fast away from the shop ‘Pedrigree’. She didn’t get the information she wanted, but she sure had fun.

And now, for the second part. The interview.

The new tavern was certainly new. There were no mead stains on the floor, the place didn’t smell like cheap wine and sweat, and none of the chairs squeaked and seemed about to break apart. It was a pleasant place, all in all. ‘The Masked Turtle’ was its name.

When Lorna walked in through the door, the place was not open yet. Two people - a Human girl and a Dwarf man, were swiping the floor of the great hall. The chairs were all atop the tables, and the curtains were closed. On the opposite side of the door, she could see the kitchen, empty at this time, with huge pans placed on top of what she could only guess, were the stoves. On the counter, a small bird sat beside some cups and mugs. It was yellow, with a few strips of feather on a light-brown color, and it looked around frequently, from one side to another. And it was from this counter that, a few seconds after entering the place and a few uncertain steps toward it, Lorna heard a voice, calling for her.

“You there, girl. We are not open yet.”

She hesitated, stopping where she was. Looking around, she couldn’t see anyone besides those two. As for them, they kept sweeping, having spent less than a second looking at Lorna, when she first came in.

“M-my name is Lorna. I’m here for an interview. Mrs. Landburry sent me…?”

She was not sure that was the case entirely, but it was the best she could come up with, replying to that disembodied voice.

“Oh, right! The Crawford girl. Come on in, come on in. Take the stairs to the right. Meet me in my office, yes?”

On the right side of the back of the main hall, stairs opened the path to the second floor. Lorna quickened her pace and, glancing at the counter and the bird once again, took the stairs up. The woodwork there was new, and the tiles hardly made a sound under her steps. This upper floor consisted of what seemed to be three rooms. Lorna could see three doors, no signs on them, but only one of them was ajar. She slowly approached the door and peeked inside.

A woman with long dark hair, grayish-red skin, and two short horns on her head, was sitting at a fancy desk. She had her head down, reading some papers in front of her, a feather pen in one of her hands. She seemed to be wearing a suit, dark gray with black lines. Without rasing her head, she said.

“Are you going to come in, or spend the rest of the day admiring my presence?”

It was clearly a joke, but there was no humor in her voice. She had a serious tone, and it was the same voice Lorna heard downstairs, talking to her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you, Miss….”

When the girl entered the office and sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk, the woman put the pen down and looked directly at Lorna. Her eyes were black, with a single golden ring in each, for the pupil. She was a TIEFLING, a Human born with Infernal features and traits, from dormant genes of generations past. TIEFLINGS were different from Half-Demons, that much Lorna knew, so despite the first strong impression, she was afraid or suspicious, just surprised.

“Rocheveron. Lady Rocheveron. But you can call me just Rocheveron, or Roche, for short. Please to meet you, Lorna Crawford.”

The Lady Rocheveron smiled, revealing her long and pointed canines. Lorna forced herself to look elsewhere and focused on her eyes. That’s the polite thing to do.

“The pleasure is mine, Lady Rocheveron. Erm, Roche.”

Picking up her pen, Roche pulled a blank paper from a stack to her right and began writing on it, occasionally looking at Lorna, while they spoke.

“So, Jermy Landburry, the Baker, recommended this job to you, am I correct?”

When Lorna spoke this time, she was more confident, more energetic, and determined to make things work!

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“Yes! He and his wife, Alda Landburry, are my neighbors, and very close friends. Here, I have this letter, from them.”

She raised her hand, offering the folded piece of paper inside the envelope to Roche. The paper where the letter was written was of cheap quality, compared to the ones on Roche’s desk. The Landburrys were not rich merchants, after all. Just very good ones.

Roche opened the letter and her eyes danced rapidly upon the paper as she read it.

“He spoke well of you, child. In fact, he believes in you so much, the threatened to stop selling me those delicious pieces of bread if I didn’t hire you for this job.”

Lorna's eyes widened and her heart started to beat faster. It caught her by surprise, and she had no idea if she was joking or telling the truth.

“What?! No! Please, don’t take that into consideration! I know I may be out of my depth here, so don’t feel obliged to hire me or anything. I’ll make sure to talk to Mr. Landburry about it!”

A small smile appeared on one side of Roche’s mouth, as she waved her hand, telling Lorna to not think about it. That was probably a joke, then.

“But tell me, what are your qualifications? Do you cook? Do you have experience serving tables, or bartending? Have you ever worked directly with people?”

Breathing deeply, trying to keep her calm, Lorna began to think. She wilted a bit, coming to the realization she had no experience at all with this. This was a waste of time, after all.

“No, I don’t have any experience, in any of this. I cook only for myself, and it’s usually far from a good meal. I actually never had to work before, my parents-…”

Lorna stopped herself there. She was going to say her parents were traveling merchants - that’s what she told everyone in her life for the past 20 years. That’s what she knew, that was her absolute truth. However, this truth was shattered weeks ago, when Lorna found that notebook, with names and places she never heard of. She still didn’t get it all, she was not sure exactly what it meant. But one thing was for sure: they were not just simple traveling merchants, and they had been lying to her for her entire life.

She had to force herself to calm down before she started to hyperventilate, so she closed her eyes, and came back to the present, to the interview with Lady Rocheveron.

“I used to live with my parents, before they died. It was a little over a year ago. Look, I’m sorry, I don’t want to waste your time here anymore. I should just–”

Reaching out for Lorna, Roche placed a hand on her arm, in an attempt to calm the girl down. Lorna, who was about to get up and leave, relaxed a bit and paid attention to the woman on the other side of the desk.

“It’s okay Ms. Crawford. You don’t have to know everything from the start. But you got to start somewhere. And if you have the will to go beyond, then go beyond.”

Roche’s smile now was recomforting. Lorna shyly smiled back, easing herself back on the chair. She didn’t answer Roche, though. She just nodded. So the other woman continued.

“Why don’t we start by seeing where you can best fit in our operation? What do you say, Lorna? You start on Monday.”

4

They had been walking for 5 hours now, and at the end of the horizon, the Sun began to sink behind the far away mountains of the Dawn Throne. Khaen wasn’t tired yet, but the knew Garthas would likely make a stop as soon as the last ray of light disappeared from the sky.

It was like a ritual to Garthas. Every day, or almost everyday, if the situation allowed for that, they would stop their walk right at sundown, going only as far as the next closest minimally suitable location to rest for the night - an opening in a forest, a cave, a dune to shield themselves from the sandstorms… Then, the Dragonkin would remove the heavy parts of his armor, and pray. On these last few weeks Khaen had been joining Garthas in his post-twilight prayers. He didn’t want to admit, but that had made him sleep better, most nights.

But before they would set up their bedrolls and sleep, they would eat. While setting up their tents, a fire would be lit, and they both would sit around it, cook whatever meal they managed to find the day prior or saved from the last hunt, and have the best dinner they could manage, together.

Garthas wasn’t one to speak a lot. He had much to say, but normally not through words. When he did speak, it was usually something far too wise for the young mind of the Half-Elf to even understand, most of the time. But Khaen enjoyed Garthas company, and at these quiet moments, tried his best to start a conversation or get his opinion on something that happened in the last few days or so. But Garthas would only reply in small sentences, seeming tired or discouraged. Maybe that’s why Khaen insisted on talking to him then. He hated to see his friend sad.

Mornings were different, though. It seemed the Templar’s mood was at its best at dawn, and at breakfasts he was at his most cheerful and talkative spirit. They tried to have a strong breakfast, to keep them going through the day, and as they ate, they would set plans and goals for the day ahead. Garthas shone brighter with the sun above his head.

Today it was nothing different. The sun went down, and the pair went on for a few minutes until they found a grove not too far away. They also found a small lake, which meant that the next town was near.

Setting up tent some meters from the lake, as not to spook any wild animal there to have a drink, they lit their small fire, and began preparing their dinner.

“We’ll reach a town tomorrow, before the Sun sets.” Garthas said, serious, stirring the pot full of rabbit stew.

“Ah, a nice bed and a shower, finally!” rejoiced Khaen, and continued. “And a real meal, too.”

He looked at his friend cooking on the fire, trying to gauge his reaction to that last sentence, but Garthas didn1t even seem to have noticed the young one poking fun at him. Instead, he brought up something else entirely.

“And then, after that, is Pearlhollow. It’s a big city, so we won’t be staying long there.”

That awakened something inside the Half-Elf, something he had at the corner of his mind for a long time but didn’t really think about it until recently.

“Why not, Sir?” he first said, defiantly.

Garthas stopped stirring, and look at Khaen. The silence hanged heavy. But before Garthas could say anything, Khaen continued.

“It’s been over a year, Sir. I’m sure there’s no one else after us. I mean, there was a huge was and all!”

By the fire, it was easy to see the disappointment in Garthas face. He sighed.

“You underestimate how far people will go for Power and Greed, Khaen.” he finally said, with a somber voice.

“We’re not even sure if they still exist, Garthas! For all we know, the Cult of the Sun is all but wiped out from the face of existence!”

As the spellcaster seemed to get more and more excited over the new thoughts on his head, the other one went the opposite way.

“For all we know, they grew in influence during the war, providing assistence to the armies, as are now part of the Empire, or allied with some large Mercenary Army, with eyes and ears everywhere, still desperately searching for their Golden Goose, The One That Got Away, the Deserter who would bring them closer to God!”

Every word went a little higher than the previous, and by the end of his point, Garthas was almost screaming at Khaen. He sighed again, this time disappointed in himself. And now with a calmer tone, completed.

“What I mean is, until we know for sure, we cannot assume we are safe. We could be dead the following morning.”

A long time of silence followed, while Garthas finished preparing the stew, and Khaen set up the small wooden bowls and spoons they would use to eat that night.

“I just… I don’t feel like we are living, you know?All we do is go from one place to the other, without actually doing anything. We don’t give anything good to anyone, and we don’t get anything from anywhere.”

This time, Khaen seemed heavy-hearted. Garthas didn’t reply. Instead, he poured stew into a bowl and handed over to his protegè. Then filled a second one for himself.

It was Khaen again that broke the silence.

“Is it really worth it, living like this?”

Once again, Garthas did not answer. And that was the last time they touched upon this subject this night. With the tense atmosphere, there was even less conversation than usual, and the pair went to sleep earlier that evening.

Despite having prayed beside Garthas in the name of Apollyon, Khaen had trouble sleeping. It was certainly the new ideas that took roots on his thoughts, an uneasiness, like something as amiss.

He tossed and turned, until the adrenaline lowered, and he eventually succumbed to fatigue.

That night, he had a dream.

“Khaen was alone. He was standing in the middle of a yard, an unlit hall of some sort. On the far side, there was a throne, covered in shadows. It was hard to see any details, under that deep darkness, but there was a sleek figure sat on the throne. Suddenly, the Sun began to rise behind them, as if a new day was beginning anew. When the Sun was at its peak, shining so bright, Khaen could see it was actually a Shield, imbued with Divine Light. He raised his hand to touch it, and at the exact same moment he felt the warmth of the Holy Magic of the Shield on himself, a metallic hand reach out for him, pulling him back into the Shadows.”

He woke up with a gasp. When he first opened his eyes, Khaen was not sure if he was still dreaming, for the Sun had yet to rise, and it was still dark inside his tent. He blinked once, then twice. The Dream already vanishing from his memory.

When he turned to the other side and covered himself better, he had barely any recollection of the images he had just seen. Closing his eyes, he drifted off again, falling asleep right after. There were no more dreams that night.

The morning came, and when Khaen woke up, he didn’t remember anything about the Dream he had. He was just sure he had a ‘weird dream’, and that he didn’t sleep that well.

“Here, come, son. Let’s have a good breakfast and forget all about it. It’s a new day. We have all the possibilities ahead of us.”

As expected, Garthas’s mood was much better now. That made Khaen smile, so he shook off that feeling and joined the Dragonkin in their meal. Today, it was bread, fruits, and cider.

As soon as they finished their meal, the tents were up, the tools stored away, and they were back on the road.

“This next town we are getting close, do you know anything about it?”

Asked Khaen, trying to find a way to say what he really wanted.

“Not much, no. They weren’t around when I came to these parts last. All I know is that it’s a small town, a village. Perfectly suited for us to recover our energies.”

The older one replied. He may not know everything - even if he surely knew a lot, but even then, his words were resolute, as if he was prepared for everything. And he probably was.

“Ah, I see.”

Finished Khaen, and didn’t say anything else, even though he wanted to bring up the point of ‘donig something and being useful’ once again. But he figured it was not the best time. This conversation would have to wait. He needed a lot more to sway the Templar to at least listen to him on this regard. And he was not wrong.

5

The city of Pearlhollow was once the Capital of the Empire, during the times of peace, before Kieran Steros, and before the Schism. It was also the Seat of Power for the Empire, where the Divine Council held its meetings and assembly.

When the Council was decimated, and the great majority of their members killed in the Mana Bomb Incident, the Empire lost its Leadership, and Pearlhollow was left in disarray. A once thriving city, full of cultural encounters, diversity, and opportunities, was now a target full of civilians that needed protection but just had their protector suffer a major blow. There were heavy casualties, so most of the merchants and travelers left the city for a more secure place, somewhere far from the frontlines where the battles were being fought.

And so Pearlhollow became a huge city, full of empty space. Only those who lived in the city and had nowhere else to go stayed. Some mercenary groups took over the guard's place and protected the people of the city, but also demanded a high price.

When it became clear there were no threats to the city, and the local governing bodies claimed power once again, most of the mercenaries left, while others became part of the new official guard. Order was restored, but there was always fear hanging in the air. And that hopelessness all around.

For this, one group took the opportunity to sink their claws even deeper into the city’s politics and influence: the Thieves’ Guild, formerly Assassin’s Guild. With the promise to ‘play fair’ and not break (all) the laws, they were allowed to keep doing business in the city, even if their services were largely reduced to accommodate the more ‘civilized’ lifestyle they were trying to bring to the city.

Now, over a year after the end of the Schism, the tug-of-war for power in Pearlhollow continues, with people dissatisfied with the new Emperor, the Thieves’ Guild stronger than ever, and the city guard trying to protect the people of the city to the best of their abilities.

When Garthas Arwynax and Khaen Mehrnia stepped through the city gates into Pearlhollow they had no idea where they were getting into.

On the outside, for the regular traveler merchant or passer-by, Pearlhollow was starting to get back to its former glory. The streets were the busiest they had been for over a year, and the colour was starting to appear everywhere in the city. Of course, with the Capital moved to Steelpoint by the new Emperor, Pearlhollow was never going to be what it once was, but seeing it like this, brought joy to the hearts of those who knew the city back then.

The first step of the newcomers in the city was the Tavern, as usual. They were tired from being on the road for so long, and even if they had spent a night in a real Inn with a real bed four or five days ago, the fatigue began to pile up and it became harder and harder to wash it off.

This Tavern seemed brand new - no stained tiles on the floor, no broken window glasses. And kind of empty. Garthas had felt something the moment he entered the city, but kept quiet, for the boy’s sake. But now, going into this Tavern, he couldn’t help it and, almost without noticing it, mumbled.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“What was it, Garthas? Sorry, I couldn’t hear it…”

Khaen asked, being pulled from his amazement at the place, and the city as a whole. They had been to cities as big before. Drakaia, Riçë, and even Westcross. But none of them compared to the majestic views of Pearlhollow, even in its current state.

Dismissing any extra comment, and honestly relieved he didn’t hear it, Garthas made his way to a table. Sitting on a chair, Khaen followed the older man, still excited. They had laid out their plans in the morning: reach Pearlhollow, have a good meal, get a comfortable bed, and sleep for the rest of the day. It was late afternoon, but they could really use the extra hours to relax. Then, on the next day, they would discuss their next steps. Garthas was also tired of running away, going aimlessly from one place to the next, but he knew he had a duty - to keep the boy safe, so he wouldn’t mind doing it for the rest of his life. Khaen on the other hand had too much of a life to live. And seeing Pearlhollow made him even more determined to make the Templar change his mind. He just didn’t know what he wanted to do, in case they really stopped running. Settle down and buy a house? Join an itinerary troupe of musicians? Maybe join the Artisan’s Guild? He had no idea. But that was a topic for tomorrow. Today, all he wanted to do was eat a hot meal, with meat and vegetables and spices and a really good taste. He wanted to try Ale as well if Garthas allowed. Maybe wine too, if he was feeling bold. It was still sunny outside, so he had a good chance Garthas was still in a good mood.

The place was not crowded. Actually, it was quite the opposite. Apart from the table where Khaen and Garthas sat, there were another two, three at most, groups in the main hall of the Tavern. And yet, it took a long time for the waitress to come and take their orders.

And when she arrived, she seemed wholly uninterested.

“So, what is it gonna be, gents?”

The young woman with dark long hair looked at them with a bored expression. On her shoulder, a dirty dishcloth. A voice came from behind the counter, all the way from the kitchen.

“Lorna, treat our customers well! You were late again today, so at least be kind, will ye!”

The girl sighed, closing her eyes. Then she opened them, she made her best effort to at least sound friendly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my second week here. How can I help you, fine gentlemen?”

And smiled.

While Garthas didn’t seem to care for all of that, Khaen smiled back and laughed a little, amused by the exchange. It was the Dragonkin that ordered.

“Two complete hot meals, with extra meat, please.”

“And to drink?”

Khaen looked at Garthas, inquisitive. Garthas knew what he meant with that look.

“Two mugs of ale, and a gallon of water.”

“Coming right up!”

Khaen cheered silently as the girl left to get their orders done. This time it was Garthas that smiled, lightly.

They didn’t know it, but Lorna was late that day because she had once again gone after some clues she pieced together from her parent’s notes. This time, it was a person. And she had their full name: Ilirieth Salbane. Without much to go on, she tried to find something around places she had been before - the Gunk Junk, Pedigree, The Wise Leaf… But so far, nothing. She would have to go a little farther.

So she started going into each and every store and shop and market and even houses, asking for this Ilirieth Salbane. It was a long shot, sure, but it was all she could do. She was starting to get more and more frustrated with the situation. She had been trying to find something for weeks now, and nothing conclusive had come her way. She was desperate, she needed something to keep her faith. And almost as she began considering giving up, a group of teenage boys ignited the flames of hope in her heart.

“Isn’t ‘Salbane’ the name of that new girl in school, that came earlier this year?” said one.

“The one who always arrives right on time and disappears as soon as the class is dismissed?” replied the other.

“Yeah, and they say someone saw her being escorted out the back door a few times. Like she’s someone important, you know” finished a third.

That was enough to bring new light to the girl's face. She was smiling widely as she asked the name of the school and the place. Maybe she could go there and try to find something about this Salbane student. But when she realized what time it was, she decided to leave it for another day, with more planning. She was, after all, late for work, again. She knew she was going to be scolded. So when she arrived, all sweaty and tired, she didn’t mind being reprimanded. And during that whole day, nothing else could bring her down. All she could think of was finding the Salbane girl and discovering who Ilirieth was. Was it her? One of her parents? A close or a distant family member? That’s why she seemed aloof most of the time, that day, even as she took orders from customers.

Happily for that, none of those two seemed to care.

“This place seems new. I bet their food is still good. It’s common knowledge that the older the place, the worse the food.”

The older man said as if that was the most certain truth in all reality.

“Then we’re in luck today. I bet their rooms are also really comfortable, with brand-new beds and all!”

Wondered the younger one, and then looked around the place. It was nothing as he had imagined, nor as Garthas had told him in one of his countless stories about his adventures. So he questioned.

“But isn’t it a little bit empty? Shouldn’t the floor be bustling with people, talking and singing and drinking and fighting…?”

“Maybe because it’s early yet. And it’s the middle of the week. Folks got to work, you know.”

And as Garthas was trying to decipher the mystery of the empty tavern, a trio of men walked in and sat at a far table, on the most empty part of the tavern. They seemed like workers from around the city. A tall Elf wearing a green shirt, a Tabaxi with an off-white blouse, and a Halfling in brown jumpers.

It took 20 or 30 minutes for their plates to be delivered, but it was worth it! A hearty bowl of venison, gravy, and root vegetables, served with mashed potatoes and thick-cut toast! The ale was also excellent, though Khaen didn’t like it very much. Garthas himself had had much worse, so he was satisfied.

“I know it tastes great, but eat slowly. Savor every bite. And it helps not to get a stomach ache. We’re not used to these kinds of food anymore.”

Khaen nodded, as he had his mouth full at that moment, and slowed down his chewing.

Lorna walked past them, delivering the water, and went on to the trio’s table, to deliver their drinks. She was placing one of them on the table (and almost let the other two fall off her hands) when one of the men grabbed her arm.

“You don’t really seem to listen, do you, girl? I thought we said to stop snooping around, or things would get messy.”, he said, with a raspy and menacing voice.

“It’s going to be trouble.” Garthas immediately said, even though he was not even looking at that table.

On the other hand, Khaen was absorbed in his food, so it took him a while to notice anything. But as soon as he heard Garthas, he knew exactly what he was talking about.

The Elf in green jumped at Lorna, dagger in hand. Lorna pulled herself free from the Tabaxi’s grasp and, using one of the mugs on the table deflected the Elf’s attack, and backed away. The Halfling pulled a short sword from his back and circled the table.

“Why isn’t anyone doing anything!?” practically screamed Khaen, as he watched the scene unfold, his food all but forgotten. All around, the few people inside the room had taken their distance, and watched, but had no intention of doing anything.

When the Halfling got behind Lorna and was ready to strike her, Garthas was already there. He grabbed the man and threw him aside, body one way, sword the other. The Tabaxi pulled a hand crossbow from under the table and, leaning on the back of his chair, took aim and fired. The bolt went way off target. She was too close, harder to hit. The first man, the Elf, drew another dagger and attacked Lorna again.

This time was Khaen who was already in place. Chanting a few words in a language the girl did not recognize, the boy cast a protective spell on Lorna, and a barrier of Light materialized in front of her, repelling the man’s weapon.

“Don’t worry, I got you, Miss. But why are these people attacking you!? And why is no one trying to stop them?!”

He asked, as he touched her shoulder, to direct the spell.

“They’re from the Thieves’ Guild. I bet someone hired them to kill me.”

And she spoke as if it was something so ordinary it made Khaen confused for a moment there.

“Wait, people can actually do that?” He asked, dumbfounded.

“What are you, Twelve?” Lorna rolled her eyes.

“Uhn, Seventeen, actually.”, Khaen replied.

The waitress raised an eyebrow but quickly forgot about it, as a second strike hit the Light Barrier. By now, she had already rolled the used dishcloth around her hand and was ready to fight.

“Common folk don’t usually like to mess around with the Guild.” She answers the previous question.

This time, it was Garthas who answered.

“We’re not ‘common folk’.” He said, as he walked towards the man with the crossbow and hit him with his heavy iron gauntlet, in a straight punch. “And we do mess around.”

“Well, so do I!” declared Lorna as she leaped towards the Elf punching him in the face, and another one on the stomach, then pushing him back with the sole of her foot.

The Halfling crawled back to his sword, only to be blocked by Khaen, who kicked him in the jaw, knocking him out.

“The Court will never let you live, Lorna Crawford.” the Elf said, helping the Halfling get up. The Tabaxi, now from a proper distance, raised the crossbow again and shot. His aim was perfect this time, and it would have hit Lorna right in the chest. However, Garthas was ready and placed himself in the way of the projectile. The bolt hit his heavy armor and scratched it.

“The ‘what’? Who the hell are you talking about?!” Lorna asked but was cut short by Garthas.

“Quickly, get out of here! I’ll stall them as much as I can!”

“Come on, let’s go!” Said Khaen, pulling the girl, who knew her only chance at survival was running. And so they left through the backdoor of the Tavern. On their way through the kitchen, Lorna caught a glimpse of a scared Moita - her boss, hiding under a table, and smiled at the situation.

“Now you’ll face the might of Garthas, Templar of Apollyon!” shouted the Dragonkin, pulling the Warhammer from his back.

Instead of facing the Templar head-on, both the Elf and the Tabaxi fled back through the front door, to chase after Lorna. Garthas was left to deal with the Halfling, who didn’t let him go after the others, at first.

Decided to put an end to this as fast as possible, Garthas struck first. He was well aware that he couldn’t use his full strength, or he would break the Halfling in two, so the Templar held back and swung the Warhammer in his direction twice. The other man was nimble and managed to dodge both attacks, sliding to the side, and attempting to pierce through Garthas’s armor, unsuccessfully. The blade of the short sword hit the metal once, and that was it.

Trying to improvise, Garthas raised his leg and kicked the Halfling. It was a weak blow, but enough to make the Assassin back away. The Dragonkin turned to face the man once again and squeezed the handle of his weapon. It wasn’t going to be as easy as Garthas thought it would.

A few blocks from there, Lorna and Khaen ran through narrow alleys and almost-hidden passageways on the back of the streets, getting as far from the Tavern as possible.

“How did you get involved with such people, again?” asked Khaen, trying to initiate a conversation.

“My parents. I’m investigating them. It seems someone doesn’t want me to find out the truth about my parents.” replied Lorna.

“Ah, ‘parents’. Love them or leave them, can’t hate them.”

“Can’t I?” snarled the girl.

“Really? What did they do to invoke such ire from their daughter? They certainly can’t as bad as my parents, I tell you!” continued Khaen.

“Shush, pretty boy. I’m trying to escape for my life here. This is a story for another time.”

Nodding, the Spellcaster blushed but didn’t say another word, and followed Lorna turning another corner.

They had been running and turning corners for 10 minutes or so by then, and they reached a long alley. This narrow passage, between two tall buildings that blocked all direct sunlight, stretched for over 100 meters. By then, they were already tired and out of breath, so they slowed down their pace. But before they were even halfway through the alley, a bolt passed buzzing too close to their heads for their own good. They didn’t have to look back from where they came to know that the Tabaxi was there, preparing another bolt on his crossbow. So they picked up their pace and started running again, as fast as they could.

Nearing the end of the alley, a tall shadow turned from the corner and directly into their path. The Elf in green stood there, triumphantly, both daggers in hand, looking at the pair as they tried to halt their dash and back away. Behind them, the Tabaxi walked towards them, taking aim.

“Do you have any of those tricks left, mage?” whispered Lorna to Khaen.

“Not for this situation, no, sorry. And technically, I’m not a mage. I don’-- you know what, never mind.” to boy replied, trying to think how he could save them with the spells he had prepared and memorized for the day. He wasn’t expecting to be brought into a battle in his first hours in the new city.

“Well then, I guess we'll go down. Let’s just not make it that easy for them, aye?” the girl puffed her chest, and clenched her fists, ready to take one of them down with her.

“You will leave them alone, uncouth filth!” a deep voice thundered from above, as a shadow approached.

With a pair of wings made of fire, Garthas soared the air above the alley, striking fear into the hearts of the assailants, and then flew down to stand side-by-side with Khaen and Lorna, mesmerizing the assassins with his fiery arrival.

“Holy Sun, Garthas! I didn’t know you could fly!” praised his protegè, excited to see a new trick from an old friend.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me, kiddo. I save my best for dire situations.” the Dragonkin replied.

“And this is definitely a dire situation.” concluded Lorna.

As the trio prepared to restart the combat, the Tabaxi was joined by a limping Halfling on one end of the alley, and the Elf in green imposingly at the other, another loud voice was heard, this time from the other side of the alley.

“Halt! This is the Pearlhollow Guard. Do not move! I repeat, do not move!”

From behind the Tabaxi and the Halfling, a new duo could be seen. One of them was a man with heavy armor and a helmet hiding almost all of his face but the bushy mustache, in a style characteristic of the city guard, but much more ornate - implying a higher rank or status. But one couldn’t help but have its attention drawn to the other man - with a golden and silver full plate, armor shining like a star, broad shoulders, and heavy gauntlets, no helmet, allowing his short blonde hair to be flowing with the wind that was blowing in that passageway, and a smile on his face. He didn’t say anything, but his presence was almost overwhelming.

“Guards, advance!” ordered the first one, the Captain of the City Guard.

And immediately, dozens of guards appeared from the corners, some even from the top of the buildings on both sides. Wielding lances, they closed in seized the weapons the assassins were carrying, and made Garthas stow his own. It seemed they were saved. Or arrested.