Lithia grabbed the elven youth by the hand, gently dragging him toward the half circle of sculptures. The seven shrines depicted faceless figures holding different items.
“We have no records of the true gods from before their fall, only the seven saints remained. They’ve ascended at the end of their pathways, their spirits becoming the guardians of our realm. Each of them represents a broad path we can follow. Irmeg the Fearless was an orcish son of the wild, a berserker like no other. He represents all the free warriors who wish to change head on to battle.” She pointed at a bulky figure carved in stone.
“Elora the Pious was a human priestess and a healer. Almost every one of us prays to her." Lithia pointed at the statue of a nun with flowers and candles at her feet.
"Belmead Ashmaker or Belmead of the Hammer is the dwarven patron of all who wants to craft arms, armour and other mundane items" She introduced the shortest and the most rugged statue..
"Thallan the Swift is the forest elf guardian of hunters and druids. His wife Naesalla is the sun elf who blesses all who live from the land be they farmers or herbalists." The priestess stopped at a statue that depicted a pair of figuers holding hands.
"Flonus the Ironclad is the armoured giant who watches over our soldiers and law keepers." A statue of a knightly figure stood near the end of the line.
"And last, but not least. The halfblooded elf Avenar Lurieth was the greatest of all mages and alchemists. He’s recorded to be a dark elf, human lovechild that was cast out of a noble family. Once he became the greatest mage of the land, he took his mentor’s family name. Well, they’re the seven saints. Don’t worry, if you don’t know who you want to pray to. Most people pray to more than two saints. Once you’ve made your offerings, they should give you their blessing and you’ll be able to make offerings to them and gain boons if they choose to favour you. Alright, I’ll leave you alone for now. We’ll talk later.” She ended her lengthy explanation before heading back to her duties.
Regis just stood there, lost in his thoughts. He had no idea before that he had to worship dead saints to gain power. Back on Earth, he was just one of the many that had been christened not long after birth. He never really believed, because nothing was ever gained from him talking to some unseen man in the sky. Not to mention that no one gained mystical powers from praying and making offerings at the local church. Such things only worked in books. Now that he got dragged into this dying world however, stuff like this seemed to be a common thing. Regis furrowed his brows as he stared at the faceless statues, but he had nothing to lose. After thinking about it for a few minutes, he walked up to a shrine and took out one of his bronze daggers, placing it in the bowl.
“Irmeg the Fearless. As someone who just fought his first real battle, there’s little I can offer besides that which was taken from the dead,” That staff with its weapon-shift rune worked well for me. I can’t claim to be a brave man, but I won’t willingly offer my neck to my enemies either. I hope that you’ll grant me the courage to strike when the time comes.”
A red flame awakened in the offering bowl, turning the dagger first into ash, then into nothing. His body shivered as a sudden surge of scorching heat flushed over his body. Golden letters burned through the air in front of his vision for a few moments.
{The spirit of Irmeg the Fearless accepted your offering and pledge. You have received the ‘Warrior’s resolve’ feat. Your might and physique got permanently increased by 1, raising your health and stamina by 1. Your faith increased by 1. You have the right to make offerings and pray at any shrine to Irmeg.}
‘Well, that just happened.’ The young man mumbled in disbelief as he stumbled towards the next shrine.
“Avenar; you are the patron of mages,” he placed the scroll of lesser charlatan’s wisdom in the offering bowl. “The world that I come from has barely any magic left, so only a few recordings of it remained behind. Now that I have the chance, I want to wield it as my own and I hope that you’ll let me do so. I speak to you as one half-blood to the other. Help a brother out, will you?"
His words were quiet as a whisper, yet they strangely echoed back from the statue. A flame of myriad colours devoured the scroll of lesser identification in the bowl as golden letters flickered in front of his eyes. Regis felt a wave of heat rushing through him as if every cell in his body was doused in flames. The sensation went as fast as it came, but he knew that something changed in him, fragments of age old wisdom awakening in him.
{The spirit of Avenar accepts your offering and plea. You have awakened the ‘Blood of old’ racial trait. Your erudition, mind and willpower got permanently increased by 1, raising your mana by 1. Your faith increased by 1. You have earned the right to make offerings and pray at any shrine to Avenar.}
‘I guess that's it.’ Regis thought to himself as he turned back towards Norma and the others. Most of the guards were already gone, but Grego and Norma were still waiting for him at the entrance.
“Are you done?” Grego asked. “We should get your gear in order before getting some food. The next night will be tougher. Make sure you’re well prepared, if you want to join us again.”
“Sure,” he nodded as he grabbed his oversized loot bundle. “This is the fastest way to get stronger. I might even make it inlands.”
“We’ll see,” Norma spoke up finally. “I haven’t heard much about that matter, but I know that the main road we came here on is a lost cause. As for the river boats that are being repaired by the lord’s men; I don’t know if they will be used to head inwards or along the shore. Still, if you work hard enough and get to live that long, then Grego might just say a few good words for you.”
“We’ll see,” Grego grumbled. “You should just focus on getting your stuff ready for what’s to come. I’ll leave him in your hands, Norma. Make sure he actually gets to eat something. He needs some meat on those bones if he wants to keep going.”
Stolen story; please report.
The woman nodded in agreement as she grabbed the youth by the hand, dragging him towards the south end of the market. Several smithies puffed with smoke as the sound of hammers filled the market. Apprentices tried to re-cast bronze weapons while their masters hammered away on what seemed to be the sparse few iron blades Hunor still had.
“Can I ask you a question?” Regis turned towards the guardswoman who stopped in her tracks upon hearing his words.
“Go ahead.”
“What exactly is a legacy? Or rather, what is considered a legacy here?”
“A legacy is what its name implies. It’s something you inherit. Legacy stones like the one you’ve found usually have the same purpose. They pass down the beginner form of a few skills along with the necessary knowledge on how to use them. There are many legacies out there and you can accept more than one at the same time. Once accepted, the legacy will slowly become a part of you, but if its owner is killed before fully making it their own, the inheritance will leave the body and anyone can seize it. One can also willingly pass on their legacy when dying.”
“I see.” Regis shifted the weight of the bundle to his other shoulder. “What about the forbidden paths? I know that necromancy is one of them, but what about the other two?”
“Well,” Norma sighed. “The second one is the path of the demonologist, which is a summoner who has demonic creatures under their service. It has been forbidden since the creation of the church to summon and command such creatures. Mainly because one has to make life sacrifices to get the demons summoned and they only eat living creatures.”
“Okay, so demonology is bad. What about the third one?”
“That’s a special case,” She muttered. “It’s actually a type of crafting profession called primordial crucible shaper.”
“Well, that’s a mouthful. What does it do? Creates horrific monsters and plaques?”
“Only, if you know how to do it. It was banned originally because too many people sought to get their hands on its powers. From what I’ve heard, the crucible shapers can create both wonders and horrors. I don’t know how it works, since I’m not a mage, but the crucible can create almost anything you can dream of. Both the Landwaker trees and the Primordial world-roots were created by crucible masters. It was banned, because it allowed in a way, for ordinary people to imitate and wield the power of creation that should have belonged to the gods."
"That sounds quite powerful." Regis nodded as they walked along the market.
"Every kingdom wanted to get their hands on a living crucible shaper because it would have meant power and prosperity for their lands. However, crucible masters died out centuries ago. Only their creations remained and look where those got us. Ecragurne is nothing, but a corpse filled graveyard. As for us; we had to flee from our own homes to here in order to survive, yet the plague followed us even here. Well, that’s how it is, so don’t feel bad about passing up the chance of getting that legacy. It would only get you killed to get a banned path’s inheritance. Alright, you stay here while I ask old Aran if he has time to help us." Norma said to Regis before leaving him alone again.
The young dark elf waited for a few minutes before his eyes drifted towards the part of the market that was filled with rundown buildings and refugees. A worn-out chimney puffed steadily as a tall figure worked in the half collapsed smithy. Regis walked closer and stood behind the pair of ragged men who were looking at the meagre wares placed on the counter. The tall figure turned out to be a black haired woman with a height of seven or so feet, sharpening a bronze short sword for one of her buyers. The other one kept staring at a pair of small hatchets and when she turned her back to them, the man grabbed the weapons and ran away.
“Come back you bastard!” She roared after him as she grabbed the other one who was about to steal a leather helmet.
“Need a hand?” Regis asked, but the woman pointed the newly sharpened sword at his neck.
“Try to help him, or steal something and I’ll gut you!”
“Ease up girl! I've only…”
“Shut it short stack,” the woman growled. “I’ve had it with all of you fucking bastards trying to steal anything that isn’t nailed down. Just because I’m an outlander, that doesn’t make me an easy prey. I’m not going to let you…”
“What's going on here?” A heavy voice asked as Norma showed up from the crowd.
“A guard, finally. I’ve caught these bastards while…”
“I leave you alone for a few minutes and you’re already in trouble,” Norma cut into the young woman’s speech. “So what happened?”
“Two refugees tried to steal from her. One ran away while she managed to grab the other one. I asked her if she needed help, but she pointed her blade at me and started swearing like a salty truck driver.”
“Who are you calling a salty…hold on, you’re an outlander too?” The blacksmith stuttered in surprise as she stared at him.
“Even if I was, it wouldn’t matter much. Now, would you lower your blade?”
The young woman pulled back the sword before knocking the other thief in the head with its grip. She then let Norma grab the refugee as she turned back to Regis.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized. “It’s just that I’ve barely managed to scrounge together a few pieces after spending a hellish night outside the city walls and these bastards are already trying to steal away whatever they can. I’ve thought that you were one of them, so I got a bit…”
“Angsty?” he sniggered. “I can understand that, but do I really look like I need to steal anything?” Regis asked while raising the hefty bundle of loot from the ground.
“No,” she shook her head. “So what are you here for?”
“I was looking for someone who could get my gear fixed. I only have some worn-out armour and damaged weapons, but those won’t cut it next night. I was hoping that that since there were only a few people in line in front of your place…”
“You hoped that I’ll have time to get your stuff in shape? Sure, I can take a look at your weapon, if you have materials and something to pay with. But if you want to get your armour fixed up as well, then you’ll have to ask her.”
“Ask who?” The elven youth looked at her puzzled as the tall woman pointed into the shaded part of the smithy.
“You can come out now Sophie, everything’s okay.” The blacksmith spoke and a small figure walked out from the shadows.
“Hi.” A thin voice greeted Regis as a little girl walked next to the blacksmith.
After taking a better look at her, it became obvious from her pointy ears and lithe figure that she was an elf fledgling like Regis. The obvious difference between them was that her skin was almost as white as snow and her eyes were completely gold coloured beneath her brown hair.
“Are you a sun elf?” He blurted out, earning a wary look as she stepped back a bit.
“I don’t mean anything bad by it. It’s just that this is the first time I see another elf in here. There are mostly humans and a few dwarves in the city from what I can tell.”
“That’s because no elven refugees came to Hunor,” Sophie spoke finally. “They’re not that friendly with humans, so they didn’t come to this port. I’ve only met one other so far.”
“No wonder there aren’t any around. Anyway, can you help me with my armour? It’s not in the best condition and I want to join the guards tonight as well.” He asked as he pulled off most of his armour, only keeping his boots, pants and shirt on.