The voice reverberates in my head once more.
“Tch, you are useless on your own. Take this, it should guide you to the other half” A light emanates from the top of the mace. Suddenly, I feel something. Something far away, as if a line is drawn from my innards towards a faraway destination.
“Al! What are you doing!?” A low voice with some force behind it is directed towards me. It is the teacher assigned to my class. Don’t tell me, he could see it too?
“The recital, do the recital!” Oh right, the pledge. I am in a middle of a ceremony after all.
I quickly regain my senses and put into effect, the plan I concocted in hope of retaining my free will. I hover my hand slightly over the mace, while reciting.
“I, Alepo Skylors, solemnly swear to serve Arkon, the country, my house and the people, in that order, with all my might” I only make the mistake slight, as people would surely oppose it, if it was too obvious. My properly pronounced house name is Skylos.
No light is emitted and no one seems to protest. I almost heave a sigh of relief, but keep my composure and join the other students that have finished the recital. I don’t pay attention anymore. Instead, I focus on this new feeling, something binding me to something else far away.
I wonder what is at the end? The mace mentioned “the other half”. A safe hypothesis would be to think the power of the new Arkon has been split into two, one with me, the other with the person on the other side.
My heart beats wildly at the idea. If I can find this other person and bring them with me, I can step up to the throne. I can push through the reforms I always dreamt of! I can make this world fair! To hell with birthrights, this will usher in a new era!
I feel giddy, excited even! I can barely stop my body from moving, though it is supposed to stand still at this very moment. But I have to think things through.
First, I should probably contact the Vizier of Arkon. He is the head of the pseudo-temple this monument is, and I will probably obtain his support, if I inform him and he believes me. It seems only I can locate the other half, but I would need support, depending on how far away it is. I will have to figure that out.
Secondly, I have a feeling I should tell Pist. He will surely believe me and aid me no matter how outlandish the claim may sound. After all, “I’m the Arkon, but not really” will sound sketchy as hell to anyone, but Pist will surely believe and aid me, no matter what I say.
Lastly, I should avoid going home at all costs. My father and oldest brother are both greedy for power, and I have been a thorn in their side since I was young. Unfortunately, they knew me before I realized the value of how others perceive you, so they are fully aware of my discontent towards the unjust distribution of power and desire for meritocracy. That fact, coupled with their general greedy behavior, and they will be sure to prevent me from seeking out this power. And even if I keep it hidden from them, I doubt they would ever let me have free enough reign to pursue this goal under any cover story I could imagine.
The ceremony has come to an end. The last one of the year has sworn his pledge, and we are about to march out of here. I, however, need to contact the Vizier. He has been overseeing the ceremony from the back of the room, and we will pass close by him, as we leave. I don’t know if I can easily meet him again, so I decide to make contact now, even if it causes a disruption.
I break the neat rank and file we are marching in, to dash over to the Vizier. People, who were around me and the guards are baffled, and many “hey!” and muffled chatters break out through the room, as I take action.
The Vizier himself is looking upon me with questioning eyes. Though I am not a large man, he is even smaller than I, and I direct my eyes slightly down to meet his. He is equipped with simple robes, and the only thing that betrays his status is the staff he is supporting himself by, as it is heavily inspired by the scepter depicted in the statue outside. I have a feeling people will relatively quickly take action to contain me, so I quickly deliver my line in a voice low enough, that I hope only the Vizier can hear.
“The scepter spoke to me.” His eyes slightly widen and he makes a slow, wide hand gesture. His wrinkled face mouths a command.
“I will speak with the young man in private for a moment, the rest will proceed accordingly.” His voice sounds grainy, addled by age. The chatter grows slowly after the command, but between the guards and the teachers, order is quickly restored and the graduates continue moving outside without me.
“Follow me.” The old man says solemnly, turns around and starts walking in a slow tempo. I follow his command. He guides me through a side door in the main room with the mace, through a hallway to a rather modest door close to one of the ends, which he opens and holds for me. I notice a pair of armed guards have followed us the entire way. I accept his invitation and step in.
The room is pretty small, less than 200 square feet. Each wall is covered by bookcases, filled to the brim with books, which is surprising, considering how expensive they are. They also make the room feel even more intimate.
In the middle is a desk, with a large, padded chair behind it, but still simple in design, and two bare, simple chairs in front of the desk. There’s a few oil lamps around, but the sun is still high and the sole window in the back provides ample light.
The Vizier walks around me from behind, slowly towards the chair behind the desk and lowers himself with great care, before speaking up.
“Take a seat” He says. And when I do so, he asks me “What did the Scepter tell you?”
His eyes show a skeptical look, like he isn’t certain that this is a possibility. I briefly consider my words. If I tell the words as they were spoken with me, they seem to be somewhat up to interpretation. I don’t want that; I want his full support. On the other hand, if I embellish it too much, his skepticism will likely deem it false. In the end, I choose to go with my own interpretation.
“The scepter told me I was half of Arkon. It was confused as to why this happened, how I could be only half. It then instilled in me… A new sense. I can feel where the other half is. We need to find whoever it may be!”
He nods slowly along as I speak, but in the end, as soon as I stop talking, he immediately says “Get out” curtly. That’s strange, he is not even giving it a chance?
“Why don’t you believe me?” I ask
“Do you not think we of the monument already know how Archon will reveal himself. When the new Arkon’s hand is laid upon the scepter, it will transform into its true form, and the new Arkon will lift it, which no one else could do.”
“I know the true form! I saw it! It’s a mace!” I rise up of my chair and plant my hands on the desk with that line. The Vizier is taken aback, but whether it is due to my statement or my slightly aggressive action, I do not know.
“So, you’re a con artist who has read a bit of history. Out of my sight!” He is vehemently opposed to me. Why? Does he have that much blind faith that Arkon will appear exactly as was described to him? But I know the scepter itself acknowledged me. Shit!
“You don’t understand, old man! I am telling the truth!” I inadvertently get a little more aggressive due to the frustration, slamming his desk.
“Guards!” The Vizier yells, to which a man immediately opens the door.
“Escort this young trickster off the premises!” The Vizier’s voice is filled with spite. Shit! I try to play to his desires, though I don’t know anything about him yet.
“This is your chance to be the Vizier, who saw the Arkon return! This is your chance to be recorded in history, and you don’t gamble on it at all!?” But it falls on death ears. He merely lowers his eyes as my arm is seized and I am forcefully pulled away, escorted through the hallways, back to the main entrance, and given a slight throw outside, before the large door is closed behind me with a slam.
Shit!
In front of me stands the entire year of the academy, who have seen my recent disgraceful exit. Many derisive tones spring up in the whispers. The one to come and admonish me personally is not a teacher, but rather Fotia.
“What are you doing!? What did you think!? Did you try to cheat them too? To take them for a ride? When will you ever learn, you ingrate!?” She is berating me as usual. But I don’t mind. She is not important any longer, as the time in the academy will come to an end.
“Now join up and try to be decent until the ball is finished!” She tries to command me, but I have other ideas.
“Pist!” I call, and the big man immediately steps forward. “I need you to trust me right now. We have something important to do” He merely nods at my words. How great it is to have him as a comrade.
“AL! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?” Fotia is once again performing her party trick of attempting to match her face’s skin color to her red hair. “THE GRADUATION BALL IS THE LAST EVENT OF YOUR SCHOOL LIFE! YOU WILL ATTEND!”
“We will not” I answer calmly, as I know that will only serve to make her more furious. “As I said, we have something important to do.”
“PIST!” She changes target “Are you really going to waste this once-in-a-lifetime event on that scummy bastard!?”
But Pist, ever faithful, just nods and says “He said it’s more important, so it’s more important”. Careful Pist, I might just kiss you if you continue to be this perfect.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“I, I, Uh! MISTER MATHAS! Are you just going to let this pass!?” She now directs her complaint towards the teacher responsible for our class, but if I know him well, he won’t intervene. His modus operandi has always been to merely perform his job, and let students choose to follow or dissent on their own accord.
“No matter, let us proceed to the Grand Hall.” Mister Mathas coolly dismisses the issue entirely.
The classes are dutifully escorted away from the monument. Fotia’s eyes dart between Pist and I, and the leaving students, before following the latter with a groan.
Alone remains Pist and I. “Okay, first, let’s head to the dormitory. We need to evacuate with everything we own of value and reconvene outside as fast possible.” I naturally issue my orders to Pist, but he seems a little unsure.
“What happened, Al? Why are we doing this?”
Right, I should fill him. I start walking towards the dormitory as we talk.
“When I touched that scepter, you noticed me acting weird, right?”
“Yeah, Al.”
“That was because the scepter talked to me. It informed me I was the new Arkon, well half of it anyway.”
I can see Pist turning his head as I say it and stare at me out of the corner of my eye, but I pay it no attention.
“The… The Arkon??” Pists mouth moves without making noise a little prior to his exclamation.
“Yes, but something went wrong. What makes the Arkon the Arkon has been split in two and I only have half. The scepter did something, and now I feel where that other half is. Though, I don’t know how far, yet”
I only take steady steps, but Pist’s has become uneven, he falls behind before having to run a little to catch up.
“That means both of you get to rule, huh? What’s going to happen if you can’t decide what to do.”
Pist raises a valid point, but I have already decided. I shall get to know this person and work my charm on them, getting them to see everything in the same light as I do, or blindly trust in me, depending on how smart they seem. I can’t very well tell Pist that, though.
“We will merely have to discuss each issue together; it shan’t be any real trouble.” Pist smiles and nods. His belief in me has already painted the future he sees rose-colored. I even have a role in mind for Pist.
“Pist, when I become Arkon, I want you to be my personal bodyguard!” I state loudly, while turning my head to him for once and smiling.
“Oh, Al, that would be great! I don’t have to be pushed around by that brother of mine.”
And so, while missing the largest event of academy life, we both march with a smile on our lips.
When we reach the dormitory, we split up. I inform Pist to go to his room and grab anything that could be worth some money, while I do the same. The dormitory is completely abandoned. The dormitories are split up by year, and according to schedule, tomorrow should be the day everyone leaves for good, followed by a day of cleaning by the staff. The staff itself is absent until then, so we have free reign. I briefly consider I don’t know how many resources we need, thinking about stealing from my classmates, but if any of these crimes should be reported and I would be chased down, it will only serve as setting my future self up for a fall.
I empty my school bag, and start to fill it again. A few pieces of clothes, as noble clothes can go for a pretty dime, a few noble metal accessories and a sword engraved with the crest of my house, that of a large hound. Lastly, I pack my pencil case, protractor, compass and a notebook. Unfortunately, we have already turned in the textbooks. They would have been rather expensive.
I then leave my room, and head outside to wait for Pist. He is not here yet, but I don’t waste time. The dormitory should be 150 feet alongside the longest end, which I proceed to use. I stand at one end and use my protractor, lining it up with the dormitory itself. 103°
I then walk downwards to the other end and use it again, my target being the direction of the feeling tugging on me. 77°
Shit, such results are useless. I need a bigger base to figure out the distance. The length of the academy grounds should be around one and a half miles in length, so I try again. 103° and 77°… Shit, it must be really far away.
“Al, what are you doing?” Pist has come out. He is carrying two full sacks and his backpack, filled to the brim. I am not even going to ask.
“I tried measuring the distance to my target using trigonometry, but it is too far away.”
“That’s the fancy math only you were doing, right?” Trigonometry is not considered necessary in our math courses, that more revolve around taxes, trade and population, but the few students who seemed to be bored were given more to work on, and I was among those.
My measurements cannot give me an answer, as it sums up to 180°. The side of the triangle I am making with the academy grounds is too small, it could be more than a thousand miles away. Shit, can I even get enough supplies for such a journey?
No matter, if we run out midway, I will have Pist work for it. The country of Pikos is always swarming with monsters in the countryside, and the mercenary guilds are always looking for able-bodied men and women to subdue them. He is sturdy and talented with the sword, so if I direct him towards the easier targets, we should make enough to at least keep going without risking his life.
“Is that a problem?” Pist asks me after I went into contemplative silence.
“It is not. We still have what direction we need to go. Our first destination should probably be Anatynoro”
Pist scratches his head a little. “Where’s that again?”
“It’s the city closest to the border with Nothea” Nothea is a neighboring country. I do honestly not know much about them, since information rarely passes over the border, but they are rumored to be a country of strong faith, pledging their lives to some figment of their collective imagination, the people of their country often described as deranged fanatics.
“So far away, huh?” Pist is correct. They say the road to Anatynoro is a thousand miles in length, though I am not sure. Maps do simply not exist on that scale.
“Fear not, Pist. We now embark on a journey to forge a new, better life for the both of us. It might be hard at times, but listen to me and we shall make it through without risking much.” My little impromptu speech clearly rouses Pist, as he starts moving on the spot.
“First stop, the shop of curiosities!”
I lead Pist to the glorified pawn shop, located a little bit from the central plaza in the capital. I stumbled upon it during a date with one of my many conquests. It contained all manner of trinkets, many of them clearly showing previous noble ownership, judging by the crests present, so I hope to make a pretty sum there.
I guide Pist through the streets, before we break off the main road, taking a slightly narrower one, mostly leading to a residential area. And here we find it. The signboard depicts a horseshoe, with the round part turned up, contrary to public convention that claims depicting a horseshoe this way signifies bad luck, whilst the letters spell “Edgar’s Curios and Memorabilia”
We enter the store, sounding a small bell attached to the door, before we can get a proper look. Counters and shelves filled with all manner of random stuff. Jewelry like rings, necklaces and brooches. Silver hairbrushes, ebony combs. Small figurines, clothes both with vibrant and faded colors, daggers, swords and axes. One could probably spend an hour just naming all the various things on display.
I walk up to the counter where there is no one. Strange, they should have heard the bell, right? I remember the last time I was here, an old lady manned the counter. A little time passes while Pist and I wait in silence.
I clear my throat and oust a somewhat loud “Excuse me?” Towards the rooms back of the counter, but silence sets in again. I was about to shout for real, but then a door leading to a room in the back creaks, and forth steps a young man.
He is sloppily dressed and his hair is a mess. Acne and small, single hairs dot his face and serves to provide a rather distasteful picture of the young man.
“Can I help you?” He asks us without assuming any special position. He simply stands, arms sloppily hanging down, neck bent over.
“It is my understanding you purchase various goods of interest here, correct?”
“Ah, that’s right” he says unenthusiastically, barely moving.
“I would like to liquidate the assets I have brought with me here today” I say, and empty my backpack for the wares I judged to be of value. He looks over them, still barely moving a muscle, only his eyes travelling over the objects I produced from my backpack. After a little while he says “7 gold 40 silver”.
This is a bit low, according to my own personal estimates. I might not have a good idea of what all of this is worth, since most of it was provided directly by my house, but it seems low, since this amount would only seem equivalent to exchanging it for a single set of the used clothes on offer here.
“My good man, are you trying to insult me, clearly this is worth at least 15 gold?” I try to maneuver the price upwards but.
“7 gold 40 silver” he says again, not giving me anything to work off of, standing still.
“Well, then I will have to take my business elsewhere.” I try to deny him any profit he may gain from this but.
“Okay, bye!” He is completely fine with it! I don’t know anywhere else I could turn this assortment of goods into cash. Shit. I surrender.
“Fine, give me the damn 7 gold and 40 silver”
He cracks a small smile, as he turns to open up a safe behind him. 7 gold coins and 4 much larger silver coins are produced, which I promptly put into my backpack.
“Next, go on, Pist” Pist proceeds to empty his sacks and backpack. Multiple weapons and tons of clothes are put forth, though few of them seem to have any value.
“Wait, Pist, hold on to this, we might need it.” I sold my weapons because they were noble weapons. Filled with decorations and poorly balanced, their purpose not being combat, but ornamental in nature. One of the weapons Pist put forth, on the other hand, seems to be a well-tempered sword.
“Oh, okay, Al” he says as he accepts his own sword back from my hands. The clerk once again peruses the goods laid upon the counter. This time takes a while longer, before he utters “4 gold 80 silver”. We just accept, knowing the defeat from the last attempt to haggle. I can’t wait to get out of here, and away from this unsettling, barely moving man.
Now, with our load lightened and a fair sum of money to our name, we need to secure transport. In other words, our next destination is the merchant’s guild. They arrange caravans, moving goods around the country. If one was to travel, they usually either have their own security detail, or arrange themselves to sponge off that of merchants. While the cities rarely see any monsters, the roads between cities can often be infested by them.
And so I move towards our destination with a somewhat swift gait. Pist follows me without even questioning why we are heading in a particular direction.
I do not know where the merchant guild branch in the capital is, but asking a few passersby, we quickly manage to get our route sorted. It appears to be situated just behind the monument to Arkon, which is in the central plaza.
When we enter, there’s a fair few lines, of which we line up in the shortest one. They move slowly, and we can hear a manner of talks taking place at the front. Stuff like, securing permits to sell, asking about shipments will be coming in when, price checks on certain goods, whether permission is needed to smelt down old armor, wanting to sell a quota for fishing, stuff like that.
I had hoped we could listen in on another requiring passage, so that we may use their conversation as a reference, but unluckily, no such conversation takes place.
When it is our turn, I step up and speak “Excuse me, we require passage to Anatynoro. When does it leave and how much is it to join?”
“Do you require seating or will you merely follow?” The receptionist asks. I don’t know how much it takes to march in pace with a caravan, but I do know that Pist is a prime specimen, and that my own physical prowess is lacking.
“One of each, please” She looks slightly confused at the answer and turns to look at Pist. When he notices her stare, he simply nods. He probably thinks I know everything and have it all figured out.
“That’ll be 4 gold for the seat, 50 silver for permission to follow. The caravan is scheduled for its weekly trip in two days. You will meet at the caravan spot.” That’s rather pricy. I think about downgrading myself to follow too, but I don’t know if Pist can carry me for the duration of the trip.
As I ruffle through my backpack, I can’t help but ask. “Caravan spot? What is that?” A sigh is heard from the woman behind the counter.
“The caravans heading east, do so after meeting up and packing outside of town. If you exit the commoner’s gate to the east, you will see it straight away. It is right next to the stables. Remember, they leave by dawn the day after tomorrow”.
“Thank you very much.” I pay the 4 gold and 50 silver, and in return, I receive two slips of leather, each denoting our permission to be with the caravan, alongside intricate patterns embedded into them. I wonder how they are made? Burning? Scraping?
No matter, our next issue should be finding a place to stay.