The College Festival
The college erupted into celebration, welcoming the Nine with a day-long festival. Colorful banners hung from the tall spires, and the sounds of laughter, music, and clinking glasses filled the air. Aethyr, for the first time in weeks, allowed himself to relax. The joy of having his grandfather and the Nine by his side was infectious, and as they sat together, sharing stories and food, the mood felt lighter.
Kodlak regaled them with tales of his early adventures, and Aethyr, eager to listen, shared his own experience in the depths of the dungeon. His wounds still ached, but for the moment, surrounded by family and comrades, the pain was forgotten.
“So, tell me, boy,” Kodlak said between hearty bites of roasted boar, “what’s this I hear about you using Equilibrium? Are you trying to send your poor mother to an early grave?”
Aethyr smiled sheepishly. “It was... necessary. I had no other choice.”
Kodlak grunted. “There’s always a choice. But you did what needed to be done. Just don’t make a habit of it, eh?”
Penelo, sitting nearby, nodded in agreement. “And don’t forget you promised to take better care of yourself,” she added, playfully nudging him.
Kodlak’s hearty laughter echoed through the halls as he embraced his grandson, who had grown into the man he had always hoped for. "My sweet cookie monster, you’ve grown so much! Strong as a mountain," he boomed, his eyes misty but still holding back his emotions.
Aethyr chuckled, playfully nudging his grandfather. "And you’re still calling me that," he said with a warm grin.
Penelo stood nearby, watching the scene unfold with an amused smile. When Aethyr motioned for her to come closer, he said, “Pops, I want you to meet Penelo. She’s a healer mage, a specialist in restoration magic.”
Kodlak’s eyes lit up as he sized up the young woman, a grin spreading across his face. "A healer mage, huh? You’ve caught yourself a good one, haven’t you?" He winked at Penelo, and before Aethyr could even speak, Kodlak added with a loud laugh, "Penelo, huh? I approve! You’ll be restoring me a grandchild one day! Mwahaha!"
Penelo blushed, but she was quick to shoot back with a playful smile, "We’ll see, sir! But for now, I’ll stick to healing your grandson."
Aethyr rubbed the back of his neck, trying to laugh it off. "Pops, come on..."
Kodlak turned his attention to the approaching Phalanx. "Ah! And here they come! My family—the Nine!"
The towering figures approached with an air of authority and camaraderie. Aethyr stepped aside, watching Penelo’s eyes widen as the group neared. Kodlak gestured to each in turn, eager to make introductions.
"Penelo, meet the Nine. These warriors are the best of the best, the Phalanx’s elite. First up, Chornut the Chopper! He’s the finest blacksmith and weapons master you’ll ever meet. Don’t let his gruff appearance fool you—he’s got a soft spot for Aethyr and has been molding him since day one."
Chornut gave a short, respectful nod, his grizzled face hard but his eyes carrying a warmth Penelo could sense. "Tough kid, this one. You’ve got a good man here, lass. Just don’t let him forget the basics," he said with a smirk, casting a glance at Aethyr.
Next was Aela the Huntress. "Aela’s an expert tracker and deadly with a bow. She’s taught Aethyr more about agility and focus than anyone else. She can hunt down anything, anywhere," Kodlak said with pride.
Aela gave a soft smile, bowing her head slightly to Penelo. "He’s quick and smart. Stays on his feet in battle. You should see him in action sometime."
Valiant and Gallant stepped forward together, and Kodlak clapped his hands. "Ah, the twins! Valiant the Ambusher and Gallant the Tank. Valiant’s quick thinking and ambush tactics have saved countless lives. Gallant? Well, nothing gets past him. He’s a living fortress."
The two brothers grinned, each giving Penelo a short salute. "Aethyr's a sharp one," Valiant remarked. "He’s learned a thing or two about strategy from us. Might give us a run for our money one day."
Gallant added with a deep laugh, "If he keeps his guard up like I’ve taught him, that is!"
Armborn, a giant of a man with biceps as thick as tree trunks, gave Penelo a hearty slap on the back that nearly knocked her off balance. "Armborn, the lifter," Kodlak said. "Strong as an ox, and just as stubborn."
Armborn chuckled. "Aethyr can hold his own now, though. Kid’s got strength where it counts, up here," he tapped his temple.
Rya the Chaser came next, a lithe, fast-moving woman with sharp eyes. "Rya’s unmatched in speed and pursuit. Aethyr learned how to chase down his targets from the best," Kodlak said.
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Rya gave a sly smile. "He’s quick, but I’m still faster."
Then there was Njada, the stone-armored warrior, and Hestla, the sharpshooter. "Njada’s arms are as tough as the mountains she hails from," Kodlak explained. "And Hestla’s eyes? Sharp as an eagle’s. She never misses a shot."
Both women gave respectful nods. Njada’s voice was a deep rumble as she said, "He’s resilient, like stone. That’ll serve him well."
Hestla added, "And his aim is true. He’s learned more from me than he lets on."
Finally, Athis, the healer, stepped forward. "Athis here," Kodlak said with pride, "has taught Aethyr a lot about restoration. He’s the only one who could keep up with Penelo here when it comes to healing."
Athis smiled warmly at Penelo. "You’ve got a good student on your hands. I’ve done what I can, but it seems he’s learning more from you now."
Penelo nodded, feeling the weight of the moment, surrounded by these incredible warriors who had all played a part in shaping Aethyr. The festival continued around them, but for this moment, it was all about family—both old and new.
THE ASHMARK GATHERING
The notice came at dawn, summoning the lords and leaders of all regions to the Grand Hall of the college. This momentous meeting had been convened in light of the recent discovery—ancient magical tools and invaluable knowledge from the Ashmark Dungeon—and the young explorer, Aethyr, was now at the heart of the discussion.
Among the attendees were:
1. Kym, ruler of Ashmark, a high elf with an air of arrogance, and his steward, Rundee, a bespectacled man of sharp wit and sharper tongue.
2. Zirkan, ruler of Draugar Keep, accompanied by his son, Zirk.
3. Ravel, ruler of Vyrhall, flanked by his ever-watchful bodyguard.
4. Vargath Broadhorn, ruler of Stormhaven and chieftain of Stormtarge, standing proudly beside the notorious warlock Merodach.
5. Eliziah, the former queen of Lumar, who had a secret—Aethyr was her son, though neither had acknowledged it yet. She sat across from him, her eyes full of sorrow as she fought back tears, her son unaware of the bond that tied them.
Aethyr entered the hall, followed closely by the intimidating figures of the Phalanx, each member casting a protective aura around him. As Aethyr took his seat beside his grandfather, the tension was palpable.
The three great masters of the college—Grandir, Asphyr, and Listan—sat at the head of the meeting. It was Master Grandir who rose to open the discussion.
"Esteemed guests, welcome to our college. We gather today to discuss the reactivation of the Ashmark Dungeon, now that its mysteries have been revealed to us. Through the extraordinary efforts of young Aethyr, we now possess detailed knowledge of the dungeon’s layout, from levels one to twenty-five, and of the ancient mechanisms that lie within, ripe for study."
Before Grandir could continue, Kym, ruler of Ashmark, stood up with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“As the ruler of this territory, it is by my grace that any of you are even permitted to explore the dungeon. But such privileges come with a price! I demand compensation for allowing any research or further exploration of Ashmark’s treasures.”
Murmurs of discontent spread through the hall. Zirkan of Draugar Keep, known for his bluntness, scoffed at Kym.
"What a greedy elf you are, Kym. Have you lost your senses? Aethyr is a hero in my land, and it was by his hand that the dungeon was conquered! You should be paying him, not the other way around."
The two rulers exchanged a cold glare before Ravel of Vyrhall interjected with his deep voice.
"Let us not forget that we are here to discuss knowledge, not greed. If Aethyr has uncovered secrets, then those secrets belong to all who dare to venture into the dungeon. Vyrhall will not tolerate such extortion."
Vargath, ruler of Stormhaven, with his massive frame and booming voice, banged his fist on the table.
“Aye! We didn’t come here to listen to squabbles about coin! We came for answers. If there are ancient powers down there, I want to know what we’re dealing with. And you all should, too. I won’t have Merodach risking his life just so you can line your pockets, Kym.”
The tension only rose as the leaders exchanged heated words, each voice growing louder. The room became thick with distrust, every ruler looking out for their own interests.
Suddenly, Grandir raised his hand, calling for silence. His eyes, burning with authority, swept over the gathered rulers.
"This is not a marketplace, nor is it a battlefield," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "The dungeon’s treasures and knowledge are beyond any one of us. It is our duty to uncover these secrets for the greater good, not for personal gain."
Kym sneered but remained silent, while Zirkan crossed his arms, unwilling to back down. The others watched cautiously, waiting to see how the discussion would unfold.
"Master Sarphin," Grandir continued, turning to the destruction magic master, "what do we know of the artifacts retrieved from the dungeon?"
Sarphin stood, holding up one of Aethyr’s enchanted gloves, scorched and worn. "These tools are ancient, created with magic we’ve yet to fully understand. They could either help us harness incredible power or bring about untold destruction. We must tread carefully."
The weight of Sarphin’s words hung in the air. The rulers shifted in their seats, some in thought, others in thinly veiled greed.
Aethyr, seated quietly, listened to the debates raging around him. Though he was the one who had braved the depths of the dungeon, it seemed his role in this gathering had only just begun.