It’s been three days since Reegar departed from the village. His feet have taken him across the land, following the unpaved road.
He set up camp as the sky lost its azure color and slowly it turned red and finally black as night greeted the land. Light of the campfire reflects on his armor and helmet, creating shadows around its shapes and dents. He quietly sips on the hot cocoa, with dried meat and bread as his dinner.
He pulled out his pouch and poured the contents out. Silver and gold coins rested on the ground.
The gold coins are heptagonal with the obverse reading “Lycia” and “Rugum.” Engravings of a royal griffin adorn the back of the coins. This winged lion-eagle hybrid is the symbol of the League.
The silver coins are rectangular with a similar obverse as the gold coins except for the word rugum. Here, they stamp it with the word Temne, which is an old dwarvish word meaning barter. Coins showcase a dwarf riding a bear with a helmet. An old dwarven legend about a dwarven king riding an armored bear into battle.
He realized he is worth two rugum and four temne.
“Well, at least I can rub two temne to my name,” he sighed, and he looked up to the heavens.
Far above, the light of the twins illuminated the sky. Purnama glows with its glimmering silver with her viridian sister, Lunaria, partially hiding behind her. They said the twin moons acted as eyes for Selune, Goddess of the Night and Dreams, where she kept watch, providing guidance for travelers and sailors at night. And give dreams to those who slept beneath her glow. Or something along those lines.
Almost cloudless, stars dotted the night sky as his eyes lingered. Although a paladin of Kuzunoha, the Goddess of Travel and Luck, he lacked knowledge of constellations and astrology. He only knows two things about the night sky. The ocean of stars is the hunting ground for Sol-Amaran, The Great Wyrm of Dawn and Lunadella, the Great Wyrm of Dusk. The sight of Daelzana’s Gate, the brightest star in the night sky, assured him where the north was.
He shivers for a moment as icy winds blew in his direction. Embers from the flame fluttered around him and his eyes traced their movement, fluttering about before disappearing. He has no interest in or knowledge of poetic references to embers on wintry nights.
Reegar pulled his rug-blanket and noticed several holes in it. With a sigh, he wrapped himself. His eyes continue watching the flame. He can feel the heat but not the warmth.
Fall is ending, and winter is coming. Or he’s just lonely.
Unwilling to move, he used his sword to pull his bag closer and took out a map.
The map has some scribbles and notes attached to it with the words Lycia League written as the title. It’s a very rough and general map of the league, pointing to several other notable locations around the league. The cities, the Silver Route, the inland trading route linking the Kingdom of Mes in the west to the Obren Republic to the east. South lies Storvak Sea, north holds Great Grassland and Blue Mountains.
He stares at the map for a while and remembers buying it from a merchant near the Mes border, adding a few notes of anything interesting he saw, exploring the frontiers.
Sitting cross-legged in front of the map, Reegar used the stars and other notable landmarks he passed. He pressed his finger on the map, pointing at a city symbol. Stormpoint. A major city in the league. Five to six days of trekking.
If I took a few jobs, I can expect a roof and bed for the whole winter. And food. Delicious, well-prepared, salivating city food. And no longer chewing roots and hunting rabbits.
The next morning he sets out, following the map. He noticed a high number of caravans using the road. A company of well-armed guards guarded the larger ones. Some are in matching uniforms, others are clearly adventuring parties. Some nodded at him, others gave him a wide berth.
On the second day, he continued along the trail until open fields greeted him. Cattles graze on the open meadows. One can observe several shepherds either leading them or sleeping under a tree. Few of them noticed a single armored man on the gravel road. Reegar’s eyes scanned the fringes of society and a noxious smell assaulted his olfactory. The smell of a tannery. An odoriferous smell, but it means you are nearing a community.
The unmaintained gravel road leads to a group of buildings huddling together surrounded by farms and ranches. The trail has a crooked sign next to it that reads Crestwood.
A few buildings became visible, far from the town. Reegar noticed the tannery workshop near the town, but not in its vicinity. He saw stacks of treated and untreated leather, some of which were left hanging. Reegar noticed several workers soaking the leather in a large pot.
As he passed the outskirts of the town, he found himself near the gate of Crestwood. Wooden walls surround the town with a pair of towers at the gate.
Past the gate is a large building with a red roof. A sign hangs above the door that reads Kayle’s Workshop. It seems this is the local smithy. The smoke rises from the furnace. A red-haired woman hammers at her anvil while a pair of children play nearby.
I probably should check out their swords later.
Reegar passed the blacksmith’s shop and several buildings. He glimpsed a temple. Timber beams and posts create borders, fashioning the temple to look like a circular open area.
Reegar’s eyes turned to another building nearby. A three storied inn.
The owner must handle significant traffic. The sign above the door reads, The Immoral Priestess. Complete with a picture of a well endowed skimpy nun holding a pair of mugs.
Stolen story; please report.
What a charming name.
Beside the door, there’s a wooden cat statue. That is to be expected. Most merchants worshiped Ticari, The God of Coins, Trade, Wealth and Labor. Also known as the God of Civilization. And he loves cats. Merchants believe putting a statue of a cat next to their shop’s entrance means you are inviting prosperity. And why cats are sacred by high society.
As Reegar entered the inn, everyone focused their eyes on him. From their garbs, he assumes most of them are merchants or caravan guards. A few glanced at him, their eyes fixated on his weapon. The smell of cheap ale filled the air and the sound of conversations, laughter, the bard’s lute, and the wooden floor creaking at each step he took filled his heart with some joy. It’s been a while since he entered such an establishment.
He approached the bar and saw a white cat lying on the table. Behind it stood the bartender, a dwarf with a salt-and-pepper beard, expertly poured drinks for the customers, his experienced hands moving with precision.
“By the gods, lad. Did a giant chew and spit yer out?” he exclaimed with excitement in his voice.
Reegar took a seat on the stool and smiled. “Nay, ser dwarf. A monster has not swallowed me. Yet.”
“Truly? I suggest sticking with the swallow and escape part. Might win ye some drinks.” The dwarf chuckled as he wiped the table and placed a mug brimmed with ale. “Well then. Welcome friend to the Immoral Priestess. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Vorgahn Strongbeard, the owner of this remarkable establishment. There are four rules in this establishment. No magic. These include throwing fires, lightning, acid. No contracts nor pacts with devils, angels, feys, or any beings will be signed here. No summoning either. Three, no weapons in a brawl.”
“And the fourth one?” Reegar asked, and he sat on the bar stool.
“In this establishment,” he declared, “My words carry the weight of law.”
Reegar shrugged his shoulders, agreeing with the bartender.
“Good.” Vorgahn continued to clean his mugs. “And you are?”
“Reegar Greywalker. Paladin of Kuzunoha.”
“Kuzunoha. The Lady of Nine. I never encountered Her paladins before. Usually travelers, gamblers, adventurers.So, ser paladin what will you be having?”
“Hot chocolate.” He answered, and the bartender looked at him, bewildered. “Coffee, then.”
Vorgahn poured coffee for the paladin. “So, where are you headed?”
“Was thinking of snuggling myself in Stormpoint till spring. But today, I’m thinking here. How much for a room?”
“Premium costs one rugum and common is six temne. You’ll get a hearty meal for your dinner. Not including breakfast.”
Reegar felt his coin purse and clicked his tongue. “That is quite expensive, ser dwarf.”
“In these parts, Crestwood stands as the last bastion of civilization. Naganuum Forest lies close by.”
Naganuum Forest. Reegar recognized that name. A famous, or infamous forest said to host scores of monstrosities and ruins that cover the central part of Lycia. The green tomb they called it, the burial site of countless adventurers, treasure seekers and fools.
Reegar’s ear picks a new sound amidst the chaos of the tavern. Or the lack of it. His gaze shifted to the stage, where he noticed a woman walking to the stage. Her steps are graceful and precise, drawing the crowd to her. Her golden hair flowing down to her shoulder. She is of medium height, around five foot six. Her slightly tapered ears mark her as a half-elf. A pair of green eyes met the crowd, who silently watched, anticipating her next move.
She sat on a stool in the middle of the stage. Her hand softly brushed the lute. Her voice is beautiful, clear, angelic and haunting is how Reegar would describe it. She sang a bloody tale. The tale of Dirk Sunrise. A braggart, a bandit and his demise by Solitaire Hellmagus. A good story and some swear it is historical. But he doubts the validity. For one who named themselves Solitaire Hellmagus? It’s like calling yourself Midnight Rosedark or Bloody Chastity.
The song gave him goosebumps despite hearing it and its variations across towns. Talent or magic?
The crowd gave a roaring applause after she finished her song. Cheers echo the tavern hall, vibrating the paintings hanging from it.
She walks among the crowd with an iron bucket. Grateful patrons and fans placed coins in it as she smiled and greeted them. A bard way of life.
Her eyes locked on Reegar. She walked towards him and sat next to him, smiling and extending her right arm. “My name is Aveline Yimras, a teller of tales, master of the lute and flute, and by the gods, a prisoner of tales. Nice to meet you.”
“Reegar Greywalker.” He accepted her hand and noticed she had quite the grip. Her complexion is pale, and she has a reddish cheek. She wore a white blouse with a black leather corset wrapped around her abdomen. It formed an open skirt that covers the side of her waist that extends down to her knees. She wore a long white skirt in contrast to her armor, with a pair of leather boots and gauntlets.
Vorgahn shouted something in dwarven to the kitchen. “I’ll get you a good meal, ser paladin. A Priestess’s Bun. You’re going to love it.”
“That doesn’t sound appropriate…” Before he could finish, Vorgahn placed a stone mug near him.
Her gaze remained fixed on Reegar. She couldn’t see anything behind his visor. Normally, she sees the wearer’s eyes, but with this paladin, darkness prevails. There is nothing behind the visor. Her mind brimmed with intrigue and questions. She wriggled her finger at the amulet around Reegar’s neck. “Only a paladin or a cleric of Eris can wear a steel amulet. So, tell me, holy warrior of the Red General, where are you heading?”
Reegar took a sip from the mug and uttered a single word. Stormpoint. He turned the stool and faced her. “I have a question. Do you write your songs? How did it come to you? “
Aveline smiled at him. “Usually, people would buy me a drink before trying to start a conversation. To answer your question. I wrote my songs. And I took inspiration from what I saw or heard. Why do you ask?”
Reegar reached for a piece of paper tucked in his belt, its multiple folds giving it a worn-out appearance. Aveline opens the folded paper and notices a list of creatures written on it haphazardly. She raised her right eyebrow and looked at the paladin.
“That’s a list. Of the creatures I defeat. I’m sure you can find some inspiration from them.”
Pausing for a moment, Reegar took in the lively atmosphere of the bustling tavern. “And maybe, get me famous too.”
Aveline chuckled. She heard many adventurers proclaim heroic deeds in a tavern. Or over proclaim it. Tall tales, most of them. But she heard no one handed a bard a list of dead targets. She read the list and noticed the list comprised a few direwolves, a pair of firebears, a lot of cultists, several demons and devils, and a few ghouls and zombies.
“And how do you defeat these creatures?”
“Swinging my sword. I slash, slash, slash. And they fall.” Reegar answered proudly, and Aveline looked at him with a confused look. “I sometimes stab too. And smite.”
The bard chuckled softly, returning the paper. “I need more than slash and stab to write a song, sir Greywalker. I need the why and the how. How did you stumble upon these creatures for example. Did you encounter a tragic maiden looking for a hero to save her village?”
“I don’t recall meeting such a maiden. But I once followed a fox and encounter a crazed Bogron terrorizing a village. Big green toad-creature with warts and slime all around the body and a prehensile tongue.”
Aveline raised her left eyebrow in amusement. He said he followed a fox. And he has a nine-tail fox amulet around his neck. Definitely a paladin of Kuzunoha. She never followed or formed a party with a paladin before. It could be an interesting experience.
Vorgahn returned and placed large circular bread on the table with smoke coming out of the cover. He placed a knife and fork next to the bread. “This is the Priestess’ Bun. Its bread, hollowed out, plastered with butter and filled with meat, mushrooms, meat again and cheese. Sweet, juicy and meaty,” he explained and handed a spoon and fork to Reegar, who gratefully accepted it.
“Finally, food.”