“Woe is to the humans of Prokum, for you are given naught to defend against the hordes. May you envy those races better than thyself, the elf’s mastery of mana that they become one with it, the dwarven craftsmen molding stone and metal like clay, the goblin captains forging the seas as though it a puddle, and the kobolds who stop any magic as though child’s play.
Do not despair sweet child of man, for you are not without your boons. Look and see that your vision is not blinded by tears of fear but by the heads of your fellows. Relish those beside you for together you are one.”
The plaque on the Statue of Man, just outside the capital plaza.
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Oliver.
The popping of my joints is the only thing celebrating the extreme spending I’d just finished. With my signature and a hearty stack of Irons, I can now call myself the proud owner of a run-down shack just inside the market district.
Well, I call it that but when compared to the mini mansions that typically adorn the district I’m not far off. Rich merchants who can’t afford to live in the nobles districts don’t often have much of a choice in terms of housing so many opt to build right beside their main source of income. Hence a line of manors crammed into as little space as possible. Long ago I once considered joining them but with my craft nearing its zenith the foolhardy offer of an overly enthusiastic couple was all I needed to leave this damned city.
And now here I was once again trapped like a beast in its cage begging for freedom or death. At my age, I suppose it’s just a waiting game now, a somber thought but I ignore it for the sake of the tiny hand gripping my own. I do have some family here, the odd cousin or such but most have gone the way of the heroes of old leaving me little options once things settle. Looking at the young grip beside me I can’t help but remember just who her parents were and how well they hid it.
Emma is what the mages would call a prodigy, both I and Arvi knew it and so did her mother, even Anna knew. It’ll be years before we know to what extent her abilities lie but that's part of why I’m having Xavier drag her to the college. I’d rather not tell the young man as I'd hate to add that headache atop his already spilling guts.
I shudder briefly at the thought, calling him lucky isn’t enough to describe just how fortunate he is. Like finding gold in the sewers he somehow avoided the absolute worst that comes with an arrow to the gut. No organ damage, like a thread through a needle that arrow dodged his important bits and came clean out his side. Luckier still it wasn’t tipped in poison of some kind, hells even the city guards occasionally dip their crossbows into shit for a better chance at killin’.
Why chase down a crook when you can shoot him in the back and let him drop later of the sickness?
Then there’s the hole itself and how he’s not running a fever right now, if I hadn’t forced the issue he’d be out on the town like nothing was wrong! Most people get chills and weakness at least, those few poor bastards whom Lady Luck shits on drop in a day or two of infection. We bought salves and he’s using them but I’m still worried he’s putting on a brave face for the little one.
A sigh escapes me as Emma and I slowly make our way back to the inn, our arms laden with random food and toiletries. I was hoping one of those cousins had some insight into the city but with how long I’ve been gone I’m too far out of the loop. Even my occasional visits did little in the way of gossip but I do have the people I usually sold to, most of whom are close friends. But even they can’t give the real important bits without a hefty sum or a favor I can’t comply with.
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The clerk greets me with a smile as he hells better. I paid for a month in advance, amenities included, most don’t pay for a full day in these parts, they don’t often need it. Our room isn’t high in luxury but it makes up for it with free space and extra beds. It even has a small kitchen though we’re unlikely to use it much.
The burden on my shoulders shifts as I dig for my key but Emma beats me to it and is already pushing the door the rest of the way.
Less than a second passes before the panic sets in and what I’m carrying scatters to the ground. My hands grip Emma’s shoulders and I heave the both of us in a single motion away from the doorway. Not a second later the familiar snap of wire sounds followed by three arrows, one sits at the exact height of Emma’s head.
Breath returns in shakey gasps, my joints screaming in pain from the burst of activity. I haven’t moved like that in twenty years and it takes everything I have not to collapse. Just as I’m contemplating the severity of what I just witnessed a wave of blue and green mana washes over me. Before I can act a soft touch cools my arms Emma’s hand is gently placed over mine her magic already working to heal my decrepit bones.
“Thank you dear I needed that!”
I say with the brightest smile I can manage. Someone wants us dead that much is obvious and while I’d love to know why the method is what concerns me. Traps like that aren’t something the average assassin would use and the more unique ones would guarantee a kill. Whoever did this isn’t used to hunting people or they don’t care if we live. A warning perhaps?
I could think of quite a long list of people who don’t like us me especially but don’t want us immediately dead. Literally any noble for one. Someone higher up likely knows about the plate but if so why not a more direct attack? Nobles play games with people daily. A few more bodies than usual would only annoy the cleanup crews. Then again we aren’t exactly nobodies either, with the right prep work I could easily qualify for noble protection if not a direct line of work under one.
To many factors and I need to stay focused, first thing first, clear the room. A dull red seeps from my back and spills onto the floor like fog in the early morning. Slowly it travels across the wood paneling into the room and instantly I hear another three twangs as arrows are let loose. Sweeping the rest of the room has no more traps but I do notice a small object atop the dining room table.
Cautiously I enter briefly stopping to gather our bags, the room is mostly untouched save for the three bedrooms each one now sporting an arrow where our heads would’ve rested. Our sole table hood the note I placed this morning as well as a small wooden box smithing may be my focus but even I can tell how delicate its design is. Intricate swirls and loops cover the box as though waves in the ocean or clouds on a bright day. Atop the lid of the box, the pattern ends with a small carved indent in the shape of a shield dull brown mana sitting within, waiting.
A magic lock and a fairly uncommon variant at that. Enchantments aren’t cheap when iron gears are just as effective the only time they see any use is when you can’t have a smith knowing what’s inside. Arvi showed me a few locks just like this once upon a time and said they were a poorly kept guild secret. Didn’t want any random pickpockets getting info on relics and such.
No question why it’s here though, I can only shake my head at how stupid Xavier is, not even a week has gone by and he’s already getting himself killed again. Would be more upset if I didn’t know his reasoning. The man thinks we’re destitute at the moment so for now I’m holding off the blame. The second that gut wound heals though I’m clocking him in the jaw.
—{}{}{}{}{}—
Emma.
Our room is bathed in colors, unlike anything I’ve seen before. Reds swirl from Oliver’s lingering magic, the mist still trying its best to search every nook and cranny for danger. My blues and greens still sit in the doorway with just enough power left to fix old scuff marks where the door was slammed shut in days long past. The brown on the box waiting to meet its partner so it might fade away.
It’s all so beautiful but I know things are very bad right now, someone wants to hurt us. Oliver mentioned Xavier so I can only hope he gets here safely. He should be fine though the colors don’t like him much and it helps him hide. My mouth won’t move but I desperately want to yell out the real danger, hanging over our heads unmoving is a thick cloud of purple. I’ve never seen purple before.