“Archmagus Mercurian began his studies by taking in a new apprentice. She was just starting her training in Mana, so Mercurian gave her the rank of 1. He then guided her development, watching over her and recording each time her Mana went through a qualitative change.
He gave each its own rank, and as he did, he codified the ranking system. As his apprentice gained more familiarity and experience with Mana, it would build inside her until, like a cup that tried to hold to much liquid, spilled into an ever-larger vessel.”
“The Mercurion Reformation of Mana” Magus Ayla Weaver, 1652 IC
Chapter 7
Following the line of carts, Wil rode his horse through the town’s south gate and onto the main cobblestone road through the town.
Whitewater was located alongside a curved portion of the river, with the docks located in a small, calm cove slightly separated from the main flow of the river. The town was protected on one side by the river, and the wall ran from the riverbank, in a half circle around the settlement.
The main road directly bisected the town, leading through it and eventually into the neighboring kingdom of Khmer.
As Wil followed the carts, he arrived in what appeared to be the center of town. A large open area, with market stalls, inns and shops bordered the square. To Wil’s right, he could see another road that led to the docks, while the main road heading to the town’s north gate led straight through the square.
“Auxiliaries, out of the carts!” a voice bellowed.
Stopping briefly to allow the Auxiliaries to get off, the carts began to turn towards the docks, where the large warehouses that held the trade goods were located. The legion would hold most of its supplies in a dockside warehouse, under heavy guard.
Wil dismounted from his horse, leading it by the reins over to where the other Auxiliaries were gathering in the square. Wil estimated there were about 40 in total, the woman with the bow who was staring at him, amongst them. She stood near a tall man in worn plate armor, a short woman covered in a black cloak and a priest in a yellow robe.
A short, brown-haired woman in a legion uniform, long grey coat with the imperial legion symbol, an eagle in flight, on the front left side. Standing in front assembled crowd, she addressed the group.
“Listen up, I’m Sergeant Gilman, legion quartermaster here in Whitewater. I’ll be leading you all to your lodgings, we have long houses set up near the Fort as temporary quarters while you’re here. Meals will be served from the mess. Don’t expect a palace, it’s shared accommodations and you eat what gets served. For anyone with coin to spend, the inns here have rooms and meals, but it’s your own cost.” she explained.
“My assistant will lead you all there, so get settled. You’ll be meeting with your auxiliary group leaders in two hours, at the Fort courtyard.”
Nodding her head to her assistant, a grizzled veteran, bearded and wearing a breastplate over his grey legion coat, she left and headed towards the docks.
“Follow me if yer comin’.” He said, not even bothering to see if anyone followed.
Wil watched as most of the group followed the Quartermaster’s assistant, including the woman from the cart. Wil turned towards the buildings lining the square, easily spotting a sign over the door of one building which read ‘The Golden Goat’.
Making his way to the side of the inn, he found the attached stable. Speaking with the stable boy, Wil arranged for the care of his horse, while his tack, saddle and bags would be brought to his room.
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Taking the satchel that contained his spell book and valuables, Wil removed his scabbarded sword from his horse, carrying it in his hand, as he slung his satchel of his shoulder.
Wil entered the Golden Goat and was instantly hit with the pleasant smell of the tavern: wine, pipe smoke and something spicy from the kitchen.
He weaved his way through the crowded tables and made his way to the bar. He quickly spotted the innkeeper, a portly woman with a clean white apron over a dark shirt and long dark skirts. She was bustling behind the bar, directing her serving girls and topping up ale mugs.
“Good day, I’d like a room, a bath and a meal.” Wil asked.
The innkeeper, finishing pouring a new flagon for one of the men seated at the bar, looked at him.
“Silver coin a day” she said.
Wil, doing the math on how long he would be needing to stay in Whitewater and finding that he had just enough for the expense, opened his money pouch and handed over his remaining gold coins.
He still had a small assortment of copper and silver, but at least he had a place to stay for the duration of his time in Whitewater.
“Here’s the key, third floor, last room on the left. Bath is back there, by the kitchen.” She gestured with her thumb to a door behind her. Pocketing the gold and handing over a key, she returned to serving the patrons at the bar.
Wil went up the stairs, finding his room on the third floor. A modest, but clean room, it had a single bed, a table with chair and a closet for clothing. He set down his satchel and sword on the table, left the room and made his way back downstairs towards the bath.
Tucked in the rear of the building, the bath was a single room with a tub. Speaking to a servant in the kitchen, Wil ordered hot water for the bath. Shortly, he was soaking in the tub, washing the dust from the road off.
Getting out, Wil cast a quick cleaning spell on his clothing and armor. Scrubbed, with clean clothing and armor, Wil felt refreshed as he headed to the tavern. Sitting down at an empty table, he ordered a meal and a mug of ale.
The meal arrived, a large bowl of stew, freshly baked bread and a large, frothy mug of ale. Finishing the food quickly, Wil made his way back to his room to gather his things. His saddle bags had arrived while he was downstairs.
After unpacking, Wil slung his satchel containing his spell book and components over his shoulder and strapped his sword around his hips, before making his way downstairs and out of the tavern.
Looking to the west of the tavern, the opposite direction of the river, Wil could see the large imposing legion fort in the distance.
Turning in the Fort’s direction, Wil began walking there. Judging from the position of Primaris, he figured he had only spent half of his allotted time before the meeting with the auxiliary commander. Wil exited the square, following a cobblestone path that curved as it made its way towards the Fort.
The road was wide, and a steady stream of carts were coming and going from the Fort’s direction, with soldiers wearing legion insignia, towns people, merchants and Auxiliaries adding to the crush of people.
Whitewater was a hub of activity in the days leading up to Nightfall, but during the Night it would empty of most visitors, with only the residents and the soldiers remaining.
After walking for fifteen minutes or so, Wil arrived at the open gates of the Fort. Connected to the main town wall, the Fort faced the forests to the west, where the beasts and monsters made their lairs.
The Fort had an inner courtyard, separated from the rest of the town by a small inner wall. The gates to the inner wall were now opened, allowing Wil to enter the courtyard.
The dirt courtyard was wide, with walls on all three of its sides and the main fort directly across from the gates. The courtyard contained a smattering of Auxiliaries, with various armor, weapons and clothing styles. Legion soldiers were passing through the courtyard, carrying items or removing them from the Fort’s interior.
As time passed, more and more of his peers arrived, some grumbling about the accommodations or food, others clearly having started in on their evening wine. A few stood in close groups, clearly veterans who had fought together before, and the others gave them a wide space.
Overall, most of the Auxiliaries were of a similar age to Wil, young rank 1 newcomers who desperately needed the experience that came with fighting during the Nightfall raids. Many joined for the coin and the potential rewards, regardless of the risk.
Spotting the young woman entering the courtyard, she turned and locked eyes with him. Wil gave her a small smile and nodded at her, before turning back to look to the front, where the Fort’s Commander had just entered.
A tall man, dressed in a grey legion overcoat, he had dark hair and eyes. Clean shaven, the commander was middle aged and clearly a veteran of the legion, with a pin on his collar that indicated his rank. He had a long sword strapped over his back, in the Western Provincial style.