The moon waned and a calm gray color filled the sky. Dawn approached. Sam laid on the roof of the inn, marveling at the glittering fog which came from a nearby river valley. The township was built on a hill to prevent floods, but the mists climbed like rodents, streaming over the entire dale in a damp stampede, hills, cliffs, and all.
Sam jumped down and walked the streets like a shadow. Waterfetchers set off with their buckets as part of their morning chore, and smoke puffed from the chimneys of the bakers. The day started like any other, in quiet peace.
Sam turned down a more prominent street near the center of the town, where fences seemed to grow like trees, reaching heights hard for a padfoot to climb. Peering down it, he could see a large mansion-style home at the far end, with the basic workings of a magic defense system around it. The magics glittered in the dark, and the spells hummed like a beehive behind a thin wall.
From the mansion a familiar pulse of magic echoed, building up and then breaking repeatedly, like a toddler trying to run before learning to walk. Sam smiled. He could feel the threads of destiny tying him to this place, calling to him like a siren’s song.
Intrigued, Sam made his way to the building. He slipped past the magic defenses and alarms with ease, but still felt content with them. Not many would be capable of doing what he could. The alarms were well designed, but their scope simply couldn’t include something of Sam’s caliber… But then again, not many things could.
Behind the building was a wide courtyard, brick paved around a grass yard. Two maple trees grew on opposite sides, like the eyes of yin and yang, the green of their leaves dulled by the morning dark. On the grass stood a young girl, on the eve of her teenage years. Magic roiled within her body and she took up a wide stance. She put one leg forward and bent it, her arms turned like snakes shifting to a charmer’s pungi, and a magic circuit formed from the conjunction between her movements and chants. A Ruin magic took shape, but the edges were rough. The mana bubbled like a blister, and a foul air of dark magic seeped into the surroundings. The crude spell couldn’t be held with low mana levels, and despite the child’s excessive attempts at controlling it, the fireball exploded in front of her and knocked her back, burning her arms.
“Why, why why why!” The girl cried out, tears in her eyes.
Sam moved on instinct, not even considering the consequences of his actions. He had never been one to think of subtlety. He appeared next to the child and placed his hand on her arms.
The girl winced and almost screamed when a sudden feeling of relief surged through her. She looked down to see her burns and other scars vanish. Her cry caught itself in her throat.
“Watch,” said Sam as he held up his free hand and constructed an exact replica of the spell the girl was just trying to perform. “This spell’s construction is sloppy. Even with excessive control it’s base is built improperly.”
Sam pointed to several parts of the magic constructs, using illusion magic to make them visible to the child. He emphasized each point carefully with a slow but gentle hand. His words flowed like a river, no matter where the flow went, it always reached the sea in the end.
“Here, here, and here. These spots all carry redundant magic flows. Even a magician with twice your mana would struggle to cast it properly.”
In an instant, Sam listed out over twenty problems with the spell, and then another twenty problems with the girl’s execution. The child watched on with rapt attention, almost in a daze. She couldn’t pry her eyes from the stranger’s spellwork.
“Chloe!” An elderly man’s voice yelled from the other side of the courtyard. A portly gentleman stepped out of the house and called out to his granddaughter.
“Grampa…” The girl didn’t know how to respond. She turned to her elder and then back to the mysterious stranger only to find him vanished, as if he never existed. No trace remained. Even the ambience of cast magic had fled with him, like a dream.
“Where you out trying to practice magic again?” Her grandfather asked. “I know you’re struggling with reaching the 1st Circle, but don’t let the upcoming Academy Rankings make you act recklessly. You could get hurt if you practice without supervision...”
“Grampa there was a man here…” Chloe tried to interject.
The old man looked towards the courtyard and saw all of the defensive magics still in place, untouched, “Oh no! You must have hit your head too!”
While her grandfather franticly panicked about, worried over his favorite grandchild’s mental health, Chloe tuned him out and thought back to the stranger’s lecture. She turned her hand palm-up and a fireball roared to life, floating gently in front of her. Her grandfather’s voice trailed off. Both of them stared at the fireball in awe, as if it were the only thing in all the world.
-
Sam walked down the street at a brisk pace, thankful that he sensed the old man before he was spotted. A child telling stories of a stranger was one thing, but if the older man saw him too… Once a myth, twice a warning.
The mist muddied the roads, but Sam paid it little mind. He never minded dirt, even if he could prevent it from sticking to him. In the loneliness of the Tutorial cleanliness had been something Sam only kept to prevent illness. Dirt on his clothes mattered so little to him it almost didn’t even register in his thoughts.
-
Sam turned the corner and the inn came into sight. Standing outside the inn was the pair Riben and Gyre, both looking unsettled. When the duo met eyes with Sam, all the tension seemed to leave them.
“You bastard, were you thinking of leaving without us!” Riben called, his voice cracking. His eyebrows narrowed. Despite the delivery, it wasn’t a joke.
“Calm down,” said Sam, “I wouldn’t dare leave without my friends. I just went to tour the town a bit in the morning. It’d be a shame to just pass by such a lively place without truly seeing it all.”
“We could have toured the town together,” commented Gyre.
Sam shook his head, “I didn’t want to delay our journey. Come, I’ll teach you both a bit of spellwork over breakfast.”
Riben and Gyre’s expressions changed, and they were all smiles at the drop of a hat. The trio walked into the inn shoulder to shoulder, laughing once more as if the night never ended.
-
The trio continued their journey around mid-morning, with full bellies and mirthful thoughts. Riben and Gyre seemed distracted, though, and weren’t singing or telling stories. Both of them moved their hands and chanted runes, as they focused on casting an Illusion spell.
Sam nodded off to the side, choosing not to interject. Trial and error was an important aspect to magic. Sam knew that better than anyone. He already explained the spell, its proper uses, casting methods, and training techniques. Anything more would be over the top. Everyone had their own nuances to magic, and everyone needed to make their spells their own. Magic wasn’t math, though one could take a systematic and mathematical approach to it if they wished.
With the journey plagued by a strange silence, Sam’s thoughts wandered to the child he met earlier in the morning. He didn’t regret teaching her on a whim, but he did regret running away in a panic when her elder appeared. There was no reason to run, after all. Sure he was trespassing, but it wasn’t like he had ill intentions. It would have been better to introduce himself properly. With such a large home, surely the family was well off and had connections within the Kriegan Empire. Not making any contact with them there was probably the wrong move.
Sam shook his head and let the thought pass. Regret was a pointless thing. It wasn’t like he could change the past. He could only learn from this and move forward.
-
The strange silence pervaded for another stretch of road before Riben formally announced his resignation. The spell was too complex for him. Gyre, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a breakthrough.
Riben started his bard-like singing again; his wealth of rhymes and songs felt bottomless.
The dirt road changed to a wide cobbled path, and that path eventually fell away to a strange paved stone-way, something akin to asphalt that Sam had never seen before. Magic flowed from the smooth pathway like a mountain stream; it trickled along and carried a hint of each passerby’s aura.
Sam studied the road, and found applications of Cabalist runes and Manifestation magics in concert that he never considered before. While the rune-work could use improvement, the sheer innovation overwhelmed him. Once more he found himself humbled by the world since the Tutorial. Sam grinned, his hopes for this trip ignited further.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
-
A small glade transitioned into a hillside vale. The trees grew thin but strong. Their branches felt like wire, flexible and tough. The green growth looked young. The roar of a distant river cut the air.
“Do you hear that?” Asked Riben, a fun smile on his face. “That’s the river Vendyne, it means we’re close to Sauver-Hill.”
Gyre nodded, taking a break from analyzing his spellwork, “Vendyne runs through the city, splitting it in twain. They say the river is named after one of the Wild Gods.”
“Is it named after Vendel?” Sam asked.
Gyre smiled, “I’m surprised you know the name. Not many study the Wild Gods these days.”
Sam caught his tongue. He thought over Gyre’s words carefully. His big book of Common Sense never mentioned ‘Wild Gods’, but it did speak of people that worshipped the Demon Lords. Had the terminology changed? Sam wanted to comment on it, but he decided against it. The topic of religion didn’t seem like something he should delve into among friends. This seemed a better line of questioning for a priest, or maybe a librarian.
-
The glade vanished and rows of fields appeared. Cutting through them roared a mighty river, too wide to wade, and the waters toiled and foamed like home-churned butter. On the river rows upon rows of boats floated, tall sails mixing with clouds on the horizon gave the illusion of a connection between Heaven and Earth. A fresh wind blew, carrying the scent of open waters. Furrows formed in the fields of grass with the shifting winds, their waves in concert with the distant river made the water turn green and stretch ashore; there was no divide between land and sea.
Beyond the fields the river cut down into a valley. Over the bend the land transformed from a sea of green into white pointed towers. The skyline of the city stretched like fingers into the sky, bending at strange points. Torrents of mana flowed about, mixing into the air and water at random. The sound of horns bellowed on the winds, and the path grew more and more crowded.
Sam watched in awe. Buried memories surfaced as he saw the crowds. He sensed, within the denseness of the population, a feeling of familiarity. The trio continued to walk, each step revealing new wonders.
Soon the city opened itself in its entirety. Buildings sprawled and paths split like capillaries, the people walking the blood pumping through them. The city curled with the riverbend, and the fort stood at the very end, visible from all points, a massive head on the proverbial dragon. Spires and keeps dotted the land—-the claws and wings—-and a myriad of colors filled in the gaps.
There was no great wall or divide. No gate or heralded entry held back the wave of people, wagons, and livestock. An inland city had no needs of such security, and—-after he thought about it—-Sam realized that such gatekeeping would only serve to slow down trade and business.
The roads split and houses sprang up like weeds. Streets scattered in all directions and people moved in tides. Music, chatter, and other sounds flooded all the world, and Sam found himself turning in circles as he tried to take in all the sights. Criers stood in the plazas, bells in hand, and they cried out ‘Hear Ye, Hear Ye’. Wagons rolled with goods, their wheels grinding along the smooth stone with ease, and merchants offered their wares at each bend. Each view lead to new and vibrant scenes, and the roads grew wider and wider still.
Colors flashed as banners and vibrant clothes ruffled about. Folks walked with purpose and few found themselves like Sam, wide-eyed in wonder. Riben and Gyre stood close by, keeping watch on their friend; both were clearly amused by his reactions.
“The Magistrate has raised the tax on sugar again!” Boomed a voice over the crowd. Magic surged, amplifying the cry. A small crowd gathered around a platform where a man in yellow-frilled clothes decried the crimes of the local government.
“Is… Is that man going to get arrested?” Sam asked, his thoughts returning to normal, finally.
“No. Sauver-Hill is a weird city. All the officials live in the Dragonbone Fort on the North side, where all the wandering paths converge at the gate to the capital,” said Riben. “Here on the South side of the city the law enforcement won't step in unless people start fighting.”
Riben pointed to the side of the street, where several men wearing what looked to be uniforms leaned against a brick building, each of them savoring the shade. The uniforms were anything but uniform, with each being an amalgamation of greens and reds, all with different patterns and shapes on the sleeve.
Sam nodded. Riben took the lead here, and Gyre returned to his silent study.
The trio walked one of the many paths, but Riben kept them to more popular and presentable roads. Sam noted this kindness. Any city would have its darker sides and slums. While Sam felt for those less fortunate, he wanted to see the bright side of Sauver-Hill today.
The group passed theaters, restaurants, inns, shops, stalls, and markets. Along the way Sam collected more and more trinkets, finally finding a use for his needlessly large stash of gold. From carved figurines to ‘ancient magic scrolls’, Sam scurried from kiosk to kiosk, an easy mark for the myriad of shrewd peoples working in the city. Riben and Gyre didn’t stop him. They couldn’t stop him.
Sam was caught up in the thrill of the city. Still, despite his glee, his eyes flashed with a grim light when he sensed several men following him and his friends. Those following couldn’t hide the malice flowing around them, their magic auras were tinted with black smoke, residue from wrong-doings in the past.
“We’re being followed,” said Gyre, surprising Sam with his vigilance. Sam remembered, then, that when he met Gyre the man sensed Sam’s own unusual-ness.
Riben, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the whole thing. How he survived as a town guard was anyone’s guess.
-
The trio ducked into the shadows of a tall building, finding a narrow stretch behind it into an alley on the side. All the colors of the city began to fade as they made their ways deeper, away from the main paths.
Sam raised up his hand and magic poured free, lifting up a blue light. Crossbow bolts smashed into the shield, snapping with plinking sounds and falling to the ground. Riben cursed and ducked, reacting slow to the threat. Gyre held his sword up, in position to block any blows that Sam’s magic missed.
Then, the world went calm. No one moved.
The sound of clapping hands broke the silence.
“You’re skilled. It’s a no wonder why you have so much gold on you,” said a man as he stepped out from the shadows. The man was dressed in white trousers and a white shirt, both clean and neat with buttons running up and down. He was thin with a narrow face, and his eyes were in a perpetual squint.
“Is this just a generic robbery?” Gyre asked, clearly recognizing the foe.
The man in white smiled, “B-Ranked Hunter Gyre, the pride of Madda. One of the 10 strongest of Southern Braxia... No. This isn’t a normal hit and run...”
“Three men on the rooftop with crossbows, two behind the man in white, and another two flanking us,” said Sam, interrupting the villain’s spiel.
To be quite honest, Sam didn’t really care much for exposition. He didn’t really care why Gyre was being targeted, nor did he bother letting the ‘villain’ continue monologuing. In fact, in all of the stories Riben told along the way, all the villains made long speeches. Sam wondered why none of the heroes didn’t end them in those moments of vulnerability? Why bother listening to them out? Especially in this case where, Sam quite firmly believed, that he had absolutely no reason to care. If anyone targeted his friends while he was around, they would not have a good future.
A tremendous magic power surged through the alleyway, and all at once the seven ‘criminals’ found themselves on their knees standing in front of Sam. Their eyes went wide. They couldn’t move their bodies. They couldn’t make a sound. Panic set in and they tried to squirm, but found themselves unable to even sweat.
“Gyre, do you know them?” Sam asked, turning to his friend.
Gyre sighed, “Yes.” He didn’t speak further, clearly unwilling to share.
Sam rubbed his hair and tilted his head to the side. “So, what do we do with them?” He asked.
Riben hefted his spear and lowered the point to the leader’s throat, “Those crossbow shots would have killed me. That’s attempted murder. Lets save the hangman some rope.”
“No,” said Gyre, putting a hand on Riben’s spear. He turned to Sam, “Sam, do you have a way to make them… Incapacitated for a few days? Maybe make them sleep till we leave the city? Forget they ever saw us?”
Sam nodded. “Do you have a reason we shouldn’t just… Be done with them?”
“Efficiency,” said Gyre. “We kill them then the Dragon’s Throat will go on lockdown. We’d become criminals pretty quick in the city. I’m sure you’ve felt the magic in the roads. I don’t know how the magic works, but they can recognize killings and other crimes. Without someone high up in the Hall of Records, we’d never be able to walk in the Empire openly again…”
“Ah,” Sam smiled. “But if they just disappear for 3 days, wouldn’t that also cause a lockdown?”
“Not if we just put them to sleep and let them be found. I’m assuming very few healers could undo one of your spells.”
Sam’s smile twisted a bit. He waved his hand and an illusion and cabalist magic overlapped, creating something with so much raw power it shook the very earth with its unreality. A glaze washed over the 7 assailant’s eyes. One began to foam at the mouth and passed out directly. The other six seemed to stay conscious, but they were twitching and suffering.
“This spell will end after three days,” said Sam.
“Good. We should leave the city today, if possible,” said Gyre. “No need to get caught up in anything. We’ve killed no one and committed no crimes. They won't be able to hold us at the gates, even if they find out we were involved in… This.” He gestured towards the figures twitching on the ground.
Gyre’s shoulders stooped in relief, but Sam felt uncomfortable. He looked down at the road and started deciphering the magics. If he had taken some time when he first made note of the strange spells to study them, then he could have potentially hidden any wrongdoing entirely… Though, it was a bit late for such regrets. It would take time to manipulate a magic he’d never seen in such a subtle way. He could avoid it for himself easily, but to change it for Riben and Gyre would prove tricky.
In his heart, Sam felt a terrible disquiet, and he could feel eyes watching him. He knew that things wouldn't go as peacefully as Gyre thought.
A dark light flashed in Sam’s eyes. His smile faded. Sam’s actions since leaving the World’s Crown had been rather tame. In this moment, he considered making his name a bit more widespread… Make it something to fear. After all, as an immortal with very few ties in Braxia at all, not many things could make him stay his hand if he decided to reap.
If anyone tried to harm his friends… Well, it wasn’t like he couldn’t settle down in a different country.
At that moment, several high-ranked officials in the city felt a cold shiver travel down their spines. Their mouths tasted of iron, and a shadow cast itself over their hearts; they could feel their own doom approaching like an executioner’s axe, unavoidable and unstoppable like the cold march of time. Everything smelled of ash and decay.
-
“Your assumption was wrong, by the way, Gyre,” said Sam as the trio walked back towards the main road, his voice jovial and upbeat. “No healers could undo my spell.”