The hill coyote lay low to the ground, hiding in the tall grass, its ears perked up. It sniffed the air and, sensing no immediate danger, darted a little further, closer to the hilltop. It settled in sparse shrubbery and listened again. Someone was moving ahead. Judging by the sounds, it was bipedal. The coyote was young and curious, so after a brief stay in the bushes, it climbed the small hill and peeked its muzzle out of the grass. Along a barely visible in this twilight beast path, meandering through sporadic shrubs, a solitary two-legged being moved, shuffling their feet.
This person behaved differently from others the young animal had encountered before. This two-legged carried no long stick in his hands, and there was no sharp, dangerous, shiny strip hanging from its belt. The human was also dressed unusually light for these parts. There were no heavy garments or tall hiking boots, just light fabric covering its body, and the footwear left its toes exposed. Moreover, there was barely any sharp, slightly sour scent of iron from this two-legged, just a hint of it. The man trudged along, stumbling frequently. Despite having his eyes open, it seemed to the coyote that the person saw nothing in front of him. If not for the absence of the scent of blood, the hill beast would've thought the man was gravely injured, but he seemed fully intact, albeit behaving oddly.
After observing the peculiar two-legged for several minutes, the coyote decided he posed no threat and certainly wasn't a hunter. Drawing in a deep breath of the fresh evening air, the beast silently retreated from the hilltop and hurried to the nearest stream. This strange two-legged posed no danger, and the beast was thirsty...
Aun Duan, a young merchant from the free city of Tries, indeed meandered along the faint trail between the hills without watching his path. He had been walking since dawn. His eyes were open, but he didn't focus on the way ahead. He was preoccupied, with his attention wholly consumed by burdensome thoughts. Just that morning, he believed everything would fall into place, thinking his string of bad luck had finally come to an end.
How wrong he was!
The young man wasn't weak-willed; he'd faced many adversities in just a few days. He survived a pirate attack, narrowly escaping death after a severe injury. His father was murdered before his eyes, leaving him an orphan. He experienced a merchant's worst nightmare - bankruptcy. The once-affluent heir of a prosperous trading family was left with next to nothing. Additionally, he managed to survive several attempts on his life.
He handled everything. Although a strange man named Raven had aided him. The one who, for some time, took the place of his father and even became a mentor. Yet Raven himself denied his role as a mentor in the young man's life. But if it weren't for Aun's strong character, largely inherited from his grandfather, no help would have been able to assist him.
Without any support, left alone, devoid of even the slightest help from his clan, he would have likely given up. No, he wouldn't have hit rock bottom, but merely accepted the hand that fate dealt him. He'd simply drift along until an assassin's dagger would cut his life short, a life that had been shaping up so unfavorably. But at the toughest time for him, a new friend lent him a shoulder. He helped Aun not to be crushed by the weight of destiny. He encouraged him, listened, explained. And even when, at dawn today, Raven abandoned him right before the most crucial conversation of his life, Aun faced it with his head held high. He just watched the back of the man he considered his mentor, wiped away the tears that appeared in his eyes, straightened his back, and smiled at his hometown. At that moment, he felt like he could face anything fate threw at him.
Or so it seemed...
After seeing his friend and mentor to the Temple of All Gods, the young man returned home. Once again, slowly and thoughtfully, he went over all the details of the upcoming conversation. Then he changed into his best clothes and, taking with him neatly written sheets with calculations proving the viability of his future family enterprise, he set out for the most challenging discussion of his life. The young man was determined to prove to Aunt Zian that she wouldn't find a better husband for her daughter. He knew what to say and what to emphasize during the upcoming conversation, having spent so much time planning and preparing his speech.
The evening before, he had sent a message to Aunt Zian, informing her of his visit. By doing this, he cut off any chance of chickening out. And though his knees trembled as he walked from home to the fabric shop, he couldn't turn back.
Aunt Zian greeted him with incredible warmth. She invited him into her quarters, where a table set with expensive snacks and an opened bottle of light but delicious wine awaited them. They sat opposite each other, like business partners, and she immediately began discussing the details of the upcoming wedding celebration. Aun listened to her, struggling to believe that behind the facade of a demanding yet kind, hospitable, and helpful woman was the one who hired mercenaries to kill him. To kill someone she had known for years, whom she had cradled in her arms. The young man listened to her quietly and politely, choosing the right moment to reveal that he knew everything. Meanwhile, Aunt Zian continued talking about who should be invited to the celebration and who should be left out. At that moment, Aun didn't interrupt her, genuinely admiring Aunt Zian's theatrical prowess.
The young man was prepared for any turn in their conversation. When Alaya's mother finished speaking and filled their glasses, proposing a special toast as if to seal their future alliance, Aun gently moved her hand aside and looked her straight in the eyes. Withstanding the bewildered gaze of Aunt Zian, the younger Duan spoke in a firm and calm voice, saying he knew everything.
He knew who was behind the attempts on his life and who had ordered assassins for his soul. With every word he said, with every evidence he presented, Aunt Zian's eyes widened more and more. She didn't protest or defend herself. She just listened.
At first, she seemed to be feigning genuine surprise. But then her face appeared to sharpen, aging her by at least a decade. When he finished his story, Aunt Zian rose from her chair, pale as chalk, and without a word, left the room. Aun hadn't anticipated such a turn of events. He sat there, holding the sheets of calculations, unsure of what to do next. Should he follow her? Confront her? Or simply wait? He couldn't have predicted that she would just listen and then simply walk away without any defense.
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However clever Aun was, no matter how he tried to anticipate and calculate every possible outcome, he was, as his enigmatic mentor would have put it, "hung." He sat there for a good five minutes, motionless with papers clenched in his fist, until the door flung open. Alaya, looking disheveled, practically flew in, knocking over a table laden with delicacies. Right behind her, Aunt Zian stormed in like a furious tempest. Without letting her daughter rise from the floor, she grabbed Alaya by the hair and dragged her to the feet of the stunned young man.
When Aun saw this scene, when his beloved's forehead touched his feet because Aunt Zian had forced her face down to them, he realized... The world seemed to shake before his eyes, turning fluid, almost unreal. A real family drama was unfolding, and he sat there, like a statue carved from stone, unable to even blink.
Under the threat of being banished from home and disinherited, Alaya confessed everything. She admitted that six months ago, a young caravaner from a family that had supplied fabrics to their shop for years began courting her. Despite the suitor being handsome and charismatic, she rejected all his advances. Then, to impress her, the young caravaner named Quins confessed that he wasn't just a mere merchant but a genuine secret assassin. She had laughed it off back then, and when the fabric merchant caravan left town the next time, she had forgotten all about him.
And then, a series of events unfolded. First, at a festival, Alaya met the middle son of Ger Varti, and this young man was not indifferent to the girl's beauty. But at that time, Alaya did not accept the advances of a representative of one of the most respected and wealthy families of Tries. She declined because she was already engaged, and the match her mother chose for her suited Alaya perfectly. Because she wanted to be the first in the family and not be completely subordinate to a more influential husband. So, despite the middle son of Ger Varti catching her fancy, she did not show it.
Then, in the same week, news came that pirates had attacked a ship bought by the Duan family, and only young Aun survived. Since the Duan family had invested all their resources into that ship and its cargo, Alaya realized that the future she had envisioned for herself was now in ruins. She had dreamt that by marrying Aun, a boy who was hopelessly and utterly in love with her, she could control him as she wished. In particular, she would be the one deciding which business their future family would open. A business where she would be in charge. And suddenly, in a single moment, this attractive future was thrown into doubt.
Then, the girl hinted to her mother about the possibility of breaking off the engagement. But her mother didn't want to listen to her daughter and even yelled at her and smacked her with a towel. She accused Alaya of being heartless, saying a future wife should support her husband in everything, regardless of any hardships. Maybe Alaya would have come to terms with everything, but that same day, they went to the caravan market with her mother. And there, while her mother was bargaining with Danr Quarti for the purchase of goods, Alaya was left alone with that same Quins who had told her half a year ago that he was not a merchant but a skilled assassin. Then, angered by her mother's reaction to the refusal to break off the engagement, she succumbed to temptation. At that moment, a plan formed in her head. She hinted to Quins that she wouldn't mind accepting his advances, but she was an honest girl, and since she was engaged, she couldn't do so. "Now, if something were to happen to this Aun Duan, whom I don't want to marry at all, but my mother insists...". Of course, she never planned to actually date some minor caravan trader; she intended to turn him in to the guards as soon as he dealt with her problem. Because, by then, she had firmly decided that being the wife of the son of the respected Ger Varti was much more advantageous than marrying the bankrupt younger Duan.
After listening to the erratic tale full of tears and feigned remorse from his beloved, Aun rose from his chair, bowed to Aunt Zian, and apologized to her for having such thoughts about her. Afterward, without saying goodbye, he left the house.
It's said that even a single additional straw can break the back of an overloaded camel. Alaya's tale became that straw that broke the young man.
The world lost all its colors for Aun. Every sound of the city merged into one intolerable cacophony for him, and the young man, slamming the door, went wherever his eyes led him. He walked without distinguishing either the road or direction. His head rang with the absolute void of shattered hopes and betrayed love.
He didn't even notice when his feet carried him past the city gates. The young man followed some caravan and kept walking. The world shrunk to a single point for him. He was consumed by complete prostration, burdened with depression and overall suppression. It seemed to Aun that Ain itself was against his happiness. That perhaps he was meant to die with his father, and such an outcome would have been the most proper, the most right. And the fact that he survived back then due to the intervention of someone who later called himself Raven was nothing more than a mistake.
After his father's death, the only thing that pushed the young man forward, made him not give up, were his thoughts about his beloved, about the sweet, tender, and kind Alaya. Thoughts that turned out to be mere illusions.
The sun passed its zenith, but the young man still trudged along the trade route, allowing himself to be overtaken by other travelers, and sometimes he himself passed slowly-moving overloaded caravans. This went on and on until one of the caravaners he met happened to be an acquaintance of his father. The man started questioning the youth, but since Aun didn't want to talk to anyone at all, he just turned off the road.
He turned and continued on, first through a field, then his feet led him to a barely noticeable path that meandered between hills. His journey was so long that by sunset, he reached the Border Ridge. Throughout his many-hour journey from the city, he stopped only once to drink water from a stream.
The young man's thoughts were so grave and gloomy that if not for the memory of his father, the faith his father had in the divine Elai, which forbids suicide, the boy would have taken his own life. Marching forward endlessly, at that moment, he was firmly convinced that he did not want to live. He didn't desire life. If a group of nomads suddenly emerged from behind the hill and killed him, he wouldn't even draw his dagger to defend himself. On the contrary, he would welcome such a death with a grateful smile.
The sun had already set, and his path was illuminated only by the full Seguna, but the young man kept walking forward. He trudged on, hoping to encounter nomads or, at the very least, a pack of wolves that would tear his miserable body apart and free him from the burden of life. This continued until a beast trail led him to a smooth rock wall hidden among the hills. On this rock shone the Sign of an open Iron-rank dungeon. However, the young man noticed the Sign only when he painfully bumped his forehead into the unexpected obstacle.
The youth looked up and read the Sign. A memory of his grandfather's words immediately surfaced in the emptiness of his mind: "I hope I'm destined to die with a weapon in my hands, not in a soft bed." For some reason, this particular memory gave Aun strength and a kind of irrational anger. The world seemed to suggest to him: "You wanted to die, but you didn't want to kill yourself, so here's the solution!"
Straightening his back, the young man pulled out a dagger from behind his belt and gripped it tightly in his hand.
His left hand touched the Dungeon's Sign. Before his mental gaze, an inscription lit up: "One of the twelve?"
"Yes," the young man whispered softly and stepped into the opening Gates...