Act I
Chapter IV
2nd Millennia of Pera Dunamis, Continent of Richten - 43rd of Highsun
“Please, stop!”
“But Yara having fun dress Leon.”
This is turning out to be more for entertainment than a serious task. As countless lines of different clothes, strange leathers, and armor pieces float above us, Khaz gulps his eleventh glass of the Skragling liquor then bellows with laughter. “Yara! Put him in the Kalmer dress again!”
Yara smirks, waving her staff to drunkenly transform me into an absurd outfit clearly meant for a female. Granted, the material feels silky smooth, comfortable for a nightgown.
“It has been close to twenty minutes!” I whine as Yara poofs me back into my swim trunks and cotton button-down. Khaz takes his twelfth glass and throws it at the Skragling.
“The child has had his fill.” Khaz signals Yara as he stands to his feet. He then puts his hands on my shoulders, his expression observant. “Yara, please bring the Leviathan leather armor and spare Lykogriff clothing for the young lad.” The giant leaves, tossing a coin-purse to Yara, who catches it midair with a magical sphere. “I am going to wait outside.”
The orb disappears as Yara lowers herself to me. “Yara enjoyed Leon’s company.” She coos, swinging her staff around me. The outline of my clothes glow before vanishing.
Squealing, I cover myself in embarrassment by the sudden draft of cool air running up my thighs. Before I can say anything, Yara conjures a tunic to shield my modesty. “You could have given me a heads-up.” I glare at the cat, who simply responds with an expression of amusement.
The gem at the end of her oak staff shines, materializing a small portal. A striking set of armor passes and a fur coat through, halting in front of me. “Yara thinks Leon is important to Khaz. Leviathan leather is rare. Lykogriff clothing is expensive.”
My gaze falls upon burgundy red scales intricately arranged in an overlapping pattern across all components of the gear, from the breastplate to the greaves. My fingers glide over the smooth, intricate designs and clawed accents, fascinated by the craftsmanship.
“This is for me?” I ask. The cat nods, furthering my appreciation for the strong shielding. Another item passes through the portal before it vanishes — a tiny band similar to the one she is wearing.
“Yara gifts you this ring. We use to make language same. May it serve you well in strange lands.” As I equip the ring, the Skragling skillfully fit the leather armor to my muscular physique. The cushioned padding made it comfortable and breathable despite the thick, hardened material. It almost feels like it’s still alive, molding and adapting to me. The soft coat itself is light even though it appears heavy. The hood resembles some sort of mysterious creature.
Equipped and ready, Yara and I walk to the thin veil through the passage once more. We enter a tiny shack resembling a kitchen with various ingredients organized in shelves. I look behind me to discover the walkway has vanished. I glance at Yara as she smiles, then leads me outside the caravan where Khaz and Gark are waiting. To my surprise, Serena and Aiden accompany them, no longer in their swimsuit attire.
“Well, you sure got an outfit change. Where’s mine?” Serena teases as she steps into my personal space to inspect my new armor. “No headgear?” She asks, toying with the hood of my fur coat.
“Eh, it didn’t come with one,” I reply, a shy smile spreading across my face as her dazzling light green eyes meet my own.
“In Richten, only those in power and authority reserve the act of donning armor with no helmet.” Khaz interjects, his gaze sweeping over the line of caravans behind us and the guards at the entrance. Out of everyone here, Khaz and I are the only ones without helmets. “I’ve discussed this with your companions. They will pose as merchant travelers alongside Yara. Only you and I will serve as elite guards.”
“What about Gark? Isn’t he Yara’s guard as well?” I ask, referencing the Gellox pulling Yara’s caravan.
In Richten, they view his kind as too bestial, primitive animals. I notice Gark stamping more heavily as his hooves crunches the ground. “I will lead. You are to learn.” Khaz strides back to the truck, likely to confer with Trent.
“Is he always like that?” Serena throws in obliviously, her bright eyes wide with curiosity. Before I can answer, she skips off to Gark, her attention flittering similar to a butterfly. Smiling at her casual attitude, I shift my focus to the entrance ahead.
As I approach the city gates, the massive cobblestone walls loom overhead, their ancient stones weathered but steadfast. Guard towers rise at regular intervals, each bristling with vigilant sentinels scanning the horizon. Soldiers patrol the area with disciplined precision, their armor glinting in the sunlight as they move in organized formations.
Ahead, a caravan lines up before the gates, where stern-faced guards diligently screen, inspect cargo, and question travelers. The hum of activity and occasional bark of orders fill the air, underscoring the city’s robust defense and the strict vigilance maintained at its threshold. I can’t help but feel a mix of awe and apprehension as I step closer, aware of the many eyes watching our every move.
“It has to be about four stories high,” Aiden remarks, walking up next to me, his expression mirroring my own fascination. “You seem to adjust quite well, Leon.” Despite his calm words, his hunched shoulders and slightly trembling legs betray his anxiety as he shifts from one foot to another
“Is that what it looks like?” I murmur, my gaze fixed on the ground. Chatting with Aiden reminds me of visions of him dying. Subconsciously, I clench my fist, as a sense of responsibility swells in my chest, ready to burst. “You know, I believe Serena is right. We really did get isekai’d.”
We both chuckle. The shared laugh eases his weak posture. “Sometimes, if she didn’t act like an airhead, I swear we would be so lost in our own thick skulls,” he says, laughing louder, while knocking on the side of his head to illustrate his hardened shell.
Out of nowhere, the sound of a horn reverberates through the air, followed by a sharp, piercing cry echoing above us. Capturing my attention, a group of knights atop enchanting creatures soar overhead before landing next to the gate. “Well, that’s one way to make an entrance.” Aiden comments, seeing his jaw slack with amazement. “Aren’t those griffins?”
“They are. Holy crud. Griffins are actually real?” My mind reels at the sight of mystical creatures standing before me. I notice all but one rider share the same armor. Actually, all five of them wore armor adorned with medals, except the leader, who isn’t wearing a helmet. I suppose the whole power-statement-thing isn’t a joke. The knights dismount from their mighty beasts and begin scanning the area until a soldier delivers a letter of some sort.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
A heavy hand tenderly rests on my shoulders, abruptly interrupting my admiration of the men and their mounts. “Follow.” Khaz said, striding towards the team of knights.
I tell Aiden to head back to the truck, noticing that our party is next in line. As I shadow Khaz, attempting to remain inconspicuous, I catch a glimpse of his great blade sheathed on his hip, flickering with small flames.
I stand back, watching Khaz approach a tall, imposing man in gleaming armor. His posture relaxes as he nears a rare sight. The man turns, and his stern expression melts into a wife grin. “Rodrick,” Khaz says, clapping the knight on the back. “It’s been too long.”
Rodrick chuckles, the sound of deep and hearty. “Too long indeed, old friend. What brings you to Drakenfell of Richten?”
Khaz succinctly explains our journey, and I can see the respect and camaraderie between them. Rodrick listens earnestly, nodding occasionally. I’m struck by his presence; he exudes authority and confidence, traits befitting a knight.
As they talk, I observe Rodrick’s appearance and notice that he wears finely crafted armor adorned with intricate designs and the emblem of his city. He wears it with ease, like a second skin. His eyes are sharp, missing nothing as they scan the field with its long line of caravans, always vigilant.
Their reunion is brief but heartfelt. They exchange a few words, their voices low and serious. I catch snippets of their conversation.
“How’s the rebellion?” Rodrick asks, his tone laden with concern.
Khaz sighs, a heavy sound that seems to carry the weight of the worlds. Rodrick’s expression hardens, and he places a comforting hand on Khaz’s shoulders. “We shall talk further inside. As usual, you and yours have access to castle grounds and the guest mansion.”
Khaz nods in acceptance. “Thank you, brother.”
Rodrick steps back, casting a scrutinizing glance over Khaz’s caravan. His eyes narrow as they fall on me, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he turns back to Khaz. “You know the drill, brother. Inspection is needed before entry to Drakenfell,” Rodrick says, his tone all business now.
“Of course. Do what you must, Rodrick.”
As Rodrick and his guards begin their inspection, I can’t help but wonder about the rebellion Khaz mentioned. What kind of world did he come from? And what kind of dangers are we about to face?
Khaz catches my eye and gives me a reassuring nod. “Worry not, Leon. Rodrick is the Sentinel Commander of Drakenfell, a good man. We’ll be inside the city soon enough.”
As I look back at the guards performing their duties, I glimpse an outline of a figure similar to what I saw earlier. Unsure of if my mind is playing tricks, I hesitate to inform Khaz.
After a thorough inspection, Rodrick returns to us, his expression softer. “Everything checks out. Welcome to Drakenfell. I’ll have one of my troop lead you to your quarters on castle grounds.”
The massive gates creak open, revealing the bustling city beyond. As we finally step through the massive iron gates of Drakenfell, I can’t help but marvel at the bustling city life unfolding before my eyes. The air is thick with the scents of exotic spices and roasted meats, mingling with the occasional whiff of incense. The sounds of merchants haggling, children laughing, and the steady rhythm of blacksmiths’ hammers create a symphony of urban vitality.
Everywhere I look, different kinds of people and races mingle together. Humans walking side by side with Lizardmen whose scales shimmer in the sunlight, different Beastmen with their imposing statures and furred bodies, and even the occasional Elf, their ethereal presence adding an air of mystery to the crowd.
From the gate, a clear path stretches out before us, a main road paved with smooth, dark stones that leads straight to the heart of the city. There, rising majestically above the sea of buildings, stands the regal castle of Drakenfell. Its tall spires and sturdy battlements are a testament to its ancient strength and grandeur.
“Guys, look!” Serena exclaims, pointing out griffins in flight with their mounted knights. Beasts as majestic as griffins will never cease to amaze me. Looking back, I notice that the entire group is outside with Khaz and me, including Trent and Caden.
“Good to see you getting some air.” I say to Trent, patting my fist on his chest. “Where’s your truck?”
“Yara is towing it with her caravan.” Trent responds, pointing to the four-ton vehicle hoisted behind Yara. The Skragling smiles at us while she casts a spell on Gark, her Gellox, who is struggling to carry the additional weight. A small red orb shoots from her staff, alighting on her mighty mule. He turns red before becoming energized, effortlessly pulling the wagon and the extra tow.
I glimpse Caden out of the corner of my eye. His posture is poor, shoulders hunched and head down, exuding the lack of confidence. He stays near Aiden and Serena, almost like he’s trying to hide between them. I can see the nervousness in his eyes, darting around as if expecting danger at any moment. The contrast between his timid demeanor and the vibrant energy of the surrounding city couldn’t be starker. I make a note to talk to him later, hoping to bolster his confidence. We’re family, after all.
Before we depart, Khaz steps forward, clearing his throat. He gestures to the young knight standing beside him. “Everyone, this is Aldrich,” Khaz announces. “Rodrick has assigned him to be our attendant during our stay in Drakenfell.”
Aldrich steps forward, his blue armor gleaming in the sunlight, and gives a confident nod. His bright eyes can see our group, and a friendly smile spreads across his face. “It’s an honor to meet you all,” he says, his voice warm and welcoming. “I hope to serve you well, and share my home with you.”
I notice the way his gaze lingers on each of us, taking in our varied appearances. He has to be around our age, yet there’s a certain steadiness in his demeanor, a confidence that inspires me. “Thank you, Aldrich,” I say, stepping forward to shake his hand. “I’m Leon. We look forward to working with you.”
Aldrich’s grip is firm, and his smile widens. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“Yeah, thanks Aldry!” Serena steps in, taking after my ease. She looks to the others, gesturing them to come. “C’mon, guys.” The boys look at each, then come forward to introduce themselves one by one.
With introductions complete, Aldrich turns and leads the way down the main road. As we follow, I glance back at our group. Trent and Aiden exchange curious looks, Serena nudges Caden, whispering with enthusiasm, and Khaz walking alongside Yara’s caravan with a sense of purpose.
Aldrich’s pride in his home is clear as he leads us through the city. He points out various landmarks and recounts tales of Drakenfell’s history with a fervor that is both infectious and endearing.
“This here,” Aldrich says, gesturing to a towering statue of an archer accompanied by a warrior and a mage in the town square, “is General Malkor, who defended Drakenfell from one of the seven demon dragon’s raids a century ago.” Examining the intricately engraved stone, I notice a familiar face standing next to Malkor.
“Khaz, is that you?” I exclaim in realization. The old giant nods, indifferent to my positive reaction. Khaz eyes seem to scan the town square, as if weary of something. “Something wrong,” I ask quietly, having a sense of what he may be looking for. He shakes his head and moves back to Yara and Gark, dismissing my concern.
We continue our way through the lively city, noting how the people of Drakenfell interact with genuine camaraderie. Street performers entertain passersby with feats of magic and acrobatics, while shopkeepers invite us to sample their wares with welcoming smiles. The closer we came to the center of the city, the less apparent that became.
Eventually, we arrive at the castle grounds, where the grandeur of the major structure is even more imposing up close. Aldrich guides us through the imposing, lavishly decorated gates and led to the guest mansion. The mansion itself is a sprawling structure of polished stone and finely carved wood, surrounded by meticulously maintained gardens that are in full bloom.
“I will stay in the guard’s quarters in the mansion with you,” Aldrich says, helping us unpack our gear from Trent’s truck. “So, this is what you call a truck? Trent has only told me tales. It’s as large as a Rodrick’s griffin.”
“Oh? Trent has only told you tales?” Aiden vocalizes. Everyone and I, except for Khaz, turn their heads to scrutinize Trent, our eyes burning into Trent’s being.
“Questions can wait until supper. The suns are setting soon, and we need to get ourselves comfortable.” Khaz interjects.
They nod. I notice the firelight reflecting in their eyes. At this moment, I feel a bond stronger than ever before. We're not just a group of friends; we're a team, united by our quest for answers and the promise of what lies ahead.