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Tales of Starlight
Chapter 2: The Pathfinders

Chapter 2: The Pathfinders

The Pathfinders was not an organization to be messed with.

About 300 years ago, when humanity first founded its future in the Citadel of Hope, it had not always been so peaceful within the walls… the government did its best to keep the peace and order on Earth, but when a government loses the power to protect its people, laws become blurry.

So… people had to fight for themselves.

Humanity had to fight for its right to live. The strength of absolute power was the only thing that mattered when faced with the battle for survival.

Fighting was a losing battle. Humanity was on its last leg. They had already lost much of their desire to fight by the time the remnants of humanity found the gateway to this realm.

But fighting was what had to be done. The Castle, held within the inner walls of the great Citadel of Hope, and where the gateway led them to, was already occupied.

A vicious beast had made a nest in the throne room, close to the gateway, and immediately killed the first explorers of the realm…

So… the next dozen people were sent through, those picked for their special qualities rather than exploratory enthusiasm, who entered the gateway and were forced to fight an impossible battle.

This only grew their renown. They were already known for being Starlit, humans who manifested the ability to possess seemingly inhuman and unnatural powers.

The casualties of that battle would be better described as a massacre… yet humanity again prevailed.

The survivors of that battle, the Starlit, alongside mundane people, slowly took possession of the fortified castle of Hope, and expanded their control through countless bloodshed over the next 20 years, section by section, to the full perimeter of the inner wall.

However, Hope is made up of two rings of walls. The inner wall, which protects the castle and a small district… and the outer wall… which protected the seemingly massive city that surrounds the edges of the inner wall.

Humanity’s next step, naturally, was to attempt a conquest of the outer city. Time and time again we tried, but never made it past a quarter of the way to the outer wall before they would have to retreat.

That was because of attrition.

The city below was just too large, too much area for a weakened humanity to claim. They would seize control of a block, fighting the weaker beasts that nested in the city, and then become weaker as time went on from the grueling punishment of conquest.

The beasts were too strong for a mundane human to kill alone, so a team was required to kill a single one, and while generally mindless, they were strong enough to view even groups of people as a food source.

The only humans with the bravery and strength to face beasts like these alone and live were those that were Starlit.

… Along with the Pathfinders.

The Pathfinders were initially a ragtag group of two formed during the conquest of the inner wall. They consisted of 2 of the initial starlit survivors of the battle for the castle for a while, who promised to clear a path for humanity using their power.

Being not only notable survivors of that massacre, but also its victors, mundane humans with a desire to fight joined them, bringing the group to a point where they had great power and influence in the foundling politics within Hope.

They were incredibly helpful at first, they wanted the same thing everybody wanted, for humanity to thrive once again.

However, their ideas for how that would come to be was the determining factor in their fate. Their ideas were tainted and radical, even for a time when humanity was at its darkest. People did not flinch at death nearly as often, but their suggestions gave even the hardened survivors a fright.

He thought they even attempted a coup once…

So… the small group was called to disband, its members to merge with the government, becoming soldiers, and those that refused were forced to leave the safety of the castle, and exiled into the untamed city of Hope beyond the inner wall. At a time before it was conquered, it was the same as a death sentence.

After another year, most who were exiled died. However, some didn’t… and those who didn’t were revered as proof of the possibility of humanities comeback.

They were offered sanctuary within the walls as the punishments for their radical ideas were thought of as served by the population… and what they endured now as meaningless pain.

So it was a shock when they refused… sticking to the name Pathfinder. And when humanity finally, over the course of another hundred years conquered the entire Citadel of Hope, from the castle to its outer perimeter wall, they eventually moved outside of Hope, and into the untamed wilderness of Eden. They would come into the city rarely, relaying information of the outside world and recruiting new members, but most often they would keep to themselves…

Asterion blatantly stared at the wind rose sigil on one of the swords, stumped on what to say that would not end with them using the same sword on him.

‘Radical zealots, really? This day just gets worse and worse.’

One of the men, noticing where he was staring, chuckled.

“Looks like this fool got lost while looking at a compass.” He gestured at the hilt, “What, never seen one before?”

Regaining control, Asterion glanced at each of the three men, and in the nicest tone he could muster while concealing his own fear, spoke.

“Hello, I understand you are having a good time, but please do not become disruptive to the other patrons by being too loud.”

The silence that followed from the table was deafening. The noise of the surrounding patrons cascaded through, amplifying the silence.

The three men simply stared at Asterion.

Asterion, meanwhile, immediately averted his gaze to the table, but could still see the three out of the corner of his eye.

His stomach growled…

‘The things I do for food…’

After what felt like an eternity, first man’s eyes darkened. He could have sworn he saw his left hand twitch, as if his mind was preparing his hands to give a beating.

‘Preferrably a beating and not to cut me instead.’ He thought.

Then, a gout of laughter came from the other two, breaking the silence and looking at the first man.

Asterion’s nerves settled. If the men thought it was humorous, maybe they wouldn’t break the thing they thought was funny…?

‘Oh thank god…’

“Yeah! Settle down Brandon!” The second man said.

‘Oh no.’ Asterion thought, his blood chilled much more.

The third man chimed in:

“Brandon, if you don’t shut up, this frail idiot here is going to mess you up, and I won’t stop him!”

The first man, named Brandon… did not move his eyes from Asterion’s the entire time. Instead, they turned from a simple annoyed glance, into a death glare.

‘This is not good…’

Just when the tension reached its peak, another female worker came and saved the day, stepping in from behind.

“Boys, I appreciate your choosing this bar to relax, but your getting a little rowdy if you could please keep it a little lower. Thanks. Asterion, I need you with me.” She said, pulling Asterion’s arm away from the table.

Not wanting to be there any longer than he had to, Asterion let her drag him back toward the kitchen.

looking back once he was nearly out of view. The two men cracking jokes smirked at the first, who had a look of irritation permeated on his face.

Once behind adequate cover and a short distance away, she continued, smiling.

“I noticed you were a tad fearful just to tell a table to quiet down, what’s up?”

A bit flustered, Asterion rubbed his face with his hand. “Was it noticeable…?”

She grinned. “Not at all.”

Not believing a single word in her response, Asterion motioned back to the table, now out of view.

“I think they are Pathfinders… and I don’t have a death wish.”

She moved to take another look at the three men, and turned back to Asterion.

“Pathfinders, huh? I doubt it. They’re usually more loud about their affiliation. I’ve seen pathfinders before in the street recruiting, and those do not look like them. Besides, they’re leaving.”

Asterion’s eyes widened.

“What? But they haven’t paid yet!”

He turned back around to the large room in a panic, only to see the last of the men walk out the door of the tavern.

Moving toward the door to confront them, he pushed past several people, but stopped short. His rational confronting his emotions.

‘What if they are pathfinder’s?’

From the short display of hostility for asking them to quiet down, he had a slight inkling they would be less kind for demanding payment for food.

But… if he didn’t… his wages—the food he was working to earn—would be taken as compensation instead.

He had a tough decision to make.

To go outside, confront three men with weapons, who were possibly radical zealots… one of which, already giving him the impression they prefer him dead, and demand payment from them… by himself.

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Or to work for free the rest of the night and starve.

The decision… was actually not that difficult to make.

Looking dejected, Asterion turned back toward the bar to let the boss know of the walk out.

She was not pleased. Being an establishment owner in the market district was a tough calling that demanded a backbone. Being a tavern owner was even more difficult.

So… she was less than kind to everyone involved.

Asterion was forced to work the rest of the night, and told he would have to come in the next day as well.

For free.

Asterion paled at the consequences, standing there with a glazed look within his eyes.They were even more severe than he imagined they would be.

He knew he would go hungry. That, he was used to. Hunger was just something normal to people like him. However, not getting food for two days was a torturous endevour. One he had not experienced in a long time. The last time he did, he promised himself he wouldn’t ever allow it to happen again.

He would have merely gone someplace else instead, but he knew how the system worked. The places around the market district worked together to combat theft and mistreatment. He had seen it work on others before him.

If he tried, they would refuse him work until his debt to the establishment was paid, so he would not be able to earn food elsewhere.

Now dejected, Asterion turned back to his work in an attempt to get the punishment over with. It was the least he could do to forget about the growing hunger he experienced.

The knowledge that he was paying the price for food he never ate while simultaneously being hungry was sanity chipping.

As the work day ended, Asterion was feeling incredibly bad about himself. The thought of stopping to talk to the other workers who got to eat a meal in the now empty tavern was gut wrenching.

So, he made himself scarce before he could see it.

Opening the wooden door to the restaurant, the windchill bit harder now that the sun had set and light was gone. People lit the fueled candles in front of their stores, lighting up the market district with the flickering residue of small flames. The peppering snowflakes had turned a bit harsher in the six or so hours he worked, covering the stone below in a carpet of snow before stopping.

Of course, the tiles that made up the streets of the large marketplace were damp from the foot traffic eroding the snow layer, making it a dirtier journey.

Standing outside the tavern, Asterion, feeling like he had just lost a terrible battle with his pride, began walking the streets toward his next destination.

‘Food… then shelter.’

Losing out on food was unfortunate, pained even more by the fact that he had already assumed he would be sleeping that night on a full stomach.

He was hungry, yes, but he was more than capable of enduring the feeling. He was not an animal.

The pain of not eating, however, would come tomorrow if he did not find another way to eat. His body would find substitute methods of energy if he did not in the form of the fat reserves he had.

Except… he didn’t have any.

Asterion was frighteningly frail. He had been an orphan for years at this point, struggling to find a reliable source of food the entire time. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

So… his body would find energy from consuming his muscle instead.

‘It’s just a temporary feeling…’

Walking the snow-lined stone tiles between the shops, he moved slow, trying not to make his body work too hard to get to his destination. The more he moved, the worse he felt the emptiness in his stomach.

Passing the shops that lined the street, watching the restaurants that were still open feeding guests, a rising feeling of anger lingered. He was upset with himself. Not only had he failed to secure food for the night, but he was being punished for something he didn’t even do.

The shops continued to glow from their windows, the heat from the inside fires warming fallen snow on the surrounding them into a small stream that ran down the street as Asterion watched.

He moved his gaze up toward the inner wall. He wondered what the sprawling city of Hope looked like from the castle. He thought the castle looked massive from where he stood, the lights lining the parapets and shining through the windows, highlighting the figure of an impregnable fortress overshadowing both the inner wall and the city. But compared to the city, it was actually relatively small, just on higher ground.

He would never get such a fate, though. He knew it, too.

He sighed.

The streets were emptier now that light had faded. The temperature dropped too. It was beginning to get cold.

“I need to get to the shelter soon…” he muttered, under his breath.

Moving toward the outskirts of the marketplace, he found himself back at the wider perpendicular street that marked its boundary. Walking across was no challenge now that the sun had set and most people had gone home.

Finding the government run shelter, he made his way to the female attendant with the log sheet at the front desk to assign himself a bed.

He began, “Hello. I would li—“

“Sorry, we’re all out of beds. You should have come earlier, it’s the start of winter you know?” The attendant said, with a hint of distain.

Asterion’s heart dropped.

‘She can’t be serious…?’

Winter put a strain on the available beds, but he had never experienced its effect this early into the season.

“A-are you sure?” He asked.

Without moving her eyes from him, she responded, flat toned.

“Very.”

“But you didn’t even look…?” He retorted.

With a heavy sigh, she dramatically rolled her eyes then looked down, widening her eyes when they met the paper below her, before looking back up to meet Asterion’s.

“Still nothing.” She said.

He began to feel that rising anger from before surge within him. Asterion was not having a good day. It started when he was brutally shoved to the floor, continued with him being punished and made to pay for three meals he didn’t eat, and now it’s ending without the warmth of proper shelter.

He would have to find a place warm enough to survive the night. Maybe an abandoned building or a alleyway. It would be uncomfortable, and he probably wouldn’t sleep at all. But he would live.

The anger must have shown on his face, because the next words out of the attendants mouth were not directed towards him, but behind him… to a man he had not noticed before.

“He’s getting aggressive.” She said shortly.

“What? No I’m not!” He responded defensively.

The man, meanwhile, moved and grabbed Asterion, before yanking him out the door and throwing him to the stone street floor.

Being malnurished had its downsides…

“Argh!” He bellowed in pain, groaning for a few seconds.

The fall was not easier than the first one he endured that day.

Laying down on his back, now wet and cold from the residue of snow, he looked up at the sky in defeat.

Asterion felt hollow. He felt down, he felt dread.

He felt rage.

Watching the black sky was soothing, but it did nothing to quell the blazing fire he had inside him. He wanted to get revenge on everyone. The guard who punched him down… the three men who skipped their tab… the person who just assaulted him.

He was upset with them all.

But not just them. He was also angry with himself. For his own failures... he failed to feed himself. He failed to get himself somewhere warm… he failed to find work that pays him in actual money, instead of working for food. He failed to succeed as an orphan…

He failed to grow strong.

He was the appitome of failure. He didn’t need to be told that. He knew it, deep down. It was always there. It just rarely manifested this harshly and this close together.

Realizing this, the rage that flowed within him dimmed into a pitiful self loathing. He moved his arm to pillow his head in the street, twitching slightly.

‘Ah… still hurts.’

He stayed there for a bit, not only because it hurt to move, but also because he didn’t want to… a few people passed him, looking at the young frail boy laying in the wet street with a hint of concern, but nobody bothered him.

Where else was there for him to go? There were no shelters elsewhere, the government didn’t have the resources to manage two shelters properly when it couldn’t even supply one.

Deep loathing was the only thing on his mind. He was used to having less, and he was accepting of that, he would make due with it. That was life, after all… to make due with what you have.

‘But why does it have to feel so aweful?’

After looking at the sky for a while, Asterion finally felt it necessary to move. The pain had subsided for the most part, and the chill was biting, with now his wet back eating at him, as well.

“This sucks.” He muttered.

Inching up, he used his arms to prop himself up to his feet, before continuing down the street.