The trio continued their trek through the silent plain of the Land of Legions. Through similar wreckage and ruined settlements, the story and tale seemed to be the same—all except for one.
In the distance, a wooden settlement dared to resist the empty devastation of the Land of Legions. Nestled between two grassy hills a great wooden palisade protected the humble peasant camp.
Three smokestacks blew from its four thatched roofs. Atop the palisades, figures guarded the entrance of the hills.
“A settlement!” Griff said as the wizard pointed to the smokestacks.
“Maybe they can help us,” Fiona completed as the trio hastened their pace towards civilization.
The trio approached the gates to find a human atop them. He was dressed in poor peasant clothing and wielded a crossbow.
“Halt! Who goes there?” He asked.
“We're travelers and we were hoping you could help us and give us some accommodations,” Thalon asked eloquently.
The peasant shook in place as his eyes darted towards the hills beyond his camp. He gave a quick glance to them and then back to his own home. “Huh, I would love to help you strangers, but right now isn't a good time. You should leave, for your own safety.”
“Is that a threat?” Griff asked from behind the wizard, sounding equally insulted and curious.
“More of a warning, from one kin to another.” As the peasant guard finished, a strange clicking and sponge-like voice emerged from behind the palisades.
“Marco! Who's out there?”
As the figure emerged, the guard stood to attention and saluted the mushroom person.
“A jeru,” Thalon said in awe.
“Sir, Eren Sir,” Marco the Guard said as he saluted the jeru.
He was as tall as the guard and wore an orange-brown tunic and brown skirt that let the jeru's four pointy spider-like legs freely move about.
His head, like all jerus, was adorned by his species’ large mushroom cap that protected jerus from the elements and housed their central neural web.
Below the jeru’s cap and right above his large eyes however, the trio could see a pair of jeru-made miner goggles. Going diagonally from shoulder to waist, the wizard spotted a purple sash.
“These travelers were requesting to stay the night, Eren, sir.” Marco said with an unmoving resolve.
“What are you waiting for then? Go open the gate before —” The command from the jeru superior was cut short as a strange metallic horn sounded in the distance. “Ah, schist. Too late now. Hide!” the jeru captain said to the wizard and his companions.
“What was that? What’s happening?” the wizard asked.
“Hide! There's no time to explain!” the jeru said. The trio began to move and look for any place to hide as the sound of approaching footsteps and galloping became ever louder.
However, as they circled the palisade, they couldn't find any place to hide in the vast open field.
The wizard, monk and fernian became surrounded by an incredibly coordinated and fast-moving army of kin in matching breastplates, helmets and weapons.
The kin in legionary armor and wielding shorts words, scutum shields, and crossbows on their back surrounded the travelers and held them in place.
“Don't attack them, easy there friends,” Thalon said as he held Griff and Fiona's hands. The army began to encircle them against the palisade.
“Raising your weapons to a man of faith, you legionaries should be ashamed of yourselves,” Griff shouted to the legionaries who eyed the bookish monk with suspicion.
“Shiny but pointy,” Fiona mused as she looked at their iron swords with awe and fear.
Suddenly, the trio saw a single rider break through the legion. Their ranks opened to reveal to a human atop a brown and black-spotted stallion.
The rider wore a splendid set of chest armor, decorated with various reliefs and symbols, tailored with a chrome silver color and golden outline. Around his neck he wore an elegant and imposing bright red cloak. Above the rider’s older facial features was what looked like a legionary helmet, but it was much more intricate and had atop it red plumage that matched the cloak.
“Captain Eren!” the rider said as he stopped outside the palisade. The entire legion now surrounded the village and its two hills.
“Bracari Marius. What's with the small scouting party today? Afraid I'm gonna kill your next Legatus again?” the mushroom said with a mocking tone as he grabbed his crossbow from behind his back.
The rider gave an awkward laugh. “My friend, you and I know I don't need my full bracaria to take your village. I could easily do it right now.”
“You even try to raise your hand to give the order and I'm cleaning it right off from your arm,” the jeru said as he pointed his crossbow to the bracari. As he did, all of the legionaries did the same and pointed theirs at the captain atop the palisade.
“You would do that? You would break your friends’ hearts and leave them without a leader?” the bracari said in a mocking tone.
“I taught them well. They can survive without me. Tell me again what happened last month when you tried to invade us?” the jeru said as from behind the palisade the villagers all began to throw dozens of legionary helmets to the outside of the palisade.
The helmets showered and hit the legionaries as they raised their scutum shields and slowly began to back away as the helmets pilled outside to the palisade.
The bracari sighed as the noise of the clinking metal stopped and as he looked down, he asked, “Clearly it would have been a waste to raid your settlement. No, I'm not here to conquer. I come here as a friend, Eren.”
“Just because I don't have a nose, don't think I can't smell your crap. Get lost, Marius.”
“Eren, Eren, Eren. My friend, think about it. Your talents are being wasted here. I'm not saying you need to accept it now—just think about it for a few days. I could use a jeru like yourself. I'll make you my new Legatus and promise to put your village under my legion’s protection. It would be a much better position for a former Captain of the Obsidian Guard than just wasting away in a poor peasant village,” he said, looking to the jeru with a pleading tone.
“I'll think about it. Now leave,” the Captain said as he continued to hold his crossbow steady to the bracari’s head.
“You have three days, my friend. If you don't accept within then . . . Well, we can't have the other bracari come here and make you a better offer now, can we? You will be coming, one way or another. Doesn't matter if you can take down a legion or two. I would like to see how fast you can unload those bolts when you have a full bracaria crushing down on you.” The bracari finished before he turned around and began to gallop away in the horse.
Before he was out of earshot, the mushroom shouted, “You won't find out if you are the first one to get hit!”
“Sir! We have found three stragglers outside the palisade,” a cind centuri said as he approached the bracari and gave an imperial salute.
“Getting sloppy now, are we old friend? Shackle them. Maybe it will help that fungus bastard make up his mind,” the bracari said as he issued his commands and began to gallop away to the front of his army as he led them away.
“Thalon! Do something!” Griff yelled to Thalon as the legionaries approached and attempted to shackle and bind the magic casters.
“Pointy Hat! They are hurting me!” Fiona yelled as she and Griff backed away against Thalon.
“Let me think, let me think,” Thalon said, holding Griff and Fiona close to him. The stomping of the legionaries’ feet inched ever closer to them. Sunlight glinted from their armor and shields towered high above the trio.
Thalon felt the encroaching darkness from the shields blocking the sunlight above him. He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and let his instincts and faith in the word of power save him.
An ancient feeling surged from deep within him as he loudly proclaimed to the skies. “Parhon!”
The words echoed among the legions as the wizard shouted. He firmly held his companions’ hands and, to the shock of all the soldiers, the trio fell to the ground, their bodies hardened. All three had turned to stone and now formed a single connected statue.
From atop the palisade, the fungi captain was still watching the retreating legions. As he witnessed the transformation of the wizard and his companions to stone, he merely said, “What?”
The same thought echoed within the legionaries’ minds. Some of them tried to stab the stone, only to have their swords chipped away in the unnaturally strong mineral.
“Don't just stand there! Get them!” a patroli said to the legionaries with a whipping of encouragement as a handful of legionaries began to lift the statue. They had placed it atop their shields and, under orders, began to carry away the strange work of art.
Finally, the last of the legionaries walked away and Captain Eren and his village were left again with the unnatural silence of the war-torn land.
“Well, that was . . . something,” Marco said as he finally lowered his crossbow and placed it back down next to the palisade.
“Come along, Marco, no one’s gonna show up for today. I need to drink something,” the Captain said as he swung his crossbow by its strap and placed it behind his back.
The peasant guard sighed as he followed the captain and he too began to descend into the village.
Down in the humble dirt of the Twin Hill village, the mass of peasants, all three hundred of them, looked in attention as their Captain's spiky feet hit the ground.
“Eren! Will they come back?” A white-haired human peasant asked as a fire of defiance permeated his entire being.
“Not today. As long as they don't know their buddies are here they won't,” Eren said. He walked toward the dozens of tied and gagged legionaries who sat next to various wooden stakes in the center of the village.
The jeru mercenary’s arm emerged from his body’s natural socket and a human legionary recoiled as he felt the spongy fungi extremity brushing against his red hair.
“It's already bad enough they want to conquer us. Now we have to feed these mongrels too. We should just kill them and be done with it,” A female cind peasant proclaimed, her snake-like intonation reverberating through the crowd as the heterogeneous masses began to nod and gossip in agreement.
“No!” the jeru captain's voice echoed in the village and the villagers quieted. “This land has already seen too much blood. I will not allow another single droplet to touch these grounds. That's final!” The silence of the Land of Legions fell upon the village as they watched their guardian. None dared to speak, save for one.
The loyal spotter, Marco, stepped forward, his short brown hair flowing with the wind. He set himself between Eren and the peasants. “Eren's right,” he said. “We are better than the legions. We will survive without shedding a single drop of blood.”
One by one, the humble masses broke through the silence and raised their voices in agreement with the resolve of their leader.
“Aye.”
“Not a single drop!”
“We'll show these legion dogs how it’s done.”
The captain took his loyal spotter’s hand, standing up to look him in the eyes. “Thanks, Marco.”
“Always a pleasure, sir,” he said with a hint of pride before he looked back to the crowd. “Alright everyone, we're safe now,” he commanded. “Everyone back to your work.” The crowd began to disperse until the lone jeru mercenary stood in the center of the village, accompanied only by the restrained prisoners.
The sky was mostly clear. A few clouds of doubt dared to obscure the mercenary’s foresight, but his purpose and intent were absolute.
He gazed for longer than usual at the vast blue sky. Only a single marker obstructed that immaculate cobalt infinity: The Holy Palace.
Over the hills and far away, closer than his distant subterranean homeland, the holy mountain dared to break the perfect sky.
He scoffed at the gods that no jeru in Vaelia had ever loved or worshiped, forgotten as they were in the depths of their mountain home. Still, he smiled as he realized the small palace in the distance seemed minuscule when compared to the vast infinity that surrounded it.
He chuckled and said to himself, “If only the caves were this free.”
“Enjoying the day, Eren?” an elderly human with a white beard and hair asked as he moved his staff and walked towards the brooding mercenary. His ragged peasant clothes left a trail of dirt and dust as he swatted himself after a long day's work.
“Elder Lucian,” Eren said, saluting the old human.
“Aw, you can stop that. Maybe I should be the one to salute you instead, Captain of the Obsidian Brotherhood.” The elderly man feigned a half-hearted salute of his own.
The mushroom frowned at the title. “Not anymore, elder. Those days are now behind me.” He gazed to the distant plains where scattered smokestacks broke through the sky.
“I still don't understand,” The elder said, scratching his chin. “Why would a jeru, a Captain of the famed Obsidian mercenary company, choose to retire here out of all places? You could have gone to Goldswill with the amount of Aurelian you got.”
“Former Captain,” the mercenary said sternly. He looked down with a sigh. “I spent all of my life in the service of the Obsidian Brotherhood. I just . . . grew tired of all the bloodshed.”
“That still doesn't explain why you choose to settle here, in this land overflowing with blood,” the human prodded as he began to lean on his gnarled wooden staff.
“I . . .” The jeru was at a loss for words, but as he stared at the sky he recomposed himself. “I want to stop the bloodshed.” He turned to face the human elder. “Years in service of the Obsidian brotherhood have taught me that, in the end, violence doesn't solve anything. It only brings more violence.”
The Elder smiled and gave an approving nod as the pacifist mercenary continued.
“I realized, perhaps a bit too late, that the only way to stop this endless violence is to simply refuse to take part in it. To direct our swords, not at other kin, but to fields in settlements like this one,” the jeru said as a smile began to form under the shade of his natural mushroom cap.
The elder lowered his head, the sun shadowing his eyes under his hat's wide brim. A simple smile spread across his face as he said with a strange, ominous tone, “Wise words, my jeru friend. But you still have much to see and learn.”
The mushroom raised what in humans and other kin would be his eyebrow, and he asked, “Is that a threat or a wise elderly warning?”
Lucian laughed at the pacifist’s words. “I guess I will leave you to find out, my friend. In any case, that legion will come back. How do you intend to defend our home without violence then?”
A determined look set itself upon the former mercenary as he grabbed the strap of his crossbow and looked into the distance. “I will stop them before they even come here . . . and maybe save those three outsiders too.”
A hopeful ray of light shone down on the former captain as the human elder approached the jeru. “You are an ambitious one, Eren. There's just one thing you mustn't forget.” He placed his hand upon the mushroom's shoulder and he said with a strange, otherworldly inflection, “It's never too late to stop cruelty.”
A strange rush flowed through the mushroom pacifist. Behind the words from the elder, Eren could almost hear strange whispers of an unknown word.
“Parhon, parhon, parhon.” The high-pitched droning entered his audible membrane and spread itself throughout his spongy body, eventually climbing up his nervous web as it reached his cap and brain.
Eren felt a surge of power and confidence raising through him and as he looked back to the Elder with a newfound fire in his eyes he nodded in silence.
In return, the Elder smiled and patted him in the back. “Don't get killed.” Lucian turned around and began walking to his field. As he did, the mushroom captain simply looked off into the gate as the peaceful skies blessed him from above with their freedom.
“I don't plan to.”
“Eren!” Marco the spotter called to his friend as he saw him opening the gates of the village. “Where are you going?”
Some peasants stopped their work and stared as the former captain opened the locks of the wooden gate.
“I'm going to stop Marius from coming back. Maybe I’ll save those three outsiders too,” he said as a fire burned within him.
“I'm coming with you then!” the young human spotter said, grabbing his crossbow.
The mushroom mercenary quickly glanced back to his friend and as the words registered in his cap he warned him, “No! I have to do this alone, Marco. I need you to stay here in case something happens to me.”
The possibility of his friend disappearing rang throughout the young spotter. With a wavering voice he asked, “What do you mean if something happens to you? How will we defend ourselves without you?”
The captain stopped in his tracks at the words of his protégé. He held on to the wooden handle of the gate and as the sun shone above him, he slowly turned back to his friend and spoke with a reassuring—if still clicking—fungal accent.
“Marco. You and everyone in this village have already exceeded all of my expectations,” he said as he glanced to the tied legionaries in the town square. “The legions wish their legionaries were even half as good as you all have proven yourselves to be in these last few years. In all my time, I have never met any kin that were as loyal, professional and spirited as you all are, even in the Obsidian Brotherhood.” The peasants of the village listened in attention as their guardian and protector spoke of them. Tears began to form as the young human spotter heard his mentor’s praise.
“I know that if something happens to me, you'll be able to protect yourselves.” He approached Marco and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. “Especially, you, Marco. If I ever had a son, I wish he had even half the character you have.”
Tears began to flow from the spotter as he tried his best to keep his back straight. He asked, wiping them with his sleeve. “Eren. Permission to hug, sir?”
A faint smile crossed the mushroom’s face. “Permission granted.”
The spotter hugged his spongy fungal mentor. The mushroom captain looked back to his protege before he prepared to leave. “Remember what I taught you,” he said.
“Aim for their arms and knees,” the spotter finished as the mushroom grabbed his crossbow.
“That's right. Try to avoid any senseless killing. We have enough of that already.” The wooden gate finally lay open as the uncomfortable silence of the Land of the Legions greeted the idealistic mushroom captain.
“Please, be careful Eren,” Marco said one last time as the peasants gathered in the gate to see their friend off.
The captain looked back and with a confident smile he said, “I always am.”
Amid waves and goodbyes, the mushroom walked through trampled green fields. As the wind carried with it the noise of the great wooden gate being shut, he looked to the sky, armed his crossbow, and hoped no blood would need to be shed today.
The wind blew over the bracaria's camp. In the grassy plain, hundreds of tents were lined up together. In their formation, they housed the thousands of Legionaries of Mariuses Bracaria.
A string of wooden palisades, ditches, and caltrops surrounded the camp and protected it from enemy bracarias. From the temporary fort. the sounds of training legionaries, weapons being sharpened, and carpentry filled the peaceful skies. An easterly breeze carried the cacophony of the military camp to a small grove where a lonely but determined jeru ex-mercenary stood atop the tree branches and surveyed the enemy camp.
His fungal gaze betrayed him as he squinted his optical membranes and tried to make sense of the misshapen orange hazes far away in the distance.
He cursed his natural features, frowning as he said to himself, “Stupid cave-vision. I can’t see anything that far away with this sunlight.”
He tried to focus instead on the legionaries’ metal armor. The forged iron highlighted itself to the jeru as his eyes naturally prioritized the identification of rare metals of Vaelia.
“Found you, you bastard,” he said to himself as he took notice of the highly decorated breastplate worn by the distant orange blob.
In the sea of iron and metal, the bracari's armor practically screamed to the jeru's instincts, its iron armor reinforced with scattered hints of bronze and brass and topped with a fine detail of Gold on the edges.
The ex-captain followed attentively as the commanding bracari breastplate in the distance moved about the camp, issuing orders and commands to other poorer suits of armor. He wondered if he should begin moving now. But as his mind pondered, a strange light caught his attention.
As he looked to one of the supply tents of the bracari camp, he saw the strange three outsiders in its center, still stuck in their petrified form. The oddest thing about it was that he could see them clearly. There was no hazy fog or blob; despite the distance, they were as clear as the walking suits of armor.
The oddest thing about it was the strange light emanating from the trio. He recognized that light, or at least he thought he did.
It was a resplendent mixture of various hues of yellow, orange, and red. The texture and color suggested to the jeru that deep within the three statues were a sorted mess of precious stones: Citrine, Amber, and Ruby. They all called to him, but the flowing of the light and the way it moved suggested it was a metal. His neural web tried to make sense of it all as the promise of Gold, Copper and Quartz called to him.
The light clashed and moved about in the three statues. Even from a distance, it was mesmerizing. The jeru had spent such a long time with the surface kin that he had nearly forgotten the song and voice of the rocks. As he stared at the chaotic soup of light, amidst the garble and nonsense, he could almost make something that looked like a word.
“Pa . . .” The light moved, the red overtaking the orange before overlapping with the yellow.
“Rh . . .” The yellow texture turned to liquid and twisted as the red solidified.
“O . . .” The orange was engulfed by the red and yellow as the two meshed again.
“N.” A red and yellow joined together and now a single golden solid color stood alone.
“Parhon.” That strange word once again reverberated through his neural web, electrifying the mushroom's body with a surge of power. He felt reinvigorated and renewed.
The ex-captain tried to focus he thought deep about the meaning of the words and why, now, for a second time, they had revealed themselves to him.
The nature of the word and the meaning of it remained buried as deep as the ancient mineral veins of the Darkworks, forever hidden behind the eternal deep dark abysses where no jeru dared to thread.
Still, the word brought him comfort. Now more than ever, he had to save the outsiders and find the meaning of the forgotten word that their crystallized souls spoke of.
He waited for the right moment to move, always carefully atop the branches of the trees. Bit by bit, the light began to disappear as so too did the armors.
As the light of the day gave way to darkness, his vision became sharper and the far-off walking suits of armor surrounded by fog and blurs turned to clear visions of the legionaries, their features and details now obvious in the jeru's natural dark environment.
One by one the legionaries abandoned their posts and retreated into their tents, until only a reluctant skeleton crew was left to keep watch during the high moon.
The jeru looked to the camp one last time to confirm in his head what he had kept watch over. Finally, he descended.
The mushroom moved in the cover of darkness, hopping down from the tree and expertly hiding behind the lumps of dirt and scattered bushes in the plain whenever the clouds hid the moon in the sky. He peered from the bush among the sea of caltrops, his eyes calm and calculating as he stared at his first obstacle, the two legionaries who stood guard on their watchtowers. The ex-mercenary gazed to the moat in front of him, filled to the brim with sharpened posts and spikes.
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The worry and stress of the situation began to build up within him. He felt his central web begin to pulsate within his body, the rhythm of his essence creating a feedback loop as the throbbing neural channels ruined his focus.
He closed his eyes and thought back to home, not to the Free Mountains or Emberlight, but to the Twin Hills, to the kin he accepted as family. The thought of them, of his haven, his redemption, comforted him and as he opened his eyes, he steeled himself for his home's sake.
He timed the legionaries and focused himself as they looked toward the plain and to the other guard towers.
“Can't take them out, too risky,” he mulled. “Only one thing left to do.” He aimed his crossbow to a bush opposite to where he was.
“Fly.” The thought echoed in his mind as he pulled the trigger. The bolt pierced through the air and violently landed in the opposite bush, the stone-tipped arrowhead crashing against frail twigs. The noise broke the silence of the plain and the legionary guards instinctively looked for its source.
“Now!” the neural web commanded in a frantic hurry and the jeru obeyed the orders. In a hurried moment, he left his hiding place and silently sprinted across the sea of caltrops in the plain. His four slender, pointed feet shrouded him in a natural silence and allowed him to not step on any of the spiked traps.
Then, just as the legionaries began to look back to their normal positions, the jeru slid down to the moat and hid underneath the spikes, just barely holding on to the rock and dirt to stop his fragile body from being torn open.
“See anything?” a human legionary asked his fellow minar brother, who was closer to the bush in his guard tower.
“Nothing. Must have been an animal,” he answered as the legionaries resumed their watch.
The jeru struggled in the bottom of the spiked moat. Sweat began to drip into the sharpened wood as he once again felt the nauseating pulse of his neural web. He brought his legs further up as his stilt appendages burrowed into the dirt walls of the moat and helped him regain his footing in the cramped trench.
He leaned against the dirt wall and firmly placed himself atop the side spikes. As he felt the natural moisture of the dirt, natural instinct took over.
“I know what to do,” he thought to himself as his hands began to dig through the dirt.
Silently under the guise of the moon, the ex-mercenary began to dig his way underneath the fort, the dirt crumbling upon the touch of the pacifist’s spongy hands.
The soft surface layer gave way to harder rock and Eren noticed minerals and rocks in his way. Their colors and textures screamed at him as he brushed them aside, ignoring them. But he could not avoid them forever.
Hard stone began to block his ascent; A great mineral guard dared to put a stop to the tunneler in their domain. The jeru tried to break the stone behemoth, but his hands faltered and tore as the fungal matter met the immovable slab.
He rested in his self-made chamber for a bit, steadied his breathing, and focused his mind. Yet again, his pulsating neural web overtook his body. He tried to relax and calm down, but it was to no avail. The distractions from his system were too much to bear. And then something clicked within the jeru.
Amidst the rhythm of his body, an idea surged and began to accompany his bloodstream, spurred on by that strange unknown found in the Elder’s words and the crystallized souls of the outsiders.
He focused his mind. Instead of fighting against his body, he cooperated with it.
The mushroom closed his eyes and heard his neural web pulsating. He focused on it, feeling the rhythm of his body. As he did, his arms began to move without his commands. Instinct and his neural web took control of his body.
Discipline and experience all told him to take back control, to not allow random reactions. But he fought against it. He kept his eyes closed and focused on the pulsating, letting his body move free, independent of his control or will. His hands once again met with the ancient stone boulder. A single word emerged from the depths of his soul: “Parhon.”
A high-pitched noise reverberated in the tunnel and Eren felt the tunnel expand around him.
He opened his eyes and saw that the stone had disappeared and the tunnel had opened itself to him, expanding much farther into the heart of the camp while still being underground.
He looked in disbelief at his hands and as he witnessed the power of his body. “Otto you bastard,” he grumbled to himself. “I always knew you were wrong.”
As he pushed his memories and experiences aside, the pacifist prepared to surface into the enemy bracari camp.
He looked to the terrain above, making sure that no legionaries could see him as he emerged in the natural moonlight.
The jeru carefully covered his burrow. Under the cover of the night he silently stalked his way to the bracari's tent. The heart of the camp was lightly illuminated and sparsely guarded as the high moon began its shift above the skies of Vaelia.
Outside the bracari's tent, the jeru saw two half-asleep legionaries attempt to stand guard their pretender in the Legionary Civil War.
The ex-mercenary moved between the shadows, jumping from cover to cover when the night clouds began to cover the moon. Soon enough, he lifted the back of the tent and entered the private quarters of Bracari Marius.
The bracari snore echoed inside the tent, where among the stolen spoils of war, his high-quality Imperial furniture and highly adorned bracari armor clashed with the humble human Leli peasant bed he slept in. Its simple yet comfortable wooden frame and hay mattress had lulled the war criminal into a peaceful sleep.
The ex-mercenary grabbed a bolt from his bag and silently pulled back the string from his crossbow. Stealthy, he approached the sleeping bracari. As he brought the bolt to the human's neck he said in a low, clicking accent, “Wake up, princess.”
“Huh, wha—” The dazed bracari opened his eyes and stared at his enemy.
Before he could react, Eren quickly placed his hand on the bracari's mouth. “If you even try to scream, this is going right through you.”
“You fungal bastard. You wouldn't dare to shoot. The entire camp would come after you,” Marius said as Eren put his hands behind his back to restrain him.
“Maybe. But not before the legionaries begin fighting each other to see who will take your armor. Either you do what I say and my village is safe, or I kill you and the village will be safe too.” As he said it, Eren noticed the bracari frown. “I'm prepared to die for those I love. Now you though,” he said, eyeing him with contempt. “The fact you are in this tent tells me you aren't, ‘Centuri’ Marius.” Eren spoke in a spiteful tone and the stress on Marius’ former title rattling the upstart bracari to anger.
“Cave-rat! When I get out of here I'm torching those pathetic shacks to the ground.” the hostage said as Eren twisted his hands at the mention of his home.
“You aren't gonna torch anything. You are gonna be a good legionary and follow my orders. Now move!” Eren said, forcing the bound Marius to walk through the entrance to the outside of the tent.
“Easy,” Marius said as he nearly tripped on the loose stones in the dirt floor.
The tent flaps opened as Marius exited first, the guards suddenly springing into attention from their half-sleep state.
“Sir.”
“Sir!”
They both said as they looked forward before noticing the jeru holding their leader hostage.
Their eyes locked with the jeru’s. Hatred and defiance burned within him as the guards instinctively raised their spears and began to point them towards the mushroom, only for them to be stopped as the bracari yelled to the camp, “Stop! Stand down. Don't attack him!”
Throughout the camp, sleeping legionaries were rudely awakened by the voice of their first among equals. While a lot of them returned to bed, many left to see what the commotion was.
In due time, the bracari made his way to the storage area with the mushroom behind him. A large crowd of soldiers formed around the tense situation.
Among both armored and unarmored legionaries, a myriad of stares and emotions filled the air as they saw their hostage leader. Some looked scornfully at the mushroom and hated him for even touching their bracari. Others were astonished that such a high-ranking kin could even be captured. A few looked in disappointment as they abandoned in their hearts one that had shown such weakness.
A few legionaries drew their swords and prepared to storm the captor, only to be stopped as Marius screamed at them, “Don't! Just do what he says.” Sweat began to drip down from his brown, into the shoulders of his nightgown.
All around them, the legionaries protested and raised their voices.
“Coward!”
“Rat!”
“As if being captured wasn't enough, he has the gall to present himself like that,” a legionary whispered to his brother-in-arms.
The sneers were cut short as the centuris and commandris instilled their famed discipline on the lower ranks. The camp was once again overtaken by the distinct silence of the Land of Legions as the Marius Bracari watched their leader’s capture in silent disapproval.
Only the sound of Eren's and Mariuse's footsteps dared to break the ghostly silence of almost five thousand legionaries standing in shameful attention.
“Over there!” Eren said as he nodded with his head towards a storage tent. “Open it.”
“I said, do what he says!” Marius bellowed to a nearby legionary while struggling against the mercenary.
The tent flap opened and the jeru’s visual membranes confirmed his suspicion. Slumped against the wall of the tent were the three petrified outsiders. He nodded to the legionary that had opened the tent. “You, get that statue some straps. I'm taking it.”
With a furtive glance from the hostage bracari, the legionary brought a length of rope to the statue, creating a makeshift back holster for the jeru to carry.
Eren approached the statue. While still holding his hostage and crossbow, he placed the statue on his back. To the great surprise of the assembled legionaries, the fragile-looking mushroom effortlessly lifted the heavy burden.
“Everyone get out of the way, I'm taking your bracari with me, “Eren said as he looked to the hostile gaze of the legionaries around him.
Something responded. Eren focused his audible membrane and noticed the faint sound of a crossbow being notched. As he tried to move Marius, he frantically searched for the source of the noise until he found it.
A single bolt broke through the tension of the night, flying through the silence and heralding a much more terrifying one as the bolthead crashed against fragile human bone and made its way to the center of the bracari's brain. Not even dignified by some last words, Bracari Marius became limp in the jeru's arms, his eyes forever recording a permanent state of shock and fear of the bolt sticking out of his forehead.
“No! Marius!” Eren screamed out in a genuine worry as he looked at his fallen enemy in his arms. He looked forward again to the source of the bolt, a newfound rage and determination burning within his web.
The legionaries all looked equally shocked as they stared at the corpse of their fallen leader and then, right in front of them, to the source of the attack.
At the front of the gathered thousands of legionaries, a single middle-aged human, wearing battered centuri armor, a feathered helmet, and holding the murder weapon, proudly stared into the jeru's eyes. Without a single hint of remorse, he said, “Damn, I missed.” As he finished, he couldn't control himself. An ambitious grin emerged as the centuri stared at his work.
The jeru was dumbfounded, angry, and scared. However, he had no time to question the bracaria's discipline or morale, for as he let another bloodied corpse fall onto the land of the Legions, a terrible series of sounds broke through the silence and heralded the end.
The noise of a thousand swords being unsheathed and being thrust into exposed flesh spread through the camp like wildfire. The officers, the commandris and leganis tried their best to keep order and discipline in the growing chaos but it was useless.
Seizing their moment, centuris, mastris, patrolis, and even some daring legionaries began to fight one another for control of the bracari, weakened as it would be.
Kin fought against kin. Those that remained united did so either for their desperate need to survive or through their eternal bond of camaraderie, protecting their closest brothers in arms against passing acquaintances. Deeper into the camp, the legionaries were either awoken for duty or killed in their sleep as the legionaries entered the wrong tents.
Bolts from crossbows and bows flew through the air, along with furniture and whatever the kin could use as weapons in the sudden succession melee. Fire began to spread through the lines of tents, trapping those who had slept through the initial carnage.
In all the commotion, the remaining high-ranking leganis were not blind to the intruder in their midst. Between their coordination and orders to stop the approaching rebellious lower ranks from toppling them, they ordered for the mushroom to be killed.
Eren didn't have the luxury of time. He steeled himself and as the noise of the breakthrough of violence reached his central web, he let his battle weathered instincts take over. His experience of countless battles and campaigns with the Obsidian Brotherhood guided him. Seeing his numeric disadvantage, the mushroom did the only thing he could: he bravely began to run away.
Underneath the hail of arrows and dance of swords, the mushroom expertly dashed through forming openings in the group melees, all while continuing to carry the three outsiders. He followed the path and jumped over the broken furniture and fires, only for his attempted escape to be thwarted as he saw as the watchtower legionaries had closed the gates and now awaited a victor from the safety of their watchtowers.
“No!” he shouted as he stopped himself from hitting the wooden gate. His instincts screamed at him and immediately he turned around to see his fears confirmed.
Following him on the other side was the same battle-scarred centuri who had killed Marius. He looked to the jeru, a fiery disdain burning within him as he pointed his crossbow to the mushroom. “Not gonna miss this time,” he said and squeezed the trigger.
It was as if time stood still. The bolt left the crossbow and raced to the central sentience web, right between the jeru's eyes.
To Eren, all around him went dark as he stared at the bolt beginning its flight. The shapes and forms of everything around him disappeared as they were broken down to their most basic of mineral and metal elements in his eyes. The fighting crowds disappeared, as did the violence, bloodshed, and even the hateful centuri himself. All that remained was the bare essential.
The jeru felt the endless dirt below his quadrupedal stilts, felt as the simple work of wood and stone flew to end his existence. More than anything, the jeru felt the heavy burden upon his back. The crystallized souls behind him blinded him and screamed at him, deafening everything else in the world. Then, from them, he heard it: Parhon.
The word raced again from the crystallized souls, down into the dirt and back up again through his central sentient web and when the rock spoke, the mushroom listened.
The light overtook him as the most ancient of truths to his people was once again revealed to the jeru and he did what they had been created to do: he dug. As he focused on the word, the ground began to sink below the jeru. Without even realizing, moments from the bolt reaching him, the mushroom safely sank again to the underground tunnel he had made beneath the camp.
“What?” the centuri screamed as the jeru disappeared into the floor. A frustrated glare set itself upon him before he turned around and took it out on one poor legionary that had dared to try to stab him.
Meanwhile underground, the jeru spared no time. He recomposed himself and ran through his network of tunnels to the outside of the camp where he exited into the open fields, the guards too distracted with the commotion of the melee to pay him any attention.
The ex-mercenary ran through the plain while he carried the statue. When he reached the edge of the grove he had camped at, he gave one last cursory glance to the burning camp behind him and punched the trunk of the tree, tearing through his forearm. With tears forming in his eyes, he hoped the pain would help him deal with his rage and sadness over having yet again caused such carnage.
“Eren!” the human spotter cried from the top of the palisade. Late morning sun rays shone from behind him and cast the shadow of the Twin Hills on the tired jeru.
“Marco . . . please, open the gate,” he cried as he adjusted the heavy burden that he carried.
“Open the gate! Eren came back!” The spotter immediately descended from the palisade and joined the gathered crowd of peasants as they prepared to welcome their hero and protector back home.
“I'm sorry everyone. I failed,” the mushroom said as he fell to the ground and rolled the statue on its side.
The crowds began to murmur. Immediately, the spotter ran towards his friend and helped him back up. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “You got the outsiders safely here.”
A sullen look overtook the mushroom as he stared back to the curious crowd. “No . . . I, those bastards . . . the bracaria killed their own leader. I was trying to bring Marius here to guarantee our safety. They just shot him and then started killing each other.”
As the mushroom described what had happened, the peasants look to one another. One by one, they began to celebrate to the sky at the news of the bracari's death.
“What are you doing? Why are you celebrating!” the jeru asked as he became enraged with the peasant’s celebration of the waste of life.
“If they are too busy killing each other they won't bother us anymore, Eren!”
“That's right! You succeeded after all, Captain,” a female cind and human said as they joined the cheers of the communal crowd.
“Shut up! All of you!” the Mushroom said, letting go of Marco's arm. He stood again, battered, on his own four stilts.
The crowd suddenly went quiet. The jeru swelled with anger as he struggled to breathe. He focused on the worried crowd as he spoke.
“Even if they were bad people, even if they tried to kill us, no kin has any right to take a life! This senseless massacre doesn't solve anything! They were still alive. They all had hopes and dreams and because of what I did they are gone! It could all have been avoided too,” the Mushroom said and fell to his knees. Tears poured from his optical membrane.
As the crowd heard the rare cry of the broken jeru in front of them, they frowned and looked down, some with shame and others with embarrassment over the captain's outburst.
“Eren . . .” Marco said as he tried to approach the captain and bring him back to his feet.
“They died. They are dead because of me. I got their blood in my hands, all of them. No matter what I do, I can't stop this land from bleeding.” He tried to clear his tears and looked to the crowd as he screamed. “So don't cheer at their death! As long as the world bleeds, there's no reason to celebrate!”
Silence hovered over the crowds. The unnatural ambiance haunted the village as the words from their guardian echoed in the wind and in their hearts. In their souls, they were conflicted. The peasants all looked to their crying guardian and shared a thought that was held by almost all: That perhaps their dear protector and hero had finally been pushed to the limit. That what was left now was the final broken wreck after a lifetime of battle; the dauntless Captain of the Jeru Obsidian Guard now only a mess of battle scars and war terrors.
The human spotter looked with scorn to the crowd as they pondered the usefulness and sanity of their hero. He prepared to speak to defend the one who had saved him, but as he turned and moved he was stopped.
Marco turned his head around to see the jeru holding his tunic's sleeve. As he slowly met his eyes, Eren silently shook his head, his broken spirit wanting to save his protege from the same scorn that the crowd now lay upon him.
“Eren . . .” Marco said to the crestfallen hero in front of him. For the first time in his life, Marco truly felt the overwhelming and endless silence of the Land of Legions.
“I thought you jeru were more resilient than that. Ha!” A light-hearted voice punctured the silence.
“Lucian,” Marco said under his breath as he found the source of the voice.
“Stand back everyone, I need space for this,” the Elderly human said, pushing the crowd away with his staff. He slowly made his way to the jeru. “You too, Marco, you are too young for what's coming.”
The spotter raised his eyebrow and slowly backed away from the jeru, letting his mentor's hand fall to the ground.
“So, what's this all about, hmm? Think you got nothing else to fight for? We saw a wee bit of blood and suddenly that unshakable fungal spirit is destroyed? I thought you were better than that,” the elder reprimanded the mushroom.
“What would you know . . . I can't solve anything, I just make things worse.” Eren avoided the elder’s eyes, and Lucian lowered himself and used his staff to bring the jeru to face him.
“My child, I know more than what you could dream of.” Suddenly, the elder threw his staff aside and proudly straightened his back as he slowly backed away. The battering of age all seemed to vanish. “I thought you had a good cap on your head. Thought you could be the hope and inspiration for this land.” As he straightened himself, the villagers and the jeru saw pebbles and clumps of dirt begin to float up and surround the quickly rejuvenating elderly man.
“But clearly. . .” Large chunks of dirt and mud floated and spun around him, almost covering him completely. The jeru stood up and looked in awe, together with the crowd to the miracle in front of him. “You still have much to learn.”
A blinding flash of light emerged from Lucian and a golden light spread through the entire village. As it passed through the statue, it broke it and brought the three outsiders back to life.
“Ah, tree mom!”
“Oh, I need air, I need air. By the gods I was suffocating.”
“My neck, feels like someone turned it to stone.”
Fiona, Griff, and Thalon emerged from their petrified states and gazed at the fading light of the entity floating in front of them.
Debris began to fall back into place as the transformation of Lucian was complete. As the jeru looked to the outsiders and then back to the elder that had welcomed him, he heard the bookish monk yell, “Lord Lutum!”
“The god of earth,” Fiona finished. Griff bowed down to the elemental god of earth, mud and dirt.
“Lutum?”
“A god.”
“Lucian is a god?!”
The peasant crowds whispered among themselves at the miracle in front of them.
“You, you're a God?” asked Eren.
“That's right, my child,” The divine entity said with an empathetic gaze at the crowd of kin.
The god gently floated above the ground, his skin a gentle shade of light brown that meshed with his short, ruffled dark brown hair.
To the surprise of the peasants and Griff, the elusive god did not sport any fanciful clothes or dress. Instead, even in his regal celestial form, he proudly wore the battered peasant clothing he had in his human form.
Lutum leaned forward, clenching his hands shut as large stones began to sprout from the ground and hover around him. “What will you do, Eren?”
The mushroom stared at the God, wondering what the elder’s intent would be. Before he could say anything, a large, pointed boot stepped next to him, a flowing yellow tabbard accompanying it. He looked up and saw the yellow pointy hatted outsider taking a defensive stance with his two companions right behind him.
“Wizard!” the god proclaimed, his voice breaking through the silence of the Land of Legions and bringing life back to it. “Prepare yourself!”
The wizard smiled as he brought his hands forwards in a fighting position. “Bring it on, mud slinger.”
A devious smile erupted from the god at the taunt. He brought his hand upwards and with a punching motion hurled rocks toward the wizard. On the sideline, he asked, “Will you give up, Eren?”
“Stop!” the jeru said, pleading to the god. Rocks crashed against a wall of stone that the wizard brought forth with a stomp of his foot.
“Just because you stop fighting doesn't mean the violence of the world will too!” The god pulled a large boulder from the ground and threw it again at the wizard. The pacifist screamed.
“Please! Just stop!” he yelled as peasants ran for cover from the destruction of the duel. The wizard encased his hand in stone and punched through the large boulder, reducing it to smaller pieces that flew toward the village.
“What will you do, Eren? What will you do when your pacifism doesn't work?” The god raised his hands and mud climbed to cover the wizard's body, stopping short of his neck. With a flick of his hand, the mud turned to stone and trapped the wizard as he struggled to break free.
“Thalon!”
“Pointy Hat!” Griff and Fiona cried out from the sidelines while they tried their best to protect the villagers from the debris of the duel.
The jeru watched in horror as the revered god tore a large chunk from the ground. As he rotated his hand above his head, the chunk spun too. It slowly gathered more speed before he prepared to launch it at the defenseless wizard and he said one last time, “Will you give up, or will you fight?!”
Time stood still as the floor began to fly toward the wizard. As the jeru stared in horror at the coming bloodshed, something reawoke within him. Fueled by hope, by idealism, and by that unknown word of power, he worked in tandem with his system and his instincts. The pacifist leaped to set himself between the flying stone hammer and the wizard.
A fire of newfound determination and purpose set his entire being aflame and as he raised his hand he said under his breath, “Parhon.”
The villagers, outsiders, and the god himself watched in awe as the large chunk of the floor was stopped. The large hammer continued to vibrate in the air as the energy struggled to dissipate at such an abrupt stop.
With a single hand, the mushroom firmly held the large chunk of ground. As he felt the word of power surge through him, he knew what he had to do. He clasped his hand shut and all in the village saw the large chunk of dirt reduced to thousands of smaller bits of dirt and stone pebbles, filling again the large crater that had formed around the God.
As he saw the resolve of the mushroom, Lutum began to smile. “Commendable, my child. But have you really learned?”
Rocks began to float around the god again. One by one, he threw them at the mushroom. Eren jumped, rolled, and even broke through some of the rocks as he surfed across dirt and stone, getting closer to the god and source of violence in his village.
Finally, to the joy of the god, the mushroom jumped at him. As his fist became encased in a triple layer of stone, he said to the lord of earth, mud and dirt, “I will fight!”
The stone fist clashed against the face of the God, bruised for the first time in eons as the Parhon-infused punch left a mark of the power of the common kin and the mushroom's resolve on the god of earth.
The entire earth shook as its patron god met with his native element. The peasants struggled to remain standing as they felt the great earthquake below. But as the body stabilized, so did the world, and the crowd saw as instead of blood, pure light dripped down from the god's bruise.
He tried to look to Eren as the mushroom proudly stood over him with daylight shining brightly behind him. “You have learned after all,” he said.
“Thalon! Are you alright?” Griff called to his companion as the dirt bind disintegrated and left the wizard on his knees.
“Just a few bruises it seems,” Fiona said, helping the wizard to his feet.
Only a few feet away, the pacifist loomed over the lord of the earth and silently pondered what to do. Yet again, the silence of the land of legions was broken as the battered wizard called to his savior.
“Hey, Eren was it? What are you going to do with him?” The wizard slowly limped to the mushroom as he looked down to the god.
A serene expression permeated his entire being as the mushroom crouched down and lent the god his hand.
Lutum laughed as he took it and got back up to his feet. “Not gonna kill me? If you don't, that yellow hat fella might.” A grin set about his face as he tried to provoke the mushroom.
Eren’s expression changed to a somber one. “I will not give up again, Lucian.” His eyes met the familiar gaze of the god's disguise. “I know this world is filled with senseless violence and bloodshed but I will not give up, no matter what. I admit it, perhaps we can't fully abandon violence. But instead of using that violence as a soldier or a mercenary, I shall be a guardian of peace. As long as I can contain myself and never let that violence escalate to death again, I know I will have succeeded. And the fields of the Land of Legions will be strewn not with corpses but with peaceful kin with a few broken noses.”
The god laughed. “Mighty for you to say that Eren, you don't have a nose! Still, I knew you had the right spirit within you.” The god then turned his attention to the wizard as he stood on his own.
“Eren, do you know who this outsider is?” he asked with an amused look.
“No,” the mushroom answered with a stern expression as he turned to face the wizard.
“Thalon, only Thalon. Former servant at the Gods’ Palace and now . . . hmm, what should I call you friend? Prophet? Heretic? Rebel?”
“Wizard. Wizard will do,” Thalon said with a smug smile as he pressed through his fatigue.
“Wizard. It does have a nice ring to it,” Lutum said as Thalon raised his hands again, almost challenging the god for another round.
The mushroom simply began walking and said in a stern voice, “If either of you begins fighting again, I will put you both back in the earth myself.”
“You don't understand—”
“No! It's you who doesn't understand, outsider!” the mushroom forcefully said as he cut off the wizard’s explanation. “I don't care where you come from, who your gods are, what kin you are. This town is ours and it is a safe haven from the meaningless violence of the world. I don't care what your quarrel with Lucian is. Under my watch, there will be peace!”
“Perhaps you shouldn't be so hasty, Eren,” the god of earth said as he once again levitated from the ground. “That is no way to talk to your squad mate.”
“What?”
“Huh?”
“Excuse me?”
“Hmm? I wasn't distracted, what we talking about?” the mushroom, the wizard, the monk, and the fernian said.
“Like I said Eren, this man is no mere outsider. He is a herald from the One. He signals the end of our age and time on this mortal plane,” the god said with reverence to the meaning of the wizard's presence.
The jeru brushed it aside as he said. “I don't care about any of that stuff. Business of gods and priests of the surface kin is meaningless to me.”
“Really?” the god asked with a smirk. “You probably should care since he wants the same as you do.”
The mushroom's curiosity was piqued by the god's words. He raised an eyebrow to the wizard. “I don't believe it. You were fighting just now.”
The wizard laughed. “I hadn't fully considered my plan yet, but it’s true. I want to get rid of the gods and give the kin control of their fate and souls. If in the process we could end this meaningless war and death, that would be good too,” he said with a smile.
“Ah, such heresy. But alas, Lord Lutum is right,” Griff said as in his mind he prayed to the gods for forgiveness. “This yellow heretic would rather deliver himself to bondage and torture than to even lay a hand on those who just had mercilessly beat him when I met him.”
“He would have died for my tribe,” Fiona said. “Pointy Hat almost died when he stopped my tribe from killing each other over how to live, and he didn't even know us.”
The wizard smiled back in a silent “thank you” to his two companions.
As the jeru’s heart began to be swayed by the outsider’s words, he said, “That still doesn't explain why you suddenly started fighting.”
“I'm afraid Thalon the Wizard only has hostile intent towards me,” the god said as he took the attention again. “It’s due to some shameful matters that I will not get into here. No need to concern our neighbors and friends with something like that. But you need not be afraid, Thalon. For I am not with the Obscured Gods. I too am from the same ilk as Flora. I have accepted the end of my tenure here.”
“Then why did you fight me?” the wizard asked incredulously.
“Well, I still had one last lesson to teach my student before I departed this world forever.” He gave a warm smile to the jeru.
“So, wait, you're leaving? Now?” Eren asked as the thought finally cemented itself in his mind.
“Lucian, you can't leave!” shouted a villager.
“You are part of the Village, we need you.”
“Uncle Lucian, please don't go . . .”
The peasants cried as they heard their friend and neighbor’s words.
“They are very casual with their patron god,” Fiona said in a low voice to the monk.
“Lord Lutum is not like Lady Flora. He’s always been rather elusive and disguised himself regularly among the kin of Vaelia. To them, he's just their friend and neighbor,” The monk answered as the wizard looked in contempt to the god.
“I'm afraid I am, my friends. I'm sorry that I was not fully truthful with you about who I was but you have to understand. I was never one for the grandeur and celestial trappings. I always liked the humbleness of the earth a lot better.” As he finished, the god changed his form back to that of a younger Lucian, still with the same battered old peasant clothes, white hair, and red eyes. He turned to Eren. “Eren, you have done so much for this village. Ever since you entered here, even when you were battered, nearly dead, and with your Obsidian Guard Uniform in shambles, I knew your spirit was strong and that you would do much to help these kin.” As he said this, the mushroom looked down. “But . . . would you please, fulfill the wish of a sad, afraid old man?” The mushroom looked up with a saddened look as the god finished. “Don't stay here. Don't be like me, someone who was too afraid to truly face the horrors of my equals and would rather hole away in a secluded village, deluding himself into thinking he was helping. There is so much more you can do for the world out there than you can in here. Follow that wizard. Protect him and follow him into the end of the world and bring about a new age. Do what I couldn't; fight against the violence and evil of this world.”
“These are my people! I can't leave them. What if something happ—” Eren broke off when he heard hundreds of clicking noises and looked to the crowd as he saw the entire mass of peasants all properly holding their crossbows and giving their hero a jeru mercenary salute, led by the loyal and dependent Marco.
“Everyone, Marco . . .” Tears formed in the jeru's eyes at their resolve and determination.
“What we have we owe it to you, Eren.”
“We will never forget what you taught us”
“No one will ever take anything from us ever again.”
“Wherever you go, we will always support you.”
“And welcome you back with open arms.”
The crowd of peasants praised their village hero. Lastly, Marco stepped forward and said, “Above all else, you will always be our hero and friend.”
“Everyone . . . thank you.” the jeru said as he wiped away the tears that were forming from within his ocular membrane.
“If you are still worried about them then I shall give you all a parting gift. After all, I would feel bad to leave family without anything,” the humble god said as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The ground trembled beneath the feet of the Twin Hills Village. Suddenly, the palisade pillars fell over and gave way instead to solid walls of polished stone.
Rather than brick and mortar, the wall was a single uniform block of stone that surrounded the village and surrounding hills.
The rumbling came to a halt as the celestial fortifications were set in stone. The village was now protected by a triple-layered defense of walls and three keeps. Two of them sat atop of the twin hills and the central keep surrounded the entire perimeter of the village, from where a triple layer of walls sprouted and protected the settlement.
“The village now has walls worthy of its defenders,” the god said with a proud inflection at the wondrous gaze of the villagers.
“Now, they didn't even pray for that,” the wizard said with a smug tone towards the monk.
“Yes, they didn't.” The monk answered the snarky response.
The jeru was at a loss of words as he stared at the walls and their mineral composition. The material was of the highest quality, an especially rare and pure specimen of the Shieldstone ore. It was a mineral famed for its hardness and use in gurel and Imperial fortifications and was also extremely expensive. The only ones said to be able to properly prepare it and use it for construction were the now-disbanded “Bridge Brotherhood,” a secretive mason's guild.
The foundations of the wall were deep. As he inspected the composition further, Eren's inner jeru senses knew the village could now survive anything the world would throw at it. Not even the combined might of the seven bracarias would be enough to break these walls or the morale of its defenders.
“Perhaps not as long as the Hill-Ring . . . But I would say it’s just as effective,” the god said to the speechless jeru.
“I don't know what to say,” Eren answered.
“Just say you will do what I asked, that you will follow that wizard,” he said with a nod to the wizard, who wore a warm expression at the gift Lutum he had bestowed his people.
Eren turned to Thalon and asked with a genuine and honest inflection, “It's true then? You really want to change things?”
The wizard smiled warmly. “I do and I'll say more, my mushroom friend. I like your idea. We could use more of that. It sure would be nice to have the new age be one where people don't need to fight anymore.”
The mushroom looked down as if pondering the words. But deep down, his central web was tingling with joy as he heard, for the first time in his life, words of approval from another kin.
He looked back to the wizard and a serious expression set upon him. He raised his hand and saluted the wizard. “Sir! Former Captain of the Jeru Obsidian Brotherhood Mercenary Company, Heartlands sub-division, Eren Lichtstein, one time awarded the Golden Sash and recipient of the Diamond Paxel, requesting transfer from active retirement, Sir!”
Thalon gave a chuckle at the jeru and respectfully saluted the mushroom back. “I don't know what either of those titles are, but permission granted, soldier.” He lowered his hands and extended it to Eren. “Thanks for saving us, by the way, and welcome to our band of renegades.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Ooh and don't forget misfits too!” Griff and Fiona added as Thalon welcomed the newest addition to the party.
“Thank you. From now on, we are brethren in arms. I will gladly give my life and spirit to protect you, all of you.” A smile began to form within the mushroom, but before further pleasantries could be shared, he turned around and saw as another prepared to bid farewell.
Floating above the ground and climbing ever-upwards, the god of earth began to slowly dissipate away from the mortal world.
“I know you will do great things, Eren,” he said. “And to you my friends and neighbors, this is where I bid you farewell. I would wish you all the best but I know you will be just fine. You are strong, hearty and kind. I knew I choose well to found this place here. And to you, wizard, I shall not give you the satisfaction of beating me. Gods’ speed.” Above him, a portal of white light similar to the one Flora had taken formed and prepared to welcome the god.
“Lutum! Wait! Tell me about Hopefield and Parhon!” the wizard screamed to the heavens as the god readied himself to leave the mortal plane.
“Ahaha, too late to pry it out of me now, wizard! Those are things you must find for yourself. Oh and good luck with Niel—last I heard, he and Mort are getting close. So long! Ah!” With a jolly laugh, the god sped toward the portal and disappeared beyond it.
For a brief moment as the portal closed it was as if the entire world whiplashed back into action. As if some sort of force that had for eons long held the ground and continents in place had finally been broken and the world was now once again free to wander and set its own course.
The world felt a bit more free, but also more dangerous and unpredictable.
The villagers looked to the sky, trying to grasp the meaning of their lifelong friend and neighbor having been a god all along. As they began to hug and thank their last hero before he too would need to leave, Eren said to the Thalon, “Listen, why don't we spend the night here. There's some last thing I need to take care of. We would love to have you eat with us tonight.”
“Sure, we don't mind spending the night,” Thalon answered with a smile as the mushroom was pulled away by his friends.
“Ooh, I can't wait to see what plains kin eat!” Fiona answered excitedly as she accompanied the mushroom.
“By the gods, are we gonna be picking up someone at every settlement we stop at?” the monk asked with an undecipherable expression.
“Why Griff, only the ones that don't try to kill us of course,” Thalon answered with his characteristic smug smile.
“Gods help me . . .”