6 years later.

In a large forest, filled with towering oaks and trees of incredible age, an arched stone door resided. This door seemed to grow out of a tree, as if being birthed by it. The ancient stones were covered in moss and plants, with faded lines on them. Such lines began to glow a brilliant blue and the door swung open. Out stepped a man. He was tall, at least 6 ft. if he was an inch. Black hair was cut in a military style. Piercing green eyes stared out from under harsh brows. His body was bulky, rippling with muscle. When he moved it was reminiscent of a bear, large and powerful. Peeking out from the hem of his shirt and pants were dull grey tattoos. Such things seemed to twist in mind-bending patterns and forms. On his back was a large pack, nearly the same size as he was. Clutched in one hand was a long, wooden staff, tipped with a large straight blade. Said staff and blade was also adorned with writhing symbols and formulas that seemed to invoke madness. He scanned the surroundings for a moment before setting off confidently into the underbrush. Behind him, the silent glade once again erupted with the chittering of birds and squirrels.

The man moved confidently through the brush, dexterously avoiding protruding sticks and webs. He crossed the distance quickly, an unassuming speed that let him tread miles in short amounts of time. It was not long before he reached the edge of the forest, only around three hours or so. In front of him the monolithic trees quickly disappeared to reveal an enormous grassland, a single, tiny dirt path leading through it. The man paused, seemingly breathing in the scene before once again moving forward. The surrounding land began to blur together in his mind as he focused on merely moving forward, one step in front of another. It was almost a surprise then when he started encountering the remnants of civilization. Dilapidated wood buildings built squat and low to the ground. Rotted cloth and paper adorned the streets. It was similar to a ghost town. The man finally slowed down, hesitant almost, as he approached one building in particular. This one was not much larger than the others. It did not hold any magical runes or weapons, nor were there any valuable artworks on the walls. Instead, there were merely some decayed rugs and blankets, and a central room combined with a kitchen. The man dropped to his knees, and gently picked up a picture. It was a drawing, done in the local manner depicting a tall man, built as if to hold up the world. At his side was a woman whose smile, even in the drawing, seemed to light up the world. For the second time that week, Alden wept for the loss of his family.

Alden took a deep breath as he sat on the porch of his family’s once home. For the first time he finally had closure, at least partially. A knot that seemed to have constricted around his heart with every passing day finally loosened and fell away. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, as he let his eyes finish drying out. He took a bit of fraying cloth and used it to wipe his nose, snorting at the motion. His mom would have been on him in a heartbeat had he done something so uncouth. He lifted his gaze and fixed his eyes further North. He still has some business to attend to.

When his family had still been alive, they had extensive connection with other adventures, mercenaries, and mages. They themselves, being Delvers, were considered to be kin to the others. Of those very few they actually called friends. Alden was going to see if one of those friends was still alive. Although when he was a child, the local geography had been drilled into his head, he would have easily gotten lost if not for the map he carried. It was old, and almost certainly out of date, but the major geographical features would have remained recognizable at the very least. His feet took him far, far into the North, where the expansive grasslands and prairies gradually changed to rolling hills and stone outcrops. Such hills then turned into mountains, and outcrops turned into massive formations that adorned said mountains like jewels. Instead of gentle prairies, large, misted valleys became the norm. It was around a month since the beginning of his journey that Alden found Hillak. It should have only been around 3 weeks, but his unfamiliarity with the area had caused him to backtrack a couple of times. In front of him the mountains dipped down into an expansive valley. Large trees, rivaling those of the Jungle Expanse, jutted from the rich, fertile soil. A veil of mist obscured the valley to all but the most perceptive of watchers. To his left the valley rapidly dipped down, forming a nigh impassable series of cliffs, mountains, and ravines to any who attempted to scale them. To his right the valley began to climb into a narrow pass, leading much further into the mountains themselves. And in the center lay Hillak, a massive city of sprawling stone that covered the central third of the valley. Easily over ten thousand soles hustled about, caravans regularly leaving and entering through a river which snaked through a valley. Said river exited through a carved series of canals at the left side of the valley, a large granite guardhouse controlling entry and exit. It was far less in volume, but still many people walked down from the mountains themselves, approaching the massive city walls and gates on foot. Alden smiled eagerly and began walking down himself.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

As he approached the city he was funneled into the large snaking columns of people and beasts that approached the main gates. He saw everything from humans, to dwarves, to even some of the Folk. What was far worse than the crowds, however, was the smell and the noise. The smell was the first thing to hit you. It was like a punch in the gut, a rotten combination of sweat, feces, and animal odor that blended together into a weapons grade toxic fume that threatened to burn out the nose. Nearly as bad was the noise. The conversation from dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of surrounding people blended together into a dull roar of voices. Alden grimaced at the affront to his senses. While normally he enjoyed his heightened hearing and smell, these were one of the few times such things were not welcome. With a quick twist of his mana, the smell and voices lowered to a manageable range. Then he had to wait. And wait. And wait some more.

It ended up taking almost the entire day for Alden to get to the front of the line. In front of him, the massive stone walls towered up into the sky above. Glyphs glowed with a sullen light as they throbbed on the large stone. He had heard about the legendary Hillak walls, but they were so much more impressive up close. He wondered if- “HEY! Listen up! Reason for visiting the city and length of stay?” Alden stared blankly at the guard before his brain started again. “My apologies its my first time visiting the city. Reason-visiting a friend and length shouldn’t be for more than a week.” The guard nodded before handing him a token. “It’s understandable. As it’s your first time that token right there is your form of identification. Don’t lose it, we’ll think you entered illegally. Keep it on your person when outside of your residence at all times. If you lose it visit the guardhouse to get it replaced.” With that the guard ushered him along, Alden just rotely following, still trying to catch up to the whirlwind of information. As he entered the city the sound got even worse, hawkers yelling out their wares. Alden shook his head and smiled. It was time for him to find a place to stay.

A little while later he was back on the prowl, having found a relatively inoffensive little tavern, tucked on the inside of the wall. Such a place had excellent quiet and relative secrecy. Now Alden moved swiftly along, eyes scanning his surroundings and a little map he held in his hands. Said map was a description of the city, showing the various markets and government buildings. His family’s friend lived right by the food market in the north-western side last he had heard. It was surprisingly hard, navigating along the map through the seemingly random and labyrinthine design of the roads and buildings. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long before he was standing in front of a squat, small building. Moving towards the door, he hammered down the brass knocker, fashioned into a boar’s head. “Who is it!?” A gruff voice yelled out from inside. Alden quickly scrambled to find something easy to say before replying with, “Martha’s son!” equally as loud. What sounded like a crash and muted cursing was followed by the door opening. Out from behind it peered a heavyset man, thick layers of fat covering what looked to once be muscle. On his arm Alden could see part of a tattoo. “Well, I’ll be dammed. Come in, come in. Don’t mind the mess I just got back from a job.” He walked further into the house, Alden following. Around him scattered weapons and papers adorned both the walls and the floor, almost as if a whirlwind had blown them all over the place. Gingerly Alden followed the old man, eventually coming to a small but homely common room with thick rugs and a hearth burning steadily in the side room. “Go ahead take a load off while I get some tea brewed. Then you can tell me what you’re doing all the way out here.” The man quickly moved off into a back room, the sound of clanking pans and pouring water drifting out. Alden hesitantly took a seat on a low wooden bench, with comforters placed on it. Quickly the man came back out, holding two steaming mugs. Gratefully Alden took one, gently blowing on it. The man took a seat in a large chair absolutely covered with rugs and furs that seemed to swallow him whole. “Why are you here boy? Last I heard I thought you were dead. The Vaulsh don’t leave many survivors.” Alden nodded in agreement, taking a sip from the cup before speaking. “They put me with a trusted friend nearby before they were forced to join the effort. I’ve been staying with him, but he recently died. As such I’ve decided to come in search of work. Everyone needs some way to support themselves, right?” He smiled, attempting to convey sincerity and earnestness. The man snorted. “I’m not stupid kid. Why’d you come all the way out to Hillak? There’s a lot easier places to get good, honest work.” Alden sighed in response. “Two reasons. 1. I’m not exactly looking for run of the mill work. And two, well, Hillak has chickens. And I need one.” The man eyed him for a moment before nodding. “That’s a strange request but it’s doable I suppose. What’s your name kid?” “Alden.” “Alden? That’s certainly interesting. Well, I’m not sure if you remember my name but I’m Lannon. I used to go monster hunting with your