Sand swirled past Atlas’s face as he made his way along The Fool’s Road. Around him desert stretched as far as the eye could see, golden dunes of sand rose and fell, unmarred by plants or creatures. Above a bright yellow-red sun hung low in the clear bright teal sky.
The road was six wagons wide though the outer two lanes had fallen into disrepair leaving only two functional lanes left. Large blocks of stone made a smooth surface of the road. On the road a fine layer of sand rested. A vestige of the imperial road that once spanned the full length of the Empire. A century ago, this would have been a busy road, people of all walks of life would have filled it, men, women, children, pack animals and more. Though quite a safe place during that time patrols and outpost would have covered the entirety of its length. Now there was only a handful of others in the distance.
Atlas was covered in clothing with only his eyes and hands exposed. He wore clothing common among dessert dwellers a headscarf and full body robe. The headscarf was four feet long, and in Atlas’s case undyed. It was wrapped covering the entire head except for the eyes providing protection against the sun and sand. The robe had long sleeves and a hem slightly above knee level it was a single piece without any buttons. Beyond the robe was a harness, made of an extremely strong, tough, and durable composite unknown to Atlas. The harness was molded into the shape of his chest fitting snugly with no free movement. Attaching the back of the harness to a wagon was a braid of spider silk an inch thick.
The wagon was pulled alone by Atlas. Made from a metal framework, the wagon was held up on four wheels of equal size with the front set several inches higher. The wagon held a variety of goods from supplies, tools, food, and water totaling two tons. It was covered by rough cloth covers with the words “Bobaross Trading Consortium” embroidered into it and bound together with rope.
Atlas was a hauler, a laborer who pulled cargo by hand between major trade posts. He had just left Tinith and was headed east for the Halfway Hold where his cargo was destined. The Fool’s Road was almost 200 miles long which would take almost two pentads with his wagon. Hauling cargo was a demanding job requiring great physical and spiritual strength, particularly for such great distances. Atlas was tall, muscular, hale, and hearty from years of manual labor. He had learned one technique from his father before setting out on his own, the Body of Peerless Strength, which to pushed the limits of his physical body by infusing it with qi. These two provided Atlas a maximum strength above the threshold needed to lift the wagon on two wheels and move for a short period on time, which was needed to turn the wagon.
Atlas kept up a steady walking pace pulling his wagon across the smooth stones of the Fool’s Road.
Most of Atlas’s attention was focused inward as he walked, there wasn’t much else to do. He cycled his qi in accordance with the Body of Peerless Strength. For most qi came as second nature, techniques became grounded in muscle memory and could be cycled subconsciously. Atlas knew no such luxury, his was a war as he wrestled with his crystal lung illness. Every breath he took was an aching pain that threatened to break his concentration. Every cycle was opposed and disrupted by the crystal dust in his lungs.
With every step Atlas sought to find balance. To pay attention to the road, the distant desert lines, and to the cycling of his qi. To have enough strength to haul the wagon on pace, but not so much as to burn through his qi stores. And yet with every step Atlas was found wanting.
After Atlas burned through most of his qi he stopped to rest. He was exhausted and needed time to recover both physically and spiritually.
He pulled his wagon off the road moving carefully over the crumbling edges of the road and set it down on the sand just beyond the road.
On the wagon, there was a chest at the front that held no goods bound for the Halfway Hold. There Atlas’s personal belongings lay, food, water, shelter, basic, spare parts and so on. Two spears lay on the last few inches between the chest and the edge of the wagon. They were stacked on top of each other and held in place with metal pegs which allowed quick removal while securing them against the motion of the wagon. From his storage chest he pulled out a small stool, a water skin, a bag of jerky, and a book.
Atlas sat in facing the setting sun and began reading his book and eating from the bag of jerky.
The jerky were strips of dried seasoned meat from a mix of animals, though between the smoke and spice rub he couldn’t tell what. The vendor had told him after some prodding that it was a mix of tainted beasts with the occasional Zurian fauna sprinkled in. In either case the animals were rich in qi, far more than normal meats. It was a good thing that he frequented the Halfway Hold which was situated near the Assuan Forest. The proximity to the Assuan Forest and the density of available tainted and Zurian beasts pushed down the cost of the otherwise premium product.
Atlas faced a major hurdle when it came to his hauls and his life at large, his crystal lung illness. In short, the illness caused him to use far too much qi. There were many modern solutions, external qi storage, synthetic organs, symbiotes, medical treatments, qi engines, and so on. Such solutions were at the moment out of reach for Atlas, too poor to purchase them and too unimportant to be allowed access. Atlas planned to find entry into one of the Pillars of the Order, ideally the first, third, or sixth, and gain access to a permanent solution.
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His temporary measure was the jerky which allowed him to recover his qi. However, it also meant that he spent most of his money that he made hauling on hauling and much of his time during hauls sitting around eating.
In his search for a solution, he had turned to ancient teachings of qi and martial arts. Deep within the Kereta Tinith Library there lay long forgotten scriptures of such teachings. Hailing from before the Empire, these old teachings were not secured from the commoners like later teachings. In addition, they were often written in allegory making them further indistinguishable from the other inane works of the time.
The book he read was the “Candles of the Twinfold Sect” a text that on the surface was a work on the materials, methods of production, and the resulting quality of the flame and candle. It took on the form of a series of conversations between a master candle maker and his students. Written in a time before even the empire, it was a miracle that a copy had survived till the modern day and a testament to the efforts of the Kereta Tinith Library. Certain sections of the book were very obtuse, especially noticeable considering that the Twinfold Sect had been reputable candle makers. Diving between the lines Atlas theorized that these could include be qi techniques. The patterns were similar to the other techniques he had deciphered from other texts.
Atlas finished his jerky after half an hour. By then he has recovered most of his qi. Putting away his belongings, Atlas rose and began hauling his wagon slowly making his way east to the Halfway Hold.
For the next six nights Atlas continued his haul, making it two thirds of the way to the Halfway Hold. He woke in the evening when the heat waned. His first act was to stuff himself with qi rich foods, his illness left him bereft of any qi after sleeping. He traveled at a steady walk until he had spent three quarters of his qi. Then he would rest for half an hour recuperating his qi with food. He repeated this all through the night until the wee hours of the morning. Only then would he set up his tent and sleep until the late afternoon.
As he traveled Atlas kept an eye on the desert around him. The night was lit by the celestial ring, hundreds of stars that formed a thin band in the night sky. He was watching for dangers, mainly tainted beasts. Ever since the Sundering of the Empire, tainted qi and Zurian fauna had flooded from the Assuan Forest, very close to his destination. Tainted qi corrupted creatures turning them into tainted beasts, these tended to be feral monstrosities that attacked and consumed all living things. He had been fortunate thus far, the only things he had seen were other travelers and the occasional patrol. Now though his good fortune dried up.
Atlas spotted a cloud of sand ahead of him on the road. It was growing rapidly and heading towards him far too fast to be outrun on foot let alone with a wagon in tow. Atlas slowly set down his wagon, he reached onto the wagon and placed his hand upon the worn smooth surface of his spear. Then he observed the sand cloud looking to discern its form.
An outline of a man slowly came into view through the cloud. It was accompanied by the crashing sound of metal on stone and an occasional bellow. Above the cloud of sand Atlas could barely make out the beginnings of a flag.
Light glinted off the metal armor of a giant man head and shoulders taller than Atlas. A Knight of the Order of the Pillars, his flag a white six-sided star on red cloth, fastened to a cross bar at the top of a pole. Qi crystals inlaid into the armor pulsed brightly, with those around his legs were the brightest.
Knights were a rare sight to behold, there were only a few hundred and of those most kept to the privileged heights of Tinith. They were the best of man, chosen through rigorous trials, schooled in the greatest library of the age, and hardened in the line of duty. The Knights had access to the vast resources of the Order and were well equipped. But what truly set the Knights apart was their understanding and application of qi. Unlike the archaic qi techniques like Atlas’s Body of Peerless Strength Knights used modern qi engines of crystal and metal to create efficient, modular, and directed techniques.
The Knight ran at the pace of a galloping horse and showed no signs of stopping and resting. To see a Knight in such a hurry and carrying a standard bore ill news.
The Knight’s voice rang loud and clear as he thundered towards Atlas. “Tinithians a great tainted horde is gathering in the Assuan Forest. This road is no longer safe. Seek shelter at the Halfway Hold or return to the city posthaste.”
Fuck
Atlas stood there as the Knight’s words sunk in. The work of a hauler was often riddled with complications, broken axles, tainted beasts, angry travelers, and the likes; the worst of which was a tainted horde. Atlas had learned from experience of many past hauls that the best approach was a clear head and calm mind.
Atlas paced back and forth thinking as the Knight rode off into the distance continuing his warning calls.
From what Atlas recalled of the tainted horde; It was quite rare for hordes to gather, the last horde had formed in the year 417, nearly two decades ago. The tainted wave was split into three distinctive components, an influx in tainted beasts, a medium sized host of Zurian Bonecrushers and large-scale natural disasters. These would begin after an indeterminate period of time, historically the quickest horde had taken a pentad to begin.
I need to make it to either the Halfway Hold or Tinith, but which to choose from. The Halfway Hold would be a horrible place to be stuck in the midst of a tainted wave and there is no way I could make it there and back to Tinith. Heading back to Tinith with a fully loaded wagon will take seven days, six if I push extra hard. This meant that if the tainted wave began in a pentad, I would have one more day of travel when the beasts spilled forth from the Assuan Forest. One day for the beasts to travel 230ish miles which is highly unlikely even more so compounded with an extremely early start to the tainted wave. II could also return without the cart which would be the lowest risk, but I would forgo the bonus for safely returning cargo. I will be out of a job for the duration of the tainted wave which could be quite a while.
Making up his mind Atlas picked up his wagon again. He turned back the way he came heading now back to Tinith. Now though there was a greater urgency in his movements, fear driving his steps forward.