“”King Irolos, a sovereign consumed by the pursuit of mastery over his unique abilities, would routinely retreat into isolation within his chambers for extended stretches. Within those secluded walls, he delved deeply into the intricate nuances of his powers, fervently absorbing the vast repository of worldly knowledge. The manner in which he sustained himself during these seclusions remained a closely guarded secret, known only to him and the benevolent rays of the sun. Speculation abounded that he might have drawn sustenance from his own potent powers, seemingly capable of disregarding the basic needs of his physical form—such was the extent of his extraordinary aptitude and indomitable strength.
A formidable decree loomed over his bedchambers, warning off any who dared to infringe upon his solitary studies. The consequences for such audacious intrusion were severe, swiftly and decisively dealt with.
Upon his reemergence from these self-imposed exiles, there was an observable shift in him. It seemed as though each seclusion propelled him forward, elevating his consciousness to a higher plane of wisdom. With each sequestered endeavor, he appeared one step closer to an enigmatic and inevitable ascension, as if drawing from the very essence of the sun itself to fuel his enlightenment.””
The morning sun filtered through slender gaps in the curtains, casting warm and gentle rays that embraced the book held in Five's hand, titled 'Crescents Chosen' by Solar Heirun. Neatly arranged nearby were five other books: 'Uses of Herbology' by Allestori Remel, an untitled leather-bound volume discussing hunting and butchery, 'Eternally Crescent,' a religious tome by Solar Ollru, and 'Metals and Minerals' authored by the Syndicate of Blacksmiths.
Five's quiet morning of reading was suddenly disrupted by the energetic entrance of Alle into his room. She burst in with a peculiar ensemble, her eyes concealed behind goggles that appeared almost as large as her head, and her hands clad in gloves as thick as a bison's fur. Her clothes were adorned with smudges of black soot, a testament to the fervent experimentation she had undertaken.
"Did you know!" Alle began with uncontainable enthusiasm, "Chori roots react incredibly aggressively when boiled with Grona fat. I was anticipating a modest reaction and had prepared myself for some level of impact, but what happened was far beyond anything I could have imagined! It's simply astonishing!"
Alle's eyes sparkled with the thrill of discovery as she spoke, her fervor infectious. She then remembered to offer a more conventional greeting and added with a grin, "Oh, by the way, good morning!" The juxtaposition of her soot-covered attire and the exuberance of her revelation created a comical yet endearing sight.
Five gently closed the book he had been reading and carefully set it back next to the other books. He turned his attention to Alle, who had interrupted his reading with her enthusiastic entrance.
"Thank you," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He had been making an effort to engage in conversation with Alle throughout the week, and his gratitude, though quiet, was genuinely felt.
Her grin widened, encouraged by his response. "I see that you've picked up the book I recommended!" Alle exclaimed. "It's fascinating to see how a perspective can change depending on the author and their intentions while penning the book. This one isn't entirely innocent either, but compared to the children's tale you were reading, it must be quite enlightening!”
With a warm smile, Alle removed her oversized goggles, revealing bright green eyes that shone with excitement and were brilliantly illuminated by the morning sunlight streaming through the window. Her eyes seemed to reflect not only the sunlight, but also the genuine enthusiasm she held for the day.
"Come!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with eagerness. "Accompany me for breakfast, and we'll continue our conversation as we eat."
Five, with a nod of agreement and a growing sense of anticipation, complied with her request. He carefully set aside his book, marking the page to return to later, and rose from his bed. As he followed Alle down the creaky wooden stairs, the old house seemed to come alive with the promise of a new day and the potential for intriguing discussions.
Upon entering the kitchen, a fascinating world of aromas greeted them. Alle's house had a reputation for harboring an ever-shifting tapestry of scents, each tied to her diverse experiments and endeavors. It was often challenging to discern exactly what she had prepared for their morning meal.
The table was set, and as they settled into their seats, the scent of freshly brewed tea and an assortment of dishes wafted through the air, tempting their taste buds. The conversation, infused with the aroma of breakfast, was destined to be as engaging and multi-layered as the scents that lingered throughout Alle's home.
Five sat down and gazed at his meal, savoring the delicious breakfast of fried eggs and dried beef. Alle's cooking over the past two weeks had spoiled his inexperienced taste buds.
"You've been spending quite some time reading. Is there anything specific you're looking for in that book about metals?" Alle's inquiry seemed oddly specific to Five, prompting a puzzled expression on his face.
Seemingly in response to his puzzled expression, Alle interjected with a playful yet exasperated tone etched on her face. "If this is about Rick, he's probably the only fool who'd pique your interest in it. What has he roped you into now?"
"Crimson...bane," Five muttered with a touch of urgency, seeking further insight from the book. The text mainly detailed the metal's properties and methods to locate its ore veins.
"Why read about it? Just head to the village and place an order for him. Hasn’t he provided you with the funds for this?" Alle queried, baffled by Five's interest. However, he had no response to her inquiry.
“Crimsonbane is an expensive metal, used in high-end ovens and forges. It's not something you stumble upon casually, especially not on this island,” she remarked, her irritation growing at Five's apparent cluelessness.
"The old fool has tasked you with an impossible feat if he hasn’t planned to support your endeavor," Alle concluded, a mix of concern and annoyance painted across her face.
Expensive. How could he afford it? The thought lingered briefly before considerations shifted. Stealing it might have crossed his mind, but dwelling on it seemed futile. He'd have to investigate in the village. How to afford it or acquire it legitimately was a question for another time.
Five pushed aside his plate, having finished his meal. He expressed his gratitude to Alle with a subtle nod, acknowledging her help. As his arm neared healing, the bulky cast reduced in complexity. Not fully functional yet, it showed signs of recovery. Packing the hunting and metals books, Five stowed them in a satchel. He waved a parting gesture to Alle, acknowledging her once more before stepping out.
Embarking into the unknown once more, Five wasn't driven by uncontrollable circumstances this time; it was a self-directed journey. Surviving confinement fueled a new purpose – a desire to navigate the mysteries of life, to find his place in the real world. Living for himself now, free from the need to please the Master.
The distant echo of Rick’s forge called to him, the craft of smithing too captivating to pass up. The seemingly impossible task of completing Rick’s mission loomed, yet a resilient determination urged him onward. Challenges aside, Five was resolute, ready to confront the obstacles and shape his destiny in the fires and steel of the forge.
As Five reached the end of his thoughts, he found himself standing once again on the ledge overlooking the village, a familiar spot from his earlier stroll with Alle. This time, he meticulously surveyed the village's geography, absorbing every detail — shop locations, winding roads, and the church perched atop. Sliding down from his vantage point after mentally mapping the area, he proceeded to the main road and through the bustling main gate. The crowd unnerved him; he had seldom been around more than a handful of people. The sheer multitude left Five feeling queasy in a way unfamiliar to his stomach.
With each step, the village's geography began to blur in Five's mind. A disorienting haze enveloped him, eroding his understanding of the surroundings. The initial purpose of his visit faded into obscurity. Surrounded by the multitude of people, Five's ingrained habit of always having an escape plan crumbled. The overwhelming number of potential dangers, the myriad uncertainties, left him vulnerable and terrified. The weight of the unfamiliar pressed down on him, amplifying his unease with every passing moment.
In a desperate move, Five sprinted into an alleyway, his surroundings spinning. Despite the chaos, he struggled to regain composure, reminding himself that this was nothing compared to what he had faced before. Yet, his mind continued to perceive danger, an involuntary response even when none was present. The dissonance between rational thought and instinctive fear intensified, creating a mental battleground within him.
Having distanced himself from the crowd, Five finally regained his composure, though what felt like mere moments to him had been hours in reality. The once bustling streets now seemed considerably calmer. Summoning his courage, he cautiously returned to the main street, where the number of people had significantly dwindled. While it was more manageable, he remained tense and on edge, the crowd was still too big for his liking.
Contemplating the path he had taken, Five found himself at a distance of ten paces from the village's grand wooden gate. Despite not delving deep into its heart, the intricate tapestry of buildings surrounded him, with alleyways weaving between them. Everything converged on the main road leading to the village center, where he hoped to find the elusive materials.
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A harmonious chaos of architecture painted the scene – quaint homes with weathered facades, each telling its own story, stood shoulder to shoulder. Narrow alleyways, like veins, crisscrossed the village, revealing hidden corners and secrets. The main road, a bustling artery, buzzed with activity, leading him toward the village's beating heart.
Approaching closer, the seductive aromas of diverse food stalls wafted through the air, tempting his senses. The lively vendors, each with their distinct calls, created a symphony of commerce, their voices competing for attention. Amid this bustling marketplace, words merged into an indistinguishable jumble, creating a chaotic backdrop to the vibrant ambiance.
Navigating through the busy town's center, Five wove his way amid a bustling roads of color and sound. Stalls lined both sides of the narrow lanes, each one displaying a vibrant array of goods. Vendors called out to passersby, haggling and touting their wares. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spices, sizzling street food, and the occasional whiff of leather from nearby crafts.
As he ventured deeper into the heart of the bazaar, the chaos intensified. The narrow lanes converged into a lively hub where the clamor of transactions reached a crescendo. People hurried past, juggling bags and baskets, creating a vibrant mosaic of movement.
Amidst this lively chaos, Five's eyes caught sight of a more permanent structure, a store stood out from the temporary stalls. Unlike the makeshift stalls, this establishment exuded a sense of permanence, its signboard indicating a diverse range of goods within. Intrigued, Five made his way towards this more established spot, hoping to find the materials he sought within its walls.
Reaching the center of the village, where stores converged, anxiety tightened its grip, causing him to clutch his backpack strap until feeling left his fingers. Surveying the area, he identified a shop that seemed to offer a diverse range of items.
Within the general goods store, the air was thick with the comforting scent of aged wood and the faint aroma of rot. The uneven stone floor, worn smooth by countless footsteps, creaked under the occasional shuffle of customers perusing the wares. Dimly lit by flickering lanterns suspended from wooden beams overhead, the interior exuded an intimate warmth.
Shelves carved from sturdy oak lined the walls, displaying an assortment of goods. Handcrafted pottery, simple leather goods, and bundles of dried herbs shared space with metal utensils and basic tools. The wares, each telling a story of craftsmanship, were carefully arranged, creating a mosaic of colors and textures.
Behind a worn wooden counter, the shopkeeper stood ready to assist. Parchments detailing prices were pinned on the wall, and a wooden abacus hinted at the simplicity of the store's accounting. Crates and barrels, some brimming with grains and others with bolts of fabric, added to the sense of abundance within the cozy space.
He was confronted by the welcoming smile of a tall man with a twirly mustache. The shopkeeper greeted him warmly, "Welcome to Baburon’s loots. How can I help you, young man?" The sound of the shopkeeper's voice cut through the remaining tension, offering a brief respite from the apprehension that had accompanied Five on his journey through the crowded village.
"Ho..rrrn...zetat?" Five tried to say, but struggled with a hoarse voice he had grown more accustomed to. Speaking remained somewhat challenging, especially with people he was not used to. Seeing the shopkeeper's puzzled expression, he reached into his satchel and pointed at the page describing the object in question, silently communicating his request through the written word.
The shopkeeper, a weathered figure with a hint of amusement in his eyes, shook his head. "Horn of a Zetar! I see, Nah my friend, you won't snag that here. For something like that, you'll need to swing by the Hunter's Association. They're likely to have the oddities you seek."
Five nodded, taking a mental note of the shopkeeper's suggestion. "... Crimsonbane?" he then asked, shifting his attention to a particular corner of the store, his words barely audible as if wrapped in a comprehensible whisper.
The shopkeeper's eyes lit up with a touch of pride. "Ah, now you're talking. We've got a stash of Crimsonbane, the finest quality you can find. Directly imported, mind you, all the way from the scorching desert region. Top-notch, but fair warning, the price might give you a bit of a jolt. Quality comes at a cost, my friend."
Five's gaze lingered on the Crimsonbane, an alluring sight that sparked a flame within him. His goal seemed within reach, yet the immediate challenge loomed. He discreetly surveyed his surroundings, searching for any opportunity to acquire it, but no chance presented itself. Attempting theft was risky; he had already drawn attention by inquiring about the rare metal. Moreover, he would be the prime suspect.
The price tag was five 50 silver Solarine. While he might not know much about the worth of Solarine, he had only ever seen the less valuable bronze Solarine where one silver equaled 100 of its bronze variant. Comparing it to other items' prices only emphasized its apparent expense.
Regardless of the challenges, Five recognized that his objective for the day was clear—to discern the necessary requirements and establish a tangible goal. With the vision of Crimsonbane firmly in his mind, he decided it was time to explore the hunter's shop, hoping to find the tools or information he needed to inch closer to his coveted prize. Stepping forward with determination, he navigated through the store, keeping his purpose in sharp focus.
"Horn of … Association" This time, his confidence, though audible in his clear speech, had betrayed him. Despite his efforts to articulate his thoughts, the order became entangled, and he found himself stumbling over the words.
He cleared his throat and tried once more.
“Hunter’s association, is that where I can find the horn?”
The shopkeeper, a seasoned individual with a knowing glint in his eyes, leaned on the counter. "Aye, indeed. If you're after a Zetar horn, the Hunter's Association is your best shot. Not only can you find it there, but you'll likely get a better deal. It's a bit of a commodity around here. But, if you're feeling adventurous, you might stumble upon it in a few scattered shops. Still, going directly to the source saves you a decent amount of coin."
Five nodded in appreciation. "C-could you tell me where?”
The shopkeeper chuckled. "You'll find them at the northern outskirts of the village, a good hundred steps or so west of the old chapel. Can't miss it if you keep an eye out for the Hunter's emblem swinging on a signpost. Good luck on your hunt, my friend."
The road leading to the northern outskirts of the village was a cobblestone path, worn smooth by the countless footsteps of villagers and travelers alike. On either side stood quaint buildings, their facades a mix of timber and thatch. Some displayed wooden signs, bearing symbols that hinted at the trade within a blacksmith's anvil, a mortar and pestle for an herbalist, and a hunter's emblem swinging proudly on a signpost.
As Five approached the Hunters Association shop, he found himself stepping into a haven for those with a penchant for the wild. The store exuded the rustic charm of a hunting lodge, adorned with trophies of past conquests and the rich scent of tanned leather. A couple hunters, adorned in various furs and carrying rugged weapons, browsed the shelves stocked with traps, snares, and assorted tools of the trade. The atmosphere was alive murmurs of strategies and tales of daring hunts, creating a tapestry of experiences that enveloped those within the shop's embrace.
Behind the worn wooden counter stood an old hunter, his eyes weathered with the wisdom of countless expeditions. Beside him, a younger companion, cocky and full of energy, exuded an air of confidence that belied his years.
"Hey there, young lad! Haven’t seen you around before. What business do you have?" The hunter's voice boomed, curiosity twinkling in his eyes as he sized up the newcomer.
"Horn of a Zetar," replied Five, straightforward and confident, unaware of the ripple his request would cause.
Laughter erupted from the people at the counter, a collective amusement that seemed to puzzle Five. He stood there, trying to decipher the source of their mirth, a mix of confusion and mild irritation creasing his brow. Among the onlookers was a kid, seemingly of Five's age, who shot him a condescending look before boldly circling around the counter and drawing near.
Five's survival instincts kicked in, a quiet readiness to defend his personal space evident in his stance. As the kid closed in, the atmosphere in the shop shifted, the once jovial mood taking on an awkward tension.
"Sorry, kid. We don’t mean to insult you; the way you worded it, as if it’s a normal request, just had a shock value, that’s all," the shopkeeper explained, attempting to defuse the situation with an apologetic tone.
The kid, however, continued with a smug smile, taking the opportunity to deliver a condescending quip, "The pack loses good men every year just to catch a Zetar and relish in its glory. It’s not something a pipsqueak like you could attain to gift your mother for her self-pleasure time."
The kid closed in on Five, pushing him back. As the kid's hand barely landed on Five, an explosion of movement occurred. Five swiftly ripped the metal cast off his healing arm, transforming it into an improvised weapon. In one fluid motion, he aimed for the kid's throat with lethal precision. A palpable killing intent permeated the air, triggering a quick response from one of the hunters. Sensing the imminent danger, the seasoned hunter vaulted over the counter, intervening to save the young troublemaker from potential harm.
Reacting swiftly, Five jumped backward, assuming a defensive stance. Prepared for whatever may come next, he focused on the unfolding situation, the improvised weapon still clutched in his hand, ready for any further developments.
"Some temper you have? The hair color isn’t just for show, I see. I apologize for the disrespect of my apprentice," the shopkeeper interjected, attempting to smooth over the awkwardness that had settled in the store. The shopkeeper's tone carried a mixture of sincerity and a hint of worry. If he hadn't stepped in, he was certain his apprentice would be in serious trouble. The atmosphere in the store shifted, and the onlookers exchanged glances, grateful for the shopkeeper's intervention to diffuse the potentially volatile situation.
Surprised by the unexpected apology from the hunter, Five shifted his gaze to his arm, realizing that he had torn off Rick's cast. A wave of concern washed over him as he wondered about Alle's reaction to this unforeseen turn of events. The tension in the air lingered, and Five braced himself for the aftermath of his impulsive actions. Despite the unintended consequences, one positive revelation emerged — his arm felt fine, completely healed. A sense of relief washed over Five as he acknowledged the unexpected silver lining amidst the chaos.
Observing the terrified apprentice, it became evident that the young one posed no threat. Five, with a cold snort, stowed the metal cast back into his backpack, conveying his disdain. Without uttering a word, he left the shop, the lingering tension dissipating with his departure. The atmosphere in the Hunters Association shop settled, leaving behind a palpable sense of unease.
"What an uneasy young man, I swear I could see his hair flare up for a second," the hunter commented, observing the aftermath of the exchange.
The boy who had been on the receiving end of Five's reaction instantly reacted to his tutor's nonchalant attitude. "That bastard could’ve killed me! And you don’t even defend my honor?! You granted him mercy just because he had a broken arm!"
"Granted him mercy? You misjudge the situation, Gofaret. You unwarrantedly insulted him, and because of what? Just because he asked about something he didn’t know the value of? You might be talented in chasing wild beasts, but wild beasts run havoc within your mind!" The tutor's response held a mixture of reproach and disappointment, as if he expected better from his apprentice.
As dusk settled and darkness crept in, the newly acquired silence of the streets made Five realize he needed to make a detour to Rick's place to attempt to conceal the evidence of the altercation. By the time he reached the house, the moon had ascended, casting an eerie glow. The familiar clanking of metal emanated from Rick's shop, a nightly symphony that served as both a reminder and a cover for Five's hurried actions.
“I see that you’ve made upgrades on my design,” Rick remarked, inspecting the broken contraption on Five’s arm. It was clear that Five had attempted to clumsily fix it himself.
“C-c.. could you…” Five couldn’t even look up to Rick, ashamed of what he had done to the cast.
“While I could fix it easily, from the way you hold your arm now, I’d say it healed quite nicely. How about instead, you return to Alle’s place and have her have a look. If it’s warranted, I’ll fix it tomorrow,” Rick suggested, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and understanding.
He left the cozy atmosphere of the forge and made his way back home. A tinge of stress lingered on his mind. What will Alle’s reaction be, he wondered. The uncertainty clung to him like a shadow as he navigated the familiar paths, the weight of impending conversations and revelations adding a layer of tension to the evening air.
“Hmmmmm,” Alle made a noise and looked at Five’s arm with a concerned but mostly angry look, not uttering a word and expecting an explanation.
“I… I-uh… I’m sorry,” Five stammered, his head pointing at the carpets covering the floorboards, not daring to raise it out of shame.
“We’ll get to how this happened later, but first. Congratulations! Your arm has healed splendidly. That frog spit mixture worked wonders; I’ll have to make a detailed report on this for future usage," Alle remarked, her tone a blend of scolding and approval. She left Five's side and took a seat, signaling for him to do the same.
“How did you break your cast?” she inquired, her tone softening slightly.
“Someone….” Five began to explain, but before he could continue, Alle interrupted, saying, “Actually, never mind. We have something even more important to discuss now that you've healed.”
She grabbed the pipe next to her once more, reminiscent of the time he first arrived.
“Who are you really, Whispers?” she asked, her eyes piercing and expectant. The question hung in the air, demanding an answer that went beyond the physical realm of injuries and mended bones.