We all walk out of the Guild Hall silently, taken aback by the knowledge of what we had uncovered, albeit accidentally. Walking down the cobblestone streets, we shambled our way toward the nearest tavern in a daze. The sun shone in the sky as dogs and children ran through the streets without a care. Merchants hocked their wares and patrons haggled or gossiped with them. Insects buzzed past us, the breeze occasionally blowing them off course. The world continued as if it were business as usual, while from our perspective everything had changed in an instant.
A mission that started with a "normal" snatch and grab led us to the Tomb of the Dread Emperor. That...thing...had ruled the Inesenor Empire and the Sultanate of Ris over 300 years ago, and done so for nearly a century. The Half-Orc had lived longer than most of either of his parent races, assassinated at the ripe old age of 127. His magic had come from long-forgotten lineage, a spark from somewhere in his family’s past. The magic surrounding him gave him power beyond what most ever encounter. A drive to understand it and to harness it for his purposes twisted him into one of the most terrible mages in all of Arteia’s history. The prevailing wisdom was that those who brought about his demise had buried him and the catacombs in which he was entombed. That’s what I’d been taught anyway. Now I’m just wondering if that quake was entirely natural or if something woke up in that labyrinth in the hopes of leading someone like us to it.
The tavern was fairly empty as we all made our way in, finding a seat in the back, on the second floor. Gratefully secluded from prying eyes and ears, we ordered ale, whiskey, and some morsels to help settle our churning stomachs. The news of something (we had a difficult time thinking of the Dread Emperor as a person and not just a force) so universally maligned having marked us didn’t exactly leave us with the most calming feelings. We had just started our adventuring careers, so why by the gods did it feel like we’d just drawn the shortest of straws? Imagine being the first week in a new job and you trample your boss’s favorite dog and accidentally set fire to his prize rose garden. At that point, you might wonder how much the universe has against you, right? I mean, sure I’m being melodramatic, but that’s what it feels like until we get an idea of how to stop this thing or I get hammered enough to stop thinking about it. Given the two, I think option two is most likely to happen in the foreseeable future. With that pleasant thought, I throw back a shot of whiskey and start the process.
”How in the Nine Hells did we stumble on something like this,” Vic asked, finally breaking the silence, “I mean, why us of all people?”
”I don’t know,” Sarah replied quietly, “I can’t fathom the odds of all this.”
”What about being marked,?” Reddan inquired, “Is this a Fate thing or is it a curse we can break if Galheros can work with one of his colleagues? We can’t expect he’ll have all the answers.”
I sit there, my head in my hands, trying to think back on how much I knew about the Dread Emperor. I’ve been taught his name, as I believe all races have in the last few hundred years. It’s one of those hits of history you need to remember in case the bastard ever comes back or someone tries to gather enough power to force history to repeat itself. The High Wardens, The Sword & Shield, and the Bright Council were supposed to keep track of an accumulation of Dark Magic and prevent this sort of this from happening if what the Academy had told us was accurate. The three organizations were there to balance each other, at least in theory. I start to wonder if Galheros is high enough in the Guild to know anyone in either group. Eventually, I realize how quiet it is, and look up. I’m somewhat surprised to see all eyes at the table staring at me. I start to wonder how long I’ve been in that position, and I suddenly realize our food and drinks have been delivered. I must have been thinking about it longer than I realized.
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”What’s going on in that head of yours, Cullen?” Ferrik pondered aloud, “Have you thought of anything that might help at all?”
”I’m not sure just yet,” I respond, “What do we know about The Dread Emperor or what’s been done to prevent his return?”
”Where are you going with this?” Reddan asked on the group’s behalf.
”If this book belonged to the Dread Emperor,” I begin my thought process, “surely we’ll be hearing from or at least about any of the Big Three. The High Wardens and the Sword & Shield should be sending someone to investigate. At some point, they’ll report to the Bright Council, who will assign Adventuring Teams from every country on Arteia so that nobody feels slighted or left out. We’re going to be in a state of chaos once the world is alerted by the Guilds and world leaders. The more I think on this, the more I see a war coming if we don’t get involved.”
”Why us, of all people?” Sarah asked, asking a reasonable question.
I mull over for a moment, getting my thoughts for a decent answer.
“Because we found this thing,” I answer confidently, “and it would be the height of irresponsibility if we didn’t follow through on how to make it right. I don’t know if we’ll be the ones to end this thing if the great bastard comes back from the grave. What I can tell you is that I’ll never sleep soundly again if I don’t at least try, and while I don’t know any of you well, I can say for sure that I’d rather have you four fighting beside me than anyone else. We got into this thing together and I’ll be damned if we don’t finish it the same way.”
A few seconds pass and they stare at me, gobsmacked. Reddan suddenly breaks the silence.
”Damn, man,” they started up, “I thought I was supposed to give the big speeches. You sure you’re not trained as a Bard?”
Laughter erupted, following Reddan’s response. We need it now more than I think any of us ever have. I have a feeling it’s going to be getting a lot worse before it gets better, so it’s nice right now to see the people around me enjoying themselves. We calm down a bit and finally share a deep drink, which we sorely need. After that, and with the sense of doom still lightly hanging in the air, we begin to enjoy our meal. The feeling is far thinner than it was a few moments ago, but I muscle through it and try just to let the sense of joy wash over me instead of the melancholy I’m sure will resurface later.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man in a maroon tunic and dark red cape look our way as he descends the steps toward the bar. I excuse myself from the gathering to fill my cup downstairs. Vic offers to accompany me, but I leave him there to enjoy the revelry and follow the man downstairs. I scan the area and indeed find him leaning alone against the empty far end of the bar. I walk over and ask the bartender for another mead, trying to quench my thirst. As I hand him the stein to refill, the man speaks to me without looking in my direction.
"Your lot is a little loud for what you've stumbled across," the man says, "but you're correct in your assumptions. We have gotten into high alert given this thing's awakening, as well as what it means for Arteia at large."
"Which group are you with," I ask, taking his lead and not turning to him, "the Sword & Shield?"
"Right in one," he said, his tone never changing, "so you're clearly a smart kid. Your instincts are clearly well-honed, though I expect that's been your key to surviving this long after the attack."
"Don't go down that road," I say, shifting my focus and giving him a cold stare, "I really don't feel like reliving that night."
"My point is," he said, returning my gaze, "you have good instincts and you should listen to them. They'll help you survive. I also came to tell you to follow whatever intuition you get while on your mission."
"We don't even have a mission yet," I say, looking back toward the bartender.
"You will, very soon," he said patting me on the shoulder as he slipped away, "Now go out there and do what needs doing. Go chase your calling."