Water lapped against the hull of Draugr’s Haunt, the waves of the black sea rocking the longship as it traversed through the darkening sea. The day was ending soon, and with it came the unbearable darkness that was nighttime.
James watched the ocean from the rear of the ship, the salty wind brushing against his dark cloak. He tapped his fingers sporadically on the railing, his focus on the hull as the waves relentlessly crashed against it.
Tap tap tap
With every second, the waters grew louder. The wind turned deafening. James’ sporadic tapping grew faster and faster, his fingers going numb from the cold.
Tap tap tap
James bit his tongue as the sounds grew overbearing, to the point where it threatened to make him go deaf. The waves sounded like tidal waves, the winds similar to hurricanes. His taps were akin to gunshots, each one echoing out in his mind.
It’s your fault.
James stiffened at that, his taps faltering. Regardless, he continued. He did his best to disregard the distant voice in the back of his mind.
You know it’s your fault.
James was silent. He concentrated on tapping on the rail. His focus was on the sounds that filled his ears. He was certain to go deaf.
It’s your fault it’s your fault it’s your fau–
“Love?”
Dahlia’s voice cut through James’ thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He blinked in surprise, the sounds of his surroundings now back to their normal volume. James looked up at the cloudy sky, which darkened little by little as the day ended. The lack of light made it hard for James to make out anything, as even the people on deck were unrecognizable.
Regardless, James didn’t have to squint to know where Dahlia was. He shifted in his spot, his gaze moving to the Shaman in his arms. She was resting her head back on his chest, her amber eyes looking up at him with a sense of worry.
“What’s up?” James asked.
“Your heartbeat,” Dahlia muttered. “It went up. That, and you’re fidgeting again. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” James flashed her a smile in an attempt to comfort her. “I’m just thinking about the errands I’m going to have to run once we get home.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Dahlia whispered. Her hand gently reached over to grab at his, stopping the young Jarl’s tapping. “It’ll be nighttime soon. Best if we both head to bed once we get to the island.”
“You know I can’t do that,” James responded with a sigh. “I still need that physical from Malik. It’s that time of the month again.”
The physical James was referencing was the one Malik the necromancer had proposed not long after the midsommar incident. Once a month, Malik would do a full examination of James. The necromancer would scry his ley lines and study the bond between him and Faust.
Surface level, it made some sense. James had been hit with the raw power of Azura’s ley lines on the verge of death. The fact that he was alive after such a power increase was a miracle. It made sense that Malik would examine James afterward to study the aftereffects of such a thing.
The real reason James wanted these physicals done was to make sure that abomination didn’t infect him with some kind of sickness. He wanted to be damn sure that he wasn’t at risk of turning into those things.
He didn’t care that it promised him that there would be no side effects. There was no way in hell that he’d take its word for it.
“Can’t it wait?” Dahlia groaned.
“No,” James sighed. “I’ll be too busy tomorrow. I need it done tonight. Sorry.”
Dahlia visibly frowned at that but didn’t say anything. Instead, the Shaman simply rested her head back on James’ chest, her hand still holding onto his. Both of them were silent, the only sounds being the movements of the longship and the idle conversations the surrounding crew were having.
It wouldn’t be long before Yorktown was in view, the island’s distant lights acting as a beacon for the ship. James watched as the distant harbor grew closer, the buildings that made up the town becoming visible. He could see a multitude of other ships docked at the bustling harbor, their bluish sails lit by the lanterns that hung by their mast.
Those were trader ships from Areno, sent in by Tahir’s own company. What had once been a couple of ships passing by had turned into a full stream of merchants. All of them were varying in destination and purpose. Some were from the capital Dallah, their destinations set on the bigger cities such as Vindis and Bernis. Others were coming from the far north, their sights set on heading back to Areno after a long voyage in Valenfrost.
A few however, simply came to visit the hometown of the Draugr. The man who was the stuff of legends in the south. They came to trade with the island, to barter with the locals. It wasn’t like the town was solely offering fish anymore.
The refugees from Aldren had once been artificers and smiths, their craft enough to warrant commendation from Yorn Halvorson himself. It was natural that they were skilled enough to start a trade on the secluded island, selling their services and stock to Arenian traders.
There were also the plays Elaine the bard had set up. Ever since the bard had started up her theatrics in Yorktown, her plays had become the source of entertainment on the island. The stories she told were entertaining enough to gain popularity in the south prompting many to come and visit just to witness them.
James turned to the other side of the ship, where said bard was currently napping. Elaine had come along for the raid, to document and chronicle the event. What ended up happening was that the bard couldn’t handle the violence that had transpired. James felt bad for exposing the young woman to such a sight. Especially since she had been in the frontlines during the midsommar incident.
Elaine had obviously been scarred by the battle, and it was clear she had never seen such violence up close. It had changed her entire perspective on war and the brutal reality of battle. James could only hope she would recover from the experience.
James glanced at the island once more, his focus on the mountain that was its centerpiece. The same mountain he had been summoned to. The same one where everything had changed for him. James couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten at the sight of it. Just looking at the mountain was enough to make him nervous.
For what reason, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.
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The harbor was busy, as expected. Despite it being night time, the docks were swarmed with people, the salty air filled with conversation as everyone went off to attend to their errands and jobs.
Most people here were simple tradesmen and merchants, their focus on transporting their stock and selling it off to anyone who even seemed remotely interested. Some of the folk here, however, were only there to give their greetings and praises to the longship that had recently docked.
James could see how the townspeople waved and shouted their greetings to Draugr’s Haunt crew, their voices all calling out to James. While he couldn’t hear them properly over the sounds of the harbor, he could make out a couple of the calls.
“Welcome back, my Jarl!”
“Was your conquest successful?”
“Did you show those bloody orcs hell?!”
James couldn’t help but chuckle at the comments, his cheeks reddening as he stood up from his spot on the ship. He stepped up to the deck bridge, his arms extended as he gestured to the townsfolk who were crowded around the harbor.
“The conquest was successful!” James shouted out. “Aldren has been retaken from the orcs!”
There was a round of cheers and applause, some of the men in the crowd moving to James to embrace him. James didn’t resist it at all. He recognized some of the folks as refugees from the retaken island, their joyous faces telling him that this was something truly important to them.
“To the tavern! Let’s celebrate!” They all shouted together, their voices ringing out into the air. James couldn’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm.
“As much as I’d like to drink with you all, there is business I must attend to,” James called out.
The crowd around him lost their energetic mood, their groans sounding out.
“Don’t worry, once the week is over, we shall all share a drink,” James reassured them. “Besides, the rest of the brave men and orcs are still at Aldren. It’d be unfair to celebrate this victory without them.”
His words gained a few answers of approval, some of the townsfolk nodding their heads.
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“Now then, if you mind…” James watched as the crowd parted, clearing a path for him in the harbor. The young clan leader looked back at Dahlia, who was watching all of this with crossed arms and a smile.
Both Shaman and Jarl walked off into the settlement of Yorktown unbothered.
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Elaine was probably not cut out to be a bard. At least, that’s what it was starting to look like. The young woman hadn’t been able to handle the violence at the Aldren raid, her stomach lurching at the sight of blood. She had thought that maybe, perhaps, hopefully, she had gotten over her fears after the mess that was Midsommar.
She had faced death right in its face during that fateful night, her bardic castings enough to help change the tide in battle. It was a song of valor in the making, a story to be sung about for generations.
Yet, whenever Elaine attempted to write the story in song form, images from that night came to her mind. The mangled corpses, the puddles of crimson that pooled around her as that necromancer collected his prize.
Elaine held back the urge to heave as she stepped onto Yorktown’s harbor. She swallowed hard, her fist lightly hitting her chest. Perhaps Elaine was never supposed to be a bard. At least, not the kind who followed prospective heroes and chronicled famous battles.
James was someone with potential. Dangerous potential, but potential nonetheless. Elaine recalled something Master Alder had taught her back in the academy of the arts. The I/C line was a gauge for bards to follow as they searched for heroes to follow. Elaine racked her brain as she tried to figure out what I and C stood for.
‘I stands for Idiot… and I think C stands for…Chemist? No, it was a trade.’
Elaine had never been the best when it came to remembering lessons. Regardless, the I/C line taught bards that they should look for someone who didn’t lean too far in either idiocy or mediocrity. If they followed someone dangerous, chances were that despite living in constant action, they’d eventually meet their end soon. Which would leave them dead and their bard with little to chronicle.
However, if the person they followed played things too safe, then their lives would be unbelievably boring and uninteresting. Like a carpenter.
‘Oh, that was it,’ Elaine thought as she walked through Yorktown. She had to squeeze her way past the crowds as she mulled over her past lessons, her focus mostly on just getting to the small hovel she called home.
Elaine thought about James and where he’d fit on the I/C line. She initially thought him to be perfectly set in the center, but now she wasn’t sure. He was dangling ever so nearer to danger, his spot on the line stupidly close to the Idiot. Then again, Elaine couldn’t really blame him for his bad run of luck. The man had nearly died during the Vindis battle. Hel, she was so sure that he did die. Elaine had watched on as James was kicked into the deep sea, his body a bloody mess.
Even now, she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. Her songs and stories were on a hiatus for the moment, as the entire night of battle was still fresh on her mind. The pain and the exhaustion all weighed heavily on her soul.
‘Master Alder never told me it’d be this hard. How’d he do it?’
Elaine sighed in defeat. Yes, maybe following heroes into dangerous frays wasn’t her style after all, despite all the work she put into finding someone fit for her ballads. Perhaps it was time to try something new without all the hassle of putting herself in constant danger.
With a practiced motion, Elaine slung her lute into her hands, her fingers thoughtfully plucking a couple strings as she entered a much less crowded area of town. There, the sounds of people were dampened to be much more tolerable.
She played a couple light songs as she walked, the notes comforting her. At least she had the arts. Music would always be there for her, its soothing touch comforting. Elaine would play her lute as she mumbled a couple of old bard songs, a skip in her step as she made her way through Yorktown. After a minute, she would forget what it was that had her upset.
As she walked through the narrow streets, Elaine couldn’t help but catch sight of one of her posters on a nearby wall. A new play was scheduled for later that week. She grimaced at the sight. The plays, while entertaining and profitable, were beginning to drag on her. It had been fun for the first couple of months, but it had grown tiring as she was forced to redo plays and rehash storylines.
‘Perhaps it’s time to try something new,’ Elaine thought as she passed by the poster. She had some ideas, most of them stemming from the rumors of where James had come from. Earth sounded interesting despite what little she managed to gather. Perhaps she could talk with the Jarl about it sometime.
Elaine whistled softly as she headed home.
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In the months following Bloom, the White Raven clan had contributed to building new homes and shops, growing the town beyond its borders. Even the once-burnt part of town had been remade into an extension of the marketplace, leaving more room for opportunity.
James knew how important it was to expand on that part of Yorktown. The economy was vital to the settlement’s growth. The importance of trade was unspeakable. It was the dawn of civilization, the reason why cities and towns existed in the first place.
The marketplace of Yorktown was filled with traders and merchants from everywhere. From the isolated hamlets in the midst of the island, to the passing merchants from Areno. It brought everyone together and strengthened the town.
James recalled the first time he had been here, back when he was still a newcomer to this world. The many small stands and tents that were set up around the marketplace, their owners trading goods with townsfolk and local fishermen. It had only been a year back, yet James looked back upon that day as a fond distant memory.
So much had happened since then. The marketplace had even diminished, its cobbled and worn road accompanied by only dust and the wandering drunk. It had been like that until James brought back merchants and traders to Yorktown, increasing his standing and revitalizing the town.
It took a lot of work—and some bribes—but James had eventually brought the town’s market square back to its former glory. If anything, he probably overdid it.
“There’s more people here tonight,” Dahlia murmured as the couple pushed past a crowd. Both of them had their hoods up, making sure they wouldn’t be recognized in the busy market.
“I suppose Vindis is floating closer this time of the year,” James guessed aloud as they passed by two men who looked suspiciously like thieves.
“Great,” Dahlia said with a grimace. “More people to navigate through. Even New Aldren is getting hard to walk through without bumping into anyone.”
“Town’s growing faster by the month,” James pointed out. Despite filtering all those who came to visit and interviewing those who wanted to live here, the island was increasing in population like crazy. James obviously didn’t want to overdo it, as too many people can spell out disaster for the growing town. He had some ideas and suggestions from the council, but he needed some time to think it over.
“Is it bad to say that I miss the days when there was no one on the streets?” Dahlia asked.
“If I’m being honest,” James grunted as he squeezed through another chokepoint in the street, his left hand still gripping onto Dahlia’s. “I kinda miss the ghost town feel.”
Both got through the crowded center unscathed, the streets of Yorktown opening up a little more and allowing them to walk side by side unbothered. James couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief, his gaze moving to Dahlia. Despite the hood covering half her face, he could see a hint of the same feeling he had. Relief.
“How’s deciphering that tome of yours?” James asked as they walked on for a bit. Dahlia perked up at that, her eyes twinkling as she looked up at him.
“Shaman Dres’ tome?” she asked.
“Who else?” James raised an eyebrow at her question.
“Well, I’ve been working on interpreting some other works,” Dahlia admitted. “Malik allowed me to look through some tomes he had on hand.”
“Malik’s tomes?” James asked. That gave him some worry. If she was studying necromancy…
“Just some things on rituals and undead,” Dahlia said nonchalantly. “Things that could help me understand your condition some more.” She then noticed James’ discomfort. “I’m not planning on using any of the spells there, of course. Don’t worry about me.”
“Of course,” James said with a nervous chuckle before he decided to change the subject. “Anything interesting about Dres’ tome?”
“Well,” Dahlia said. “He’s mentioned some interesting things, things that can help. But…”
“Nothing useful?” James guessed.
Dahlia shook her head. “No, there are a few useful tidbits of information. He mentions something called Chrystalchemy. Not sure what exactly it is, but from what I’ve managed to gather from his notes, it’s a type of magic that can store power into crystals.”
James raised an eyebrow at that. “Like spell crystals?”
“No. Not like that,” Dahlia said. “Spell crystals can only store low-power spells. Castings like Illuminate and Communicate. They’re more like cheap alternatives to runes. The crystals Shaman Dres mentioned… They seem to store something else entirely. Like reserves.”
James slowed his walking, his brow furrowing. “Like spell reserves?”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Dahlia muttered. “His notes mention that if consumed, the user can use its reserve of power. However, he failed to specify the extent of its effects. I still need to read up on all his journals.”
James recalled the stacks upon stacks of books that were stored away in the hut he and the Shaman shared. They had all been Shaman Dres’ tomes and journals, his teachings and entries all stored in them. Despite knowing him for years, Dahlia had barely scratched the surface of those tomes.
She hadn’t been invested in learning much magic until Yorktown was threatened for the first time by rogue bandits. Dahlia had then read up on summoning demons from the late Shaman’s books, which had resulted in James’ own summoning.
Which in turn caused a domino effect that resulted in her vigorously researching what she could to figure out ways to protect the town and her friends. Even after over a year of this, Dahlia had only managed to get through one stack.
“Don’t push yourself too hard,” James mentioned. “I don’t want you to stress yourself out too much.”
Dahlia narrowed her gaze at him. “Quite rich coming from you.”
James couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I suppose it is, huh?”
They both continued on their walk through the town, lamp posts, and lanterns illuminating the night and falling snow. Townsfolk laughed and joked as they passed by, their expressions a far cry from what they had been a year prior.
James even recognized some of them as folk who had once helped rebuild the burnt town buildings. Either from constructing new homes, or simply sweeping ash from the streets and alleys. Now they walked about with smiles and grins, some going into their steady homes and others sweeping the snow from the main path.
The couple would eventually reach a courtyard out in the center of town, where more people walked about to reach their destinations. Most of which ended up being the tavern that sat nearby.
The same tavern where James met Seamus for the first time. Where he had planned with Felix to defend the town from the marauders. Where he drank and danced with his friends during Bloom.
Of course, the reminiscing soon turned to dreadful remembrance when he laid eyes on the courtyard again. He focused on a spot near the center, its stone covered by snow and dirty footprints. Yet, he swore he could still see the dried pool of crimson and the drag marks that led to the east.
James felt Dahlia tug at his arm, her whispers reaching him. “Let’s go. It’s getting late.”
He nodded, and they both headed off to the town’s border, where the forest awaited them.