The guild hall was thick with tension as Caledryn stood before the massive sprawling oak table, its surface littered with maps, reports, and requisition forms. At this point, Caledryn’s mission was common knowledge to everyone. Word travels fast when it pertains to the Vescarid invasion. They spoke in hushed tones, casting glances at the scout and turning back to each other when he sought to meet their gaze as if no one wanted to be the last person to look a dead man in the eyes. That was if the rumors were true.
“Caledryn, we wouldn’t ask this if we weren’t stretched so thin,” Guildmaster Eryndor said, his voice low and gravelly from years of shouting commands. His calloused hands rested heavily on the table as he leaned forward, steel-gray eyes locking onto Caledryn’s. “The situation near the capital is... untenable to say the least. Every able-bodied adventurer we have is focused on containing that hive. This,” he gestured to a hastily marked map of Ashvale and its surroundings, “is on you.”
Caledryn nodded, his expression neutral despite the stomach-churning news. “I understand. You’ll get your report.”
The guild master straightened, his broad shoulders heaving with a sigh. “I’m authorizing you a teleportation crystal, but only one, we can’t spare any more. Should you not return, or return with grave news, we will need all Ashvale crystals to send backup,” Eryndor lifted one hand to his face, rubbing his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “We only have a handful, if things are truly building up to the extent your contact informed you, we will need to send troops by foot as well. Use the crystal to get back to the Ironridge if—”
“When,” Caledryn interjected. “When things go south.”
Eryndor grunted. “If things go south. That crystal is your lifeline. Don’t waste it. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
The officers murmured their agreement, but Caledryn’s focus shifted to the map. His gloved hand traced the route from the capital to Ashvale. The distance wasn’t insurmountable, but the thought of what awaited him churned uneasily in his gut.
“I’ll report in as soon as I reach Ashvale,” Caledryn said, stepping back from the table. “Expect my first missive in three days.”
Eryndor clasped his hand firmly, trying to hide the air of desperation in a man with no other options. “Good luck.”
Caledryn didn’t reply beyond a professional salute. Nervously he clutched his satchel as he stepped out of the guild and onto the sprawling streets of the capital, Aetherion. The game had only been out for a month, and Caledryn–or Nathan, as he was called in the real world– had spent nearly every moment he had within Transcendence.
He was a professional gamer, as were most members of The Obsidian Vanguard. He had the cybernetic implants allowing him to plug in the VitaRegen Matrix, allowing players to plug in an apparatus to recycle waste products and feed them a steady supply of nutrients allowin them to stay plugged into a highly advanced VR capsul for fifteen days at a time. Afterwards they would need to empty the waste and attach a new nutrient pouch.
The company that created this rather expensive rig managed to lobby for the rest requirement to be dismissed, but his guild insisted on such a period. They told all of their members that they would need to take a day at minimum to eat some real food, hydrate, spend at least four hours performing moderate physical exercise, and get a full eight hours of sleep. This didn’t stop the degradation of their bodies after so much time remaining sedentary, but it helped curb the effects, hence the minimum requirement. Even the most hardcore players wouldn’t wait the full fifteen days before logging out, they also would go above and beyond on the self-care, as multiple breaks of this type allowed for them to maintain average levels of health for any non-gamer.
Aetherion was the beating heart of the world’s civilization, a marvel of engineering and magic intertwined. The streets sprawled outward in concentric circles from the towering Nexus Spire, a structure so massive it seemed to pierce the heavens. Its peak was encased in a massive crystal that contained unfathomable magical energy, casting shifting rainbows over the districts below as light poured into it. At its base, the Council of Eight ruled the city, their presence felt throughout the city as they controlled every rule and regulation that passed over the lands.
The streets were alit with activity. Merchants from every corner of the world traded their wares, their stalls more beautiful than any in all the kingdom, with goods to match. A group of elven performers played melodies on crystalline instruments with such beauty that few were free from their enchanting alure. Self-driving carriages infused with magical arcane spells hummed as they weaved effortlessly through the cobbled roads, the noble elite that were carried within pressing past the horse-drawn wagons laden with goods.
Caledryn navigated through the bustling crowd, his boots clicking against the polished stone streets. The capital wasn’t just a city; it was a world unto itself. Humans, elves, dwarves, and dozens of other races moved shoulder to shoulder, each one contributing a unique craft to the city that topped all cities.
Despite its beauty, Caledryn couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Aetherion seemed almost decadent in comparison to the tension that was growing beyond the walls. The Vescarid threat always loomed in the minds of the Council and the guilds, but here, life continued as if nothing could disrupt its rhythm.
He passed through the Market District, the scents of roasted meats and exotic spices filling the air, then onto the Arcane Quarter, where spires glimmered with runes and magical energy. Mages in flowing robes darted between workshops and libraries, their hands often full with heaps of magical tombs.
Finally, the road began to widen, leading toward the Grand Portal Plaza. The noise of the city seemed to fade as he approached, though not by much, as travelers lined up to access the portal. The plaza was massive with intricate patterns carved into its surface. Thousands of adventurers, traders, and emissaries bustled about, their voices muffled by the consistent thrum of pulsing energy radiating from the portal.
The portal itself was a masterpiece. An archway of pure energy that flickered as the vortex of magical energy spiraled into itself, shades of blue, purple, and gold swirled about, its surface rippling like water. Magical constructs hovered nearby, maintaining its stability and ensuring the safety of the constant stream of travelers moving to and from distant towns.
Caledryn paused, taking in the sight before him. No matter how many times he had seen it, the portal’s majesty struck a chord deep within him. As his gaze lingered on the adventurers disappearing into its glow, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut, or maybe it was his chest? The world outside Aetherion wasn’t like this. It wasn’t safe as long as the Vescarid threat loomed, more so with this new report.
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He approached the portal attendant, passing over the hundreds waiting patiently in the queue. He handed over his authorization form. The mage nodded, his fingers flicking through the air as he summoned the precise coordinates for Ironridge.
“You’ll arrive just outside their main mining depot,” the mage said. “There’s not much to worry about in the heart of Ironridge, but watch yourself, the mountains can be treacherous.”
Caledryn offered a curt nod, his jaw tightening as the portal’s hum grew louder. “Where I’m going is far more treacherous,” he said dismissively before stepping into the archway, the light engulfing him.
For a moment, he felt weightless, as though the world had been stripped away. Then as quickly as he had left the city of Aetherion, the ground reappeared beneath his feet, and the brisk air of the Ironridge mountains filled his lungs.
The high peaks of the Ironridge mountains towered overhead, hidden beneath a gloomy grey sky. The streets of Ironridge were paltry compared to the colorful avenues of Aetherion. Here, the air was heavily contaminated by coal smoke, and the clang of hammers striking metal overwhelmed all else. The ground beneath Caledryn’s boots was uneven, worn by the constant traffic of heavy wagons and the grinding of steel on stone. He already missed the pristine perfection that was Aetherion.
The town was a picture of industry, its buildings squat and utilitarian, built from dark and unbelievably dense stone, much of which was plentiful in this mining town. The workers here wore simple, heavy clothing, their faces smeared with grime from hours spent beneath the earth or hammering iron. As Caledryn walked down the main road, he passed groups of men and women hauling crates of ore, their arms thick as tree trunks from years of heavy labor. The echoes of pickaxes striking rock thrummed through the streets, mingling with the roar of the flames within the local forges.
A few paces ahead, a guild officer stood near a wrought-iron gate, his posture straight and professional, but his demeanor lonely, certainly not excited to be posted in this position. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with short-cropped hair and a heavy fur cloak that kept the wind off, something Caledryn could already appreciate as a gust struck him with surprisingly might and chilled him to the bone. The insignia of the Obsidian Vanguard was stitched into his shoulder, though the edges were worn and faded.
“Caledryn?” The officer’s voice was gruff, but he was clearly eager to speak with someone from the capital. He stepped forward, his boots crunching on the snow-packed ground. “I’ve been told to expect you.”
Caledryn nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The weight of his satchel felt heavier now that he was really going through with this mission. “I’m here to retrieve a mount, as you likely have already heard.”
The officer grunted, looking him up and down and after a moment, he jerked his head toward the stables at the far side of the square. “You’ll find your horse there. It’s not the finest steed, but it’ll get you where you need to go.”
Caledryn’s followed the officer’s gesture. The stables were little more than a crude iron shed, surrounded by barrels of feed and crates. A few horses stomped in their stalls, heavy wafts of cold air bellowing from their snouts. Caledryn made his way toward the stables, his boots crunching the snow beneath him. The sound of hooves scraping against the stone floor was barely audible over the hammering blows of the many blacksmiths.
The officer followed behind, “Not much use for fancy beasts out here,” he said, his tone relaxing. “Ironridge doesn’t attract the kind of clientele that Aetherion does. We don’t have need for stallions in gilded armor. Here, the people work for a living.”
Caledryn glanced back at the officer, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’m not here to impress anyone,” he replied, his voice firm. “I’m here to do my job.”
The officer grunted again, unimpressed. He led Caledryn to the farthest stall, where a sturdy-looking horse stood. It was muscular, with a thick coat of dull brown built to withstand the harsh conditions of Ironridge.
“Good,” Caledryn murmured to himself as he tightened the straps of his gear and swung himself into the saddle. “This’ll do just fine.”
The officer tried to make some small talk. He wasn’t excited to go through these motions, but it was nice to have someone new arrive. “The main road is a few hours out. If you’re heading to Ashvale, you’ll want to keep an eye on the ridgelines. A lot of monster activity lately, almost as if they are fleeing from something. Wild stuff, haven’t seen this sort of thing since…” he broke character for a moment, “Since I joined this game. The monsters are going nuts, seriously, be careful out there” he begged of Caledryn.
Caledryn adjusted his cloak, settling into the saddle. The stress of the mission hitting hard, “Get ahold of yourself. You are a member of The Obsidian Vanguard,” he said with a harsh undertone. “I’m just here to scout, not to fight.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Just don’t underestimate the land out there. It’s unforgiving. The mountains won’t show mercy if you make a wrong turn.”
With a final nod, the officer turned and retreated back into the town, leaving Caledryn alone with his mount. Caledryn took a deep breath, pulling the reins and guiding the horse toward the rough trail that would take him down through the mountains. As he passed the edge of the town, the sounds of the town above faded into the surrounding nature, replaced by chirps of birds and rustling of brush. The further he went, the more isolated he felt. The world beyond Ironridge was full of peril, hell, even Ironridge was full of peril compared to Aetherion.
He glanced back once more at the silhouette of the town, then turned his gaze forward, watching the path wind toward the mountains. The road would get worse from here, he knew. The path to Ashvale was not kind to those who weren’t prepared. He even reflected on his first journey out of Ashvale, which felt like an eternity ago.
The path was narrow, barely wide enough for Caledryn’s horse to navigate, its uneven surface jolting him with every step. The ground was far more uneven than Ironridge, littered with loose rocks and stubborn roots that threatened to dismount him. On either side, the dense forest pressed in, offering little light in this dismal territory. Caledryn thought of the Vescarid threat, its hive looming in the distance. The air lingered with the scent of damp earth and pine, but his mind wandered to the soldiers and miners who, like him, made their way through such harsh landscapes every day. They lived for hard work, just as he must live for this mission.
His horse's hooves clattered against the gravel, pulling him from his thoughts. The path wasn’t going to last forever, it would eventually lead to the main road. He knew little of Ironridge, no more than the fact that it was a slight detour from more civilized regions, a place that was discovered by players who preferred the artisan path. The discovery of the ore-rich region propelled Aetherion into a golden age, for nowhere else would one find so much raw material. Thus they constructed a portal to link the two locations so that carts of iron, coal, even mithril could be hauled to the thriving metropolis.
The path no more than a game trail gradually widened as Caledryn and his horse descended slightly, the trees parting to reveal the broader main road below. The rough, jagged trail he navigated in constant pain as the horse stumbled over holes and dodged thick roots, now gave way to a smoother, more traveled path, the ruts and rocks less frequent. Caledryn was exhausted already and he had barely escaped Ironridge and was left with a great feeling of relief as he entered the main road. It was still far from the streets he had grown accustomed to, but it sure beat the wilderness he came from.
He spurred his horse into a steady trot, his pace quickening as the main road widened further, breaking free from the dense wilderness and pushing him toward Ashvale. Pulling the map from his satchel, his fingers traced the path he needed to follow. Three days, perhaps less, depending on the weather and how the road held up.
His mind turned inward as he plotted the next stages of his journey. He had to arrive safely at Ashvale, he needed to contact Dravok, and then he needed to figure out where the Vescarid were located and at what stage they were. If they were growing, his guild needed to know so that they could put an immediate stop to it.
With a glance behind him and a glance ahead, he notified Dravok of his location and pressed forward. The road was clear, and the distance to Ashvale wasn’t too terribly far. He was confident that he could get there before the anticipated deadline.