The first thought in his mind was that they had been killed by the vampire. Then again, the diary didn’t mention what the ruins were called. From Soren’s accounts, more than one problem plagued the city, and this could in fact be an evil spirit. Regardless, it was anything beyond his level if it had claimed the old exorcist’s life.
He read through some of the previous entries, and when he found nothing of note, Daniel decided to start from the beginning. It was an extremely tough read. Although the man had claimed to have written two other diaries, he still wasn’t good at writing. He decided he would read a bit every day before going to bed - it would be sure to put him to sleep faster than any pill or magic. There was bound to be something useful in there if he could only persevere.
It was the middle of the night when he turned to head to sleep, only to realise he would rather die than sleep on whatever that monstrosity of a bed was. He groaned in exhaustion, and then spent the rest of the night trying to find someone who would sell him a proper bed. Some of the locals directed him to a nearby night market, and, leveraging his status as a holy man of Morvina, he purchased a featherbed with a soft pillow and smooth bedsheets.
In total, it set him back thirty crowns, and he dreaded what it would’ve cost regularly. Only those that had never experienced a comfortable bed would berate him for the purchase, even if it was a luxury. Daniel had spent the last four years in a hospital bed - he deserved something for himself. When he finally laid down, he passed out instantly.
---------
“You stink more than a plague slime-infested sewer. Gods, what do they make you do in the church? Go take a bath,” Finnean said, sipping his favourite crysmalean tea, wrinkling his nose at him. This time, Daniel could only stare, bitter about how poor he was.
“I’ve had two very busy days. Feels like it’s been weeks with how much has been happening,” he said, sipping the cheapest tea on the menu. It tasted like strawberries.
“Must be tough having to do everything without any maids. Though, at this point, I’ve come to doubt my theory. They must do things differently in whatever strange country you hail from.”
Daniel laughed, unwilling to speak more.
“I’ve got some good news for you. Look at what I’ve bought,” he reached into a small backpack he had set down, pulling out two sets of clothes.
“This is your combat outfit, or perhaps, a sneaking outfit. I made it dark and brooding and mysterious,” Finnean said, revealing a predominantly black robe. A wide grin was plastered on his face.
It looked to be made of velvet and silk, a subtle sheen over it that dampened light. Just barely, he could see runes running down the side of it, intricate as they could be.
“Look at this hood. I made it to be generous and to cast a shadow over your face when you wear it, hidden just enough to leave your pale complexion visible. It will give you that aura of enigma, which will scare anyone that even dares to look at you.” He delicately stroked the hood of the robe, pride worn on his face.
“And look at these,” he said, extending Daniel’s hand to run side by side with the sleeves. “They’re long enough to cover your arms during casting, or perhaps conceal a hidden dagger. But, the goal isn’t to hide anything. Instead, the cuffs here are coloured bone white to draw attention to what you might or might not be carrying. It’s sure to create a sense of unease and dread.”
Finnean continued to patiently describe every detail of the robe with the passion of someone who had found his life’s calling. Daniel’s initial thoughts were that he would look too much like Death, but the more he listened, the more he began to appreciate it. Still, it would be tough to explain to anyone that saw him in it.
The first set of clothes was simple, but the second was certainly not. A rich blue doublet with a sturdy undershirt was paired with dark violet breeches, and fine leather boots stood upon a patterned grey cloak. An ornate belt was set to the side along with knee-high socks and braies, the medieval equivalent of boxers.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Daniel scratched his head. Imagining the scene of going from his current clothes to something like that made him sit still in shock. No doubt, he would look like a pompous asshole in those. Was this Finnean’s way of cruel revenge?
“A classic noble’s garb, made in the fashion of the capital. There’s not a lot of nobles here, so you’ll stand out even more,” he commented, his eyes gleaming. “I’ll give you these for now. Bring me your clothes tomorrow after you wash yourself.”
Great. Simply wonderful. That was what he got for making a trade mere hours into coming to this world. Still, Finnean’s handiwork would’ve cost him hundreds of crowns, so he couldn’t complain too much.
“So, onto another matter - Velkir. No one knows him by name, but I have received accounts of different hunting parties encountering him. I managed to get three different versions, though none offer too much information,” Finnean said, confidently leaning back.
“As you said, it’s a much larger and tougher version of a silvermoon wolf. Likely possesses upgraded abilities of their kind.”
“Which are?” Daniel interjected.
“A howl that confuses the mind and magic that conjures sharp moonlight discs. They’re also best known for their great speed and defence. You can expect Velkir to be practically a blur.”
Daniel took a sharp intake of breath, followed by a nervous laugh. There was no chance his soul scythe was hitting the monster as it was.
“Moving on. He has four confirmed abilities, which are incredibly unusual. The first is present in all of the fights - Velkir can turn to mist, rendering most attacks ineffective. Whenever it got cornered by the hunters, it would use this to rapidly escape, making it impossible to trace.” Finnean tapped his fingers against the table, conjuring a ball of mist on top of his palm for demonstration.
“Don’t worry about him escaping. I can track him no matter where he goes,” Daniel said.
Finnean gave him a long, appraising look, though said nothing about the topic.
“Great. It still means that regular weapons won’t do anything. Possibly only an artefact could slay him in mist form,” he quipped back.
“Besides that, he has an ability to shoot a beam of fire from his mouth - something you should be very familiar with. He’s also been seen turning the ground into ice and conjuring topaz barriers mid-air. From this, we can also assume it has Emerald Serpent’s ability to control vines.”
Daniel nodded, noting it down in his head. The task sounded harder and harder by the second, and he was only level five. It was beyond time to level up.
“All of that in conjunction with possibly more abilities we don’t know. Frankly, it’s a wonder that the guild hasn’t sent even stronger hunting parties considering that three attempts have already failed.” He glanced meaningfully at Daniel. “So, do you have a plan?”
“I managed to secure a few skilled people from the church’s side, though, now that I’ve heard about what it can do, it definitely won’t be enough.” Daniel held his head in his hands, various plans swirling in his head.
“And how do you plan to get hunting licences for all of them? Croelius’ side won’t even speak to them, and the mages will charge you an arm and a leg.”
“Right. What if we just... leave in the middle of the night. As long as we don’t bring back any monster corpses, who will know where we went?” Daniel’s eyes glimmered with mischief.
“Risky, but it could work. The guards by the gate will certainly report the matter. We could leave through the western gate and circle to the forest.”
A long pause hung in the air as the two of them thought.
“Could you talk to some of the mages in the guild and see if they’re interested?” Daniel said, throwing out an idea.
“I could, but the problem is, there’s no incentive. There’s no way they would agree to sneak out, and if we didn’t bring back the corpses, what’s even the point of them participating?”
“What this entire operation lacks is money,” Finnean said, pointing at Daniel. “Money to either buy licences or pay mercenaries for the job. Money to buy potions to calm the mind, to not get confused by the howls. Money for scrolls to prepare for unexpected situations. What you need, Daniel, is funding from someone. Without that, the plan can’t progress, and I won’t risk my life without knowing every detail.”
Finnean’s words were like lightning from a clear, blue sky. He had barely gotten enough money for his living expenses, and now he had to fund an entire expedition, which would cost him hundreds if not thousands of crowns. Without someone to back him, the plan was bound to be doomed for failure.