Asabasha 24, 350 AOR
“Is that everything, Young Master?” a jubilant voice asked from within a covered wagon sitting right inside the South Gate.
“Yeah, all good out here, Dante,” Cal stated as he gazed up at the late-night sky, and then at his escort to Elda alongside Airetore.
Dante Sol. A stubby man, short in stature, and without an ounce of hair on his head. Since Cal could remember, Dante was essentially Markstead’s top merchant as he visited the village once a month, buying and selling highly valuable items that helped keep the town’s economy afloat to certain degrees. His round blue eyes always shone with unbridled joy, something that just seemed natural for the merchant.
“Good. Good,” he tittered before his head popped out the back of the wagon. “If that’s all, Young Master, it’s about time we head out! Make sure to say your goodbyes!”
There was also Dante’s odd tendency to refer to Cal as Young Master. He never explained why, and Cal never bothered to ask the stubborn merchant to stop, so it eventually stuck.
Cal nodded and turned toward his family. Dirah and Bea met him first.
The latter’s arms wound around his neck almost immediately as she held her face close to his with an expression that conveyed how upset she was. “Leaving so suddenly like this, Cal Gray—I should kill you.”
“You won’t though,” Cal teased.
“Of course not,” she huffed before falling silent, her icy blues gazing deeply into his before she mumbled, “I’m going to miss you… a lot.”
Cal tightened his hold on her. “I’ll miss you too.”
“Can you accept letters?” she asked. At Cal’s nod, her hold on him tightened. “Then I’ll write to you.”
“I’ll look out for them.”
“You better,” she muttered. The look in her eyes lingered, shaking as her face reddened and she looked to pull away; however, she didn’t. Instead, she dropped her voice lower and pulled back in so that her lips were right next to his ear. “I love you, Cal.”
“I love you too, Bea,” Cal said before pulling back and looking at the woman in his arms.
Her mouth fell open as if she were about to say something; however, it fell into a tight-lip smile as she released Cal and patted his chest. “Take care… okay?”
“You too. Help the old man keep this place running.”
She rolled her eyes and backed away. “Of course. It’s not like I haven’t done it my entire life.”
Cal matched her action as Dirah stepped up, double-taking a passing Bea before muttering under his breath. He stuck out his hand and Cal took it.
They shook hands, but Cal was swiftly pulled into a lopsided hug. Incapable of escaping Dirah’s enormous arms, Cal allowed the air to be stolen from his lungs as Dirah nearly lifted him off the ground until he pulled back and looked down at his godson. “Good luck, son. Don’t get caught up in the big city and forget why you’re there, to begin with,” he laughed and slapped Cal’s back before leaning toward Cal and whispering. “Be careful around those Eldan nobles. Bastards are only trouble, you hear?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I understand, old man.”
His laugh turned to a smile as he fell silent for a moment, his one eye trained on Cal. “I’m proud of ya, son.”
Cal’s mind stumbled at the simple, but heart-warming statement. Nonetheless, he nodded at Dirah and stuck out his hand once again. They shook, which is when Cal took the chance to lower his voice as well. “Can you watch over the girls for me, Dirah?”
He paused before grinning. “Of course. As long as I live, no harm will befall our family.”
Cal accepted the answer and finally turned to his girls.
Eri seemed the most devastated. Lucie had held her back as he said his goodbyes to the Melds, but the second he turned to them and Lucie released their sibling, Eri rushed toward him, tears pouring out of her eyes as she nearly tripped. Cal caught her and embraced her, ensuring his little sister that he’d be back as soon as possible. Between reassurances, he rubbed her back.
“Things are going to be difficult, but you’re strong, yeah? ”
Through her tears and shaking voice, she shook her head. “N-No! I-I’m not! I want you here, Caly!”
The urge to grab his belongings and return home was strong, but he kept his heart and mind solid as he did his best to comfort Eri. There wasn’t much he could do, resulting in him just parting her dark brown hair and kissing her forehead. “I love you, Eri.”
Eri’s hold tightened as she buried her face into his neck. “I-I love—love you t-too, C-Caly!”
He found it difficult to let go of her, more so because she was hugging him that tightly, but Lisa eventually coaxed Eri off of him in the form of practically tearing her off. Lucie took the chance to approach Cal and hug him. Once encircled by Lucie, Cal’s mind felt like he was floating atop a calm ocean. His worries faded and he simply accepted the calm breeze that was her voice.
“I believe in you.”
He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. They were full of conviction as if to tell Cal that she trusted him wholeheartedly and only wished for his success. Considering her tendency to overtly look out for him, Cal found comfort in her reassurance. It strengthened his will as he backed off.
“I love you, Luce.”
“I love you, Cal.”
They shared one last hug before Lisa took Lucie’s spot. Not much was said between them until Lisa drew away and grabbed both of Cal’s hands. “I never expected you to be the first to leave home.”
“Well, Lucie mentioned going to Sherma ages ago. You might be alone with Eri soon, though she may get lost on her adventures” Cal said before frowning. “You’re going to be okay, right?”
Lisa laughed. “Of course. Regardless of who goes where, we’re still family.” She paused then, squeezing Cal’s hands and softening her voice. “You had said that you don’t want to feel any pain, sweetie, but I want you to know that it’s inevitable. You’re going to hurt. To lessen it is to rid yourself of a piece of your humanity. Welcome the pain, even if it’s bit by bit. I promise you that the change that comes will be well worth it. You’re stubborn like your father, so I only ask you to try. Can you do that for me?”
Cal looked down at his Mother. He recollected the last few days and how much had changed, how much had occurred: the arrival of Airetore, the two raids, his father and the mystery behind his death, and then the offer to Aldera. It occurred so quickly, to the point that Cal was still wrapping his mind around it all. Was it even real? Pinching himself said yes, but everything else said no.
Mrs. Lee and Pierce had died, both of whom were daily occurrences in Cal’s life, people he had gotten used to and lived among. They felt like enforcers of his beliefs, yet… there was hesitation to do so. He just couldn’t be certain as to why.
A corner of Cal’s mouth frowned. “I can’t make any promises, Mother.”
Lisa smiled sadly at her son before whispering, “I understand. Just… don’t run away. You stand strong for everything else. Don’t be afraid to fight for yourself sometimes, okay?”
Nodding his head, Cal embraced his mother one more time and pulled away. “I love you, Mother.”
Lisa wiped at the corner of her eye. “I love you too, sweetie.”
Cal’s gaze stayed on his mother before he glanced over her shoulder at Dirah, his hands on Bea’s shoulders as the town’s caretaker held Lucie’s hand, both with tears in their eyes. Lucie’s other hand held Eri’s as the younger sibling openly bawled.
Instinct alone caused Cal to step forward, but a voice shouted out. “We can only wait so long, brat!”
Cal flinched, clenching his eyes shut before a feather-like touch brushed the side of his face. Once his eyes opened, he was met with Lisa’s tear-stained face, her smile unrelenting. “Go and be great, Cal Gray.”
Determination strengthening, Cal allowed the smallest smiles to show for the first time in ages. “Of course, Mother.”
With that, Cal turned around and approached the wagon, where Airetore hung off the back, his hand outstretched. “You ready?”
Cal grabbed Airetore’s forearm as the latter did the same and pulled Cal up.
“No idea,” he muttered as he looked at the professor.
The wagon began to move, leading both men to look back at Markstead and the Gray-Meld family as they waved at Cal and wiped at their teary eyes—or eye.
“It won’t be easy,” said the professor.
Cal released a low scoff. “Nothing ever is.”
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The wagon’s benches were rather cramped, Cal quickly noticed as their journey began. To the left was his chest of books, clothes, and a gift Lisa had gifted him—as she would miss his birthday in a few weeks. On his opposite flank, other goods, ranging from fruits and vegetables to strange artifacts and weapons and armor also littered the wagon. Sitting straight as a rod would surely become a pain in the ass, but thankfully, their journey would take them to the trading town of Zarg in a few days, meaning most of the items in the wagon would be sold off, freeing up space for Cal to spread his legs. Unlike him, however, Airetore lay horizontal on what appeared to be thin air, but on further inspection, was actually Wind magic.
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“Crafty fucker,” Cal mumbled as he shuffled in his seat.
The annoyance Cal felt was replaced by barely-there complacency once Dante’s head poked through the wagon’s front flaps. “It’s a joy to finally have you travel with me, Young Master! It’s been something I’ve always wanted to do since your father passed, but Lady Lisa never allowed it. What a shame!”
“Thanks, Dante… That means a lot,” Cal awkwardly replied before pausing and looking around the wagon once again. “How’s the trading company coming along?”
“It’s been a year since I told you about that,” the merchant laughed. “How do you remember such things?” At Cal’s shrug, Dante continued without blinking. “Well funds were lower back then, but once I sell this wagon of its contents in Zarg and Elda, I’ll have enough money to buy the property and start construction! I’m very excited!” he squawked, an inextinguishable fire in his eyes.
“I, uh… see that,” Cal deadpanned. “Congrats, Dante. You deserve it more than anyone.”
“You have my thanks, Young Master!” he smiled before it broadened. “Now, how about we enjoy this wondrous journey together?”
And that they did.
After two days of traversing the hilly plains of Eastern Wyze, with only a few violent altercations from the local wildlife, the party of three reached the Scarlett Sanctuary, a deep cirque with towering cliffs surrounding the mystical, scarlet-hued vegetation beneath. The short, wide trees were much darker—almost maroon—but the knee-high grass of the forest floor and the vivid, eight-pronged leaves, akin to flowers, hanging from the tendril branches of the Harmen Trees were a vibrant scarlet shade.
It lived up to its name, though not the sanctuary part, for immediately upon entering, a group of bandits closed in on the eccentric bunch of travelers. Upon mentioning his name, however, the bandits begrudgingly fled.
Following the brief dispute, the journey through the sanctuary was rather peaceful, allowing Cal a chance to truly absorb the world outside the one he was so used to.
From the hanging Harmens, a tunnel of sorts was formed around the dirt road they traversed. A resounding smell like that of sugar bread and a hint of copper—oddly enough—lingered beneath the trees, brought on by green-dotted flowers that hung off the Harmens as well. Dante had called them Scarlett’s Tears, and by using magic, the flowers were capable of having the unique spore within it extracted, which is then turned into perfume and sold to higher-class noblewomen.
The tidbit of information resulted in a two-hour discussion of magic between Dante and Airetore, only adding to Cal’s curiosity about the Magic Arts and just how vast they were. The conversation then shifted to Airetore and Dante’s shared experiences in travel. Both men had traveled through the five empires of Volmier, but Airetore had supposedly gone deeper into the isolated Alexandria and Delfairre Empires as the terrain and environment were too much for Dante and his wagon. Additionally, they’d gone to Asasei multiple times, though with a war that had ended just before Wyze’s Civil War, Dante opted to stay away for the time being, especially as another skirmish had broken out just a couple of years prior.
For much of that time, with the two men talking endlessly as the sister suns began their descent behind the sanctuary’s walls, Cal joined Dante on the front bench, simply taking in the setting as he contemplated.
His entire life had been surrounded by his family and Markstead. Aside from the occasional visit to Red Cove or the homesteads spread throughout the region, Cal had never really considered the world outside of the one he knew. Unlike Eri, always adventurous and wanting to discover new things—perhaps a trait she learned from their father—Cal was content with himself. He didn’t need the change in his life. But…something in the back of his mind shouted otherwise.
He pushed it down, more so as the trio—and horse—reached the northernmost portion of the bowl, where the bustling trading town of Zarg awaited at the end of their third day.
To enter, one would have to pass through a wide gap between the cliffs. After just ten or so yards, it opened up into a separate, cliff-rounded hollow, where homes and shops soared up the cliffs and chiseled themselves into the slate of the Arclydes. With the surrounding area’s natural material making up the buildings—deep gray stone and scarlet wood—the blend from forest to city was practically seamless. More so when night fell and hundreds of lanterns lit up the cylindrical city whilst the people drank and partied to their heart’s content. Music constantly bounced off the town’s walls as hearty laughter and cheers filled the warm night.
The city didn’t sleep, but luckily for Cal and his abhorrence for boisterous settings, their stay only lasted for one night, allowing Dante to buy and sell whatever he needed the evening of their arrival and the morning after. Unfortunately, that was clearly second in Dante’s mind as the merchant coerced Cal into joining him and Airetore in one of the town’s few taverns.
Maybe it was easy to tell, but Dante was a hard man to turn down. He was simply too jolly.
Cal joined, regardless, but after watching a fight between patrons, Airetore instigating many more, and then Airetore and Dante drinking and singing with said brawlers, Cal called it a night, though he did write in his journal, something he had never done in his life before. He couldn’t understand why—perhaps it was the journey and next chapter of his life—but he wanted to write down everything that happened. He began on the first night, and it was a habit that stuck with each night that passed.
When the next morning came, and Dante had finished his business, the journey continued. This time, they were getting into the bulk of the mountains. Many mountains had surrounded the sanctuary—adding to its already daunting height—but the terrain and paths grew much more tedious as the number of valleys and peaks increased tenfold.
Luckily, getting lost was difficult. That was entirely because most of the path surrounded the beautiful Lake Feljard, a crystal-clear lake that sunk a couple thousand feet below the path, and was shrouded by trees and rock beds. Feljard’s reflection of the halo of cloud-reaching mountains and blue sky captured Cal, causing his mouth to fall slightly agape until Dante approached, threw an arm around Cal’s shoulder, and pulled him along a couple of minutes later.
“Beautiful, yes?” Dante had said with a grin.
Cal could only nod, the urge to stand there forever hard to ignore.
Unfortunately, they had places to be. So the quartet—horse included—continued forth, traversing through the mountains, valleys, and ridges that orbited Lake Feljard. Yet, despite seeing it dozens of times over multiple days, Cal simply couldn’t find it any less enchanting than the first time.
His enchantment would only heighten though as, along the last stretch of the mountains, where the bottom of the basin met with Lake Feljard, the path took the party through a narrow cave full of glistening jewels, dubbed Momi Cave after the Goddess of Gems. A river brought on from Lake Feljard flowed through the cave all the way to the mouth of the cavern, where it turned into a waterfall that descended nearly three thousand feet into King’s River below.
From the bird’s eye view, hundreds of miles scoured across the picturesque setting. The vestiges of the Scarlett Sanctuary were barely visible to the left as the Arclydes hid them from prying eyes. Those mended into the dark green canopies of the Belle Forest further south—Elven Territory, in other words. Straight ahead, at the bottom of the mountain range, the yellow-leaved trees of the Dulsee Forest ran their course until meeting the towering spruces of the Fulso Woods. One couldn’t simply ignore the Gulf of Adreus, however, as the vast ocean stretched far and wide to the right, thousands of feet below as the sea cliffs of Eastern Wyze wrapped around to—what was essentially—Central Wyze.
“They say that Lady Iris, Lord Daichi, and Lady Umiko created the continents of Lumiriahn millenniums ago… I believe those gods did a splendid job,” said Dante as they looked across Wyze and its beauty.
Whether they existed or not, Cal couldn’t have agreed more.
From that point on, they made haste down the mountain and through the Dulsee Forest. As it was cooler beneath the yellow-leaved ceiling, the wagon’s canopy was opened, allowing a steady breeze to wash over the quartet while traveling along King’s River. The night after the first day in the woods, the party was attacked by another group of bandits, but they merely laughed at Cal’s supposed status.
They didn’t know him. The world outside Eastern Wyze didn’t know him.
The thought was odd, but not unwelcomed. He enjoyed it, rather.
Either way, Cal made quick work of the five men, hardly breaking a sweat.
If there was one similarity between the bandits in Eastern and Central Wyze, it was that they were all very unimpressive.
The journey continued onward, and as the terrain grew less rugged, Cal gave himself some time to train every night.
According to Airetore, Aldera was a co-ed academy that focused on a mix of Magic Arts and Combat Arts, teaching its students how to excel in advanced spellcasting, alchemy, Familiars, and everything in between, but also weapon mastery, warfare tactics, hand-to-hand combat, and much more.
Cal was confident in the latter, but he was never one to be content. His fight with Jay taught him a lot, but most importantly, it taught him that he was weak. So he trained like always, doing whatever he could to ensure that he was even slightly better than he was the previous day. Airetore would sometimes join, giving Cal pointers—which he listened to sparingly—and oftentimes just bullying Cal.
“You should listen to your mentor more,” the professor said one night as he pulled Cal to his feet.
“One, you’re not my mentor; two, how can I listen to anything when you’re simply throwing me around?” Cal groused.
“Ah. Ah. Ah,” Airetore sang, wagging his finger like Cal was a disobedient mutt. “Through Aldera’s scholarship—meaning on paper—you are my pupil. So let’s go ahead and stick with that, yeah?” His lips were pressed into a firm grin. “Aside from that, it’s only through defeat that you’ll learn. You’re well aware of that philosophy, yes?”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Your advice is abysmal, mentor.”
Airetore stopped helping Cal after that night, always sulking and eyes always darting away like a child when the latter looked toward the former. That didn’t mean much though as the following day was the last day of the journey.
Then they would be at Elda—at Aldera Academy.
By the time the last leg of the journey had come, Airetore had worn himself out with his childish antics, Dante had told his most riveting stories, and Cal was simply exhausted by it all.
He missed his family, but at that point, he missed his bed more. The desire to sleep on a feathered bed was deep, so much so that Cal would probably eliminate the professor if it meant sleeping on one.
Cal brushed the thought away and settled in for the last night, surrounded by the campfire as Dante cleaned up that night’s dishes and Airetore read through what seemed to be his endless supply of books. The moment was silently amiable, but after settling down and drinking some special beverages, the merchant grew somber, and soon, an old adventurer’s tale filled the night air beneath the Five Sibling Moons.
It was a slow, solemn ballad, one of loss and regret that traced the life of the God of Shadows, Leonidas, a wolf god who fought with Reiza—the Goddess of Storms and a dragon the color of snow. They had brought carnage over Wyze centuries ago, resulting in the deaths of thousands. With the wolf’s midnight black fur and eyes of gold, he was perceived as a demon, but with the battle’s conclusion, the god only felt guilt.
Remorseful and seeking retribution, Leonidas began a new life, one devoted to helping the world he destroyed. He lived among the elves, traveled alongside adventurers, and worked alongside the sailors and fishermen of Sherma.
Over time, Leonidas’ newfound connection to humanity outlived his past transgressions. The shadows he once shrouded Wyze in slowly faded as the light of the future shone brighter and brighter with each attempt at redemption. However, centuries after, those very shadows found their bearer and devoured him alongside a group of adventurers. They vanished without a trace.
Many say it was the world and its scars that damned the god, swallowing him whole and forcing him to amend his past through eternal suffering. Yet, in the tale, Leonidas’ role as Wyze’s protector is mourned as a hero’s loss, not as a god’s divine punishment.
Once Dante’s tale concluded, silence fell over the campsite before the merchant eventually put the fire out and bid his companions a good night.
Cal was thankful for that. The Ballad of Leonidas was just a tinge too depressing for him as he lay on his bedroll and dug into the story, unable to help but think of the story of how Leonidas had changed after bringing such pain to Wyze.
It made him think… was such change really possible?
Could one truly change and be recognized for it, or was it only because Leonidas was a god that it was possible and that he was recognized for it? If Cal were to change, who would care—who would recognize that change?
No one, and that made it feel entirely pointless.
What is change if nobody recognizes it—if nobody embraces it?
“… entirely annoying,” Cal muttered as he rolled on his side and ignored the inquisitive eyes bearing down on his back.
Cal let his previous thoughts carry him into a light slumber, and less than twelve hours later, he, Airetore, and Dante—and the horse—arrived before the Eldan Kingdom.