Asabasha 40, 350 AOR

Even when miles away, the colossal stone walls of Elda were prevalent, looming over the vestiges of the Fulso Woods, an indomitable existence within the rounded peninsula along the western edge of the Gulf of Adreus.

Towering over twenty stories high, the walls, combined with vigilant guards stationed between battlements, magnified the city’s daunting presence. Elda’s defenses, fortified by the abundance of Eldan Knights—their silver and crimson-colored armor proving such—intensified the imposing aura of the aged, yet still impenetrable walls.

A much smaller wall—the Sub Wall—lay a distance in front of the Main Wall. Towers as tall as Cal’s home back in Markstead adorned the Sub Wall’s face, each one housing multiple soldiers who monitored the land before them. On the ground, a handful of soldiers thoroughly inspected each individual and their belongings, as well as their possessions, especially those who entered the city with wagons and other carriages.

After being cleared through the Main Wall, travelers and hopeful citizens-to-be were then ushered to the Main Wall, where they were—once again—inspected by another squadron of soldiers while more than a dozen knights sat within another bunch of towers built into the Main Wall.

The quartet was soon cleared through both, leading them into the kingdom’s stout walls and the tunnel connecting both sides. However, before they could finally enter Elda, each man was asked to provide identification and their reason for entering the city.

“Merchant,” Dante declared, showing the two stationed guards his Merchant Pass, its gold color signifying that he was allowed to traverse over all borders of Lyzle.

“Student,” Cal said as he handed the soldier a letter Airetore had given him beforehand, which proved his acceptance into Aldera.

“A professor’s recommendation? Congrats, kid!” the soldier grinned, handing Cal back his letter after reading its contents.

Nodding thanks to the guard, Cal stepped away as the other guard approached Airetore. The professor drew a scroll from his black coat, silently handing it over to the woman. Airetore’s letter possessed the same purple seal that Cal had found on the letter his father held.

But wasn’t it something only found in Aldera… unless it was just a general seal used by the staff of the academy… Did that then make any professor—or even student—a lead to their investigation?

Cal sighed, realizing that things were about to become very cumbersome.

With each word the knight read, the more her eyes widened, her form growing rigid. She snapped the scroll shut, returned the scroll, and saluted as she gave the party a formal welcome behind incessant stammering. Cal wouldn’t get a chance to question Airetore about the knight’s odd behavior as the three were ushered into the city by the traffic behind them.

Finally passing the kingdom’s arduous defenses and migration process, Cal promptly froze.

There were many words Cal could use to describe Elda, but if he was asked to choose just one, overwhelming would be the one that comes to mind.

Immediately upon entering the city, his senses began to run a hundred miles a minute. Aside from the view of a large main road, a canal running down its center—crystal clear water flowing through it—and thousands of people scrambling between hundreds of soaring shops and homes, his nose picked up a multitude of aromas. The smell of blooming flowers from the florists, savory meat from the butchers, burning metal from the blacksmiths, and sweet desserts from the bakers infiltrated Cal’s nostrils, begging him to enter the closest store and buy all the food he could with the fifteen gold his mother had given him before he left. However, Cal’s hopes would die as Airetore pushed him along, seemingly amused by Cal’s rare showing of wonderment.

If the smirk he wore said anything, at least.

Nonetheless, as Cal walked alongside the professor on the right side of the road, he couldn’t help but admire all he could.

The buildings were well over three stories tall—more than likely with homes making up the second and third levels—and were made with beautifully crafted wood, and meticulously designed stone and brick. In the middle of the road, where the canal sat, bridges connected the two sides of the road while flowers and vines decorated the stone brick, preserving a natural ambiance in the bustling city.

Vendors shouted from stalls while finely dressed women sold items on top of items to passing people. The buildings seemed to spread on forever without an end in sight. The magnitude of the city and its people was unbelievable, proven as Cal found himself bumping into a person every dozen feet. Despite the numerous people he bumped into and apologized to, they were never bothered by it.

They were used to the bustling crowds that came with living in Elda, Cal guessed.

Though, on further observation, all those being bumped into still wore smiles, a pleasant air surrounding them. Cal felt as if he would’ve been threatened by Elda’s people and the fact that he and they lived in such different worlds; instead, he felt like he was just another person in the crowd—like he was meant to be in Elda.

It was truly an entirely new environment.

The overwhelming senses he felt was only heightened as the carriage rolled into a humming plaza nearly the same size as two Marksteads combined. Stalls and merchants set up shop along a number of garden beds surrounding a beautiful fountain, but it was the four gargantuan statues facing the fountain in each of the plaza’s corners that truly stole Cal’s attention.

One looked to be a witch—at least from the lopsided cone hat and clearly feminine features—while another was an elf, proven by the pointed ears and sharper characteristics of the man who wielded a bow. Conversely, there was a large man carrying a staff.

A mage?

For someone of his build, it was rather odd—he’d be better off swinging an axe like Dirah—but Cal disregarded his trivial thinking and turned to the fourth. The display was of a woman with long hair and a flowing robe, accompanied by a sheathed sword at her hip and an expression calm and relaxed like morning dewdrops. Perhaps a warrior of Asasei, the country south of Wyze?

Drawn from his observations once Dante brought the wagon to a stop, Cal faced the merchant as he regarded him and Airetore with glum, but optimistic eyes.

“Well, gentlemen, it’s been one heck of a journey! I’ve enjoyed the past two weeks with you two, and I hate to part ways, but business awaits! So, with our departure, I’d like to give you both something before we leave one another!”

Dante approached the back of the carriage before shuffling around for a few seconds. Eventually, he returned to the both of us, attention on Airetore first. “For you, Professor, a book on all gathered information of the Divine Beings! I know you like to read, and though these books are hard to come across, I happened upon two, so you can have one!”

He was rather smug about the last part before turning to Cal. “And for the Young Master—” he pulled a sliver necklace with a circular pendant hanging off it from his back pocket, “—this is an enchanted necklace that gives you a boost to your stamina. But once you pump some mana into it, whatever you’re thinking of at that moment will also be displayed in a small little picture!”

He proved as such once he closed his eyes, his face relaxed and concentrated. Sure enough, moments later, Cal found himself looking at—well, himself. In the form of thousands of tiny little orbs, reflecting off the opaque surface, Cal’s face looked back at him. Though it was an impressive and surely high-valued gift, Cal also felt a bit of discomfort at seeing himself in such a manner. Regardless…

“Thank you, Dante,” Cal said as he accepted the gift and placed it around his neck. “Sorry that I didn’t get you anything.”

The merchant merely smiled and waved Cal off. “No worries, Young Master. The shop will be open in the spring, so just be sure to visit me then!”

“I’ll be certain to,” Cal said before the two shook hands.

Airetore and Dante then said their own short farewells. After that, Cal and Airetore watched Dante and his wagon—and horse—disappear into the crowd. The second he did, Airetore wasted not even a second to hand Cal the very slim book he was gifted.

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“I’ve already read this.”

Cal glanced at Airetore through the corner of his eye before nabbing the book. “Of course you have.”

He humphed, then turned to face Cal, his countenance as placid as ever.

“Thanks again for tagging along.”

“You basically begged me,” Cal muttered under his breath.

Not missing a step, Airetore continued. “Listen, brat. Things will only become harder from here on out. Aside from our investigation, you need to be a good student. Expulsion due to incompetence is common here, and as the investigation is going to be moving slowly for the first few months, you need to focus on school and not killing anyone, understood?”

“Why would I kill anyone?”

“Because you’re an unhinged brat,” he quickly responded, pointing a finger in Cal’s face. “Also, this kingdom is full of some colorful personalities, the kind that don’t mesh well with the stubborn psychopaths like you.” Cal opened his mouth to retort, but Airetore pinched his lips closed. “Aldera does not permit killing, so don’t do it, okay?”

Cal rolled his eyes and nodded, so Airetore released him and sighed. “Look… new environment, new faces, new stakes—it’s a lot, but you can handle it. I’m going to do my best to find some leads, but in the meantime, just behave. Act like that bombshell of a sister you have is looking over your shoulder every second, yeah?”

Cal slapped Airetore, who—without missing a beat—pulled a ring from out of virtually nowhere. “You’ll need this by the way.”

Cal grabbed the silver ring from Airetore. It was a simple one with a crimson gem atop the head of the band and the Old Language chiseled into its shank. Seeing as he couldn’t read the inscription and had no use for the ring, Cal stuffed it into his back pocket.

When Cal asked what use it did have, Airetore simply said, “You’ll find out soon enough, but I have places to be. See you soon,” before promptly fading into the crowd.

Brows furrowed, Cal sighed and looked around as he realized that he was truly alone at that moment. Not wanting to get caught up in the throng once more, Cal began to move towards the closest building with the most delectable of smells, recalling how breakfast had been skipped and how his stomach made certain that Cal was aware.

“Food it is.”

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Behind the statue of the witch, sat on the corner of the plaza between two streets, Cal wasted no time entering the relaxing tavern. A large stone fire pit lay in the middle of the room as a boar was being roasted above the flames. Just behind the fire pit was the bar, where a muscular man tended to the patrons. Several prettily bedecked women worked the dozens of tables scattered across the first and second floors, as well as the many booths sitting along the dimmer edges of the lower floor.

Cal eventually reached the almost full bar and sat at the corner next to two young men noisily talking about the current happenings of Elda. After ordering himself a small plate of cooked boar and mixed vegetables, Cal killed some time by listening to the men, something Dirah always advised him to do in unfamiliar places. However, the conversation wouldn’t be of much use as it moved away from local politics almost immediately.

“You plan on gettin’ married to that girl of yours, or what?” one of the men jeered at his assumed friend.

“Huh? Probably. Since things have smoothed out since the war, I’d say there’s no better time than now, ya know?” his friend bashfully responded as Cal’s food arrived in the blink of an eye.

“I get ya! Dad’s shop has been boomin’ recently with all the money everyone’s makin’! Elda’s definitely thrivin’ right now!” the first man hollered.

“Cheers to that!” the second drunkenly yelled out.

Cal had just taken his first bite when the two slammed their mugs together; however, as Cal was about to take his second bite, a disgruntled shout tore through the tavern and its cordial air. Now, it was utterly silent, a taut air befalling the room in the form of a tall young man around Cal’s age. He had curly hair—its color a sandy blonde—aquamarine eyes, and light freckles beneath his glowering pools, surely from the beer that now decorated his expensive royal-blue suit.

The man to be married—Unmarried Man—paled, his eyes shooting open as any sense of drunkenness instantly evaporated, replaced by utter fear. He dropped to the ground, his brow placed against the wooden floor. “Lord Latiss! I did not see you! I truly apologize!”

It was safe to say that the incident’s victim was Latiss, and if there was any other assumption to be made, it was that Latiss was not fond of Unmarried Man’s apology. His face was twisted in revulsion—like he was looking at a bug that had landed on his shoulder.

“You damn mutt, acting so reckless! Who do you think you are to drench me—with such rubbish, no less!?”

At this point, all backs had turned. The occasional glance of fear and frightened grimace would look timidly over the shoulders of the tavern’s customers, but no one dared intervene.

Whoever Latiss was, he was not one to be bothered.

Flanking Latiss was two other young men. Cal would later learn their names: Jameson Jrue and William Dawes.

Jrue was the tallest, but from the way his shaggy brown hair nearly covered his dark brown eyes, and his ramrod posture, Cal could tell that he was probably the calmest. Conversely, Dawes appeared to be the most aggressive looking, aside from Latiss, that is. His hair was a dark gray, and his eyes were a deep green like that of a grassy field on a rainy day. He was the shortest… In fact, Dawes was well past short, to the point that…

“Foot-Tall?” Cal mumbled.

He’d only heard Dirah talk about them in passing, but there was supposedly a race of people that was brought on by the pairing of a female human and a male dwarf. They were referred to as humans then, but the giants who once roamed the lands began to call them “Foot-Talls” as they appeared—well, a foot tall. To those of average height, however, Foot-Talls ranged from about four to five and a half feet tall. They also usually possessed thin noses, larger-than-average ears, and feisty personalities.

That said… Dawes could just be barely five feet tall.

Assuming the former, Cal watched as the three younger men surrounded Unmarried Man. Latiss scowled. “Do you have any idea how much this suit cost? Be honored that I’m saving your breath! It’s more than what you make in three years, you damn mud-eater!”

Unmarried Man pressed his head further onto the wooden floor. “I-I’m sorry, Lord Latiss! I-I promise I’ll pay for a new suit!”

“With what money?” Latiss sneered, his eyes full of contemptuousness before he raised his leg and placed his foot on the back of Unmarried Man’s head, grounding the ball of his foot down. “Tell me, mutt. With what money?”

“I… I don’t know, b-but I’ll get it,” Unmarried Man’s voice shook.

Latiss clicked his tongue. All the while, his boot never relented, much like his conceited eyes. “Come now, peasant. Do you expect me to believe that? You only make enough to put crumbs on the table. Where do you work, the mines? Die today and they’ll replace you tomorrow. Believing you have the means to make amends is laughable. In fact, I should be charging you for breathing the same air as me… Actually—” Latiss turned to his lackeys— “Start counting. Every second he breathes is a silver coin he owes.”

“Let’s give him a discount for every minute he makes it,” Jrue said with a smirk.

Latiss mirrored Jrue’s expression before turning back to Unmarried Man. “Best start now, mutt. You’re not leaving until you’ve paid for my suit in the form of your suffering.”

Cal watched as Unmarried Man inhaled deeply. Fingers flexing, Cal glanced at Unmarried Man’s friend, who sat petrified before his eyes glanced toward Cal.

Thirty seconds passed before Liam frowned. “This is boring,” he muttered. Right after, he nudged Unmarried Man’s ribs with his foot. “You’re boring me, mutt. Do a trick.”

Unable to speak as he was still holding his breath, Unmarried Man didn’t respond. Latiss scowled. “Why aren’t you speaking to me, mutt? Do you think you’re better than me?!”

Following his shout, Latiss wound his foot back and slammed it into Unmarried Man’s side. The man released a pain gasp, choking for air but not gaining any as Latiss wound his foot back and drilled it into the same spot.

“You breathed, mutt! That’s forty silver you owe, on top of the suit!” he shouted while repetitively kicking Unmarried Man’s ribs. “You damn commoners, always thinking your lives are so important when you’re as replaceable as the dust in my third bedroom! So weak and willing to lick the boots of those more powerful! Pitiful! Disgusting!”

Latiss’ breaths grew ragged as he pulled his sword from its sheath and pulled Unmarried Man up by his forearm. The cool silver of Latiss’ blade met the wrist of his victim. “I pity you pathetic bugs, so I’ll show mercy and take your hand as compensation. Is that fair?”

Between choked sobs and shallow inhales, Unmarried Man shook his head. “P-Please, L-Lord Latiss… A-Anything but that.”

“This is not an agreement,” Latiss hissed.

Hardly anyone was watching anymore, and as Latiss pressed his blade on the man’s wrist, no one dared watch on. Blood had begun to seep from Unmarried Man’s wrist, yet Latiss did not stop. Even as ear-piercing cries rose from the man’s throat, he didn’t stop.

Latiss wasn’t bluffing.

Cal couldn’t watch the scene any longer, so he did the rational thing… and intervened.

Within the blink of an eye, Cal’s left hand grabbed the wrist of Latiss’ sword-wielding hand while Cal’s right hand clasped the hilt of his dagger. he didn’t plan to pull it out, he just wanted his opponent to know that he had a weapon and wasn’t against putting it to use. He looked up at the blonde then—the few inches he had on me surprising Cal a bit—before he tightened his hold on Latiss’ wrist.

“Let him go.”

Latiss’ face twisted in revulsion. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Let him go, lest he loses a hand.”

“That’s the point, dreg! This suit cost a thousand gold! I won’t allow some lowborn to dirty it without compensation!”

“It was just beer. Besides, you look like you can afford it. Why not release him and go buy a new one?”

“Are you testing me?” Latiss demanded before dropping his sword and snatching a small knife from the bar.

The knife was at Cal’s neck, but at the same time that Latiss had grabbed and pointed the blade at Cal, he had already drawn his dagger and placed it at Latiss’ larynx. The two lackeys followed suit, drawing their blades and pointing them at Cal.

… but in the meantime, just behave.

Airetore was going to be mad.

Cal clicked his tongue in annoyance. He only wanted to scare the pompous blonde, but Latiss wasn’t as weak-minded as Cal had expected, nor were his friends. They were all used to fighting, and probably well-trained, especially with the speed at which they moved.

Could they be nobles? Or worse, royalty?

The thought was interrupted though as the double doors of the tavern burst open. Standing in the bright light of the afternoon suns, a young man stood. With eyes the color of the sky—a blinding charm behind them—and hair the color of wheat fields before a successful harvest, the tall man stood casually with both hands placed in the pockets of his white trousers, an easygoing grin plastered on his charming face.

“Yo… What’s going on here?”