Chapter 23: A New Beginning

TRISTAN

The four days since Sharing Cross, which was what the Scout had called the ooze-cursed town, had been grating. It was almost like Aaric had been trying to prove himself better than Tristan in any way he could, as if they didn’t walk entirely different Paths.

Tristan preferred the silent treatment he'd gotten before.

At least with the Scout, the changes were more limited. He’d watched them a bit more closely, especially the first day. Most of all Aaric. But Tristan was also pretty sure the man had smiled when Tristan had called out the ice mage. He'd definitely been smiling when he'd handed out the wash rags and demanded the pair of them clean themselves.

“No one’s going to clean up your messes for you out here,” he'd said.

The Scout had never really let much of his true personality bleed through his business-first persona, so the only real change in the man was that he now stretched his legs all the way out across his seat, something impossible before, when he’d had to share the seat.

It made a sort of sense, in a dark, cynical way. Just like the man’s lack of emotional response. He's a professional, and it's not his job to be our friend. He was hired for a reason, and it clearly wasn’t to help us in that fight. If Tristan was even partially right, he hoped he’d never grow to think that way. It felt awfully cold. No matter how high a level he reached, he would still help people.

On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Aaric wasn’t dealing with the loss well at all. At first he’d stopped leaving the carriage for meals. Then he’d sunk even deeper into his books, studying constantly, flicking papers noisily at a rate that made Tristan wonder if he was actually reading that quickly or just trying to look like he was. He’d returned to only using party chat to have conversations. Even when Tristan began by speaking aloud, the responses only came in chat.

Two days ago they’d crossed into the Embrace’s domain, and while Tristan had still been reading the honestly frightening notifications, Aaric had started flooding party chat with one full story after another of the god’s history. Tristan at first had wondered if it was just copied and pasted from elsewhere, but sprinkled in between the massive walls of text were references, details, and asides that felt much more personal.

Tristan had decided to ignore the Aaric’s endless scroll and minimized the chat, switching his focus back to the notifications.

You have entered the domain of the god known as the Embrace.

You are now under the effects of the following auras:

[Safe Passage] -25% damage received from ALL harmful effects.

[Grow and Flourish] All food and water needs are reduced by 50%.

[Welcome Home] You are filled with a sense of belonging and safety.

Of course he'd felt these auras the moment they’d crossed the boundary. He just hadn’t understood exactly what the subtle warmth was, or why it made him feel like he’d just stuffed himself full with a home-cooked meal while relaxing in the sun. It had felt like a welcoming hug from his mother, which made him miss the woman, despite strangely not feeling any homesickness.

Accompanying the auras, he’d also noticed a visible change in the world outside the carriage. The grass was certainly greener here, and taller, too. All along the road, there were flowers blooming, some lining trails toward trees thicker than he could reach around, and the sky was a cloudless, pristine blue.

Had Aaric not been constantly pinging him with detailed scientific and historical explanations of “the grandeur of these auras,” Tristan would have found the whole experience really pleasant.

But no, the ice mage had kept spamming the party chat with the names of famous mages that had studied in each city of the domain, and how many dungeons of each tier were in which regions, and how the market for spells was “so much cheaper” than home due to taxes or something. It went on and on. It had been like reading an encyclopedia. Tristan had debated turning on the timestamps to see precisely how long it went on. He’d never needed them before, so he’d left them in their default setting: off. To turn them on here would have been childish. And depressing.

Because somehow Aaric was still going, and it had already been a full thirty minutes.

Tristan really wished he hadn’t checked.

Of all the information Tristan had skimmed, his only useful takeaway was that many researchers considered the Embrace's domain to be the optimal tier 2 grinding spot for this section of the world. So that was good.

After the info dump finally stopped, Aaric had gone back to his books, only breaking his isolation when Tristan said something. No matter what it was, even a simple question about when they'd stop next, Aaric pounced on every opportunity to answer, still in party chat. It hadn't mattered who was being addressed, or if the Scout had already answered. Tristan could see Aaric was grasping for something--control perhaps--and while that made sense under these circumstances, he still didn’t enjoy Aaric’s need to have the final word on everything.

So Tristan had asked if they would just drop him at the gates of Rockmoor.

“Of course,” Aaric had replied in chat.

Not even a moment later, Tristan had been removed from the party.

On the positive side of things, Tristan had enjoyed complete silence ever since.

Tristan spent the rest of the journey reflecting on the battle surrounding Jacques’s death. He had made lots of mistakes, he was sure, but nothing truly stood out. Tristan knew his swordplay had much more room to improve, but he'd also never had a real instructor.

Soon Jamal would fix all that. Tristan just needed to find his contact in Rockmoor, who would take him to Jamal, who would teach him not only how to earn the swordsman Class but to excel in it. It was a phenomenal plan, and it would be enough. He just had to stop focusing on the past and on the things he couldn’t change any more.

Getting away from Aaric was going to help that.

It was almost noon when Tristan stepped out of the carriage at the gates of Rockmoor. He could have ridden into the city with the others, and perhaps he should have for safety, but he’d had more than enough of Aaric Longbloom’s company. There was no way the feelings weren’t mutual.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Stepping beneath the massive gates at the edge of the city, Tristan received another notification that stood out even at first glance. It was presented in a different font, almost as if an actual person had written it. It certainly felt more personal.

The Embrace welcomes you to Rockmoor.

This city is a [Sanctuary], so comport yourself appropriately, lest you reap what you sow.

Have a blessed day.

He honestly wasn't sure what to make of that, especially since he’d never seen the word ‘comport’ before. Still, the whole message had felt like a warning of some sort, though the [Sanctuary] property was interesting. Almost as interesting as seeing the word ‘blessed’ used not as a curse. He expanded the property just to remind himself what it was.

[Sanctuary] A ritual protecting a pre-designated space, usually a city or fortress, granting all tier 1 occupants great amounts of armor against other players and immunity to permanent death from unnatural external causes.

He'd actually forgotten that all the ritual’s protections turned off at tier 2.

But the rest of the notification is definitely warning others to behave better, right? I’m sure it'll be fine, he reassured himself. I've made it this far. How bad could it be?

He remembered his mother telling him that Rockmoor was a city many times bigger and richer than Woodsedge. The gates before him gave every indication that she was right. The enormous stone archway was covered in blooming ivy that somehow surrounded but didn’t mar any of the engraved runes Tristan didn’t understand. He wondered if it was natural or arranged.

Beyond the archway, wide, busy avenues stretched out into the distance. They were shaded by towering trees, whose branches grew together far above and formed a canopy that only managed to darken the city a bit against the glow of magic that was everywhere. Pops of color rustled in the trees, lined the buildings and roads, and adorned the people. To Tristan, it felt like this city belonged in an entirely different world from Woodsedge.

The thought thrilled him.

The streets were incredibly crowded, though Tristan found them surprisingly orderly. And while there were more people before him now than he'd met in his entire life, he found that he could usually predict how they’d move through the streets. They’re just everyday people, Tristan had to remind himself, and for them, this is normal.

Buildings were also crunched together three or four per block. When there were alleys, they seemed barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The city, despite being huge, felt tight and small--like Tristan had before he’d gotten new clothes the year of his growth spurt. So he wasn’t really surprised to see construction crews expanding a couple buildings upward, even ones already six stories high.

He was in awe of this place, and was genuinely glad that he had gotten to see it in his lifetime. He suddenly felt bad for all the people who’d never seen beyond Woodsedge. This felt like the perfect place for a new beginning.

Tracing the main road all the way to its end, he saw the biggest building of all. From where he stood, it seemed like the building might have been larger than all of Woodsedge put together. It had multiple layers of walls and gardens and towers. It was somehow both approachable and defensible. Tristan knew this was the center of the city, where all the roads converged: the Grand Temple of the Embrace.

Even at this distance Tristan could see that the many pillars supporting the grand, terraced design were also sculpted statues. They showed people of different races and ages, wearing clothes of different styles, but they all had the same smile. It looked calming, reassuring. To Tristan, the smile resembled the one his mother always wore (and his father seldom did), but still slightly... off.

Tristan was glad he didn't need to go anywhere near there anytime soon.

He scrolled back up to the last private message the Scout had sent him. The man had seemed surprisingly supportive, glad to give Tristan more detailed directions on how to get where he was supposed to meet his contact. The Scout had highlighted several landmarks along what he called the safest route, and stressed which streets absolutely should be avoided. Tristan had memorized those immediately. He still kept the message up on his interface though, just in case he needed the reminder. The final line still unnerved him:

“Be careful in The Agora.”

Tristan checked that his sword was still easily accessible on his back. Despite this being a [Sanctuary] city under a literal god’s protection, the Scout had felt the need to warn him.

What kind of place was he about to walk into?

- - - - -

SOPHIE

Sophie had just settled into her usual lunch spot at the corner table closest to the entrance when she spotted her first good prospect in what felt like a week. She noticed his incredibly broad shoulders first, since he needed to turn sideways when he entered to accommodate someone else walking out through the double swinging doors. That told her that he was at least a little bit considerate. Based on the way his eyes constantly circled the place she supposed he might also be meeting someone.

He was clearly several years older than her, certainly taller than her, and wore his dirty blond hair in a shaggy mop above what looked like freshly-cleaned traveling attire. It made her question what was in the big, oddly wide bag that he’d set right beside his foot. He had a huge sheathed sword belted across his back, though Sophie wasn’t actually sure whether that carrying style would make the weapon accessible enough in the event of real trouble. The one advantage to having it openly displayed like that was that it told Sophie that he was probably lower tier. She appreciated such obvious signs since she didn’t have access to [Identify] yet. She knew it was an exceedingly common practice for martial types especially to have magical storage made specifically for their primary weapons. Quick access could literally be the difference between life and death in the later levels.

She hadn’t really been close enough to those kinds of people to test the validity of such claims. But maybe this time I’ll get to find out.

As Sophie continued to watch the boy, her estimation of him steadily rose. She appreciated that he hadn’t immediately gone to the bar to order drinks and instead took only a few steps into the room before backing up against a wall and using the relatively secluded spot to survey his surroundings. He even kept his bag out of the way of servers and anyone that passed nearby. Clearly not used to places like The Agora.

Sophie tore off a small chunk of the bread on her plate and held it in her hand as Poof gobbled it up quickly. The gentle and inquisitive “Meep?” from her favorite cuddle buddy gave Sophie a moment’s pause.

“He does look like a suitable candidate,” she agreed in a whisper, “but I don’t know if we’re really looking for only one more person. Besides, with a sword like that he’s probably a damage dealer too. I think I’d still rather find us a tank to keep us all safe.” Even after saying that, Sophie wasn’t quite ready to dismiss the boy either. Mr. Biggs was a tank after all, and she’d need to learn to use him effectively eventually.

She would observe the boy for a few more minutes at least while she and Poof finished their meal. It was a rare day when the chips accompanying the sandwiches weren’t burned a bit, and today’s basket had been the perfect golden color.

By the time Poof had licked up the final crispy crumb from their shared basket, Sophie had made up her mind. The boy had finally been noticed and cornered by one of the waitresses, who had led him to a table not too far from where Sophie herself sat. He’d been very polite and quite a bit obtuse, if not incredibly naive with her. Sophie had heard some of the things the girl was saying, and several were enough to make even her blush! Still, all the boy ordered was one glass that bubbled instead of foamed, so Sophie guessed it wasn’t alcoholic.

As he finished a long swallow and set the drink down. Sophie could tell that he was growing increasingly disheartened as he looked around the room again.

This time Sophie didn’t look away quite quickly enough, and their eyes met. Sophie watched the consideration cross his brow as he no doubt categorized everything about her that he could see.

I guess there’s no time like the present.

She put on her brightest smile and once again replaced the pink bow on the center of Poof’s head before standing and walking straight toward him.

“Good afternoon,” she said, extending her free hand to point toward one of the empty chairs around his table. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”