Sayrin’s eyes fluttered open as the rumbling carriage hit a particularly large bump in the road. He had been cramped into the carriage for hours and hours, his wounds aching as he recovered, and the road, though paved with smooth stones, was still bumpy and unpleasant to traverse for any great length of time. And yet he felt… good. Really good. But he surely didn’t have any doubts as to why.
Though the suns had just set, the faint orange glowstones outside their carriage combined with the hazy purple and green of the evening sky, let in dull rusty shafts of light that lit up the long slender fingers of his wife as she moved up and down the strings of her lyre. This is one she’d been tinkering with for years and had some dozen strings more than it was supposed to. But this unique design, though unorthodox, meant she could create the softest and most richly sweet tones that played off one another. The notes weren’t loud, and yet they carried on the wind kissing his ears and filling his mind with peace.
Every now and then, she would reach further to pluck at one of the thicker strings, creating a deep resonance that both seemed to fight against the melody and yet elevate it as well. It was an almost intoxicating experience, and before he knew it, Sayrin had once more closed his eyes, drifting back into a warm hazy sleep.
Finally, the carriage pulled to a stop and Sayrin roused himself once more, the deafening silence and stillness without the regular movement of the road told him they had arrived at their first destination: The artisan's city, Rosoon.
Reaching out, Sayrin softly placed his hand on his wife's, and said “Dearest, we’re stopping for the night. You can stay here for a little while longer, but I need to make sure the soldiers are settled and those that brought their families are given the proper accommodations in the barracks. I’ll be back for you shortly.” he wrapped his knuckle twice and the carriage door was opened for him, but he paused as he climbed out and said in a whisper “And dear… thank you for the songs while I slept. Truly.” Then with a final squeeze of her hand, Sayrin left his half-sleeping wife and strolled outside for the first time in hours.
True to form, the outpost in Rosoon was just opulently built. Sayrin was used to the rough and ready building style when it came to most military buildings. Get a few earth users together, have each of them construct walls and a roof of stone, and just like that you have your new base of operations. Of course, the cots, sleeping rolls, food, weapons, and all the other supplies needed to keep soldiers functional in the field had to be carried with them in spatial compartments, but at least they never lacked for shelter.
Their more permanent bases of operation were given more focused attention by higher ranking users able to add more nuance and architectural finesse to the buildings, but they nevertheless had the same general footprint and construction as every other building. Dosoon though, Dosoon was different.
Elegant columns rose from pedestals all around the central open-air courtyard, supporting beautifully carved arches between them, and large red glowstones that helped light up the gloomy night without sacrificing their night vision. This was just a small part of the city that the government had claimed as their own for any and all official military operations needing to travel through the area, but even still, it was as though the citizens wouldn’t tolerate such ugly buildings in their vicinity. For each barrack building rather than being long and low with an occasional window, was tall and masterfully designed. The floors were honest to gods wood rather than rough stone, and there were even smaller rooms inside that slept four a piece instead of the long single bay room they were used to.
Walking up to his men, Sayrin said in his deep commanding voice “Well, certainly not the worst accommodations we could have had, eh? Don’t get used to it though, I hear the mountain villages are quite austere.”
At once the group snapped to attention, and the senior most one there, sergeant Delv, saluted and said simply “Yes sir, we won’t sir.”
Returning the salute, Sayrin said “Please, at ease everyone. So, sergeant, how are the soldiers getting settled? And where might I find lieutenant Hanrin?”
At the command of ‘at ease’ the group of soldiers all immediately clasped their hands behind their backs and looked at him with entirely blank expressions. All except one. Mouley looked at Sayrin with gnashing teeth and eyes of ice and fire. Sayrin hadn’t ever really respected the young man, as he was far too… simple for Sayrin’s liking, but here at least, he could respect the direct and unveiled hatred the man had developed for Sayrin.
“The lieutenant was at the head of the convoy last time I saw him, along with lieutenant Gorin. We’re settling in fine, those with families are being given the room to themselves, everyone else is bunking up by squad. We’ll do lights-out in thirty minutes, Sir.” came the dispassionate response from Delv.
Sayrin remembered the formerly excited and hard-working soldier Delv had been, eager to prove himself and eager to assist.
Sighing, Sayrin nodded and said “Thank you sergeant. Come find me just before lights out once all the soldiers are settled in, we’ll go over the hit times for tomorrow.”
“Roger sir, will do.” was all he got in response, before the entire group turned and wordlessly walked away. Mouley cast back one more look before following the rest into the work of art that passed for a building.
Looking up at the little green moon in the night sky with his hands on his hips, Sayrin said quietly “I can’t help but dig myself holes at every turn, it seems. It just… never stops, does it?” He stayed rooted to the spot for a minute longer, before shaking his head and setting off to find his two lieutenants, or rather, his two remaining lieutenants.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Carcello thought about how his father had made this trip earlier this month, and how uneventful the voyage had been. Sure, lots of unprecedented and borderline unhinged things had happened once they’d arrived in Lyra itself, but the trip across the Tibernus sea was as uneventful as they came.
Carcello shook the thought away as he once more brought down his massive war hammer, a percussive and deeply satisfying thud echoing out. It would have been better, Carcello thought, if there wasn’t an absolute madhouse on the deck of his vessel, he could hardly hear himself breathe, let alone the impact of his hammer.
“I’ve got about fifteen more off the starboard bow!” came a slightly panicked voice.
Growling with determination, Carcello sprinted forwards, each step on his left sending a dull ache up through his spine. The wound was more-or-less healed, but more or less wasn’t the same as completely healed. Still, he wouldn’t let something like that prevent him from carrying out his duty aboard the vessel.
The rough waves threw their vessel back and forth, frequently washing over the hull in an attempt to drown the ship and those upon it. At least it’s not storming tonight, Carcello had time to think before he threw himself into the latest batch of the most annoying and persistent monsters plaguing these waters: The Sea Squirrels.
Thirty minutes later and there was finally a break from the furry little demons. Sea squirrels weren’t that dangerous on their own, being relatively slow and weak individually. The problems arose when they swarmed, and unfortunately for him, Carcello was realizing for the first time just how large the schools of sea squirrels were. That, plus their sleek fur that allowed them to shrug off weaker blows, clawed webbed paws for slicing at any exposed areas, and lightning-fast reflexes that made them difficult to hit anyway meant they were a real menace as they wore people down by sheer relentless volume.
As Carcello slid down against a wall, he dismissed his dirt brown helm and took in deep breaths of the cool night air. The suit of armor he wore for combat was excellently made, and the helmet ventilated air well enough, but he still found himself having trouble breathing as battles went on and his endurance started to flag. While sitting there catching his breath, another soldier came over and sat down next to him. The man was clad in a midnight black fur coat with tufts of white dotting it in seemingly random places. He had a bushy, unkempt beard and eyes like burning coals set deeply in his skull. He reached over with arms of corded steel and proffered a small flask.
“That is some fine armor you have there” his voice was rich and heavily accented, telling Carcello he was from the far far north where the mountains never thawed. “And an even finer hammer. Name’s Hjaldin, it is a pleasure to be fighting with you.”
Taking the flask, Carcello sniffed it, and smelling nothing, took a tentative swig. His face immediately grew hot, as he felt the liquid blaze a trail of fire down to his belly. Scrunching up his face, he replied “I’m… Carcello, and… pleasure, but what on Gaius’ good earth was that?”
Laughing raucously, Hjaldin said “That is a special concoction of mine, it is Taertereldnvatsh in my hometown, but you can call it a clearwater home brew.”
He reached out to take it back, but after hesitating a moment, Carcello took another sip before surrendering the liquid. “It’s nothing like the wines I know from Loterre, and it burns like hell's own fire on the way down. But… I like it.”
Taking a swig of his own, spilling some of it on his mangled web of a beard, he gave a broad-toothed grin before spitting it back as a bout of white and blue flames just past Carcello’s face.
Taking a split second to comprehend what just happened, Carcello’s head snapped around to see the burning and thrashing body of an enormous sea squirrel that had been mere feet from him. Acting without a second thought, and without rising from his seated position, Carcello swung his war hammer up with a herculean effort before bringing it down on the head of the creature, ending its life in an instant.
Or that’s what should have happened. To Carcello’s shock, however, while the mighty hammer blow forced its head into the reinforced planks of the ship's deck, it did not end the creature's life. It had been severly injured and was bleeding from a massive gouge out of its head, but nevertheless rose and screamed a shrill, gut wrenching noise at him before a piece of molten slag suddenly appeared in the middle of its wound, dropping the monster in an instant, giving Carcello the warm energy that confirmed a kill.
“It would seem the big brothers have come to revenge us for what we did to their little siblings. Come, our shift has not yet ended, and we must defend.” Grabbing Carcello by the forearm, the shorter man hauled him to his feet.
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Looking around, Carcello saw that he was right. Though the numbers were less than half what they had been, the sea squirrels themselves were now almost twice as large. Before, they would have fit in the palm of his hand and were almost cute in a weird fish sort of way. Now everything was blown up to uncomfortable proportions and they just seemed… wrong. Where before they had fluffy little ears and small brown eyes, now they had gnashing teeth and eyes like a bottomless void. Carcello knew from sailor's tales they could easily tear through flesh, bone, wood, metal, whatever they got their paws on. Though they were the weakest 2-Star monsters in the region, they were still 2-Stars nonetheless.
With a snap of his fingers, Carcello’s helm grew back over his head like grains of sand, and he hefted his war hammer to his shoulder as the calls began to ring out around the ship and the school of 2-star sea squirrels descended.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“What do you mean you won’t fight, uh, my Lord?” Asked an incredulous 3-Star, with the tone of someone who’s had a very long day and a very short fuse left over.
“I mean that unless a 4-Star monster, or better yet a couple of 4-Star monsters show up, I won’t fight. I refuse. Honestly I might not even step in then. There are what, four or five 3-Star warriors dispersed throughout this sorry fleet? You should be able to kill a monster at your own rank each, and the lot of you should be able to handle one at a rank above. Come on Trevor, this cannot be surprising to you at this point.” Lord Cain said all of this, before casually sitting back and popping a tiny slice of a purple fruit into his mouth. His face scrunched up and he muttered “whew… that was sour.”
“Even if there are multiple 3-Star monsters, or even multiple… You’d watch us all sink to the bottom of the Tibernus, food for those… those blasted squirrels?!”
Cain just looked at him, stared at him, eyes never wavering or breaking contact for a moment. Even though Trevor wanted to look away, to blink, to breath… he couldn’t. It was as if he was held there by some force beyond his power to control, which for a 3-Star Captain in the Loterran army… was something hard to grasp. Slowly, ever so slowly, Lord Cain brought another piece of fruit to his lips and munched on it loudly. Finally, he gave a protracted sigh and Trevor was able to finally blink again.
“You kids these days have no spines. Not like in the last war, now those were the days. Not backing down even to the last man. chomping at the bit to take on a good challenge” He scratched his chin as he ate another piece of fruit. “Trevor,” he said “Tell your peers there are three 4-Stars in the depths right now that I can sense. If you all can handle one, I will make sure the other two stay away. Understand?”
Closing the door on his way out of the room, Trevor rubbed his hand over his face and took a moment to just inhale and exhale. He really shouldn’t be doing this. As a 3-Star, he didn’t need to breathe anymore and the benefits to not doing so were clear to everyone. Hell, he’d been reprimanded enough times by Carla. But sometimes… sometimes you needed to take a deep breath in order to let it back out to truly exemplify and address your annoyance and frustration.
“I think after this mission is over… I’m going to retire and become a chef or something. I’ve always liked cooking.” Then his face grew pale. “What if that monster comes to my restaurant?” He lapsed into silence before retrieving a small bronze crystal from his spatial ring and imprinting the message into it that Lord Cain had said. There were multiple 4-Star monsters on the way. And they’d have to handle them alone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Maggie rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she once more poured over the documents scattered infront of her in a complicated disaray.
She had collected as much information as she possibly could from the past few weeks and felt so strongly there was a pattern to it all. Her instincts were screaming at her that there was something more going on here. Though they hadn’t exchanged any words, she and wade had shared a long enough look at that ritual site in the farmland to let Maggie know she was on the same page, something here wasn’t adding up.
The dwarf that Kya brought in had, however reluctantly, given testimony about the ritual and it’s events. Though it was almost impossible that he had lied, there was still so much that he didn’t say. He more or less just confirmed what they already knew, that two farmers had managed to quietly accrue enough resources to build the ritual chamber and attempt to ressurect the man’s deceased wife. The son being an Earth User explained how they were able to engage in such a large scale project. It would have been incredibly difficult for a 1-Star do have dug out that entire space alone, but given enough time… sure. Maggie could buy that.
Then looking at the son’s contract history she’d pulled from the guilds archive showed a steady stream of low risk, low reward contracts he’d been comleting for the last nine months or so. Again, it would have required a level of frugality that borders on the insane, but saving every last scrap of money he made combined with the income from the farm itself… alright, they maybe could have afforded all those death crystals. Maybe.
But from there, Maggie was left with only questions that lead to more questions. How did the father, a Zero with no connections at all, get the training to enact a ritual in the first place, let alone one that complex and taboo. How did they aquire so many death attuned crystals without anyone noticing, and from where? There were no financial records of purchases by that family in the guild markets, meaning they had to have come from an outside source if they’d bought them one or two at a time that would be one thing, but it was clear there were dozens and dozens of crystals at one point. Why were they even using death attuned crystals in the first place? Raising the undead could be done in two ways, through reanimation, or through undeath. If they wanted to bring back the mother in any meanigful way so that she would be able to even remember them, they would have needed to use life attuned crystals, not death. And there were a lot of dismembered body parts there which couldn’t be explained in any real way. Either he’d been a serial murderer for months, or had plenty of willing sacrifices to aide him, neither of which made sense.
But all of that aside, discounting all of that... how had Kya even know this was going on? It wasn’t like she had just stumbled into the secret underground layer of a resurrection ritual. Was she a part of all of this, and this was just setting up for something bigger? And she was a spatial user on top of everything else. Maggie didn’t care overly much one way or another about people's classes. Except for those disgusting Emotion Users, the rest were pretty much the same. What mattered more were their cultural ties and whether or not they were an ass. Rory was the best healer she knew and genuinely cared about trying to heal any and every patient he had, but he still had certain… flaws that kept her icy towards him.
Maggie rose from her chair in her guild hall office and stretched. She needed to take a step back and get some air. She’d been at this for hours and hours researching everything she could about this case and needed to take a break before she went insane.
Going up to the second floor library, Maggie took a deep breath as she looked around the magnificent place. She loved the library with a passion, and for her, sitting in one of the plush armchairs under the magnificent dome and reading a book was a break from the work downstairs.
She took a while to parouse the familiar shelves like a gardener looking at rows of flowers before finally picking one and retiring to her favorite armchair. It was on a terrace with a light right next to it that perfectly illuminated the page she was reading, while also letting her see the eastern sky so she could watch the suns rise in a couple of hours.
Tucking her feet under herself, and pulling out a blanket from the spatial pouch she wore at her hip, Maggie snuggled up into her chair and opened the book The Various Uses and Effects of Attuned Crystals in Magic Rituals by Apoxilus Talos. Lord Talos had tragically died some four centuries back, but he had been one of the most prodigous scholars of his time, and was a personal favorite of Maggie’s.
Opening the cover to the satisfying cracks of leather and smell of old pages, she began her “break” in earnest and dug in.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Carcello had three abilities, just like every other fully awakened User in the world. He didn’t have a subclass, never having felt the need or desire for one. He was pure Earth through and through. His family, more specifically the servants of the house, had done the research to find out exactly what abilities he had once he awakened them, as the Knowledge Users from Cretion had long since made a compendium of every known class and subclass, as well as the myriad abilities unique to each class.
Carcello’s first ability, the one he’d awakened the moment he received his class ritual, was also his most commonly used and most simple in application. It went by many names in the many cultures around the world, but Carcello liked the simple Titans Strength. It did exactly what it sounded like and made him stronger. He could consume a little of his energy for small boosts, or a massive amount of energy for a power that was almost a full star ahead of his current abilities. This kind of attack left him drained afterwards, but usually, there wasn’t much left of his enemies afterwards to take advantage of his weakened state, so it didn’t really matter.
Second to awaken was the only ability that was able to be unlocked by every class, making it hands down the most widely used skill in the world: Push and Pull. With this, he was able to manipulate any stone he was touching in almost any way he wished. These two abilities went almost hand in hand, and though it was all about technique and control, his raw strength certainly didn’t hurt if he ever wanted to do enormous seismic impacts.
His last ability to awaken, and the last ability holding him back from getting his second star, was a rare ability that was universally coveted by any User. There were some variations of it for other classes, and of course it was still recorded in the compendium, but it had been difficult to confirm that he had it. Due to its rarity, Carcello had taken to calling it by a name he’d come up with himself: Mountain Climber. It was tricky to use, with difficult to confirm restrictions, but Carcello knew instinctively when it would work and when it wouldn’t. And right now, on board the wooden ships in the middle of the ocean, there was no way this ability would work.
Despite this apparent hamstringing of his abilities by losing out, Carcello's lethality wasn’t diminished in any real capacity. His war hammer was expertly crafted specifically for him, and even carried his personal crest on its face, binding it to his soul. An extremely rare volcanic stone had been used in its crafting, and an incredibly powerful enchantment had been wrought into allowing its weight to match the strength of the wielder. All this to say, his hammer was both powerful, durable, and very much susceptible to his pushes and pulls.
Carcello almost flew across the deck of the ship as he vaulted off his hammer, spinning in mid-air to bring it crashing back down like a comet on the head of the next 2-Star Sea squirrel. After his initial shock at being rebuffed from the first squirrel, he had taken that as a personal challenge to never let it happen again. From then on, each and every one of his hammer blows meant death to an enemy without exception or fail. He’d been using his strength ability to enhance every strike even more than his pushes and gravity itself already did, but each time he did so made the next swing a little harder, made his hammer feel a little heavier, made his muscles feel a little weaker.
However, in these moments, it was Hjaldin that showed his incredible talents. The man wore what looked to be pure iron fingerless gloves, both with brightly glowing ruby’s affixed to the back of the hand with intricate carvings extending to each of his knuckle joints. With each and every punch, the squirrels were burned and cooked alive in their own skin, and for every attack that didn’t land, it just signaled that he was using his own pushes and pulls on the piece of stone he carried with him that had turned into a glowing piece of magma under his influence. The small molten spike flew around the ships deck, and though Carcello knew it was under his command, it almost seemed to have a mind of it’s own as it killed one sea squirrel after another.
But even the two of them, along with the other soldiers on watch, could only last so long. A turning point was reached when Hjaldin had to recall his powerful flaming arrow, and though he still bellowed loudly and punched wildly, Carcello could tell his strength was flagging just as he was. The helm on his head was growing unbearable as the fight wore on, he was panting and gasping for air. His limbs felt like lead and his bones felt like they weighed twice what they had mere minutes before. His damned leg was paining him more than ever before, he felt like it was about to break off at any second. But he had to hold on, he knew he had to hold on. There were soldiers below deck that were counting on him to hold. He knew he needed to dig a little deeper. He knew his time on watch was almost over, so he just had to… had to…
Carcello, chest heaving like bellows and white knuckles on his hammer, stopped mid swing. There were no monsters directly in front of him. His haggard mind took a moment to comprehend that they were fleeing, webbed feet scampering over the deck and diving into the crashing waves.
Carcello walked over to the edge of the boat and rested on the railing there, hammer propped next to him as he struggled to catch his breath and control his racing heart. He didn’t understand, they had killed a lot of squirrels tonight, but he didn’t feel like they had done nearly enough to drive off the horde.
“There.” Came Hjaldin’s voice. He gestured with his head way ahead and to the west. There was a small island or… or some sort of rock formation or… or…
“Oh Gaius, above and below” he whispered his quiet prayer into the abnormally quiet night air “protect us.”
The small island turned its head towards their fleet of ships… and bellowed so loudly it blasted back the water from where it stood in all directions like a living catechclism wrought from on high.