ã€ŠMeat Eatersã€‹


 Prologue: Fall from Nobility

    Prologue rewritten on Jan. 9<sup>th</sup>, 2017.

    A black haired noble boy sat in his room, reading the Tales of Varia. He was engrossed in the extravagant stories, reading of gallant knights saving princesses from evil lords, and brave little tailors who went on to become famous heroes. He read of hunters who brought down wyverns, and lords who lived in castles in the sky.

    ¡°Dearest, come greet our guests!¡± his mother called.

    The boy¡¯s name was Forte Mott, and it was the eve of his nineth birthday. King Richard Barron and his daughter were visiting the Mott estate today, and Forte dressed in elegant attire to greet the king. He walked down the stairs, when he stopped and saw the king standing in the front door, already conversing with his parents. The boy had met the king once, a year ago, and the portly man seemed generous and affable. But tonight, he wore a serious expression with gaunt eyes.

    ¡°Come in, come in!¡± said his mother pleasantly.

    The king entered the Mott estate with his daughter in hand, a beautiful six-year-old girl with refined, almost elven features reminiscent of her late mother¡¯s. In her hand was a stuffed doll of a bear. Despite her cute appearance, she had an air of haughtiness to her.

    Behind the king walked two servants dressed in fine night gowns. After the servants, four slaves entered with an impressive buffalo-like creature dangling from their shoulders on a spit.

    ¡°I heard that it was your boy¡¯s birthday soon. Here¡¯s a surprise for him,¡± the king boasted, gesturing at the slog. ¡°Prime cut, this one is. Had it brought to me straight from the western plains.¡±

    Forte¡¯s father examined the beast. ¡°How can we thank your generosity, your majesty?¡±

    A smile broke out from the king¡¯s tired face. ¡°You may thank me at another time. But tonight, we feast!¡±

    The slaves lugged the carcass towards the Mott estate¡¯s kitchen. Forte¡¯s mouth watered simply thinking of the slog. He descended the remaining stairs, just as the king¡¯s entourage entered the dining room.

    ¡°Come to the dining room, Forte,¡± called his father. His voice echoed through the estate. The boy walked into the dining room, and was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food on the table. There were meat pies and blueberry pies, jams and breads,spiced ales and roasted duck, and many other fine dishes.

    ¡°There¡¯s my boy,¡± bellowed the king at the sight of Forte. ¡°He¡¯s growing big and strong. And here¡¯s my gift to you!¡±

    Forte noticed that the serious expression the king wore when he entered melted into the same affable king he met once before. The doors to the dining room swung open as servants brought out a massive, glistening cut of roasted slog. Forte¡¯s eyes widen in anticipation.

    ¡°The freshest cut of slog in the whole kingdom¡ªstraight from the western plains,¡± the king roared. ¡°Now, let us feast!

    Forte dug into the suckling duck and roasted slog. The roasted slog was cooked to perfection, both tender and juicy while having just the right bit of pink inside. Forte devoured his cut and asked the servants to serve him more.

    Princess Scarlett sat across from him, slightly to the left. He noticed that she barely touched her food. She motioned for a servant, and pointed towards her plate.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°Sister, the peas are touching the duck. I want a new plate.¡±

    The servant wordlessly took her plate, coming back a few moments later with a new one. Forte glanced at the king, who simply laughed at his daughter¡¯s antics.

    They dined for hours. Once Forte was finished, his mother placed him and Scarlett into a play pen together, as a group of servants looked on. Forte grabbed his favorite toy, a wooden sword, and began swinging at imaginary enemies. Scarlett sat in the corner and brushed specks of dirt off her stuffed bear.

    ¡°Hey Scarlett, what¡¯s your bear¡¯s name?¡± he asked, swinging away at imaginary knights. ¡°Wanna play?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk to you,¡± Scarlett replied, as she took some of her hair and rolled it between her fingertips.

    Taken aback by her harsh response, Forte answered back in kind. ¡°Well you¡¯re out of time anyway.¡±

    He saw his mother heading towards the play pen, as the king barked some orders to his servants. The king¡¯s cheerful expression was gone, replaced by a look of weariness.

    ¡°Say goodbye to Scarlett, dear,¡± mother said, with an exasperated look on her face.

    ¡°Goodbye, Princess,¡± said Forte, pointing his wooden sword at Scarlett as she was liften from the play pen by the king¡¯s maid servant.

    ¡°Bye,¡± she replied, continuing to brush her bear and not once looking back at him.

    Mother carried Forte upstairs to his bedroom and tucked him in. She kissed him on the forehead.

    ¡°Your dad and I have to take care of some business in the Kari mountains. We¡¯ll be back in an hour, or two at most. Good night, honey.¡± His mother whispered, as a slight frown settled on her face. She kissed him again, this time on the cheek, as he drifted into a deep slumber, dreaming of twirling bears and swinging swords and the delicious aroma of roasted slog meat.

    ---

    Forte woke up a few hours later grumbling. He enjoyed the fizzy drink from dinner so much that he went down to the kitchen after his parents left and begged the kitchen servants for some. Now, the drink was taking a toll on his stomach. As Forte got up to go to the restroom, he gazed outside his window at the light snow falling and the stars in the sky. ''Just like in the books,'' he thought. And then he froze.

    Something was wrong. The moon was high in the sky, and yet his parents were still not back. But that was not what alarmed him most. For years, when Forte got up in the middle of the night and looked through his window, he would be comforted by the sight of Brother Thom, their house¡¯s servant and gatekeeper, in the outpost by the gates, huddled in thick coats and rocking back and forth as he read under the candlelight. And yet tonight, the candle in the outpost was not lit, and the gates were wide open. ''Brother Thom must¡¯ve needed to use the restroom too,'' he thought, as he headed out of his room to the relieve himself.

    As Forte reached the staircase, he heard the faint sound of a pair of heavy footsteps, coming from downstairs. Suddenly, a hand enclosed his mouth from behind.

    ¡°Shhh¡­ Forte, be quiet.¡±

    It was his family¡¯s maid servant, Sister Silvia. She put her head close to his and whispered into his ear, ¡°I don¡¯t know who these men are downstairs. You be a good boy and stay in your room, okay? Hide in your room, and don¡¯t make a sound. Good boy.¡±

    Forte nodded his head as Sister Silvia loosened her grip on him and pushed him towards his room. Forte quietly sprinted to his room and hid under the bed. After a long period of silence, Forte¡¯s hair stood on end as he heard Sister Silvia¡¯s shriek ringing through the estate. I have to warn Brother Thomm, Forte thought as he unlocked his window with shaking hands. He pulled down the window with his pudgy arms and forced himself out of the window, sliding down using the pipework running down the side of the mansion that facilitated rainfall.

    His feet plopped on the ground, the sound masked by the snow, as he ran towards the outpost. His hands were still stinging from friction as he rean towards the gate. Forte reached the outpost and jarred the door open, only to be struck by a foul stench of blood and sweat. Brother Thomm lay on the ground, dead, clutching his book. There was a stab wound through his mid section, and the blood had seeped through the old man¡¯s heavy coats. Forte felt a warmth spreading in his pants.

    Another shriek originated from the estate behind him. Forte slammed the door of the outpost shut, stomach still lurching, and began running as fast as his body could take him, away from his family¡¯s estate and into the direct of the Kari mountains.

 Interlude: Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

    Scarlett stared into her reflection in the mirror and tilted her head, letting her flowing hair sway to the right. A remarkably elegant looking girl blinked and tilted her head back at her. She had vibrant eyes and lashes, with eyes ever so slightly slanted and dark from makeup, granting her a foreignlook. Her small jaw was elegantly carved and accentuated by pretty pouted lips, creating an irresistibly alluring look. She had developed quite the figure for twelve. Her golden red locks gleamed in the candlelight. ¡°Flawless,¡± she thought to herself, as her lips puckered into a haughty but refined expression.

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    A week ago, she heard Casey talk about the new student in their year. Having students join in after the first year was an exceptionally rare occurrence in the Academy, and the rumors made her all the more curious.

 Chapter 1: The price of meat

    It was the king¡¯s orders. The king¡¯s. Three years had passed since the boy came to the Kari mountains. His parents went missing that night, and there was a priceput on his head. When he first fled to the mountains, he heard in a nearby town that the kingdom''s officialstory of his parents'' deathswas something about a horse drawn carriage, a mountainous pass, and heavy snowfall. He didn¡¯t believe a word of it--they were murdered.

    The mountainous wind howled into his ears. The cold was setting in, making every thought a struggle to maintain. The thin boy grimaced, huddlingunder an oversized coat as the wind and snow blew around him. The boy, despite his skinny state, had grown much taller in the three years since his ninthbirthday. He survived on the mountains with a solitary hermit called Timbu after discovering the bounty on his head. Timbu taught him how to fish, how to trap, and how to get by in the mountains. In the first few years, it was easy to hunt and get by. But in the last month, dangerous predators seemed to have migrated into the mountains, and Timbu never returned one morning. Forte could not figure out why. It was no longer safe in the mountains, and he was alone.

    How could the portly, generous, warmhearted king have done such a thing? Once he confirmed that it was without a doubt the King¡¯s orders, he would find his revenge, hitting him where the man hurt with a method more painful than those used by the most skilled assassins. But he was in no place to challenge the King at the moment. He was too weak, he had no connections, nothing. His family must have done something awful, he mused, for the King himself to order their assassination while covering it up as a transportation accident in the Kari mountains. The same Kari mountains that he was in right now. He would have his revenge, eventually.

    But that was wishful thinking. The boy¡¯s early years as nobility were all but forgotten. Forte¡¯s mind was racing near delirium as the weather beat down on his frail body. His lungs hurt, breathing in the icy wind as he tugged on the adult sized winter coat wrapped around him. He had no more family, no one he could trust. The king wrote him off as dead or incapacitated. Soon he would starve to death. Forte had nothing left, nothing but the cloak on his body and his father¡¯s old ring, which had rusted over time through wear, as it was coated in sweat and grime. As it was too big for Forte¡¯s small shivering hands, he had fastened it to a string and tied it around his neck like a necklace. The brown adult sized cloak he was wearing, given to Forte by a passing monk years ago, was wearing thin. Then, with a sudden gust of wind, the cloak was violently torn from Forte¡¯s shaking body. The boy¡¯s eyes watered, as the cold grew unbearable and stung his eyes. He managed to grab the dirty cloak before it was blown any further. Night was falling, and he could no longer escape the wolves in this mountain. The same wolves that had been stalking him for days.

    An hour passed. Forte was in the first stages of hypothermia. He could¡¯ve sworn he saw the gleaming eyes of wolves, testing his boundaries, curious and hungry. Finally, as he nearly dozed off, they emerged. Three wolves rose from the foliage, partially camouflaged by the tall trees around them. Night had truly fallen. Forte felt a chill¡ªa survival instinct kicking in for he who was about to die¡ªas he shot up and grabbed a tree branch, his hands shaking. ¡°Get away! Go! Scram!¡± he shouted, waving the stick at the approaching eyes. The leftmost wolf pounced, and the rest followed. Forte swung the branch in an arc, but it broke upon first contact, leaving the first wolf to nip at his left arm, which left a bloody indent in the boy¡¯s forearm. Luckily, the nerve remained intact. The second wolf leaped up and bit into his shoulder, teeth digging in deep and dragging the boy onto the ground with sheer weight. Forte nearly lost consciousness as he was slammed into the snowy ground, head bouncing off the ground as the wolves closed in on him. Just as the wolves were about to attack him again, they froze in place. And then Forte heard a trumpeting roar coming from deeper in the forest, from what sounded like a dragon.

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    And so it was. But not quite. What emerged from the shadows of the forested mountain was not the majestic creature Forte had half expected in his delirious state. A twisted and vile creature paced out on its two hind legs, creating dulled thuds in the ground beneath. The creature¡¯s head was gnarled and serpent-like, its body emaciated and its hide was a scale-less hue of deep dark brown. It was a wingless wyvern, and it had stalked this pack of wolves for hours. The wyvern snarled, and the wolves attempted to drag Forte back with them for a couple feet before abandoning the boy and turning tail. The wyvern set chase, hunting down the wolf that was dragging Forte and viciously biting at its neck. The two other wolves glanced at their former companion struggling vainly under the wyvern before fleeing.

    Forte, who laidpanting on the ground from the wolf attack, slowly crawled to the nearest shrubbery as his forearm and bloodied legs seared with pain. He mustered up the last of his strength and grabbed his cloak, pressing it onto his arm wound for a few seconds as it soaked up some blood, before curling it up and tossing the bloody rag onto a bush a few feet away. Forte shot out his right hand and dug under the snow for a handful of dirt. He then rubbed the dirt and snow onto his left forearm¡¯s ragged wolf-bite wound while his eyes teared up in pain.

    Further into the forest, he heard the final anguished howl of the wolf. The wyvern was pacing back with the carcass in its mouth, heading in Forte¡¯s direction. It was searching for him, an easy meal. Forte didn¡¯t have the chance to cover his body with dead leaves to completely mask his scent. He had bloodied his cloak and thrown it away to act as a decoy for the wyvern, because he knew from bedtime stories from his early childhood that wyverns mainly tracked by scent. Hopefully the dirt on his forearm would mask the scent of his blood.

    The wyvern gently placed down the wolf carcass in the middle of the forest clearing, and then headed towards the bloodied cloak thrown by Forte on the bush. It tore at the cloak, expecting to contact flesh with its bite. After a minute of fruitless attacks on the cloak, the wyvern spat the cloak onto the ground and sulked away. It picked up the carcass of the wolf and slowly dragged it back to its den, far on the other side of the mountain. Forte let out a long sigh, clearly visible against the cold air. A single tear dripped down the face of the boy, as he began sobbing. He was weak. He could not face the perils of the Kari mountains. Dangerous animals had migrated into the mountains recently, as the village on the bottom of the mountains that had once shooed them away was destroyed and abandoned for reasons he did not know. Large carnivorous animals followed the recent animal migrants, and even more dangerous predators, like the wyvern, followed their large prey. The Kari mountains were no longer a safe haven for Forte.

    And yet he could not go to any villages¡ªthey still had old missing person notices, issued by a mysterious benefactor, of the pudgy boy who mysteriously disappeared. A sizable 50 gold reward was being offered for anyone who found the ¡°missing¡± boy. He knew that if he was found, he¡¯d be dragged to the dungeons or killed. But three years had passed, and it seemed he had to take the risk. His arm was infected by grime, and it was a matter of time before he succumbed to the cold, the monsters, or his infection. On the bright side, his once pudgy stomach was now flat, and maybe he wouldn¡¯t be recognizable. It was a gamble that Forte had to take.

    And so he descended the mountain, hiding every time he felt those gleaming eyes on him, sometimes for hours. He ate nuts and berries, and the occasional rabbit he could hunt. He cooked over fires and napped during the day, when the nocturnal predators were asleep, and fled for his life during the night. On one such chase, Forte¡¯s leg was injured. And so he forged a small makeshift cane out of a tough tree branch. With the predators retarding his pace, it took him a month and a few days, but he finally managed to limp to the bottom of the mountain with his makeshift cane. He stepped out of the forest and into the ravaged village.

 Chapter 2: Dinner for two

    Forte stepped into the deserted Daon village and looked for anything he could salvage. He grimaced, stepping past corpses of soldiers bearing the emblem of Rottheim Kingdom, armor and torsos ripped apart. He counted three intact bodies and five torn apart. Eight bodies total¡ªthe standard eight man squad of Rottheim. Judging by their light armor, this must have been a scouting squad. The soldiers looked as if they were fleeing before being chased down by some animal. The less fortunate soldiers had their guts torn apart and their organs eaten.

    His mind was racing. Judging by the beast¡¯s eating pattern, it must have been medium sized. A fully grown tyrant lizardwould not have been such a picky eater, and there would be few traces of the soldiers left. Few lived through a tyrantattack to tell the tale, and Forte had to count his blessings that this was not the work of such a monstrosity. A shiver went down Forte¡¯s spine.

    Fortunately the corpses were not fresh, and whatever beast did this must have moved on. There were no villagers in sight. The sickly boy patted down the soldiers for anything valuable, and to his surprise, found a large amount of coins and some medicines in the knapsacks the soldiers were wearing. Two hundred silvers. Forte smirked.

    One of the dead soldiers, a burly man with silver emblazed emblem on his chest, was still clutching his one-handed sword. Forte used both his arms to hoist up the sword and held it up for examination.

    A longsword! It was a battle-worn iron longsword, with an intricate white iron cross decorating the hilt. Forte placed the sword down and went back to the dead soldier. He removed the scabbard from the soldier¡¯s waist, fastening the adult sized belt around his back. He then picked up and dusted off the longsword, sliding it into his newly equipped scabbard. The boy would use the sword as a two handed weapon.

    And how could he forget the medicine! He quickly uncapped the concoction and poured the medicine onto his mangled left forearm, the grisly memento of the night with the wolves. Forte howled as the medicine sizzled on the wolf bite wound. Pain seared down his entire left arm.

    Forte froze as his ears picked up the sound of movement.

    The howl had attracted attention.

    He dashed to the nearest shed and peered out the window. It was a wild boar, around three feet tall. The boar¡¯s head moved from side to side as it surveyed the area. Forte¡¯s fear vanished from his face, and a slight grin appeared.

    The boy pulled out a few pine nuts he had been saving. Gently opening the door, he scattered the nuts on the floor and whistled at the boar. The beast lurched his head to the side, as its attention turned to the pine nuts on the ground. It sniffed carefully, and then approached. Forte drew his sword, holding it over his head, as the boar¡¯s sniffing grew louder.

    The sniffing stopped. Forte held his hands in the air, muscles shaking from a mixture of fatigue and adrenaline. Then the boar¡¯s head approached, as it greedily snapped up a pine nut. Forte swung down with the flat of his blade, leaving no room for the boar to react as its skull was fractured from the impact, and blood flowed from the dent on its cranium.

    The boar collapsed squealing, struggling drunkenly to get back on its feet. Forte abandoned the sword and wrestled with the pig, striking its head repeatedly as the pig flailed around. Eventually, it was still.

    Forte let out a small laugh as he pumped his hands in the air, victorious. He spent the next hour skinning the wild hog, and preparing a fire outside the shed. The afternoon skies dimmed.

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    Using his new sword to sharpen his makeshift cane, Forte made a spit for the boar. He propped up the boar over the fire, and let it cook. The smooth aroma of melted fat filled the air as Forte eagerly cut himself a piece. Having subsisted on a diet of mostly fruits and nuts for the last few years, the spit roasted wild boar meat was heavenly.

    Forte enjoyed the delicious meat, as he ate his fill and then some. Finally, the boy plopped himself down next to the shed and burped, content. He closed his eyes briefly as he lay there satisfied. But something had caught his attention.

    Two gleaming eyes emerged ahead of him, its body cloaked by the dusk light. A lone wolf. A large, male, lone wolf, with dark blue matted hair and an imposing demeanor. This was dangerous. Forte jumped to his feet and drew his sword. The wolf did not advance. Forte stared at the wolf, who did not move. A minute passed. And then another minute.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Forte grumbled. He walked over to the spit, and cut off a boar leg. He tossed it over to the wolf. After deliberating for a few seconds, the wolf strode over and picked the morsel up, and then backed away a few feet. It continued staring at Forte.

    ¡®Maybe it will leave me alone if I give it another piece¡¯ he thought, as he walked over and sliced another leg off. As he tossed it, the large wolf came forward and snapped up the piece. It backed away, and continued staring at Forte.

    ¡°I¡¯m not giving you any more,¡± Forte shouted, waving his sword. ¡°You¡¯ll get it over my dead body!¡±

    Forte held his ground. He analyzed the situation. If the wolf were to attack, he would have the range advantage with his longsword. He¡¯d have one moment, one slash to cripple the wolf before it closed into killing range.

    But the wolf turned and left, with the two boar legs in its mouth. Forte sighed, and started packing up the meat. He was going to find somewhere safer to go.

    Five minutes passed. Forte was more than half way done carving the boar meat off the spit like a gyro, and stuffing his spare knapsack.

    The wolf had returned. Forte wordlessly brandished his sword, bracing for the inevitable. But what happened next astonished him. The wolf had brought a rock, and was pushing it towards the boy. Rolling it on the ground with its snout.

    The wolf was three meters away now, still rolling the damn thing. Forte held his stance, as his hands began shaking. He thought the wolf was large¡ªhe was wrong. It was massive. The wolf was five-foot on all fours, and continued to approach. Forte breathed deeply, readying himself for the one slash, the one opportunity he had. Fire burned in his eyes as he concentrated.

    And then it stopped. The wolf turned its eyes onto Forte, then bowed its head deeply, presenting the rock to Forte.

    And just like that, the wolf turned around and left. It paced away, slowly picking up speed until it was in full sprint. Forte watched as the wolf disappeared into the moonlit shadows.

    He must have been hallucinating. Maybe it was the infection, poisoning his mind. Or maybe it was the medicine he poured on his arm earlier, seeping into his bloodstream. Forte rubbed his eyes as he walked over to the rock.

    But it was not a rock. Forte immediately recognized the swirls of discoloration patterning the rock. He had seen that pattern once, in the illustrations of a children¡¯s storybook that he read a long, long time ago.

    In front of Forte, laying innocuously on the ground, was an egg.

    A dragon egg.

 Chapter 3: Monsters

    Three thousand years ago, terrifying monsters ruled the lands and seas of the continent of Varia. In the wilderness, there was the Tyrant Lizard. A towering massive lizard standing on two muscular hind legs, its powerful jaw could crush through even the heaviest armor of its prey. A fully grown Tyrantcould tear a slog into pieces with the force of its bite alone. And with its unparalleled hunting ability, came a voracious appetite. These nightmare inducing carnivores were also highly territorial and brash by nature.

    The Basilisk. A monstrous serpent. It dwelled in mountains and caverns, preferring solitude. The beast preferred to lure its prey into its domain, and then strike when the prey least expected it. The serpent tended to be more shrewd and calculating than the aggressive Tyrant Lizard.

    The Wyvern. Wingless, two legged, bat-like creatures. Wyverns stalked the lands and fed on carcasses left behind by other carnivores. Occasionally, it would scare off other scavengers off fresh kills and steal their prey.

    And then there were Raptors. On average six feet tall, these pack hunters were highly vicious and intelligent. They were the most feared creatures lurking in the wild, maybe even more so than the Tyrant. For what raptors lacked in size, they made up for in their pack hunting and tendency to pick bones clean. Their diet consisted of mainly small mammals, critters, scavenging, and¡­. humans. More than any of the other beasts, raptors seemed to particularly like the taste of humans. There have been frequent tales of small children going missing. Sometimes even a grown man. They would be found days later, clothes torn and bones picked to pieces.

    But the great beasts of the land all could not stand one thing.

    Fire.

    And it was with the discovery of fire, two thousand years ago that humanity could finally emerge from a lifestyle of scavenging and hiding. They pushed back the great beasts all the way into the deep wilderness, so called areas beyond human control due to constant stormy torrents of wind, thunder, and heavy rainfall, blotting out any fires.

    And then there were the dragons. A more aristocraticcousin of the fearsome Tyrant Lizard, dragons were a species forged by a close connection with magic. Little is known about dragons, as the last documented sighting was well over a thousand years ago. Recent breakthrough discoveries found ancient Tyrantremains scorched by dragon fire. Perhaps dragons had gone extinct, or deep into hiding, much like present day Basilisks.

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    Dragons had become a myth, a popular subject of ancient tales. Much had been written and documented about dragons before their numbers began to dwindle, until they were never seen again. All sorts of fantastic stories remained, many exaggerated and non factual. Tales of the brown dragons that ruled the western plains, of the red dragons that thrived near active volcanoes, of their fire breathing, their massive wings, and their lost majesty.

    But there had never been mention of a black dragon. Not a single mention. Black dragons were not just considered rare, like the rare green dragons¡ªthey didn¡¯t exist.

    Forte stared at his black dragon egg. Fire rose from the pile of oak wood, licking the air. The misty swirls on the egg were unmistakable--he had seen them many times in children''s books. This was without a doubt a dragon egg, or at least an uncannily accurate representation of one. He sighed, and carefully put the egg back into his knapsack. Thoughts raced through his head.

    What if it hatched?

    What would I do with it?

    Is it valuable?

    Maybe I should sell it.

    I wonder why that wolf had a dragon egg. An egg for a dragon that¡¯s not supposed to exist, no less.

    ¡­

    What would I name it?

    ¡­

    Forte chewed at the thought.

    Vlad, maybe.

    Or Stella if it¡¯s a girl.

    ...

    No, it¡¯s a dragon, not a person.

    A dragon should have a majestic name.

    A name worthy of a dragon.

    My dragon.

    As he thought, he looked at the misty black streaks that lined the egg. A smile slowly crept onto his face.

    When you hatch¡­¡­. I will name you Nightmare.

    A soft chuckle emanated from behind. Forte span around, examining the foliage for any sign of movement, as he slowly stood up. He drew his blade.

    Kekekek¡­

    The soft sound was coming from his knapsack.

 Chapter 4: A Nightmare is born

    And, so, our tale truly begins.

    Warning: Some mature themes from this point on.

    Forte heaved, as he lifted his blade up for the twenty seventh time. Despite his age, he had started to develop an unnatural muscularity due to his new diet¡ªa diet now rich in meats from the rare western plains wildebeests that supplemented the berries and nuts he was accustomed to eating. He had left the Daon village, and was now on the far outskirts of the western plains, on the very outskirts of the human controlled domain of the Rottheim Kingdom.

    Being on the outskirts was dangerous. Actually, dangerous was an understatement. It was raptor territory. Forde shuddered, as he realized that the soldiers in Daon village might have been attacked by raptors.

    Raptors. They were terrible beasts, cunning and vicious. Shaped like an overgrown lizard, raptors had a reputation of stalking human hunters and anyone unfortunate enough to venture too far out away from the western plains, into the wet forested wilderness. Their eyesight was not great, and they relied on scent to track their prey. The scent of human blood was especially alluring to packs of raptors.

    Forte had entered the gentle foliage that marked raptor territory by now. But it was a risk he had to take, for two reasons. A greater danger lurked in the human controlled area in the outskirts. A danger that could be summed up in two words.

    Slave traders. The outskirts were territory, their expertise. It was a lucrative but extraordinarily dangerous trade. They specialized in capturing runaway or abandoned children, which were fairly common in the Kingdom. The boys would be sold for manual labor or as conscripts, while the girls would be sold as kitchen aids, maids, and sex slaves for the wealthy. Back in his childhood, Forte had overheard a rumor that the deviant Count Florien, master of the western plains, kept boys as his sex slaves. The allegations were hushed and shoved under the table by Count Florien¡¯s many connections. Forte¡¯s family had owned many slaves back when he was younger. Unlike the servants, such as Brother Thom and Sister Silvia, slaves were nameless property.

    If Forte was caught, he could be enslaved. Weighing his options, Forte decided that he¡¯d rather get eaten alive than end up as the disgusting Count Florien¡¯s property. And that was why he was on the fringes of raptor territory, training his increasingly heavy body with sword swings, as he kept an eye and an ear open for any uninvited guests.

    Many months had passed since Forte heard any sound from the egg. For now, he lugged it around. It hadn¡¯t so much as squeaked, although it was getting heavier and heavier. Simply carrying the knapsack caused tremendous strain on his body.

    Forte jolted alert as he heard an unmistakable scratching noise.

    A raptor.

    He dashed towards the trees and heaved himself onto the branch. A raptor cautiously peeked its head out of the bushes. The raptor hesitated, as it watched Forte scramble up the tree. Raptors were cautious, and tended to target vulnerable individuals. But the sword slung on Forte¡¯s back was enough to make the raptor hesitate for a moment, and as Forte disappeared into the branches and leaves, the raptor lost interest and left.

    Forte waited on the top of a thick tree branch, swinging his legs. This was not the first time he ran into a raptor. They were usually too cautious to pounce before their friends showed up. Especially since he had a sword¡ªseemed as if the raptors had past run-ins with sword bearers. Plus, this was just the fringe of raptor territory. Hunters and the like frequently passed through this area.

    Forte blinked as he heard voices emanating from the clearing.

    ¡°Are you sure they went this way? This is raptor territory!¡± A thin man whined, wobbling under the weight of his traveling backpack and large mace.

    ¡°Yes I¡¯m sure. And you WILL address me with Sir, or I¡¯ll have you lashed and tied up to that tree over there and ring a dinner bell for the raptors. Eh?¡± the commander of the group sneered.

    ¡°Understood¡­ Sir.¡± The thin man whimpered in a nasally voice.

    As he listened intently, Forte considered his options. These people were definitely slave traders. He didn¡¯t liked slavers. Even worse, these men wore the sigil of the house of Count Florien. Forte recognized it from his early years as nobility. They were dressed rather extravagantly for a band of slave traders. The leader of the group had a gleaming, jewel encrusted sword on his side and other impressive looking accessories. Forte had always had a soft spot for eye catchy swords. A mischievous smile appeared on the boy¡¯s face, as he hopped down from the tree.

    ¡°AH!¡± Forte shouted, as he landed on the ground. He put on a sad, pouting expression as he looked up at the troupe of slavers.

    The commander hand-signaled halt for the seven man group. He turned to the boy. A large, forced smile appeared on the devilish commander¡¯s face.

    Forte began sniffling and tearing up. The tears were real¡ªhis whole back side stung from the impact to the ground. ¡°Sir, you have to help me! I went to get some firewood and promised Tammie and Resa that I¡¯d be back in an hour¡­ but then a raptor showed up. I was so scared. Tammie is only six! I need to get back to them. Can you please help me, sir?¡± Forte rambled, putting on an impressive display of sniffling and crying.

    ¡°Why of course, we¡¯d be glad to help. This uncle will help you find your friends again. Now where are they?¡± The commander questioned, eyes lit with greed.

    A six year old girl, and another little boy and girl? They would make a fortune. Little virgin girls were ludicrously expensive and in high demand and could be sold to many potential buyers once they got back to the city, and the sobbing mess of a boy would make his boss Count Florien very happy. The commander shuddered as he thought of the Count¡ªhe never liked the old man, and his brand of perversion was unsavory to say the least.

    ¡°Thank you so much, uncle! When I get back I¡¯ll ask Resa to cook all of you a nice meal.¡± Forte said, as he got on his feet and started walking deeper into the forest. ¡°It¡¯s a few minutes from here.¡±

    ¡°You heard the boy, let¡¯s move out.¡± The commander ordered.

    The thin man grumbled as he struggled to stay balanced. He whispered to the commander, ¡°Are you sure we should be going any further, sir? You heard the boy, there¡¯s a raptor around here!¡±

    The commander whispered back to the man, ¡°Listen, idiot. This kid is a runaway. If we get the kid¡¯s two little girlfriends, we¡¯ll be rich. Do you want to be rich? If he doesn¡¯t know where he¡¯s going, we can just bag him and get out of here. It¡¯s a win-win. And if three kids that can¡¯t even fight can deal one damn raptor, we sure as hell can as well. Now shut up before I slice off your tongue.¡±

    The thin man nodded fervently.

    Although Forte couldn¡¯t hear what they were talking about, his hair stood on end as they whispered to each other. And then he remembered the ruby encrusted sword on the commander. If only it were his. They reached a crag next to a river, and Forte stopped.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°This is the place. Let me get Tammie and Resa.¡± Forte shouted suddenly as he dashed into the woods.

    The commander tried to grab him, but the boy had taken them by surprise. He scowled, but decided to wait for a few minutes. The boy seemed gullible enough. And besides, nobody goes against the Count¡¯s wishes and lived to tell the tale, he thought.

    Immediately after Forte could no longer be seen by the seven men, he circled around to their flank. Forte glanced at the commander¡¯s ruby blade briefly, eyes gleaming greedily. If he could kill all seven of them by himself, he would. Alas, that was not the case. He¡¯d need some outside help. Forte drew his iron two-hand sword, and crept closer to the thin man. The thin man was a whining idiot¨Cwhich was perfect. He waited for a minute, until a gust of wind drew the attention of the slave crew. Forte leapt out, grasping his iron sword in both hands, and slashed the thin man¡¯s legs.

    ¡°Eiiiiiii!¡± the thin man let out an unearthly shriek, as Forte¡¯s iron blade cut through the man¡¯s right calf to the bone. A torrent of blood began bursting from the man¡¯s wound as Forte hastily sheathed his sword and ran to a tree.

    ¡°It hurts! Aiiiiiiii! Help! Somebody do something!¡± the thin man screeched at the top of his lungs.

    The commander jerked his head at his comrade¡¯s unnerving shriek, eyes darting between the thin man on the ground clutching his leg and Forte climbing up a tree. ¡°Kill him!¡± he thundered, and the remaining five slavers ran towards Forte. But Forte was much smaller and nimbler, and gained elevation. He sat himself on a thick tree branch and drew his iron two-hand sword.

    One of the burly slavers began climbing the tree, making a few feet of progress off the ground before Forte swung down with his iron two handed sword at the man¡¯s arms, digging into muscle and causing the man to let go and fall to the ground with a large thud. The burly man was knocked out by the concussive blow to the back of his head, and he lay unconscious with blood dripping from his arms.

    Meanwhile, the thin man continued to scream. Blood covered his legs and seeped through the wound Forte gave him just moments ago. The commander was trying to gag the thin man, to silence him.

    The remaining four men stared at the boy dangling his legs on the tree branch, waving his oversized iron sword through the air casually. He was smiling at them. Smiling! Then he stopped. A faint scritch-scratching noise had appeared alongside the wailing cry of the thin man and the grumbling commander trying to silence him.

    Raptors.

    ¡°Hehe¡­hahahahaha,¡± the boy began laughing uncontrollably.

    Kekekeke¡­.A faint chuckle came from the boy¡¯s knapsack.

    Four adult raptors emerged from the foliage. At approximately six feet tall, with a long tail and Jurassic teeth, the raptors were an intimidating sight. The commander took one look and ditched the thin man, running as fast as he could in the direction they came from. Forte grimaced as he saw his precious prize get away.

    The remaining four men drew their maces and swords. They had nowhere to run. The raptors circled the men cautiously.

    ¡°Hahahahahaha.¡± Forte, still taunting from the tree branches, decided it was time to play a game. He lifted his sword, and then threw it down like a bolt of lightning at the group of slavers, with an athleticism unlike that of an eleven year old boy. It pierced the back of one slaver¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Ah!¡± the slaver yelped, before hitting the ground down lifelessly.

    The raptors pounced, sensing weakness. One of the large broad-shouldered slavers slammed his mace into the side of a charging raptor¡¯s head, sending the giant lizard to the ground with a deadly concussive blow. The other two sword wielding slavers were not as lucky, and were immediately overwhelmed and on the ground being gnawedat by the raptors. One was already dead, while the other squirmed futilely. The thin man screamed as he watched his comrades.

    The broad-shouldered slaver walked over to his comrades and swung at the three remaining raptors. Two of them looked up from their meal and tackled him to the ground, ripping away at his arms and tearing out his throat. The surviving sword wielding slaver on the ground managed to overwhelm and pierce the raptor attacking him in the stomach, right before having his throat torn out.

    The thin man was crawling away with his arms throughout, crying. He had lost too much blood, and no longer had strength to move. The remaining three raptors headed over to the thin man, flipping him over like a turtle as the man scrambled and shrieked.

    Forte was content spectating the carnage and taunting the dying men. Suddenly, he felt his knapsack move. He put it on his lap and opened it.

    A shriek from the thin man filled the air.

    The egg shook violently.

    Ripping noises stopped the thin man¡¯s shrieks. He was killed by the raptors.

    The egg shattered. From within, poked out the head of a baby black dragon, with deep goldeneyes. Eyes that sent a shiver down Forte¡¯s back. The dragon had a regal air of sophistication to it. With deep set eyes, two folded wings, a stout torso and strong jaw, its appearance was distinctly masculine. Handsome, almost.

    It stared at Forte, who smiled back softly.

    ¡°Nightmare,¡± the boy whispered, as he looked back at the raptors. Three remained from the carnage. One was gravely wounded by a sword thrust through his chest. Six slaver corpses lay on the ground, with their stomachs and throats ripped out and nutritious organs eaten.

    The baby black dragon crawled out of his shell casing, and onto Forte¡¯s shoulder. It nuzzled Forte¡¯s cheek, rubbing affectionately. Suddenly, it raised its head and puffed, leaving a trail of smoke and causing Forte to cough. The black dragon raised its head again, while Forte covered his nose. It inhaled, and then puffed out into the air in front of them. This time, fire came out. Forte gasped. The air in front seared to a ridiculous temperature.

    The fire was black.

    The dragon breathed black fire. Forte had never heard of such a thing, in all his stories and books. First a black dragon that doesn¡¯t exist, and now black fire?

    Forte waited for the raptors to leave, and then climbed down from the tree. He picked up and wiped the blood off his iron long sword. He looted the dead bodies, finding the following: seventy silverpieces, a tattered map of the area, the slavers¡¯ weekly schedule, and a whole arsenal of weapons. Unfortunately he had no real need for any more weapons, as his iron sword was of the highest quality. Forte regretting allowing the commander to escape.

    The baby black dragon waddled around the bloody battlefield, curiously poking at the slaver corpses. It nibbled at the corpses, then lurched in disgust. Forte sighed in relief,grateful that it did not like the taste of humans.

 Chapter 5: Bandits on the Western Plains

    Forte and his dragon, Nightmare, thrived in the western plains. Using the slaver¡¯s schedule and map of the area, the two vagabonds constantly intercepted common slaving trails. Bit by bit, they amassed a small fortune by stealing from the slavers. Eventually, the slavers began changing their routes and travelling in larger groups, making it harder for the duo.

    For food, they hunted increasingly large prey. Starting with rabbits and kams (a small mammal resembling a deer), they moved on to boars, bears, and even the venerable slogs. The black dragon loved meat of any kind, especially roasted slog meat, and refused to eat anything else. Whenever Forte needed to cook over a fire, Nightmare would ignite the firewood using his signature black flames.

    Nightmare was far more intelligent than Forte had first realized. The black dragon understood his language, despite not being able to respond in kind. It had a brash temperament, constantly picking fights with bigger animals it had no business picking fights with, and displayed a tendency for sadistic behavior much like Forte¡¯s own. Forte had read that dragons were a proud and violent species, but he did not expect even a baby dragon to exhibit such conduct.

    In fact, Forte theorized that this particular dragon reveled when others were afraid. No wonder the dragon chose to hatch right when a band of raptors were tearing apart a slaver. And no wonder it had chosen him as its master. Forte no longer felt fear, and the dragon sensed that. Baby dragon Nightmare had grown significantly in the last few weeks. It was now a foot tall. It could still fit in the knapsack, but just barely.

    Despite all the fascination Forte had for his dragon, one thing in particular bothered him. The dragon could fly. It glided around gracefully, and when the weather turned stormy it would get pushed to and fro by the heavy winds. However, Forte never saw the dragon flap its wings and take off. So he paid attention, and was shocked. The dragon levitated. It was a wobbly affair, but it was definitely levitating to gain elevation. Then it would spread its wings and glide around. How could that be?

    ¡°Hum,¡± Forte sneered.

    Magic.

    That was the only plausible conclusion. Magic was a rare art among humans, and obeyed one fundamental law, known as the First Principle of Magic. It takes the same amount of physical exertion to raise a boulder by magic, as it would by hand. This means that certain actions, such as putting out a fire, magic excels in due to low amounts of physical exertion and energy required. However, mages could not expect to lift a tree, or level a mountain, with magic. The energy exerted would kill the mage before the task was completed.

    Furthermore, most human mages were scholarly and weak in constitution, amplifying the limitations of physical exertion. A theoretically strong bodied mage could be expected to push a boulder with sheer magic, a feat impossible for the common weak mage. As it stood, mages were combat inefficient and primarily served a supporting role in the Rottheim royal army.

    It seemed the baby black dragon was similarly limited to its weak infant form. Levitation caused severe fatigue in the dragon, and even fire breathing was a challenge.

    The black flames were another inexplicable mystery. Normal flames required ignition and then became self sufficient, using the oxygen in the air as fuel to keep the flame alive. Black flames not only burned the air, but also drew energy from the dragon as well. Even more curiously, heavy rainfall that would destroy any normal campfire did not perturb the black flames.

    Black flames ended only when Nightmare willed them to end, or when he was physically exhausted.

    Forte, sitting on his favorite tree vantage point on the edge of raptor territory, spotted a caravan in the distance. It was a bold adventurer¡¯s caravan. An emblazed Rottheim Hunter¡¯s Guild flag hung above the caravan, signalling that a big game hunter was on board. A single big game hunter and his entourage. While normal game hunters seldom strayed above A grade beasts, namely slogs, big game hunters ventured into the wet forested wilderness, home of S grade beasts such as raptors, wyverns, or even the S+ Tyrant Lizard. S grade meat was incredibly expensive and rare, due to the risk involved in securing the meat, as well as the strong market demand for S grade meat.

    The big game hunter certification test is incredibly difficult to pass. The limitations were simple¡ªventure into the wet wilderness, kill an S grade beast, alone, and bring back proof to pass. In the wet wilderness, fires were hard to maintain and could not deter beasts for long. Even then, killing the beast was only half the challenge. Making it back to the Kingdom with a bloody raptor head was not easy, as it attracted predators of all kinds. The success rate last year was an all time low, at just below 1%. Nine out of ten test takers would die during the test. Most of the successful test takers ventured into the shallow wilderness and snagged themselves a raptor kill. Only a handful passed the test by killing a wyvern. No one had ever killed a tyrantlizard alone.

    And that was why big game hunters were dangerous opponents and should be avoided at any cost, Forte noted. He watched the caravan of a dozen men, proudly displaying the red emblazed Hunter¡¯s Guild flag, trail across the dry western plains and into the wet forest.

    A dust cloud gathered in the distance. Forte squinted his eyes. It was another caravan. This time a merchant¡¯s caravan. He grinned. Merchants travelled unmolested on the western plains by slavers and the like, since they were protected under the Rottheim Merchant¡¯s Guild. Since the Merchant¡¯s Guild was a primary client of slave traders, it would be terrible for business if they attacked merchant caravans. Merchant¡¯s immunity was the fancy term.

    And immune they were, to most forms of bandits and slave traders, which all relied on the Merchant¡¯s Guild to sell their ill gotten goods. But they weren¡¯t immune to Forte.

    The boy observed the caravan as it approached. The only passenger was the cloaked merchant. He smiled; this would be an easy hit.

    ¡°Just like always, okay boy?¡± he whispered to Nightmare. The dragon nuzzled against his arm in assent, and then flew off.

    The merchant stopped his horses and he saw what looked like a tiny black reptile fly across the sky and descend into the plains. As a merchant, the sighting of an exotic animal excited his money making senses. The merchant stepped off the caravan, as Forte took the distraction to climb down and board the caravan. He drew his iron two-hand sword.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    On cue, the black reptile took flight again, this time into the forest. The modestly armed merchant would not dare give chase into raptor domain. And so he sighed and boarded back on his caravan, with fleeting dreams of capturing a rare animal. He donned his hood.

    Something pierced his back. The merchant looked down horrified only to see a sword poking out of his chest, grasping at the protrusion for a few moments before spasms and slumping lifelessly. The sword had pierced his heart.

    Forte dragged the body to the edge of the forest and lay it there, and then cleaned his bloodied sword on the merchant¡¯s clothing. Nightmare swooped down and landed on his shoulder. After emptying the dead merchant¡¯s pockets, he headed back to the caravan to check the spoils.

    It was a half-full cargo of assorted goods. Judging from the papers found on the dead merchant¡¯s body, this shipment was meant for the medium sized town of Adith on the western plains, which was closer to the center of the Kingdom than the outskirt village of Daon was.

    A large heap of beast hides lay stacked in the middle of the caravan. It looked like the main shipment. Forte walked in closer and inspected the heap. He looked closely at the fresh hides, and instantly knew what he was looking at.

    ¡°Slog-hide,¡± he whispered.

    Aside from the dominating pile of fresh slog-hide, there were various confections and snacks. Forte found a small chest in the corner of the caravan, filled with silverand parchment.

    Nightmare had uncovered a treasure trove of dried jerky, which he hastily gobbled up. He then tried some cake. To Forte¡¯s surprise, the tiny black dragon seemed to enjoy the cake, puffing smoke out of its snout as it dug in and made a mess.

    Forte found two letters tucked inside the heavy chest. First, a crumpled, faded letter to Count Florien.

    It read: ¡°¡­boy has been raiding our slaving routes. We request permission to¡­. the hounds¡­¡± was all Forte could make out.

    The second letter, inscribed with spidery handwriting, held the seal of the Rottheim Merchant¡¯s Guild.

    It read: ¡°¡­have informed me that a great storm is approaching. I urgently request that we liquidate our inventories in camping goods and other at-risk products that will see their price suffer from stormy weather. Liquidate discreetly. We should preemptively purchase as many slog-hide coats and the like. I have contacted the Grauschild bank; they have assured us that they will cause a ¡®little accident¡¯ ...will greatly hamper slog-hide suppliers and their affiliates for months to come¡­ allows us to corner the market for a month or two until the great storm subsides. We are merely hedging our bets against the storm.¡±

    The infant black dragon had its fill. It waddled to Forte¡¯s legs and curled up around them, like a kitten.

    Forte furrowed his brows, as he reached down and petted his tiny dragon. He vaguely remembered his economics training from his childhood. This was price manipulation of slog-hide, one of the only affordable materials that was all-around water proof. The Merchant¡¯s Guild¡¯s plan was smart¡ªbuy up as many slog-hide products as possible before the populace knew of the upcoming storm, and limit production by targeting slog-hide suppliers.

    Two things still concerned him. First was the scope of this ¡®great storm¡¯ they were discussing. If the Merchant¡¯s Guild expected a weeklong storm, they would make a quick profit by restricting supply of slog-hide products, but they wouldn¡¯t bother to target the suppliers. Targeting the suppliers of slog-hides would only pay off after several weeks to a month, when the raw slog-hides from the western plains were refined and tanned and usable in products. What this meant, was that the Merchant¡¯s Guild expected this storm to last for much longer than a month.

    Nightmare casually puffed a few slivers of smoke from his tiny nose, looking more than satisfied after his cake and beef jerky meal.

    His second major concern was the mention of the Grauschild family. Forte was woefully uninformed about them, but he knew that the Grauschild & Sons was a dynastic banking organization that reeked of old money and connections in high places. They operated in most of the known world, and were situated in many Kingdoms besides Rottheim Kingdom. The fact that they were in this dealing meant this great storm may be larger than he had ever imagined.

    Forte¡¯s mind was racing. Storms were bad news. When storms hit, beasts and predators of all kinds emerge from the wilderness, with the threat of fire gone. Forte imagined that such a storm was probably what brought the raptors into the outskirt Daon Village. The raptors must have killed all the villagers as well as the scouting squad of soldiers sent to investigate, and left after the stormy weather subsided.

    If a storm of such magnitude lasted for more than a month, even the medium ranged towns such as Adith would be in trouble. The King would have to mobilize the royal army to combat the beasts, if they ventured too far into human domain.

    Scratch, scratch.

    Nightmare jerked alert, twitching his ears as it took in the noise. Forte hastily made his way over and peeked out of the caravan. A raptor¡¯s head appeared out of the foliage and grabbed the dead merchant, tugging the body into the forest.

    Forte looked up at the mostly clear sky, as he noted strange cloud formations. He could no longer risk staying in the outskirts. He had to move inland, deep into human domain.

    A great storm was brewing.

 Chapter 6: Rain, Thunder, and a Magic Shop

    A light drizzle coated the arid western plains. Three days had passed since Forte ambushed the Merchant¡¯s Guild caravan headed towards Adith. Dark storm clouds gathered above the western forested wilderness, looming ever closer to the dry western plains that marked the edge of human territory of the Rottheim Kingdom.

    Forte and his dragon were making steady progress by foot eastwards towards the center of the Kingdom. Despite their efforts, the storm was slowly overtaking them. He decided to make a stop at Adith to pick up some supplies before venturing onwards.

    Nightmare, the infant black dragon, was now a foot and a half tall. Its once leathery skin was now growing rigid black armored plates. Despite its size, it was a natural hunter, easily taking down small prey with its tiny but vicious bite.

    Due to the rain and wind, Forte couldn¡¯t get a regular fire going to cook the wild boars, kams, and rabbits the duo caught. He relied on Nightmare¡¯s black flames, flames that flickered on despite the increasingly turbulent winds and rain. While a normal expedition force would have to rely on preserved meats and foods given the adverse weather conditions, the duo could enjoy freshly cooked meat.

    Forte observed ominous signs that raptors had extended their territory in response to the great approaching storm. The cunning reptiles started to poke out of their domain, which was previously limited by the forest and wilderness, venturing into the now damp western flatlands.

    Nightmare swooped down to Forte and nudged his cheek. The foot and a half long dragon had learned how to flap its wings! It could fly for extended periods of time without the aid of magic now. A heavy gust blew the dragon into the sky. Nightmare swooped down again and began nudging Forte more frantically, and pointing at something in the distance.

    The boy had sharp eyesight, and immediately spotted what his dragon had seen. A squad of game hunters were tracking a herd of slog in the distance. Forte squinted his eyes as he concentrated on the distant figures.

    The sky darkened. Rainfall steadily increased, limiting the boy¡¯s vision. A swirling gust of wind swept rain across the plains, flattening grass as it brushed by.

    Rumble.

    Thunder in the distance. The rain turned into a downpour. Water trickled down Forte¡¯s face. The boy draped his coat over his head¡ªa torrent of rain pounded down on the coat as he crept forwards. Nightmare ducked in under the coat.

    The stampeding gargantuan slogs were having trouble keeping their footing as they dashed about in the tumultuous weather. An entourage of well armored game hunters chased after the slogs. Forte stooped lower and blended in with the tall grass, as he approached the hunters.

    Rumble.

    ¡°Get the buck! The spotted one!¡± shouted a man, drenched by the rain, dressed in chain mail and a soaking wet cloak with the sigil of the Hunter¡¯s Guild. A heavy axe laid flat on his back.

    Two men in leather armor charged forwards and slashed down with their swords at a hefty slog. Steel met the tough flesh of the slog¡¯s flank.

    ¡°Urrrrrrrrrhhh¡± the slog groaned in pain, as it attempted to run off but slipped on the wet ground.

    Boom!

    Deafening thunder shook the sky above. More men surrounded the slog, slashing at the giant fat beast with their swords. The slog began staggering from its wounds as it groaned. After a few more cuts, the slog toppled over and fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

    ¡°Bring ¡®im in!¡± the man in chainmail shouted, brandishing his axe. He walked over to the rest of them men, who were chatting loudly with excitement as they worked on the slog.

    ¡°He¡¯s a big ¡®un!¡±

    ¡°Fine slog if I¡¯ve ever seen one eh?¡±

    ¡°Ha. Drinks on me tonight in Adith!¡±

    ¡°Drinks? Ha! I¡¯ll hold you to your word for a bottle of brandy.¡±

    The men hoisted up the massive slog and marched over to their caravan. With effort, the hunters heaved the slog into the caravan and boarded. They were leaving.

    Forte decided to tail the slow moving caravan, weighed down by its precious cargo, since they were headed in the same direction anyway¡ªthe town of Adith. They would reach the town in roughly three hours, and it would save him some map work. Nightmare padded along, staying dry underneath the coat.

    There was a fast moving caravan approaching, from behind. Forte crouched lower and waited. An unmarked caravan¡ªthat was definitely something he hadn¡¯t seen before. Strange, he thought. After a few minutes, the caravan passed by Forte. He reasoned that it was also headed for Adith, albeit in a rush.

    Forte ran forwards, eager to catch back up with the game hunter caravan. He didn¡¯t wish to consult his maps in such terrible weather.

    As they proceeded, Nightmare¡¯s ears perked up. The distant din of clashing swords could be heard from ahead. Forte rushed closer to assess the situation.

    It looked as if the unmarked caravan from earlier had collided with the game hunter¡¯s caravan, which had been tipped over onto its side. A contingent of ten men armed with swords, decorated shields, and heavy armor was fighting with the ragtag group of six game hunters Forte had observed from before.

    The fighting was fierce. The axe wielding leader of the game hunters swung with tremendous force and broke through the shield of a man from the unmarked caravan. His second blow glanced off the man¡¯s heavy armor, leaving a bloody dent.

    After a few minutes of clashing, it was clear that the game hunter caravan was outmatched and outclassed. The six men were strong and capable of holding their own, but they were outnumbered ten-to-six and ill equipped to fight other humans. Their leather armor fared poorly against the swords, shields and heavy armor of the ten men from the unmarked caravan.

    Realization dawned on Forte¡¯s face. The armor the men from the unmarked caravan wore was expensive and rare in the Rottheim Kingdom. They were no doubt mercenaries or affiliates of the powerful Grauschild & Sons Merchant Bank¡­ meaning this ambush must be the ¡®little accident¡¯ mentioned in the letter¡ªinterception and slaughter of slog suppliers. Forte hardly suspected the Grauschilds to move so quickly and decisively target slog game hunters, who were all experienced fighters.

    Rumble.

    Unrelenting rainfall and wind accompanied the thunderous weather.

    With a flash of a sword, a man struck aside the axe of the leader of the game hunter caravan, and thrust forwards¡ªslightly piercing the leader¡¯s chainmail. As the leader gasped for air, the man raised his sword again and swung down, this time digging deep into the leader¡¯s shoulder. He reeled from the damage, and toppled to the ground.

    Nightmare floated a few feet in the air, levitating carefully under the shelter of Forte¡¯s coat, and watched the carnage with keen eyes. The dragon appeared amused.

    The desperate game hunter crew hacked and slashed at their well armored enemies, and blow after blow glanced off the armor. Some heavy blows managed to land, damaging through the decorative plate armor as two men from the unmasked caravan crumpled to the ground from the force of the blows, lifeless.

    Forte watched as the game hunters were overwhelmed and struck down one by one. At the end of the fighting, all six men of the game hunter caravan were killed. The unmarked caravan suffered three casualties.

    The boy and his dragon continued to creep forward under the cover of his coat.

    ¡°Good job lads.¡±

    ¡°Grisly work.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s burn this thing!¡± one of the armored man shouted, pointing at the game hunter caravan.

    The men tried to set the caravan ablaze, but the heavy wind and rain stifled the smoldering flames.

    Rumble.

    Suddenly, a trumpeting roar resonated throughout the fields. A wyvern was charging down the fields from behind, tilting its gnarled head. With every step, the ground shook. Forte immediately ditched his crouched position and began sprinting.

    All of the armored men immediately ditched trying to set fire to the caravan and drew their swords, as the wyvern charged directly at them. It stopped a few feet away from the men, and roared, baring its ugly teeth.

    Rumble.

    Rumble.

    CRASH!

    All hell had broken loose in the sky, and rain came hammering down like never before. Flashes of lightning lit up the sky as bellowing thunder reverberated through the atmosphere.

    The seven plate armored men shouted and raised their swords and shields, rushing at the wyvern. They swung at the wyvern as it bit down and tore off one of the men¡¯s arms, knocking back another man in the process. The men regrouped and retreated momentarily, as the wyvern raised its head and let loose a chilling roar.

    Forte picked up his pace, running past the battle without being noticed by either party as Nightmare glided haphazardly alongside him. He dared not look back, and continued running until the noises of sword clings and roars behind him became inaudible.

    He continued running for what seemed like hours, stopping only to catch his breath, until the town of Adith came into sight. It seemed like he had finally outrun the storm. The weather was clear, and the ground was dry.

    Forte breathed a sigh of relief as he neared the town. He should be safe here, since monsters rarely got as far as the mid-ranged checkpoint towns such as Adith. Any stray monsters were dealt with by Adith¡¯s modest patrol of guards.

    The guards signaled at him.

    ¡°Halt! Have you any goods for sale to declare? The town of Adith takes a 10% tax on any sales made by nonresidents of Adith within this city, and there will be an additional surcharge if you require the services of the Merchant¡¯s Guild.¡±

    ¡°Cut him a break, will you? He¡¯s just a boy. You can come through. Just don¡¯t cause any trouble alright? ¡± a second guard stated as he winked at Forte.

    The first guard grumbled and let him through.

    ¡°Thank you, sirs!¡± Forte chimed as he walked by, with Nightmare perched on his shoulder, cooing.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.¡°Wait a moment! What is that animal you have with you? If it is dangerous you will need to check it in with Adith¡¯s Beast control. If it causes trouble and it¡¯s not registered, then you¡¯re liable. And frankly, I haven¡¯t seen any beast like that before,¡± the first guard said.

    ¡°Oh, this is Nightmare. I¡¯m not sure what kinda animal he is, but my uncle got him for me for my birthday. He¡¯s really really sweet, and let me tell you a secret,¡± Forte happily said as he leaned in a little and lowered his voice, ¡°actually, I think he¡¯s a black dragon!¡±

    The first guard sneered, ¡°Black dragon, eh? What an imagination. Kids these days¡­¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. I think I¡¯ve seen one of those¡­ it¡¯s called a Zera or sumthin. Cute little things those are. Now let the boy through¡­¡± the second guard yawned.

    Kekek.

    Nightmare softly chuckled and puffed out some smoke as Forte passed the guards and walked into town.

    Adith was a mid sized town¡ªit couldn¡¯t hold a candle to the massive cities near the center of Rottheim Kingdom, but it was much larger than the typical outskirt town.

    Forte walked down the paved streets and marveled at all the different kinds of shops lining the streets. There were various armories, restaurants, magic shops, inns, banks, guilds, potion shops, sex shops, and small stores of any kind. In the middle of the town was a slave market which was open twice a week.

    The boy would do some shopping before he lodged at an inn for the night. It had been far too long since he slept with a real roof over his head.

    He walked into an armory. Various types of weapons and armor were on display in the tidy shop. The shopkeeper was chatting with a man by the counter. The man was showing the shopkeeper his ruby encrusted sword, as the shopkeeper traced the blade and took measurements. Nightmare, still perched on Forte¡¯s right shoulder, let out a low growl and bared his teeth.

    Forte froze. He recognized that sword, and he recognized the man at the counter, who was absorbed in idle chat with the shopkeeper. It was the leader of the slavers he had encountered all the way in the outskirts of the western plains. The leader who got away as his men were eaten by raptors.

    The boy hastily turned around and left the shop. He would have to be careful in this town. The lead slaver he just avoided worked for Count Florien, and the western plains were Count Florien¡¯s home territory. That sickening noble with a penchant for boy slaves. Forte resolved that if he ever encountered the man, he''d torture the man to death. Maybe let Nightmare loose on him. He smiled.

    A strange little magic shop caught Forte¡¯s eye. The boy walked in, and was immediately bombarded by a strong smell of tea. Various potions and oddities lined the walls. The shopkeeper was a wrinkled old man with spectacles, grooming his cat.

    ¡°Welcome! Welcome. Oh dear I haven¡¯t had a visitor in quite a while,¡± the old mage muttered, without looking up from his cat, ¡°Why don¡¯t you let me read your palm, son? I can tell if you will become a famous adventurer, or a knight, or a lord, or maybe even a hunter! Who knows, you might even marry the princess some day. Ha!¡±

    ¡°Thank you sir, but I¡¯m just having a look around,¡± Forte replied. Nightmare cooed.

    The bespectacled man looked up.

    ¡°Oh! My word¡­ a dragon!¡±

    Nightmare puffed out his chest and let loose a wisp of black smoke from his mouth.

    ¡°No sir, it¡¯s a Zera. I got it for my birthday from my u¡ª¡°

    The elderly shopkeeper peered at Forte as he interrupted, ¡°And a BLACK dragon, no less! Come here boy, I have something for you. Come, come!¡±

    The shopkeeper grabbed Forte¡¯s arm and lead him deeper into the tiny shop, dodging under baubles and charms. Forte was about to draw his sword and kill the old man, but Nightmare continued to coo and snooze on his shoulder. Forte relaxed a little. The boy trusted his dragon¡¯s judgment of the shopkeeper¡¯s character.

    In a hushed tone, the shopkeeper chided, ¡°You can¡¯t be too careful around here. There¡¯s bandits everywhere! Why, just yesterday the scheduled Merchant¡¯s Guild caravan didn¡¯t arrive. Didn¡¯t arrive! Those bastards are never late lest it deprive them of a profit.¡±

    ¡°Mister¡ª¡± Forte started.

    Still rambling, the eccentric shopkeeper continued, ¡°The Guild just sent out a convoy to investigate. Those slavers, those¡­ those half witted idiots, wouldn¡¯t dare attack a merchant caravan. I tell you, it¡¯s the work of bandits! Or assassins! Or¡­ maybe even the Grauschild family. They¡¯ve been moving around these days, I tell you. So has the Order of Assassins. Even that old fart Count Florien is getting restless! By the gods, you best be careful these days, boy. You don¡¯t know who you can trust!¡±

    Forte grimaced. Bandit. He and Nightmare were the bandits that raided the merchant caravan. At least they didn¡¯t cross paths with the merchant¡¯s armed convoy on the way to Adith¡­ they wouldn¡¯t have lived.

    The shopkeeper rummaged through a messy pile of assorted parchments, items, bottles, and other miscellaneous items. Finally, he found what he was looking for. It was a iridescent grey sword, with faded runic letters carved into the guard, and a large white sphere embedded in the pommel.

    ¡°Ah. Here,¡± the old man exclaimed, twirling the iridescent grey sword with one hand.

    Nightmare belched a plume of black flames into the air.

    ¡°You won¡¯t be needing that any longer!¡±, the old man shouted, as the he grabbed the grip of Forte¡¯s iron longsword, drew it out of its scabbard, and tossed it away with force in one smooth motion. Forte was startled as the sword pierced the wooden floor from the force of the old shopkeeper¡¯s throw.

    ¡°This sword,¡± the old man lowered his voice as he whispered, ¡°this sword is made from ancient gravitite ore. Old dwarven make. It¡¯s a beauty, and it¡¯s one of a kind¡­ it doesn¡¯t bend, it doesn¡¯t burn, and most importantly, it doesn¡¯t chip no matter what you do to it.¡±

    He handed the iridescent grey sword to Forte. Forte staggered; the sword was much heavier than he expected! And the edges were rounded instead of sharp. The boy realized that this sword was more meant for pummeling foes with great force, than any kind of graceful swordsmanship.

    ¡°This is so heavy!¡± Forte cried, exasperated.

    ¡°Ah, but you see why this sword is so great? It can withstand any force! Any blow! This is a sword made for titans! For giants amongst men. Only the strongest can truly appreciate its grace. I only bestow it to you because you were chosen as master by a dragon¡ªa black dragon, no less! Do you even know how few dragons are left in this world? Some people think that they¡¯re extinct! And to think I would see another one in my lifetime¡­ Tell me boy, what is your dragon¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°His name is Nightmare,¡± Forte hissed. The dragon raised its head proudly and stared at the old shopkeeper. It blew out a steady trickle of black flames.

    ¡°HA! What a name. And so be it. Nightmare. I will remember that name,¡± the old man mumbled with a darkened voice. A solemn expression hung on his face.

    ¡°The dragon chooses its master¡­¡± the old man mumbled.

    Forte¡¯s mind was racing. Gravitite ore was a stuff of myths and legends, and existed only a long, long time ago. He blurted out, ¡°Where did you get this sword? How is that possible, gravitite ore has been gone for more than a thousand years!¡±

    The shopkeeper¡¯s eyes flashed bright as he spoke merrily, ¡°because, I, my dear boy, am not just any shopkeeper. Always remember, boy, appearances are deceiving. Always remember!¡±

    ¡°How much is the sword? I know it¡¯s not much, but I have some silver, and if¡ª¡° Forte stammered as he looked down at the priceless iridescent grey sword.

    ¡°Enough! The sword is yours. You have much potential. Much potential. For both magic and sword. Take the sword! Take it, and do great things. All I ask for you is to return here one day. I will introduce you to the Academy. I will teach you the ways of magic and might. I will make you GREAT,¡± the shopkeeper said.

    With those words, the shopkeeper lead Forte to the entrance of his store, and pushed the boy out the door.

    ¡°Good luck to you, if that is you believe in Lady Luck, which I certainly hope you do not because the greatest folly of all is blind faith, but oh... Boy, you have much potential, so as when we may we meet again, may we meet again, when we meet again, I will introduce you to the Academy! The Academy, that¡¯s right! And you will be my student. And may you weather this Great Storm!¡± the bespectacled old man shouted.

    Forte was sitting on the ground, dazed at the shopkeeper¡¯s longwinded rambling. Clutched in his hands was a priceless ancient sword, perched on his shoulders was a black dragon that should be extinct¡­ and all he could think about was how tired he was.

    ¡°Nightmare¡­¡± the old shopkeeper mumbled, before slamming the front door shut.

    Forte picked himself up and walked down the street. The boy looked up. The sky had darkened. It was nearing night time. Oil lamps lit up the streets. He eventually found a cheap inn, and paid the seventeen silverfee for one night. The boy had amassed nearly two thousand silversfrom his raids on slavers and merchants.

    The room was small but tidy. There was no bed, only a futon on the floor. Forte crept into the futon and closed his eyes, weary. Nightmare snuggled under the covers and sank down. They would shower tomorrow. Tonight, he would sleep. And so he slept, dreaming of monsters and men, of dragons and magic.

    Zzz

    Bong.

    Bong.

    Bong.

    The loud alarm bells of the town woke him up. Nightmare also awoke from his slumber, and peeked around lazily.

    Rumble.

    Thunder in the distance. Rain began falling. A woman shrieked on the streets. Forte rubbed his eyes and walked to his window. The rain had intensified, and pounded away at the window. He couldn¡¯t see anything outside through the pouring rain.

    Scratch, scratch.

    The noise came from the streets.

    The sound of raptors in Adith.

 Chapter 7: Dragon Fire

    Distant screams from panicking civilians were drowned out by deafening claps of thunder and a downpour of rain. Forte glanced down at the streets through his second floor inn window. He could make out the vague outline of something moving. Something distinctly non-human.

    Raptorshad infiltrated the town.

    Forte¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. This was impossible. Since humans learned to control fire, monsters had never gotten so far into human territory. Never! What happened to the guard patrol? Were they caught sleeping or something? What about the King¡¯s army?

    Nightmare hissed at the silhouettes moving beyond the window, as Forte quickly ran to his futon and grabbed his iridescent grey sword and locked his room door, panting. His mind was racing¡­ he needed to form a plan. S tier monsters were no joke, and it was a common occurrence for even the strongest adventurers and hunters to be killed by packs of raptors or a stray wyvern.

    He would need to get out of the inn, first of all. The window was too small to squeeze through, and if he stayed here eventually he¡¯d be trapped indoors with¡ª

    Yells emanated from downstairs. Somehow, raptors had gotten into the inn and were making an uproar. He heard human footsteps coming upstairs. There was no time to plan. He¡¯d follow the rest of the inn guests. Safety in numbers. Forte burst out of his room, sword in hand.

    Big mistake! Those weren¡¯t human footsteps. As Forte threw his door open, two fully grown raptors jerked their heads in attention, staring directly at the shocked boy in the open door. A fat innkeeper¡¯s body lay dead on the ground between the two raptors. The terrifying pair of jaws paced forwards, into the room, as Forte backed away.

    Hissss...

    Nightmare levitated up into the air, flapping his wings as he hissed menacingly at the two enemies. The infant black dragon flashed his murderous eyes at the two lurking raptors.

    ¡°You take the one on the right, I¡¯ll take the left¡­¡± Forte muttered to Nightmare quietly, ¡°LET¡¯S GO! RAHHHHHHHHHH!¡±

    Forte let loose a battle cry and charged forwards, and took a wild swing at the raptor. The ancient gravitite sword slammed into the side of the raptor with a dull thud, bruising but not puncturing any skin due to how the edge of the sword was intentionally dulled by a master dwarven blacksmith. Raptor skin was tough, but the sword he used to have was of decent quality, and could deal some reasonable piercing damage and draw some blood. But this gravitite sword...

    Forte looked dismayed at how little damage his swing had done.What a terrible sword,he thought,I might as well be using a hammer.The raptor quickly shook off the damage and lunged snapping its jaw at Forte. Forte barely sidestepped, and used all his strength to take another wild horizontal swing at the raptor.

    Thud!

    The flat of the blade connected with the raptor¡¯s neck and contorted the beast¡¯s neck at an unnatural angle. Again, the sword could not pierce through.

    A couple feet to the right, Nightmare was dueling with his own adult adversary. The raptor snapped its jaws at the flying black dragon, which darted in and out of range and took small but vicious bites.

    The raptor lunged up and managed to sink its teeth into the infant dragon, but its teeth could not penetrate the black dragon¡¯s armored scales on its back side. Nightmare shook the raptor off and regained elevation.

    Suddenly, as Nightmare swooped in for another bite, the raptor lashed out and caught the dragon¡¯s wings, ripping a tear in the delicate membrane. Nightmare hissed in pain and tanked through the air, before regaining his balance in the air with magic.

    Forte dropped his heavy sword without hesitation and dove in at his own enemy, the winded raptor, pummeling down at the lizard head and large left eye with his fist.

    Bam. Bam. Bam.

    After getting in three fist strikes to the head, the raptor managed to kick off Forte, and struggled to get on its feet. The panting boy grabbed his gravitite sword and hoisted it over his shoulder, hands positioned to swing the sword down.

    The raptor charged at him, as he swung down. The sword missed the raptor¡¯s head and hit the raptor¡¯s leg, and the raptor sank its teeth into Forte¡¯s left shoulder.

    ¡°Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!¡± Forte yelled in pain.

    He curled up both fists and smashed them into the raptor¡¯s two eyes. Raptor blood dripped down from its eyes and snout, as Forte¡¯s shoulder began to seep as well. After a few more hits, the raptor loosened its bite and collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily. Forte mounted the fallen raptor¡¯s neck and pounded down furiously at its head with his right fist as blood spilled from his left shoulder and onto the raptor.

    Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

    On the other side of the room, Nightmare was struggling to maintain airborne with magic alone. Finally, the black dragon fell to the ground, as the raptor approached.

    Ssssssssss

    Nightmare puffed its chest and let loose a stream of black flames, singing the raptor¡¯s head as it tried to come in, causing the raptor to reel. The black flames flicked out of existence after a few seconds. It took a moment for the raptor to recover, but it came back infuriated, biting down on the grounded dragon.

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    Its teeth could not go through the armored plates, but it tried again and again and began to make progress. Green dragon blood flowed down Nightmare¡¯s hide as he struggled vainly. Small puffs of black flames came out of his mouth, but disappeared immediately as he ran out of strength.

    ¡°No!¡± Forte shouted, blood rolling down from his shoulder.

    The boy ditched his raptor and grabbed his gravitate sword.

    Thud!

    With a downwards sweep, the boy connected cleanly with the second raptor¡¯s head, as it dropped Nightmare from its menacing jaws.

    Thud!

    A second blow, sending the raptor to the ground unconscious.

    Thud!

    A third blow. The raptor twitched its body feebly.

    Thud!

    Motionless. Forte picked up his wounded dragon, cradling it in his hands.

    ¡°You¡¯re okay boy. Don¡¯t worry. Breathe, relax¡­¡± he whispered frantically. The little dragon¡¯s chest heaved up and down with tedious breaths.

    Scratch, scratch.

    Forte looked up with his heart pounding. Impossible. A hulking raptor peeked its head into his inn room. It stood at seven feet tall, and was larger than the two they had just killed. Nightmare blinked and started hissing weakly.

    The raptor paced into the room, sniffing the air. The smell of blood permeated throughout the small inn room. Globs of red and green blood stained the futon Forte had been sleeping in just an hour ago.

    The hulking raptor focused its eyes on Forte and his dragon. It sauntered closer, salivating. The wooden floor creaked and groaned with every step. There was no time to react. This was the end.

    A torrent of emotions and fatigue swept through Forte¡¯s mind. Unfair. Simply unfair. He had stood at the mercy of forces beyond his control for too long. And now he was about to die to them.

    He was going to die.

    Going to¡­ die?

    ¡­

    No.

    Not yet.

    Not now.

    A strange sensation tugged at Forte¡¯s mind, beckoning him. He reached for the alien sensation, recoiling at first from its vast power, and began drawing at it.

    Something deep within Forte was welling up. Unrestrained energy of immense magnitude surged and swirled through the boy¡¯s body. A power he had never felt before. Power was churning the very air, causing the walls and floor to vibrate violently. The hulking raptor continued to approach, undaunted. Saliva dripped from its gaping jaw.

    Nightmare stared at Forte, blinking his eyes intelligently. The dragon raised its head slowly and cracked open its jaw, letting out a small wisp of faint black flames.

    Forte¡¯s eyes began glowing with a faint icy blue aura. His body resonated with the tremendous flows of unrestrained mana. He shot out his palm, directing his mana to his dragon¡¯s wisp of black flames. The flames turned into a brilliant white fire.

    BOOM!

    An explosion of white flames shot out and expanded from Nightmare¡¯s jaws, and the room transformed into a fiery hell. A torrent of scorching white fire consumed the hulking raptor in its entirety, and illuminated the room with a white glow of the smoldering corpse. Even as the hefty raptor was completely consumed by fire, the flames continued to grow larger and larger, feeding on the walls, the ceiling, the wooden floor, and the air. Forte felt his magic sap away at his strength, and now he was having a hard time breathing. The boy¡¯s conscience slipped precariously, as sweat and blood dripped from his body.

    With a snap of his jaw, Nightmare ended the maelstrom of thick white fire. Forte collapsed forwards, breathing heavily from the toll of his magic. With his face pressed on the ground, a satisfied smirk appeared on the boy¡¯s face. Nightmare waddled over and nuzzled against the boy¡¯s face.

    Magic.

    ¡­

    Hehehe¡­ hahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

    A manic, whooping laugh rang through the stormy night.

 Chapter 8: Count Florien

    The boy got back on his feet. Blood caked all of his left shoulder and arm. But what was a little blood in the grand scheme of things. He would stand against the world if he had to.

    Forte, the monster slayer. He brawled with an S-class monster and won. How glorious! And blown the other out of existence with arcane arts. MAGIC. Were he alive, the boy imagined that his father would have been proud.

    Never in Forte¡¯s wildest dreams did he ever think he had the innate talent for magic.

    HehehehaHAHAHAHAHA!!

    The boy laughed maniacally, ending with a wild grin on his face. Despite setbacks, it seems like the heavens were on his side¡­ he was destined for greatness. He would become a giant amongst men. An immortal. Death would not stop his ambition; nothing would.

    Forte walked over and stepped on the charred remains of the three raptors, grabbed his money pouch, and walked out of his room. A fat body lay on the ground¡ªthe dead innkeeper. He kicked it aside and walked downstairs, calm as ever. Nightmare, his tiny black dragon, had recovered some of his strength and weakly floated alongside Forte.

    Outside the inn, what was left of the guard patrol fought the raptors. The rain was unrelenting on the desolated streets of Adith. Just as Forte reached the inn¡¯s front door, he began to choke as a muscular tattooed arm wrapped around his head and a foul smelling cloth rag was forced against his mouth.

    Breathing in the heavy fumes, he began to lose consciousness. Nightmare took to his wings and hissed weakly at the mysterious assailant. A familiar, raspy voice spoke from behind him¡­

    ¡°You little shit. You damned little shit! You got my men killed, you nearly had me killed! Normally I send boys of your¡­. circumstance¡­ to the coal mines, where you can peacefully work yourself to death. HA! But you, boy¡­ you little son of a whore¡­ I¡¯m sending you straight to the Count¡­¡­

    The boy thought he glimpsed a ruby encrusted sword on the man¡¯s back, right before slipping out of awareness and into a deep slumber. It was the leader of the slavers he had baited and killed in the forest.

    ------------------------------------

    Two hours later.

    Tlot tlot tlot tlot.

    The sound of hooves. The haze in Forte¡¯s mind was slowly lifting. Judging from the bumps in the road, he must be travelling on a carriage. His hands were tied with thick rope. Strapped to his back was his gravitite sword. If only he could reach it¡­

    Men were yelling at the front of the carriage. He couldn¡¯t concentrate and understand what they were saying. As he struggled against the rope, he slowly began to pass out again.

    ------------------------------------

    An hour later.

    Forte awoke with a thud, as he found himself face-first on the floor of an opulent but demonic looking manor. His hands were still bound.

    ¡­

    A raspy voice spoke from behind him, ¡°this is your gift, Count Florien, sir. Gave me a helluva rough time, this boy.¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Oh, I quite enjoy presents, hee hee!¡± a high pitched, wheezy voice responded. ¡°Excellent work Thaddus, and by my word as a Templar you shall be duly compensated! Now shoo, shoo. Away with you.¡±

    The slaver grunted in his raspy, tired voice, and left the room with his heavy boots clanking against the marble floor. As he left, the Count trained his eyes on the dirty boy sprawled face first on the floor with his hands tied behind him.

    Forte strained his neck and looked up at the Count. He was a short, fat man with greasy curled hair, sitting on an embroidered armchair and fiddling with the many rings on his pudgy fingers. The boy grimaced at the Count¡¯s face, which was grinning madly as his eyes flared with malevolent exuberance.

    ¡°Ho ho, don¡¯t be so shy,¡± the Count flared a fake smile, ¡°What¡¯s your name, boy?¡±

    Forte squared his jaw and did not answer.

    ¡°Now now, don¡¯t be like that. What is your name, boy?¡± the Count inquired.

    Forte struggled against the rope, muscles fluttering as he replied wearily, ¡°My name isn¡¯t your concern.¡±

    The Count¡¯s unerring smile melted away as his features twisted into anger. His large, porous nose bobbed as he sneered at the boy. The Count stood up from his chair and grabbed a bubbling vial of grey liquid. He walked over to Forte and grabbed the boy¡¯s hair, pulling Forte face to face with him.

    Uncapping the vial, a foul smell quickly spread through the manor. Forte looked in horror at the bubbling concoction.

    ¡°Drink.¡± the Count ordered. He yanked Forte¡¯s head up and forced the vial towards the boys mouth, as the liquid dribbled down his closed mouth.

    ¡°DRINK!!!¡± the Count shrieked, forcing the vial at the boy. Grey liquid dripped down Forte¡¯s face and clothes, but his lips did not budge. Eventually, the entire vial was emptied.

    The Count walked back to his armchair and carefully placed the vial on the floor beside him.

    ¡°Do you know why I like¡­ lads¡­. better?¡± the Count whispered, an eerily cheerful smile returning to his face. ¡°It¡¯s because, you see, you¡¯re my toy. I like to play with my toys! But girls break too fast. Boys are a little harder to break. And when my-

    A deafening crash startled the Count. The tinted window above broke open as a tiny black dragon came swooping down to Forte.

    With eyes wide in surprise and terror, the Count grabbed his cane and rushed at the intruder. The infant dragon opened its mouth and let loose a torrent of black fire, singing the Count¡¯s clothes. A terrible shriek erupted from the Count¡¯s mouth, and guards flooded into the room.

    Sinking its jaws into the fabric of Forte¡¯s back, the dragon swiftly snatched the boy up. The gravitite sword on Forte¡¯s back began to resonate and grew hot. Propelled by wing and magic, the dragon darted back out the shattered window, and out of the manor.

    Nightmare flew for half a mile before tumbling into a descent, completely exhausted. The grey gravitite sword had turned white hot, and burned into Forte¡¯s back.

    They could see Sawen in the distance, a western port town.

 Chapter 9: Registering as an F-Class Adventurer

    Such beautiful weathertoday.

    Scarlett, princess of Rottheim Kingdom, glanced down at her elderwood tea. Her hands cupped the warmth of her golden teacup. Bright sunlight shone down onto the table, and the entire hilltop patio glistened elegantly. Mister Bear, a large stuffed animal that the girl was fond of, sat quietly on her lap.

    The princess looked down the street, and noticed a group of rowdy soldiers chatting with civilians. One lanky looking soldier was brandishing a makeshift broom-sword and shouting something at a slightly bewildered but giggling civilian girl.

    Something about the scene felt strangely familiar.

    Wasn¡¯t there that boy? That idiot. What was his name¡­ Frank? Ford?

    ¡°Miss, tea time is over- you don¡¯t want to be late for your arithmetic tutor,¡± her motherly caretaker chimed as she lifted the princess off her seat.

    As she was being carried away, she glanced back down the street. The high spirited soldier was now energetically chatting with the civilian girl as his soldier mates heckled him with playful insults. The princess could distantly hear some crass remarks thrown into the mix. Although she didn¡¯t know what they meant, she instinctively blushed.

    Oh. Forte. His name was Forte.

    ---------------

    Forte rolled on the ground in pain. His iridescent grey gravitite sword burned into his back as he struggled to get the sword strap off. He finally found the buckle, throwing the steaming sword off his back and breathing a sigh of relief.

    Something triggered the sword to act up, causing it to resonate and turn white hot.

    But for the moment, Forte really did not care enough to investigate. He was sprawled on his back, looking straight up into the sky. Clear and blue, without a single cloud in sight.

    Beside him, an exhausted tiny black dragon purred and nuzzled against his shoulder. Forte grinned. Nightmare really bailed him out this time.

    They were not far from the port city of Sawen. First he¡¯d find a bite to eat and a place to stay, and then he¡¯d go look for some work. But before that he¡¯d have to register with the city center to get his F class license, and then he could do miscellaneous work for guilds like the Adventurer¡¯s guild, Merchant¡¯s guild, or Hunter¡¯s guild. The pay won¡¯t be great, but he¡¯d have to make ends meet.

    Although he had lost the rest of his belongings, Forte still had his hidden money purse. He had 362 silverleft. What a travesty¡­ prior to his kidnapping in Adith, he had amassed a fortune of two thousand silver coinsfrom looting merchant caravans, slavers, and soldiers.

    The majority of his wealth was stolen by that slaver leader with the ruby encrusted sword. If he could recall correctly, Count Florien called him Thaddus. Forte vowed to remember that name.

    I¡¯ll make him pay¡­

    Forte grimaced as he calculated his grim financial situation in his head. A square meal would cost him around 3 silver, and lodging at a shoddy place about 10 silversper night.

    So, his daily minimum upkeep expense would run around 20 silvers, and so his money could last him for 18 days. To break even he¡¯d have to earn 20+ silversa day. Ideally he¡¯d also have some spending money for better equipment.

    Forte stood up, and Nightmare perched onto his shoulder. They began the long hike to the city entrance.

    -----------------

    Forte passed into Sawen uneventfully, and was luckily not stopped by the guards. He was immediately overwhelmed by the energy of the bustling city. Street vendors were hollering to advertise their various wares, everything from candies to potions. All sorts of shops lined the dirty streets. It was clear that Sawen was a commercial center much like Adith.

    ¡°Extra, extra, read all about it! Duke Von Hausen found dead! The price of tea tripled overnight! Read all about it!¡±

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.Forte paid the newsboy a silverpiece for a newspaper, and glanced at the headlines.

    Sawen¡¯s mayor Duke Van Hausen was found dead last night in his study with multiple stab wounds¡­ motive is unclear but it appears to be a robbery.

    Rumors are abound that troops are mobilizing in the inner cities¡­ no official word from the King¡­ consider the possibility of an attack from our neighboring Kingdom of Halfast.

    No news about raptors in Adith yet,Forte noted, as he dodged around a group of armored adventurers discussing plans as they headed out of the city. Nightmare purred.

    Forte made his way down the busy main road, squeezing through the crowd before finally arriving at his destination, the city registrar. He got on line for registration. To his dismay, the line wrapped around the block.

    ¡°Hey,¡± said a friendly voice behind him. Forte turned around to see a grinning boy about his age with ash blond hair and a big toothy grin to accompany his sooty clothing.

    ¡°M¡¯ name¡¯s Vaun. You?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m Forte. Nice to meet you. You¡¯re also looking for a job?¡± Forte asked. Nightmare stirred on his shoulder, then continued to snooze.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ well I was working at the coal mine down the road. Been there for a few months. Made decent money, 23 silvera day¡­ but the boys kept getting injured, and the air down there was god awful. Just last week one of the boys lost his finger working the carts. So I got us all together, tried to unionize or summin like that. To ask for a raise. You know, because of the dangers and stuff. ¡±

    ¡°Did you get a raise?¡±

    ¡°Nope. And now I¡¯m in line here just like you. We all got fired, and they brought in a new buncha kids. Just like that. And I heard they get 25 silvera day!¡± Vaun frowned,

    ¡°the thing is¡­ you know how much coal costs? I checked down at the market, a fist sized chunk of coal goes for around 50 silvers. I mined ten times that amount a day! The problem is our boss owns the rights to the mine in this town, so not just anyone can go pokin¡¯ there nose around for some coal¡­.¡±

    ¡°Plus business is bad these days... Everyone¡¯s on edge. If you read the news-¡°

    ¡°I¡¯m not from around here actually,¡± Forte interrupted.

    ¡°Yeah I can tell. You got the attitude of one of those rich kids. Not that that¡¯s a bad thing. Anyways, if you read the news you¡¯d know that our mayor was killed last night. The news says it looked like a robbery but¡­.¡± Vaun leaned in and lowered his voice.

    ¡°¡­I¡¯m pretty sure it was the Assassins. You can¡¯t totally trust the news; they get paid to shut up by the Templar. And Duke Van Hausen was Templar, I¡¯m almost positive.¡±

    Forte¡¯s eyes lit up at the word Templar. Count Florien had mentioned something about being a Templar¡­.

    It was Forte¡¯s turn to register. He filled out his paperwork, lying about his birthplace and last name, and then paid an exorbitant 100 silverregistration fee. And that was it¡ªForte was now a certified F class adventurer.

    He waited for Vaun to finish. Forte liked his company, and the boy seemed trustworthy. He watched in amazement as Vaun chatted with the young clerk and managed to not pay the fee. It looked like they knew each other.

    The duo went down to the job postings.

    ¡°You know what, let¡¯s do this tomorrow. I know a good place to grab a hot meal for cheap around here. Then we can split a room down at the Hog¡¯s Pit Inn for just 8 silver, 4 for each.¡±

    They had a very basic hot meal of beef stew and stale bread for just 2 silver, and then checked in to the Hog¡¯s Pit Inn. Although the rooms were tiny and not well maintained, the mustached innkeeper was warm and friendly. Hot showers cost an extra silver, which Forte gladly paid.

    Vaun skipped the shower for the day, stating that he only bathed three times a week to save money.

    ----------------

    Level 3 Vaun has joined the party! :D

 Chapter 10: A Dangerous Game

    The night was mercifully uneventful, although Forte realized that Vaun tended to snore loudly and toss in his sleep. Nightmare curled beside Forte¡¯s pillow, still exhausted from his extended flight the day before.

    At the break of dawn, Vaun shook Forte awake, and the two made preparations for a day¡¯s work.

    ¡°You know, I never got to ask. What kind of pet is that? And where can I get one?¡± Vaun asked, nodding at the dragon perched on Forte¡¯s right shoulder.

    Leering at the messy haired boy, the tiny dragon snorted dismissively. Forte laughed, ¡°Hahahaha, you wouldn¡¯t believe me even if I told you. It¡¯s a baby dragon.¡±

    Vaun let out a whooping laugh before subsiding into his usual, toothy grin. ¡°Why, you don¡¯t say¡­ dragons are supposed to breath fire. I don¡¯t suppose that pathetic little bugger can breath fire, can it?¡± he joked sarcastically.

    Nightmare¡¯s regal goldeyes narrowed menacingly at the commoner boy mocking him.

    Sssssssssssssssss.

    The tiny black dragon let out a stream of scorching black fire. Vaun¡¯s jaw dropped in disbelief before yelping in pain as the flames scorched his hair. Nightmare ended the flames with a definitive sneer, as Forte chuckled.

    ¡°Believe me now?¡±

    ¡°Yes... yes yes. That little monster can breath fire!¡±

    A more serious expression settled on Forte¡¯s face, as he responded, ¡°Keep this a secret, okay Vaun? Can¡¯t let the whole world know I have an animal from legend as a pet.¡±

    ¡°And,¡± Forte continued with a mocking expression on his face, ¡°if you tell anyone, anything¡ªhell, if you so much as whisper to your own blankets, we might just have to come hunt you down and burn you alive.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. I got it. Not a word,¡± Vaun said as a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, ¡°I¡¯ll let you in on my own little secret later. Now let¡¯s go get some food, I¡¯m starving.¡±

    The two headed downstairs and paid one silverfor a breakfast of porridge, while Nightmare spent the time hunting for rabbits. Once outside, Forte tossed the newsboy a piece of silverand picked up a newspaper.

    A dozen raptors made their way into the checkpoint city of Adith two nights ago. Over thirty casualties were sustained¡­ raptors were eventually cleaned up by a returning big game hunter caravan. New security measure are being implemented for all at-risk cities. Rest assured that Sawen is not classified as at-risk¡­

    Charles Blankwick has been appointed as Sawen¡¯s new mayor¡­

    A drunken man wearing a ragged overcoat stumbled down the street, rambling at the top of his lungs. ¡°heed¡­ Heed my warning! A great storm¡­hic¡­ great storm is approaching¡­¡±

    Hisssssssssssssss¡­.

    Something had alerted Nightmare. Forte span around, and a green glint caught his eye. Three fighters bearing Count Florien¡¯s sigil patrolled down the street, sending shivers down Forte¡¯s spine. As long as he was in the western part of the Kingdom, he¡¯d have to watch his back.

    Forte observed a merchant caravan enter the city. It was stopped by Sawen¡¯s heavily armored guards, whereupon the cloaked merchant filled out paperwork, declared his goods, and paid the city taxes.

    -------------------

    A few job postings were available on the general job bulletin board.

    The Bundle Butchery.Help required processing several slog carcasses. Previous cooking experience required. Reward is 15 silvers.

    Merchant¡¯s Guild.Seeking experienced caravan protection. Mission length is twenty days back and forth to the western plains.

    Seeking B-class or A-class fighters. Must be able to handle raptors. Pay is negotiable. Food and necessities will be provided. Merchant¡¯s immunity will be granted for the duration of the trip.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Merchant¡¯s Guild.Seeking transcribers and document sorters. Must be able to read and write. Three day¡¯s work. Reward is 12 silversper day. Breakfast and lunch will be provided by the guild.

    Hunter¡¯s Guild.Recruiting a healer for a hunter¡¯s caravan heading west in two days. Pay is 25 silversper day, negotiable. Food and necessities will be provided.

    Adventurer¡¯s Guild.Seeking adventurers to cull the recent bear epidemic. D-class fighters and above. Reward is 10 silvers per bear. Basic lodging at the Adventurer¡¯s commons will be provided.

    Forte and Vaun agreed to sign up for the transcriber job, and to consider the bear culling job afterwards.

    The two had very different backgrounds. Forte was a bright child who received education for nobility until seven years old, inheriting his father¡¯s fascination with economics and military studies.

    Vaun was an orphan and did not receive much formal education, although he could manage basic skills.

    Nightmare flew off to hunt and explore the surrounding area as the two headed off to work.

    -------------------

    After filling out the necessary paperwork, the duo arrived at the opulent Merchant¡¯s guild of Sawen. They took off their shoes and walked barefoot on the fine carpeted floor. A hooded merchant greeted them with a drawn, raspy voice.

    ¡°Ah, I¡¯ve been exsssssspecting you. Welcome to the merchant¡¯s exssssssschange post. While you work here, you are exsssssspected to adhere to our guild¡¯s¡­. rules,¡± the merchant explained.

    To Forte¡¯s surprise, the rules were fairly lax for transcribers. When working, they had to wear the merchant¡¯s garb of flowing brown robes and a signature hood. Document confidentiality did not apply since they were handling non-confidential documents.

    The cloaked merchant led them up a long winding stone staircase to separate offices that seemed like they were once jail cells. In each stone walled office was a tiny window, an unassuming wooden table, a quill and ink, and a mountain of documents. Meals would be brought up to them, so they did not have to stop working.

    They were assigned to copy figures from documents regarding mithril ore storages in Sawen to the merchant¡¯s records, which was dry work that nearly put Vaun to sleep.

    But Forte was intrigued, as his eyes darted between the figures on the two documents. From what he understood, mithril was a metal commonly used to forge weapons and armor.

    Judging by the merchant¡¯s records, the King was mobilizing his troops and placed an order for a large quantity of mithril. However, naturally occurring mithril was rare in Rottheim kingdom, and most of the supply had to be imported via ship or caravan.

    Forte gripped the parchment in excitement. He reasoned that the recent stormy weather and influx of monsters in the west was about to destroy land trade routes with other sovereignties.

    So that means the only mithril we¡¯re gonna get is by sea trade routes¡­. And those are coming here, through Port Sawen.

    According to his records, tonight a ship carrying raw mithril would dock in Port Sawen, selling its cargo to the usual local mithril buyers. This happened every month. What those local buyers did not know, was that tomorrow a royal caravan would come to town and purchase as much mithril as possible.

    If his calculations were correct, he could turn a quick profit. Unfortunately, Forte only had 252 silver coinsleft, and he probably couldn¡¯t afford a single piece of mithril. But this opportunity was too good to give up. He¡¯d have to resort to other means.

    He¡¯d have to play a dangerous game.

    Forte and Vaun finished their work, collected their pay, and headed back to the Hog¡¯s Pit Inn. As the night approached, Forte decided to reveal his plan to Vaun.

    -------------------

    Author: Dun dun dunnnnn

 Chapter 11: Late to the party

    ¡°Impossible. That¡¯s insane,¡± Vaun stared at Forte with his mouth gaped open.

    ¡°Never been part of a heist before Vaun?¡± Forte responded with a cheeky grin.

    Nightmare swooped into the room, rabbit in mouth and eager to join the discussion. Forte bit into a stale biscuit with gravy, provided by the Hog¡¯s Pit Inn for supper. Sawdust flavored, but he still managed to down it with some water.

    ¡°Are you sure the King¡¯s envoy will pay us? They could easily walk out of the deal if we overcharge them.¡± said Vaun.

    Forte wolfed down another mouthful of the dry biscuit, wincing as he swallowed. ¡°Money is not an issue for them. They¡¯ll be much more afraid of returning back to King¡¯s Court without any mithril. That¡¯s how nobility works¡ªthe earls will have them lashed for failing a simple task.¡±

    Nightmare played with his delicate rabbit meal, nudging the furry white carcass. Forte chuckled and pet the back of his tiny black dragon, then gulped down half a glass of water. ¡°So we play off that fear.¡± he said, putting down his glass on the table where his sword lay. He wiped his mouth with the inside of his shirt. ¡°The King¡¯s men need mithril, and they won¡¯t care where or how they get it.¡±

    ¡°Ha, you might just be right. Sounds like a plan, capt¡¯n. Anyway, we should get ready to head out.¡± Vaun strapped on his toolkit belt and dagger. Lining his belt were various contraptions and smoke bombs. After making sure the strap was secured, the messy haired lad bolted downstairs to retrieve his coat.

    Forte looked at the sword on the table. Grasping the grip of the gravitite sword, he slowly drew the shimmering grey blade out of its scabbard. Lifting it into the air and slashing down with practiced form, he examined the three cryptic runes inscribed in fine calligraphy on the flat of the blade.

    Some sort of power lingered within the three characters. The mysterious runes echoed of ancient forgings, of dwarven techniques long buried with the demise of the dwarf race eons ago. A time before humanity, when brutish orcs, cunning dwarves, and fair elves shared the lands with great beasts, lizards and dragons.

    Forte traced the iridescent blade, dragging his finger down the entirety of the smooth tempered flat of the blade. A relic of a time long ago.

    Rumble.

    Forte gasped for air as a vast, rumbling presence entered his mind. A deep, thundering voice reverberated through the confines of his head.

    The runes. They read... Strength. Magic. Luck.

    Strength. The strength of a thousand mortals.

    Magic. The wielder of such unlike any seen before in history.

    Luck. The luck of a jackal, able to elude fate.

    Only he who possesses all, may wield the Bl?the.

    ¡°Who is this!¡± Forte shouted, clasping his sweating hands on his temple. An enormous pressure enveloped his conscience, nearly stifling him.

    Rumble.

    I am one of many names. I am the Rhaz, king of dragonkind. I am the Ifri, shadow of dusk. I am Uthar, horror of night. I am the Saluer, last of my kind. Last of the dragons¡­ the proud and noble dragonkind.

    And now¡­ I am Nightmare, the ripper. I am bringer of terror to ALL that stands in my way...

    That is who I am.

    Rumble.

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The pressure dissipated. Forte blinked and looked at the tiny black dragon chowing down on its rabbit meal. A faint glow faded away from the dragon¡¯s eyes.

    Vaun burst through the door, heaving with his coat in hand. ¡°Did you feel that? I swore the whole inn was shaking!¡±

    Forte blinked again. ¡°You must¡¯ve been imagining things.¡±

    ¡°Now let¡¯s get going.¡±

    --------------------------

    Forte and Vaun scaled the rooftops until they reached a vantage point near the docks. There they waited, as Nightmare circled the starry sky. Minutes turned into hours. Vaun shifted impatiently as they observed the moonlit sea. After what seemed like an eternity, a modest shipping vessel bearing the black and red flag of the kingdom of Cadum pulled into sight.

    As Vaun drew a smoke bomb, Forte motioned Vaun to hold off. ¡°Easy. Let¡¯s not turn this heist into a diplomatic injury.¡±

    Vaun chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re right. Th¡¯ last thing Rottheim needs is a war with Cadum.¡±

    Nightmare swooped down and nudged Forte, pointing at a rooftop near them. The boy squinted, and saw what the fuss was about. What a coincidence¡ªtwo masked bandits. They weren¡¯t the only ones with their sights on the precious cargo. Forte gestured to Vaun, who grasped the situation immediately.

    Vaun carefully slid closer and whispered to Forte. ¡°Let them move first. We¡¯ll clean up.¡± Forte silently nodded in agreement.

    They watched as Cadum¡¯s cargo men rolled out a large cart of mithril, and Port Sawen¡¯s mithril buyers carried over a cart of coal and bag of silversto make up the difference. A flurry of paperwork followed the exchange of goods between parties, and after an hour the Cadum vessel was fully loaded with coal and silvers. The Cadum vessel left the port unperturbed, and the mithril buyers hauled their cargo down the street.

    ¡°I recognize those mithril buyers. They were my boss¡¯s henchmen back at the coal mine.¡± Vaun frowned.

    They tensed as the two masked bandits across from them sprung into action. Leaping down with somewhat grace, the two quickly dispatched of the mithril buyers with flashing daggers.

    Vaun¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°Skilled work. You sure you wanna do this Forte?¡± Forte nodded silently, watching the two thieves take the cart down a dark alleyway. He beckoned Vaun to follow him down a rooftop chute onto the street, then motioned at Nightmare.

    The dragon flew down like a dart and spewed black flames across the two masked men. Panicking, the surprised masked duo tried to put out the fire on their cloaks. The two boys charged as the masked men struggled to put out the unnaturally incessant flames. Forte¡¯s back rippled as he swung Bl?the, cracking a masked man¡¯s ribs immediately. Sensing vulnerability, Forte immediately tackled the man onto the floor as he pounded away with his fists at the man¡¯s head. The black flames licked Forte without harming him.

    Vaun threw a smoke bomb at the masked thief as Nightmare clawed at him. Under the cover of smoke, Vaun slid his dagger into the thief¡¯s stomach. Having dispatched the first man, Forte walked over and bludgeoned him on the side with Bl?the, causing the thief to collapse. Before long, both masked men were dead.

    Wiping blood away from his dagger, Vaun nonchalantly winked at Forte. ¡°You¡¯re a natural killer, eh?¡±

    Forte shook his head and smiled back, ¡°And so are you... Where¡¯d you learn how to fight like that?¡±

    Vaun chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s a secret.¡±

    They looted the bodies, netting 30 silverapiece. Unmasking the bodies revealed two common criminals, a typical sort around Rottheim. No valuables could be found on the bodies. They would not be missed. Worried shouts revealed that the mithril buyers¡¯ bodies had been discovered by Sawen¡¯s patrol. The boys would have to work fast to avoid detection.

    Dragging the mithril cart to a deserted street, the two boys covered the cart with an old discarded blanket. After making absolutely sure that their precious cargo was safe, they headed back to the Hog¡¯s Pit for their well deserved rest.

 Chapter 12: Skirmish in the Woods

    Neighboring kingdom is called Halfast from now on.

    ------------------------

    Sunlight peeked into the musty inn room. Vaun stirred and awoke at a yelping sound. Blinking his eyes in confusion, he saw a floating dragon wagging a piece of paper in his jaw. The infant black dragon landed on his chest and dropped the ragged parchment. On it were seven messily scribbled words.

    We were found out. Follow the dragon.

    Running a hand through his messy blonde hair, Vaun sprang to his feet and prepared his kit. Forte was missing¡ªVaun presumed that he needed help. Smokes, dagger, check. ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡±

    Vaun followed the dragon downstairs.

    Famous in town for its cheap stays but unsavory clientele, the Hog¡¯s Pit Inn¡¯s interior was adorned with round wooden tables and stools. One person occupied the lounge this morning, a menacing man downing a pint of the inn¡¯s signature hogsblood ale. On a long wooden table in the middle was breakfast, a large loaf of stiff bread.

    Vaun tore off a hunk and stuffed his mouth before heading onwards. He tailed the dragon as they stepped out onto the bustling streets.

    Extra, extra! Read all about it! Two men found dead on the streets last night! Claw marks on their faces! One bludgeoned in the ribs! Witnesses claim it¡¯s the work of a large monster! Read all about it!

    Vaun¡¯s normally cheery eyes narrowed upon hearing the newsboy¡¯s shouts. Two men¡­ those must have been the two mithril thieves they killed yesterday. The town thinks they were killed by a large monster. Not¡­ quite true. Vaun looked nervously at the innocuously petite black dragon floating ahead of him. It wriggled in satisfaction hearing of its great deeds.

    As he followed the dragon flying effortlessly¨Cas if it were floating¨Cin front of him, he walked by an open butchery, wincing as the loud butcher swung down at his chopping board at a slog flank. Then, he passed a musty tavern with a hooded mystic selling jewelry in front. Beside it was a small pastry shop with a cheerful girl displaying a line of brightly colored pastries. Nightmare nudged Vaun towards the tavern with its name, Knave¡¯s Meadhall, emblazoned on a large wooden sign.

    Ignoring the mystic in front, Vaun stepped into the tavern and immediately saw a grimacing Forte locked in an arm wrestle with a much larger man. After a few moment¡¯s struggle, the larger man overpowered Forte and slammed his hand down amid cheering onlookers. The man chuckled and patted Forte¡¯s back as he chortled, ¡°har har, he¡¯s a tough ¡®un for so young.¡±

    Forte pouted, replying, ¡°Hey now, I was holding back right then!¡± The bawdy crowd burst into laughter at the boy¡¯s display of arrogance. With a smile still on his face, Forte pulled aside Vaun and whispered into his ear, ¡°look to your left.¡± His smile slowly disappeared.

    Vaun glanced to the left and saw, far in the corner of the tavern, sat a contingent of the Count¡¯s soldiers. In the middle was a bearded man with a jagged scar down his cheek. Forte continued to whisper, ¡°the thieves we killed yesterday were hired by those soldiers. One of them saw us. We have to get rid of them. See the one in the middle? That¡¯s Jorhan. I asked around¡ªhe¡¯s one of the best swordsmen in town. He fought in the last great war with Halfast seven years ago, that¡¯s where he got that nasty scar, and is working as a mercenary now.¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Vaun nodded and began drawing his dagger. ¡°Best ¡®ta catch him unprepared,¡± he said. Forte shook his head. ¡°Not right now, we¡¯ll get arrested. We lure them somewhere.¡±

    Glancing back, Vaun counted three men. He whispered to Forte, ¡°Are you sure we can take them? I see three of them, all armed.¡± Forte chuckled. ¡°Three of them, three of us. Plus, did you watch the arm wrestle back there? I really was holding back.¡±

    Forte signaled Vaun to follow him out of the tavern and back on the streets. Vaun noticed Forte had a rolled up newspaper in his hand, which he tossed to the side. Nightmare curled up on Forte¡¯s head and shoulders, draping his tail around the hilt of Forte¡¯s immense greatsword.

    ¡°We¡¯ll head out of the city, to somewhere remote,¡± said Forte to Vaun. They meandered through the town until reaching the town gates. After a quick nod from the guards, they were out. Although he could not see the Count¡¯s soldier¡¯s tailing them, Vaun could sense their presence behind them. They continued to follow the road uphill, then veered off the path to the right until they reached a forested enclave surrounding a flowing river.

    There they waited. Before long, the Count¡¯s soldiers emerged. A bearded man with a jagged scar on his cheek bared his teeth and growled, ¡°So you¡¯re the little rats that stole our loot. Now be good lads and tell me where you hid the cart.¡±

    Vaun jeered, ¡°And what if we don¡¯t?¡±

    Jorhan, the bearded man, sneered and shouted, ¡°Kill them!¡±

    Before the soldiers could draw their swords, a black dragon darted down from a tree and tackled one down, slashing his neck. Forte reached back and drew his gravitite sword as he squared off with Jorhan. Vaun threw a smoke grenade at the remaining soldier¡¯s feet, dashing into the smoke cover. Under the cover of smoke, Vaun sensed the soldier¡¯s location. His smoke grenades created a hallucinogenic effect to anyone that inhaled the fumes for too long. Vaun, however, had developed a partial immunity after years of exposure. A blind swing of the soldier¡¯s sword nearly missed Vaun as he cursed under his breath.

    As Vaun approached again in the chaos of the smoke, a second swing grazed his arm, leaving a clean horizontal cut with blood seeping out. He retreated a few steps and waited as the soldier swung wildly around him. Sensing the soldier¡¯s exhaustion, Vaun crept forwards and lunged with his dagger, sinking the blade through the soldier¡¯s leather armor and into his gut. The soldier dropped his sword and clenched his stomach in agony, then pummeled Vaun with his bare hands. Poison from the tip of Vaun¡¯s dagger spread through his veins, and after another blow to Vaun¡¯s body, he collapsed lifeless.

    Vaun was pinned under the soldier¡¯s heavy body, and struggled to push him off. A meter away from Vaun, Nightmare¡¯s legs dug into the soldier¡¯s chest as he bit into the soldier¡¯s neck and snapped it, dealing a fatal blow. The black dragon flew off immediately after dispatching the soldier to aid Forte in his duel with Jorhan.

    Jorhan¡¯s swordsmanship outclassed Forte, as his blows found ways past Forte¡¯s guard. Forte had never met such fierce swordplay before, and struggled to keep up with his heavy gravitite greatsword. Jorhan slashed down on Forte¡¯s shoulder and chest, opening up new wounds on top of old ones as Forte groaned in pain. Predicting Jorhan¡¯s third consecutive downwards slash, Forte parried with bl?the. A loud clank rang through the air before getting lost in the sound of a torrent of water rushing down the river. The parry had left a dent in Jorhan¡¯s steel sword, which he examined increduously.

    ¡°Impossible. You little brat!¡± he swore, as he raised his left hand, palm facing forwards. A faint glow appeared in Jorhan¡¯s eyes.

    Forte¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. Magic.

 Chapter 13: The two swords

    ¡°Fyrza!¡± A blast of light erupted from Jorhan¡¯s palm and struck Forte squarely in the chest. The boy collapsed forwards and gasped for breath, hand clutching his stricken heart. His arms and legs grew rigid as his pumping heart began to slow. What sorcery is this? he thought in panic.

    Sidling forwards with an elegant steel longsword in hand, Jorhan spat on the ground and glared at Forte. ¡°You are nothing, child,¡± snarled the bearded man contemptuously, ¡°Not even a rat. Did you seriously think you could challenge me? Fyrza!¡±

    Jorhan raised his left palm and blasted Forte backwards with a blinding streak of arcane energy, leaving the boy paralyzed on the damp grass. Gushing river water splashed on his face, but Forte¡¯s blurred vision and ringing ears could barely make out his surroundings. He faintly heard Vaun shouting swears in the background, and the frenzied battle cries of his black dragon. Blinking away the water splashed on his face, Forte saw the cruel outline of a lumbering, battle scarred mercenary in a leather tunic gazing down at him. The mercenary¡¯s lips curled into a snarl as he raised his elegant steel longsword, ready to hack the boy in half. Forte tried grab his sword, but his arms refused to budge an inch, as if they were filled with lead.

    The mercenary swung down at his head. His eyes seared with pain as he felt a strange warmth envelop his body. Then, the world faded to black.

    --------------------------------

    After several attempts to lift the hefty corpse, Vaun finally managed to roll out from under the dead soldier¡¯s body. Heaving, he watched as twelve year old Forte dueled Jorhan in a heavy exchange of blows as they traced the edge of the riverbank. Vaun was astonished at how well Forte held his ground against the veteran and the clear strength behind his blows, but in an instant the boy was pushed back by Jorhan¡¯s superior swordplay.

    Coughing out some blood, Vaun watched as the older veteran landed consecutive blows across Forte¡¯s torso, before steel met gravitite as his third blow was parried. The jarring sound of colliding metal reverberated through the forest, leaving a large dent in the elegant steel sword while the boy¡¯s greatsword remained unblemished.

    Seemingly out of thin air, a blaze of green shot towards Forte and collided with his chest in a resonating explosion. It was Vaun¡¯s first time seeing magic¡­ but he had seen enough. With sweating hands, he fumbled as he pulled two smoke grenades off his belt and lobbed them at Jorhan.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.-----------------------------------

    Jorhan Ealdwin looked in horror at his mangled sword Termalin. Once rumored to have belonged to the elven royal family, the decorated elven steel longsword was passed down the Ealdwin family bloodline for generations. Having felled hundreds of men and beasts with its blows, the ornate elf sword was his pride. Never once had Termalin failed him. Not until today.

    Rage coursed through his veins as Jorhan broke his vows and invoked forbidden magic, knowledge he pried from a scholar¡¯s dead hands many years ago. He smote the boy twice, and felt the familiar sap from his stamina. For a moment, his knees buckled, unable to support his own weight.

    He stepped over the boy¡¯s body and raised Termalin, ready to cleave the little rat in half. He swung down. Suddenly, the boy¡¯s blank eyes turned into an icy blue glare of intense malice, stopping his blade in its tracks. He could not move his right arm one bit, as if an invisible force held an iron grip on him. The grip tightened on his arm, and an excruciating pain spread across his arm. Moments later it loosened, leaving a large bruise and slightly smoking skin.

    He recognized the force for what it was.

    Magic.

    Two popping sounds came from the ground. Jorhan looked down to see violet smoke seeping out of a pair of black spheres. Before he could react, thick violet smoke filled the air, causing Jorhan to gasp for air as he began to feel incoherent and dizzy.

    The smoke cleared after what seemed like an eternity, and the boy was gone. He cursed under his breath, then pulled a canteen of whiskey he¡¯d been saving for later from his pouch.

    ¡°Using magic without words... in all my years¡­ I¡¯ve never heard of such a thing,¡± mumbled the scar-faced man to himself, as he uncapped a canteen and carefully poured alcohol down his bruised arm. Grimacing as he tied a rag bandage around his arm, Jorhan Ealdwin slowly sauntered back towards Sawen with a dented sword strung across his back.

 Chapter 14: The Price of Magic

    Forte woke to the stifling smell of potions and velvet smoke in a musty basement.

    ¡°Finally, you are awake.¡± Vaun said.

    ¡°Wh-what happened to us?¡± Forte responded. ¡°Didn¡¯t we lose the fight?¡±

    Vaun stared at Forte accusing eyes. ¡°This happened.¡± Vaun said, opening his palm. A black dragon scale lay in the center.

    ¡°The moment you parried his blow, the swordsman used an incantation and sent a blast of green energy towards you. I immediately smoked the area and dove for you. That was when your dragon started making the strangest sound, and the swordsman froze as if he was a marble sculpture. It was one of the strangest things I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± Vaun said.

    ¡°It was magic.¡± Vaun whispered.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Magic.¡± Forte nodded. ¡°How long have I been knocked out?¡±

    ¡°Only a few hours. We have to get moving.¡± Vaun replied. ¡°Still have to sell our mithril tonight. Sell the mithril and avoid the Count¡¯s soldiers. How do you want to split the silver?¡±

    ¡°You saved my life Vaun. It¡¯s fifty fifty.¡± Forte smiled.

    ¡°Deal.¡± Vaun grinned like a cat. His grin faded as he seemed to remember something. ¡°And I should tell you this now. Your dragon¡­ he disappeared after the last fight. Into a wisp of smoke. I¡¯m not sure what to make of it.

    Forte frowned, concerned.

    ¡°I should tell you one last thing. After we get the money, I have some personal matters to take care of. We may or may not see each other again. I wish you the best if we don¡¯t.¡± Vaun said solemnly.

    Forte nodded. ¡°I understand. Need to settle my own scores as well. I believe we are fated to meet again. Something tells me that my personal matters and your personal matters are not completely unrelated. But enough of that.¡±

    Forte stood up an rolled up his sleeves. ¡°Let¡¯s get going. We have a deal to make.¡±

    Author¡¯s notes: Currency system is now in silvers instead of gold.

 Chapter 15: Fair Winds

    Forte and Vaun headed to the transaction point in Port Sawen with the cart of looted mithril. Two knights in armor embroidered with the king¡¯s sigil greeted them.

    ¡°This is the shipment of mithril, sirs.¡± Forte exclaimed tentatively. ¡°We are looking for 300 silvers per bar.¡±

    The knight sneered. ¡°That¡¯s it? Only twelve bars? The king will have our head with this kind of quantity. I¡¯ll pay you 600 silvers for all twelve bars¡­ what a miserable shipment."

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir, but that is only 50 silvers per bar. We cannot¡ª¡°

    The knight¡¯s eyes flared. ¡°Then we will take it by force!¡± He said, as the two king¡¯s knights drew their blades.

    Vaun¡¯s eyes darted worryingly between Forte and the knights, hand ready to draw his dagger. Forte motioned him to stand down.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°We don¡¯t want to fight. How about 80 silvers per bar?¡± Forte said.

    The two knights consulted each other in whispers. After a moment¡¯s consideration, the knight answered. ¡°That¡¯s reasonable. We have a deal.¡±

    The knight handed over 960 silvers as Forte and Vaun passed the cart of mithril bars to them. The knights had the mithril lifted into their carriage, and then departed without a word.

    Forte sighed heavily. ¡°We were played. Only 960 silvers. That¡¯s 480 for both of us.¡± He handed Vaun a pouch with half of the earnings.

    ¡°Aye¡­¡± Vaun shook his head in disappointment, weighing the pouch in his hands with practiced movement. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but will have to do. Better than losing an arm and a leg.¡±

    ¡°Anyway, this is where we part. I must take care of my business. This silver will be a start.¡± Vaun declared in a solemn tone.

    ¡°Best of luck to you, friend. Fair winds and safe travels.¡± Forte replied.

    ¡°Fair winds to you as well, friend. May we meet again over a pint of ale.¡± Vaun grinned with his cat-like eyes.

    Forte frowned as he watched his friend walk out the Port. He was on his own again. No one to save him now. Neither dragon nor potion master would come to his aid.

    Author¡¯s notes: Level 5 Vaun has left the party. S+ pet has left the party.

 Chapter 16: Horace Hammerhead

    It had been two weeks since Vaun departed, and Forte was running short on funds. His ill-gotten earnings had dwindled to 196 silvers due to living expenses and some poor investments. Job openings for F-class adventurers were few and far in between. Today he would have to go to the job office again, and see if they had anything new to offer.

    Forte ordered a steamed bun for breakfast, and headed to the placement office, where he met Vaun for the first time. He saw a few advertisements for jobs.

    Cook needed. Experience with slog flank necessary. Open to class E or above. Must cook meals for a travelling party of 10 for 3 weeks.

    Caravan escort required. Open to all classes. Job positions are trial by combat. Caravan is travelling to the city of Leivestrum.

    Construction strongman required. Open to class C or above. Must be able to lift heavy stones for construction on the castle.

    Forte laughed as he read the second posting. Ready to test his luck, he tore off a slip and headed to the address specified, located in a quiet part of Sawen. The clang of swords could be heard long before he reached the house where the trials by combat were being conducted. It was a small house with a medium sized garden in the back. Forte knocked on the door.

    ¡°Yes?¡± The doorman questioned from behind the locked door.

    ¡°I¡¯m here for the caravan escort job.¡± Fort answered.

    ¡°Aye well¡­ yer just a kid. A strong kid, ye, but just a kid. You think yer up to snuff?¡± The doorman replied.

    ¡°Of course I am.¡± Fort answered adamantly.

    ¡°Alright, suit yerself then.¡± The doorman said as he let Forte in.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    A thick stench of beer and sweat hit Forte as he stepped inside. A tall, brawny fighter was competing with an equally brawny man of smaller stature. The shorter man landed a heavy blow with a wooden mace on the tall man¡¯s side, folding him instantly.

    ¡°Ha! Is that the best you got here?¡± said the short, mustached fighter with a mace.

    ¡°That, my young friend, is Horace.¡± Said the doorman, smiling. ¡°He¡¯s beaten everyone here, and yer his next. Try! If you fight well, we might hire you.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s have a tussle lad. Me mace versus that ¡®un sword. Let¡¯s see who¡¯s stronger.¡± Horace declared.

    ¡°Of course we don¡¯t allow real weapons here. Take this wooden sword, and fight to your heart¡¯s content.¡± The doorman added.

    Forte took a hefty wooden sword and stepped into the ring against Horace. Horace extended an ugly wide toothed grin and spat on the ground in excitement. Forte winced but kept his calm.

    ¡°Begin!¡± The doorman exclaimed.

    Horace dashed forwards with the strength of a bull, and swung with his left hand. Forte parried, recoiling as the heavy wooden mace collided with his wooden blade. He was not familiar fighting with lefties.

    ¡°Ha!¡± Horace shouted as he swung consecutively at Forte¡¯s body. Forte parried each blow with difficulty, then lashed out with his left fist, connecting with Horace¡¯s face. Horace backed off and charged again, this time clearly disoriented. Instead of parrying, Forte nimbly dodged the swing and elbowed Horace in the neck. Horace stood there gripping his neck in pain, as Forte did not waste a breath and pushed him to the ground. Forte smashed his fists and elbows against Horace¡¯s face until his nose began bleeding and eyes swelled up.

    ¡°Stop. Stop. Alright, you had me. Enough, me lad.¡± Horace groaned in pain.

    Forte stepped back, to see the doorman¡¯s mouth wide open in shock.

    ¡°You are both hired.¡± He said firmly.

    Forte smirked and exhaled, cracking his knuckles. He had been eating well and put on a good amount of muscle in the last few months, and it was paying off now.

    The doorman was a tough looking gray haired man with a full beard. He motioned Forte and Horace to come with him upstairs. They walked up into a small tea room, and sat down.

    ¡°Hello, my new hires. My name is Eric. Let¡¯s discuss the terms and pay of the job.¡± Eric said. ¡°The trip to Leivestrum is five nights. We might encounter bandits or monsters, who knows. The cargo is a secret. It¡¯s not much, but it doesn¡¯t take much to interest bandits these days. Your pay is 40 silverper day. I will provide meals for you. Do you accept these terms?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Horace said.

    ¡°I accept.¡± Forte repeated.

    ¡°Great. We leave at dawn.¡± Eric smiled.

 Chapter 17: Of Mice and Mages

    The party awoke at dawn to depart for Lievestrum. Forte¡¯s inventory contained 190 silvers, a gravitite broadsword, leather armor, and a small knapsack. He had not heard from his dragon since the skirmish with Jorhan, but he was not worried. Nightmare could take care of himself, that he was sure of. Horace was armed with a bronze mace, a chainmail vest made of steel, and brass knuckles. Eric, their client, was dressed in a flowing gown with a hood. He was armed with a dagger.

    They departed at 5 in the morning. Forte tried to ask Eric about the contents of the caravan, but the merchant remained tight lipped despite hinting that the packages were of modest value. Forte considered weighing the risks and rewards of backstabbing his client. He would have to deal with Horace and the merchant, but even if he won the fight, his F class 20 points status would be downgraded due to failure of his assignment. The package would have to be sufficiently worthy for him to consider such an act.

    The carriage was a standard issue dual horse drawn carriage with a covered cart in the back. Forte and Horace sat in the cart as deterrence against potential bandits. Lievestrum was the closest town north of Sawen, and was renown for its dry wines and luxurious vineyards. It was also a gathering spot for mages of all kinds.

    Magic was a rare art, and combat mages were almost nonexistent. Mages were persecuted by the King, who overlooked minor instances of magic, but persecuted any instances of blatant witchcraft. But this made mages all the more alluring to the common people. Almost all magicians were scholarly by nature, and therefore could not muster up the stamina fueled mana to cast spells of force. Magic was commonly used to perform trivial tasks such as lighting candles, creating small illusions for children¡¯s amusement, and aiding in the concoction of potions. The study of magic was thought to be an evil but benign version of the study of jesterhood and astrology. There were also many phony magicians who claimed to possess magical talent, but actually used tricks of light and mind to create the illusion of magic. Most mages possessed little to no magical ability, and certainly not powerful magic. But Jorhan was different. Forte had never heard of a swordsman who could cast magic, much less such potent combat magic. Forte vividly remembered the spell that smote him, fyrza.

    ¡°Fyrza,¡± whispered Forte. Horace stirred. No matter how many times invoke the incantation, the power eluded him. They had travelled unperturbed for the whole day, and a near full moon shone brightly in the sky.

    Four pairs of yellow eyes approached from in front of the carriage, causing the horses to neigh and panic. Forte nudged Horace, who mumbled and then turned alert.

    ¡°Wolves,¡± Forte whispered.

    ¡°Aye, a bloody pack of them.¡± Horace replied.

    The two of them leapt off the carriage and stepped in front of Eric, who was busy calming the horses.

    ¡°If ye can¡¯t deal with them let¡¯s make a dash for it.¡± Eric said softly.Stolen novel; please report.

    Horace snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry. We¡¯ll take care of this.¡± He dashed off and swung at the leading wolf.

    Forte unsheathed rippling grey Blothe and swung at a wolf with a heavy swing. The wolf dodged and the blade missed, leaving a large dent in the dirt. Two wolves pounced at Forte, but he quickly unhinged his gravitite greatsword from the ground and landed a sweeping blow on the torso of the wolves. As the wolf recoiled in pain on the ground, Forte raised his greatsword and slammed it into the ribcage of the wounded wolf, crushing the ribcage and killing the wolf instantly. The second wolf paced cautiously, and this time it was Forte¡¯s turn to attack.

    ¡°Rahh!!¡± He yelled, running forwards and smashing the hilt of the blade into the wolf¡¯s jaw, which broke several teeth. Forte then elbowed the wolf¡¯s face and sent it recoiling. He then took his greatsword and swung down, instantly crushing the wolf¡¯s neck and spine. The second wolf died instantly.

    Meanwhile, Horace had killed one wolf with a crushing mace blow to the head, and was pinned on the ground by the second. His brass knuckles dug into second wolf, as Forte landed a killing blow with his gravitite greatsword. The fight was over.

    The party regrouped and continued their journey. They camped near the road, eating boar-meat-and-leek pies, and drinking spiced apple ale prepared by Eric. The pastry coating of the meat pies stopped them from turning rancid for weeks, and thus meat pies were a delectable food for long journeys. The next three days were uneventful. They were a day and a half away from Leivestrum. On the fourth night, they had rabbit-meat-and-cabbage pies, and drank spiced apple ale.

    A mouse appeared on their picnic cloth, nibbling away at their rabbit meat pies.

    ¡°Where¡¯d this bugger come from?¡± Horace said, shooing the mouse away.

    Suddenly, four small mice charged onto the picnic table, and Eric tried stomping them to get thetm to leave. Horace and Forte scooped up the food, but could not save the ale. The ale was spilled and the mice lapped up the spiced drink. It took a while for the party to shoo away the mice.

    Suddenly, Eric stood up and shouted. A flapping sound could be heard in the wind. It was the sound of the caravan¡¯s cart, opened. The trio rushed back to see what had transpired. Eric leapt into the cart, and several mice spilled out. Forte managed to kill a few of the mice, but the rest got away.

    Forte managed to peek into the caravan¡¯s cargo. It looked like a normal shipment of assorted goods. Eric shut the curtain, and the sound of shuffling belongings could be heard. He emerged a quarter of an hour later.

    ¡°Nothing¡¯s missing, except a tome.¡± Eric explained, exacerbated. ¡°How can this be? How did they know? Ye see, this shipment is a normal shipment with the exception of one item. It was a favor for my cousin. He¡¯s a strange lad, always poking his head where his head doesn¡¯t belong. And this time he asked me buy a tome for him when I was visiting Adith, The History of Dark Magic. I bought it off this bespectacled mumbling bloke in a little magic shop. Cost me a pretty silver, that tome did. And now with that little spectacle of witchcraft, it¡¯s gone¡­¡± He shook his head vigorously.

    Eric continued. ¡°I¡¯m a busy man. I¡¯ll take it as a loss, and continue my work in Lievestrum. Will you do me a favor Forte? I¡¯ll pay you thirty silvers to tell him what transpired, and to gently inform him that his brother is a busy man who has no time for this sort of witchcraft.¡±

    Forte nodded. ¡°Sure. I¡¯d love to speak with your brother as well.¡±

    Eric smiled. ¡°He¡¯s an eccentric one, my brother. His name is Phillip Lockheed. You¡¯ll find him between the self proclaimed mage¡¯s guild¡­ how silly¡­ and the merchant¡¯s guild. Owns his little shop.¡±

    Horace grunted. ¡°Enough chit chat. Let¡¯s get moving.¡±

    The party rode off. Not before long, they reached the quaint city of Lievestrum.

 Chapter 18: The Origins of Dark Magic

    A wide arch flanked by two marble gargoyles marked the entrance into the city of Lievestrum. The smell of spiced herbs dipped in wine and potions wafted through the air. Many of the citizens walked around in standard wizard garb, a long flowing robe and a pointed hood, although Forte doubted that even one in three dozen of them had any sort of magical ability.A vast assortment of hats could be seen being worn. One young lady had a live kitten twirled around her pointed hat. The city was bustling and busy, and the shops around here were nothing like Fortehad ever seen before. He saw fluorescent sign lights, powered by strange magic. He saw snacks and confectionaries levitating in the air briefly as a street cart pastry seller amused a client. The showmanship in this city was impressive, but he did not see any indications of powerful magic.

    The caravan stopped in the middle of the city.

    ¡°Here¡¯s 200 silvers for you Mister Hammerhead, and 230 silvers for you Mister Mott. Thanks for the work. Make sure to visit that brother of mine, Forte.¡± Eric Lockheed tipped his hood respectfully, and then departed.

    ¡°Well, ¡®twas nice working with you Forte. Let me know if you need my help, and we can work together. For a price, of course. I¡¯ll be here and about.¡± Horace said, before departing.

    ¡°Understood. It was nice working with you.¡± Forte smiled.

    Forte set off to find the eccentric Phillip Lockheed. He sauntered down the crooked alleyways, dodging street vendors left and right and passing by all the fluorescent lights and enticing smells of the city of Lievestrum. He passed a whorehouse, where a pretty girl with long brown hair and hazel eyes latched onto his arm and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. Unfortunately, he had neither the time nor the money to spare, and had to bid the sweet young missus an early farewell. After much trekking, Forte Mott stopped in front of the so-called Mage Guild. It was a shabby affair, a tiny office so ridden with poverty that it looked like a slum in front of the majestically embroidered Merchant¡¯s Guild office across the street. And in the middle of the street, between the impressive Merchant¡¯s Guild and the nearly nonexistent Mage¡¯s Guild, was Phillip Lockheed, vending potions and street wares. The man was dressed like a buffoon, with a long, droopy sorcerer¡¯s hat, a white beard, and a blue flowing robe.

    ¡°I take that you¡¯re Phillip Lockheed.¡± Forte said abruptly.

    ¡°Yes¡­ yes¡­ and beg your pardon? Who might you be.¡± Phillip replied.

    ¡°Your brother sent me. I¡¯m Forte. Forte Mott.¡± Forte answered.

    ¡°Well Mister Mott, what can I do for you today? Care for a love potion? It¡¯s twice as potent if you can get a strand of your love¡¯s hair. Only fifteen silvers! Or how about a stamina potion for ten silvers? Although a boy like you, I¡¯d think you wouldn¡¯t need it! Maybe I could interest you in my specialty, a little potion of mine. Drink it, and your tongue will turn purple for an hour. Everything it touches will become purple as well. Amuse your friends! I have one last one in stock! And just ten silvers!¡± He said, chortling like a snake.Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Sorry Mister Lockheed, but I¡¯m here to talk about your tome. The Origins of Dark Magic. I was your brother¡¯s guard, and saw first hand when it was stolen from your brother on the trip here, under the most suspicious circumstances. A flurry of mice distracted us as the real bandit raided the caravan, stealing only that specific tome and nothing else. Seemed like an organized ambush, and the work of magic. Must have been. Do you have any idea who might want that tomeof yours?¡± Forte said unwaveringly.

    The grin vanished from Phillip¡¯s face as he fell deep in thought. ¡°Most suspicious indeed. That is a rare tome, The Origins of Dark Magic. Very few people still know of the dark arts, and fewer still haverecords, tomes and scrolls of such things. And that chap Bumbus Biggles owned one of the very last copies of The Origins. What a shame, what a shame indeed. I was looking forward to exploring the dark arts. For research purposes, obviously. Of course their practice has been banned.¡±

    Forte racked his memory. Bumbus Biggles sounded awfully familiar. It was the elderly bespectacled mage who recognized his dragon as a black dragon, and who gave him his gravitite greatsword. He detested the sword initially, but it had grown on him. It did not function like a sword, more like a sword shaped mace. Useful for pummeling the internal organs out of his enemies.

    Phillip stared uncomfortably long into Forte¡¯s eyes. ¡°You. You are no ordinary person. I can sense the magic in you.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what you mean Mister Lockheed.¡± Forte responded.

    Phillip motioned towards Forte. ¡°Come with me. Let me show you something.¡±

    Forte reluctantly followed. They left the street cart and headed into the seedy looking Mage¡¯s Guild. Phillip gave a small nod to the guard in the front, who let them in. They descended a staircase.

    ¡°Do you know why the dark arts are called such? Regular magic is a byproduct of the dark arts. The difference is that regular magic saps the stamina out of your body and limbs, while the dark arts¡­ They take more. Performing dark magic requires life force. Only a little bit. But your soul is forever tainted. We don¡¯t know much about the dark arts, but what we do know is just as interesting as it is disturbing. The current king has banned usage of the dark arts, but this has not always been the case. The ancient royal house of Motley-Sinclair was a heavy practitioner of the dark arts. It was their magic that pushed the beasts back into the wilderness, not just fire, as the history books would tell you.¡±

    Forte nodded. He had read about the ancient family in fairy tales as a child. ¡°So what happened to the family?¡±

    ¡°The family disappeared just as the beasts had disappeared. No one knows what happened to the ancient Motley-Sinclair line. They were known to have an affinity for fire magic, which is what allowed them to drive away even the most fearsome of beasts.¡± Phillip responded. ¡°Ah. And we¡¯re here.¡±

    They had arrived at a ritual site, with six stone pillars of different beasts lined across a rune covered round stone slab. Each step they took echoed through the cavern. The pillars of the six stone beasts grinded to a turn and faced Forte.

    Phillip¡¯s voice began to echo. ¡°I cordially invite you to join the Mage¡¯s Guild as a Master.¡±

    Forte laughed. ¡°I accept.¡±

 Chapter 19: Beneath the Mageéˆ¥æªš Guild

    Forte Mott blinked. ¡°Why so suddenly?¡±

    ¡°I sense great magic within you, boy.¡± Phillip Lockheed said solemnly. ¡°Great magic indeed. Magic that can quake the ground and slice the skies open. Magic that can change the world. That is why the Mage¡¯s Guild needs you. That is why you need the Mage¡¯s Guild. I bestow upon you the chance to earn the title of Master.¡±

    ¡°I understand that you see my potential, and you are not wrong. But why would I need you lot?¡± Forte inquired.

    ¡°The ancient Motley-Sinclair line may have died out, but their ancient practices of magichave not. We can teach you the basics of magic. Of combat magic, the likes of which has not been seen in the Varian continent for eons. There is only one catch. Your soul will be tainted forever by the dark magic, unless a dragon gives you its blessing. And since dragons have become extinct, that is no longer an option. Overuse of dark magic will tear your soul into shreds. But if you desire power, power like no other, power to part oceans and level kingdoms, the dark arts will grant you it. Think carefully. Do you accept these conditions? Do you desire great power?¡±

    Forte smirked. Little did they know. ¡°I accept.¡±

    Phillip Lockheed nodded and explained. ¡°Many of the arts have been lost through time, but we will show you what has been retained. Any further understanding of the lost arts must be regained through ancient scrolls and tomes, much like The Origin of Dark Magic that my dear old brother so carelessly lost. Look here.¡±

    With a twirl, Phillip Lockheed rolled up his left sleeve so that the bare white flesh of his arm showed. It was mangled with ugly scars. He drew a dagger from his cloak, and then made a shallow cut into the arm. Blood spilled onto the floor. ¡°The dark arts require sacrifice to cast,¡± Phillip explained. ¡°And for those of us without the physical stamina to offer to fuel the magic, we instead give our blood. Not many things can substitute the body¡¯s stamina, but ancient mages discovered that blood was a suitable catalyst.¡±

    ¡°Ariz vallan.¡± He spoke. A bitter groan escaped from his lips as his eyes lit up slightly. To the side of the stone platform, a skeleton hand appeared, and then another, as a skeleton climbed its way up onto the platform. The skeleton walked towards them, but with a shudder from Phillip, it fell into a mess of bones. The spell had ended.

    ¡°My power is limited. Blood magic is inefficient, and we are all limited by our knowledge of the ancient language of magic. The incantation I used was arise fallen. I will teach you to the best of our knowledge, the practice of magic and the incantations of the ancient language of magic.¡±

    Forte¡¯s eyes glinted. ¡°Would you know what the incantation Fyrza means?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Phillip frowned. ¡°I¡¯m afraid we haven¡¯t happened upon that particular ancient word. Where did you learn of it? A tome?¡±

    Forte¡¯s face darkened. ¡°It was used against me. By a mysterious swordsman in Sawen. He casted it twice against me, and I nearly died. Luckily my allieshelped me escape, or I wouldn¡¯t be here talking to you.¡±

    ¡°That is most strange¡­ and concerning.¡± Phillip remarked. ¡°To the Mage¡¯s Guild¡¯s knowledge, mages powerful enough to cast combat magic are few and far in between. This world has not seen refined hostile magic since the Motley-Sinclair era so very long ago.¡±

    ¡°But enough of that. Magic is a difficult force to control. You must reach deep within yourself to draw from the power. It is not an easy skill to learn, nor is it an easy skill to teach. Many people simply do not have the gift. Why don¡¯t you try the incantation I just used?¡± Phillip said.

    Forte braced himself, searching within to latch onto that vast power he felt when he used magic. ¡°Ariz vallan!¡± He exclaimed.

    Nothing happened.

    ¡°Ariz¡­ vallan.¡± He whispered.

    Nothing happened.

    Phillip sighed. ¡°It takes effort. Even the most talented of us required years to master the basics. Even though you are in trial to become Master of the Mage¡¯s Guild now, you must realize that our mastery and knowledge of magic is near extinction. Magic and knowledge of magic is dying, slowly. We strive to preserve what is left of the art. That is what it means to be a Master, to pursue the mastery and knowledge of the ancient art of magic. You will earn your title eventually.¡±

    Forte nodded. ¡°Will you teach me the incantations of magic?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course, in due time. I will teach you the basics now.¡± Phillip said. ¡°First for the elements. Water is Vasar. Wind is Waera. Earth is Tonn. Fire is Infernus. And gravity¡­ gravity is Blothe. Be careful of using gravity. It takes an inordinate amount of energy to cast a gravity incantation, even to weight down a single butterfly. We are not sure why, as this violates the First Principle of Magic. There are still many things we do not understand about magic. Gravity is one of them. Come with me.¡±

    Phillip Lockheed lead Forte upstairs to a musty study room. He taught Forte many of the incantations that the Mage¡¯s Guild had salvaged through bits and scraps of knowledge. Finally, Forte left. He paid the Mage¡¯s Guild a two hundred silver fee for entrance, leaving him with 220 silvers. He didn¡¯t regret the expense at all. Learning magic was invaluable, and he could have the chance to work with the Mage¡¯s Guild to earn money.

    Forte checked into a dusty old inn for three silvers a night, and paid two silvers for a dinner of roasted duck and potatoes. After a good night¡¯s sleep, he went searching for work. After looking at the meager selection at the job office, he headed to his guild. Forte noticed that the Mage¡¯s Guild in Leivestrum consisted of Phillip Lockheed and four assistants.

    ¡°Hello Master Lockheed. I¡¯m looking for work.¡± Forte announced.

    Phillip Lockheed nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve come to the right place. I have just the job for you. Something you should be familiar with. Money is tight these days, but I am willing pay you a hefty one thousand silvers for the retrieval of The Origins of Dark Magic, and I will pay you a respectable two hundred silvers if you can simply find who was behind the robbery.¡±

    Forte nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll take the job.¡±

    Phillip Lockheed. ¡°Good. I already have my suspicions on who might be behind this. You see, my assistants have informed me that a certain mercenary called Mace Hammond was the bandit that raided my brother¡¯s caravan. But you see, Mace is a sellsword, not a magician. I need to know his benefactor, who he was working for. The magician.¡±

 Chapter 20: Innkeeperéˆ¥æªš woes

    Forte decided that he would investigate this Mace character first. He headed across the street to the Merchant¡¯s Guild, and was greeted by a slithery welcome.

    ¡°Welcome. Ssssssssssoo nice to sssssssseee you. How can we help you today?¡± Said the hooded merchant at the counter.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to hire Mace. Do you have a profile on him?¡± Forte inquired.

    ¡°Of coursssssssssse. Mace Thaddus. Mercenary.¡± The merchant hissed. ¡°Sssssssssso ssssssorry, he¡¯ssssssssssss not available right now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d just like to see his profile.¡± Fort pressured.

    ¡°Here you go.¡± The hooded merchant responded.

    The merchant passed Forte a neat paper file of Mace Thaddus. Forte quickly glanced through his credentials.

    Mace Thaddus. Thirty-seven years old. Expertise: Stealth and deception. Willing to do dirty work.

    A portrait of Mace was included in the folder. Forte stopped reading and froze at the sight of the portrait. It was the slave leader with the ruby encrusted sword. He knew instantly who the mysterious benefactor was. Count Florien. The mad templar himself, who dabbled in all sorts of strange potionery and magical trivialities in his spare time, as his lucrative sex slave trade made the man rich and influential. He was well connected with the powerful Merchant¡¯s Guild, and this made him a formidable enemy. The Merchant¡¯s Guild was one of the most well connected organizations, behind only the wealthy and secretive Grauschild family.

    Forte winced as he remembered his experience in the Count¡¯s mansion. He considered hunting down Mace Thaddus, but if the tome had already reached Count Florien¡¯s mansion, then there was no way of retrieving it currently. He simply did not have the firepower to burst into the corrupt templar¡¯s mansion yet. He decided to collect his reward first. Forte left the Merchant¡¯s Guild and went in to the middle of the road and stopped at Phillip Lockheed¡¯s street shop.

    ¡°Master Lockheed, I have news.¡± Forte started.

    ¡°What is it, Forte? Any news on the tome?¡± Lockheed replied.

    ¡°Mace Thaddusworks for Count Florien. I¡¯m sure of this. I have run into him before. The mage benefactor you were looking for is Count Florien.¡± Fort answered.

    A troubled look settled on Lockheed¡¯s face as he contemplated the new information. ¡°That is news indeed. Here is your reward for the information. Two hundred silvers. And the nature of my second request has changed. It is impossible to safely retrieve the scroll now. You must investigate Count Florien, possibly interrogate his men, and see where and why he needs the tome. Listen to me boy. Count Florien is dangerous. Despite his depravities, he is a brilliant potioneer, and could possibly have access to hostile magic. You must investigate this issue carefully, without tipping off that you are doing an investigation. I will pay you silver depending on the value of the information you retrieve. This is not just for the tome now. I''ve had my own problems with Count Florien in the past.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Understood. I will inform you of any major developments.¡± Forte said, leaving the street cart.

    ¡°Take care, Forte.¡± Phillip Lockheed tipped his droopy hat.

    Forte waited in the town center for the day, looking for the elusive Count Florien sigil. Eventually, he saw a gaunt archer dressed in leather armor and armed with a willow bow and arrows wearing the sigil. Forte decided that he would track him down. He followed the soldier through the town center. The thin archer bought a love potion from a street vendor, and then walked into a whorehouse. Forte waited patiently for an hour until the archer emerged, looking somewhat disconcerted and angry. It was evening, and the archer began walking back to what seemed like his inn, taking a detour in an alley. Forte decided to strike then. As the archer walked into the alleyway, Forte put on a hood and stalked his prey. He unsheathed Blothe.

    ¡°Rahhhh!¡± He charged with his gravitite greatsword in hand, and swung at the surprised archer. Before the archer had the opportunity to string his bow, Forte had connected with his ribcage, hitting through the leather armor. The archer groaned in pain, and Forte delivered three more blows to the body of the archer with his gravitite greatsword, incapacitating him. Forte mounted the archer¡¯s torso and put his greatsword to the archer¡¯s throat.

    ¡°Where is the tome?¡± Forte growled.

    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about!¡± The archer squealed.

    ¡°Where. Is. The. Tome.¡± Forte repeated, pressing the gravitite blade harder into the archer¡¯s neck.

    ¡°What tome? I don¡¯t understand.¡± The archer replied.

    ¡°I know you work for Count Florien. Where is Mace Thaddus? Where is the tome?¡± Forte repeated.

    ¡°He-he¡¯s going to the Count¡¯s mansion right now. And I swear, I have no idea what this tome you¡¯re¡ª Aghhhhh!¡°

    The archer was cut off as Forte pressed the weight of his blade into the archer¡¯s neck, crushing his windpipe. He had heard enough. The archer choked for breath, and then slumped in a lifeless pile. Forte looted and disposed of the corpse in the alleyway, behind a bin of baubles, trinkets, and flasks. He gained 136 silvers and a bow and arrow. The town would find the body in the morning. Forte considered that Count Florien could launch an investigation to find who killed his soldier. He welcomed the opportunity. That way, he could interrogate more of his soldiers.

    Over the next week, Forte managed to kill two more of Count Florien¡¯s soldiers, looting a combined total of 248 silver. The town guards were now on high alert due to the recent incidents of disappearing people and murders. Forte could no longer do anything. But he managed to extract a crucial piece of information. Mace Thadduswas still in town. He was residing in the Arches Inn, a medium sized inn on the outskirts of town. Forte decided to break in two hours before dawn to steal the tome. He made a reservation to the inn for 15 silver, and then tracked down Mace Thaddusto room 3B.

    Night fell, and Forte went on the move. He quietly snuck up to room 3B and checked the door. It was locked. Fortunately, Vaun had taught Forte how to lock pick with a hair pin. He picked the lock for ten minutes, but eventually he was successful. Forte entered the room. Mace was sleeping in his undergarments on a large bed. There was no sign of the tome. Forte checked the drawers, quietly. Still nothing. He checked under the bed.

    It was there. The musty, old tome was there. Forte greedily took the tome and placed it into his knapsack, closed the door, and casually walked out the door. The nightshift innkeeper gave Forte a tired farewell, and he was out.

    Forte returned to his own inn room, locked the door, got onto his bed, lit a candle, and cracked open the tome, The Origins of Dark Magic, and started to read.

    The origin of the practice of dark magic can be traced to the Bay of Mists¡­

 Chapter 21: The Tome

    Forte began reading.

    The origin of the practice of dark magic can be traced to the Bay of Mists, an isle far in the south. It is far beyond the reaches of the common man, a land of dangerous beasts and fantastic creatures, a land that no man has lay foot on for many years, and many years to come. Beasts that once roamed the Varian continent but were pushed back by my brethren.

    But what is dark magic? Many believe that it is the burning of the soul, instead of stamina, to produce magical energy used to fuel spells. And thus, they labelled it dark magic, black magic¡­ even blood magic. Dark magic is the study of alternate mediums of sacrifice to create magical energy. This may be life force, in the case of black magic, or blood, in the case of blood magic. Sometimes, a piece of a soul can be ripped from the whole and used as fuel for truly powerful magic. Dark magic is an untamed force. It is like the wind, or the rain, or any of the elements. It is unstoppable. If you seek true power at any cost, look no further. But that is the subject for my other fondness, Practicum in the Dark Arts.

    We are here to discuss the origins of dark magic. Magic itself has existed since the dawn of time. It is the transformation and use of energy at its core, to do things that our physical bodies cannot. That is magic, and that is why it has always existed. Natural variations of magic exist. For example, the floating stones of Versai transform their weight into buoyant energy. Dark magic is merely the product of human experimentation with these natural variations of magic. Many people view these kinds of magicks as frightening and dishonorable, but that is only because they are afraid of what they do not understand. Yes, dark magic is based around the sacrifice of life and the products of life, but such sacrifice is necessary to produce great power. The very first experimentations with magic happened long ago. My family merely refined those ancient exercises into something more practical. The origins of true dark magic, and black magic, are dateless. They have been conducted since the first humans discovered the usage of magic. The refinement of those wild, crude magicks has been the task of my family and that of the Motley family for generations. We refined these arts in the Bay of Mists, where the capital of southern Varia once stood. It has remained abandoned since the great Motley-Sinclair war of last century.

    Here you will find a map of the Bay of Mists. If you are to visit, I urge you to avoid the Isle of Sirens, and reach the Rock of Gibraltar. It is there, where everything that is unclear shall become clear. But beware. Only those whose blood runs thick will be deemed worthy to enter.

    The Origins of Dark Magic, by Fabian Sinclair.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Forte¡¯s eyes widened at those two, messily inscribed words. Fabian Sinclair. A member one of the Motley-Sinclair ancient royal houses, long deceased. Forte glanced at the date of tome¡ªnearly seven centuries ago. He noticed that there was mention of a great Motley-Sinclair war, something he had never heard of up until now. He surmised that that must have been how the two royal houses collapsed.

    Forte decided that he must travel to the ancient strongholds in the Bay of Mists, to examine the traces of ancient black magicks. He would travel to places that existed only in fairy tales and legends. And he would absorb their secrets and become stronger.

    Forte turned in the tome to Phillip Lockheed and collected his thousand silver reward. He now had 1720 silver, which was enough to buy supplies for nearly 215 days without foraging, and enough left to spare to purchase new equipment. He headed to the armory.

    ¡°Welcome, young master. How should I serve you today?¡± The armorer grunted.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to be fit for an iron torso plate armor, heavy leather leggings, and wyvernscale gauntlets please.¡± Forte replied.

    The armorer took his measurements. ¡°The plate armor will be 274 silver, the leather leggings 52 silver, and the wyvernscale gauntlets will be 356 silver.¡±

    Forte paid the armorer a combined total of 682 silvers. He then headed to the cookery and spent 625 silvers on salted meat and vegetable rations for 215 days, leaving 413 silvers in his pouch.

    With everything prepared and packed, he headed down south back to port Sawen. It was a sixteen day long journey from Lievestrum to port Sawen on foot. Forte fought off a few wolves and a bear, but all in all the journey was uneventful. But he smelled something wrong once he reached Sawen. There was a barracks set up in front of the city flying the kingdom¡¯s sigil, a white lion. Forte estimated there to be at least forty soldiers in front of the port city. Two of them were arguing with the port¡¯s authorities. Forte crept closer and hid in a tree as he watched the proceedings.

    ¡°His majesty King Richard III has ordained that all mithril shipments to this port shall be seized, and any seller shall be promised forty silvers a bar.¡± The soldier reported.

    ¡°That¡¯s heresy! Mithril bars go for five hundred silvers per bar¡ªforty silvers is a joke.¡± The port authority responded.

    ¡°Such the king has ordained. If you resist, we will take the mithril by force.¡± The soldier continued.

    The port authority snorted. ¡°So be it. Long live the king. But you will not see another bar of mithril in this city for as long as I live.¡±

    Forte mused over what just transpired. The cities were under the kingdom¡¯s domain, but they were technically allies, and not vassal states. Such a move was unprecedented, and could cause rebellion against the kingdom. The king must be desperate for mithril to pull such a maneuver, Forte presumed. And there was only one reason anyone would want that kind of quantity of mithril¡ªto arm the forces with mithril weapons and armors. Forte felt a gust of wind on his back and a familiar presence. He turned around.

    It was his dragon, Nightmare.

 Chapter 22: Encounter with a new race

    Nightmare had grown in the months past. The not-so-infantile-anymore dragon stood at half Forte¡¯s height, and his regality had magnified with his size. Forte was surprised. At this rate, the dragon would outgrow him in a few months.

    ¡°Where have you been buddy?¡± Forte questioned.

    Nightmare levitated in the air, disinterested. Forte climbed down from the tree and pet his old friend. Nightmare puffed out a billow of black smoke.

    ¡°Either way, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here. I¡¯m planning on going to the Bay of Mists, which is far south of here. And you¡¯re not leaving me this time.¡± Forte demanded.

    Nightmare nodded and purred. He nuzzled Forte on the cheek.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go now. No reason to mess with the royal army here.¡± Forte said.

    The duo departed from Sawen, and headed further south. The climate got warmer and more tropical as they proceeded. After a few weeks of unperturbed travel, they had reached the outskirts of the human domain. Forte stopped one last time at a miserable inn at an outskirt town. He would miss human interaction. They occasionally saw wild slogs roaming about, and the odd herd of kam, collectively prancing about while eating grass. Nightmare was big enough to hunt the kams, and the two of them teamed up on the slogs. They feasted on succulent slog meat and lean kam meat for days. Forte barely touched his rations.

    ¡°Ariz vasar.¡± Forte said, brow furrowed as he concentrated. He succeeded in levitating a small ball of water from a pond, but only for a mere second before the ball dissipated and crashed back down. Even that small incantation tired him immensely. Magic required both physical and mental strength. It was by no means easy. Forte could only imagine how difficult it must have been for Jorhan to cast combat magic onto him. He could still not figure out what kind of spell Fyrza was.

    Ever since Forte and Nightmare ventured outside of human territory, they began sleeping in the tree tops to be cautious. And they were right to be cautious.

    Forte had smothered his campfire, but the smell of roasted slog had attracted something big. A loud trumpeting roar reverberated through the plains, and a wingless wyvern emerged. Its gnarled head and emaciated body were typical of that of a wingless wyvern. Forte awoke from the sound and slowly drew his greatsword. The wyvern paced back and forth, eyeing the slog meat, before approaching. Forte jumped down.

    ¡°Infernus!¡± He shouted, casting the incantation at the campfire. The campfire roared into existence, and the wyvern shrieked in fear. Forte felt a sap to his stamina as he cast the spell. Nightmare circled above, ready to strike.

    ¡°Ariz infernus!¡± The campfire roared into the skies, unnaturally large. The wingless wyvern turned tail and ran away with another shriek. It was just as the old legends said¡ªbeasts were afraid of fire. Forte smirked. He was getting stronger. Phiillip Lockheed had tested Forte¡¯s affinities with the elements, and discovered that Forte had a great affinity for fire, some affinity for wind, and little affinity for water and earth. They could not test affinity for gravity, because gravity spells were lethal in their stamina sap.

    Forte and Nightmare had a good night¡¯s sleep after the incident with the wingless wyvern. All was quiet on the southern plains. The next morning, the duo awoke and feasted on kam meat and salted vegetables. That was when they noticed a familiar sight, the sight of a merchant caravan, travelling with two guards. The guards were armed with leather armor and steel helmets. One was an archer, the other was an axeman. The archer was there to deter raptors or other beasts from a distance, and the axeman was for the heavy fighting if things went south. It was a small but effective crew for travelling the barren wilderness. Forte weighed the risks and rewards, and decided that it was time to strike, just as he and Nightmare had done so frequently in the past.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    He strategized with Nightmare, which was mostly just Forte talking and Nightmare nodding in assent or shaking his head in dissent. The two agreed upon an evening approach where Nightmare would attack from the sky while cloaked by darkness, and Forte would join in once the guards were distracted. They would attack the archer first, and then the axeman. By attacking the archer first, they could hit and run without taking injury. Once they killed both guards, the merchant could not run far without being killed by beasts. It was a solid plan. But first they would have to wait until it was dark.

    Night fell shortly. The merchant caravan had set up camp and a campfire for the night, and were eating dinner. Forte signaled to set the plan in motion. Nightmare circled the skies, and then swooped in and clawed the archer. His steel helmet stopped the brunt of the blow, and the two guards quickly scrambled for their weapons. The merchant drew out a dagger. Forte charged in with a battle cry, swinging at the archer and connecting. Gravitite hit leather, and the archer fell in a few blows. The axeman had retrieved his weapon, but Nightmare swooped in and breathed black fire over the axeman¡¯s shield and face. As he grappled with the fire, he dropped his axe. Forte took the opportunity to smash in the axeman¡¯s face with his gravitite greatsword. The axeman dropped dead. The hooded merchant lunged forward with his dagger, but Nightmare swooped in and parried the blow for Forte. Nightmare clawed and breathed fire at the merchant, and made quick work of him.

    Forte checked the spoils of their victory. 786 silvers were in a small chest in the back. Some assorted foods and drinks were in the back, enough for a short but extravagant journey with spiced ales and delicious pastries. Nightmare dug his teeth into a cherry tart pastry, puffing out a satisfied wisp of smoke. The cargo consisted of what looked like various ores of iron and steel, a bit of mithril ore, and a real prize. A small nugget of orichalcum. Forte¡¯s eyes lit up with greed. Orichalcum was one of the most prized metals in Varia. It was god¡¯s metal, and could create some of the deadliest swords, or the sturdiest pieces of armor. An orichalcum blade could cut through iron as if it were hard leather. They had struck gold. Even a small nugget like this could fetch around six thousand silvers if sold to the right buyer.

    Forte scratched his head. He wondered how the merchant got a hold of a nugget of orichalcum. It could possibly have been mined around here. An orichalcum vein would be a veritable gold mine. Forte and Nightmare commandeered the caravan, and adjusted it to fit their needs. It was a standard two horse caravan, with a cart and a wagon in the back. They travelled unperturbed for two weeks or so.

    One morning, Forte heard a familiar scratching sound. He immediately drew his sword, as an agitated Nightmare peeked his head outside the caravan. There were seven raptors eyeing the horses. Nightmare managed to calm the horses with some sort of telepathic bond, and Forte readied himself for fire magic. He grabbed an arrow from the quiver of the dead archer, and muttered a word.

    ¡°Infernus.¡±

    The arrow lit into a bright orange flame. Forte waved it in front of him. The raptors hissed and backed up cautiously. Forte grabbed a bow, notched the arrow, then fired it at a raptor. He missed, but quickly notched his bow and lit another arrow on fire with magic. Nightmare flew in circles above, and then swooped in to nip the raptors every so often. He clawed one raptor¡¯s eyes so badly that it squawked in pain. Forte continued to launch fire tipped arrows at the raptors, hitting a few of them. The raptors eventually retreated, clearly deterred.

    A month passed. Slogs and kams were no longer as plentiful, and Forte and Nightmare had to rely on their rations instead of hunted game. They ate small game such as rabbits and the occasional boar, anything Nightmare or Forte could hunt successfully.

    After travelling for another week, the landscape had changed. The arid plains gave way to lush forestry and grassy savannahs, with lakes and rivers. The wildlife included small game such as hares and boars and the occasional bear. After another week, Forte began to notice something strange. There were grass huts in the plains, crudely built by what seemed like humans. But humans had never ventured this far away from their territory. This was something else. Forte decided to investigate. He and Nightmare crept up to a hut, and tried to examine its inhabitants. One of the draped entrances of the huts opened.

    A brutish creature with two short horns and a stout jaw walked out and stared at them. The creature was seven feet tall and six feet wide, and was covered in inhuman muscularity. The color of its skin was a disgusting hue of greenish yellow, and it smelled of rancid meat. It had what looked like animal fat wiped over its face as a deterrant against the sun. It looked it was dragged straight out of the legends and placed in reality. Nightmare hissed.

    It was an orc. A male orc. A big one.

 Chapter 23: Orc settlement

    Author¡¯s notes: 1) As suggested by a fan, Nightmare¡¯s eye color is now golden, a color more befitting of a black dragon. I¡¯ve edited the previous chapters, but if something fell through the cracks please let me know. 2) The leader orc is now 7 feet tall instead of 6 feet tall. Orcs should look much larger than humans.

    Forte noticed strange, human-like skulls lining the huts, although those skulls were far too small to fit humans. The ugly orc continued to stare and grunt at Forte and Nightmare as if it had never seen a human or a dragon before. It probably had not. He let out a low guttural grunt, and more orcs emerged from their huts. Forte had seen enough. He bolted away and did not look back until there was a fair distance between himself and the orc camping spot. From what he read about the ancient races that had gone extinct, orcs were nomadic and tribal. They answered to their warlord, and constantly fought between each other and with other races. They were far from a peaceful race, much evidenced by the large amount of skulls decorating the camping grounds.

    Forte surmised that this particular clan was in the process of roaming, and they had gone further north than most orcs would. He was surprised that humans had never met orcs in such a long time. And then he realized. They must have met them, and the orcs probably killed them like cattle. The ones that survived, it was safe to assume that nobody believed their fantastic tales of orckind. At least orcs were true to their nature¡ªhumans were a fickle race.

    Forte¡¯s ears sensed something approaching. He looked back. There were two orcs, dressed for war with leather armor and maces jogging through the lush landscape and past a serene lake towards him. They were not nearly as large as the orc he had first seen, but they were still a threat. Forte cursed under his breath. He knew he should have been more cautious while investigating the grass huts.

    He palmed his iridescent gravitite sword encrusted with a round white jewel in the pommel, and readied himself for the fight of his life. Nightmare, who was almost as tall as Forte now, flashed his golden eyes menacingly and bared his teeth. Nightmare had grown well in the last month and a half they had travelled. His legs, torso, and neck were heavily muscled, his large black scales shone brightly, and it was clear that all the slog and kam meat he had been eating was paying off. He was beginning to look like a miniature dragon. Nightmare puffed out a wisp of smoke.

    The medium sized orcs hesitated at the sight of Nightmare, but continued. Forte drew an arrow and lit it on fire with magic, and fired it at the leading orc. It hit, but bounced off. The orcs had thick skin, and a small amount of fire would not deter them. Forte cursed and drew his gravitite greatsword. The orcs charged with their maces. Forte and Nightmare locked themselves into one-on-one combat with the orcs. Gravitite met iron as Forte parried the heavy blows of the orc. Forte was quick with his greatsword, but the weight of the blade was cumbersome. The orc lifted his mace as if it were the weight of a wooden sword and continued his onslaught. Despite Forte¡¯s swordplay, he was getting overwhelmed. With a swing from the orc, the iron mace cracked across Forte¡¯s face, disorienting him as blood spilled from his nose and his eye swelled up. The orc landed another blow against Forte¡¯s ribs, and another. Forte could hear something crack inside him. The pain was numbing his mind. On the other side of the fight, Nightmare had also suffered heavy injury from the flurry of mace attacks, although the orc was scorched by black fire.

    ¡°Infernus!¡± Forte yelled, with his left palm outstretched. A weak blast of fire shot from Forte¡¯s palm and seared the orc, but the orc¡¯s skin was too thick. One last blow, and Forte fell unconscious.

    Forte woke up tied to a tree in the middle of the orc settlement, with medical herbs rubbed onto his bodice. The large orc he first saw continued to stare at him.

    ¡°My name Daka.¡± The orc grunt, surprising Forte. ¡°I talk your tongue. Your tongue same as dwarf tongue. Daka speak dwarf.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Forte winced in amusement at the orc¡¯s attempts to speak his language. ¡°Daka, would you mind letting me go old friend? I quite dislike being tied up here.¡±

    ¡°Friend, you have good eats.¡± The burly Daka pointed at the salted rations of meat and vegetables. ¡°We protect. You give us good eats. Ok?¡±

    Forte considered the proposition. He concluded that it was not a bad deal at all. Cooking was easy as long as the orcs did the hunting, and he would not have to worry about any beasts with the protection of these orcs. Nor did he have to worry about other orc tribes.

    ¡°Ok.¡± Forte replied.

    Daka grunted and pulled the strings tying Forte, releasing him.

    ¡°Good eats, now.¡± Daka said, pointing at the rations.

    ¡°Now.¡± Forte answered, taking out a pot from his caravan.

    Kekekekekekek¡­.

    Nightmare was laughing.

    Forte began cooking a stew of salted boar meat and vegetables, slowly simmering the stew above a fire as he prepared bowls. The orcs looked at him working in fascination. It was evening. Nightmare lounged on the lush grass, as Forte continued to cook. He finished the stew after the sun had set for two hours, and then beckoned the orcs to eat with him.

    ¡°Daka, good eats are done. Come, come.¡± Forte beckoned.

    Daka and a dozen or so orcs sat in a circle around the fire, and Forte distributed the bowls, ladling a hearty serving of stew to each of them.

    ¡°Eat, friends.¡± Forte encouraged them.

    The orcs ate their share and then some.

    ¡°Good eats!¡± Daka said.

    ¡°Good eats!¡± The orcs echoed.

    They asked for more servings, and Forte happily obliged. He thought it prudent to get on the good side of these beasts of war.

    ¡°I have to ask, what are the skulls lying around your huts? They look human, and yet not entirely. Are they human children? If so, how and where did you meet humans?¡± Forte asked.

    ¡°Skulls are dwarves.¡± Daka replied.

    ¡°I thought you spoke the dwarven language. Why do you fight?¡± Forte inquired.

    ¡°Sometimes, orcs make peace with little dwarves. Sometimes, orcs make war with little dwarves. Orc life is hard.¡± Daka responded tersely.

    ¡°That sounds like a complicated diplomatic situation.¡± Forte said.

    ¡°We raid dwarves, dwarves raid orcs. Such is orc life.¡± Daka said. An orc nudged Daka and grunted into his ear, then pointed at Forte. Daka nodded.

    ¡°Orcs have question. What is black beast with you? Breathes fire beast?¡± Daka questioned.

    ¡°Friends, that is my dragon Nightmare. And I have a question for you. How come fire doesn¡¯t work on you guys?¡± Forte questioned.

    Daka laughed. ¡°Slog fat on orc warrior¡¯s faces. Slogfat on orc warrior¡¯s bodies. Slogfat in orc warrior¡¯s hearts. Orc no burn.¡±

    Forte was amused. It was a simple and yet extremely effective tactic. Suddenly, the sound of a trumpeting horn rang through the settlement, accompanied by the sound of marching. The orcs immediately rose up and grunted to each other.

    Daka stood up and grunted. ¡°Dwarves. Help, friend.¡±

    Forte understood and retrieved his greatsword. Nightmare hissed and got ready for battle. They could conduct diplomacy with the dwarves at a later time. Today, they threatened his safety, and so he would kill them.

    The dwarves were a little taller than half of Forte. There looked to be a contingent of 24 dwarves. Four of them were archers, and the other 20 were armed with an assortment of shields, swords, maces, hammers, and axes. Their weapons and armor were made of finely smithed steel. The fifteen orcs and Forte and Nightmare clashed with the 24 dwarves in an awful din. The dwarves seemed surprised at the sight of a human and a dragon alongside the orcs, but fought them with increased vigor. Forte killed a dwarve with several blows of his gravitite greatsword, but a dwarf landed a denting blow to his torso iron plate armor with a steel hammer.

    Thankfully, his wyvern scaled gauntlets held up well, protecting his critical arms and the tender veins. Forte realized that the dwarves¡¯ smithing was so good that regular piercing weapons would not work against them. But his gravitite greatsword Blothe made quick work of the dwarves, denting and destroying the armor with large blunted blows. Forte¡¯s own plate armor could not protect himself from the blunted damage he was taking, which effectively pierced his armor.

    ¡°Get this ¡®un!¡± A dwarf shouted, attacking Nightmare. Nightmare shot into the sky and rained down a torrent of black fire. Unforunately, it seemed like the dwarves were also coated with some sort of animal fat. It made sense. In these lands where beasts roamed, fire was a common deterrent tactic. Both dwarves and orcs must have used fire against each other, and developed countermeasures. Thankfully, Nightmare was undamaged.

    As the fighting took course, a drop of rain fell from the sky. And then another. Before long,a storm had begun.

 Chapter 24: Songs of the Forest

    The horns sounded again. The dwarves immediately retreated, as did the orcs. Two death defying roars reverberated through the canyon, followed by the shrieks of smaller creatures. Two wingless wyverns were locked in deadly melee with a pack of raptors.

    The orcs charged.

    Daka roared. ¡°Meat!!!¡±

    Forte stood there stunned. He couldn¡¯t believe that the orcs actually challenged raptors and wyverns without a trace of hesitation. These orcs were no humans¡­ they were truly beasts of war. The orcs circled around the wyverns, driving them away with ritualistic grunts and ground stomps. The wyverns appeared confused and intimidated by the loud patterned ground thumping, and backed off slowly. Then the orcs faced the raptors and attacked two of them, leaving the rest of the pack to flee. Forte agreed with their strategy. Scaring away the beasts and only dealing with a few at a time was a good way of preserving their health.

    The orcs managed to drive off the remaining pack of raptors, while hauling over two dead raptors to butcher for later on. Forte was equally impressed and mortified at the systematic slaughter of raptors with such ease, without even using fire. He thought of how powerful an orc force would be if unleashed in the human domains. Any king with an orc army would be completely unstoppable. Forte smirked.

    They camped for the night. The orcs camped in the open, unafraid of any beasts. They were the hunters. Forte slept in the caravan, with an ease he had not felt for a long time. Nightmare snoozed besides him. Two dwarves out of the original twenty-four were killed last night, but there were no orc casualties.

    Forte shuddered when he realized just how long the orcs and dwarves had been at war with each other. Their bloodshed was written into legend.

    ----

    Vaun stirred a simmering broth in a black cauldron. He was in the town of Lievestrum, in a basement. He was brewing a slog poison, which could paralyze a slog for three hours via arrowtip. The potion and its ingredients were rare, but it was a highly sought after potion by rich families for their hunting trips to the western plains. Since his original capital gains with Forte of about 460 silvers, Vaun had bought potion ingredients and brewed difficult potions. He sold them to aristocrats and commoners alike, selling potions ranging from neurotoxins like the one he was brewing to tooth ache soothers. His original batch of ingredients costed 416 silver, which he turned into 582 silvers through hard work. Numerous batches later, and Vaun¡¯s fortune had begun. He had a tidy sum of 1153 silvers.

    Vaun thought of paying a visit to his father, but felt that it was too early. He was the bastard son of his father, a wealthy merchant, and a local whore. He¡¯d go back once he was just as rich as his father. And plus, big, exciting events were happening in the kingdom. The neighboring kingdom of Halfast was mobilizing its army, prompting the kingdom of Rottheim to follow suit. Halfast and Rottheim fought a war around 8 years ago, to a bloody stalemate. Both sides were still eager to spill blood. The king ordered seizure of all mithril deposits, ores, bars, and trade centers throughout the kingdom, leading to several revolts. Certain city states in both the Rottheim kingdom and Halfast kingdom had already declared their independence, and were mobilizing their own armies. Interesting times were about to unfold.

    ---

    Nightmare blinked. Forte was consulting with Daka, encouraging him with good eats to travel south with them. Daka eventually agreed, weighing heavily the possibility of delicious food in the future. Orcs were also nomadic by nature, and migration was nothing unheard of. Forte cooked another beef stew that night, and the clan began to move south.

    Forte noticed that creatures and beasts were getting stranger and stranger as they moved further south. They seemed like warped, mutated versions of benign creatures in the human domains. He speculated that they were warped by continuous exposure over generations to residue of strong dark magicks. He smirked. They were headed in the right direction.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The orcs seemed more restless the further south they traveled, but they managed to stay happy and keep their food down. They did not encounter any more dwarven regiments on their journey so far.

    Lush green forests were around everywhere the eye could see, but the flora and fauna had noticeable differences. Forte could¡¯ve sworn that an oak tree had grown an eye, but convinced himself that it was his imagination. Leaves swirled instead of growing in normal fractals. There was more than the occasional three eyed hare. The kams in the south were darker than their northern brethren, and bigger. It wasn¡¯t just the kams¡ªevery creature seemed slightly bigger.

    Nightmare continued to grow bigger as well. Forte had gained a foot in the last few years and was a sturdy young teenager, but Nightmare had just outgrown him. The once infant dragon was now looking like a proper dragon. The orcs enjoyed the company of Nightmare, but always seemed to keep a safe distance.

    Forte continued to practice his magic. He was becoming proficient in the usage of fire, and he could levitate a ball of water in the air for a minute now. He realized better magicians could use a smaller amount of stamina more efficiently than a novice magician.

    From the corner of his eye, Forte spotted a butterfly. He remember the spell Jorhan had used against him all that time ago. Fryza.

    ¡°Fryza.¡± He whispered.

    A small bolt of green energy shot from Forte¡¯s fingers towards the butterfly. In an instant, his knees wobbled and he fell to the ground. Something was wrong. An inordinate amount of stamina left his arms and legs, and he lay there panting. The butterfly fell as if it were plucked from the sky. Forte let go of the spell, and to his amazement, the butterfly began flying as if nothing happened.

    Panting, Forte reviewed what happened. He still could not figure out what the spell Fyrza was meant to do, but he knew that it was dangerous to try on bigger prey for now. Even using it on a butterfly nearly knocked him unconscious from the stamina drain. The spell was a bolt, that upon contact caused the butterfly to drop from the sky. However, when the spell ended, it resumed its flying, albeit looking a little strained. From that information, Forte speculated that the spell was some sort of stop command. He still couldn¡¯t understand why that particular spell required so much stamina to pull off though.

    The party was camped for the day, when the sound of a girl giggled could be heard. It sounded like children playing. The orcs looked uneasy, and Forte looked around quizzically. There could not be humans here, he thought. That would be impossible. But the girl did not sound like a dwarf either.

    Daka grunted. ¡°Elves.¡±

    Realization hit Forte like a clap of lightning. Dwarves and orcs were not the only races of legend that escaped extinction. Elves.

    Two girls, or what looked like girls with pointed ears and white hair, burst into the clearing. They looked horrified at the orc-human-dragon party, stopping their giggling and immediately running back. The sound of their screams rang through the entire twisted lush forest. Immediately, three elf guards appeared in the tree tops armed with notched bows. Two were female, one was male. The male elf signaled them back.

    ¡°Halt. Who passes through King Ivano¡¯s domain? Name yourselves!¡± The male elf declared.

    Forte stood up. ¡°My name is Forte Mott, this is my dragon Nightmare, and these orcs here are my friends. We mean no harm.¡±

    ¡°Human find magic place. We go south. Human give orcs good eats. We no harm elfies.¡± Daka added.

    The elf sneered. ¡°As if I would ever trust an orc. The human may pass. Your kind is prone to evil, but a single human is no threat to us. And we have not seen one of you for such a long time¡­ maybe it is time to put aside our prejudices between humans and elves. We are more alike than we are different. The orcs, however, must stay here. We cannot accommodate for orcs. As for the dragon¡­ surely you jest. There are no dragons left in Varia. It is said that the last dragon, a green one named Asura, died in our city eight centuries ago.¡±

    Nightmare held his head high and flew into the sky. He let out a bellow of red fire. The male elf screamed and dropped his weapon by accident.

    ¡°Do you believe me now?¡± Forte declared.

    The two female elves helped up the male elf, as he regained his composure.

    ¡°We-we must report this to King Ivano at once. A dragon is alive! And not just any dragon, a black one! This is a good omen, a day to celebrate!¡± The male elf exclaimed. ¡°Follow me. You may enter the city. Orcs, stay here. We will deal with you later.¡±

    Forte was amazed to see Nightmare had gained the ability to breath regular fire. He left the orcs a stash of food for them to enjoy while he left. He and Nightmare followed the male elf, whose name was Leif. They meandered through the haunting but lush forest, and in the thick of the forest was a bustling elf city. Leif talked to a guard, who was speaking to Leif but could not take his eyes off of Forte and Nightmare. Elves of all sorts stared at the newcomers. Clearly they had not seen foreigners in their city in centuries.

    The party entered the elven city of Istanbal.

    Author''s notes: What do you guys want to see in the elven city/elves in general?

 Chapter 25: The city of Istanbal

    ¡°I must take you lot to see King Ivano at once.¡± Leif said hastily. ¡°Elves have seen neither human nor dragon for centuries. We have hidden and forgotten for far too long, and considered the affairs of the outside world beyond our reach. It may be time that the elves reclaim the lands that are rightfully ours from the accursed orcs and dwarves. Tell me, where have humans gone in the past millennia?¡±

    ¡°We have moved to the far north, to the northern reaches of the Varian continent. Our ancestors once lived in southern Varia, but those times are no more.¡± Forte replied.

    ¡°North? Have they not heard the ancient prophecy of the great storm? The storm that will split the earth in two, and tear the sky into pieces? The second coming of Lord Ismas, who rides the black horses and brings with him wyverns and tyrant lizards to once again try to conquer Varia? The last time he arrived was nearly millennia ago, and he was driven back by the dragons and races of Varia. Alas, many dragons died in combat with the beasts, and the few that remained slowly died out. There are no dragons left to protect us from the storm.¡± Leif said while leading Forte down the winding streets of Istanbal. Nightmare floated along and billowed a puff of smoke. Leif laughed.

    Forte was struck at the way the forest blended into elven structures. Thick trees, thicker than he had ever seen before, were hollowed into shops and homes with windows. The shops sold some wares Forte was familiar with, such as intricate elven armor and swords, weaved tapestries, and treats. But other shops were completely foreign to him. One such shop had three levitating balls that slowly bobbed up and down and changed color. Another shop was selling what looked like strands of strange looking wands. The trees wound and twisted in fantastic ways, creating precarious bridges and a complicated pathway of wide branches to traverse the city. The elves all stopped and stared as Forte and Nightmare walked down the meandering pathways. Some young elves stared with curiosity, while older elves spat at their feet with looks of disgust on their face.

    ¡°I believe the knowledge of the prophecy was lost to the common human.¡± Forte replied. This was a lot of valuable information he was gathering.

    ¡°I heard that humans have also lost their magical capabilities after the old houses of Motley and Sinclair started that terrible war, all those years ago?¡± Leif questioned.

    ¡°Not quite. There are still magic practitioners amongst humans. They have dwindled in number, however, and the king has issued orders to persecute the most blatant evidence of witchcraft and the dark arts.¡±

    The trio passed by a small but fabulous looking bookstore. Forte glanced at the covers of the books. Memoirs of an Elven Sage. A Geneology of Raptors. A Guide to Basic Tree Weaving. Fairy Tales of the Motley-Sinclair. The Bestial Species of Orcs. A Guide to the Fascinating Beasts of Varia.

    ¡°Pah. Humans were once a great magical race. To tell me that they have fallen this far¡­ Tell me then, who is your current human king? The last human kings we had contact with were King Elmund Motley of house Motley, and king Alastar Sinclair of house Sinclair. They started the great human war. Terrible times, those were. All the races were sucked into a combat. The orcs sided with house Motley, us elves sided with house Sinclair, and the dwarves took the opportunity to expand their territories beyond that which they deserve.¡± Leif said.

    ¡°The current king of Rottheim is Richard III of house Barron, and the king of Halfast is Simon of house Talos.¡± Forte responded.

    Leif looked quizzical. ¡°I guess time has truly passed. I have neither heard of house Barron nor house Talos. Our current elven king is of the same royal family as it has been forever¡ªthe Ealdwin royal family. Our kind does not squabble amongst each other for the throne as your kind has done for centuries.¡± Leif looked contemptuous.

    They reached the center of the enormous elven city, to what Forte could only describe as a palace made of living oak. It was majestic in its own way, but instead of the human favorites of gold and steel and stone, the living oak palace was adorned with gleaming silver and royal blue orichalcum. Forte¡¯s eyes glinted with avarice.

    ¡°We are here. You are to address the king with respect. It is customary to bow to the king after he stands.¡± Leif explained to Forte.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Leif raised his hand and lifted his sleeve, revealing an intricate tattoo of the royal eleven house¡¯s insignia. The guards allowed Forte and Nightmare to pass, although they were clearly uneasy at Nightmare¡¯s presence. They walked into the palace and began ascending a long, winding staircase that was actually a silver plated thick tree branch. Every level of the staircase lead to a different door, but Leif ushered them onto the highest level. Nightmare cautiously levitated behind them.

    ¡°We are here.¡± Leif declared. Two guards stood in front of the king¡¯s door.

    "The king is busy." The guard declared.

    "Tell him I am here." Leif said, showing his tattoo again.

    The guards looked at each other and muttered, and then tentatively let the partythrough.

    King Ivano sat upon a throne of glistening silver and orichalcum, wearing a leafy crown of silver and holding a cup of wine. He was being served lunch by five servants. The king put down his utensils at the sight of the party, and the servants hurriedly set aside his plate. He wiped his mouth. By his side were an intricate silver sword, and a finely strung bow of willow. The king was of average build for an elf, and was nearing old age. His gray-white hair blew in the wind, as the top of the palace was partially open to the elements.

    ¡°Your majesty, I request an audience to present to you the human, Forte Mott, and his dragon Nightmare.¡±

    The elven king stood. Forte did not bow, and Leif shot him a warning glance.

    ¡°How many elves fell defending the house of Sinclair? How much of our blood war spilled? Fighting for a petty war? A human¡¯s war? No human shall enter the fair city of Istanbal again. Your kind is exiled. You are exiled. Leave, at once!¡± The elven king thundered.

    Leif looked exasperated. ¡°But sir, there is a dragon. We believed that the dragons had all fallen, and¡ª¡°

    "Begone! Shame on you Leif. I thought I taught you better." The elf king responded.

    The guards grunted. ¡°The king¡¯s orders.¡± They grabbed Forte and Leif by the shoulders and dragged them out of the royal palace. Nightmare followed his master.

    After leavingthe palace gates, Leif placed his hand on Forte¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Sorry, my friend. You must leave Istanbal. It is the king¡¯s wish. As a royal servant, I cannot go against the wishes of the king. You must understand, the elven Ealdwin royal family has suffered tremendously by the hands of humans, and human afffairs. I cannot blame my king for his outburst. It is somewhat justified.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡± Forte replied.

    Leif lead Forte and Nightmare to the southernmost gateof the city. He brought their caravan, and bid them farewell. The party left Istanbal.

    The dense elven forest made way for more fertile plains and light forestry. Forte and Nightmare continued their journey south, towards the Bay of Mists, the ancestral capital of Varia, where the powerfulmagical ancient line of humans, the Motley-Sinclairs, once lived. They saw more grass huts, a sign of orcs, but decided to avoid them for now. Forte was also careful to avoid any signs of dwarves. He learned from the orcs and the elves that dwarves were a warmongering race, and were readily trying to defend their existing territories while expanding their domains beyond their borders.

    Forte decided to camp for the night around a bit of forest that was defensible against beasts. He fell asleep with Nightmare curled up against him for warmth. The scales only hurt a little.

    Forte awoke with a start to the sounds of shouting and clanking metal in the distance, coming his way.

    ¡°Blast it, he¡¯s too strong!¡± A dwarf voice shouted.

    Both Forte and Nightmare went onto high alert. Despite their attempts to avoid dwarves, it seemed like some sort of battle was occurring. They went into stealth between the bushes, and crept up slowly to get a hill top view of the battlefield.

    It was a regiment of dwarves fighting against what looked like an army of orcs. An entire army. Forte spotted an extremely large orc in the battlefield, wearing a skull on his head and wielding a cumbersomely large iron mace. He surmised that that orc was a leader, either a general or even a king. This bothered him tremendously.

    From his understanding of orcs through his reading as a child in the Mott estate library, orcs were a tribal race of brutal beasts. They never fought together under one banner, and yet there were hundreds of orcs on the battlefield right now, fighting against less than a hundred dwarves. The dwarves were getting smashed left and right, and Forte assessed the situation. It was definitely not wise to get involved now. He would simply observe and see what exactly prompted the orcs to rally in such numbers. As the fighting went on, he realized that the answer was not a ¡°what¡±. It was a ¡°who¡±. The largest, towering orc was shouting commands to different sections of the army, and it seemed as if the orcs were still fighting in groups with their tribes. The large orc was the key. He had somehow unified the orcs into a singular fighting force. Forte could only surmise that he unified the orcs through sheer might and fighting prowess, and was looking for more orc tribes to subdue.

    A horn sounded through the plains. In the horizon, Forte saw a thousand dwarves marching, lead by a king. These kinds of battles, he had only read of in stories. The orcs and dwarves must have fought for territory like this for centuries upon centuries, Forte thought to himself. Incredible. He was witnessing history unfold in front of his very eyes.

 Chapter 26: The Rock of Gibraltar

    At the sound of the dwarven horns announcing the arrival of reinforcements, the remaining dwarves cheered and beat their weapons, while the orcs fought more voraciously. The reinforcing dwarves and their king poured down into the valley, brandishing their fearsome battle maces and hammers. They engaged the orcs at the bottom of the valley in a clash of such magnitude that it made the earth shake. The orcs pounded the ground with their feet after each kill, a sort of ritual that was terrifying for non-orcs.

    A stray dwarf started meandering towards Forte¡¯s hiding place with a battle-drunken walk, as if he were hit one too many times on the head. The battle-drunken dwarf was close. Nightmare lashed out and attacked, jaws closing on the dwarf¡¯s helmeted head. The dwarf defended feebly as Nightmare shook his prey. After a few moments, the dwarf slumped lifelessly. Nightmare dropped the corpse and returned to his hiding spot. Nightmare was a picky eater, and would not eat a dwarf in armor, who was both unsavory and difficult to eat due to the armor.

    The duo watched as the armies fought for hours on end. The orc leader was awash with blood, as was the dwarven king. Forte was impressed by the tenacity of both sides. The dwarves fought even when their bodies were clearly mangled, and the orcs were unstoppable monsters with the power of two if not three dwarves each. The short dwarves pounded the orc¡¯s legs and torsos with their hammers and maces, while the orcs swung down and split the dwarve¡¯s heads with their maces. However, the well crafted helmets of the dwarves saved many of their lives from orc blows to the head. Forte noticed that the dwarves all tended to have facial hair under their helmets, while the orcs wore barely any armor and had no facial hair either. They did have two stunted horns, however. The fight drew on in a long stalemate.

    Neither side had sustained heavy casualties, attesting to both dwarven craftsmanship of their armor, and the orc¡¯s thick skin and tough bodies. This was how they could fight for so many years without wiping each other out, Forte thought to himself. At the end of the day, the armies retreated. Bodies littered the battlefield, but they were not as numerous as Forte had first imagined.

    It was time to go, Forte decided. He and Nightmare would not get involved in the territorial wars of the orcs and dwarves. Instead, they would head to the Bay of Mists further south. He remembered Fabian Sinclair¡¯s warning about the Bay of Mists. He was to avoid the Isle of Sirens, and head for the Rock of Gibraltar.

    The weather became considerably foggier and darker as they continued their caravan journey down south, past dwarven and orc territory. The fertile plains turned into desolate fields of sparse shrubbery, and game to hunt was few and far in between. Forte and Nightmare took turns to hunt what animals were left, and supplemented their diet with rations.

    Forte¡¯s magic ability had improved steadily throughout their journey. He seemed to have a natural talent for magic. His command of Infernus was exceptional for a young mage. However, the Fyrza spell was still out of practical usage. Forte suspected that Fyrza was a spell of dark magic origins, and decided to practice it with increased caution.

    Nightmare continued to grow as well. He was larger than Forte now, and nearly the same size as a large orc. Forte smirked at the thought of his exceptionally powerful pet. If he were to put Nightmare on the F to S+ scale for pets, he was already exceeding S+. A combat pet that was this powerful was unheard of, unless you could train a wyvern, he thought. But who couldtrain a wyvern? Most pets were not combat oriented, and were used as work animals or just company.

    Forte thought of the different ways he could gain influence in northern Varia, the human domain. He would need a city, a military, and money to support it. Forte considered the ways he could procure a large amount of money. He needed to sell something valuable, to procure a resource. But the resource had to be available to only him and nobody else. He came up with a plan. Ores. There seemed to be an orichalcum vein somewhere in the wilderness south of human domain, in the area infested by raptors and wyverns. He just needed to locate a vein, and mine it. But he couldn¡¯t do it alone. He would need allies, or even servants.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Forte scratched the idea. He would need manpower to mine a vein, and those people could easily steal the precious metal ore for themselves. Nightmare levitated behind the caravan. Forte continued to think. He needed money to fund the upkeep for a military. A large sum of money. How else could he generate money? He could raid merchant caravans like he did in the past, but that was not a sustainable source of income, because the merchants would catch on and maybe even send a retaliation force. He could sell slaves, but then he would first have to capture slaves, and the process was difficult. He would require an entire production line like Count Forien had to take a runaway slave from the plains to the the market.

    And there was his final idea¡ªa city. That was a dream for now. Eventually he would do so, but it required so many resources that he simply did not have at his disposal at the moment.

    Forte stopped the caravan. They had reached a large body of water, and there was no land further south. Of course this would happen, he thought. He had a rudimentary idea of the lay of the area due to the map in The Origins of Dark Magic, and the Bay of Mists was on an island chain. Forte decided to build a boat. Using a combination of his gravitite sword and Nightmare¡¯s fire, he managed to fell a few oak and maple trees. Using the logs, he began fashioning himself a small makeshift raft that would fit him and Nightmare. The bay was an hour away, and Forte reasoned that the raft should hold for that amount of time.

    Nightmare suddenly snorted, and belched out a burst of fire onto the partially completed raft. The would-be raft caught fire and started to smolder. It was unusable.

    ¡°Hey! What was that for?¡± Forte shouted angrily.

    Nightmare rolled around, and motioned with his head towards his back. Forte understood. Nightmare would fly there.

    ¡°Are you sure about this? Can you support me for an hour?¡± Forte questioned tentatively.

    Nightmare nodded.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do this.¡± Forte said. He tied the horses and the caravan to a tree with access to food and water, and brought with him a few days worth of rations.

    He climbed onto Nightmare¡¯s back, and immediately felt the scales digging into his thighs.

    ¡°Ouch.¡± He yelped in pain. Forte cut open a portion of the caravan¡¯s wagon and used the leather as a crude saddle, and then mounted his dragon with considerably less pain.

    Without a word, Nightmare took off. Forte held on desparately to his dragon¡¯s neck as they tried flying. Whenever Nightmare flew too fast, Forte urged him to slow down or he would fall. The clumsy duo eventually got into a rhythm, and took off in the direction of the Bay of Mists. Before long, they heard the sound of what seemed like women singing in beautiful and tempting voices. However, because of their altitude, the voices were distorted and Forte did not fall for their spell. Forte looked down and saw what appeared to be beautiful, scantily clad mermaids swimming near an isle. He realized that he was looking at the Isle of Sirens. In the next few isles, as he hung onto Nightmare for his dear life, he began to see large ruins of a long forgotten kingdom. Tall castles stood shattered and weathered, while what looked like towns were worn down with the wind and unpopulated for centuries. Forte felt like he was reading a map from his bird¡¯s eye point of view. Nightmare swooped down for a seagull, nearly flinging Forte off his back.

    ¡°Cut that out or I¡¯ll fall. Seriously.¡± Forte chided.

    Before long, they saw the outline of a large protruding rock, the Rock of Gibraltar, their destination. The castle at the top of the rock had collapsed, and there was only one building left standing¡ªa strange tower a few miles away from the castle.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go to that tower. I believe that is where we will unravel the secrets of these ruins.¡± Forte said to Nightmare.

    Nightmare slowly descended in the direction of the tower. The weather was cloudy and dark, without rain. They stopped in front of the tower. It was a menacing ancient tower of weathered stone blocks, four stories high. I urge you to avoid the Isle of Sirens, and reach the Rock of Gibraltar. It is there, where everything that is unclear shall become clear. Forte smiled as he remembered Fabian Sinclair¡¯s words in The Origins of Dark Magic. They had reached their destination, and all the secrets of the place would be revealed. Forte and Nightmare approached the stone door, which Forte opened. Inside was an dank, empty room.

    An unfamiliar presence suddenly entered Forte¡¯s mind and bludgeoned his consciousness. Beside him, Nightmare growled.

    ¡°Welcome to the trial of cunning.¡± A deep voice said, speaking directly into their minds.

 Chapter 27: The Three Trials

    The voice echoed in his mind. ¡°Welcome to the trial of cunning.¡±

    The room began to vibrate as the floor shifted into a staircase leading down. Forte lit a torch with magic, and began the descent with Nightmare. On the next level, he saw four ethereal skeletons dressed in pirate garb chained to the wall. A few of the skeletons still had their scimitars in hand. Behind the skeletons was a door.

    ¡°These pirates tried to loot this tower six centuries ago. They are still paying for their sins with eternal torture of their souls. You need to get through that next door behind the pirates. Do you walk through them, or around them?¡± The voice asked.

    Forte¡¯s eyes darted around. This was a test of cunning, he thought, so there must be a trick. He walked around the room and examined every corner. As he suspected, there was blood on the wall for people who failed the test and were killed trying to walk around the skeletons, as well as blood on the floor from people who failed the test and were killed trying to walk through the skeletons. Neither answer provided by the voice was the right answer. Forte racked his brain, trying to think of a solution to the trial. There was nothing in the room besides the ghostly pirate skeletons and their shackles. Was he supposed to destroy the skeletons?

    No, he thought. The skeletons would probably attack back. He decided on another option. Forte motioned Nightmare back, and then prepared himself.

    ¡°Ariz vallan.¡± He chanted. He poured a small amount of his stamina into the ethereal pirates, enough for them to move, but not enough for them to be a threat.

    The pirate skeletons moved slightly, and began to talk. ¡°Save us¡­ save us from this eternal torture. We will do anything.¡±

    Forte smirked. Anything, they said. ¡°Will you serve me forever?¡±

    ¡°Yes¡­ yes¡­ anything to stop the torture.¡± The pirates moaned. ¡°Anything at all.¡±

    ¡°Serve me until the end of days, pirates. Do that, and I shall free you.¡±

    ¡°We will¡­ we will¡­¡± the pirates groaned.

    Forte weighed the chances that the pirates would betray him, but deemed it a small risk he should undertake. He had Nightmare with him, and he thought he could take the fight if it happened. He drew his gravitite greatsword and broke the shackles, one by one. The pirates did not attack when they were freed, they merely sat there with the shackles in their hands, in complete disbelief. Forte was content. These ghostly pirates could be his first servants.

    ¡°Who do you serve?¡± Forte asked.

    ¡°We¡­ we serve you, our savior! Thank you! You have no idea how hellish it was here, our souls being tortured for eternity. You have our eternal gratitude. We will serve you until the day our bones crumble into dust.¡± A pirate responded.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Now address me as lord.¡± Forte said.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Yes... my lord.¡± The pirates mumbled in unison. ¡°We are forever in your debt.¡±

    The pirates had regained the flesh that they had when they were alive once. They introduced themselves as Cook, a very fat pirate, Thomas Tew, a thin but built pirate, Blackbeard, a lumbering giant, and Jack, a pirate with an eye patch and medium build. The pirates noted that although they could not be killed, their corporeal form was tied to this world by their debt to Forte, and thus they could only sustain their bodies for seven hours a day or until they were destroyed. Their forms would regenerate the next day, regardless of what occurred the day before. After acknowledging this, Forte, Nightmare, and the pirates walked into the next room.

    ¡°You have passed the trial of cunning. Now you will face the trial of might. If you defeat the golem, you may proceed.¡± The deep voice said.

    The next room was flanked by pillars, and a giant, inanimate stone golem stood in the middle. With a thud, the golem came to life.

    ¡°Arrr¡­¡± Cook growled, as the ethereal pirate squad began their attack. Forte and Nightmare both launched at the golem. The pirates attacked with their scimitars and took the brunt of the damage. Luckily, the ethereal pirates were unkillable, although they were not so much as scratching the stone golem. Forte decided that they were excellent meat shields. Forte heaved and smashed his gravitite greatsword into the stone golem, chipping away at the golem bit by bit. Nightmare tackled and breathed molten fire on the dragon, clawing and biting away at the stone.

    The golem slammed Cook and Tew onto the ground, destroying their corporeal forms. Forte and Blackbeard chipped away at the golem until its arm and part of its body was gone. That¡¯s when Forte noticed a black gem in the middle of the golem. He swung his sword at the gem, destroying it in one blow and causing the golem to collapse into a heap of rubble. Forte smiled at his progress. He had obtained the help of four extremely loyal and combat efficient servants that could work tirelessly and could never die, although they only lasted for seven hours or until their bodies were destroyed. He walked through the next door.

    ¡°You have passed the trial of might. Now you will face the trial of blood. It is not too late to turn back, for if your blood does not run thick, you will not prove worthy.¡± The voice said.

    The next room was empty except for a table with a single blood red amulet inside a basin on top of it. Forte examined the amulet.

    ¡°This is the amulet of my master, his majesty Elmund Motley. Only those whose blood runs thick shall prove worthy to wear it.¡± The deep voice spoke directly into Forte¡¯s mind.

    Forte reached for the amulet, but an invisible barrier prevented him from touching it. Forte examined the magic barrier. Nothing could touch the bottom of the basin, not Nightmare, not his sword, nor his pirate¡¯s scimitar.

    ¡°This is the amulet of my master, his majesty Elmund Motley. Only those whose blood runs thick shall prove worthy to wear it.¡± The deep voice repeated, louder.

    Forte understood what he had to do. He rolled up his sleeve and took his pirate¡¯s scimitar, then made a shallow horizontal cut aross his arm. Blood spilled out from his arm and splattered into the basin beneath. It seemed as if blood was the only thing able to pass the barrier. Forte continued to let blood out, and the amulet began to float in the pool of blood. Forte ceased the bleeding, and reached his hand into the basin. With a shaky hand, he took out the amulet.

    It was a circular cut ruby, inside a golden ring of casing, with the words Property of the House of Motley engraved into the gold.

    He flipped the amulet around and examined the back. It had a familiar sigil on it. In fact, too familiar, Forte thought. It was the Mott family sigil of two crossing white swords.

    He put the amulet on.

    ¡°You have passed the trial of blood, Lord Motley.¡± The thundering voice announced. ¡°You are the blood heir to the royal house of Motley. The amulet is a family heirloom, the Amulet of Darkness, and will serve you well, as it once served my master Elmund Motley.¡±

 Chapter 28: The Amulet of Darkness

    Forte felt a surge of energy rush into his body from the pendant.

    Rumble.

    ¡°Infernus!¡± He shouted, extending his palm. An intense blaze of heat shot from his palm towards the wall. He casted the spell again. And again. He casted Infernus on Blackbeard, and then on Jack, melting away their corporeal forms as if they were sand. He felt powerful like never before.

    Rumble.

    The tower had started to collapse. Forte rushed upstairs with Nightmare, making it out just in time.

    How could he have known. How could have known that he was the descendant of the original royal family of Motley-Sinclair. The evidence had always been staring at him in the face, but it just dawned on him now. His father never explained where he obtained his wealth, or why nobody else in the kingdom had the last name of Mott. Forte¡¯s thoughts never dwelled on these things, as he was busy reading fairy tales and daydreaming. Lo and behold, he had become part of the very tales he read. He was a living legend, a relic of a lost time, of a house of great magical ability.

    The Amulet of Darkness seemed to lift his magic to unknown heights. He was stunned¡­ this amulet violated the First Principle of Magic. But then, who wrote those silly principles in the first place, he thought. Mages without vast power. He continued to cast fireballs with glee.

    Amidst his tirade of spells, he began to feel pale and ill. Nightmare circled the skies above, his version of displaying concern. Forte¡¯s mind began to race. What was the Amulet of Magic taking as sacrifice, instead of only stamina? After narrowing down the possibilities, he came to an obvious realization. The pendant was fueling the magic with a combination of his stamina and his royal blood. Forte ceased his spell casting and sat down with wobbly knees. He needed something to eat. Preferably something with meat.

    ¡°Catch a hare for me, will you Nightmare? I need to eat.¡± He whispered to his dragon. He was feeling pale and drained.

    Nightmare nodded and took off. Forte gripped the coat around him. He felt cold. And thus was the price of dark magic, he noted. He lit a fire with his hands and warmed them. Nightmare returned soon after, with a wild boar in his jaws. He dropped the boar at Forte¡¯s feet, and Forte prepared a spit. They feasted on the tender boar meat, and then slept on the Rock of Gibraltar. Because of its isolation from the mainland and the unpleasant remnantsof dark magic, there were no predators here, and they could sleep easy.

    Forte arose early the next day. He was worried for his caravan horses, which he left tied to a tree with food and water to drink. He hoped the horses had not died in the days they were gone. But first, they had to investigate the ruins of the castle, in hopes of finding anything useful. When Nightmare woke up, they finished the rest of the wild boar and then Forte mounted Nightmare, ready to take off to the castle ruins. It was a dark and cloudy day, and fog permeated everywhere.

    Forte had gotten used to flying on dragonback now, and they flew for an hour before reaching their destination. The castle was in shambles from what seemed like a large scale battle. Bits of armor and spears still peeked out from the dirt, but time had covered its tracks well. The castle ceiling had collapsed, and it was nearly impossible to squeeze in, but Forte and Nightmare managed. He lit a torch, and they proceeded.

    He noticed that most of the valuables had been looted, but some things remained. With the help of Nightmare, he managed to move a few stone pillars that were blocking a room in the treasury. Within it, they found 6344 silvers in a centuries old chest that they broke open¡ªthey were rich! Forte quickly stashed the silver into Nightmare¡¯s pack, and the duo continued to explore the castle ruins. After all, Forte reasoned, these treasures all rightfully belonged to him as a direct descendant. He would buy new clothing and new equipment with that money once they headed back north.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The previous looters had cleaned out most of the castle, and Forte only found a few dusty tomes to compensate. The Art of Dwarven Smithing, and Elvish Tales. Forte did not find them particularly interesting, although he noted that elves were once close to humans, before the heir of the Motley family began to enslave the females as expensive and delicate sex slaves. That was what caused the elves to side with the Sinclair family during the great war. Forte was ashamed but also impressed by the actions of his forefathers.

    Forte scoured the rest of the castle remains, and found nothing but piles upon piles of skeletons, forever immortalized in their battle. He guessed that those skeletons were vestiges of the great Motley-Sinclair war, as he found a ring with the Sinclair sigil of a white lamb on one of the skeletons. Forte still could not figure out why the two great houses went to war with each other, after living in harmony for such a long time. He figured that Elmund Motley survived the battle, building the tower to select someone worthy enough, with or without his own blood, to become his heir. He must have known he was dying if he was that desparate to find an heir, Forte mused.

    The party left the castle ruins and camped for the night. Nightmare hunted for food, bringing back a kam with two stubby tails, another variation from the norm caused by echoes of ancient dark magic cast in the vicinity.

    The next day, Forte took off on the back of Nightmare, as they headed back to the caravan. He was relieved to see that the two horses were still alive and well after the days they were gone, despite looking extremely frightened. Forte untied the horses, deposited the silver and tomes he had collected into the caravan, and readied up the caravan for travel. Although the dark magic aura from the isles and the bleak landscape resulting from it discouraged predators, they would potentially run into more beasts as they travelled further north.

    He needed to do some planning. He was not allowed passage through the elven city of Istanbal, but it was necessary to get past that forest to reach the north. He considered flying with Nightmare, but that could get interpreted as an act of war by the elves, and cause them to fire arrows at them whilst they were in the air.

    Forte was stumped. He needed to somehow bypass Istanbal, but even stepping foot into that forest was probably grounds for the elves to skewer him with arrows, he thought. The only plausible solution he could think of was to fly on the outskirts of the forest, avoiding the heart of Istanbal, and hopefully avoiding every arrow. Forte disliked the elven king for being so rude to him, but after learning what his predecessors had done to the elves, he admitted that the king was correct to not grant audience to a human, and to be suspicious of humans in general.

    Speaking of royalty, Forte now knew that his own family was fallen royalty. He had a gnawing suspicion that the discovery of their blood heritage during the king''svisit to the Mott estate was what caused the king to order the deaths of his family. He saw them as a threat to his sovereignty. Forte would have to lay low for now, and not reveal his true name until it was the right time. He wondered, if he was a living descendant of house Motley, was there a living descendant to house Sinclair? He shook his head. One miracle was enough.

    Forte and Nightmare began their trip northwards, towards the eastern outskirts of the forest. Hopefully they could bypass the forest without any injury, he thought. He considered using the pirates as decoys, but did not want to put the elves on alert for any reason. Ghostly human pirates would definitely cause an alarm. As he rode the caravan, Forte began to read The Art of Dwarven Smithing.

    --

    Vaun read the news as he stirred his potion. The king is offering seven hundred silvers for every bar of mithril. He snorted, that was impossible. The king had already spent an inordinate amount of silver on commissioning mithril armor and weapons for approximately twenty percent of his soldiers. The rest of the soldiers still wore steel or iron.

    Trouble brews in the kingdoms of Rottheim and Halfast! Local rebellions shake both Rottheim and Halfast. This particular piece of news interested him. Because the kingdoms were so preoccupied with mobilizing to defeat each other, local dukes, counts, and mayors had declared their cities as independent of the kingdom, and were already mustering up their own defense force independent of the royal army. Adith was one such city, as the mayor of Adith raised taxes by an extra fifteen percent on all goods entering and exiting the city to fund military expenses. Unfortunately for the mayor, the raptor attack on Adith had reduced the town¡¯s population by 20% as people fled the city for safety. Vaun heard reports that a storm was slowly creeping in from the west.

 Chapter 29: Dwarven Miners

    Forte began reading The Dwarven Art of Smithing. The tome was in bad shape, having weathered centuries of decay. Fortunately, some text was still legible.

    Dwarves have mastered the craft of smithing over the millennia. Their hammers are an extension to their soul, and dwarven master smiths can weave metal as if it were thread¡­................... the different properties of metals.

    Iron is the most basic metal. It is tough, durable, and can slice through enemies when crafted into a sword, or block even the most vicious piercing attacks when crafted into armor. Then came the invention of steel by dwarves. Through their experimentations with the smelting of iron ore and coal, a tougher version of iron can be created.

    Mithril is a rare gray metal with a hint of blue, that is considerably harder than iron. This metal is prize by any respectable military, and afew mithril weapons have the potential to turn the tide of a battle. Orichalcum is a light turquoise ore that is as rare compared to mithril, as mithril is rare compared to iron. It is slightly harder than mithril, although a well forged mithril blade can sill destroy a poorly crafted orichalcum blade.

    Silver is an expensive metal to craft arms with, but a favorite of elven kings. Depending on the craftsmanship, a silver sword can be better or worse than a mithril sword.

    And then there is the legendary ore known as gravitite. The dwarves have control over the last reserves of gravitite ore in the world, an ore that is harvested from the molten lava of a volcano and tempered with the fire of a wild dragon. It is rightfully theirs, as humans, elves, and orcs have all failed to temper the volcanic metal. Few swords have been made with this ore, but the few that have been forged are rumored to be heavier and tougher than mastercrafted mithril swords¡­

    Forte closed the tome and took a nap. When he woke up, he could see the forest of Istanbal from a far distance. The landscape had begun to change from bleak shrubbery into lush greens.

    They rode for a few more days, and reached the edge of the forest. Forte decided to leave his caravan at the edge of the forest, fashioning a large sack from what was left of the wagon for Nightmare to carry their belongings. He boarded his dragon, and they set off, soaring above the lush green forest. Almost immediately, a horn sounded, and the sounds of yelling from the outskirts of Istanbal could be heard. Forte looked down and saw elves rushing at them with bows.

    ¡°Faster, Nightmare. Fly faster!¡± He urged.

    Nightmare laboriously flapped his wings, cutting through the air as the first slew of arrows were launched at them. Nightmare winced as a single arrow bounced off his underbelly, but continued to fly. After they lost the first group of archers, a second group caught up and fired more arrows. Two arrows managed to puncture the thin membrane of Nightmare¡¯s wings. He lost some altitude, but continued to fly. They continued like this for another hour, leaving the elven archers behind. At the northern edge of the forest, Nightmare slumped to the ground and rested, panting. Forte applied basic healing salves he brought with him onto the punctures in Nightmare¡¯s wings to soothe his wounds.

    He had expected this kind of greeting by the elves. What concerned him was that the elves seemed to be expanding their territorial ambitions as well to the outskirts of the forest. They seemed to be immediately ready to intercept him, meaning that king Ivano had ordered armed scouts to patrol the outskirts of their domain. It looked like all the races were bound for conflict at this rate.

    They continued their travels the next day, after Nightmare rested. Forte heard the familiar clash of orcs and dwarves, and circumvented the battlefield. They flew towards the north. Suddenly, Forte spotted a small group of dwarves mining a vein of ore. His eyes lit up with greed.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Let¡¯s check that out, Nightmare. It might be orichalcum.¡± He whispered to his dragon.

    Nightmare descended, a sight that scared the dwarves tremendously. Forte counted three of them.

    ¡°You catch those two, since you¡¯re faster. I¡¯ll take down this one. Go! Before they inform their dwarven friends!¡± Forte shouted.

    Nightmare pounced at the two scurrying miners while Forte took on the remaining one.

    ¡°What are you doing me friend? We was just mining ¡®er, not minding nobody¡¯s business. We didn¡¯t hurts no one!¡± The dwarf whimpered.

    ¡°Sorry, friend. This isn¡¯t personal.¡± Forte said, extending out this palm.

    ¡°Fyrza.¡±

    Forte¡¯s amulet lit up, and his eyes glowed icy blue. A bolt of green energy shot out from Forte¡¯s hand and smote the cowering dwarf in the back, immediately making him freeze in his tracks. The dwarf¡¯s veins began to show. Forte leapt at him while drawing his greatsword, swinging down and connecting with the dwarf¡¯s shoulder. The dwarf buckled. Forte attacked him a few more times, until the dwarf slumped lifelessly. Meanwhile, Nightmare made quick work of the two dwarves, having ripped one in half with his jaws, and burned the other alive, leaving a grisly scene. Slogfat dripped from the burned dwarve''s body. It looked like Nightmare roasted him for a while, to get through the insulative slogfat.

    Forte noted that Fyrza was castable while wearing the Amulet of Darkness, although it seemed to still drain quite a bit of stamina and blood. He would need to refine his energy usage to become more efficient. It was something he would consider practicing later.

    Forte peeked at the ore the dwarves were mining and cursed. It was merely coal. He looted the dwarves¡¯ bodies, discovering 126 silvers and a ragged parchment scroll. He unrolled the scroll and read.

    Gritwort, I have discovered an orichalcum vein near the valley of the hill giants. We are having trouble removing the giants. The buggers are strong. Please send reinforcements. ¨CYour friend, Hamwick.

    Forte frowned. He had never heard of hill giants before. He grasped his pendant and summoned his ethereal pirates.

    ¡°Blackbeard, Jack, Cook, and Tew. I want you to split up into four directions and find this ¡®valley of hill giants¡¯, and then report back to me with your findings. Good luck.¡± He commanded.

    ¡°As you wish, my lord.¡± Blackbeard responded, as the ghostly pirates split into various directions and headed off.

    It was convenient having these servants, he thought. Their strongest asset was their loyalty to him. He had saved them from eternal torture, and thus they were eternally grateful. The perfect servants.

    Forte made camp as he waited for the news. He and Nightmare hunted together for a slog, and skewered the slog carcass over a spit. They were cooking the slog, when he heard a scratching noise. Forte and Nightmare went into alert, as four raptors entered the clearing.

    ¡°Infernus.¡± He muttered, as an orb of flame appeared on top of his left palm, which he levitated carefully in the air. In his right hand, he casually propped the heavy gravitite greatsword on the ground. Forte was now 15, and his body had become that of a man¡¯s, but he still could not wield the greatsword singlehanded. The raptors looked on cautiously. Nightmare belched out a wisp of fire, and the raptors fled. They knew that they had met more than their match, and dragons were their natural predator.

    Nightmare was also growing at an accelerated pace. He now stood more than a head taller than Forte, and was showing the signs and dignity of a proper dragon. His golden eyes pierced his prey as his black scales shimmered in the moonlight. They were a proper dragon and dragon knight duo, a class combination that disappeared a long time ago with the decline of the dragons. Even then, the class was rare, because tamed dragons were few and far in between, while wild dragons were plentiful and roamed the land. In addition, dragon knights were typically warriors and not warrior mage hybrids.

    They continued their meal. For added precaution, Forte surrounded the camping grounds with small fires, which would deter all sorts of beasts. The pirates returned from their expedition.

    ¡°I found a lake with fish of gold, but no valley of hill giants.¡± Cook reported.

    ¡°I found a cave with a large bear, but no valley of hill giants.¡± Tew echoed.

    ¡°Arr, shut up you dimwits. I found the valley of hill giants. It¡¯s an hour southwest of here. There are many giants living in the valley, you can¡¯t drive them all off.¡± Blackbeard reported.

    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡± Forte replied. ¡°I have my ways. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    As their seven hours were up, the corporeal forms of the pirates dissipated into the air. Forte and Nightmare slept for the night, and prepared for their journey towards the valley of hill giants.

 Chapter 30: Founding the city of Avalon

    At dawn, the party began their journey towards the valley of hill giants. Forte mounted his dragon, and they flew back towards the south west. Before long, they spotted a valley teeming with burly giants that stood as tall as three orcs. Forte frowned, this would not be as easy as he had imagined. He first needed to establish if the giants had intelligence, or if they shared the same language, although he doubted it. There were so many giants that straight up violence wouldn¡¯t work. He had to use his brain.

    Forte considered his options. He didn¡¯t need to kill the hill giants, he merely had to relocate them. And thus, he needed to find out what was keeping them in this particular valley. He called upon his pirate companions for reconnaissance and consultation.

    They began to investigate the area. He noticed that the hill giants slept on the grass, and spent their time herding a flock of lambs. The lambs were the majority of the hill giant¡¯s food. Forte watched as the hill giants casually knocked away wolves and the occasional raptor that tried to poach a lamb. At night, a single hill giant kept the lambs safe from predators.

    His pirates reported that the giants did in fact speak the same language as them, but a very slow version. Plans started forming in Forte¡¯s head.

    He considered looking for toxic berries and poisoning their livestock, but the quantity of toxin was barely enough to kill a small animal, much less a towering hill giant. He had a better plan.

    ¡°Pirates, listen. We are going to scare the hill giants into leaving, by convincing them that there is a fire breathing devil that comes out every night, and steals lambs, and the only way they can stop the devil is by leaving the valley. Pirates, you will relay the message, since you are already ghosts and will add to the effect. Nightmare, you will fly around and intimidate the hill giants, and then swoop in to steal a lamb every night. Make sure to breath enough fire to get the message across.¡±

    ¡°Aye, sounds like a plan.¡± Blackbeard replied. Nightmare nodded.

    They waited for the moon to come out and for all but one of the giants to fall asleep, and then put the plan into action.

    The pirates sauntered into the clearing.

    ¡°Who¡­ you?¡± The lone awake hill giant asked.

    ¡°We areeeeeee the ghostsssssssss of the valleyyyyyyy. You will lose one lambbbbb every night to the fire breathing devilllll¡­¡± The pirates said.

    ¡°No ghosts. Me smash.¡± The hill giant walked up to the ghost pirates and smashed down with his fist, destroying their corporeal forms.

    At that moment, Nightmare bellowed fire from the heavens, causing the hill giant to look up. The dragon then swooped down and stole a lamb before the giant could react, belching a plume of flames as he left.

    The hill giant beat his chest and shouted in anger, waking up the other hill giants.

    ¡°Gromp, what wrong?¡± A hill giant asked.

    ¡°Fire ghost steal lamb!¡± Gromp replied in anger. ¡°Lamb stolen!¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°No fire ghost, Gromp. Sleep now.¡± The hill giant responded.

    Gromp hit the ground with anger, and continued to watch over the lambs.

    Forte congratulated his party on the job well done, and then camped for the night. He spent the next day hunting and practicing magic, and then waited for the moon to rise again. As the giants fell asleep again, only one giant lay awake, watching over the lambs. It was Gromp again.

    The pirates walked up and began to sing. ¡°Leave this valleyyyyyyy. Leaveeee, or you will lose one lamb a nighttttttt.¡±

    Gromp stood up and shouted. ¡°Lamb steal! Gromp smash! Smash now!¡±

    Gromp, who was armed with a club today, walked over and smashed the ground where the ethereal pirates stood. Their physical bodies were destroyed. However, Forte instructed one pirate to stay back tonight. He waited for another hour, and then summoned Blackbeard.

    Blackbeard walked up and repeated what his brethren said. Gromp looked absolutely enraged, and walked forwards to smash him. At that moment, a black dragon puffed a ball of fire at the hill giant and rushed for a lamb, snatching it by the neck.

    Gromp roared, waking up a few other hill giants.

    ¡°Lamb, stolen! Fire ghost steal! Rahh!!¡± Gromp beat his chest, and slammed his mace on the ground repeatedly.

    ¡°Gromp, me watch. You sleep.¡± A hill giant said.

    Gromp grunted and went to bed. The hill giant watched for fire ghosts and other intruders.

    Forte decided to wait for tomorrow to continue the plan. They camped for the day, hunting and practicing swordsmanship. Forte sparred with Blackbeard, who he deemed the most useful out of the four pirates. Blackbeard¡¯s swordsmanship was not to be looked down upon, although his ghostly scimitar was constantly broken by Forte¡¯s gravitite greatsword. Whenever the scimitar broke, Blackbeard would exhaust an hour of his physical form to generate a new one.

    Finally, it was night time. The pirates went to work.

    ¡°Leave this valleyyyyyyyyyyy. Leaveee, or you shall regret it. You will lose twoooooo lambs tonightttt.¡± The pirates chanted.

    The new giant guard looked completely perplexed, after realizing that Gromp was not imagining things. Nightmare swooped down and breathed black fire on the giant¡¯s eyes, blinding him, and scratched at his eyes. The giant bellowed in pain. Nightmare stole two lambs, one by one, by the neck. After that, Forte decided to retire his pawns for that night.

    The next morning, Forte observed the hill giants talking to each other. The guard from last night had a nasty scratch mark on his left eye, and scorch marks over his face. After much deliberation, the hill giants began leaving the valley, taking their livestock with them, clearly spooked by the invincible ghosts and the fire breathing demon that put out one giant¡¯s eye.

    Forte smirked. His plan was successful. The party settled in for the day, and then Forte started looking for the orichalcum vein. He found it before long, next to an abandoned pickaxe and a dwarvern boot with the mangled leg still inside, with clear bite marks. Apparently the hill giants had found the dwarves mining, and ate at least one of them.

    It was a small vein from the surface, but Forte trusted the dwarves¡¯ intuition. The turquoise vein probably ran much deeper. Forte swung at the orichalcum ore, and marveled at how tough it was to mine. He would have to have the pirates working on it every day to mine even a sliver of the precious ore. Forte gave the commands to the pirates, and they started work on mining. Forte smiled. These ethereal pirates were the only people he could truly trust with this work, as a normal human would steal the precious metal for himself once it was mined.

    With the help of his ghostly companions and Nightmare, Forte felled a few oak trees and managed to build a small log hut. This was where they would stay for now. Forte felt like it had the makings of a mining outpost, and decided to name it.

    He named the outpostAvalon.

    It was nearly a month away by horse from any human settlement, but Forte decided that that was the best case scenario. If it was too close, the kingdom would surely want to get their grubby hands on the orichalcum, Forte thought.

    The total current inhabitants of Avalon were six, including a human, a dragon, and four ghosts, but Forte was confident that it would grow. Two days passed, and the pirates barely mined a small chunk of orichalcum ore that was smaller than Forte¡¯s palm. It was a start, he thought.

 Chapter 31: The Free City of Adith

    Times were not easy in the mining outpost, Avalon. The pirates had no experience mining, and progress was dreadfully slow. Orichalcum was also extremely difficult to extract, and Forte had to face a whole new challenge¡ªdwarven raids. Angered by the murders of their brethren Gritwort and Hamwick at the hands of Forte and Nightmare, the relatives and close friends of those dwarves began to attack what could pathetically be called a town, a few log houses storing ores. Nightmare mercilessly slaughtered the dwarves as they came, while Forte helped occasionally.

    Forte was also lacking smelting equipment, so all the party could do was mine ores. Their pickaxes were wearing thin. Forte would have to pay a visit to Rottheim, and visit the human merchants. Avalon desperately needed new steel pickaxes, smelting, and smithing equipment.

    The problem was that Forte could no longer bring Nightmare to the human domain and easily explain him away anymore. Nightmare would have to stay in Avalon.

    Forte could communicate simple emotions and commands such as ¡°come¡± or ¡°stay away¡± via his magical bond with his dragon, which would have to suffice. Thankfully, due to a bond ability beyond Forte¡¯s understanding, Nightmare could always find him if he needed. The bond between a dragon and his master ran deep.

    Pirates Jack, Cook, and Tew were to stay at Avalon with Nightmare to continue mining orichalcum while defending the settlement from dwarves. They had discovered a nearby iron ore vein as well as the coal vein from the first dwarf mining area Forte destroyed, and so with the proper smithing materials, Avalon could start producing steel.

    Forte stored the soul of Backbeard into his amulet, just in case something happened and he needed him. He mounted Nightmare and packed the silvers he had collected throughout his adventures, and flew off north towards the human domains. A month long trip by horseback would only take a week on dragonback.

    Their journey was smooth. They hunted during evening, and flew during the day. Any stray packs of raptors were driven off by Forte¡¯s fire magic or Nightmare¡¯s fire breathing. Before long, Forte reached the human outskirts.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you, buddy. Sorry I can¡¯t take you along.¡± Forte said to Nightmare. The dragon scoffed and flew off to the south, towards Avalon.

    Forte began the second leg of his journey alone.

    He headed to the nearest town and bought a basic horse with a wagon caravan for 538 silvers. He had 7470 silvers remaining after the purchase. In his inventory, he also had two small chunks of orichalcum to sell. They would total to approximately 700silvers to the right buyer. To purchase mining and smithing Forte would have to travel to the nearest blacksmith, and the nearest blacksmith of good quality was in Adith. He¡¯d have to revisit the city.

    The next morning, he read the headlines and he had to reevaluate his plan. Adith has declared independence from the Kingdom of Rottheim. King Richard III has not retaliated so far. Perhaps it was safe now, with the looming war with Halfast acting as a cover for his business in Adith, he thought. He shuddered, thinking about his last experience in Adith, getting ambushed by raptors in his inn room and then kidnapped by Mace Thaddus, and finally dragged to the Count¡¯s mansion. But that was years ago. He had grown much stronger. It was his time to counterattack. But not yet.

    Forte decided that he would go back to Adith, despite its new status as an independent city-state. He needed mining supplies for Avalon, and Adith was the closest city with a respectable maker of pickaxes and smelting equipment. He presumed that it would not be dangerous for a while because while the two kingdoms prepared for war with each other, they could not spare resources on petty squabbling cities.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Forte began his journey to Adith, a journey that would take a few days. Having entered the human domain, there were little to no beasts around, such as carnivores like wyverns or herbivores like the venerable slog. Forte¡¯s journey was unperturbed, and he reached the mid sized city of Adith after a few days. He gazed at the familiar ivory gates, and then walked up to the gate guards.

    ¡°Halt! Past these gates is the free city of Adith. Please declare your goods for sale now. The city takes a 25% tax on any sales made by nonresidents of Adith within this city, and there will be an additional surcharge if you require the services of the Merchant¡¯s Guild.¡± The guard announced.

    Forte smiled. ¡°I¡¯d like to declare 700 silvers worth of orichalcum to be sold in Adith. That is all.¡±

    The guards¡¯ eyes lit up. ¡°Orichalcum? You? Never judge a book by its cover, huh.¡±

    They inspected the inside of the caravan, and confirmed the goods being sold.

    ¡°You may pay the 175 silvers tax here.¡± The guard said.

    Forte paid the tax, and entered the city. Several people that overheard his conversation stared at him in awe. They thought, how did a young man like him happen to possess orichalcum? Forte headed straight for the Merchant¡¯s Guild, so they could appraise and check the authenticity of his orichalcum. The Merchant¡¯s Guild of Adith was stately, and Forte stepped in on the fine rug and admired the brilliant tapestries.

    ¡°Can I help you sssssssir?¡± A merchant inquired.

    ¡°I¡¯d like for you to appraise these two chunks of orichalcum.¡± He said confidently.

    The merchant beckoned Forte into a room and sat him in front of a table. A few moments later, a young woman with a looking glass walked in and greeted Forte. She examined the pieces of orichalcum.

    ¡°Yes, these are authentic.¡± She said, beckoning to an assistant. ¡°Please give the gentleman here a stamp of the merchant¡¯s guild¡¯s approval for sale of these two chunks of orichalcum ore. Of course¡­ we can buy these from you here, and you won¡¯t have to pay our appraisal fee. We offer 290 silvers per chunk.¡±

    Forte disliked the shaving off of 110 silvers, but reluctantly agreed. He netted 580 silvers from the transaction, and left the Merchant¡¯s Guild. It was getting dark, and Forte sought refuge an inn across the street for 5 silver per night. He ate boar belly and beer for dinner, costing him another 2 silvers. He decided to check out the city attractions and treats, having built up enough of a fortune to afford some luxuries finally. His worth was 7868 silvers, but he only carried a thousand silvers around while he left the inn.

    Forte saw an advertisement for a melted chocolate candy stand, and took a shortcut through an alleyway to reach the city center. He realized his mistake when the turned the corner. A group of bandits surrounded him suddenly, cutting him off.

    ¡°It¡¯s the orichalcum boy, eh? Why don¡¯t we shake his purse a little? See if some orichalcum falls out?¡± The bandit taunted.

    Forte frowned. These bandits must have heard of his fortune with orichalcum. He unsheathed his gravitite greatsword.

    ¡°You guys are going to regret this.¡± Forte smirked.

    ¡°Regret my ass, grab him!¡± The bandit leader yelled. The bandits ran at him with swords. Forte parried their blows and landed clean blows on two of the bandits, on the sides of their bodies. The power behind the hits send them reeling, as Forte dealt with the last two bandits with a blow to the neck for one, instantly killing the bandit, and a sweeping hit across the other¡¯s torso. One of the bandits grabbed Forte from the back, retraining his arms while the other approached with a sword.

    ¡°Infernus!¡± Forte burned the bandit behind him with a flash of heat, forcing him to release his grip. The other bandit¡¯s eyes flashed in fear as he saw the magic being cast.

    ¡°Curses, he¡¯s casting spells!¡± The bandit yelped, before Forte crushed his bodice with his heavy sword.

    He looted the bandits, but to his dismay they were not carrying any money or valuables. Forte continued onto the market without a second glance, keen on getting that melted chocolate candy before it was too late. Unfortunately, he arrived at the stand moments after it closed.

    To his left was a familiar sight, a strange little magic shop with levitating baubles in the windowsill. It had not yet closed. Forte entered the shop again, and chimes announced his entry. An elderly mage sat in a rocking chair, petting a cat in the corner. Forte knew his name from Eric Lockheed. It was Bumbus Biggles.

    ¡°And who do we have here? A return customer, I say.¡± Bumbus Biggles muttered absentmindedly.

 Chapter 32: Strange Company

    Author: In response to fan requests, I¡¯m now focusing on quality rather than quantity. Chapters will be longer, the pacing will be slower, and there will be significantly more descriptive detail. I will also advance the plot slower, after feedback that things were happening too fast.

    Bumbus cleaned his spectacles with a handkerchief, and then rested them on his large, crooked nose. A teapot tooted in the background. With a wave of his hand, the white teapot zoomed towards the elderly mage and began pouring into a cup he was holding. Bumbus continued to pet his black cat while the tea poured.

    Forte looked around the shop while adjusting the collar of his shirt, so that his amulet was unnoticeable. The bespectacled mage brewed various teas and potions, and the shop was cluttered as it had ever been. He spotted a spider in a jar sitting on the shelf next to a few old tomes. In the center of the room was a mahogany desk, strewn with various parchments and incomplete letters. The cat purred.

    ¡°Has my sword served you well, my dear boy?¡± Bumbus Biggles asked Forte.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Forte replied. ¡°Almost too well. How did you come across this?¡±

    ¡°That, my friend, is a story for another day. Maybe over a cup of tea.¡± Bumbus said. ¡°I¡¯m glad it has served you well, my boy. I am too old to wield it anymore. It was high time I handed it down to an heir. Consider it yours.¡±

    The cup was filled half way with tea. With a wave of his hand, the teapot stopped pouring and levitated back to its place on the stove.

    ¡°Tea?¡± Bumbus inquired, offering the cup to Forte.

    ¡°No thank you, sir.¡± Forte replied.

    An unreadable expression settled on the old mage¡¯s face, as he put the tea cup to his face and drank. Some of the dark liquid spilled over his white beard, which he wiped off with his handkerchief.

    ¡°Age gets the better of all of us. I¡¯m now a clumsy old mess.¡± Bumbus explained. ¡°The only thing that has gotten better in time is my magic.¡±

    He waved his hand through the air again, and a parchment and pen zoomed to his side. He picked up the pen and began scratching the parchment. Forte tapped his fingers in anticipation.

    ¡°Do you, perhaps, remember the invitation I gave you two years ago? You are invited to the Academy, my boy. It will elevate your magic and swordsmanship to new levels. And they would surely take you in, with my recommendation.¡± Bumbus said.

    Forte considered the offer. It was not a bad one, as his knowledge of magic was woefully incomplete.

    ¡°How much does it cost to attend? I am not sure I can afford it.¡± He asked.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that. Your attendance is free, and I shall see to that with the headmaster. It¡¯s not every year we can introduce such a talented student. From the moment you stepped in that door the first time, I sensed great magical power within you.¡± His eyes darkened. ¡°Maybe too much power. But power nonetheless. It would be such a shame for you not to attend.¡±

    Forte thought it over again, and accepted. ¡°If the attendance is free, then I will attend the Academy. As long as I have the option to come and go whenever I see fit. I may have urgent matters to attend to.¡±

    Bumbus nodded. ¡°You will have your freedom. Oh and of course, how could I forget. Your name. Your full name, for me to register you.¡±

    ¡°Forte. Forte¡­ Minot.¡± He lied.

    ¡°I see, I see¡­¡± Bumbus looked deep in thought. He continued to scratch the parchment, taking down notes. ¡°Meet me in the capital city in two months. You will find me in my shop. We will arrange from then. Show the guard this letter, and they shall let you through. If not, they will deal have to deal with me.¡±

    Bumbus lifted the parchment and sent it towards Forte through the air.

    Forte carefully took the parchment, rolled it up, and nodded in agreement.

    Bumbus continued. ¡°And where may I ask, is your dragon? He was quite the specimen. Did you leave him in the outskirts so he wouldn¡¯t attract attention?¡±

    Forte blinked and replied. ¡°Yes. He would cause way too much of a commotion if I brought him here.¡±

    ¡°Such a shame, such a shame. I¡¯d loved to have talked to him more.¡± Bumbus sighed.

    Forte¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°You can talk to dragons?¡±

    Bumbus Biggles chuckled heartily. ¡°Anyone can talk to a dragon. But only the dragon decides whether they want to respond or not. Now off you go. I am closing shop for the night.¡±

    ---

    The pungent smell of sulfur wafted through the air, as Vaun held his breath in the cave and reached for a chimera egg. He had closely observed the mother chimera¡¯s schedule, and realized that she only left her cave for an hour each morning to hunt. Today, she had just departed. Vaun took the opportunity to poach a few eggs.

    Chimera eggs were a prized ingredient for potion making, and necessary for some of the more extravagant and dangerous potions. Vaun was currently brewing a batch of draught of eternal sleep for an aristocratic client, which despite its name only put a person to sleep for two days straight. The main ingredients were chimera eggs, lizard tongue, and frog legs. He had already procured the lizard tongue and frog legs, and all that was left were the chimera eggs in front of him. Vaun stepped into the nest and took two of the bulbous, squishy chimera eggs, carefully storing them into his knapsack. He left the cave carefully, extremely pleased that the mother had not come back from her hunting trip yet.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ---

    Forte stepped out of the magic shop, having been ushered out once more. The streets were empty at this point, as all the shops had closed. It was high time for bandits to appear, but Forte was not worried. He knew he could take care of a few bandits by himself, and in a dire situation he could summon his pirate companion to fight alongside him, although he did not want to cause such a commotion and reveal his magic. He walked back to his inn without incident, and slept for the night.

    He awoke early the next morning, and put on his clothes. Forte looked out the window. The Adithian army patrolled outside, if it could be called an army, when it was a ragtag group of mercenaries and townsmen, some fitted with pieces of steel armor while the majority wore leather armor. Ever since Adith declared itself an independent city and ceased its tributary payments to the king, the king had issued some grisly warnings, but did not send the kingdom¡¯s troops, who were busy preparing for potential battle against the kingdom of Halfast.

    Forte had two months to roam before he is meetingwith Bumbus Biggles in the capital, to register for his studies at the academy. He decided to return to his humble mining outpostof Avalon with mining supplies, and continue to grow the outpost. Through his bond with his dragon, he instructed Nightmare to meet him in the outskirts in a week¡¯s time.

    Forte began walked to the blacksmith of Adith, the reason he came to the city in the first place. The main street was crowded this morning, and street vendors and shops lined the cobblestone walkway. Forte passed by the armorer, then a potion shop, and then meandered around the slave market, looking for the blacksmith shop.

    He saw the sign first, with the word Blacksmith hammered in iron. He walked into the surprisingly small store. The burly, moustached blacksmith was hammering a sword on an anvil, turning it and hammering again.

    Various tools and weapons lined the wall, although they were mostly tools. Armorers were blacksmiths that specialized in weapons and armor, while normal blacksmiths specialized in tools. Axes, prongs, nails, and rope were hung from the wall.

    ¡°Welcome, lad. What can I do for you today?¡± The blacksmith asked.

    ¡°I need twelve steel pickaxes. How many do you have in stock?¡± Forte asked, deciding that he only wanted to make this trip once.

    ¡°More than twelve, that¡¯s for sure. They¡¯re 70 silvers apiece. I¡¯ll give you a 5 silver discount on each since you¡¯re buying twelve.¡±

    The blacksmith set down his sword and hammer, and sprinted to the back of the shop, retrieving a few pickaxes. Three by three, he brought out twelve steel pickaxes and laid 3 them on the desk in front of Forte. The rest stayed on the floor. He took a look at the sword he was working on earlier and groaned.

    ¡°Shit, it¡¯s cold already. Ah, figures.¡±

    ¡°Sorry about that.¡± Forte said, in a slightly annoyed tone.

    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t worry about it. ¡®s not your fault. Just doin¡¯ business here.¡± He replied, frowning as he inspected the molten sword.

    ¡°Do you have smelting equipment as well?¡± Forte inquired.

    ¡°What, you mean a blast furnace and prongs? Sure, I got ¡®em.¡± The blacksmith replied.

    Forte pressed on. ¡°I¡¯ll take two prongs.¡±

    The blacksmith retrieved two iron prongs from the wall and placed them on the desk next to the pickaxes.

    ¡°That¡¯ll be 20 silvers each for the prongs lad.¡± Said the blacksmith.

    Forte paid the smith 820 silvers, and hauled the steel pickaxes and iron prongs onto his caravan. The pickaxes were of excellent make, both sturdy and well finished, and Forte was satisfied. He got on his horse and began riding towards the city gate. Before he left, he spent 50 silvers on a large, sturdy bag that Nightmare could use to carry the goods. He thought that Nightmare would need to stop and rest every so often with the heavy load, but he could eventually bring the pickaxes and prongs to Avalon. The prongs were useless without a blast furnace, but they would worry about building a furnace later.

    As he approached the gates, a guard stopped him from leaving the city.

    ¡°Halt! The free city of Adith requires your financial support. For non residents to leave the city, you must pay a 10 silver fee. For residents, you must pay a 50 silver fee.¡± The guard declared.

    Forte groaned, but decided that it was necessary to levy taxes and fees for the city to pay for its military. The increased fee for residents was probably meant to discourage them from leaving or fleeing the city, he thought. Forte left Adith with 7031 silvers.

    He began his journey back towards the southern outskirts of humanity, where he would meet Nightmare.

    Two nights passed without incident, before Forte heard the sound of metal outside his caravan. It was a brigade of ten bandits fitted with iron and leather armor and steel swords, drawn to the clinking sound of silver as Forte rode his caravan, as well as the questionable lack of guards. Forte frowned, as ten bandits was a difficult amount to take on head first. He rubbed his amulet and summoned Blackbeard.

    ¡°Give them hell, Blackbeard.¡± Forte whispered.

    ¡°Aye, m¡¯lord.¡± The scruffy pirate responded with a devilish smile, unsheathing a ghastly cutlass and bursting out into the open.

    ¡°Infernus.¡± Forte ignited a ball of fire on top of his palm as he stepped out of the caravan, smirking. The sightof arcane magic caused one of the bandits to flee immediately, while the others looked horrified, although they held their ground.

    ¡°Yarrr!¡± Blackbeard charged at a bandit, swinging away with his moonlit cutlass.

    ¡°Hah!¡± Forte¡¯s battlecry followed Blackbeard¡¯s as he fired extended his palm and shot out streams of fiery hell from his palm. The blasts set a few of the bandits on fire, as Forte gripped his greatsword with both hands and began his assault.

    On the other side of the battle, Blackbeard cleaved a bandit from the shoulder to his gut, and beheaded another bandit, but he was overwhelmed and killed by a sword into the gut. Blackbeard¡¯s corporeal form disintegrated.

    Forte slashed the remaining bandits, killing or severely maiming each with a blow of his blade. The final two bandits ditched their weapons and scattered.

    ¡°Ariz infernus.¡± Forte chanted, levitating two fireballs in the air. His amulet of darkness lit up as he felt a heavy drain on his stamina, and began to feel pale. The spell was taking its toll. With a push of his hand, the fireballs shot towards the bandits. One of them missed, while the other hit its marks squarely on the back. The smitten bandit fell like a broken toy, smoldering from the heat. Forte let out a dry laughas he watched the other bandit escape, and observed the moans of the would-be bandits that were still alive but bleeding to death slowly.

    What was left of the melee was a grisly scene of gore and the charred smell of burnt blood. Without cleaning up the mess, Forte rode on his caravan and proceeded through the night, stopping after a few hours to rest.

    The journey was smooth from then on, and within a week, Forte reached the southern outskirts of humanity. He called for Nightmare, who he could feel was nearby, and half an hour later, the black dragon descended from the skies and landed in front of Forte. Forte coughed as dust swirled at the impact of the dragon¡¯s landing.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again buddy.¡± Forte smiled, but the smile faded as he looked at Nightmare¡¯s demeanor. The dragon seemed restless.

    Forte winced as a strangely familiar presence touched his mind, and a sudden overflow of images and sounds flooded in. He was looking through Nightmare¡¯s eyes, which were keener than his eyes ever were, seeing glimpses of what looked like a large group of dwarves smashing up the log cabins of Avalon. He saw the pirates and Nightmare trying to defend, but the dwarves killed the pirates and sent Nightmare fleeing.

    ¡°Avalon has been overrun.¡± Forte whispered grimly.

 Chapter 33: Reclaiming the Outpost

    Author: We¡¯re 3<sup>rd</sup> in the ¡°Popular This Week¡± category!

    Dust swirled in the background, as the dry season had settled in on the southern outskirts of Rottheim kingdom. A young man leaned on the scaly back of a black dragon, and began to speak.

    ¡°We have to retake our mining outpost from the dwarves.¡± He declared.

    Nightmare nodded in assent.

    Forte strategized the best way to retake Avalon from the group of twenty-odd dwarves. He decided that force was unavoidable. It was a battle they could use trickery and the element of surprise to win, but they still needed to fight.

    He loaded the pickaxes and prongs and silver onto Nightmare¡¯s back, and they took off. Nightmare flew laboriously, weighed down by the steel pickaxes. He flew for spurts through the clear skies, and then had to set down on the dusty plains to rest.

    Before long, the dusty plains melted into familiar lush greens, valleys, and rivers. Nightmare and Forte drank crisp water from a flowing river, while bottling some for later. A herd of slogs marched in from the fields for a drink. The bull-like beasts were majestic and large, and difficult to take down for the average hunter.

    But Forte and Nightmare were no average hunters. Nightmare split a pair of slogs from the herd by soaring through the air and breathing fire, and Forte killed one with a few blows from his massive sword. He built a camp fire and spit roasted the slog, glazing it with its own juices every so often. Forte ate part of the slog¡¯s shoulder, while Nightmare finished most of the rest. The dragon had a near bottomless appetite for meat, although he also was partial towards sweets and pastries.

    They travelled and hunted, hunted and travelled, while lugging the precious cargo of mining supplies. Before long, the outpost of Avalon appeared in the horizon.

    Forte was in range of summoning all his pirates. He found a hilly spot under a tree overlooking Avalon, and summoned his pirates.

    ¡°Jack, Cook, and Tew, report to me what happened here.¡± He demanded.

    ¡°So sorry my lord, we were overwhelmed by dwarves. The little buggers killed us one by one, and without the amulet of darkness nearby, we did not have the strength to rejuvenate our bodies once they were destroyed.¡± Tew responded.

    The wind howled, and the grassy plains bent to each gust of wind. It was a dark, cloudy day.

    ¡°No worries, I understand. We need to attack the dwarves when they are weakest. When do they sleep? What have you observed?¡± He pressed on.

    The sound of pickaxes hitting metal could be heard from the outpost. The dwarves were mining and smelting the orichalcum. The party could see from the vantage point that the dwarves had set up a crude blast furnace, and were shoveling in coke and limestone to power the furnace.

    ¡°We noticed that they all go to sleep early in the evening, a while after they eat dinner. They built a few stone houses to sleep in. The dwarves are using your original log houses to hold the orichalcum bars. Every week, a dwarf merchant comes along and purchases all the orichalcum. The merchant just arrived yesterday.¡±

    Forte ran calculations through his head as he tossed a rock in the air, and murmured ¡°Ariz¡± to keep it in the air levitating with magic. Since their sleeping quarters were stone, he reasoned, Nightmare burning down their houses as they slept was not an option. They would attack when the dwarves were sleeping.

    ¡°Where do they store their weapons? What weapons do they use?¡± Forte continued to question the pirates.

    ¡°You see the foreman dwarf down there, the ugly one? That one¡¯s called Stoneface. He¡¯s leader or manager, and keeps a stash of weapons in his stone house. But most of the dwarves sleep with at least one weapon in their house, mostly hammers and the occasional mace.¡±

    Forte let the levitating rock fall back into his palm. He tossed it back into the air and caught it, as he leaned against a tree trunk. Nightmare listened intently while playing with a rabbit carcass.

    ¡°That¡¯s who we¡¯ll kill first, Stoneface. Killing the leader should disrupt the dwarves¡¯ chain of command, and we will kill the rest as they¡¯re confused. We attack at night.¡± Forte said, summing up the plan.

    ¡°Where does Stoneface live?¡± He asked.

    Jack pointed the widest stone house, with a wooden door and a lit torch next to the door. ¡°That one right there.¡±

    Forte nodded, and continued to practice his magic with the rock. The pirates sharpened their ghastly cutlasses, and Nightmare hunted another white rabbit to play with. A few hours passed, and night had fallen.

    Forte watched and waited as the last dwarf entered their house to sleep. He waited an hour after, and then signaled to the party that it was time to act.

    ¡°Nightmare, take down the door to Stoneface¡¯s house, and I will kill him myself. Pirates, work with Nightmare to break down more doors and kill the dwarves inside. Try to be quiet.¡± He ordered.

    Forte mounted Nightmare, and they flew down from the hill, landing in front of Stoneface¡¯s house. Forte dismounted, and Nightmare tackled the door with his body, blowing the door open with his sheer weight.

    ¡°You¡¯re back! Sound the alarm! Wake up, everyone!¡± Stoneface yelled, grabbing his mithril hammer and steel shield. Forte rushed in and unsheathed his sword.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Stoneface¡¯s jaw dropped as he saw the the iridescent grey gravitite blade.

    ¡°Gravitite¡­ how did a human get a hold of gravitite? Thief!¡± He yelled in anger, as Forte swung his sword at Stoneface. He parried with his steel shield, and counterattacked with his mithril hammer. The hammer connected with Forte¡¯s shoulder, rattling the bone. Forte winced in pain and dropped his gravitite greatsword. He raised his hand and extended his palm.

    ¡°Waera!¡± He shouted, and a gust of wind blasted into the cabin, slamming Stoneface into the wall. Forte felt a sudden paleness, and let go of the magic. Stoneface slumped to the ground, and then got up and ran out of the house. Forte stopped for a moment, tending to his shoulder. He then grabbed his gravitite greatsword and chased after Stoneface. The wind howled as he stepped outside, and he noticed that a slight drizzle had begun.

    ¡°Wake up! Wake up! We¡¯re under attack by that dragon and those blasted ghosts again!¡± Stoneface shouted, as the dwarves slowly armed themselves and stepped outside. More than a dozen dwarves faced Forte, with their weapons drawn and teeth bared.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen this little cunt around have ya?¡± A dwarf growled to another.

    ¡°Nah, not this one. He seems human, very fleshy. Might not be a ghosty this time.¡± The dwarf answered.

    Nightmare and the pirates managed to skewer five sleepy dwarves, but the remaining dwarves had all woken up now. Forte was about to get overwhelmed.

    ¡°Regroup around me!¡± Forte commanded, and the party rushed to Forte¡¯s aid.

    ¡°Waera.¡± Forte recited, and a gale of wind blew towards the dwarves. Nightmare opened his mouth and blew out a steady stream of fire at the dwarves, fueled by the wind. Slog fat dripped from the dwarves, insulating them from the fire as they charged.

    ¡°Yarrrrrr!¡± The pirates ran at the dwarves with their cutlasses, and began hacking away. A dwarf stepped up and hit Cook¡¯s leg with a mace, and another swung at the downed pirate¡¯s head, smashing it inwards. Cook¡¯s form disintegrated into dust. Forte attacked with Nightmare by his side, as sword and jaw tore apart the brunt of the dwarves. The clash was intense, and the dwarves were resilient. A few dwarves fell, but so did Jack and Tew. Only Blackbeard remained of the pirates, and Forte had taken some massive blunted injuries to his shoulder from the dwarves¡¯ onslaught. The dwarves could not hit past Nightmare¡¯s scales, but aimed for his vulnerable nose and eyes, causing the dragon to recoil.

    Half the dwarves were defeated, but the party was wearing thin. Forte mustered some strength for another conjuring.

    ¡°Ariz waera!¡± He shouted. His amulet glowed and burned his chest, as a few dwarves were flung into the air for a brief moment. Forte immediately felt paler as his blood and stamina were sucked into the spell, but the damage had been done. Nightmare seized the opportunity to pounce on the dwarves and rip them apart with his teeth, as Blackbeard cut another dwarf down with his ghastly cutlass.

    Forte was kneeling on the ground panting from the magic expenditure. Stoneface approached him with his mithril hammer. Nightmare and Blackbeard were busy fighting the downed dwarves. No one was there to save him. ¡°Infernus.¡± He muttered, and a large fireball shot from his palm, hitting Stoneface squarely in the chest. His amulet vibrated as it took in Forte¡¯s stamina and blood, his mind went black as he collapsed unconscious.

    He woke up in a hard bed with a smelly blanket, being tended to by Cook.

    ¡°What happened?¡± He asked the pirate.

    ¡°You nearly killed yourself with the magic, my lord.¡± Cook responded. ¡°Blackbeard dragged you to Stoneface¡¯s house before he ran out of his physical form. You¡¯ve been out for a day. Don¡¯t worry, we hunted down every single last dwarf. They won¡¯t bother us any longer. We will dispose of the dwarven merchant when he comes next week.¡±

    Forte tried to stand up, but a searing pain came from his shoulder and he collapsed back into the bed.

    ¡°I took a look at your shoulder. The bone isn¡¯t broken, but you need time to rest my lord.¡± Cook said.

    ¡°I see¡­¡± Forte replied.

    He got up slowly, careful not to aggravate his shoulder, and went outside. The corpses of two dozen dwarves were strewn across the landscape. It was a rainy day, and Nightmare and the pirates were busy dragging the dwarf corpses into a pile. Forte went to a tree, cut down two branches, and began rubbing them together until they started to smolder. He tossed the smoldering branch into the pile of bodies, but the rain put out the fire immediately.

    Forte rested for the day as Nightmare and Blackbeard hunted. He and Nightmare ate a dinner of assorted vegetables from his rations bag, and a spit roasted wild boar. The ghosts did not need to eat.

    The next day, mining resumed. Forte inspected the dwarves¡¯ handiwork. They managed to mine a small portion of orichalcum from the vein. The dwarves had erected a blast furnace with a supply of coke and limestone, which were somewhat easily obtainable fuels for the blast furnace. Sweat dripped down the ethereal pirates¡¯ manes as they spent the day mining for orichalcum and coal. Forte watched the process silently.

    Nearly twenty stone houses were built by the dwarves since Forte was gone, and he was glad to appropriate the property from them. A few days of mining passed without incident. On the sixth day, the dwarven ore merchant appeared.

    Forte motioned the pirates back. He wished to speak with the merchant.

    The dwarf merchant had a great bushy beard and a small mining hat, riding a slog pulled caravan. Forte¡¯s eyes lit up with surprise at the slog caravan. He had never seen anything like it. Nor had he seen a tame slog before. The slog grunted in nervousness as it saw the black dragon.

    ¡°What happened here¡­¡± The merchant looked around and sighed as he saw the pile of dwarven corpses. ¡°I told you this was a bad idea, Stoneface. Don¡¯t go messing around them dragonfolk.¡±

    Forte laughed. ¡°I heard you bought ores around here.¡±

    ¡°You heard right.¡± The dwarf chuckled. ¡°And I don¡¯t care who I get them from. Just don¡¯t go attacking me. You¡¯ll have no business if I¡¯m dead, I tell ya.¡±

    ¡°Worry not. I¡¯m only here to sell ores. I have a tiny chunk of orichalcum, some coal, and some iron ore.¡± Forte reported, as the pirates hauled the ware of ores for the dwarf to inspect. The dwarf looked over the orichalcum through a looking glass, and tapped it on his face.

    ¡°This is good orichalcum. Not much though. I¡¯ll buy the orichalcum and coal from you. Gots plenty of iron ore to meself already.¡± The bearded merchant responded. ¡°For that teeny bit of orichalcum and coal, I¡¯ll pay you 215 silvers.¡±

    ¡°How about 230 silvers?¡± Forte replied impatiently.

    ¡°This isn¡¯t worth 230 silvers. It¡¯s worth 215. You don¡¯t want to play games with Half-foot.¡± The dwarf narrowed his eyes.

    Forte¡¯s mind raced. He reasoned that Half-foot could have serious backup, which was why he didn¡¯t seem afraid at all. And if it was a bluff, it was a good one. He decided to accept the price.

    ¡°Fine. Deal.¡± Forte said, shaking Half-foot¡¯s small hand. The dwarf smiled.

    ¡°Pleasure doing business with you," Half-foot said. Forte and his party helped the dwarf load the cargo, and took the 215 silvers.

    As the dwarf mounted his slog and was readying to leave, Forte ran up.

    ¡°Wait! Do you happen to know of any constructers, or builders?¡± Forte asked.

    ¡°Yes. But they don¡¯t work for free, and they sure as hell don¡¯t take ore as payment. You got the silver?¡± Half-foot replied.

    ¡°I have 7246 silvers, I can afford to pay them.¡± Forte responded.

    ¡°Hmph. That¡¯ll be enough. I¡¯ll bring a few dwarves in three days time. Hold onto your silver." Half-foot shouted, as he kicked his slog and roamed off into the distance.

 Chapter 34: A Generous Offer

    Forte began to clean up the messy remains of the battle. The party burned the body of the dead dwarves, and collected their weapons. Forte personally smelted down Stoneface¡¯s mithril hammer. He discovered that while the outside of the hammer was coated in mithril, the inside was steel, granting the hammer the properties of mithril while keeping the price reasonable.

    After the smelting was complete, he began to explore the surroundings around the outpost of Avalon. Lush green forests surrounded Avalon, with rich valleys and clear streams of water. The flora and fauna was plentiful, although most of the plant life was inedible around here. Raptors were an uncommon sight. Gentle slog herds grazed on the plentiful grass, and hill giants lounged in a valley not too far from Avalon. There were a few caves. The caves were populated by a beast the pirates called the kobold, a green lizard like animal that walked on its hind legs and communicated using common language, the language spoken by humans, dwarves, giants, and other creatures.

    One such cave peaked Forte¡¯s interest, as it radiated an aura of ancient dark magic. He felt an aura similar to the one he felt from the tower at the Rock of Gibraltar. The cave was teeming with kobolds, which Forte did not seem to mind. In fact, he viewed it as a challenge. The kobolds were roughly the same height as dwarves, and made a tongue clicking sound while they talked. They seemed to be skinnier and weaker than dwarves though, and were armed with scavenged weapons and armor, if they were armed with anything at all.

    ¡°How would you like a snack, Nightmare?¡± Forte asked his dragon as he pet his head slowly. He was sitting on top of Nightmare¡¯s back, watching the kobold infested cave from a safe distance.

    Nightmare shook his head.

    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t think they taste good, huh. Picky eater.¡± Forte chuckled.

    Nightmare snorted, puffing out a plume of fire. Forte played with Nightmare¡¯s shimmering black scales, and then continued to pet his dragon¡¯s neck with his hands.

    ¡°Regardless of whether or not they taste good, I have to get through them. And I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll let me just walk past, so we need to fight them. Let¡¯s toast some kobolds.¡± Forte said, hopping off his dragon and drawing his greatsword. Nightmare followed Forte as they walked through the lush forestry, stepping in leaves and a few ants on their way to get closer to the kobold cave. Forte brushed aside branches as the cave got closer, eager to get a better look.

    He stopped and motioned for Nightmare to hold position, as he observed the kobolds. One of them had brought back a rusty spoon, and showed it to the others, who looked elated. Forte inferred that the kobolds were hoarders. They had probably picked up a dark magic item by accident, and hoarded it in their caves, which explained why Forte sensed a dark aura emanating from the cave.

    He walked closer, and was immediately overwhelmed by the smell. The kobolds smelled of fermented berries, as if they were brewing wine. Forte could see the ragged, fetid leather the kobolds were wearing as boots and gloves. He could see that they were creatures of intelligence, although only modest intelligence.

    Forte motioned his dragon to attack. Nightmare burst out of the clearing, and breathed a stream of fire at the kobolds, who began screeching in panic. Forte walked into the clearing and readied his gravitite sword. He charged and smashed a kobold in the side with the flat of his blade, destroying the kobold¡¯s ribcage and injuring its internal organs in one move. The kobold was sent into the air briefly by the force of the blow, and then landed in a lifeless heap. Nightmare continued to toast the kobolds, as the green lizard looking people advanced with their crude weaponry and armor. Another stream of fire from the dragon seared the kobolds in their misshapen leather and iron armor. Forte battled with three kobolds, smashing them with his sword without mercy. They fell in a few moments to Forte¡¯s powerful swings.

    More kobolds emerged from the cave, and Forte summoned Blackbeard to fight with him.

    ¡°Give em hell, Blackbeard!¡± He bellowed.

    ¡°Easy like usual, m¡¯lord.¡± Blackbeard boasted.

    Blackbeard sank his ghastly cutlass into kobold after kobold as he fought alongside his master. What felt like an endless stream of kobolds came out of the cave, and as night fell, Forte called for a tactical retreat. Forte leaped onto Nightmare¡¯s back and the duo flew towards Avalon, while Blackbeard¡¯s soul returned to Forte¡¯s amulet. Together, they soared through the starry sky over the lush expanses of greenery and dense forestry, towards what was once known as the valley of the hill giants. Now it was simply a valley, and the home to the outpost of Avalon. They camped for the night, having lost the kobolds on their trail a few miles back.

    The next morning, Forte rose early and prepared for a second assault on the kobold cave. He headed over to the mines, where Cook, Tew, and Jack were hard at work extracting orichalcum, coal, and iron.

    ¡°Listen up boys, I have some new work for you today.¡± Forte chimed.

    ¡°What¡¯s the work my lord?¡± Jack responded.

    ¡°We had a good haul yesterday!¡± Cook added.

    Forte took a hard look at the sweaty pirates. Cook¡¯s belly had no receded a bit despite all the manual labor. Forte realized that the physical forms of the pirates were locked into the state that he found them in. Jack and Tew were lean, and Tew was scrawnier than Jack. All three of them were battle tested, and their swordsmanship seemed to be improving with experience despite the lack of physical improvement to their ghastly forms.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°I need you guys to help me remove some kobolds from a cave.¡± Forte responded.

    ¡°Kobolds are keen little buggers. Will do.¡± Cook replied. ¡°When do we leave?¡±

    Forte took one last look at his sweaty miners, and then smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s leave now.¡±

    He took the souls of all four pirates into his amulet, ceasing their mining duties for the day. They departed at noon, and arrived an hour later to the clearing with the kobold cave. The kobolds had formed a defensive perimeter of warriors, and they were more numerous and more heavily armed. Forte decided to attack from an angle, and ordered Nightmare to land in a thicket of forest by the cave.

    He summoned all four pirates, and signaled them to attack. The party charged through the thicket into the clearing outside the cave, and crashed head on with the kobold warriors. Nightmare inhaled deeply, and then exhaled a stream of molten fire on the kobolds, toasting them where they stood.

    ¡°Waera.¡± Forte cast, as he began channeling the wind to amplify Nightmare¡¯s fire stream. His amulet of darkness lit up and vibrated slightly. Together, they acted as a giant flame stream that slowly swept across the battlefield, setting kobolds on fire. After Nightmare ran out of fire, they began their assault in earnest. Forte and the pirates charged towards the cave, as the pirates let loose their signature battlecry.

    ¡°Yarrrr!!!¡± They bellowed.

    The pirates sank their ghastly cutlasses into kobold flesh immediately, and Forte followed suit by battering any unfortunately kobold that neared him in his bloodlust. A kobold swung at Forte¡¯s head with a mace, who dodged the swing and returned with a grueling blow to the side with his gravitite greatsword. Another kobold with a helmet stabbed at Forte with a sword, which was deflected by Forte¡¯s iron chest plate as he returned fire and killed the helmeted with a blow to the head so hard that it bypassed the helmet¡¯s protection. The pirates sliced and diced, as kobold appendages flew in the air. Cook was first to fall, and then the burly Blackbeard dissipated after getting surrounded by a group of kobolds and getting hit by a blow to the back of the neck.

    Nightmare singed the group of kobolds that killedBlackbeard with his last reserves of fire, and continued fighting. He ripped apart kobolds that attacked him with glee, and the kobold¡¯s weaponry could not pierce his tough scales. Forte was pushed back until his back was against a tree by a group of seven kobolds, but Nightmare burst through and freed Forte from the surround. A blow to the head caught Tew, and his corporeal form turned to dust. Forte and Nightmare fought like madmen, and before long, all the kobolds were killed.

    Forte examined the corpses and found nothing of real value. He proceeded into the cave with his dragon and remaining pirate companion. The cave was large, and extended deep underground. Moss grew on the sides, and mushrooms from the corners of the cave. The scent of fermented berried grew stronger as they walked through. Forte decided that it wasn¡¯t an unpleasant smell, despite not being a particularly pleasant one either. Inside the cave was a vast assortment of small pieces of rusty pieces of plate armor, swords, axes, maces, ragged clothes, empty potion vials, and the like. Little to none of the weapons or armor were in proper condition, and Forte did not pick any of them up. Forte followed the dark magic aura through the cave, and finally located its source, further into the cave. As he walked forward, his ears perked up, as he had found something else. A voice started speaking from the end of the cave.

    ¡°Do you hear that, Frank? That¡¯s not a kobold. It might be a human!¡± The voice said excitedly. His voice bounced off the sides of the cave.

    ¡°You might be right! Help! Help! If you¡¯re human, save us!¡± Frank shouted.

    Forte groaned has he realized what had transpired. Not only did the kobolds hoard armor and clothes, apparently they also hoarded captives as well. Forte walked over and revealed himself, alongside the spectre Jack and his dragon.

    ¡°Ahhhhh!! Don¡¯t eat us!!¡± A young man yelled, fear settling in his eyes at the site of the ghost and the dragon. The sound of his voice echoed through the cave.

    Forte examined the captives. There were eleven captives in a giant cage, holding what looked like bowls of gruel and huddled in ragged clothing. By the look of it, they were commoners.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to free you all, but first I need to hear your story. Make it good.¡± Forte declared.

    Water dripped from the ceiling of the cave. The dank air and heavy smell of fermented berried was difficult to breath.

    The man named Frank stood up and began. ¡°Very well. We were all slaves caught on the southern outskirts by Count Florien¡¯s men. We were being transported back to his estate when a wyvern appeared from the forest and attacked the slavers and the horses. We used the cover of chaos to escape. In our hurry to escape the slavers, we ended up lost and travelling far away from the human domain. Just our luck, as on our third day free, we ran into a roaming kobold tribe that was nearly a hundred strong. They took us prisoner last year and brought us with them as they settled here. Although we hated being prisoners, they fed and clothed us for an entire year. In exchange, we taught them language and other basics like cooking over a spit. Good thing you came too, because we were running out of things to teach them.¡±

    Forte nodded. These were a rag tag group of outcasts who almost became slaves. He felt some sympathy for them, but also realized that they could become very useful. Forte noticed that there were only male slaves fit for working. He guessed that their particular cart was filled with manual labor slaves.

    Nightmare snorted in boredom, exhaling a wisp of smoke. The captives looked nervous at the display.

    ¡°If I simply freed you now, you would have nowhere to go, even in the human domains. How about I offer you all a deal at my mining outpost of Avalon? You will mine orichalcum, iron, and coal. A dwarven merchant¡ª¡°

    ¡°A dwarf? They still exist?¡± Frank shouted, exasperated. The other captives murmured to each other.

    ¡°Yes, and not only do dwarves exist, so do dragons.¡± Forte responded.

    Nightmare perked up and belched a cloud of fire. Frank¡¯s jaw dropped and eyes widened in disbelief, as the captives started talking amongst themselves.

    ¡°Now if you will let me continue. A dwarf will come purchase your ore every week or so. And here is the agreement. You will get sixty percent of the earnings from the ore, and the rest goes to me. And don¡¯t you dare think about stealing the ore. My pirates and dragon will be watching, and you will lose your lucrative job. Sound like a deal?¡±

    Frank shook his head in disbelief. ¡°Sixty percent¡­ that¡¯s generous of you, sir. Of course we¡¯ll take the deal. Won¡¯t we, lads?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Beats a life of runnin¡¯ away from slavers and stealing, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    Frank smiled. ¡°We have a deal.¡±

    Author¡¯s notes: I¡¯ve downplayed the romance in this novel a lot so far, and replaced it with grand adventure and action. Originally this novel was going to be heavy in romance. Hope you all are not too disappointed. But there is at least one romance planned in the future.

 Chapter 35: The voice of Nightmare

    Forte walked over to the wooden cage and extended his palm. Water dripped onto him from the ceiling of the cave.

    The captives looked elated at the prospect of keeping sixty percent of their earnings, but little did they know, Forte was merely buying their loyalty. Sixty was expensive, he thought, but he knew that their gratitude and loyalty would pay off in the long run. It was also a fail proof way of preventing them from stealing ores¡ªit made no logical sense for the miners to jeopardize their lucrative jobs for a small short term gain. And finally, this was a lawless land outside of the human domain. Were they to riot, Forte could easily kill them all with his dragon and confiscate their belongings.

    ¡°Infernus,¡± he muttered. The bars of the wooden cage began smoldering, turning into ashes before the captives¡¯ eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s a miracle,¡± one of the captives gasped.

    Forte smirked and shook his head in disagreement. ¡°Magic.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a mage!¡± a young captive shouted. ¡°A real mage!¡±

    The captives spilled out of the cage, looking bewildered at their newfound freedom.

    Frank spoke up first. ¡°Many thanks to you. What is your name, savior?¡±

    ¡°My name is Forte Mott. And yours?¡± Forte responded.

    ¡°Frank Strongarm, at your service.¡± The man stretched his arms into the air, having been freed at last.

    Forte gestured towards his ghastly pirate as he addressed the captives. ¡°Listen, folks. Having accepted the offer, you are now residents of Avalon. Please follow my ghost friend, Jack, here to the outpost. He will fill you in on the details about your new jobs.¡±

    ¡°Aye, you heard the lord. Let¡¯s head out,¡± Jack said. The haphazard group followed Jack out the cave, while Forte and Nightmare stayed to investigate the dark magic aura.

    The source of the aura was sitting on a desk, a few feet away from the cages. It was a tome titled Practicum in the Dark Arts. Forte recognized the title immediately¡ªone of Fabian Sinclair¡¯s works. He opened the tome, and coughed hard. The tome was pitch black and covered in soot, and the words were all but illegible. It looked like the previous owner had tampered with dark magic, destroying the tome and leaving a lingering aura. Forte cursed, realizing that all their hard work culminated in finding the remnants of a magical accident in a tome. At least he gained eleven new residents for Avalon, he thought.

    The duo left the cave, and Forte mounted his dragon. They took off from the clearing, soaring above the trees, as Forte watched the world unfold below him like a map. They reached the outpost before sunset, and Forte smiled as he heard the sound of clinking pickaxes. The miners had started working, and it seemed like Jack had filled them in on what they needed to know. Forte conjured Blackbeard, then ordered him to summon Frank Strongarm. Frank came out of the mines with a slight limp.

    ¡°Listen carefully, Frank. Tell the miners always stay alert, and to always travel with a weapon nearby. This area has raptors occasionally. I haven¡¯t seen a wyvern yet, but they could be a possibility as well. If you see anything, yell. The pirates and my dragon will help you fend off any trouble,¡± Forte stated.

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± Frank replied.

    ¡°You are dismissed.¡± Forte waved away Frank, who walked back into the mines.

    As Frank departed, Forte decided that he would go hunting for dinner. He called Nightmare, and then rode the dragon. They flew over the grassy plains looking for a herd of slogs. Before long, they spotted the herd, and Nightmare dove down and burned two with his fire. The burnt slogs stumbled, and Forte jumped down from Nightmare and finished the job with a few strokes of his gravitite greatsword. Nightmare carried the carcasses back to Avalon, and once they were there, Forte prepared a spit.

    He spit roasted the slogs, turning them routinely and soaking them in their own juices. Then he called out the miners to come eat. The eleven miners looked famished when they reached the campfire.

    Forte distributed bowls and generous cuts of meat and vegetable rations to all the miners.

    ¡°Boy does that look good. I could never afford slog meat back in my hometown,¡± a miner chimed.

    ¡°Eat up.¡± Forte said. He raised his cup. ¡°Long live Avalon!¡±

    The content miners raised their cups and echoed him. ¡°Long live Avalon!¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Forte noticed that his miners had the strong steel pickaxes he purchased from Adith equipped, but their weapons were taken from the kobold¡¯s pile. They were old, rusty, and most were dysfunctional.

    Forte cleared his throat to gather the attention of the miners. ¡°Are any of you blacksmiths?¡±

    A miner named Horton Chestgrove raised his hand. ¡°I¡¯m a fair hand at the anvil, if I¡¯d say so myself. Forged a good sword or two back in my day.¡± Horton flexed his arms, showing his muscle.

    ¡°Good, good. I¡¯m putting you in charge of crafting eleven sets of steel swords and iron chest plates for your pals.¡± Forte said.

    Horton smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll do a damn good job of it. Starting on the swords right now. You have a pair of fire proof gloves, don¡¯t you? So I can work the furnace?¡±

    Forte took off his wyvern gauntlets and handed them to Horton. ¡°There you go.¡±

    Horton took them with a look of appreciation. ¡°Thanks, Forte. I¡¯ll put them to good use.¡±

    As dinner wrapped up, the miners headed back to the mines for a few more hours work under torchlight. Horton put on the wyvern gauntlets and headed towards the blast furnace, hauling his own mined iron and coal to smelt into steel.

    Forte walked up to the miners and pulled aside five of younger miners who had not quite reached adulthood. ¡°Listen up. Here are some vegetable seeds I have from my rations. I need you to start planting, since we can¡¯t survive on hunting alone. Meat builds muscle, but vegetables keep you healthy and strong. Start planting by tomorrow. You can mine after you finish planting. You get to keep ninety percent of the profits from your crops, and are free to sell them to the other miners.¡±

    The young miners beamed. ¡°Yes, sir!¡±

    Forte reviewed the progress. The mines were a shallowly excavated cave with veins of different metals. Each miner mined on average 12 silvers worth of iron and coal a day, an output that varied widely depending on the circumstances in the mine. Production was slow because the miners were inexperienced and still shaky from their year long confinement. In addition, the orichalcum was extraordinarily hard, harder than any metal the miners had ever laid eyes upon. Because of the difficulty of mining it, all the miners except Horton Chestgrove had given up mining it. Horton worked on the orichalcum between smelting sessions.

    With the addition of the eleven miners, Avalon was beginning to look like a real mining outpost. Five young workers planted fields of vegetables during the day and mined during the night, while Horace was still smelting steel to make swords with, and in his free time he mined the orichalcum vein.

    Forte and Nightmare were hunting slogs on the grassy plains in the heat of mid-day, tracking down a herd that we, when a thought crossed Forte¡¯s mind. What if he could domesticate the slogs, he thought. He saw that the dwarves had a tamed slog, but currently none of the miners had experience with animal husbandry. He decided to let go of the idea for the time being.

    The miners were happy with the exceptionally generous profit sharing of Forte. Most slave owners would work their miners without any pay at all, while here Forte was granting them sixty percent of the profits! As they were content with their generous share, the miners worked harder.

    Just as Forte and Nightmare arrived back from their hunting trip, a loud roar reverberated across the valley. The miners panicked.

    ¡°It¡¯s a wyvern! Hide in your houses, everyone! Go!¡± Frank Strongarm direct, as the miners fled in haphazardly towards their houses, where they would be safe.

    The wyvern appeared out of the forest. It was a female, a large one, and it looked furious. In front of the wyvern, running at top speed, was a dwarf holding a wyvern egg.

    ¡°Ye have to save me! Help!¡± the dwarf shouted. Forte stayed his hand. He didn¡¯t want trouble.

    The mother wyvern lunged forwards with its powerful hind legs and bit down at the dwarf, who dropped the egg immediately. It sank its teeth into the dwarf and threw him into the air.

    ¡°Ahhhhhhh!!¡± screamed the dwarf.

    The dwarf fell to the ground with a loud thud, and the wyvern tore off his arm with a clean stroke. Inside their ston houses, the miners watched in awe and fear, while Forte and Nightmare stood their ground on the plains. With a snap of its jaw, the mother wyvern tore the dwarf in half and swallowed the half whole. It walked forward to take its egg, and then locked eyes with a black dragon.

    Nightmare hissed.

    The mother wyvern straightened up and let loose a terrifying roar, and then began charging at Nightmare. It was nearly twice the size of Nightmare, but he and Forte stood firm. Forte rolled up his sleeve and began casting magic.

    ¡°Ariz infernus.¡± He chanted, as a large fireball gathered on top of his palm and his amulet grew hot. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the fireball hurtling towards the wyvern, hitting the wyvern in the head. The wyvern recoiled, but the bloodlust in its eyes made it clear that it would not back down without a fight. Nightmare levitated into the air and flew at the wyvern, clawing at its face and breathing a steady stream of fire. Forte unsheathed his sword and charged.

    The miners watched on with looks of horror mixed with awe at the battle. None of them had thought that the young man and his not-quite-grown dragon could take on an adult wyvern.

    The wyvern shrieked into the air as Nightmare¡¯s claws struck its eye. Forte ran up and smashed the wyvern¡¯s leg, toppling the beast. Nightmare took advantage of the wyvern¡¯s momentary weakness, and closed his jaws around the wyvern¡¯s throat. The dragon tore at the wyvern¡¯s neck as it struggled feebly. After what seemed like an eternity of struggle, the wyvern¡¯s body went limp.

    A weary Forte walked up to the slain wyvern¡¯s egg, but to his horror it was already cracked. Yolk oozed from the brokenegg. Forte sheathed his sword as the wind howled.

    Well fought, Forte.

    Forte froze. A voice was speaking directly inside his head. He looked around, confirming that there was no one else with them.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Forte shouted into the air.

    The voice cackled. Kekekekekeke¡­.

    At that moment, Forte realized. Nightmare was speaking with him.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡± Forte laughed.

    It is I.

    ¡°You can talk!¡±

    Of course I can talk. I merely chose not to.

    "So why choose to talk now?"

    We shall speak later.

    Nightmare closed his eyes, and Forte realized that the miners had emerged from their homes and were cheering for him.

 Chapter 36: The Deadly Plot

    Author: I¡¯ve rewritten the prologue, and will no longer be tracking silvers.

    The miners surrounded Forte and Nightmare as if they were heroes. ¡°I heard stories about hunters fighting wyverns, but to see it with my own eyes¡­¡±

    ¡°Incredible. Simply incredible. I¡¯ll tell my grandchildren about this battle. A lone man, against a fearsome wyvern!¡±

    Nightmare snorted loudly.Disperse this rabble, Forte. I need to speak with you in private.

    Forte nodded.

    ¡°And your dragon too. So majestic!¡±

    We may let them stay a while longer.

    Forte laughed at Nightmare¡¯s vanity. The miners continued to clamor until Forte silenced them with his hand.

    ¡°The wyvern has been defeated. Tomorrow, we celebrate! But tonight, let me rest, and let my dragon rest,¡± said Forte.

    Frank Strongarm stepped forward and began speaking. ¡°He sure as hell deserves the rest. Forte, the wyvern slayer! Let¡¯s delay celebration until tomorrow, and call it a night, men.¡±

    The miners dispersed, and a weary Forte walked back to his stone house with Nightmare. Nightmare slept outside, but they could still communicate through their dragon and master bond.

    ¡°So what did you need to tell me?¡± Forte asked Nightmare.

    The dragon stayed silent for a while, and then began to speak.

    These are dangerous times. I feel the presence of an ancient power across Varia. After a thousand years of slumber, Ismas of the great storm is rising again. He may not have a physical form yet, but you must not underestimate the dark tyrant¡ªhis tendrils of influence have already spread through Varia. The Rottheim king has been corrupted. This, I know.

    ¡°King Richard?¡± Forte asked, suddenly intent. Thunder cracked, and it began to rain outside.

    One and the same. The Rottheim king has fallen into the dark tyrant¡¯s grasps. How, I know not. But the dark tyrant¡¯s rise has been foretold. We must tread carefully to escape his gaze. We are not ready to face his wrath.

    ¡°How do you know aboutIsmas of the great storm?¡±

    How I know is beyond your comprehension.

    Forte mused over the thought as he drifted into sleep, exhausted.

    ---

    Wake up. The dwarves arehere.

    Forte woke with a start. Nightmare was staring at him through an open door.

    ¡°What dwarves?¡± he askedsleepily.

    Half-foot and his friends.

    Forte got up, threw on some clothes, and rushed outside to see Half-foot and a crew of dwarves carrying masonry equipment.

    ¡°Ay, bloody time you woke up. It¡¯s half past noon,¡± the dwarf remarked impatiently. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you lot to negotiate terms.¡±

    Forte walked up to the crew of dwarves with a hand in his pocket, rummaging through the silvers he had on person. ¡°I need a guard tower constructed, one that can observe a mile around. That should give fair warning before any beasts approach. And I need a proper blast furnace.¡±

    ¡°The guard tower¡¯ll cost you a pretty silver,¡± one of the dwarves said.

    Forte handed the dwarf a hefty pouch of silvers. ¡°Will this do?¡±

    The dwarf weighed the pouch, then peeked inside and rubbed the coins together with a smile. ¡°Yes, this will do just fine. It¡¯ll take a few weeks to finish the tower.¡±

    Forte nodded. He would need to leave soon for to meet with Bumbus, and could not manage Avalon on his own.

    He called over Frank Strongarm from the mines. ¡°I need you to take care of Avalon while I¡¯m gone. My proceedings from the ores, invest it all into the city¡¯s infrastructure. Consult Nightmare before planning a building. If he agrees, he will nod his head. If not, do not go through with the deal. I will leave the negotiating to you while I¡¯m gone, and pay you a small fee for negotiating on my behalf.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± said Frank tentatively. Forte knew that Frank was a competent negotiator, and felt safe leaving Avalon to his hands. His purchase of the miners¡¯ loyalty was already beginning to pay off.

    A wise decision, said Nightmare. Strongarm is a good man. An honest man.

    After leaving the builders to Frank, Forte headed over to the dwarf merchant, who was busy inspecting the ores that the miners had produced.

    The dwarf merchant looked up and addressed Forte. ¡°There you are, lad. Finished your negotiations so soon? The miners are telling me that you promised them a share of the proceeds. Is that true?¡±

    ¡°It is. Sixty percent to the miners, and forty to me,¡± said Forte cooly.

    The dwarf raised his eyebrow in surprise. ¡°That is a generous offer. Very well, as you say.¡±

    The dwarf did some calculations, and then paid each miner individually. He handed the rest of the silver to Forte, and left shortly afterwards.

    Forte dined with the miners over a campfire, and then prepared to leave. He stored Blackbeard¡¯s soul into his amulet, while leaving the other three pirates in Avalon. It was dark, and Forte headed to bed.

    ¡°We leave tomorrow morning. Any longer and these miners will begin pestering me over the killing of the wyvern,¡± Forte whispered to Nightmare.

    As you wish. Best of luck on your journey.

    At the break of dawn the next day, Forte woke up Nightmare.

    ¡°Let¡¯s leave now,¡± he said to his dragon.

    Nightmare stirred as Forte mounted his back, and walked into the open valley. The majestic dragon leapt into the air and spread its wings, levitating in the air with the help of magic. With a powerful flap, they were off.

    Forte felt comfortable allowing Nightmare to leave Avalon for a short while. With the addition of the dwarves, it would take a disaster to bring down the outpost.

    The dragon and his master soared over familiar stretches of forestry and clear rivers. Within a week, they arrived in the southern outskirts of the Rottheim kingdom.

    It is time for us to part. Safe journey.

    ¡°Safe journey,¡± echoed Forte, as he headed north while Nightmare headed south. Forte retrieved his horse from the local stable, paying a small sum, and continued on into the north. He was bound for Burstranton, the capital and heart of the Rottheim empire.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ---

    A nervous young man stood in front of the gate of an intimidating manor. A large sign hung from the gate with the inscription Property of the Leblanc family engraved. Two stone gargoyles flanked the gate, and a wisp of wind made the young man feel like they could come alive at any moment. Behind the gate was a garden, and behind the garden was a mansion with four pillars. A servant walked hurriedly on the front porch.

    It was approaching evening. The young man walked up and paused, then pulled the bell to the gate. He could hear the sound of gruff footsteps, as someone sauntered out of the guard house. It was the gatekeeper¡ªa brusque looking man with a scar over his eye and a missing tooth.

    ¡°Who is it?¡± the gate keeper demanded.

    Vaun swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m here to deliver a package to Gerald Leblanc.¡±

    The gate keeper nodded and reached his arm through the gate. ¡°Give it here, then.¡±

    Vaun ignored the gatekeeper¡¯s extended hand. ¡°He said I should hand it to him in person.¡±

    The gatekeeper raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh did he now. Wait here. I will check with master Leblanc.¡±

    Vaun watched as the gatekeeper walked slowly towards the manor.

    Only families of extraordinary wealth could afford to live in this part of the capital, he thought to himself. He looked around, and saw that the estate¡¯s lampswere lined with silver, and there were several guards patrolling around. The atmosphere was eerily serene, as land stretching for miles in all directions belonged to a just a few families, including the Leblancs.

    After what felt like an eternity, the gatekeeper returned and clinked open the gate.

    ¡°You can enter,¡± the gatekeeper muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but master Leblanc wants that package untouched by anyone else.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an urn of his relative¡¯s,¡± Vaun lied. ¡°That¡¯s why.¡±

    The gatekeeper¡¯s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ¡°I see.¡±

    The gatekeeper slammed the gate shut behind them, then locked it tightly as if he was expecting a burglary. Vaun followed him through the well trimmed rows of daffodils and roses. Before long, they reached the front door of the manor, a tall mahogany door the length of two full sized humans. The gatekeeper rummaged through his keys and pulled out a golden key. He fitted the key inside the mahogany door and turned. The doors opened, revealing a display of opulence Vaun was not familiar with. An elegant glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, as a great set of stairs dominated the middle of the room. Large portraits of the Leblancs hung high on the walls, and silver candelabrums lit up the entrance. Vaun stepped in gingerly, as if his very presence was a disgrace to the wealth.

    ¡°Wait here,¡± the gatekeeper coughed, pointing at a furbished seat.

    Vaun sat, as the gatekeeper called for a maid. They chatted briefly, and the maid ran upstairs. The gatekeeper left the house and locked the door. Vaun tapped his fingers against the chair as he observed his surroundings. There were two knightly suits of armor against each wall, and he could spot the corner of a dining table in another room. Servants walked back and forth, casting him a glance or two but no more. They carried elegant trays topped with fruit and tea upstairs.

    After what seemed like an eternity, the maid reappeared with Gerald Leblanc. He was an ailing man with a touch of gray in his hair, wearing a night robe. He walked with the help of a cane, and the maid carefully helped him down each step. He smiled at the young man with straw blond hair.

    ¡°You must be Vaun!¡± he said loudly. He continued down the stairs, then extended a hand shake to Vaun, who took the offer.

    Gerald Leblanc shook Vaun¡¯s hand vigorously. ¡°I heard many good things about you from my acquaintance. She said that your draught of eternal sleep was highly effective. That is an extraordinarily difficult potion to brew, is it not?¡±

    ¡°It is, sir,¡± Vaun answered timidly. He was still not accustomed to the affluence of the house.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you come with me to my study? We have much to discuss,¡± Gerald said, as he began walking to another room. Vaun followed him earnestly.

    The room contained a towering bookshelf with an assortment of books Vaun had never seen before. A suit of armor stood in the corner of the room, and an expensive rug laid on the ground. Gerald sat behind his mahogany desk, and beckoned Vaun forwards. Gerald walked towards the door to the study and locked it.

    ¡°Sit, my son,¡± he said.

    Vaun sat nervously, glancing at the ticking clock hanging from the wall. It was half past eight. He placed a brown bag on the desk.

    ¡°That is the potion of veritas,¡± Vaun whispered. ¡°Eye of owl, egg of chimera, rat¡¯s tail, diamond dust, wolfesbane, stirred counterclockwise thrice¡ª¡°

    Gerald Leblanc raised his hand and silenced Vaun. He carefully took the silvery potion out of the bag, and held it to the light to examine it. ¡°A beautiful silvery sheen. This potion looked like it was lifted from a textbook. Angela was right. You are exceptionally talented.¡±

    Gerald swirled the contents of the potion around, peering closer at the silvery liquid. ¡°You must know that this is a forbidden potion.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir. But few can recognize it, and fewer still can brew it. I believe your secret is safe with me,¡± Vaun said delicately.

    Gerald chuckled. ¡°Safe, indeed. Silver does speak louder than words. But that is not what I am here for. I am about to tell you what I intend to do with this potion of veritas, asI have a job for you. A job only someone like you can do. A long job, and I will pay a pretty silver for your services.¡±

    The clock ticked. It was a quarter to nine.

    ¡°But first, I must ask you a personal question. How do you feel about slaves? Angela mentioned that you spoke to her about them.¡±

    Vaun decided to be honest. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you have the wrong person for the job. My mother¡­ Helen and I were hunted by slave traders several years ago, after my father ditched us. She threw away her life to save me, before the slavers took her. I heard that she died just months later.¡±

    He paused. ¡°I despise slave traders.¡±

    At those words, Gerald Leblanc face lit up with a genuine smile. ¡°Excellent. Contrary to what you think, you are exactly the kind of person I need. Instead of telling you what I intend to do with this potion, I shall show you.¡±

    Cane in hand, Gerald stood up slowly. Vaun watched in amazement as Geraldwalked over to the bear rug and pulled it aside, revealing a trap door. He then walked to the bookshelf, and pulled out a book. Vaun heard a sudden snap, and the trap door opened, leading to a set of stairs.

    ¡°Come,¡± said Gerald Leblanc, as he slowly descended the stairs. Vaun followed suit, descending into what looked like an ancient dungeon with empty cells.

    ¡°The Leblanc estate was built on the ruins of an old castle,¡± said Gerald as he lit a torch and passed it to Vaun. They continued walking, brushing past spider webs until they reached a room. Gerald fumbled with the keys, and then finally opened the door. Inside the musty room was a short man tied to a chair.

    ¡°Let me introduce you to mercenary extraordinaire, Horace Hammerhead.¡± Gerald proclaimed with a smile. Horace shot a venomous glare at Gerald.

    Vaun looked betrayed. ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this?¡±

    ¡°His mind is addled by magic,¡± Gerald whispered. ¡°But your potion will reveal all.¡±

    ---

    After weeks of travel, Forte had finally reached the gates of Burstranton. The towering city was the crown jewel of Rottheim kingdom, but Forte could see the wealth disparity at its gates. Rich noblewomen dressed in pearls and diamonds walked past soot covered street urchins, and the city¡¯s city¡¯s gleaming royal guard shooed away the homeless.

    As he approached the gate, a city gate guard stepped forward and addressed Forte. ¡°Welcome to the city of Burstranton. Do you have any goods to declare for sale?¡±

    Forte shook his head. ¡°No, nothing.¡± He truly had nothing for sale this time.

    The guard looked Forte up and down. ¡°Alright. You may pass.¡±

    The guards opened the gate and let Forte in. Forte¡¯s eyes widened as he entered. The city was far larger than he had ever imagined, with buildings that looked like they touched the sky, and shops as far as the eye could see. The city was bustling with life, and crowded like no other.

    A flower merchant had a stand in front of a noodle shop to the left. A conjoined armory and blacksmith shop was to the right. Further out, a cobbler worked outside of a barber shop, shining people¡¯s shoes. There were people of all sorts, and Forte spotted peasants and farmers, dairy sellers and fish mongers, scholars and bakers, guards and mercenaries, merchants and grocers.

    Forte walked around and took in the sites. He passed an infirmary, a tavern, an inn, a tailor, a potion shop, a jeweler, andhouses.

    His stroll was stopped abruptly by slow ringing of bells, and a town crier shouting.

    ¡°Public execution of Halfast scum! Come and see!¡± the crier bellowed.

    Forte shoved into the crowd and followed the crier. He had no idea how or why the king was executing citizens of the kingdom of Halfast. It could be seen as a declaration of war, and did not seem to fit the character of the king.

    Forte walked with the crowd, pushing and shoving his way through until they reached the destination¡ªa market that was cleared to allow for public execution. Several torches burned from the gallows, as nooses swayed in the air. The royal guard threwthree Halfast citizens on to a wooden platform.

    ¡°By royal decree, you traitors have been found guilty for the sale of information and treason against the Rottheim kingdom. Thus, you have been sentenced to death by hanging!¡± the town crier read from a pamphlet. Trumpets sounded, and the three prisoners were pushed into the forefront of a jeering crowd. A portion of the crowd looked disturbed by the proceedings, while the others jeered and taunted the prisoners.

    ¡°Kill that traitor!¡±

    ¡°Burn his arse!¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s see those filthy Halfasters hang!¡±

    One by one, the prisoners stood on chairs and had the nooses fastened around their necks.

    ¡°For Rottheim!¡± a citizen shouted.

    ¡°For Rottheim!¡± the royal guard roared, kickingout the chairs from underneath the prisoners. Forte watched as they thrashed about, strangled to death by the ropes.

    Some of the citizens cheered loudly, while others looked on in disgust.

    ¡°May this be a warning to all! We will punish any traitorous spies and the like! Long live King Richard!¡± the town crier shouted. ¡°Long live the king!¡±

    Long live the king!the crowd chanted.

    Author: Thanks for reading a longer than usual chapter.

    In other news, I¡¯ve started up a patreon this week! Here''s the linkhttps://www.patreon.com/mrinocence</a>.

 Chapter 37: School Supplies

    Author: We¡¯ve reached rank #1 in the weekly!

    Forte watched the execution of three Halfast citizens intently, as he considered the diplomatic ramifications of the act. But it mattered not to him that these so called traitors died, as long as he and Nightmare were safe. No one else in the world mattered to him now. He had already begun to miss his dragon, although he knew that training at the Academy was important to growing his strength, and he would need to answer too many questions if he brought in a black dragon.

    After the execution, the crowd died down and the citizens went back to their daily work. Forte meandered the streets, taking in the sights. The mood was less boisterous than it was a mere hour ago. After an hour of weaving between eateries and potion shops, Forte happened across a large market, where spice merchants and soap makers sold their wares next to each other, and children played as their mothers bought groceries. He entered the market.

    ---

    ¡°Observe,¡± said Gerald Leblanc, as he uncorked the potion of veritas and walked towards Horace Hammerhead, who was tied uncomfortably to a wooden chair. Horace was addled by magic, with unfocused eyes and an angry but disoriented expression.

    ¡°Who did this to him?¡± Vaun asked tentatively.

    ¡°That, my son, we shall find out now,¡± Gerald replied, as he forced opened Horace¡¯s mouth after a brief struggle, and poured in the silvery liquid.

    Horace coughed, but Gerald kept pouring, forcing the mercenary to drink the entire potion. After the last drop, Horace¡¯s eyes became focused again, but there was still a slight daze in his expression. Gerald placed the empty flask on a table in front of Horace, and sat directly across from him. He motioned for Vaun to sit down beside him.

    ¡°You are familiar with the effects of the potion of veritas?¡± he asked gently.

    ¡°Yes, sir. The subject is dazed for roughly half an hour, and will answer any question truthfully¡ªthey will not remember that half hour at all. However, the potion has a side effect of temporary or even permanent insanity, and the subject may not be capable of answering the questions asked.¡±

    Gerald tapped his fingers against the table.

    ¡°There is a fourth side effect, Vaun, that is not written in any potions textbook. The subject is also temporarily freed of most magical effects except for the strongest of curses and spells. Our dear friend here has had his mind addled, and we have restored it to him. Temporarily. Now, let us begin.¡±

    Gerald took out a pen and parchment, and began questioning Horace.

    ¡°Who ordered you to do this, Horace?¡± he asked softly.

    Horace blinked and shook his head. ¡°I¡­ I dunno.¡±

    Gerald tapped the pen onto the parchment impatiently. ¡°Let¡¯s start simpler then. Why were you on my property on Sunday night, armed with a dagger?¡±

    Horace smiled dumbfounded. ¡°To kill some ¡®un called Gerald Leblanc, methinks.¡±

    Vaun looked on with awe as Gerald coolly scratched the parchment with some notes. ¡°Let me ask you again, Horace. Who did this to you? And who ordered you to kill me?¡±

    An angry look flashed on Horace¡¯s face, and he blurted out. ¡°I owed that cunt money, alright. That¡¯s why I took the job. But when I got to the job, it wasn¡¯t her. It was some guy with a hood on. He did something to me. I forgot where I was, who I was, until now, and now I¡¯m here with you guys.¡±

    All that could be heard was the scratching of parchment.

    ¡°Who did you owe money, Horace?¡± he asked calmly.

    ¡°The old witch, Amelia Grindleheart. I bought a love potion from her, and wanted to pay her back later, but I had no money. So she offered me a job and¡­. Oh.. Ahhhhh!!!!¡± screamed Horace, as he began to thrash around uncontrollably.

    Gerald stood up and rushed to Horace as fast as he could. ¡°Help me, Vaun! His body is rejecting the veritas potion. Hold him down with me.¡±

    Vaun rushed to Gerald¡¯s side and grasped Horace¡¯s flailing arms, holding him down as best as he could.

    ¡°Would you tell me what this job is about now?¡± shouted Vaun over the screaming din Horace was making.

    ¡°The truth will come in time¡­¡± muttered Gerald, barely audible over the ruckus the captive was making. ¡°Now hold him in place until he calms down.¡±

    Horace continued to thrash for a few minutes, and then stopped. A daze re-entered his eyes, and he slumped down in his chair. Gerald moved back to his seat, and put the pen and parchment back in his hands.

    ¡°Good, good. Now let us continue. Amelia Grindleheart. Where does she live? Where can I meet her?¡± he asked calmly.

    ¡°She¡­ she lives¡­ in¡­ Lievestrum. By the old bakery and tavern.¡±

    Gerald quickly jotted down a note, and then rolled up the parchment. He stood up slowly and took his cane in hand. ¡°I will explain all to you now, Vaun. You see, I believe the practice of slavery to be unsavory to say the least, and so I have taken it upon myself to free one or two shipments of slaves into the capital, before they got to their final destination. And yet, some way or another, someone has found out that I am behind these machinations, and has targeted me with an assassin. This man.¡±

    He hit his cane against the floor with anger, then continued. ¡°Alas, if it were any regular assassin, I would not trouble you with this matter. But this is no regular assassin. This is the work of a mind addling potion, a forbidden potion that is created through black magic and the sacrifice of a human life. And that is where you come in. We will combat this assassin, whoever it may be, and find the true identity of our assailant. Until then, I cannot free any more slaves, and I must stay vigilant. Will you help me with this endeavor, Vaun? It is dangerous work, but I will reward you handsomely. To tell you the truth, I am afraid. I need reliable allies in this dangerous time, allies that share with me a common cause.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Vaun nodded. ¡°Fear not. I will help you, Mister Leblanc.¡±

    ---

    ¡°Did you hear? The king ordered an excavation party of a mine nearby. I heard from my nephew, who went with the party, that the excavators have been digging endlessly without being told what they are looking for,¡± a woman gossiped to her friend as they walked through a marketplace.

    ¡°Really now? Why?¡± the second woman replied.

    ¡°I have no idea. Maybe the king has gone¡­ just a touch mad?¡± whispered the first woman.

    ¡°Shh¡­. Don¡¯t let them hear you say that, or you won¡¯t be long for this world,¡± chastised the second woman playfully.

    Forte listened in on the gossip as he wandered through the crowded marketplace, dodging between fishmongers selling fish on ice and sculptors selling their wares. He was looking for a guard. The old mage had not given any instructions to Forte to find him besides a cryptic ¡®show this letter to a guard¡±. He read the cryptic letter, which contained only one line and a signature¡ª¡®This boy is to be admitted into the Academy. Please let him through. Signed, Alfred Bumbus.¡¯

    The signature also puzzled him, as the elderly mage had told him that his name was Bumbus Biggles, not Alfred Bumbus. Forte looked for a city guard, and then found one dressed in full steel royal armor with the Barron family¡¯s white lion sigil emblazoned on his chest plate, standing by the large city gate. Forte walked up with the letter in hand.

    ¡°Sir, can you take a look at this?¡± he asked nicely.

    The guard shot Forte a quizzical look, then took the letter from his hands and began to read it.

    ¡°The boy is admitted to¡­. signed, Alfred Bumbus,¡± he muttered. The guard¡¯s eyes widened in surprise.

    ¡°Alfred Bumbus¡­ that¡¯s Bumbus Biggle¡¯s proper name, isn¡¯t it Mike?¡± he asked, nudging the fully armored guard standing next to him. The guard¡¯s armor clinked as he moved.

    ¡°Yes, yes it is,¡± replied Mike.

    The guard looked Forte up and down, and then passed the letter back to him. ¡°Go to dreary lane, on the eastern side of the city. That¡¯s the office of the former headmaster Alfred Bumbus. You should find him there at mid-day.¡±

    Forte thanked the guards, and then began heading towards the eastern portion of the town. He noticed that the bustling town center became more quiet as he travelled eastward, almost eerily quiet. The lively citizenry and tall buildings of central Burstranton were slowly replaced by shady characters and decrepit buildings as he headed further east. After fruitless searching for a while, he finally found dreary lane. A small magic shop with a sign that said Bumbus¡¯ Tea and Potions was crammed in between two houses. He walked into the magic shop, and a bell on the door signaled his entrance. The shop somehow managed to be even tighter and more cramped than the shop in Adith. Pot and pans whistled and clanked, as strange potions bubbled and the aroma of musky tea leaves wafted through the air.

    ¡°Welcome, Forte. Have a seat,¡± a familiar voice piped. It was the elderly Bumbus, still wearing his thick spectacles, with a tome and a cup of tea in hand. He turned the page as Forte sat down on a plush armchair. ¡°There you go. Have you, perchance, ever heard of the wiggling willywump?¡±

    ¡°No sir, I¡¯m afraid I haven¡¯t. Is it an animal?¡± Forte replied.

    ¡°Yes, of course. It is a creature similar to a pig, the size of a rabbit. They burrow deep under willow trees, and come out on the full moon to scavenge for food,¡± said Bumbus as he closed the tome with a thump. ¡°Unfortunately for us, the last sighting of a willywump was more than a century ago. Perchance we should concern ourselves with more current matters. Your start at the Academy, for instance.¡±

    ¡°But sir, I don¡¯t know where the Academy is, and I don¡¯t have any suppl¡ª¡° said Forte.

    ¡°Fret not, my boy. We will go shopping for supplies, and then I will personally bring you to the Academy,¡± interrupted Bumbus. ¡°Do you know why I keep my shop in this, for lack of a better phrase, disreputable part of town?¡±

    Forte looked around. ¡°Because you like your privacy?¡± he guessed.

    Bumbus chuckled and took a sip of his tea. ¡°That is true, but it is not the only reason. There are plenty of magical stores in this neighborhood, selling all sorts of trinkets and baubles and ingredients. That is why I keep my shop here, to stay close to the source of my ingredients. Yes, there are fancier shops near the city center, but these do just fine. Now, let us get you clothed like a proper mage.¡±

    Bumbus lead Forte outside. The eldery mage was surprisingly fit for his age. They strolled through the neighborhood, as unsavory people seemed to shy away from the mage.

    Forte remembered to ask Bumbus a question. ¡°Sir, I realized that you signed my letter with another name. Alfred Bumbus. If it¡¯s your proper name, why do people call you Bumbus Biggles?¡±

    Bumbus simply chuckled. ¡°I have many names and titles. Alfred Bumbus is my proper name, a name I used when I was younger, and stronger. When saying my name would make my enemy to shake in fear. Those days are long gone, and since I retired as headmaster of the Academy, I decided to choose a new name, one that would inspire laughter instead of fear. Thus, Bumbus Biggles. You may refer to me as whichever name you desire.¡±

    They arrived at a small mage¡¯s clothing shop called Pumpkin Delight. They walked in, and a young woman dressed in a robe and pointed hat walked to the counter.

    ¡°Welcome, Alfred! And who might this charming young man be?¡± she said, extending her hand out. Forte shook her soft hand. She was slightly older than Forte, with black hair and deep blue eyes and a smell of peaches. The shop was small, and an assortment of colorful robes and strange hats lined the walls.

    ¡°Hello Felicity, my dear. This here is Forte Minot, a transfer fourth-year student to the Academy. Dress him like a true mage, will you?¡± Bumbus responded.

    ¡°It will be my pleasure. Step over here, darling,¡± said Felicity, as she began to measure his shoulders and arms with a string. ¡°You will need a large robe.¡±

    Felicity walked into the back of the store, and came back a minute later with a black robe and pointed hat. ¡°This is the standard black for the Academy. Try it on!¡±

    Forte tried on the robes, and found the sleeves covered half his arm. ¡°This is too long, is it not?¡±

    Felicity smiled. ¡°Darling, it¡¯s a perfect fit! The sleeves are meant to be longer. They protect you from potion accidents.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll need four sets of those, and that¡¯ll be all,¡± Bumbus chimed. Felicity disappeared into the back of the store again, and reappeared with four sets of uniforms and a cheery disposition. The scent of peaches spread through the room. Bumbus paid for the uniforms, and they headed off to the next shop.

    They walked to a shop called The Crippled Cauldron, a rickety old shop with sign of a cracked cauldron on the front. Bells chimed as they walked through the front door. A short, fat man with a moustache sat at the counter. The shop was larger than Pumpkin Delight, although not by much. Cauldrons of different sizes lined the walls, and a large bookshelf stood in the corner. Two stone sculptures of a bear and a slog adorned the walls.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Scrimoad. Owner¡¯s out today. How may I help ye today?¡± the man said lazily.

    ¡°We require a small cauldron, A History of The Magical Arts, Potions and Brews, and Fundamentals of Combat Magic, please,¡± dictated Bumbus.

    ¡°Aye, we got ourselves a fourth-year here then,¡± said the man, his moustache bouncing as he talked. He stood up and walked into the closet, struggling as he retrieved a black cauldron and a stirring spoon. He then walked to the bookshelf and found the three books, and placed the items on the counter. Bumbus paid for the goods, and put them in a bag for Forte to carry. They stepped out onto the street, and the mage turned to face Forte.

    ¡°It is late. Meet me tomorrow morning in front of my office, Forte,¡± said the elderly mage. ¡°It¡¯s about time I bring you to the Academy.¡±

 Chapter 38: The Academy

    Forte woke up early the next morning, and headed to the Eye of Newt for breakfast. He ordered a savory pancake ladled with gravy and duck, and then headed out to Alfred Bumbus¡¯ shop. As he walked, he took off his amulet and placed it carefully in his bag. He dodged underneath baubles and gizmos from the many stores lining the central market, and made his way towards the east side of Burstranton. Before long, he had reached Bumbus¡¯ Tea and Potions. The white haired mage sat in front of his shop, carving a small wooden sculpture of a lion. Upon seeing Forte, he placed the half finished carving in his pocket and stood up to greet his prot¨¦g¨¦.

    ¡°Nice and early. You have the makings of an exceptional student already,¡± he boasted.

    Forte grinned, and followed Bumbus to a man with a horse drawn carriage.

    ¡°I ordered a carriage. The Academy is a few hours ride from the capital. We will be there by noon.¡±

    They boarded the carriage and departed from Burstranton. The carriage left through the city¡¯s elaborate western gate.

    ¡°Since you are the former headmaster of the Academy, should I call you headmaster?¡± asked Forte.

    The elderly mage cracked open a hefty tome titled Beasts of Mythology as he responded. ¡°No, because I no longer hold the title. Simply call me Bumbus, or Alfred, whichever you prefer. The current headmaster is headmaster Figgis, one of my old colleagues. Look for him if you run into any trouble.¡±

    Forte looked out the window. They were traveling west of the capital, through hills and valleys.

    ¡°Can I ask you about magic?¡± he inquired.

    Alfred Bumbus¡¯ face lit up delight. ¡°Ask away, my boy.¡±

    Forte fidgeted in his seat. ¡°I have used magic before, but I still don¡¯t quite understand it. What is magic? How come some people can use it, and most people can¡¯t?¡±

    Bumbus responded. ¡°Anyone can be trained to use magic. How well they use it, well, that¡¯s a different story. Magic is simply a conversion of energy, directed and manipulated by a mage to produce¡ª¡±

    ¡°But if anyone can use magic, how can you tell that I have great potential? How am I different from the others?¡± asked Forte with a frown.

    Bumbus¡¯ expression darkened. ¡°I have seen many mages in my years. Some excellent, some not so. It¡¯s a shame that so many of the exceptional mages I¡¯ve had the pleasure of knowing began dabbling with dark magic. But that is besides the point. I have seen many mages in my time, and have developed quite an eye for spotting talent. And you, my boy, have tremendous talent.¡±

    The carriage bumped, as they began traveling up a hill. The sun had nearly risen full over the hilly plains. There was countryside as far as the eye could say.

    Forte wavered, and then asked. ¡°Sir, what is dark magic?¡±

    Bumbus stared into Forte¡¯s eyes, as he closed his tome and set it aside. His expression was serious.

    ¡°You ask me a difficult question, Forte,¡± he responded. The elderly mage hesitated for a moment, and then continued. ¡°Dark magic uses alternate sources of energy and mediums, instead of stamina and a mage. The reason why it is called dark magic, is because the sources of energy are terrible. Terrible! Blood, life, flesh¡ªthese are the items that fuel dark magic.¡±

    The elderly mage sighed. ¡°I lost many friends that way. In their lust for power, they reached for dark magic. Some even searched for the four seals of dark magic. Alastar Sinclair¡¯s ring. Elmund Motley¡¯s amulet. The elven king Rotterly Ealdwin¡¯s locket. And of course, Ismas¡¯ thorny crown¡­¡±

    Forte looked at Bumbus, who seemed particularly melancholy. The road was bumpy, as the carriage bumped and skipped.

    Bumbus continued to mutter. ¡°My friends¡­ they lost themselves in the tales, tales that whoever possessed all four would be invincible on the battlefield. Of course, the items have been lost over the course of centuries. It is a fool¡¯s dream to chase them¡­ Ah, we have arrived.¡±

    The outline of a haunting castle-like structure came into sight. Six large towers shot up into the sky, and the courtyard seemed endless. Forte stepped out of the carriage, and was greeted by a servant, who helped him out and took his bags. He hadn¡¯t experienced such pampering in a long time¡ªit felt new.

    Forte had expected a majestic Academy, but this was something else. The castle was intimidatingly large, and two fully armored knights guarded door with pole arms in hand. A marble sculpture of a falcon stood prominently in the middle of the courtyard, and above the gate was the Academy¡¯s coat of arms, a falcon with its wings spread, clutching a willow branch in its legs.

    A short man dressed in a flowing red robe walked out and greeted Forte.

    ¡°Welcome to the Academy,¡± said the man in the red robe. I am the current headmaster, headmaster Sigmore Figgis. I heard that you are an exceptional young talent, recommended by my dear old friend.¡±

    Forte shook hands with the headmaster.

    The headmaster walked up to Bumbus. ¡°And of course, the famed Alfred Bumbus. I see you have been well!¡±

    Bumbus adjusted his spectacles. ¡°I am well indeed. But I must get going now, my shop needs me. I leave Forte to your capable hands.¡±

    With a wave, Bumbus boarded the carriage again and left the Academy.

    Figgis patted Forte on his shoulder. ¡°Unfortunately, I am also a busy man. My assistant will be here soon. Her name is Geneva Floren. She will show you around the grounds.¡±

    Forte bowed slightly. ¡°Thank you, headmaster.¡±

    The headmaster returned the bow, and walked back into the Academy, and ascended a flight of stairs. Forte waited for a few moments, and then saw a beautiful woman in a long, dark blue robe walk towards him.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°And you must be Forte Minot. Forte¡­ we haven¡¯t had a student with that name in quite a while. Follow me,¡± she said.

    Forte passed the guards and entered the long hallway. Suits of armor lined the halls, and in between were countless doors. Six sets of staircases sat in the corners of the hall.

    ¡°The stair cases lead to your dormitory towers. Your dormitory is in the sixth tower, third room. I will show you there briefly, after we have toured the premises.¡±

    They walked past a few classrooms, and reached an impressively large dining hall. It was empty.

    ¡°You will eat here between classes. Lunch is served at noon, and dinner at six. Curfew for fourth-year students is ten.¡±

    Forte Motley followed the headmaster¡¯s assistant outside, to a large open field. He spotted a few students sparring with wooden swords, and others practicing magic under the guidance of a professor.

    ¡°This is the courtyard, where you will have your combat and practical magic lessons. Remember, sparring between students is not allowed unless observed by a professor.¡±

    Forte glanced at the older students practicing magic. A few of them seemed to have a solid grasp on casting combat spells, while the rest struggled to cast a simple wind spell. Just a handful of them were threats to him, despite being older.

    A few older students strolling in the courtyard noticed Forte.

    ¡°Oy, it¡¯s the poor boy!¡±

    ¡°You mean the ¡®special¡¯ one?¡±

    ¡°How does it feel living in poverty, having a scholarship?¡±

    ¡°Suck on this!¡±

    One of the older students threw a handful of mud at Forte, which landed on his face.

    Geneva Floren scowled and ran after them. ¡°Hey!¡±

    Another older student chucked a rock at Forte, which he dodged. The group ran away jeering.

    ¡°Commoner!¡±

    Forte wiped off the mud off his face with his sleeve, wincing.

    ¡°Please forgive them, Forte. I will see to it that they are punished afterwards.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, don¡¯t worry about it,¡± replied Forte. He had to lay low for now, he thought. They visited the common room next. Students lounged on plush coaches and chatted, as tea cups and books levitated in the air. Some of the students began whispering to each other and started glaring at him intently.

    Finally, they left the common room and headed to the staircase leading to the sixth tower, a boy¡¯s dormitory tower. The long, curving stairs were lined with intimidating stone busts of animals. They passed by a stone bear, and then a lion. After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the first set of rooms, although a staircase lead further up. Forte saw his bags in front of a room, which he presumed was room three.

    ¡°Those are your belongings. To open the door to your room, simply hold the handle and repeat the password, which is truffles. And here is where I leave you. Come down tomorrow for breakfast, and you will be initiated.¡±

    Geneva twirled back towards the stairs and walked away, her dark blue robe and long black hair flowing behind her. Forte stood in the hallway, dazed. He picked up his bags, and walked to room three, whispering the password truffles to the door. The lock mechanism clicked open, and Forte pushed open the door. The room was cramped and less impressive than he thought, with a pair of desks, beds, and a large closet. Sitting on one of the beds was a brown-red haired boy eating a crispy snack. He startled at Forte¡¯s sudden entrance, then broke into a smile.

    ¡°You¡¯re the new transfer, Forte Minot right? My name¡¯s Seamus Toussaint,¡± he said, feet dangling from his chair.

    Forte moved his bags next to his bag and collapsed on the bed. ¡°That¡¯s the nicest greeting I¡¯ve gotten all day.¡±

    Seamus grinned, crunching on his snack. ¡°I¡¯m not like the others. A lot of the kids here are stuck up. I get bullied sometimes too, but eventually you¡¯ll get used to it.¡±

    He chomped down the rest of his snack. ¡°We gotta stick together.¡±

    Forte laughed. ¡°Right.¡±

    Forte got out of bed and began unpacking his belongings. A small cauldron, three textbooks, his gravitite sword, his amulet, and his clothing were emptied out form his bags.

    Seamus¡¯ eyes widened as Forte pulled out his gravitite sword.

    ¡°Is that¡­ is that sword? Where¡¯d you get one like that? Cool!¡± he exclaimed.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a worn iron sword. Got it from my father,¡± Forte lied.

    Seamus leapt out of bed. ¡°Can I see it?¡±

    Forte passed the gravitite sword to Seamus. ¡°Sure.¡±

    Seamus grasped the gravitite sword, and immediately dropped it on the ground with a loud clank. ¡°Sorry about that. It¡¯s really heavy!¡±

    Forte chuckled, and retrieved his sword. He hid his amulet of darkness inside the dresser, wrapped in a shirt, and then put on his mage robes and pointed hat.

    A loud bell rang from the courtyard.

    ¡°You hear that? That¡¯s dinner. Let¡¯s head down. And lose the hat, no hats in the dining hall,¡± said Seamus as he hurriedly put on his shoes.

    Forte followed Seamus out the door, as a few students exited their rooms along them.

    ¡°Outta my way,¡± said a fat teenager, as he shoved aside Seamus and Forte. Forte clenched his fist, but then held back at the last moment. He did not want to risk expulsion.

    Seamus and Forte made their way down through the winding staircase, to the dining hall. Dinner was served buffet style, which seemed rather sloppy for a high end Academy. Forte believed that it was done intentionally to keep the students somewhat humble.

    Students stared and whispered as Forte walked by them, although a girl giggled as he passed and caught a glance of her. After collecting his food, Forte sat down at one of tables. Even though the dining hall was crowded, all the students seemed to avoid the table he sat down at, except Seamus, who sat down across from him with a plate full of sprouts, and nothing else.

    ¡°Can you believe he got roomed with Seamus Touissant? That weird kid?¡± a girl gossiped to her friend.

    Seamus whispered to Forte. ¡°Don¡¯t mind them, they always do this.¡±

    Forte nodded, and began to eat his roasted fish and carrot. As they dined, the headmaster walked into the hall and stepped up to a platform.

    ¡°As you can see, we have a new transfer student, Forte Minot. Forte, please stand.¡±

    Forte stood somewhat nervously, as the hall fell silent with the exception of a few jeers. A student from a few tables down hurled a chicken leg at Forte.

    ¡°Ariz!¡± shouted the headmaster, as the chicken leg froze in mid air and then returned to the student¡¯s plate. ¡°See me in my office afterwards, Ferguson. We do not tolerate such behavior in the Academy.¡±

    Ferguson sulked in his chair.

    ¡°Treat your fellow students nicely. And Forte, please see me in my office tomorrow after breakfast,¡± said the robed headmaster, as he stepped back off the platform and walked out of the dining hall.

    Forte finished dinner, and headed upstairs with Seamus through a few hisses and taunts. They played cards until curfew, and then settled in for the night.

    They woke up the next morning to the sound of the breakfast bell, and ate a breakfast of eggs and ham. Again, no one sat near Forte.

    Forte turned to Seamus after finishing his breakfast. ¡°Where is the headmaster¡¯s office?¡±

    Seamus pointed towards the direction of the hall, continuing to wolf down bits of egg as he spoke. ¡°First tower.¡±

    Forte stood up and headed towards first tower. A boy stuck out his leg to trip Forte, causing him to fall flat on his face. He groaned, and saw it was Ferguson. He got back up and continued walking towards the stairs. The stairs to the first tower seemed to be even longer than the stairs in sixth tower, and Forte was panting for breath as he reached the top. He knocked on the door.

    ¡°Come in,¡± said the headmaster.

    Forte walked in, and was instantly reminded of Bumbus¡¯ tea and potions shop, except instead of tea, there were books, tomes, and scrolls lying about everywhere. The headmaster was penning a parchment. He looked up.

    ¡°We need to register you for classes, Forte. It is not often that this Academy receives transfers, rarer still that those transfers have never been formally taught magic.¡±

    He handed Forte the parchment with a peculiar glint in his eyes. ¡°These are your class assignments. Let me know if you find them¡­ too challenging.¡±

    Forte glanced at the parchment. ¡°History of the Varian Continent, Intermediate Potioneering, Intermediate Levitation, Basic Combat Magic, and Basic Elemental Magic.¡±

    He looked at the schedules, and saw that his history class was beginning in ten minutes.

    Headmaster Figgis clapped his hands. ¡°Hurry.¡±

    Author: Been getting piss poor reviews/ratings recently citing lack of emotional tension and characterization. Hopefully this chapter improves upon that¡­ Let me know. I care somewhat about ratings, but more importantly would like to improve my writing.

 Chapter 39: Classes

    Forte raced down the stairs towards his first class, which was History of the Varian Continent. Although he did not want to be late, the climb down the massive tower staircase took an eternity. Sweat glistened from his forehead as he reached the classroom and rushed inside.

    The classroom was a large auditorium, with ornate tapestries and paintings of historical figures hanging from the wall, some of which Forte recognized. Alastar Sinclair¡¯s portrait hung in the forefront, a frail, elderly man with a cursed ring on his finger. The next tapestry was of the vanquished Lord Ismas, pinned to the floor by a ferocious red dragon and a knight in white armor. And then there was Elmund Motley, his forefather. The man in the portrait was an imposing figure, wielding an overly large battleaxe with a strong jaw and a snarl on his face.

    Forte realized that he had been standing in front of the entire class for a minute, gawking at the artwork, and that the entire classes¡¯ eyes were on him. The professor, a middle aged woman with graying hair and a mouse perched on her shoulder, nodded at Forte.

    ¡°Ah, the new student. Welcome to my class. Please find a seat in the back,¡± said the professor.

    As he walked to the back of the classroom, he noticed an exceptionally pretty golden-red haired girl sitting in the front. She looked oddly familiar to him, for reasons he couldn¡¯t seem to put a finger on. There was only one empty seat available in the back of the classroom. Forte looked around and realized why¡ªFerguson was sitting next to the empty seat. Forte grimaced and took the seat begrudgingly, as Ferguson elbowed him as he sat down.

    ¡°Cut it out, will you?¡± Forte said with a grimace.

    A nasty grin appeared on Ferguson¡¯s face, as he nudged Forte again.

    Forte grinded his teeth. If this happened in any other setting, he would¡¯ve just killed the boy. But he did not want to get expelled before learning anything. Once the academy¡¯s usefulness was gone, he would make sure to pay Ferguson a visit. But for now, he would have to suppress his anger. ¡°I just visited headmaster Figgis¡¯ office, and am due to meet him again tomorrow morning. You wouldn¡¯t want me to mention anything, would you?¡± he lied.

    Ferguson¡¯s smile disappeared in an instant. ¡°Bugger off,¡± he said, and returned to reading his book.

    The professor shushed the classroom, as the lights dimmed and she began to speak. ¡°Humanity has been on the Varian continent since the dawn of time, but our story begins at the precipice of written history¡ªthe dark tyrant Ismas¡¯ rule. It was under his rule that written language was unified and standardized into what we use today.¡±

    With a flick of her wrist, the classroom began to shift. Gears grinded as a painting emerged from behind the wall. It depicted Ismas sitting in a castle overlooking the Varian continent.

    ¡°But these were dark times. Ismas was not a benevolent ruler. He demanded the sacrifice of a life in his name by every village and town during the dark season for his black magic spells, and declared all races, including the long gone elves and dwarves and orcs, as his servants.¡±

    The professor flicked her wrist, and the sound of gears grinding rang through the classroom. A new painting came to the forefront. It was a landscape of a mountainous ravine, with a human, a dwarf, an elf, an orc, and a dragon facing Ismas¡¯ black castle.

    She continued. ¡°The races united under their common hatred against the dark tyrant, inciting a rebellion of a magnitude never seen since. With the combined might of the dragons and the four races, Ismas was defeated.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The professor flicked her wrist, and a new painting emerged, showing a gruesome scene with the corpses of elves, dwarves, orcs, and humans on a large battlefield.

    ¡°Shortly after Lord Ismas fell, the races began to distrust and fight amongst each other. The dark tyrant¡¯s reign had united them, but with it gone, the foundation of their cooperation had disappeared as well. The fighting weakened all four races so much so that monsters began to control the plains. Thus began the age of monsters, which lasted for hundreds of years until the beginning of the age of heroes and magic. ¡°

    She flipped to another painting, depicting knights dressed in armor with the Motley-Sinclair coat of arms battling against terrifying beasts.

    ¡°Thus was the beginning of humanity¡¯s dominance over the other races. With the aid of powerful magicks and fire, the houses of Motley and Sinclair drove back the vile beasts and reclaimed territory, starting a golden age in magic and livelihood. But the revelries were short lived, and house Motley declared war on house Sinclair. No one knows why, but historians have speculated that it was to gain control over one of the four seals of dark magic, Alastar Sinclair¡¯s ring. During the ensuing battle, all four of the seals were destroyed or lost forever.¡±

    Forte grinned. They were not all lost, and he possessed one of them already¡ªElmund Motley¡¯s bloody amulet. He desired to retrieve all of the priceless artifacts, but he first needed to know where they were. Alastar Sinclair¡¯s ring. Rotterly Ealdwin¡¯s locket. And, of course, Ismas¡¯s thorny crown. Forte glanced to the left, and was glad to see Ferguson struggling to concentrate and take notes.

    The mouse on the professor¡¯s shoulder squeaked as she continued. ¡°Alas, the Motley-Siinclair war which drew in all four races was the end of the golden age. The number of dragons had already dwindled at that point, and the last few elven dragons were slaughtered in the battle. The elves, dwarves, and orcs retreated into their ancestral homes, and have not been seen since the eve after the battle. Humans lost their territory to beasts and monsters again, and have retreated to mercifully dry lands without frequent rain, so that the primitive deterrence of fire may still work against raptors and wingless wyverns. The vast majority of magical knowledge was lost, although some of it has been preserved by this very academy. Class is dismissed.¡±

    Shuffling feet was the only sound Forte could hear as students hurried to their next class. He closed his book and checked his schedule. His next class was Intermediate Levitation, located in the courtyard. He ran to the courtyard.

    The academy¡¯s courtyard was enormous, and Forte still remembered bitterly the older students throwing mud at him yesterday. He walked around, and saw Seamus.

    ¡°Oh, hey Forte! Are you also taking Intermediate Levitation with Professor Salamander?¡± Seamus said in a friendly manner.

    ¡°Yes. So we¡¯re in the same class, huh?¡± Fort replied.

    ¡°Indeed. Oh, look, Professor Salamander is here.¡± Seamus answered, pointing towards a short, old man with crooked teeth and white hair.

    The students stood in a line in front of the professor, with each place marked by a name card. Forte looked around for his name card, and found the spot. He walked over and copied the other students. The professor spoke one word. ¡°Let us begin.¡±

    ¡°Ariz corpus.¡±

    ¡°Ariz corpus!¡±

    ¡°Ariz corpus.¡±

    Forte watched in amazement as some of the students began to levitate in the air, while others struggled and fell. None of the students could stay in the air for longer than a few seconds. Seamus lasted in the air for a second before tumbling down.

    Forte tried his luck. ¡°Ariz corpus,¡± he muttered. He felt his strength trickling away as he slowly rose into the air and bobbed there. After a few moments, he noticed that all the students were staring at him, and he let go of the magic to appear innocuous. He fell to the ground with a thud. Professor Salamander walked over and looked Forte squarely in the eye.

    ¡°Who¡¯re you?¡± said the professor gruffly.

    ¡°I¡¯m the new student, professor,¡± Forte replied.

    ¡°Ah, Alfred Bumbus¡¯ recommendation. Is it true that you have not had any magical training?¡± asked the eldely professor.

    Forte considered mentioning the mage¡¯s guild, but then remembered that Phillip Lockheed had taught him the basics of dark magic. He would not bring up the subject. ¡°No, sir.¡±

    ¡°You are talented indeed. I saw you in the air for twelve seconds. That¡¯s almost above the fourth yearrecord of fifteen.¡±

    Forte knew that he could stay in the air for much longer than fifteen seconds, but he kept quiet. He had to hide his potential to not appear overly suspicious.

 Chapter 40: Planning

    A towering man with thick arms and a bushy moustache emerged from the forest near the small mining outpost, called Avalon. Hoisted on his enormous shoulders was the carcass of a deer. His name was Frank Strongarm, a farmer¡¯s son who took up his father¡¯s trade of harvesting the earth, until that fateful day when he travelled too far south into the wilderness, and was taken by slavers.

    Remembering his years as a captive to first the slavers and then kobolds, Frank felt a great debt to his savior Forte Mott, who not only freed him from the kobolds¡¯ cages, but also gave him honest work, generous pay, and an important position within the outpost. The kobolds didn¡¯t treat him or the rest of the captives too poorly, but they denied him fresh air and an axe to swing for far too long. He vowed to work hard to repay Forte for saving him.

    Frank had a great deal of respect for Forte, who amazed him and the rest of the miners with both his display of magic, and his strength with that large greatsword of his. He took in a breath of the crisp valley air, and headed out of the forest, towards Avalon with his catch. The deer would be enough to feed the colony for the night. Although, normally it was the dragon that hunted for food. Frank never felt completely comfortable around Forte¡¯s dragon, with his piercingly intelligent golden eyes, and of course the monstrous jaws. But he had come to like the dragon.

    He entered Avalon, and was amused by how much the outpost had grown since Forte was gone. The dwarven builders that Forte let into the colony had built the beginnings of a large, stone watchtower in the middle of the outpost, next to the refinery and blast furnace. Several new houses had sprung up to accommodate the builders, and they now had a mess hall and the beginnings of an armory. Frank greeted the miners as they rushed towards the mess hall for lunch.

    A roar rang through the sky, as a dark, regal figure descended onto the ground with a loud thump. Frank smiled¡ªit was the black dragon. They had not had trouble with beasts as long as the dragon was around. The sight of him made Frank feel at ease, and at home. The dragon walked off to its favorite spot, the top of a hill overlooking the outpost, and Frank followed, ready to report the day¡¯s update.

    They reached the top of the hill, and Frank began to speak. ¡°Greetings, dragon. As you can see, the weather is clear today, and I have neither seen nor smelled the tracks of orcs, kobolds, or dwarves in the forest to our west. As for the builders, I was thinking that we should construct a rudimentary wall around the outpost, to further deter¡ª¡°

    A strange, rumbling sensation entered Frank¡¯s mind, and his head nearly split in pain. A smooth, masculine voice began to speak.

    We will not build a perimeter wall. The outpost still needs to expand, and will not be limited by such a thing. Not yet.

    Frank was shaken. He didn¡¯t understand where the voice was coming from, and yet the answer seemed so obvious. It was the dragon speaking. He had no idea that the dragon could speak, since it had always communicated through nods or head shakes in the past. ¡°A-are you speaking, great dragon?¡± the lumbering man said with a deep but slightly nervous voice.

    Kekekekekek.

    The dragon was laughing.

    Yes, it is I.

    You heard what I said, I presume.

    Frank nodded quickly. ¡°Yes, great dragon, I heard. We will not build the wall yet, and will focus on expanding the outpost first. The town coffers have grown by nearly two thousand in the weeks your master has been gone. Should we invest in a--"

    The builders are dwarven, are they not? Tell them to refurbish our blast furnace, anvils, and smithing equipment. Eventually, we will produce the best arms in the entire continent. But for now, refurbish the arms production line as if we are preparing for war. It will be ready for Forte when he returns. In the meantime, make sure to plow the fields and get ready for a large harvest.

    ¡°What will we do with arms and no army?¡± Frank questioned.

    The army will come later. Logistics come first. Food, weapons, and an impregnable fortress. That is what we need. And plus, we can always sell the weapons. But we must be careful who we sell them to.

    ¡°You are right¡­ Avalon can specialize in mining and smithing. That would attract merchants here, and then more people could come settle here when they realize it is safe from beasts. Then, the outpost would grow into a small town!¡± Frank reasoned.

    Yes. That is why we must invest in infrastructure and defenses first and foremost. We are still under threat of being attacked by orcs, kobolds, and dwarves. We should construct four archery bunkers to supplement the watchtower, and arrows for ammunition. Tell that to the dwarves, and Horton Chestgrove. You are dismissed. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Thank you, dragon,¡± Frank responded, as he turned around and headed back towards the outpost. He had his work cut out for him.

    He arrived in the outpost amidst a brawl. A few of the miners were trading blows with the dwarven builders.

    ¡°You dirty thief!¡± a dwarf shouted, as he slammed his fist against the midsection of a man.

    Frank Strongarm broke into the clearing and thumped his chest. ¡°Hey now, stop! All of you!¡±

    The brawlers landed a few more blows before turning to regard Frank. ¡°Who started this mess? What happened?¡± he asked.

    A tough looking dwarf stepped forwards. ¡°This human right here tried to steal my beer! My best beer, no less. There¡¯s no drinks around here, and so that stuff is worth its weight in gold.¡±

    The thin looking man who was accused spoke up. ¡°I just wanted a sip, and maybe pour a bit for my brother. Wasn¡¯t trying to steal the whole bottle.¡±

    Frank silenced the two of them, and shook his head. ¡°You should¡¯ve known better, Ern. That was stealing, nothing about it. I will repay the dwarf with my own silver.¡±

    The tough dwarf looked enraged. ¡°That¡¯s it? I want that thief lashed! Human scum. Should¡¯ve known better than to take this job. Who knows if I¡¯ll get paid at the end of the day?¡±

    Frank¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°You will get paid. In fact, I will pay you right after this. But we can¡¯t do lashings. Choose a softer punishment.¡±

    The dwarf scoffed and kicked the ground, loosening a bit of dirt that swirled like dust through the cold air. Ern coughed from the dust. ¡°Fine. Don¡¯t let the lad have dinner for three days.¡±

    Frank nodded. ¡°That sounds like a fair punishment. What do you say, Ern? No dinner for three days as punishment for stealing.¡±

    Ern grunted. ¡°That¡¯s not fair! I was just borrowing the bottle for a bit.¡±

    Frank walked up to Ern and grabbed his collar, pulling him closer. ¡°I¡¯ll decide what¡¯s fair or not. Do you want to break the fragile truce we have with these dwarves right now? I don¡¯t think so. So shut up and take the punishment that you deserve.¡± He pushed Ern back, whimpering.

    -----

    Vaun sipped his tea as he surveyed the map Gerald Leblanc laid on the table. It was a map of the capital, showing an array of tunnels and sewer systems.

    Gerald tapped the map with his cane, pointing towards a particular tunnel leading out of the capital. ¡°This is where the more¡­ unsavory¡­ slaves get into the capital.¡±

    The elderly man wiped his glasses, then turned to face Vaun. ¡°What I¡¯m about to tell you next, you must swear to me never to mention this to anyone else, until the ordeal is over. Understood?¡±

    Vaun nodded. Gerald continued. ¡°Good. There is a carnival of sorts that takes place in a coliseum within the tunnels and sewers. That¡¯s right, there is an entire coliseum built down there. Slaves are forced to fight to the death in a ring with various weapons and scenarios, while watched by a few select nobles. The latest scenario was a forest setting pitting four unarmed slaves against a bear. Needless to say, the bear won.¡±

    Vaun gagged, revolted by the revelation. ¡°How do you know about this, sir?¡± He didn¡¯t know how to react, as the revelation was more than he expected. Vaun¡¯s mind spun as he imagined the different ways he would love to poison all the aristocrats that went to such a venue.

    ¡°Why, I¡¯ve been invited there myself. The carnival is the reason why I abhor the practice of slavery so much. Now you understand,¡± he replied.

    Vaun still did not understand why Gerald had told him this. If anything, it could turn him against the elderly man. Gerald sighed. ¡°I had to confess this to you to proceed. You see, I suspect that it is my sudden absences from these events that have prompted the attacks against me. Unfortunately, I myself cannot investigate this matter without being instantly recognize. That is where you come in, Vaun. You will investigate on my behalf. You will attend the carnival, and figure out who exactly ordered my head to be delivered to his or her doorstep.¡±

    Vaun shuddered. He did not want to be part of this endeavor, but it seemed like his role was essential to bringing down the inner ring of slavers. He reluctantly agreed. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±

    ¡°Good, good. Now I have a gnawing suspicion of Mortimus Beetley. He is a short man with a flamboyant moustache, and always wears a ridiculous plumed hat. I¡¯m sure you will find him. Now, we may need to pull a little ruse to get you in the event in the first place¡­¡±

    ------

    Seamus was exasperated, as he tried for the thirteenth time to stay up in the air, falling after a mere two seconds. ¡°What¡¯s the point of all this anyway?¡±

    At those words, Professor Salamander turned and faced Seamus with a fierce look on his face. ¡°Levitation is one of the key tenets of magic, boy. You must master it to delve into the more advanced arts. Ariz corpus!¡± he shouted, as he levitated Seamus helplessly in the air for a brief moment.

    ¡°That split second can be the different between life and death in a mage duel, or in a combat scenario. That is why levitation is so important, son,¡± said Professor Salamander. ¡°Class is over.¡±

    The sound of shuffling bags could be heard again, as students rushed to the dining hall for lunch. Seamus walked besides Forte, clutching his pants gloomily. ¡°Any tips on levitation, Forte?¡±

    Forte knew that he could teach Seamus how to levitate for half a minute, but he did not want to reveal his prowess. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not quite sure myself. I think it comes naturally.¡±

    Seamus groaned and kept walking. ¡°Natural talent, huh. I don¡¯t have any of that.¡±

    Forte looked encouragingly at Seamus. ¡°Hey, not with that attitude you won¡¯t have any. You just have to work harder.¡±

    Seamus looked enraged. ¡°Work harder? All my life I¡¯ve been working harder to cast magic. My mother and father expect talent from me. But what do I have? Nothing! I don¡¯t have any talent for magic, and without talent it¡¯s impossible to to achieve half the results of a genius like you, even if I work twice as hard. How is that fair?¡±

    Forte sighed. ¡°It isn¡¯t fair, Seamus. The world isn¡¯t fair. Some people just have more power than others, and it is up to the powerless to stand up for themselves.¡± He gritted his teeth, as he was thinking about the king.

    Seamus nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right. The powerless do have to stand up for ourselves. And I¡¯ll do it with hard work and diligence. I¡¯ll work twice as hard as you if I have to, even if I only achieve a third of your results.¡±

    Forte was not listening to Seamus, as he was already planning steps to oppose the king. He would need an army.

 Chapter 41: Struggle to Survive

    A warning bell cut through the night, waking up Frank Strongarm from his wooden bed.

    ¡°Goblins! Goblins! Grab your arms!¡± a miner shouted frantically from outside.

    Frank grabbed his newly forged steel axe from his bedside, and looked out the window at the scene, illuminated by moonlight. The miner was right¡ªhe could see an entire organized legion of goblins in the distance, armed with crude weaponry and ragged leather armor. He had only heard of goblins through old wive¡¯s tales, and could not figure out why the goblins were attacking, but he knew what to do. He had to defend Avalon.

    Rushing out the door into the moonlit plains, he let out a laugh when he realized that the goblins were attacking from the valley. That was perfect, since they were sitting targets for arrows from the newly finished watchtower and archery bunkers.

    He turned around, ready to issue orders, and was shocked. Three ghastly pirates stood in front of him, barking out orders while brandishing their glowing cutlasses. Forte had told him about the pirates, but he was not prepared to see them up close. The boy had a lot of tricks up his sleeve, Frank thought to himself.

    Frank walked through the pirates and began issuing orders himself. Avalon¡¯s defenses consisted of eleven miners, four of which were archers, and seven dwarves. ¡°Two able bodied archers, go up the watchtower and start firing! The rest, occupy the bunkers.¡±

    And of course, there was the dragon, but it had not returned from its hunting trip that night. Frank gritted his teeth¡ªthey would have to make do without it. Before long, the first volleys of arrows hit the goblins, felling a few.

    One of the goblins stepped up and began to speak. ¡°In the name of Lumpwart, the king of goblins, we demand all elves, dwarves, orcs, and humans to retreat from this territory!¡±

    A second volley of arrows hit the legion of goblins, prompting a wave of shrieks. The messenger goblin straightened up and shouted. ¡°This means war!¡± At that, the goblins beat their shields with their weapons and began charging.

    A few more volleys thinned the ranks, but there was still what seemed like an endless stream of goblins, and too few defenders. The goblins climbed up the valley, and the assault began. With their shimmering cutlasses, the loyal pirate servants cut down goblins as if each had the strength of ten men. Horton Chestgrove joined the fray with his massive hammer, and the dwarves jumped in as well to defend their jobs and their lives.

    Frank took a deep breath, then entered the battle. He saw that the archers had retreated from their vantage points in the bunkers and the watchtower, and grabbed swords and maces as well. He swung his axe at a goblin, cleaving into the side of his frail body. Spears jabbed him from the sides, but he continued to swing back and forth, killing goblins left and right. He was surrounded. From his back, he heard a war cry, and a massive hammer smashed into the goblins that were behind him, and a hearty voice greeted him. ¡°Let¡¯s get ¡®em, Frank Strongarm!¡±

    He was relieved at the sight of Horton Chestgrove, the massive blacksmith who made his battleaxe for him. They fought side by side, taking a few minor hits as they worked their way through the goblins. Frank watched as the ghastly pirates fell, brought down by spears, but he knew that they would regenerate. The goblins moved in, and Frank saw from the corner of his eye that a spear pierced the miner Ern through his heart, killing him instantly. They were losing the battle. Roy, the butcher¡¯s boy, was killed shortly afterwards, and a dwarf fell as well.

    The number of goblins seemed to never end, and each ugly green head he lopped off was immediately replaced with another. He knew they should have built that perimeter wall, but it was too late now. Frank cursed under his breath and continued fighting with his back to Horton Chestgrove. He felt fatigued with every blow, and had lost count of how many goblins he killed. The survivors had retreated back into the outpost, and there was fighting between the buildings. Horton grabbed a hot spoke from the blast furnace, and began poking the goblins with the fiery tip.

    A roar sounded from the sky, as a regal black dragon descended onto the battleground with a snarl. Frank¡¯s heart jumped with joy at the sight of the dragon. It pounced on the nearest goblin, and then breathed red-orange fire upon the legion, toasting the unfortunate goblins. The messenger goblin yelled, and all the goblins began to retreat haphazardly.

    The dragon let out a triumphant roar, and thumped its tail on the ground as the miners and dwarves cheered.

    What happened here? The dragon turned and looked at Frank Strongarm, projecting its powerful voice into the air. The miners¡¯ and dwarves¡¯ fallen comrades were forgotten for a moment as jaws dropped. They were astonished that the dragon could talk.

    ¡°We were attacked by a legion of goblins, who declared that this territory belongs to them, dragon,¡± Frank answered confidently. ¡°We gave ¡®em hell, but we started to get overwhelmed. Ern and Roy from the miners and Littlefoot from the dwarves were killed in the battle. And I told you we needed a perimeter wall, if you will consider it now.¡±

    Very well. The events that have transpired give your proposal merit. Construct a perimeter wall. The dragon wagged its tail and puffed out a plume of smoke.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    It was nearly dawn, and the miners and dwarves slept as Nightmare watchfully scanned the plains for signs of goblins and other creatures. They woke in the morning and began working on the perimeter defenses.

    ---

    A few days had passed since Forte¡¯s arrival at the Academy. He was slowly getting accustomed to the pomp and prestige of the place, although he still felt uncomfortable after so long away from the noble lifestyle. Nevertheless, he was especially excited for today. Today would be the first day of Basic Combat Magic, and Basic Elemental Magic. Forte walked through the ivory halls towards the enormous courtyard, especially giddy.

    He pushed open the mahogany doors, revealing an incredible scene. Rocks and beams of light flew across the courtyard, as students dueled one on one. The level was much higher than what he saw during the tour. Forte guessed that the older students that threw rocks at him were at the bottom of their class, because these fourth years were outperforming them. A lanky, smug looking student in fine black robes slammed his palm on the ground and muttered an incantation, summoning what looked like an earth golem. It charged at another student, who defended with a bolt of red light that hit the golem in its arm, cracking the arm. The golem pushed the student to the ground and raised its fist.

    ¡°Oblitio!¡± someone yelled. A bright streak of white light hit the golem, paralyzing it. ¡°Fantastic, Aaron Blackwater! That makes your record twenty and zero!¡±

    It was the professor, a scholarly looking man with gray streaks in his combed back hair, and a mangled scar on his face. He looked at Forte, who was standing in the doorway to the courtyard. ¡°Ah, the new student. You must be Forte Minot. Welcome to my class, Basic Combat Magic. My name is Professor Armaldo. Do you know how to duel?¡±

    Forte looked at the students, who had stopped dueling to stare at him, as if they were measuring his strength. He decided that he would duel. ¡°Yes, I can.¡±

    ¡°Excellent, excellent. Why don¡¯t we get you started with Molly,¡± said professor Armaldo. He walked over and stopped a fierce looking red haired girl in the middle of her duel, and beckoned Forte to take the place of the boy she was dueling. The professor clapped his hands, and spoke. ¡°Begin! And the rest of you lot, stop watching, and start dueling!¡± The students grumbled and began dueling again, and the courtyard was filled with the violent sounds of spells and incantations clashing off each other.

    ¡°I might not be the best in the class, but I won¡¯t lose to a new student like you!¡± Molly jeered. She glared at Forte, and cast an incantation. ¡°Serpentus,¡± she muttered, and a ghastly apparition of a snake slithered out of her sleeve and shot towards Forte with alarming speed.

    Forte dodged the snake two times as it lunged at him, then stood his ground and extended his palm. He muttered one word. ¡°Infernus.¡± A blast of heat erupted from his body, and the snake dissipated upon contact with the shockwave.

    Molly grinned. ¡°You use the fire element...I see.¡± She muttered under her breath another incantation, looking somewhat faint. ¡°Vasar serpentus.¡±

    ¡°Excellent thinking!¡± Professor Armaldo applauded as Molly conjured a fat, watery serpent into the air, and with a wave of her hand, it shot towards Forte again. Forte smirked and quickly flicked his wrist. ¡°Ariz infernus serpentus!¡± He had learned a new word.

    He felt the stamina sap from his body as an infernal vortex formed into the shape of a snake in front of his eyes. It lunged out at the water snake, swallowing it whole. The water serpent thrashed about, but the infernal vortex evaporated the water into a hot steam. Forte¡¯s bloodlust began to kick in, as he ordered the serpent to attack Molly. Molly looked shocked and extremely faint.

    ¡°Enough!¡± the professor shouted, and Forte let go of the magic before the professor could dissipate it. ¡°You are talented, Forte, copying magic after seeing it for the first time. Why don¡¯t you have a go against one of the class¡¯s better combat mages, Maximillian Lionheart?¡±

    Forte grinned. ¡°Sure, why not.¡± He followed the professor to Maximillian¡¯s station. He was a broad shouldered, large boy for his age, with a pudgy face and large nose. Maximillian stood up and shook hands with Forte, before the two stood on opposite ends of the courtyard.

    ¡°Begin!¡± the professor shouted.

    Maximillian raised his right arm, hand outstretched. ¡°Saban.¡± A gleaming light sword appeared in his hand, and he charged at Forte with a roar. Sword fighting was Forte¡¯s prowess. He copied Maximillian¡¯s spell. ¡°Saban,¡± he muttered. But what materialized was not a sword as he imagined, but a formless long baton. It would have to do, he though, and he parried Maximillian¡¯s first blow, and returned it with a sweeping hit on the arm. Maximillian stepped backwards at the last second, dodging the hit. Forte realized that Maximillian was a classically trained swordsman.

    The professor gasped. ¡°Fine battling!¡± Some of the students stopped their duels and began to stare at the display of swordsmanship.

    Forte swung low, and Maximillian parried the blow. His baton was not the best for a sword fight, but it was decent enough. Forte knew that he had butchered the spell, and it should have conjured a pure sword like what Maximillian had conjured. Every parry sapped a bit of stamina from Forte, and he was feeling a bit weary. He pushed on, bringing his baton above his head and smashing downwards. Maximillian raised his glowing sword to deflect the blow, and both boys winced as their stamina took a big hit from the crossing of blade and baton.

    Maximillian swung at Forte¡¯s chest, and Forte sidestepped the swing with agility. He returned the blow with a sharp lunge towards Maximillian¡¯s neck, which he deflected with his sword. The blow disoriented Maximillian, and Forte took advantage of the chaos by tackling him to the ground, and knocking Maximillian¡¯s sword out of his hand. The sword dissipated upon contact with the ground. Forte pressed his glowing baton against Maximillian¡¯s neck, and began to press down. The broad shouldered boy began to choke.

    ¡°And the winner is Forte! Next week, you will go against the class¡¯s undefeated champion, Aaron Blackwater! Class is dismissed.¡±

    Forte offered to shake hands with Maximillian, but he knocked aside Forte¡¯s hand and headed into the academy. ¡°Che¡­¡± Forte mumbled under his breath. He hated to be disrespected. It was why he insisted on the inhabitants of his city of Avalon to call him lord. One of these days, he would have the world at its knees, begging for mercy.

    Forte met with Seamus for lunch, and saw the beautiful golden-red haired girl from his History of the Varian Continent class again. He stared at her as she stood in line, curious. She looked like an otherworldly beauty, with delicate, refined features.

    ¡°Hey Seamus, you see that girl?¡± he pointed towards her. ¡°Who is she?¡±

    Seamus nearly choked on his peas. ¡°Her? That¡¯s the princess of Rottheim Kingdom, Scarlett Barron¡­ You have no chance. Don¡¯t even think about it.¡±

    Forte laughed. ¡°I was just curious.¡±

    ¡°Well don¡¯t be curious. You¡¯ll be hanged before you get within a foot of her,¡± Seamus warned.

 Chapter 42: The Chaos Ring

    Forte sat at a table in the corner of the library. He mulled over the information he had received about the girl in his history class. She was the crown princess of Rottheim Kingdom, and the king¡¯s daughter. She was the direct heir, the only heir of the king, and thus she must be well guarded at all times, he assumed. A plan started to form in his head, but that would have to wait. He was not strong enough to oppose the king yet, and he had discovered something even more interesting.

    In front of him were a few tomes, including Genealogy of the Motley-Sinclair Line and The Age of Heroes and Magic. He was tracking the long lost four seals of dark magic. In his possession was one of the four seals, the amulet of darkness, also known as Elmund Motley¡¯s amulet. He cracked open the genealogy to the page he had marked.

    ¡®¡­the battle, the chaos ring was lost. Legends say that the ring was not on Alastar Sinclair¡¯s bloody corpse. Elmund was furious, having lost what he had begun the war for. In his rage, he killed his most trusted advisor and disappeared, taking the amulet of darkness with him. After his fit of rage, Elmund Motley was never seen again¡­¡¯

    Forte skipped forward a few pages.

    ¡®¡­ chaos ring was rumored to have been passed down to the Beetley family, although its whereabouts have been lost throughout the ages. The chaos ring never graced the battlefield again, a grace from the gods, for the ring only brought terror and¡­¡¯

    He read over the line again. ¡®¡­ the Beetley family¡­¡¯. Then he looked at the schedule given to him by the headmaster. Samuel Beetley was his Basic Elemental Magic professor, and his class was in two hours.

    Forte packed his books and immediately went to the classroom. He wanted to appear like a good student to get onto the professor¡¯s good side, and so he waited patiently outside the classroom for an hour.

    Before long, a portly professor walked into the classroom. Forte assumed that it was Samuel Beetley. ¡°The new student!¡± professor Beetley exclaimed. ¡°You are early.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just very interested in elemental magic,¡± Forte replied. It wasn¡¯t a lie; he was actually interested. Any additional knowledge he could dig up about Sinclair¡¯s ring through the professor was just a bonus.

    ¡°Well, since you are a new student, you should take the affinity test,¡± the professor said, as he retrieved a crystal ball from his drawer. ¡°Come down here and place your hands on the ball. Let us first test for earth affinity. That is the most common one.¡±

    Forte walked down to the front of the classroom, and placed his hands on the crystal ball, as the professor mumbled. ¡°Tonn.¡± Nothing happened. The professor frowned. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you have zero affinity for the earth element. Now let¡¯s try water. Vasar.¡±

    He placed his hands on the ball again, and a miniscule blue light emitted from the orb. ¡°Good, good! You have a very slight affinity for water. We can work on that. Now for wind. Waera!¡±

    This time, a warm green glow shone from the orb. Forte was amazed at the magical trinket. The professor¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You seem to be a student prodigy with the wind element. Fantastic! Now for the final element, fire. Infernus.¡±

    Forte touched the orb, and the glass cracked immediately. A fiery orb spurted into existence in the air where the center of the crystal ball was.

    The professor looked shocked. ¡°My boy, Forte. You possess an affinity for fire not seen since the Motley line died out, ages ago. That is absurd. You are more than a prodigy. I see why Alfred Bumbus personally recommended you now.¡±

    Forte frowned. ¡°What does fire affinity have to do with the Motley line, professor?¡±

    The professor¡¯s face darkened. ¡°Fire was the specialty of house Motley, just as wind was for house Sinclair. Although we call it the age of heroes and magic, house Motley were no heroes. They pillaged, raped, stole, and plundered, and ruled with their dangerous fire magic. It was house Sinclair that brought peace and harmony to the Varian continent, and balanced out the Motleys. Only after Eeyr Sinclair married Farid Motley did the Motley family finally settle down for peace. That is, until the despicable Elmund Motley fell for his lust for power, and started the Motley-Sinclair war.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Forte responded. He did not know about his family¡¯s entire past. Students began to come into the classroom, and the professor shuffled his papers. Forte walked towards the professor. ¡°Can we continue this conversation in your office later?¡± he asked innocuously. The professor smiled. ¡°Of course! Anything for such a prodigy. Meet me in my office in a week, at the seventh hour.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Forte found a seat, and the professor began to lecture. ¡°Today I will give you all a glimpse of advanced elemental magic. Observe.¡± The professor brought out another crystal ball, and placed his palm on it. ¡°Vasar! Waera!!¡±

    Colors began to swirl within the ball, forming what looked like a cloud. The professor slapped the crystal ball. ¡°Infernus!¡±

    At that instant, a flash of electricity exploded inside the ball. The students oohed and ahhed at the display. The professor spoke. ¡°What I have just shown you is the combination of elements to create new elements. There are an infinite amount of different elements you can create with the basic four, and magical scholars are still researching this subject. But today, let us start with one of the easier combinations. Wind and fire to create the light element. Everyone, repeat after me. Waera, Infernus!¡±

    The students placed their hands on the crystal balls in front of them, and chanted with the professor.

    --

    A week passed, and Forte was ready for his duel with Aaron Blackwater, his grade¡¯s champion.

    ¡°Tonight, we have a special event. Forte Minot is challenging the undefeated fourth year combat magic prodigy, Aaron Blackwater! Mister Blackwater, please step into the ring. Mister Minot, please step into the ring,¡± the professor said.

    Forte shook his head in disgust as the professor mentioned his false last name. He wanted to reveal to the world that he was part of house Motley, but he needed to lay low for now. Soon, his time would come. But not now.

    He stepped into the courtyard ring and looked at the professor, who was waiting for a signal of readiness from him. He nodded, and the professor clapped his hands together. ¡°You may begin!¡±

    At the sound of the clap, Aaron Blackwater immediately clasped his hands together and reached for the ground. ¡°Tonn elementa!¡± The earth below the boy began to shift, rising and hardening into a hulking earth golem that was twice the height of the boy, with thick, earthen arms, and a broad chest plate.

    ¡°Ariz infernus,¡± Forte chanted, and three swirling fireballs appeared in front of him. With a wave of his arm, Forte pointed at the golem, and the three fireballs shot out at it. They landed with dull thuds on the golem¡¯s chestplate, barely phasing the towering elemental. Aaron laughed as he watched the fire splash off his elemental. ¡°Is that the best you¡¯ve got?¡± he jeered, as he reached for a handful of dirt. ¡°Tonn,¡± he murmured, and the dirt hardened into a solid sphere. Aaron chucked the sphere at Forte with alarming speed while Forte battled the golem, hitting Forte in the stomach.

    Forte winced in pain at the contact. The rock sphere seemed to have been accelerated with magic. He cast another fireball at the golem, but it also splashed off the golem¡¯s hardened body. Forte was becoming concerned¡ªhis tried and true tactic did not seem to be working, and he was in trouble. The earth golem approached and raised its giant fist, ready to smash down on Forte, who was lying on the ground panting.

    The golem swung down, and Forte rolled to the side, barely dodging the blow. It smashed down a few more times, and Forte dodged from side to side by rolling frantically. The golem hesitated for a moment, and Forte seized the opportunity. ¡°Oblitio,¡± Forte muttered without thinking, and a white bolt of light erupted from his palm and hit the golem. He clenched his teeth as the energy sapped out of his body at a dangerous rate. The golem was paralyzed by the blast of white energy. Forte glanced at Aaron, who was running low on stamina trying to maintain the golem. A crowd began to gather around the two duelists, full of eager students watching the battle.

    Forte stood up and bolted towards Aaron. ¡°Saban¡±, he said, and a glowing sword appeared in his hand. The ghastly sword of light was better forged than yesterday, but still not perfect. Aaron dropped his hands, and the golem crumbled into pieces as he put his hands together. ¡°Hammun,¡± he said. The dirt rose and formed a large mallet, which Aaron gripped in his hands.

    Aaron swung the massive mallet at Forte, who parried with his glowing sword. The sword began to crack upon contact, and Forte had to let go of the magic. Aaron swung again, and the mallet headed for Forte¡¯s undefended torso.

    ¡°Dracio,¡± Forte muttered. A flaming apparition of a dragon burst out of Forte¡¯s chest, roaring as it blocked the mallet with its powerful jaw. The dragon snapped the mallet in half and nearly clamped its jaws around Aaron, but Forte had to let go of the magic because of the stamina cost, and the dragon disintegrated after singing Aaaron¡¯s hair.

    A nasty look appeared on Aaron¡¯s face. ¡°Oblitera!¡± the broad shouldered noble boy shouted. A violently bright beam of white light shot out of Aaron¡¯s palm. Forte immediately recognized that he had casted some form of dark magic, and raised his palm to return the favor. The veins on his arms started popping and his blood boiled as he prepared to cast the forbidden spell Fyrza.

    ¡°Stop! Ariz tonn!¡± professor Armaldo shouted as he ran into the arena and waved his hands, casting magic. The ground rumbled, and an enormous wall erupted from the ground. The Oblitera spell crashed into the earthen wall, leaving a large blackened mark on the wall. Aaron collapsed onto the ground, and Forte let go of his dark magic casting. The professor ran over to Aaron. ¡°Aaron Blackwater! You have casted forbidden magic! That is grounds for expulsion. I will speak to your father personally. As for now, see the headmaster tonight.¡±

    Aaron groaned and reluctantly answered while still sprawled on the ground. ¡°Yes¡­ sir.¡±

    The professor sighed, and then turned to the class. ¡°Class is dismissed.¡±

    Forte felt slightly faint, but he had an appointment with Professor Beetley. He wondered if a current descendant of the Beetley family would know where Sinclair¡¯s ring was kept, or if it was still missing. But that was a sensitive topic¡ªSinclair¡¯s ring was one of the four seals of dark magic. He would need to butter up to the professor to tease out the information.

 Chapter 43: Strangers in the Dark

    A menacing door with an engraving of a dragon and a phoenix stood in front of Forte. The door was the entrance to Samuel Beetley¡¯s office, and it was thoroughly intimidating. Forte tentatively knocked on the door.

    ¡°Come in,¡± a smooth voice answered.

    Forte opened the door and walked inside. Strange plants with teeth decorated the office, and there were rows of potion vials on the sides. A glowing crystal ball sat on the professor¡¯s desk. The obese professor was sunk in his armchair, looking at Forte while dangling a pipe in his mouth. The room smelled of elwood tobacco and alcohol, as an open bottle of brandy sat on the side of his desk. The professor seemed slightly drunk.

    ¡°Professor, I¡¯d like to continue our conversation from last time,¡± Forte said warmly, as took out a box of pastries and looked around the office. One of the plants started to move, startling him.

    ¡°Careful around those, Forte. Those are Halfastian potted plants. Flesh eaters. Watch your fingers,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Right, we were speaking about the Motley-Sinclair line. What interested you again?¡±

    Forte placed the box of sumptuous pastries on the desk to tempt the professor, and considered his words carefully. ¡°The history of magic just fascinates me. I heard in history class that there were four seals of dark magic, and they were lost after the war. Motley¡¯s amulet, Ismas¡¯ thorny crown, Ealdwin¡¯s¡ª ¡°

    ¡°Ealdwin¡¯s locket, and Sinclair¡¯s ring of chaos. Yes, yes, I am familiar with them,¡± the professor interrupted. ¡°These are forbidden artifacts of dark magic, Forte. I suggest you do not dabble with them.¡±

    The professor leaned in for a pastry, and Forte was delighted, although his face did not show it. He needed to charm the professor just a bit more, to further open him up so that he would reveal his secrets. ¡°I am just curious, as a student of magical history. I wonder what would have happened if those artifacts fell into the hands of a benevolent ruler. Did they really disappear after the war? You are a fantastic teacher, and I thought that you might know more about it, given your familiarity with the Motley and Sinclair lines.¡±

    Samuel Beetley sighed, and plopped the pastry in his mouth. ¡°You ask dangerous questions, Forte, but if it is simply to satisfy your curiosity and nothing more, I will answer. I like you, Forte. You¡¯re a good student, one with potential I haven¡¯t seen in a long time. And curiosity is a virtue of many good students. That is why I will tell you this.¡± He sighed again, and continued, slightly slurring his words together. ¡°Three of the four seals of dark magic were lost completely after the fall of the Motley-Sinclair dynasty, but one of them remained. Alastar knew that the war was lost, and he needed someone he could trust to guard the ring with his life. That person was my ancestor, Jeord Beetley. The chaos ring was locked and sealed within the Beetley estate for many years, until many generations passed, and its power faded. The ring had not glowed for centuries, and my great grandfather foolishly decided to sell it. Our noble family was hard pressed for money, you see, and the artifact would not activate no matter who wore it¡ªyou can see that curiosity also overwhelmed the Beetley family. Thus, he sold it. To who, I know not. You may talk to my brother if you wish, he knows more about the matter.¡±

    Samuel Beetley scribbled a few words on a parchment, and then stamped it. ¡°Take this to him. I myself am curious to find outwho the ring was sold to, and where it resides now. Anyway, it is a useless piece of jewelry now. My family has tried wearing and using it for generations out of curiosity, but it has never activated. Take this parchment to my brother, Mortimus Beetley. He lives in the capital city.¡±

    ¡°Understood. I am also intriguedto know where the ring wound up. That''s all I need to know for now. Thank you for your time professor,¡± Forte smiled handsomely as he took the parchment and walked out the door.

    ¡°My pleasure¡­¡± the professor responded.

    Forte closed the door once he left the office. He had succeeded in extracting the information he wanted about the second forbidden seal of dark magic. He didn¡¯t know if he could activate the ring, but he just wanted to touch it, to feel its power. His lust for power had overwhelmed his rationality. The weekend was approaching, and it was the perfect time to visit the capital city again. The address was written on the parchment.

    ---

    Vaun breathed in deeply, as he fastened his daggers to his belt. The bloody carnival had shaken him to the core.

    He took one last look at the portrait of his target, a fat man who loved to wear flamboyant clothing¡ªMortimus Beetley.

    ---

    Forte packed a few days worth of supplies, and called a carriage. He wore the amulet of darkness around his neck and underneath his robes, careful to mask its aura. The carriage arrived at the academy, and he rode through the hills and plains towards the capital city. Before long, he had arrived at the Beetley estate, a grand display that seemed somewhat weathered. The garden was slightly unkempt, although there was an impressive engraving of a dragon and a phoenix on top of the gate.

    The Beetley family was once incredibly wealthy, Forte thought, but the wealth must have dwindled through the generations. He put on his hood and rapped on the gate. The shuffling of feet could be heard, and a young girl appeared. Forte frowned in confusion¡ªhe didn¡¯t understand why the gatekeeper was what appeared to be a thirteen-year-old girl. But the shackles on her feet made him instantly realize what he was dealing with. The girl was a slave. When he would strike his fortune, he would also buy a slew of slaves to do his bidding. He somewhat admired Mortimus Beetley now.

    ¡°Who is it?¡± the slave girl asked softly.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Forte Minot. I¡¯ve come to talk to Mortimus Beetley,¡± Forte replied.

    The girl cleared her throat. ¡°Master Beetley is busy right now. You may leave.¡± She began closing the second part of the gate.

    Forte grabbed the second half of the gate through the bars. ¡°Not so fast. I have a letter from his brother, Samuel. It¡¯s stamped. Here.¡± He handed the letter over to the slave girl, who read it and nodded. She opened the creaky gate.

    ¡°Follow me,¡± she said.

    Forte followed the slave, who was wearing an elegant dress, which differed from normal slave attire. The two shackles on her feet weren¡¯t chained together either, which was doubly strange. Forte reasoned that either the slave was a favorite of Mortimus, or Mortimus had leverage over her that would preclude any attempts of escaping. Judging by the girl¡¯s timid expression, Forte knew that it was the latter.

    They entered the mansion, and the slave brought Forte to the lord of the estate¡¯s study. She knocked on the door, two quick raps.

    ¡°Master Beetley, I¡¯ve brought a student from the academy who has a written recommendation from Master Samuel,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± a squeaky voice responded. ¡°Bring them in.¡±

    The slave peeked into the room, and then opened the door for Forte. She led him inside, then left them alone. Forte kept his hood on¡ªhe had a strange feeling that something was amiss, and wanted to keep his identity secret.

    ¡°Sir, I was told that you have knowledge that I seek. But first¡­¡± Forte walked over and handed the fat lord in an outrageously yellow hat a small gift wrapped box. ¡°A present, to show my good will.¡±

    ¡°My, my¡­¡± said Mortimus Beetley, as he opened the box. Inside was a box of exquisite chocolates. ¡°Well I dare say these look tempting, but I cannot have them. Too many people are out for me, so I only eat food prepared by my chefs.¡± He carefully placed the box of chocolates onto his desk, and clasped his hands together. ¡°Now, what did you want to talk to me about?¡±

    Forte swallowed before answering. ¡°I heard from your brother that the Beetley family was in possession of a certain¡­ ring¡­ but it was sold by your¡ª¡°

    ¡°Ah, yes, the chaos ring. It was indeed sold by my great grandfather for a tidy sum to a collector of sorts. But before I tell you who it was sold to, can you enlighten me as to why this piece of knowledge is important to you? The chaos ring is one of the four lost seals, not the business of a third or forth year academy student.¡±

    Forte cursed under his breath. Finding the identity of the elusive buyer was difficult as it was without added suspicion by Mortimus Beetley. ¡°Sir, I¡¯m merely interested in the fascinating history of the¡ª¡°

    BOOM.

    The eastern wall exploded, and the silhouette of a masked man appeared as the dust settled.

    Swish.

    The masked man threw a dagger from his cloak towards Mortimus Beetley. Mortimus squealed as Forte quickly casted a blast of wind to redirect the dagger, changing its trajectory as it missed Mortimus¡¯ head by a hair, and instead pierced an oil canvas behind the fat lord.

    At the sound of the lord¡¯s cry, guards and slaves rushed into the room and tackled Forte to the ground. The masked man vanished as debris rushed into the room.

    ¡°Off the boy! He saved my life!¡± squealed the ugly lord. Forte¡¯s assailants immediately backed off.

    As the dust settled, a tunnel was visible underneath where the eastern wall was. The assassin had escaped through it. Mortimus directed several of his slaves and servants to search the tunnel, as he turned to Forte.

    ¡°Boy, what is your name?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Forte¡­ Minot, sir,¡± Forte responded carefully.

    The ugly, pudgy man paced around the room before speaking. ¡°You¡¯re a remarkable boy, Forte. Quick to cast magic, and smart as well. I would like to offer you a position as my bodyguard. You will be paid well.¡±

    Forte shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to turn down the offer. But I can investigate who the assassin was, if you tell me who the ring was sold to.

    Mortimus laughed. ¡°That old thing? It was sold to a certain family. Find me the assassin¡¯s identity, and I will pay you a thousand silvers and tell you which family it was.¡±

    Forte nodded. ¡°Deal.¡± He sprinted into the tunnel with a torch. He took the amulet of darkness out of his robes, and the ruby gold amulet sparkled in the torchlight.

    ---

    Vaun was baffled. None of his sources had told him that the sickly old man had a brilliant mage as his guard. Not a single one of his most trusted sources. Mortimus Beetley had more secrets than the illegal child slaves he kept, Vaun thought to himself. He wanted to kill the man, to rip his head from his body for all the atrocities he had committed. Mortimus wasn¡¯t just a slave owner, he was also a highly ranked guest of the carnival, that terrible show where slaves enacted deadly situations. The carnival Vaun attended was war themed, and the slaves were forced to kill each other while dressed in exquisite suits of armor. The carnival was grandiose, but barbaric and disgusting at heart. It was only after attending, that Vaun realized that most nobles participated and even enjoyed the carnival.

    He kept running through the tunnels, until the footsteps following him except one pair ceased. Vaun turned around and drew his dagger. He would fight this last pursuer, then get back and report the situation to Gerald Leblanc.

    He turned around and waited. Before long, a tall, hooded man appeared in the sewer tunnels in front of him. It was Mortimus¡¯ mage guard.

    ¡°So it¡¯s you,¡± Vaun sighed. He did not want conflict with a mage, but he drew a vial of turquoise liquid from his belt and uncorked it. It looked like conflict was inevitable.

    ¡°It is I¡­¡± said the hooded man, as his amulet began to glow faintly. He muttered an incomprehensible word, and a fireball appeared above his palm. The man extended his palm, and the fireball shot at Vaun with breakneck speed. Vaun barely dodged, as the fireball singed his hair.

    Vaun got up and drank the potion. Immediately, his body began to tremor as his teeth and hair grew longer, and his body expanded as he burst out of his clothing.

    ¡°What in the world?¡± the hooded man exclaimed, as he cast another fireball, which struck Vaun in the chest. Vaun shook off the painful blow, and charged at the hooded man.

    ¡°Oblitio!¡± the man shouted as Vaun ran towards him on all fours, and a white streak of light smote Vaun in the arm. He immediately felt his arm go limp, but he kept charging. The hooded man sent a few more fireballs, and Vaun howled in pain as he tanked the shots.

    He tackled the man down to the floor and bit into his shoulder, contacting flesh.

    ¡°Aghh!¡± The hooded man shouted in excruciating pain as his amulet glowed bright as the sun, and he casted another incantation. ¡°Infernus dracio!¡± An apparition of a large flaming dragon burst out into the open, blasting Vaun onto the ground as it started to burn him alive. Vaun ran back to gain distance, and the dragon apparition dissipated.

    He felt the beastial potion wearing off, as he returned back to human size. Vaun drew two daggers from his belt and threw them at the hooded man with practice.

    ¡°Ariz waera!¡± the hooded man shouted. With a swish of his wrist, both daggers flew by him harmlessly.

    Vaun cursed, and quickly drew two smoke bomb from what was left of his belt. He needed to retreat now. The mage was too strong, and he was injured. He threw the bombs onto the ground. Purple smoke filled the air, and he retreated back into the tunnel. He heard the sound of wind magic cutting through the smoke, but by the time the smoke was gone, he had also disappeared.

 Chapter 44: Bloodlust

    Forte waved away the purple smoke, realization spreading through his mind. That was Vaun. Of all people, why did it have to be him?

    He would let Vaun go for now¡ªhe had some questions for his old friend that would have to wait for later. Forte walked back through the decrepit tunnel until he emerged in the Beetley estate, where Mortimus Beetley sat at his desk, flanked by a troop of servants.

    ¡°You¡¯re back. Did you find out who the assassin was?¡±

    Forte massaged his damaged left shoulder, where the robe¡¯s fabric was ripped apart by Vaun¡¯s werewolf form. Mortimus¡¯ servants moved a heavy decorative tapestry of a Beetley ancestor in front of the hole in the room, sealing the hole temporarily.

    ¡°I know exactly who he is. An old friend called Vaun¡­ but I don¡¯t know who he¡¯s working for.¡±

    Mortimus shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Well, what are you waiting for? Find out who he¡¯s working for. The carnival? The mayor?¡±

    Forte snapped his finger, and a chair whizzed out from the side of the room, landing directly in front of Mortimus¡¯ desk. He sat down. ¡°Not so fast. First we talk business."

    Forte glanced at the servants in the room. ¡°Alone,¡± he demanded.

    Mortimus shooed his servants out of the room, then pulled out a pen and a piece of parchment, scribbling as he continued his work.

    The room was silent with the exception of the sound of pen on parchment. A moment passed. Then Forte began to speak. ¡°You promised a thousand silver, and the name of who you sold the ring to. Pay up.¡±

    Mortimus¡¯ eyes narrowed dangerous. ¡°Are you threatening me, boy? Do you know who I am?¡±

    Forte stood up slowly, pulling aside his robe at his chest. The amulet around his neck glistened in the dim candlelight of the study.

    ¡°Do you know what this is?¡± Forte said in a dark voice. The amulet sitting beneath his robe began to glow faintly, radiating heat. Mortimus¡¯ eyes widened in fear.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be¡­ It was lost centuries ago, during the war¡­.. But that insignia¡­ How can this be possible?¡± Mortimus said, fidgeting in his seat, his eyes darting around the room nervously as if he was looking forescape paths.

    Forte palmed the amulet carefully in his hand, almost caressing it. ¡°This is the Amulet of Darkness. One of the four lost seals. My heirloom.¡±

    Mortimus audibly gasped upon hearing those last two words.

    ¡°Now do you know who I am?¡± Forte placed his hand on Mortimus¡¯ table. The contents above the desk began totremorand vibrate like an earthquake was taking place.

    ¡°I am the last Motley. I am Lord Motley now.¡±

    The contents of the desk began vibrating even more violently, and the ink well splattered over the parchment on the desk.

    ¡°Now tell me, little pig, where is Sinclair¡¯s ring?¡±

    Mortimus nearly fainted, but he managed to piece together a few trembling words. ¡°S-sold it. Long time ago. To the King.¡±

    No sooner did Mortimus utter that last word than Forte vanish from his study, leaving only a slightly smoking handprint on Mortimus¡¯ mahogany desk.

    ----

    Forte scowled, pulling his hood lower as he walked down the streets of the capital. The King. Of course it was the King. Where else could it possibly be? Memories flooded back to him of his childhood, when the King visited his family¡¯s estate. The King was wearing a silver ring on his left hand. He had thought nothing of it then, only that it was shiny and that it had a strange design. The bite wound on his should was beginning to fester, and he was starting to feel slightly delirious.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    He wasfeeling anger tonight.Anger at his friend¡¯s unknowing betrayal.Anger at Mortimus¡¯ insolence.Anger upon finding out that of all people, Sinclair¡¯s ring now lay with his family¡¯s killer¡ªthe King.

    He was passing through the gutter of the capital city now. Children ate food off the dirty streets, and street vendors peddled insects and strange baubles. Unshapely women covered in tattoos and bruises paced up and down the streets, flaunting their bodies. But worst was the smell¡ªit was the smell of urine and vermin. He cut through an alleyway, attempting to escape the putrid air of the gutter. As he turned the corner and walked down the alley, a beggar child bumped into him.

    ¡°Mister, can you spare a coin, please? I¡¯m starving.¡±

    The beggar child was attempting to pickpocket him, rummaging through his robe pockets as he spoke.

    Forte grabbed the beggar child¡¯s hand, and threw it out of his pocket. As the child tried to run, he grabbed the beggar child by the neck and pinned him against the wall in the air, as the child swung his feet in protest. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­. sir¡­. please¡­. let me go¡­.¡± the child said.

    Forte was feeling many things tonight, but merciful was not one of those feelings. In fact, he felt quite the opposite. His blood was boiling. A word suddenly appeared in his mind, as if it was tempting him to say it. He tightened his grip around the beggar child¡¯s neck, and the child began to choke. The veins on Forte''s forearm began to bulge andbecomedark colored. He continued to tighten his vice-like grip.

    ¡°Seiza.¡±

    The beggar child convulsed violently, blood pouring out of his mouth, his eyesrolling back in a disturbing fashion.Forte''s amulet glowed as the blood price ofusing darkmagic took its toll. A wave of blood loss hit Forte, as his grip loosened and the beggar child slumped to the ground with his back against the dark alleyway, lifeless.

    ¡°Seiza¡­¡± Forte whispered, limping further into the alleyway, clutching his badly damaged left shoulder. He was feeling something he had never felt so strongly before. An overpowering, insatiable lust for blood swept across his tremoring body. And though he did not notice, the Amulet of Darkness was hot to touch, and his eyes had started to glow ice cold blue.

    -----

    Thoroughly drained, Forte slept at an inn until evening of the next day. He was unable to sleep anymore, and so he read A History of the Arcane during the night. His bloodlust had subsided somewhat. The next day, he rode for the Academy, and arrived during the evening.

    ¡°Did you hear the news?¡± Seamus asked him hastily. Forte was lounging on his bed, having just unpacked his belongings

    ¡°What news?¡± Forte asked sleepily.

    ¡°Of the recent vampire attack, in the gutters. They found a boy dead in an alley, drained of all his blood,¡± Seamus said in his spookiest voice. ¡°Can you believe that? What do you think did it?¡±

    Forte grimaced. He would need to take care of the body better next time. But he was in no shape to do anything that night. Even today, his shoulder still hurt like hell to move. Vaun had really caught him by surprise, and it seemed that the bite of a werewolf was not easy to heal.

    ¡°Probably just some monster,¡± he said, before slipping into his sheets.

    The next week and a half was uneventful. He attended classes, aced the combat lessons, and spent his free time digging through the Academy¡¯s musty library, where there were countless scrolls regarding obscure magics and the history of the realm.

    On Thursday afternoon, there was a knock at their door, and a package was slipped underneath. It was a letter.

    ¡°Oh sweet, a letter? For me? Please tell me it¡¯s a pretty girl confessing her love,¡± Seamus said enthusiastically as he ran to the door and snatched up the letter.

    ¡°To¡­ Forte Minot,¡± Seamus¡¯ expression sank. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s for you. Here, catch.¡±

    He threw the thin envelope to Forte, who caught it and ignited the seal on fire, opening the letter. He was thankful that whoever sent this letter used his fake last name, Minot, instead of his family name Mott. He didn¡¯t want the King to have any idea that one of the Mott family had survived, especially now that he was starting to piece together why his family was targeted. It made sense that the owner of the Sinclair ring would want to stamp out the last remaining descendants of house Motley.

    Mr. Mott,

    I hope this letter finds you soon. Avalon is under siege by orcs. They are bloodthirsty creatures. Your dragon has been wounded, we are heavily outnumbered and heavily outarmed, and we are losing men by the day. Send help.

    Frank Strongarm

    Forte folded the letter in half neatly.

    Infernus.

    The letter began smoldering, before burning into a crisp.

    ¡°Seamus¡­ what would happen if I take an extended leave for a week or two?¡± Forte asked.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s fine. Just let your professors know, and they will let you know what you will miss and how to make it up when you come back. This Academy is especially flexible with schedules because most of the students are noble children, meaning they have obligations that come up every so often. Just make sure you don¡¯t miss the first trimester exam period.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Forte said softly. ¡°I will let them know. I¡¯ll be back in a few weeks.¡±

    He wrote letters of temporary leaveto all of his professors and began packing his bags once more. He was worried about the state of Avalon, and even more worried about his dragon Nightmare.

    The next morning, he was on a carriage headed south to the town closest to the southmost edge of human civilization. From there, he would be close enough to contact Nightmare telepathically.

 Chapter 45: The Blood Price

    Tlot. Tlot. Tlot. Tlot.

    Forte gripped the sleeve fabric of his academy robes, staring out his carriage window absentmindedly. He had fallen ill¡ªhe¡¯d been getting chills this entire week, and it was only getting worse by the day. In the distance, he saw that they were approaching the southern outpost town of Maldon. Maldon was two days by horseback from the southern gate of the free city of Adith.

    The weather was getting progressively darker and gloomier as they approached the outskirts of the human realm. Dark clouds hung in the distance, and heavy winds swept the plains.

    The horses stopped and whinnied upon arriving at the gate.

    ¡°Whoa there,¡± the coachman said, before looking over his shoulder to address the passenger. ¡°We have arrived at Maldon outpost, Mister Mott. This is the furthest we can go in this weather.¡±

    Forte nodded in acknowledgment, and stepped out onto the damp dirt road. Slung on his back was his gray longsword Blothe, and a small knapsack of supplies and preserved food, including some tinder, a few candlesticks, a canteen of water, and a small journal.

    He entered the outpost town unceremoniously. There were still a fair amount of people remaining in the area, but it had seen busier days. The ever encroaching storm had driven many people inland, leaving only the tough and the stubborn in the outskirt towns. Forte could only imagine that it would be only a matter of weeks before the first monster attack, with the storm so close by.

    ¡°Slog leather armor here,¡± a merchant yelled. ¡°Only the finest from the merchant guild!¡±

    Forte glanced over and the stand. It was certainly not an official merchant guild stand, seeing as how there was no merchant guild insignia hanging above the peddler¡¯s little stand. He noticed that the patchy leather armor the peddler was offering was half muddy yellow and half brown. The merchant must have sewed in inferior leathers with the yellow slog hide. A less experienced eye may not have caught the difference.

    Forte felt cold, and hugged his robe close to his body. He would have to make his way through the wilderness alone, unless he could possibly stalk a game hunter caravan or a merchant caravan and use them as a measure of safety through the treacherous wilderness.

    He tried reaching out to Nightmare. No response. It looked like he would be traveling alone. It was getting dark, so he found a room at the local inn and turned in for the night. The room was cheap compared to the capital¡ªonly two silver pieces for a modest bed with little to no furnishings besides a small painting of a river on the wall, and a chest at the foot of the bed. But it was cold in the room¡ªunbearably cold. After tossing and turning for several hours and still being unable to sleep, he decided to take a walk.

    Cold. So cold. So unbearably cold. Forte was slightly dizzy from illness as he stumbled down the quiet streets, passing the town and walking into the fields. To the right, he could barely make out a small hut in the moonlight. He stumbled towards the hut, wanting to seek out its warmth.

    Before long, he stood face to face with the hut¡¯s door. Inside were the gentle snores of what seemed like a sleeping family. Forte grasped the doorknob, fueled by a strange desire to see what was inside.

    Infernus, he whispered under his breath. A black flame burst from his hand, consuming and cracking the doorknob, until it flaked away into a pile of ash. Somehow, every lick of the black flame made his hand feel weaker, and colder. He stepped inside. A large pot of warm stew sat over a small fire in the back. He counted the plates on the countertop. Four.

    From where he was standing, there was a door to the left and a door to the right. He walked towards the door to the left, the wooden floor creaking as he stepped forward in his black robes. The gentle sound of snoring seeped from both rooms. His amulet burned into his chest, but his body still felt an unearthly chill.

    He opened the door. Inside the room was a farmer and his wife sleeping beneath a heavy woolen blanket on a wooden bed. There was a book of prayers sitting on the night stand, and the last light of anearly burned out candle stick was all that illuminated the room.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Forte felt excitement. He felt a feverish rush racing through his body, sending tingles through his arms and legs. He walked up to the farmer and clasped his hands against the man¡¯s throat. The man woke up with a start, kicking and attempting to scream.

    Seiza, Forte muttered.

    The farmer convulsed violently, shuddering in his bed. The veins on Forte¡¯s arms pulsed black, as blood drained directly from the farmer¡¯s body into Forte¡¯s own. He felt a sense of warmth as the blood seeped into his body, but the blood tasted bitter. How strange. For some reason, he could taste the blood exchange even though it was not making any physical contact with his mouth. The farmer¡¯s essence coursed through his veins. It was rough, bitter, and unrefined. Disgusting.

    ¡°Aahhhh!!!!¡± the farmer¡¯s wife screamed, having woken up.

    ¡°Silence!¡± Forte hissed, loosening his grip on the unconscious farmer¡¯s neck. He wrestled with the woman, who was frantically trying to push him off, before grasping the struggling woman¡¯s wrists. He pinned down her arms to the bed, his amulet glowing red hot in anticipation. The amulet was vibrating in place, almost in a melodic fashion.

    ¡°Seiza,¡± he said, and he began the extraction.

    Warmth spilled into his body, and he breathed a labored sigh of relief as the chill was dispelled from his body. The woman¡¯s blood had a sweeter, more subdued tone to it, compared to the farmer¡¯s course and bitter blood. As the sweet blood coursed through his veins, a fiery energy swelled up and burned through his entire body. Mana overflowed from his veins, and a faint black wisp of vapor appeared as he exhaled through his mouth.

    He felt alive.

    He released the woman, who collapsed in a heap next to her husband. Curiously, both of them had survived the ordeal, and were breathing very gently. Feeling satisfied, Forte decided not to kill either of them. He doubted that they would be able to remember this night, after he had drained so much stamina and blood from their veins.

    So this was Elmund Motley¡¯s legacy, he thought to himself. The amulet of house Motley. The blackest of black magic. The blood price. The dark art of breaking through the limitations of a caster¡¯s stamina, by burning one of the purest of all mana catalysts¡ªblood. And not just any blood. Motley blood, which was thick in magical energy.

    And now he was no longer limited to his own veins, either. Now he could use other people¡¯s blood and fuse it with his own to pay the blood price. It would not be as efficient aspure Motley blood, but using it would slow the depletion of his own blood reserves. Magic fueled by blood sacrifice seemed to take on the properties of the blood used. And so higher quality blood would produce more destructive results. Using more refined blood would create more refined spells. And using course, bitter blood would result in rough magic.

    And of course, using Motley blood would grant spells a tinge of unparalleledbelligerence.

    Now that he had had a taste of true power, he lusted for more. Enough power to crush the King and all his armies. Power to bring all the world to its knees at his beckoning.

    ¡°Dada?¡±

    Forte¡¯s eyes whipped back. A three year old girl dressed in a ragged sleeping shirt was at the doorway of the bedroom. She was clutching a small pillow.

    ¡°Mama?¡±

    A strange wave of feeling hit Forte at the sight of the girl. For a moment, he vaguely felt her mother¡¯s love.

    He would be merciful tonight. He walked over to the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Sleep tight, little one.¡±

    At the sound of his magically infused voice, she collapsed into his arms. Forte picked her up and carried her over to the bed, laying her in between her parents. He walked out of the hut, closing the door gently behind him.

    Tonn, he murmured, and a tendril of a plant emerged from the ground and snaked its way up the door, forming a new wooden doorknob. It seemed that the mother had an affinity for the earth element. Unlike him. Warmth permeated through his veins as he walked down the unlit path to the inn. He returned to his room, took a quick bath, and then collapsed onto his bed.

    ¡ª

    Forte prepared to leave early the next day. He called out telepathically to Nightmare in the morning, but again there was no answer. He was starting to get worried, and the sooner he could returnto Avalon and reinforce his town against the orcs, the better.

    At mid-day, he began his journey, stepping past the marked boundaries of the outpost town and into the wilderness, where the law of the jungle ruled. There were no caravans heading in or out of the outpost, and so he carried his things and set out on foot, carefully unsheathing Blothe. There were damp trees branches everywhere, which he hacked away. He pressed his senses carefully, trying to locate any sign of hostile life. There was nothing so far.

    The first day opened without any problems. Forte collected some nuts and berries that he hadread in the scroll A Game Hunter¡¯s Guide to the Wildernessfrom the Academy''s extensive library.Juniper berries were nutritious and easy to find, although he could only find a few nuts here and there. He hunted and roasted a hare for lunch, cooking and eating it at the top of a rocky outcrop so he could maintain a perimeter of visibility as he ate.

    While he was not concentrating on finding a path and mapping out the area, Forte did some light swordsmanship drills and practiced magic manipulation during sword fighting. He discovered that it was incredibly difficult to cast spells while swinging a sword.

    On the second day, Forte noticed several fresh orc tracks in the mud. He was getting close.

 Chapter 46: Calm before the storm

    ¡°It¡¯s soggy,¡± Scarlett sighed, patting down on the sponge cake with the back of her fork. She was sitting on the balcony of the highest tower in Farrador castle, in her bedroom. The castle was built on a treacherous mountain, and from the extremely high tower vantage point, a person could see the jagged edges of the mountain, soft grasslands, and a fast flowing mountainous river cutting through the steep path. A massive iron drawbridge was all that connected the castle with the world below. Farrador castle was designed to be impenetrable, and that certainly was the case.

    It was overcast today, and gray clouds hung over the tower balcony. ¡°My lady, that¡¯s what sponge cake is supposed to be like, and that is what you requested,¡± her butler replied.

    ¡°It¡¯s gross. Please send this back to the kitchen.¡± Scarlett pushed away the cake plate with a slight hint of annoyance. ¡°And please tell the chef to send something nicer upstairs or I will tell father that we need a new head chef.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lady.¡± The butler bowed and then disappeared to relay the order to the kitchen.

    As the butler left, Scarlett twisted her fingers and whispered something inaudibly into the air. A moment later, a well worn black leather-bound book zoomed out from underneath her dresser and onto her desk. It was a book of questionable material that she borrowed from her friend, as her father and her retainers would never let her buy something so inappropriate for someone of her stature. She reading where she had left off, and before long a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.

    ----

    The incessant rainstorms and heavy winds taking their toll on Forte. He had been traveling for nearly three weeks now, and was beginning to resort to eating half raw foods because he could not maintain a fire for longer than a few minutes at a time, no matter how much magic and stamina he poured into maintaining the flame with Infernus. Using blood to fuel his magic was not an option when he was already delirious from malnutrition. A two week long journey was quickly turning into something much more treacherous.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The landscape seemed to be shifting as well, as violent tremors in the earth were occurring with alarming frequency the further south he traveled. The effects on terrain were both physical and magical in property, as entire small mountain passeshad formed in places that were only hills before.

    The beasts and wildlife were restless, sensing the changes even more vicariously than any human could. Forte could no longer count how many mauled remains of slogs, wolves, deer, sheep, and even a wyvern that he had come across. He was fortunate to have not come across anything more dangerous than a wolf so far, but he knew that his luck would have to run out some time. He was mentally prepared¡ªhis plan to deal with anything the size of a wyvern or larger was to cast a powerful illusory Infernusspell of a fiery dragon or something similar and retreat as the animal was distracted. He was not defenseless by himself, but he would very much prefer if Nightmare was by his side, as he always was before.

    Nightmare still couldn¡¯t be contacted telepathically. Forte was worrying now, because it clearly wasn¡¯t an issue of distance¡ªhe was less than a week away by foot if the weather cleared and the terrain stopped shifting.

    As if he didn¡¯t have enough to worry about, Forte also noticed numerous traces of orcs moving in force across the countryside. That must have been what Frank was talking about in the letter¡ªhe had already seen several abandoned cooking pots scattered with deer bone, makeshift tents and camps that could fit twenty human adults, and the tell-tale bone tooth necklaces that orcs used as ornamentation.

    Orcs were known to sometimes raid small outpost towns, but generally they had no reason to encroach human territory. According to A Modern History of the World, orcs were seasonally nomadic. They grew crops during the summer months, and would migrate with herds of buffolaur mammoths during the winter months when food was scarce and crops weren¡¯t enough to sustain their entire population. However, they would generally return to their settled lands once the harsh winter months were over.

    And that was why this behavior was alarmingly different. For some reason, the orcs were now migrating en masse, and as far as Forte could tell, they were bringing everything with them, even their camps.

 Chapter 47 - Final Chapter, the end.

    On a hunt for the heirlooms of power, Forte takes an extended leave from the academy to hunt down Sinclair''s ring. He tears through nobles and slave traders alike, looking for any signs of the ring passing ownership. With his Motley family''s blood amulet aroud his neck, Forte becomes an unstoppable harbringer of death as he ignites the Motley blood running through his veins as fuel for destructive black magic. He has become what his family bloodline once was-- fiery tempered, violent, and destructive wielders of some of the most powerful magical artifacts to have ever existed.

    And then there is Nightmare, the black dragon. A physical symbol of Forte''s ever growing power. The haughty black dragon, once about as long as Forte''s arm, has grown into a terrifying, handsome tower of a draconian monstrosity. His signature black fire, able to burn even in the rain and snow, becomes the ultimate show of force as Forte takes on his original enemy, the King.

    ------

    Vaun''s true identity. As Forte was revealed to be a Motley, and the last living blood heir of the Motley heirlooms including the Amulet, Vaun is revealed to be a Sinclair much later on and heir to Sinclair''s Ring. The two, once blood brothers, drifted apart due to circumstances even before Vaun discovers his true heritage.

    This eventually leads to another bloody Motley-Sinclair war, as history repeats itself for the final time, with Forte Motley representing the Motley bloodline of fire and blood magic, and Vaun Sinclair representing the Sinclair bloodline of wind and darkness magic. Forte forges a war path using his city Avalon as a base for his operations, mining vast amounts of mithril to arm a budding army.

    Vaun finally takes vengeance on his father for abandoning him, seizing his father''s merchant dynasty and control of the Merchant''s Guild. With vast amounts of silver at his disposal and a fear invoking last name, Sinclair, he raises a terrifying mercenary and conscript army to face Forte. He also awakens the slumbering Golden phoenix, who was born centuries ago during the last Sinclair dynasty.

    The two brothers bitterly battle it out for a veritable eternity. Avalon versus the Merchant Guild. Fire versus Wind. Blood versus Darkness. Black dragon versus Golden phoenix.

    As the war rages on, the Great Storm finally reaches the center of the continent. Monsters spill into humanity''s final bastions of territory, as the rain and thunder brought by the Great Storm allow all sorts of monsters to penetrate through the empire''s defenses.

    Despite all this chaos, Forte simply disappears one day, to resolve a personal matter.

    -------

    The waiter in the tower scene. The first scene that was envisioned from the moment this story began. Forte is hired at the royal kitchen while disguised as a cook. He works at the kitchen as a grunt for months, with only on purpose in mind. One day, things fall into place. He''s given the order to send a dish up to the princess'' quarters, in the highest tower of the imperial palace.

    This was the situation he carefully manufactured through months of masquerading as a cook. This was when he would finally strike back at the King, who had his entire family murdered when he was still a child. He would kidnap the King''s daughter, Princess Scarlett, a beautiful girl that was his classmate at the academy and was a childhood acquaintance back when the King frequented his family''s household on diplomatic terms. It is later revealed that Princess Scarlett''s birth mother, the Queen, was half elf. This was one of the King''s most closely guarded secrets.

    Disguised as a cook, Forte enters the Princess'' chambers with her favorite late night dish, an exquisite mango pudding. The Princess thanks Forte for delivering the dish, unable to see through his disguise and recognize him as her classmate and childhood acquaintance. This was the moment he had been preparing for since the day he joined the royal kitchen. Forte grabs the Princess and ties her wrists together, then slings her slender body over his shoulder as he walks to the balcony of the tower.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    As the highest tower in the palace, the view is absolutely breathtaking, from the jagged mountainside to the river and moat surrounding the castle. Forte''s next move is surprising. He steps precariously onto the ledge of the balcony as the princess struggles, believing that she''s about to be thrown off.

    And just like that, with Scarlett on his shoulder, Forte dives off the balcony and plummets towards the ground, which was hundreds of feet away.

    At that moment, Nightmare swoops in and catches the falling duo on his back. Scarlett is flown back to an old abandoned castle that Forte previously claimed as his own, and she is taken prisoner. Forte wears a mask to hide his identity, and gives Scarlett instructions for her imprisonment. He treats her well as a diplomatic prisoner, granting her freedom to explore the castle while he is gone, but informing her of the magic wards that prevented any escape.

    Scarlett attempts to escape every day in the first week, only to be foiled every time, as Forte spent the days sending threats and forcing negotiations with the King, using his daughter as the source of his threats. Scarlett goes through phases of several emotions.

    First was fear, fear of the horrible things that her captor could do to her in her current defenseless state. Next was curiosity, at why her captor was so adamant on being mute and not trying to do anything to her besides feed her and force her to stay within the castle. In fact, her captor slept in his own chambers, while Scarlett slept in the guest room. And the final stage that sets in is boredom, when she realizes that she''s being treated quite well, there''s no threat, but there''s also nothing to do in the castle besides explore the rooms and read from the library.

    This finally leads to the thunder and bed scene. This is the second and last scene that was envisioned from the very beginning. One particular night, a storm was brewing. Scarlett is deathly afraid of thunder and can''t sleep. Her body is shivering from fear from under the covers, as she''s unable to decide what to do trapped in this massive castle without any source of comfort.

    After much internal conflict, she gets up and walks to Forte''s bed chambers, creeping into his bed. It''s strange to see a kidnapped captive willingly get closer to her captor, but that''s what happens in this situation. Even in his sleep, Forte is still wearing his mask that concealed his identity. Scarlett was surprised by how lax Forte was with his own defenses, as if he didn''t consider that she could hurt him in his sleep. She considers attacking Forte while he''s still sleeping, but the mask on his face was just too tempting. Her curiosity got the better of her--she wanted to know what her captor looked like.

    Scarlett lifts the mask from Forte''s face, and she swallows as she recognizes him. He''s much older now, in his twenties, compared to when they were teenagers in academy. His face was more refined and mature than before, and his body was muscular. Scarlett lays her head on his slowly breathing chest, and falls asleep with her arm and leg wrapped around Forte. His body gives her a sense of security, as she lets her guard down in this strange situation.

    -------

    Months later, Forte returns to Avalon with the captive princess in tow. Because of Nightmare''s presence in Avalon, the city repelled a full on assault from Vaun and the Merchant Guild''s full force.

    The two resume their war, both sides seemingly oblivious of the fact that the Great Storm was painting a path of monster destruction straight through the empire, as civilians and imperial soldiers alike were torn apart by all sorts of monsters. At Forte''s castle, which was a completely sheltered existence from the horrors outside, Princess Scarlett was now visiting Forte''s bed chambers to curl up next to him every night. She even began to cook for him, but Forte still did not acknowledge her in any way.

    The final Motley-Sinclair war was written into the history textbooks. It never technically ended. Forte pushed Vaun back to the south, where Vaun established a new nation called Leonis. Meanwhile, Forte seized control of a collapsing empire and established himself as Prince Motley, taking Scarlett as his wife and Princess. Scarlett Motley became a terrifying Princess, cunning and calculating at every turn, as well as a powerful sorceress with the heirloom brooch Forte gifted her. As for the king... Forte kept the king alive, but held him captive and stripped him of all his power. Forte was now King, in all but name.

    With the full military might of Avalon and Nightmare, monsters were killed on sight. It was impossible to push them back because the Great Storm had become a permanent weather fixture, and so it became a deadly but necessary job for the army to repel monsters as they showed up.

    And so a new era of relative prosperity began under Forte and Scarlett''s rule, although there always was the imminent threat of raptors on the horizon.