《The Treasure of Virenor》
Chapter 1 – The Learned Man
Naren walked through the courtyard of ash. Each step blew little flakes of ash into the air. Ash fell from the sky, burying the dead, the dying, the decaying, in a cloud of grey. He walked to the edge of the courtyard and looked down to the city of the dead.
The ash covered everything. Small fires raged in some portions of the city, but the ash would soon snuff them out as well. It was quiet, too quiet. The quiet of the dead. A passerby might, assume the city was sleeping, but even then, the city would not be so quiet. Naren felt about as alive as the ones, he had crossed on his way here.
It was not always like this, thought Naren. It was once the jewel of an empire. An empire, the likes of which the world had never seen before and never will. An empire that stretched beyond the mountains in the west to the south, where the land met the great sea.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Naren would have cried if there was anything left within him. He had become a shell after a lifetime of fighting. His body ached, the cuts across his body burned with a sharp pain, but the sensation like all others was dulled. These days, he did not feel much.
He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. How many months had it been since he had slept peacefully? Without dreams. Without those questioning eyes. Those haunting eyes that always asked the same question ¨C Why?
¡°It¡¯s about time you slept, father.¡± Naren heard his son¡¯s voice.
Chapter 2 – The Swords Soul
Dagan''s eyes widened as he read the words. His best friend, Toren, sharpened the sword with a whetstone in the blacksmith shop they ran together. Toren was the blacksmith hammering out the swords, while Dagan was the Artificer who enchanted them to meet the customers'' needs. The sword Toren was working on was Dagan''s new sword, which he planned to take with him on his expedition to Mount Lakiah to find the Learned Man.
He reread the words with unbelieving eyes.
¡to gain the power to slay ghosts, one must imbue their sword with the same otherworldly power that the spirits possess¡to make a holy blade, the goddess Kehamia demands a willing human sacrifice¡
+1 Knowledge
Dagan almost chucked the book into the furnace. "This cannot be."
"Hmm?" Toren looked up from the blade.
"In order to make a holy blade, I need to make a human sacrifice," Dagan said.
"Are you sure this is the Artificer''s Book of Holy spells and enchantments and not the nefarious god, Hetain''s Book of curses?" Toren joked as he did in most situations.
"Toren, I''m serious. Come, take a look yourself."
His friend barked a laugh. "Unlike His Lordship, my father was a blacksmith. Oh, and I cannot read, remember."
"But I''ve been teaching you the letters since we were kids," Dagan protested. "Anyways, without this enchantment, the sword won''t have the power to slay evil spirits."
The leather curtain that separated the front of the shop from the back opened, and a richly dressed boy with a smug smile stepped in.
"Slay evil spirits?" asked Musgaar, or Musker as he was known in the village, thanks to the pungent odor that always came from off the plumpy lad. He was the son of a petty noble who had the deed of this village. Like all nobles who let even the faintest of power go to their heads, he was a brat and a bully. "What evil spirits are you planning to slay, Dagan?"
"That is not your concern," Dagan replied, biting back the curse that was on the tip of his tongue.
If it were just Musgaar, he was of no concern, but he had brought two of his lackeys with him. They were tall and strong, bigger than Dagan and Toren, and if it came blows, Toren might as well not even be counted. He was pathetic in a fight despite his beefy arms. So, Dagan would have to endure him for as long as he must.
"Oh, come now," Musgaar said. "Don''t be such a prude. After all, don''t I own this shop?"
"We rent this shop from your father," Dagan shot back. "You don''t own a single thing in this shop."
Toren squeezed his arm, telling him to calm down. He jerked his arm away lightly, and his friend let go of it. He could''ve held on to it if he wanted to, as his grip was like iron.
"Tch, tch, tch, looks like the dog''s teeth have been broken, but it continues to bark at its master," Musgaar said.
Dagan breathed in deep. "What did you say?"
"I said, or shall I say, I meant that your family''s been kicked out of your ancestral home. All your estates and properties have been seized, yet almost fifty years later, you still act like a noble."
"I am a noble!" Dagan exclaimed.
"In name only." Musgaar walked about the place and picked up a helm. "Soon, even that will be stripped from you, and then you will tumble out of existence and roll around in the muck." He let the helm drop, where it clanged loudly on the ground.
Dagan''s hands trembled, and before he gave Musgaar the excuse he was looking for, Toren stepped in. "My lord, Dagan and I were discussing how to create a sword that could vanquish evil spirits. It was just idle talk. You see, Dagan found this book that says for us to create a sword, we need a willing human sacrifice. See, look here." He held up the book.
¡°Toren!¡± Dagan hissed.
"It''s okay. I''m sure His Lordship was just curious," Toren said.
"Now, here is someone who understands how to give respect to his betters." Musgaar gave Dagan a side-long glance before snatching the book from Toren''s hands. His eyes quickly inspected the open pages, and he barked a laugh. "Now, that is funny indeed. Whoever would be mad enough to sacrifice themselves for a bleeding sword."
"Which is why I am not attempting to infuse this enchantment with the sword." Dagan moved to take the book back, but one of his brutes stepped up between them. "If I wanted to harm your master, I would''ve killed you first."
Musgaar snapped the book shut and rubbed his chin. "If I can get you that willing soul, will you make this sword for me?"
"What?" Dagan cried. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Watch your tone," said the brute blocking Dagan''s path.
"You need a willing soul," said Musgaar. "I''ll provide you that soul, take this sword off your hands, and give you a hundred gold coins. So, you don''t think you''ve been cheated out of a good sword."
"Not for a thousand gold coins would I do such an evil enhancement," Dagan said. "Looks like you didn''t read the whole thing. If you had, you would know that the sacrificed soul would be trapped in the sword forever. That''s how the blade will gain the power to harm spirits as it would house something of the same make as them."
Musgaar waved a hand. "Who cares about the details? Just get it done."
"I won''t do it for you."
"Nice choice of words." He dropped the book and left without another word.
Toren breathed a sigh of relief. "For a moment, I thought you were going to cut him open right here in the shop."
"I was going to cut him open right here in the shop."
"Dagan, you need to let it go," Toren said. "And I didn''t like the look in his eye when he left. He''s sure to cause some mischief. It''s best to put whatever enchantments you want and hurry on your way."
"What? Now? It''ll be sundown soon," Dagan protested.
"Trust me on this, friend. The sooner you leave the village, the better it will be for everyone."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Then, let''s get to work."
Dagan and Toren spent the next several hours perfecting the blade. Toren put the finishing touches hastily. He grumbled about not having enough time to finish it but did his best. Meanwhile, Dagan readied the ingredients for the enchantments he had planned to put on the sword. If he had the time, he would''ve done his due diligence and ensured the sword was infused with all the necessary enchantments to take on any monster.
By the time he finished, it was dark outside, but his sword was gleaming. The firelight reflected in its blade as if it were a shiny mirror, and the sword''s stats were almost as good as any legendary sword.
+15% Chance to cause Bleeding
+15% Dismember Bonus
+20% Bonus damage against monsters
+20% Critical Hit Chance
+50% Critical Hit Damage
"There you go," Toren said. "A perfect sword to take on any monster, though you might have a hard time with wraiths, but then you always have your legs for that. Run as fast as you can, just like you should be doing now."
Dagan nodded. "Thank you, brother. I could not have done it without you."
"Aw, you''re going to make me cry. Now, quickly head home, grab your pack, and hit the road."
There was a muffled sound coming from the shop as if a woman had been gagged. Dagan tightened the grip on his sword. A moment later, the leather curtain furled open, and Musgaar returned.
"Oh, no need to hurry," he said. "I''ve come myself to collect my sword, and look, I''ve brought a willing sacrifice."
He stepped aside and held the curtain aside as one of his brutes dragged in Dagan''s wife.
"Raemina!" Dagan cried and sprang for her.
"I wouldn''t be too hasty, for you haven''t seen all your guests," Musgaar said.
His second brute walked in with Dagan''s sons, Deihan and Raelmir. His scummy hands were around his sons'' throats, and their mouths were gagged with a dirty cloth.
"Unhand my sons!" Dagan roared. He moved to kill them all, but what Musgaar said next chilled him to the bone.
"Boys, if he moves without my consent, slay his family."
Dagan stilled. His anger threatened to burst outwards and destroy the brat for hurting his family, but he cared more for their safety. He couldn''t risk it even if he could take them all.
+1 Wisdom
+1 Patience
"What is the meaning of this?" Dagan snapped.
"You asked for a willing soul that wouldn''t mind being sacrificed for your sword." He flourished a hand towards Raemina. "Here you go, but don''t take my word for it. Let''s ask her."
The brute drove her to her knees and yanked the gag out of her mouth. Tears streamed down her bruised face as she called out his name. ¡°D-Dagan, what is happening?¡± She broke down into whimpers.
Dagan didn''t dare move, not even to comfort her. His boys weren''t any better. They cried and called out for their father, but the gags muffled their little voices.
"It''s okay, my lady," Musgaar said. "After all, you are a noble lady, even if you were born a filthy peasant. But that''s not what we''ve gathered here to discuss. Let me ask you the same question that I asked you in your home¡ªwould you give your life so your sons could live?"
"Y-Yes."
"Of course, you would. Which mother wouldn''t." He turned to Dagan, flourishing his arms wide. "And hence, a willing sacrifice. Imbue her soul into my sword, or I will slit your boys'' little throats."
"Why?" Dagan said through gritted teeth. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because your family used to do this to us when we were beneath you. When we had to lick your boots. Oh, my grandfather told me many stories of your great family, and I used to pray that a day came when I could return the favor."
"You''re taking revenge for imagined slights that may or may not have happened half a century ago," Dagon shouted and would''ve cut the vile man''s throat if Toren hadn''t gripped his sword arm.
Musgaar breathed heavily. "Are you calling your Lord a liar?"
Toren stepped in. "My Lord, it doesn''t need to be her. I''m sure we can find someone else."
"No, we cannot. Where else will I find such a willing sacrifice?" Musgaar smiled viciously. "Now, shall we get to sacrificing, or would you like to choose one of the boys?"
Raemina gasped. "No¡" She crawled forward on her knees. "I''ll be a willing sacrifice. Please don''t do anything to my children."
The boys wept, Raemina begged, Toren tried once more to reason with the cruel brat, and Dagan was in his personal hell. He stared at the sword, and the more he stared, the more he knew it was the root of all his troubles. With a mighty roar, he chucked the sword into the glowing furnace.
Musgaar yelled an order to his brutes to get the sword out immediately. He wanted to kill Musgaar. Long had he wanted to put this brat out of his misery, but his brute still had a knife at his sons'' throats.
Despite the shouting, Dagan didn''t hear anything. His eyes only beheld his wife''s weeping eyes. He vowed that Musgaar would pay for each of her tears.
Then, the sword came back in Dagan''s vision. Musgaar was holding it with a pair of tongs by the blade. "I''m sure it''s quite cool."
Dagan glared at him with murder in his eyes. He gripped the sword, and fumes hissed out from his hand. The hilt burned, but Dagan did not let go. He wanted it to burn, for this would be his sacrifice. Raemina and Toren cried out, but he didn''t let go of the hilt.
"It''s okay. I''m fine," Dagan lied. The pain brought tears to his eyes, and the blade was seared into his hand.
"I was going to be nice, but since you decided to destroy my blade, I''m going to destroy your soul," Musgaar said.
"I''ll do it," Dagan said. His eyes couldn''t meet Raemina''s. "I''ll k-kill¡ª"
"Oh no, you didn''t let me finish. I''m not going to sacrifice your wife. No, as punishment, I''m going to sacrifice one of your sons, and the best part is you get to choose which one."
Dagan went cold. A fear like none other seeped into his soul. He looked at his boys, and they quivered as they wept. Their mother tried crawling to them, only for the brute to pull her back by her hair.
He could do nothing but watch, frozen in place by the knives at the throats of his children. But then someone moved beside him.
Toren gently lifted the sword by its blade and made a cut on his neck. Blood sprouted immediately. He placed a hand on his bleeding neck and fell to his knees.
"You mad fool, what have you done?" Dagan cried.
Toren smiled a bloody smile. "As if I would''ve let you harm my nephews. I''ll be the fucking sacrifice. It''s not like I have anyone to weep after me."
Dagan dropped the sword and hugged the man who was like a brother to him. "No, no, no¡"
"He was going to kill you all," Toren huffed, his eyes growing hazy. "I go willingly. Now pick up the sword, plunge it into my heart, and say the damned words or my death will be for nothing."
He gently laid his friend down as his wife wailed, and his children watched in horror. He picked up the sword with a quivering hand and placed the tip over his friend''s chest.
"I love you, brother," Dagan whispered. "Thank you¡"
Toren was in no condition to reply. His breathing slowed, and his eyes rolled up into his head.
Dagan drew a deep breath and plunged the blade into his heart, ending his life.
"Now, say the words," Musgaar said. "You don''t want his death to be in vain, do you?"
Dagan''s rage returned. He spoke the words as he glared at the noble brat.
Holy Magic Added: You can destroy the wicked souls of monsters and evil spirits and hurt ethereal beings.
He held up the sword to Musgaar. "It''s done." He reached for the sword, but Dagan pulled away. "First, let my family go."
"I was hoping to destroy your family, but I suppose he was family, too.
"He was," Dagan said. "Now, let them go."
He waved to his men, and they did. His family rushed to him as Musgaar snatched the sword from Dagan''s hand, and he let him.
They crashed into him, and he hugged them tight as they huddled over the body of the man who gave his life for them. He was more than a brother, and he was wrong. They would weep for him and carry this grief in their hearts, for they owed him a debt they could never repay.
"Raemina, hold the kids tight," he whispered.
She frowned at first but nodded and put her arms around the boys.
Then Dagan drew Silverfang and fell into the Lion Slasher stance.
"Then what?" Roverin asked, lifting his feathered quill from a leather-bound book.
"What do you think I did?" Dagan replied.
The old ghost smiled. "Oh, I''m imagining lots of justified vengeance, but that is a heavy price to pay for a thing of metal." He grew quiet for a long time. "What did you name the sword?"
"Soul Breaker."
"Ah, because it vanquishes wicked souls."
Dagan shook his head. "No, because it broke my soul to create it."
Roverin gave Dagan a sad smile and scribbled something in the book.
"What are you writing in that book?" Dagan asked. The ghost had been writing away even since Dagan began his tale.
"Your story," Roverin replied. "How else am I to remember all that you''ve said? This way, I''ll pull out this book and remember you when I get bored. Eternity is a long time, and I want lots of reading material. Say, who taught you how to fight?"
Dagan opened his mouth to refuse, but the ghost replied.
"It''s just another story, and I assure you your treasure is not running away. It''ll still be there."
Dagan sighed. "Fine, but it''s the last one."
"After yours, I''ll tell you one of mine."
Chapter 3 – The Fathers Path
Dagan ducked a blow from the wooden sword in time before it set his head to ringing. It swished through his hair like a scythe through fields of wheat. He panted, desperately trying to catch a breath, but his instructor did not let up.
His next blow came at his ribs, which Dagan managed to deflect, but their swords rang something fierce, and he nearly dropped his blade. It was like his whole arm had been struck numb by lightning. It threw him off balance, and his opponent capitalized on it. He struck his wrist, making Dagan cry out and drop his sword.
"You''re too slow," Salorin said.
"You are nearly three times my age," Dagan countered.
"You''re fourteen. You''re almost a man," his father countered. Dagan''s father was a bear of a man. He had dark hair and a broad build that made the town guards seem feverish compared to him. Unfortunately, Dagan hadn''t inherited that from him, or at least not yet.
A part of him never wanted to be anything like him. His father was cold, strict, and hard on him for reasons that were beyond Dagan. On many nights, he would lie awake in bed and make plans to run away from home, but he hadn''t found the courage to follow through on those plans.
"Stop rubbing your wrist. Pick up your sword, and let''s go again," Salorin commanded. "Fall into the Skull Crusher stance."
"Yes, sir," Dagan practically whimpered. He wanted to drop to the ground and feign unconsciousness, but that would only earn a kick to the ribs.
He held his sword high and brought it down on his father''s head. His anger fueled his strength even if his wrist ached. He wanted to do anything but jostle with his old man. Salorin dodged to the side while flowing into the Windbreaker stance, and if he went on the offensive, Dagan would be going to bed with several bruised bones.
He did not fancy that at all. So, he kept up his assault because anything but would be less than unacceptable. He kept up with his father as he spun around Dagan, but he didn''t even manage to scratch his old man.
Finally, Dagan gave up. He dropped the sword and huffed with his hands on his knees.
+2 Skull Crusher
+3 Agility
+2 Strength
+5 Stamina
Like always, his father showered him with praise.
"You gave up too easily," Salorin scorned.
¡°I¡did the best¡I could," Dagan snapped between breaths.
"Your best is not good enough." He gripped his shirt''s collar. "I won''t always be here to protect you. You need to do better."
Dagan pushed him away. "I''m doing the best I can, okay? I don''t see any other father drilling their son like you."
"Because we are not like them. We were¡ª"
"Yes, yes, I''ve heard it all before. We were nobles and lorded over the petty nobles. Well, Father, I do not care about being a noble or finding the treasure that cost us everything."
Salorin gritted his teeth. "Watch your tone, boy."
"Whatever." Dagan kicked the practice sword lightly, hopped the fence, and walked off to spend the evening with Toren. I''m sure his father doesn''t care about training until his limbs fall off.
"I''m sure he has a good reason for it," Toren said, lightly slapping Dagan''s back.
"Yes, he does," Dagan said. "He means to kill me. If Mother were here, she wouldn''t have let him go through with it. She used to protect me so much from him."
He dropped his head in his hands. Why did you have to go early, Ma¡
His mother had passed on to the otherworld three years ago, and ever since then, his life had been consumed with training. He actually looked forward to days when he was too sick to train. Those were the only days he got to rest. Even right now, his father was probably fuming because Dagan was wasting time.
"I don''t know what to say," Toren said, feeling awkward. "I wish I could say you can come live with us, but we barely have enough to eat as it is."
Dagan patted his friend''s arm. "Nothing would make me happier, but Father dearest would just drag me back, but enough about him. How about yourself?"
"My training is going very well." He talked about his training with his father and Uncle. Their conversation veered to their shared dream. Like always, he brightened whenever they spoke of their dream of owning a blacksmithing shop where Toren would be the blacksmith and Dagan the Artificer, enchanting and infusing the swords and armor with a variety of enchantments.
"Could you imagine spending all day doing what we love?" Toren exclaimed.
"You have no idea how much I want that," Dagan grinned.
"Toren!" his mother called, waving a hand from the door. "Come, the food is ready."
"Oh, I''ve got to go." He stood dusting off his backside. Dagan''s face fell, and his friend noticed right away. "Hey, why don''t you come to eat dinner with us?"
"Are you sure that is okay?" Dagan asked, knowing that food was pretty tight for them.
"Anything for you, brother." Toren smiled his knowing smile.
It was like he just knew what Dagan needed, and he always came through for him. Dagan hoped that he could do the same for his friend one day.
Dagan nursed his bruised fingers and pride. He had miscalculated a blow and caught the blow on his fingers instead of his blade. Thank the gods, it was only a practice blade.
His father looked at his hand and grunted. "You won''t be able to train today. Come. We have errands to run."The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Thank the gods," Dagan exclaimed. "I mean, sure. Lead the way, father."
A few years had passed, and he was almost eighteen. Still, he could hardly best his father, though he had gotten stronger and faster. He was coming closer each day to putting his father in the dirt, not vice versa.
He followed Salorin, and they walked silently as they usually did. Despite the long years that had passed, their relationship remained much the same. The only time they really talked was when they trained or about what to make for food. However, Salorin''s berating his son had lessened of late. Other than that, Dagan might as well have lived with the walls. But still, he cared for his old man. He didn''t speak much, but he made sure Dagan was always fed and didn''t want for anything.
There was a pain in his father''s eyes that Dagan knew about but could do nothing to alleviate that pain. It was about their lost wealth and stature. Although the whole thing had happened many decades ago, they were still noble, even if only in name. They could earn back their wealth through other means if they tried.
"Look, there goes the pauper nobles," snickered a couple of boys on the side of the road.
Dagan''s fury rose at once. He turned to them, fists clenched. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," the boy smirked.
He was about Dagan''s age, even if he was slightly taller. Dagan knew he could take him and his friend if it came to blows.
"Just that, you look awfully underdressed for a trip to the market, My Lord." They both howled with laughter as if it were a great joke.
"I''m dressed just right to put the lot of you in your place." Dagan rolled up his sleeves and had taken but two steps when his father clicked his tongue, which meant, ''come back here.''
"That''s right, My Lord. You should listen to your father and not dirty your clothes.
"They''re probably the only clothes he has left," said the other.
Dagan drew a sharp breath and was about to give them a fitting reply when his father grunted. "Let it go."
"But father, they insulted us."
"And?"
"And if we don''t stand up for ourselves, then who will?"
"Walk with me," Salorin said without waiting to see if Dagan was following.
Dagan gave a last hateful look to the ruffians and fell in step with his father. "I could''ve easily taken them."
"If you start fighting anyone after the slightest insults, soon you will be fighting the whole world," Salorin paused and looked at his son. "You will have to get used to them, Dagan. For people love to mock those who were once above their station."
"But lately, these insults have been getting out of hand," Dagan countered. "Even the adults have taken to name-calling. They never used to before."
"That''s because they took pity on you since you were only a child. Now, they see you as a man, and if you retaliate with violence, then you will be punished as a man. So, keep a tight grip on that anger of yours and unleash it in your training."
With that lesson, they headed for the sheriff''s station. Salorin was known to take odd jobs for him here and there, so Dagan figured they had gone to collect some outstanding pay. Once they arrived, his father bade him to stay outside while he talked business with the sheriff.
It didn''t take long for his father to return, and without another word, they made off towards home. Once they were back home, Dagan figured it was time to train again, but his father didn''t give the call. So, Dagan picked up his book on enchantments and figured he would finish another chapter before lunch.
As he was reading, his father came to sit beside him but said nothing.
Dagan looked at him. "Do you need something, father? Is it time to train again?"
"No, you can continue reading."
So, carefully, Dagan turned his eyes to the book. He was sure there was a test in this, too, but he couldn''t figure out what. He tried reading under his father''s gaze, but he couldn''t concentrate, as his eyes kept going back to his father, who didn''t stir or give any command but simply stared.
Finally, he couldn''t take it anymore. "What is it? I can''t read like this."
Then Salorin did something Dagan didn''t know was possible for his father.
He smiled. "Ever since your mother passed, you''re only happy when you were reading your books. I just wanted to take this memory with me."
Dagan frowned. "Take it with you? Are you going somewhere, father?"
"I would''ve left a lot sooner, but with your mother''s untimely death, I had to delay it as I couldn''t leave you all by yourself."
He smiled once again, and his smile stirred memories in Dagan that he didn''t know he had. He used to smile and laugh when Dagan was a child. He wasn''t so obsessed with training and would even play with him.
"What changed?" Dagan found himself asking. "Why don''t you smile anymore, father?"
His father stared off into the distance. "Your mother was my light. I wanted to give her everything. Everything she would''ve gotten if we hadn''t lost all our wealth and station. So, I planned on leaving to find the treasure of Virenor, but then you were born, and she asked me to stay. So, I did. After all, I couldn''t leave her and you alone to fend for yourselves. Time passed, and I put in enough hours at the sheriff''s and took enough jobs with the mercenary guild, which meant I could be gone for a few months. But then¡"
Another strange thing happened. Tears lined his eyes.
"She fell ill," Dagan finished.
He nodded. "Then, when she passed, she took my smile with her. Food lost all taste, the sun lost its warmth, and all beautiful things lost meaning. But she loved you and asked me to take care of you. It was one of the last things she asked of me. Even as she lay in bed with a devilish sickness, she cared more for you than herself." Now, his tears fell. "I couldn''t leave you then. How would I face her in the afterlife? But in my grief, I made many mistakes with you, and for those, I''m sorry. I was even cold to you in the beginning and kept you at arm''s length because¡I wish I could give an answer that would suffice. But then it became a habit. A habit that I didn''t know how to break. I didn''t know how to come to you, embrace you, and show you the love you deserved. I don''t perceive you can forgive me, nor will I ask for it, but I hope you can think of me fondly, perhaps, one day."
Dagan had tears in his eyes as well, and he found it hard to reply. He reached out and placed a hand on his father''s shoulder, but he didn''t know what to say. This was the first time his father had talked to him like this.
In the end, he, too, must have been emotionally stunted, for he just asked, "where are you going? Please tell me not to find the treasure that cursed our family."
Sarolin looked away. "Until we don''t find the treasure, the people will not stop chirping. They will hound us with their jeering and smirk behind our backs. We won''t be able to restore our honor and pride as nobles until one of us finds that treasure."
"Is that why you''ve been training me so hard all this time?" Dagan asked. "Because you expect me to go on this treasure hunt with you."
"No, son, it''s so our family''s techniques do not get lost to antiquity." His father caressed his cheek. "And I must find this treasure so that you don''t have to deal with what I had to growing up or your children after you. I will find this treasure and restore our pride and wealth. We''ll once again be a house that the other nobles will look up to."
"Since you are here, I imagine he was unsuccessful in his attempt," Roverin deduced.
"He never returned," Dagan replied. "Things got worse when he left. All the jeering and mean comments usually reserved for him were hurled at me. I got in many fights. I was even jailed and fined a few times. Then, I finally took his advice and started taking out my frustrations in training, which I had stopped when he left. It became my release. The more insults on a particular day, the harder I would train."
"I imagine you got pretty good," Roverin said.
"It was the only thing that kept me sane. Every day, I would pray for my father''s return. Slowly, months turned into years, and I finally realized he never would. Then, one day, I just started weeping. I wasn''t sure why, but deep down, I got the feeling that my father had passed on¡That I was an orphan."
"So, now, you are hunting for this treasure for the same reason as your father?"
Dagan nodded. "I want to find this treasure because not a week has passed since my father''s departure that someone hasn''t asked me if we''ve found the treasure of Virenor yet. I ignored it for many years but cannot any longer. I cannot get into any more arguments, nor can I bear to think that this awaits my sons. I will find this treasure and restore my house so all this finally stops and my boys don''t have to endure what I had to, or my father or his father before him."
"That is quite noble of you." Roverin quickly wrote everything down.
"Yes, unlike him, I didn''t just walk off into the wilderness. I''ve braved your mountain and found you. Tell me, how can I find the treasure?"
"I suppose it is my turn, but please listen to my whole story before doing anything rash," the ghost said.
"Why would I do anything rash unless you''re an evil spirit."
"I''ll leave that to your judgment."
Chapter 4 – The Ghosts Books
Dagan was wary of the ghost''s words, but there was no reason to draw his sword. As Roverin said, he would listen to his tale and decide the spirit''s fate.
Roverin began. "This is the tale of my books and how they brought me great joy and a little misery. I was always an inquisitive lad. Growing up, I wanted to learn everything about everything. It didn''t matter to me what the subject was. Be it Geometry, arithmetic, herbology, theology, or even cartography, this one caused me a lot of trouble, but I''ll talk more about that later. But despite all that, what I cherished the most was stories. I begged my father to buy me books, but we didn''t have much money, so I befriended the librarian who would let me read for free. Then, once I grew up a little more, I took the job of a Scribe in the same library, copying old books so their knowledge wouldn''t be lost. Once, I was hanging around in a tavern and overheard a sailor telling a tale about a sunken treasure. Thankfully, I had an empty scroll on me and quickly jotted down his story. That began a lifelong passion."
He turned around and looked down the long row of bookcases. "You know I still have that scroll here somewhere. Would you like to see it?"
"I''ll take your word for it." Dagan wasn''t particularly excited about roaming around this dead man''s cave. He wanted to keep the exit in sight at all times in case he needed to make a quick dash.
Roverin continued. "In my free time, I would run to the tavern to see if anyone was telling a story worth recording. If the taverns were dry if you know what I mean." He chuckled. "I would head to the ports, and there was always a story or two waiting to be put down on paper. There, I found many stories about sunken treasures or great treasure hunts that the captain had to give up because it got too dangerous. Some even told me about great battles with pirates and how the pirates took great sums of money and chests full of gold and precious gems. Some fellows even told me of gold mines high up in the mountains that no one knew of and that they were saving money till they had enough to go mine it themselves."
"How did you know if they were telling the truth?" Dagan asked the obvious question.
"I didn''t," Roverin replied. "Or, more precisely, I couldn''t. To me, they were just stories that men wanted to tell, and I assumed that was all they were¡ªstories. But to adventurers like you, they were more. They assumed I held the secret knowledge of the treasures they sought. Remember when I said that cartography caused me a lot of trouble? Well, here it is where those troubles started."
"Let me guess, adventurers wanted maps of the treasures," Dagan said.
"Precisely," Roverin exclaimed. "You see, a lot of these, let''s say, patrons wanted maps. One time, I told one such story to a colleague at the library, who would not believe me and thought the boat captain was having a bit of fun with me. Then, knowing what I knew of the sunken treasure and using cartography and geography, I created a map. We had ourselves a wager that if a boat captain brave enough to sail to the Dead Triangle¡ªbecause that is where the treasure was¡ªcould find the treasure, only then would he believe my stories to be true. So, we put it to the test. We found the boat captain, and he was even gracious enough to agree to give me a share in the spoils."
Dagan scoffed. "I doubt he came through on that promise."
"Oh no, he did. He more than came through. You see, he didn''t just find the treasure I had told him about, but he found so much more. He was so happy that he nearly gave me a quarter of it. Of course, he asked for more maps, which I happily supplied. But then the proverbial cat was out of the bag. Thanks to my colleagues at the library and, of course, sailors can only keep quiet about this sort of thing for so long."
"And so you became the Learned Man."
"Not quite then," he replied. "It took a few years and some major treasures long thought lost to be unearthed. Many of my customers were quite generous and paid me a handsome fee, and soon, I didn''t have to work at the library. So, I sat in my study, just creating maps or scribbling treasure hunt stories because there was no way I would let them go without getting a good story about their find. And some people had excellent stories. One could make some thrilling plays based on those."
"Then why are you hiding up here in the mountains?" Dagan asked.
"Well, as they say, nothing good ever lasts. Even I wasn''t always right, and though I was giving this information for free, my customers were disappointed. Some just said a curt word or two, while others were more boisterous in their disappointment. It got to the point that I decided to come here, where a nobody couldn''t come to me. At first, I had to hire some bodyguards to help me make the trip, one of whom even taught me some great spells. It was because of him that I was able to shed my mortal coil before my natural death and stop my spirit from moving on."
"What sort of magic did you learn?" Dagan asked warily. He knew spirits had their own magics, but if he knew how to trap spirits, then this spirit may not be as benevolent as he thought.
"Come," Roverin said, standing up. "I''ll show you."
He floated through the stacks of books, and Dagan followed. He didn''t want to, but as long as he had his blade by his side, he need not fear any ghost.
Roverin moved to the bookcase on the left, looked up its length, and mumbled something to himself before shaking his head and moving on. Eventually, he paused and moved to the bookcase on the opposite wall.
"Maybe I kept it here." He paused and surveyed the books. He leaned into a book, blew some dust off it, shook his head disappointedly, and moved on. They were in a long hallway with tall bookcases on both sides. Dagan couldn''t help but picture them toppling over with the slightest push.
"Found you!" cried Roverin. His haunting voice echoed in the cave. He floated to pick a book that must''ve been a dozen feet high. He plucked it out and blew the dust off it. "I never figured you would ever come here, Dagan, or so your father told me."
"My father?" Dagan asked. "How do you know my father?"
Roverin floated down with the book in hand. "He came to me asking for the treasure. We had long chats regarding you and your mother. I didn''t quite place your name until you told me the story about him. I have so many of your family members here, some of whom are also named Dagan. Must be a popular name in your house."
Dagan took an uncertain step back. "What do you mean?"
"It''s easier to show you." He opened the book and blew on it. A glowing green figure, about the size of Dagan''s dagger, rose from the pages.
"What do you want now?" Dagan''s father snapped. "Don''t you have any other souls to torment?"
"Come now, don''t be like that, Sarolin. I haven''t troubled you in many years. Besides, this visit is not about me. It''s about your son. Look, he''s come, and you said he wouldn''t."
"Father?"
The green figure turned slowly, looking terrified. Sarolin fell to his knees. "No¡"
"F-Father, is it really you?" Dagan''s hands trembled. He couldn''t believe his eyes. The figure looked exactly like his father. Exactly like the day he had left home to search for the treasure.
¡°Dagan, there is no time. Run!" His father cried. "Don''t try to fight. Just¡ª"
Roverin snapped the book shut. "Don''t do anything rash, Dagan. Let''s talk about this. It''s not¡ªI''m not what you think I am."
Dagan''s hand snapped to his sword. He unsheathed it in one smooth motion and slashed the evil spirit''s chest, but his sword went right through him. Dagan slashed a few more times, and each time, the blade just whisked through his misty form.
"That''s not going to work," Roverin plainly stated. "Now, let''s talk about this like civilized men."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Dagan didn''t care to talk. He slashed through Roverin''s head, and by the time it reformed, he was running towards the cave exit. But before he could get into the main cavern, Roverin clapped, and the hovering lights shut off.
Darkness descended on the cave.
Dagan stopped in his tracks. There was only one source of light, and it was coming from the tunnel that led to the exit. Without waiting another breath, Dagan ran for his life and the lives of his children. Many books must''ve been scattered on the cavern floor, but he somehow avoided them.
¡°Dagan, please come back,¡± Roverin said.
The closeness of his voice made the hair on the back of Dagan''s neck stand. He picked up the pace, and soon, he was in the tunnel, running towards his freedom. Behind him, Roverin asked him to stop, but he didn''t dare stop. He burst through the tunnel and into daylight.
Despite the cave''s darkness, his eyes instantly adjusted to the bright light. There were no monsters about. He dashed down the mountain, not daring to look back. He kept running all day. He didn''t know how, but his feet carried him swift and true until sundown. Then he walked, but he didn''t stop for one instant.
Thankfully, he didn''t run into any monsters, though he knew they were lurking about. He heard their howls and shrieks all through the night. Then, the day broke, and with the first light, he ran again until he got off the mountain.
It took him another two days to reach his town again. It was a rainy night when he reached home. Soaked to the bone and tired beyond all belief, he slammed his fist on the door. The door thrummed, but no one answered. He could see the light peaking from under the door, so he knew his family was home.
He tried again, and finally, on the third try, the door opened, and he was in his home. His wife and sons started as he burst through the door. They were sitting at the table and in the middle of dinner.
"Oh, thank the gods, you''re all safe," Dagan cried as he fell into an empty chair. "Raemina, water, please."
"Oh my." She stood and closed the door. "We must get this door fixed."
"Yes, I''ll fix it, but first, I must tell you all something," Dagan huffed. "I was wrong. I should never have gone after the treasure. We can never go after the treasure and never ever go to the Learned man."
"I can try fixing the door," Deihan said.
"Huh?" Dagan frowned. "Did you all hear what I just said?"
"No, son, it''s fine," Raemina said. "I''m sure it''ll hold till your father returns."
"Returns?" Dagan said. "I''m right here!"
"I hope he is okay," Little Raelmir said.
His mother moved a loving hand through his hair. "I''m sure he is. He''ll be back any day now and bring the greatest treasure in the world. Soon, we will all go live in your ancestral castle, and no one will dare to make fun of you ever again."
"No, we can''t," Dagan cried and went to Raemina. "Don''t you see me? I''m right here, and I''m telling you¡ª"
Then his wife moved away as if he wasn''t even there.
"Rae?" Dagan tried weakly. "Can''t you see me? I''m right here. I''m back¡"
He looked from his wife to his sons, and no one acknowledged his presence. It was like he wasn''t even there¡ªlike he was a ghost¡
Then despite the chorus of raindrops outside, he heard a singular drop, and right away, Dagan was sucked out of his home. He was dragged through the town at unbelievable speed. He was moving so fast that the whole world was nothing but a blur. Then, finally, the world stopped moving, and once again, he stood outside the tunnel with the words etched above its entrance.
Knowledge is never without cost.
"Come in, Dagan," came Roverin''s voice from inside the tunnel.
Anger fumed inside Dagan, and he forgot his fear as he stomped into the tunnel. But when he arrived at the cavern, his legs nearly gave way. Roverin sat on a stack of books waiting for him, but opposite him lay a body.
Dagan''s body.
"W-What did you do?" Dagan asked. "W-When¡Why?"
"Come in, Dagan. Let''s talk."
It was like a command that Dagan could not deny. It was like the wind itself carried and deposited him before the spirit.
"I''m dead?" Dagan asked, looking down at his hands. For the first time, he noticed that they were misty as if he were made of the mists themselves, like Roverin.
Roverin nodded. "You are."
"When?"
"Since you made the cut in your hand and deposited the drop of blood in the chalice."
Dagan remembered the shudder that had gone through his body. The system stopped sending him notifications after that. He realized how he could run for two days non-stop. How not a single monster attacked him on the mountain, even at night. It all made sense.
"How? W-Why?" Dagan asked. "I didn''t do anything to you. I didn''t break our accord. Then why did you kill me?"
Roverin raised a hand. "I''ll explain everything. I wasn''t finished with my tale. Why don''t you have a seat, and we''ll continue."
Dagan looked at his dead body and shook his head.
"Okay. So, as I was saying, I learned some spells from the adventurers I had hired as bodyguards. One of the adventurers could take his memories out of his mind and put them on a scroll. I was very fascinated by it. I paid him a handsome fee, and he taught it to me. However, after some research, I modified the spell to capture a person''s entire soul. All I had to do was put a drop of their blood in my book. With that, I could open the book and talk to them whenever I wished."
"That''s how you captured my father?" Dagan said through gritted teeth.
"Yes, and not just him. Many adventurers," Roverin replied casually. "Of course, I am no fighter and abhor violence. So, I learned the craft of enchanting metals, just like you did. You see that small knife and chalice are enchanted to take the life of anyone who willingly makes a cut and drops their blood in the chalice. The two work hand in hand. The knife kills while the chalice extracts the soul. The whole cave is enchanted as well. Anyone who dies here cannot move on unless I say so."
"So I¡" Dagan couldn''t bear to finish the sentence.
"Yes, you killed yourself. I didn''t force you. You could''ve left, and I would have no power to stop you."
Dagan''s world shook. He fell to his knees, and his head felt like it would split in two¡ªif that were even possible now. He took deep breaths, and even if he didn''t need to breathe, the process calmed him down. He focused on his anger, and that brought everything under control.
"So, there is no treasure of Virenor," Dagan said.
"Oh no, there is a treasure of Virenor, and it''s all around you," he replied. "But before we get to his treasure. Let''s talk about Virenor himself."
He waved his finger, wrote his name in the air, and then letters rearranged to form Virenor.
"I am Virenor. It''s an anagram of my real name, and this¡" He spread his arms wide, and the whole cavern lit up with an ethereal light. "¡is my treasure."
Dagan watched in horror as the books lit up, lifted off their shelves, and spun around the old ghost as he laughed. Then, as his laughter died, one by one, they slowly replaced themselves on the shelf they had come from.
Dagan''s hope had been crushed. His dream shattered. There was nothing he could do anymore. His fate had been sealed the moment he had given him his blood. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He cursed his great-grandfather for staking his entire fortune against finding this evil man''s treasure.
I should never have come here.
He wanted to weep. Toren died for nothing. That one struck home with him. His friend could have gone on to have a family, but now, his soul would remain trapped in Soul Breaker forever.
Dagan would never see his family again, or see his sons grow up, or be with his wife again. He would be stuck here for all eternity.
"Why?" Dagan found himself asking.
"Once I set up here," Virenor went on. "There weren''t many adventurers that were coming to me. So, I couldn''t get fresh stories, and adventurers always had the best stories. So I let a few of them go and asked them if they knew of any who had heard of the treasure of Virenor and where to find it. Honestly, it didn''t take long for the news of Virenor''s treasure to spread like wildfire, and soon after that, I had a steady trickle of adventurers coming to me to ask for my treasure."
"You''re evil."
"Evil?" Virenor shook his head. "Oh no, my lad. I''m just inquisitive and have a deep thirst for knowledge and learning new things. Could you imagine the wealth of new techniques you would have had at your disposal had you killed me? This place is a treasure trove for any adventurer. It might not be gold, but this library of mine is a treasure. It''s sad that people only consider things that glitter as treasure."
"Still doesn''t change the fact that you lured people here only to kill them and entrap their souls."
"And how is it any better than them dying outside on one of their adventures? This way, they''ll be a part of my treasure and make it greater with their knowledge. Knowledge is never without cost¡ªthis warning is etched outside the cave. I gave up civilization so I could preserve all this knowledge. It''s only fair that you give up something too. You wanted to find the treasure of Virenor, and you have. Now, you will forever be a part of it."
Dagan wanted to run, but he was rooted to the spot, and even if he did, this malicious spirit would just bring him back. He wanted to kill this thing, but he couldn''t even touch his sword, let alone lift it.
"I know you''re angry, and your anger is justifiable. But I told you everything from the start. I said this was the greatest treasure in the world, but you didn''t listen. I said I could kill you with a drop of your blood, but again, you didn''t listen. You could have gone on your way, but you chose to give up your blood willingly. Do not fault me for your greed. I am not as evil as you think me. I will let you spend some time with your family. I''m sure you have many things to say to your father. I don''t suppose you''ve ever met your grandfather; he is here too, and so are your uncles. In time, maybe your sons will join you."
Dagan couldn''t stand it anymore. He snapped. "If you had already killed me, then why waste all that time listening to my stories."
"Because I had to ease you into it," Roverin replied. "I find it best to listen to their stories before I add them to the treasure. Somehow, it makes the transition easier. In the end, we were just two dead men telling each other our stories to get to know each other better."
He began closing the book in his hand, the book in which he had written Dagan''s stories. Dagan jerked forward as some invisible force pulled on him from inside the book. He tried pushing against it but couldn''t fight it. The more he fought, the harder he was pulled inside the book.
"I find that dead men tell the best tales."
Virenor snapped the book shut.
The End