very long life, that was the last time she would ever be addressed as Senna.
Interlude: On the Nature of Dragons
Interlude:
On the Nature of Dragons
In the library of the Skyfire Sect, a fire magic lodge based in the city of Arkastor, is a prominent shelf¡ªmade of glittering ebony with golden embellishments¡ªdedicated to the world''s largest repository of dragonlore. On this shelf is a particular book, of modest size, time-worn but surprisingly unabused by human hands. To its left is a series of well-regarded tomes covering the known history of dragons, their powers, the myths of their origins, and so forth. To the right, the books are more recent and largely the same, though tending to focus more on written accounts of human encounters with dragons.
Dragons, they all say, are the kings of all reptiles, the sole tier above vyrns. Four-legged, two-winged, one-tailed, with scales stronger than any enchanted armor. Their fangs are sharper than the legendary blades of Tarvis, their jaws crush stone like bread. They breathe fire, spit fire, eat fire, and probably shit fire. They lay their eggs in fire, incubate them in fire, and make sure they hatch in fire. They live almost exclusively in mountain caves, and if they live long enough, their lairs will become so extensive and they will become so powerful that they cause a phenomenon whereby the mountain''s peak erupts in fire and ash. They cannot be truly tamed, like any monster¡ªbut they can be controlled for a time if imprinted upon hatching and promptly broken in, as was done by the ancient dragon riders of Kazra. Though any reader should probably be made aware that the dragons once ridden by the Kazrites ultimately ate them, their families, the very stones of their palaces, and every other living thing in the deep north.
Dragons live for millennia and can sleep for hundreds of years at a time. From time to time they emerge from their lairs to raid the lush green lands below their mountain burrows for food, gold, and fun. Being greedy creatures by nature, they will amass great hoards of gold and guard them jealously. Some dragons, it is said, can take on the form of a human, beguiling their kind for the sake of acquiring their gold. So these venerable tomes say.
For the most part, they are all wrong.
First of all, dragons are not reptiles. Secondly¡ªdragons are the kings of all living beings on this world. Thirdly, vyrns aren''t reptiles either. Fourth, the population residing in mountain caves is only a fraction of the dragons in the world. And fifth¡ Dragons do not lay eggs.
In that tome of modest size are a number of sources considered by modern scholars to be unverifiable and without substance. It begins, for instance, with a passage quoted from the elder of a migrant people who supposedly fled to Nauresia from the lands south of the Wetwoods:
Dragons are born of stone, and return to stone. A dragon''s spirit cannot be severed from its flesh, nor can the void bear its animus; it metamorphoses, as do the riches of the nether kingdoms, into rock of a greater form: an unbeating heart. If you would truly vanquish the king of earth and fire, then shatter this petrified aspect. Yet know that no hammer or pick that has seen any sky is worthy of the task.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The tome continues with a number of theories regarding their origins, all of them¡ªunlike the book''s many shelf-mates¡ªassociated with the utmost depths of the world. Perhaps they are the spawn of Ingvinith, the true Leyline of Fire, and of Deghom, that of Earth. Or perhaps they were birthed at the dawn of the world by the very primordial flames that shaped the lands above and below. In a similar vein, they could be the product of those forces that create the ''riches of the nether kingdoms'', glimstein and diamonds and other unbelievable stones. There is even a theory¡ªwhich the author specified he felt obliged to include¡ªthat they were created by the nether kingdoms themselves, or whatever dwelt in them.
You would be forgiven for not knowing what the nether kingdoms are. Only the most learned of the modern world are aware of the "forgotten kingdoms" among and below the netherlanes. The netherlanes themselves are, in many nations, little more than a legend among adventurers¡ªa crisscrossing network of artificial passageways so deep below the ground that there is as little air to breathe as there is sunlight to see with. And yet, this tome contains an account from a human woman who claimed to not only be an experienced deepwender, but also to live well below the surface.
The magic-bearing animus of a dragon is so strong, she says, that it is able to hold much of the essence of what makes each individual¡ individual. Much of their spirit. When a dragon dies, its animus coalesces within its heart, which soon condenses into a petrified form resembling an egg. These heart-stones will sink into the ground beneath the dragon''s very corpse, which itself will petrify over the course of some weeks. After enough time¡ªvery much of it, presumably¡ªthe dragon may reform itself from the surrounding stone, if it is the right kind. If there is too little rock of a suitable kind, it may be birthed again as a youngling, sometimes requiring centuries of growth to reach its former prowess.
It''s common knowledge, she says.
The tome''s author then meanders for some time, detailing his efforts to corroborate this information and uncover more details. It took him two decades, he claims, but by chance he stumbled upon a strange tower, in which resided an aging wizard who clearly appreciated having someone to talk to.
This wizard produced many of the same claims as those above, but he particularly focused on the types of dragons, such as they were. Or perhaps, rather than ''type'', it would be better to describe them as ''phases'', ''stages'', or ''aspects''. A dragon''s color, he claimed, depended on the stone and other minerals surrounding it when it reformed. And these could dramatically affect the dragon''s lifespan, strength, and even intelligence. The wizard had attempted to map out a hierarchy of colors and the materials they spawned from, but admitted that most of it was wild conjecture; it was hard to believe that there was enough available azurite, for instance, to account for the several sightings of blue dragons he claimed to have records of. But one thing was for sure: dragons hoarded gold because a gold dragon was by far the most powerful, most intelligent. Every dragon that supposedly had a human form, indeed, was a gold dragon.
It''s a good thing, the wizard said more than once, that there''s never enough gold in one place for a gold dragon to spawn as anything more than a juvenile. After all, A fully matured gold dragon was very likely what caused the Calamity that ruined the two empires beyond the western Aldrim, before the current mage-kings put a stop to it. Hm? What do you mean you didn''t know there were nations over the western mountains? Well, sit down again young man, I can''t let you go without apprising you of some basic geography.
After all, it''s all common knowledge.
[0.02] Hunger
Hunger
In less than half an hour, she was farther from her home than she''d ever been.
She had turned off the western road just a half kilometer from the Trella''s gate, heading south along a creek that was so familiar to her. The sparkle of sunlight over wet stones and the cheerful trill of water as it skipped away from the eastern mountains formed the background of so many of her childhood adventures.
And now, when all the sounds and smells and sights of the creek at the end of her world combined, it all hit her at once. She knew it would, didn''t she? But not like this.
The uncertainty of not knowing what, where, and when you''ll next eat, sleep, or drink. The constant
stress of it, the ever-present awareness that required a whole corner of your mind, conscious and otherwise¡ a corner that could no longer be used for things like creativity, self-improvement, or empathy. The paranoia of sleeping without shelter, in a world where even small monsters were aggressive and lethal. The unceasing tension of being
constantly in danger. Things that were wholly unknown by most settled peoples.
But even as all this flashed through her mind in brilliant clarity, her next footstep did not falter. Nor did the one after.
She thought of her father, and Tessia, and old man Tesmon, and so many others¡ Would they even be alright? Her father would be devastated. She almost stumbled as her eyes looked inward at a shadowy vision of his grieving form sitting at the table where they''d shared 18 years of meals. And it would be her fault. And Tesmon¡ and Tessia, who she hadn''t said goodbye to¡ª
The thoughts kept coming, and she realized they would never end. She missed them, missed them all already. Maybe¡ maybe she didn''t want them to end. Maybe she looked forward to missing them every day until she saw them again. Because that way she would never forget. Even as she moved forward, always forward.
And now, as she was about to walk past the end of the dwindling creek-side trail, she knew she had to decide¡ªthose thoughts couldn''t weigh her down if she wanted to keep moving. She was who she was, and no matter how many people she missed, no matter how much she hated
why her life had taken this turn, she had no reason to regret the path in front of her.
And so she wouldn''t, not ever.
Now her footsteps took her to the very edge of the world that was known to her, her toes touching a thicket of grass beyond which she''d never seen.
Well, this would be it. After all this time¡
She doesn''t look back. Rather, a certain desire springs up between her lungs like a vernal shoot from thawing snow. After 18 years of a joyful, love-filled life, she feels the desire¡ªthe
hunger¡ªfor a deeper understanding of the world outside her sheltered upbringing. To see things she''d never seen before. Maybe to see things
nobody had ever seen before, and to show those things to all the world, that they could know it too. So now, after all this time¡
¡I''m going on an adventure.
??????
Her first attempt to fill a low-level bounty ended in failure. As did the next. After taking light wounds from just a pair of gribbets, she wisely retreated and re-examined her approach. A merchant''s life was all she knew¡ She had never swung a sword before, much less one as big as she was. Rare materials and modern bladesmithing could only do so much¡ªthe weapon was
heavy, as heavy as everything else she carried combined.
Sitting on a sturdy log eating the last of her rationed meals from Trella, she pondered if there were anything else that would suit her better. She knew that she
should have picked an easier weapon to wield, maybe an arming sword and a targe¡ What did all the real adventurers use? Swords, shields, bows, poleaxes, daggers¡ the Arcane Arts weren''t an option for her, nor were the Divine. But as she looked at the massive greatsword,
her greatsword, with the evening sunlight glistening on its dark steel¡ she could remember the feeling of each swing she had made, the hilt threatening to fly from her grasp with each momentous arc. She felt again each ponderous step and sidestep that she took under its weight, and the load of its worked metal on her hands, on her arms, on her back¡ she looked at it, and she realized that she
liked it.
When she thought back to her earlier encounters she developed a fierce conviction that another weapon wouldn''t have been the better path¡ªjust the easier one. She needed more strength, stamina, speed, knowledge of the enemy, better reflexes, timing, and more, she could see that so clearly. But most importantly, for just a couple gribbets, she simply needed better awareness, discipline, and tactics. And
those were within her reach.
She had nobody to train her, but her determination did not waver, even after she failed the next quest and then the next. But she got better, and she knew it. On the day she forfeited that second quest, the grin that spread from one bunched cheek to the next would last long after she finally fell asleep for the night. She had killed an alglot, a mature one, though small.
And it tasted good.
But she soon discovered that there was just little profit in adventuring at this low tier; materials were plentiful and competition fierce. After all, even a farmer with a pitchfork could get a lone gribbet if they were quick enough. Quickly running out of money, she resorted to eating anything she could scavenge, including attempting to cook some of the low-level monsters she managed to kill. She still steered clear of gribbets when she could, but the taste of alglots, garmals, and even surlok became familiar to her. She lived for several months this way, hunting monsters that wouldn''t even bring any profit, for the sake of bare survival. For the rest of her life, the sensation of hunger will be one of the things she hates the most.
Luckily for her, she soon encountered a group of friendly but similarly inexperienced adventurers who were willing to party with her. And luckily for the lot of them, the first adventurer guild they came across¡ªstill trying to rebuild after the last Crusade¡ªwas not only willing to take them in, but had experienced trainers.
For the next few years, based out of that guild in the northern fringes of Manara, she managed to gain considerable worldly experience while maintaining her endless cheerfulness. She would often reminisce about her childhood, much of which was spent exploring the dense forests and creeks surrounding her home. And, just as she wanted, she missed her friends and family day after day. But she found herself well-adapted to her new life, and found a home in the community of the guild and particularly with her new friends. In her heart there was born a burning appetite for adventure, a blazing desire to explore the vast world. She wanted to see how far she could go as an adventurer, and perhaps to help those she encountered along the way.
In just five years, her party of six¡ªincluding the same adventurers she had met on her way south¡ªwere officialized as B-Rank adventurers, the highest most people could expect to achieve without exceptional talent. They knew that none among them were particularly strong or powerful, but as a team, they excelled in most every task they were put to. It was rare, they were told, for a party to like each other so much, to be so cohesive and communicative both in and out of battle. It was rare, and something to be prized.
Between her party, her guildmates, the trainers, and even the guild''s administrators, it''s a wonder how much good the good-natured people of the world can work, just by doing their jobs well and caring for each other. Not everybody is made to be a hero, nor should they want to be. And living among these many non-heroes, this young woman from Trella truly blossomed. Her strength burgeoned, her spirit blazed, and her determination grew ever fiercer. Perhaps the biggest shame is that none of those people would ever know just how far their kindness and everyday virtue would impact the lives of others. At the very least though, It was apparent that her party had a bright future ahead of them.
But it wouldn''t be long before that bright future would be made manifest in fire.
??????
In the first season of the one thousand five hundred fifty-seventh Year of Grace, a young dragon descended from the eastern Aldrim not far from the border of Geld and Manara. This event is not included among the records of verified dragon-sightings, despite the indisputable fact that a fair many towns and homesteads were razed without any other plausible explanation. This dragon''s name would never be known, its description never to grace that ebony shelf in the venerated Skyfire Sect. The reason being that there was simply nobody left to report it.
But it
did have a name.
??????
They were on their way back to the guild from a successful quest, taking a lunch at a small inn at a crossroads. They''d had only a few spoonsful of soup when a man ran in, panting and half-dressed. Propping himself against the doorframe, he finally managed to exhale a few intelligible words:
"Dragon¡! Th¡ªth'' mountains¡ the village¡ in flames¡!"
The party looked at each other. There was no telling whether this dragon was real, but one thing they could tell: this man''s desperation was
very real. In between hurried sips of lunch they tried to get the man to give them more information, but even when he calmed he had little else to say. He hadn''t seen the dragon¡ªjust the fire from the sky.
But what he did manage to say was the name of his village, which was less than a half day away from the nearest town¡ªand the home of the party''s Chaplain.
They had already picked up their gear and were ready to leave the inn when the doorway was again blocked by a frantic, panting man.
"D¡ªDragon¡!"
??????
Soon they were headed east at a brisk pace, and their pack lotch was unusually nervous, as if it knew they were leading it into unprecedented danger. Even a young dragon, a small one, would be classified as an Extreme-tier threat, requiring three to four parties minimum of the highest available ranking adventurers to combat. They told themselves that the least they could do was verify the threat and be on hand in case other parties would arrive to form an organized offensive.
An organized offensive¡ They looked at each other, every one of them struggling to believe that there could be any other high-tier adventurers within at least two days'' journey. Meaning, it would take that long just to get the warning to them. Here, in the northeastern corner of Manara, there was little more than frontier towns and the stray peddler. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
They couldn''t imagine any help arriving. But still they went.
They arrived at the Chaplain''s hometown before sunset, mere minutes before the howling streams of fire crashed upon the eastern rooftops. Townsmen rushed out of their houses in confusion and panic. And when they did, the dragon landed upon them, burning and clawing and tearing them, letting none escape. It was tiny, for a dragon, little larger than a baravyrn, fitting snugly within the moderately-sized byroads; but its jaws were still large enough to neatly snap up half a man at once, which it now seemed to delight in doing.
But, within those alleyways, it could not turn. It didn''t consider this a problem; there was nothing here that a swipe of the tail couldn''t manage. Until six adventurers set upon it at once from every exposed angle. But even then, should it be concerned? There was little in this world that could pierce its mail of golden scales.
And yet, something did. More than one, and more than once. It raged, and roared, and then it commenced a delightful game of cat and mouse, taking to the skies and burning the pesky assailants out of one shelter only to chase them into another. Finally, it turned its baleful blaze upon the last intact structure within a kilometer. With glee it watched the storefront fall in upon itself, ready to relish the taste of its triumph.
But there was nothing inside. At first the dragon was merely bewildered; even its mythically keen senses could detect nothing. And then it was angry. But, for the most part, it had done what it came to accomplish. Snapping up a few more corpses to fuel its need for rampant growth, the dragon swept one more gaze across its brilliant conflagration. Sensing nothing, it took to the sky and fled to a nearby ridge, eager to digest the meal that bloated it from within the comfortable cavern it had spotted there.
Within the submerged stone hollow their Earth Mage had created for them, the adventurers'' adrenaline was wearing off all at once. They dared not emerge yet, and came to the unspoken agreement that they would shelter in place for the night. Eventually, the Chaplain gave in to exhaustion and dropped the
Divine Veil he''d held around their enclosure¡ªwhich, incidentally, had blocked the dragon''s spirit sight. The Guardian didn''t last much longer either, and as the glimmering bubble of his
Dauntless Aegis faded into darkness, the adventurers'' body heat was once again perceptible by those above. The Earth Mage¡ªwith unusual finesse¡ªformed two small tunnels to provide airflow, and they found that their burrow was not without a degree of comfort¡ the smallest degree of comfort, but enough that it would make all the difference in their outlook in the upcoming day.
In between the weeping of one party member or another, they each were ultimately dragged down into blank-minded sleep.
??????
They emerged in the gloomy pre-dawn to the still-smoking cinders of the once-lively town. The Chaplain''s grief was spread among them as they looked at the blackened frames and piles of ash, and the scarce remains of the few townspeople who hadn''t been fit into the dragon''s belly. And, in turn, the Chaplain''s will was buoyed by their collective determination. They each had their many private thoughts, staring at the carnage they had lived through. But as a group, a coherent feeling seemed to develop all at once:
now was not the time to grieve.
They shared a certain exhilaration as they realized just how much they''d learned from the previous night. The Ranger asked, aren''t dragons supposed to be weak to lightning? Then why is this one only weak to
ice? Most likely something to do with its golden color, they all agreed. Was it just me, or was the dragon getting sluggish towards the end of the day? mused the Knight. It didn''t look tired to me, responded the Earth Mage. But the Guardian was convinced¡ªit wasn''t
tired, it was
full. The Blackguard, the party leader, reported that its underside was indeed its weakest part, as the stories all say, along with its inner upper thighs. And with this dragon being especially young, that skin was notably soft and pliant¡ªcomparatively, anyways. Still tougher than anything he''d tried to pierce in his life, by a lot, he had to add.
Taking stock of their experiences, they concluded that they had three attacks among them that could reliably harm the dragon: a fully-charged ice-imbued power shot from the Ranger, if he could successfully hit the dragon''s underside when it reared or swiveled; the Blackguard''s costly and difficult
Driven Shadows attack; and a well-angled, well-placed upwards power thrust by the Knight''s prized greatsword, masterwork of the smith Tesmon.
One more thing, they realized¡ªit was unlikely that any wound they inflicted on any single day would carry over to the next. The regenerative properties of a dragon were legendary for a reason. If they wanted to kill or drive off this beast, they would have to do it all in one day.
''Drive off''? the Guardian asked.
¡
He received no response. Nor did anyone in the party speak as they gathered up their gear and made their way to the hillside where they''d hidden their supplies, their lotch having predictably broken its restraints and run off in terror the previous evening. By the time they were marching to the next town, still in silence, all of them knew they would be satisfied with nothing less than slaying a gold dragon. And, given the distance it could travel, their one day would have to be
today.
They couldn''t save that town. Nor the next one. But the dragon still couldn''t kill them. No rational person in this world would ever believe that
any six adventurers had done battle with a dragon, no matter its size, three times in the space of twenty-four hours¡ and lived. But they did.
There''s nobody alive to tell the tale of the six adventurers who rallied the townsfolk, organizing those willing to fight and evacuating the rest. The first town burned, wholly, to the ground, and every single citizen defender lost their lives within a half hour. But the very last of them, a grizzled old man still mourning his daughters, let out a wheezing chuckle in place of his last breath¡ªhis glazing eyes were still watching when the dragon
limped before it took to the skies. It could be said that the evacuees too played a vital role, as the time the dragon took to devour them all provided the adventurers with the necessary window of opportunity to make it to the next town.
And by the time that town burned, the dragon Ragnalos was
angry.
Infuriated. Insulted. And
hurt. These lands were so ripe with life energy, and it had awakened at the perfect time¡ why couldn''t it pin down these human thorn-bugs? It would take just a few decades of growth at this rate, and nothing within the Aldrim could stop it. But how could these adventurers disappear like that? More alarmingly, how could they
hurt it so reliably?
Compared to its previous form, it felt like an infant. Regardless of its newly-attained golden composition, the pain it felt from the humans'' attacks emphasized how weak it was at this stage of its evolution. It was still in a phase of rapid growth in mass and stature, and its body reflected that focus. More flexible skin, less developed scales, all easier for its body to scale up in sheer size. It was still years away from crucial stages of development where its energy could be diverted into maturing and thickening its natural defenses. And so it was all too eager to exploit these undefended frontier lands, consuming as many of these energy-dense humans as it could to accelerate its growth, gorging itself until it could hardly move. This strategy was only encouraged after the first day; its increased size was tangible and measurable, particularly so to a creature with a millennia-long lifespan.
Now swollen with the life energy of two towns worth of bodies, Ragnalos made its way back to the little crack in the cliffside to rest and digest. And it did so with malicious glee¡ªit had formed something of a plan, one it would perfect with a brief morning survey of the lands. It knew just how to deal with humans who seemed intent on defending others.
But the adventurers had no intention of letting it live until morning. The Ranger''s
Tracking Shot was unerring, and the dragon''s cliffside haunt was not too far for their exhausted bodies to reach. They''d fought two battles that day already, and marched as far as they ever had on a single day besides. The Chaplain''s strongest spells of refreshment and rejuvenation could only go so far; they''d dropped their supplies to lighten their load just to make it here. But none of them had the space in their consciousness for a single doubt, a single regret. There was exhaustion and fear aplenty though, and they all shared it with each other with nervous gazes. But in each other''s eyes they also saw the mirrors of their own determination, and after just a few minutes of quiet planning, they marched unflinchingly toward the cave in familiar formation.
??????
The bards have penned a multitude of songs about mankind''s battles with dragons, many of them needlessly embellished. But simply looking at that cave from outside, one could watch one of those songs take place on the stones of its time-smoothed mouth, painted by the flames of a sorely wounded dragon and the silhouettes of six people¡ªperhaps among the most valiant of this world.
Seconds after they entered the cave, the crashing of collapsing stone signaled the initial success of their plan and the beginning of combat, briefly trapping the dragon''s front half before it even awoke. The roaring was immediate and surely deafening to anyone inside. Within a minute, smoke poured out from the ceiling of the cave, slipping upwards into the night clouds. Urgent shouting competed with the dragon''s roars, both of them soon outdone by the thunder of more tumbling rock. After ten minutes, the screaming started, outdoing even the tremendous clatter that accompanied the collapse of nearly half the cavern. The screams stopped after three more minutes.
But the roaring continued.
Five more minutes, ten¡ it was only a growl now, but more vicious and hateful than ever¡
Twenty minutes¡ thirty-five¡
Almost a full hour after the fight began, the roaring escalated to a sudden crescendo, then faded back into a growl, a groan, and finally a sniveling whimper. And then it ceased for all eternity.
The smoke drifting from the cave was replaced by a trickle of steam¡ªthe steam from a dragon''s boiling lifeblood.
Some time later, anyone still watching the now-quiet drama on the mouth of the cave would see a figure emerge, darker than the night-lit rock, steaming and as unrecognizable as the charred corpse they carried. The figure began to dig a hole in the soft parts of the earth just beyond the mouth of the cave, slowly and painfully, using mostly the snapped-off half of a shield as a shovel. Burdened by hunger, exhaustion, and injury, all unbearable, they rested often on the hard soil, lying as if dead for a time¡ But they never gave up digging. Hunger, hurt, weariness,
hunger¡ But before dawn, the hole was just deep enough to cover the broken body of the party''s leader.
The figure would then turn back to the black maw of that burned-out cavern. It stumbled over each and every loose stone and craggy ledge as it scuffled into the still-steaming dark. Over the next hour, the steam drifting from that darkness only increased, wafting gently from the cavern floor as it was flooded with spilt dragon-blood¡ A lot of it.
All of it.
A full rest later, the blood within the cave was only just beginning to cool. It dripped like viscous acid from the next human-shaped mass of char the figure carried out of that red-painted cavern. And they began to dig, one shallow hole and then the next¡
It would take all of the next two days, but at their end, five neatly piled totems of stones would mark the resting places of five noble souls.
The figure would rest another day inside their gore-strewn lair before shouldering as much useful gear as they could carry and trudging aimlessly out from the shadows of the cave. Unwashed, blackened with cruor and char, and hardly recognizable as human, they kept walking¡ªheading straight, always straight. The cave facing southeast, this figure would eventually find themselves in the shadowy Greenfells, where they would spend a few peaceful and recuperative months in the untouched depths of that ancient forest before leaving southwards again.
Seemingly by chance, they arrived in the kingdom of Tavar just as the last of the doomed Third Crusade was about to march. The Crusade''s need for manpower was so great that neither the new arrival''s motives nor their fighting ability were questioned before they were assigned to the rearmost battalion, one of the few that would escape the Cost.
In just two weeks, the Crusade would end. For the third time in fifty years, the remaining nations of the known world lost a full fifth of their able-bodied populations. But that figure survived that gruesome day. They would save many lives and meet many people, who would then in turn live to save more lives. And then that ever-bloodied, ever-burning figure¡ªarmed with that gift from the noble-hearted Tesmon¡ªwould continue to live, and continue to meet new people, and continue to save lives.
And in just two more years, they would become known across the entire modern world as¡ª
Brimrose, the Blazing Maiden.
[1.00] Introduction: Seven Months Before Dawn
~ Act 1 ~
Step Into The Shadow
Introduction:
Seven Months Before Dawn
[ Character creation would be here. ]
The player can choose their own name and gender, so they will be referred to as [Guildmaster] from this point forward.
There is no scene, only the following letters presented against the background of a generic wooden desktop:
Notice of Transfer of Property and Authority
From: The Office of King Eshram, Ordained Ruler of the State of Karsis
This notice is to inform [Guildmaster] of the transfer of the Mayika Adventurer Guild and all related properties, accords, and authorities into their ownership.
Per the written will of Savron, former owner and Guildmaster, and as certified by Karsian Royal House and blessed by the House of the Nine Virtues and its Seat in Mayika, the aforementioned assets have been ceded to your provisional ownership by virtue of blood relation. Your personal representation is required to finalize this investiture.
Present the enclosed Letter of Investiture to the clerk at the Mayika Governor''s Office to proceed with the authorization of transfer.
If the transfer has not been certified by the end of this year, the fifteen hundred sixty-seventh Year of Grace, the aforementioned assets will default to the possession of the Karsian Royal House.
Stolen novel; please report.
The Virtues light your path.
Letter of Investiture
An exceptionally fine length of parchment, tightly bound and royally sealed. This letter should be presented to the appropriate officials in the city of Mayika, where your newly-inherited adventurer guild is established.
Letter of Introduction
Addressed ''To Whom It May Concern'', this letter bears the seal of the Karsian Royal House and explains your identity and purpose in brief. It appears that Guildmasters still have some modicum of status in this land.
Letter from Savron
[Guildmaster],
You should''ve already read the official notice at this point, so you know that I''ve decided to leave the leadership of the Mayika Adventurer Guild in your hands. I know we met only briefly, but I hope I made as much of an impression on you as you did on me.
Know that I make this decision not simply because you are of my few remaining kin, but because I believe in both your ability and your virtue. And also because I know that, like me, you''ll all too often find yourself in the field alongside your adventurers¡ªdespite Annessa''s constant objections.
Don''t worry too much. Please trust in my judgment and in your own capabilities¡ But even more so, trust in the guild staff. I can personally vouch for those who remain, and even young Messen shows immense promise. Treat them well, invest in them, and they will keep you on your path.
Keep well, and may the Virtues forever light your path and brighten your long life.
?¡ª Savron
P.S. Yes, I''m dead. I lasted longer than anyone expected, myself included, and I believe I will soon see my life to a fitting end. Mourn for me a little, eh? Maybe toss a potion or two down in my name from time to time, preferably before killing something good.
[1.01] A Welcome, Or Close Enough
Month 1:
Thus Speaks Your Herald
Scena 1:
A Welcome, Or Close Enough
As you top the last hill north of the Heartlands, the city that is your new home seems to rise at once from the sandy flats before you. First you are greeted by gleaming domes of cyan with gold adornments, then the bright tan stone of squared rooftops, many of which hold small gardens. The streets, which you can barely see in between the many two-story structures, are surprisingly clean and sometimes feature a myriad of greenery. You have to admit to yourself¡ªnever expected to find anything this beautiful, even grand, outside of the Empires.
?????
It''s evening. You stand at the gate to Mayika, capital city of the Kingdom of Karsis. There''s nobody else trying to enter at this time but you and the caravan you arrived with. You present your letter of introduction to the guard, hoping it''ll help you avoid some fees or at least speed up the process. To your delight, it does both.
| [Guildmaster]
|
Mayika north gatekeeper
|
GATEKEEPER: Looks good, welcome to Mayika.
[GUILDMASTER]: Do you know where I could find the governor''s office?
GATEKEEPER: South to the main road, then east to the Royal District. It''s in the main square there, but they''re probably closed for the day. If you need an inn, I recommend The Blithe Buffoon. Best rest in the kingdom, and no they''re not payin'' me for sayin'' it. Thrived for some generations now, despite the name¡ªand that should tell you something.
[GUILDMASTER]: Thank you. What about the adventurer guild then?
GATEKEEPER: Didn''t think we still had one ''til I saw the letter¡ You know, go ahead and ask the sergeant on your way out, he''s in the gatehouse on the right.
[GUILDMASTER]: Thanks again.
After getting directions to your new inheritance¡ªdue south on that same road, called the Gate Road as it runs straight from the northern to the southern gates¡ªyou make your way through a modest portion of the city, including a number of merchant''s stalls lining parts of the street; their wares are far from the best the city has to offer, but considerably more affordable.
Soon enough, you overhear a pair of voices that are plainly talking about you, and you pause across the way from a humble produce stall where its owner and a cheerful young man are talking to each other.
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: What about this person? A newcomer like this is a great opportunity!
HUMBLE FRUIT MERCHANT: As always, young master, I can only rely on your keen sense.
The cheerful young man spins around with a smile, and in a flash he''s walked up to you with a fruit in each hand. His clothes are basic in style but made of fine material and clearly well-cared-for.
| Cheerful young man
|
Humble fruit merchant
|
He presents you the fruits, both arms extended to you with a simple but excited smile.
[GUILDMASTER]: What''s this?
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: A free sample!
You eye the fruits with curiosity as you lift them from his outstretched hands, and note that they look healthier than you''d expect from a common market. Moreover, they''re of a variety that you don''t recognize.
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: Mister Tarsim''s family owns their own little orchard just outside the city. As you can imagine, it''s a very complicated business without adventurers around to keep the alglots out, and not much profit to be made. But look at these! It took two generations to cultivate and another for the new trees to mature, but his family''s efforts have finally, eh, born fruit!
Taking a bite out of one, you can only agree that Mister Tarsim''s family must have both expertise and dedication. You step past the young man and over to the stall, eyeing the selection and prices while the merchant looks at you gently with confidence on his face.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> Hm. I''ve tasted better, but might as well have been eating gold. Your product is marvelous, Mister Tarsim.
With a simple smile and a slight bow, the stall owner accepts your compliment in the spirit with which it was given.
<2> I''m impressed, thank you. I''ll be looking forward to visiting again.
MISTER TARSIM: I''m most pleased to hear you say that!
<3> This young man''s tactics are quite persuasive, I''ll admit. As much as your own product, Mister Tarsim.
The stall keeper gives a gracious bow, and the cheerful young man grins.
MISTER TARSIM: It''s a fine feeling to have my family''s long-abiding endeavors praised such, I''ll admit. You have my thanks as well, for your kind words.
The young man has a mysterious glint in his eye as he addresses you again.
CHEERFUL YOUNG MAN: We shouldn''t keep you, I can see you''ve still got your belongings on you and it''s getting late. They''re not lying when they recommend The Blithe Buffoon, it''s the best place around and not even the most expensive. Best of luck to you, newcomer!
[GUILDMASTER]: This might be the best welcome to a city I''ve ever had. My thanks to the both of you.
After a couple quick nods and bows, you''re on your way again.
Soon enough, you pass by an inn on your left, large but not very impressive. It''s The Holy Harper, not the one you''ve been recommended. Judging by the wagon tracks and the large stables, it''s likely a popular and economic choice for traveling merchants. Even from the middle of the street you can hear the song of a bard¡ªand not a good one. He''s chosen a tale of the Infernal Six as his song of the hour¡ ever a popular subject. It sounds like an original piece, or at least one you haven''t heard before, focusing on the exploits of the famous adventurers'' party leader.
And dark was the hour, the village besieged!
A heinous alliance of monsters, the fiends!
But darkness¡ªno matter how thick!¡ªcannot abide
the fires of Brimrose, newly arrived!
Well, at least it''s an original. The tune isn''t even that bad for a budget bard.
Past the inn, the road''s quality quickly declines. There is little traffic to the city''s southern gate, and less reason to maintain it.
With Mayika being the second largest city in the Heartlands, it takes some time before you finally spot the familiar sign of an adventurer guild, the flame-winged shield¡ªthe same emblem used across the known world. Below it is the Mayika guild''s individual emblem, a rising gauntlet within a radiant halo.
| Adventurer Guild emblem
|
Mayika branch emblem
|
But what first catches your attention is a large, elegant house, worthy of being called a small mansion, located directly across the street from the gate to the guild. While not richly decorated, it is clearly much newer and more expensive than the surrounding residences. It has a small yard even, surrounded by a high stone wall whose rounded top looks made of a smooth, ungraspable material.
Turning to the adventurer guild that is now technically yours, you knock firmly on the thick wood-and-iron gates. And then again, after a few minutes with no sign of an answer. Eventually you decide that you have no choice but to enter on your own¡ªthe gate is unlocked¡ªand cross the large cobblestone-paved courtyard to the door of the guildhouse proper.
This time, your knocking is promptly answered. A smart-looking woman in an unfamiliar uniform opens the door just enough to fit herself through. Her elegant gold-trimmed suit jacket looks worn in places, but its jet-black color still holds. Similarly, her black slacks are impeccably clean and straightened, meeting just at her elegant shoes¡ªrefined, but sturdy enough to be worthy of a day''s walk. She looks you in the eye, firmly but cordially.
SMART-LOOKING WOMAN: Your name and business?
Her voice is deep but feminine, and combined with her elegant poise your impression of her is one of implacable serenity and rationality.
[GUILDMASTER]: I''m called [Guildmaster], and I''ve received notice that I''m to take ownership and leadership of this guild by the will of Savron, the previous Guildmaster and my first cousin once removed¡ªbeing the son of my great-uncle, Varal.
She nods, and you hand her your letter of introduction. She scrutinizes it with a trained eye, then hands it back to you with a slight but elegant smile.
SMART-LOOKING WOMAN: Welcome, [Guildmaster]. My name is Annessa, the guild''s administrator.
She opens the door fully, welcoming you inside.
ANNESSA: There''s much to review, even by way of a simple introduction. But for today I suggest you learn your way around and then make yourself comfortable after your travels. I take it you haven''t been to the governor''s office?
[GUILDMASTER]: Not yet, no. I was told they were closed for the day.
ANNESSA: We''ll head there tomorrow morning then.
Inside the front hall of the guildhouse, your immediate impression is that, though tidy, the place hasn''t been properly cleaned in years. The room is dimly lit, and the smooth, dark wood of the walls only adds to the impression of dimness. The hall stretches the width of the building, with exterior doors on both sides as well as one set in the back, at the end of a hall that starts between the twin staircases that lead to the above two floors.
You hear a door open on the upper floor, and footsteps approaching the stairs.
ANNESSA: This will be Varant, our most senior staff member.
Varant appears on the stairs, his gaze already appraising you as his sure and precise steps carry him down to the hall.
VARANT: And this is¡?
His deep voice is almost as scarred as his face, and with those few words his inexorable confidence is impressed upon you. Varant''s gaze is judgmental, but not hostile. You immediately feel the need to prove yourself to him, but know that the best way to do that is to not feel like you have to prove yourself to him.
ANNESSA: The new Guildmaster.
Stepping off the last of the stairs, his eyes never leave yours as his measured paces carry him softly towards you.
VARANT: Hm. By what right?
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> The right of law, no less.
Varant grunts grouchily.
<2> The right of my distant cousin''s delirious whims, as far as I can tell.
VARANT: You a relative of Savron? You got any of his strength in you, eh?
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> Remains to be seen¡ I''ll do my best, that much I can say for sure.
Varant grunts neutrally.
<2> A pinch, maybe. Two if I''m lucky.
Varant''s grunt carries a hint of amusement. At least, you think.
<3> All of it¡ªbut only of the kind related to eating two Manaran honey pies in one sitting.
VARANT: Mighty indeed.
He seems amused, but his tone wouldn''t indicate it; regardless, he has nothing more to say on the topic.
<3> Inheritance, apparently. I''m a relative of the previous Guildmaster, granted the position by his will.
VARANT: Nepotism, then.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> That''s what I''d normally call it, yes.
Varant grunts neutrally. He might even be amused, but you don''t know him well enough to tell.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
<2> That''s just the tip of it. Next, he''ll promote me to advanced maid trainer, then custodian supreme¡ and finally, the ultimate position: head cook.
Varant nods knowingly, as though this were all a tragic but inevitable future.
<3> That''s not exactly fair, in this case.
VARANT: You''ve a lot to prove before you can say that much.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> Certainly looks like it.
Varant stares at the player with his usual neutral frown, but has no more to say.
<2> And I''m generally good at that part, but if I guess correctly, we''re in too deep for me to be confident in my current capabilities.
Varant says nothing, and his expression doesn''t seem to change¡ªthough you''d swear his face isn''t quite as tight as it was a minute ago.
<3> It''s not my job to prove anything. It''s my job to help run this guild.
Varant eyes the player with some suspicion but says nothing.
Her face impassionate and her voice serene, Annessa provides Varant with a more thorough introduction as she glances between the two of you.
ANNESSA: Varant is our senior trainer, and oversees basic training as well as advanced training for all one-handed combat and master training for guardian classes. He''s probably one of the most experienced fighters in the kingdom.
VARANT: Only when it comes to monsters. I''m not training anyone to fight other people, bandits or no. And that includes goblins and lephan. If that bothers you, you should make some decisions immediately.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> We''ll have to deal with bandits eventually, no way around it. Probably lephan too. You don''t want to prepare them for that?
VARANT: Let one of the others do it. I''ll cross swords with nobody. Hell, I don''t even know how.
<2> I can deal with it at least.
VARANT: Well, don''t worry too much. The others are better suited for it than I am, anyways.
<3> I approve, thank you.
VARANT: You should know that our adventurers must be prepared for it regardless. The other trainers are not only more willing, but more qualified.
ANNESSA: Varant, you should know at least that I''ve triple checked all the relevant documentation and everything is in order. Moreover, Zoergatha has given them the OK¡ªvouched for them, even.
VARANT: Zoer¡ªhm. I see.
ANNESSA: [Guildmaster], Zoergatha is our master Blackguard trainer. You''ll meet him when he decides to meet you.
Without warning, the door to the training yard opens, and a fierce-eyed young noble enters the room with silent and graceful steps. Like Varant, there is extensive scarring across his face¡ªfor his part, including a lost eye¡ Indications that he''d once spent a long and difficult time without the aid of a healer.
Annessa turns to face him, but Varant continues staring impassively at the Guildmaster.
FIERCE-EYED NOBLE: ¡The new Guildmaster.
ANNESSA: Yes. [Guildmaster], this is Messen, our advanced two-handed combat trainer and master Knight trainer.
Messen walks up to stand beside Varant, the both of them looking straight at the Guildmaster. Messen''s posture is both relaxed and imperious, but his one eye is dark with indiscernible thoughts as he scrutinizes your own.
[GUILDMASTER]: Good to meet you, Messen. Savron praised all of you in his letter. And he said that you in particular showed immense promise.
Somehow, Messen''s stare becomes even more focused. His voice, however, is utter calm. It is quiet in its confidence, but rich enough to fill the entire room without being raised. And right now, despite the lack of overt harshness in is tone, all that confident calmness condenses into two piercing words:
MESSEN: You lie.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> What do you mean¡?
MESSEN: Exactly what I say. I''ve never met the previous Guildmaster. Needless flattery is one thing, but don''t mix it with outright lies.
<2> You falsely accuse me, but¡ why?
MESSEN: I''ve never met the previous Guildmaster. I''ve received enough flattery in my life, such that I tire of it. But an outright lie is contemptible.
<3> I''m not, and I don''t appreciate your blatant fabrications.
MESSEN: You''ll explain how he mentions me by name, then. I''ve never met the previous Guildmaster. Needless flattery is the standard for my birthright, and I thought I''d left both behind.
[GUILDMASTER]: That doesn''t make sense¡ It''s exactly what he said in his letter, the one I got with the notice of property transfer. I still have it on me, here¡
Annessa immediately straightens at the mention of a letter, and her sharp eyes follow your hand as you pull it from a coat pocket. You pass the letter to Messen as proof.
Messen eyes the letter itself with some wariness as he takes it from you, opening it with his slender fingers. His every motion is made of trained elegance.
Annessa steps quickly behind him, almost instantaneously, and then peers over his shoulder without the slightest regard for privacy or personal space. Messen doesn''t seem to notice or care.
MESSEN: ¡And he mentions me by name.
Varant simply grunts, but an extra crease in his face indicates some combination of surprise and concern.
After a brief time, a subtle change in Messen''s demeanor¡ªfrom intensely focused to simply stoic¡ªindicates that he''s finished reading.
ANNESSA: ¡I''d examined the will and all related documents, but didn''t know there was a personal letter¡ It''s his handwriting¡
Messen is still expressionless, but his words betray his confusion.
MESSEN: This is¡
ANNESSA: ¡I''ll look into it.
Messen hands her the parchment and, with her too-focused face lowered halfway to the open letter in her hands, she makes a quick stride forward¡ only to remember that it doesn''t actually belong to her.
ANNESSA: My apologies, Guildmaster. Might I borrow this for a while?
[GUILDMASTER]: Sure. I''ll get it back, right?
ANNESSA: By tomorrow at the very latest¡
She seems surprisingly absent-minded at the moment, in contrast to the sharp demeanor she''d displayed until now.
VARANT: ''Ey. You forgot me.
ANNESSA: Once I finish¡ I''ll show you, if¡
She immediately paces off to one of the staircases on the far side of the room. Her face is still bent over the letter, as if she''s physically unable to take her eyes off its contents. She leaves the scene.
[GUILDMASTER]: Uh¡ wasn''t she supposed to give me a tour or something?
Varant and Messen grunt in unison. After a second, they give each other a quick look before turning back to the new Guildmaster.
VARANT: I think I know what she''s up to, and it won''t take long. Follow us, we''ll show you around the yards at least. She''d probably ask us to do that anyways.
They first take you through the door to the training yard, quite large and entirely clear at the moment. The stonework on the ground is noticeably better, providing a smoother surface for sparring and the like. They introduce you to three storage sheds and the supplies kept in each. Everything is old and somewhat worn, but well-cared for.
VARANT: Of course. It''s not like we have anything better to do with our time.
Then they take you to the front courtyard. It''s a large property, and the three-story guildhouse stands well above the surrounding buildings. It''s surrounded by a high stone wall, in need of some repair but still serviceable.
Both Messen and Varant are quite amicable now¡ªfor what you''ve seen of them, at least. Meaning, they are largely silent and ever stoic, but are communicative and thorough as they guide you around. For Messen''s part, the letter provided him with some confidence in both your abilities and intentions. Varant has picked up on this sentiment from both him and Annessa.
You notice that they are both thin and worn. You wonder how the guild has been doing all these years¡
[GUILDMASTER]: How has the guild been holding up? I''m impressed you''re still operational.
Neither of them change expressions, but you can definitely sense a dissatisfactory frown from each of them.
VARANT: Only barely. It''s been¡ difficult the past few years.
[GUILDMASTER]: My impression is that there''s very little left, even to pay you. Thank you for sticking around.
Nether of them say anything, but they each look somewhat somber.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> You decide not to press the subject.
They say nothing, and you wonder if they''ve any real hope left at all.
<2> I''ve known poverty, and I don''t care for it. It''s hard to imagine I''ll be the difference between failure and perseverance, but I''ll do my best to make sure we all earn what we deserve.
They don''t say anything, of course. You can''t tell whether they''re grateful, doubtful, suspicious, or all of the above.
<3> Your perseverance is¡ Well, it''s something to admire. I''m simultaneously impressed and intimidated by all three of you. Oh¡ªsorry¡ the needless flattery¡
Again in unison, the two master trainers utter a soft grunt. But you''re pretty sure they didn''t mind your comment this time.
They take you counter-clockwise around the edge of the yard. On the north side is an empty office, almost a house. Next to it, adjacent to the gate, is a large storehouse with a sort of merchant''s booth facing the guild''s entrance. On the other side of the gate is a large lotch stable, currently with a single resident. Beyond that, close to the guildhouse, is a large dormitory for the adventurers. It is shuttered and locked. Behind that is a provisions storage shed and cellar, situated between the dormitory and a stand-alone kitchen in the far corner. Even at a distance, you can tell that they are both regularly used but poorly cared for.
Just as you re-enter the front hall of the guildhouse, Annessa comes down to meet you.
ANNESSA: I again apologize, [Guildmaster]. The previous Guildmaster was¡ very important to us.
VARANT: Looks like you found something.
ANNESSA: It''s less than I''d hoped, but more than I should have expected.
She hands the still-unfolded letter to Varant, who starts looking through it.
ANNESSA: It''s a simple trick that we found use for from time to time¡ the juice of Pirpurran rindfruits can be used as an ink, nearly invisible once it dries, but easily revealed by the touch of a flame. He wrote a brief note at the bottom¡
Varant''s tightened frown is the only indication that he''s finished reading.
VARANT: ¡Well he''s just a right ????ing bastard.
MESSEN: I didn''t realize you held the man in such high regard.
ANNESSA: It''s true, that might be the best he''s ever spoken about anybody.
Varant steps over to hand you the letter back. You inspect the newly manifested writing at its bottom, revealed in a smudgy dark brown.
Annessa, if you''re reading this, you''re a dirty snoop and I miss you. I miss you all.
¡ª Savron
ANNESSA: And yet¡
She sighs.
ANNESSA: Yet, it doesn''t explain anything. [Guildmaster], do you know how or when Savron died?
[GUILDMASTER]: All I heard was that he left for the Crusade and never came back.
Annessa and Varant look at each other for a moment, and Messen eyes the two of them neutrally¡ªcuriously even, at least you think¡ªwhile gently crossing his arms.
ANNESSA: It''s the same¡
VARANT: I lost sight of him when we scrambled to retreat. All we know is that he was listed as missing in action. Which, in the case of the Crusades, means you''re dead.
Annessa lowers her head a bit, pondering something with faraway eyes.
ANNESSA: This has been on my mind, but¡ investigating further would take some effort, and¡ Well. Apologies. Karsis only recognizes missing individuals as dead if there''s been no official record of them for four years, though a written will may take longer before it goes into effect. I didn''t see any such stipulation in the will like I expected to, and it''s been over nine years¡
[GUILDMASTER]: Isn''t the postscript rather curious then? It''s like he expected you to wonder¡
ANNESSA: And he mentions Messen by name¡ he had to have been here, but for neither Tami nor Zoergatha to notice¡
MESSEN: Zoer¡ª? ¡Ah.
ANNESSA: He had to have done something to¡ to reset his missing person status¡ there should be a record, unless¡ªmaybe he passed a letter to the king''s officials directly? Or even the House¡?
Though her downcast face is expressionless, Annessa''s eyes twitch back and forth as she searches furiously for an explanation that might be even remotely plausible.
Messen is eyeing her from the side, his face utterly stoic but his eyes now benign.
MESSEN: I can almost guarantee that you''ll think of nothing useful until you''ve discovered something more. If Zoergatha can''t help with an investigation, I might still have some influence.
Annessa gives a brief smile in the direction of her unfocused gaze as she returns to the present.
ANNESSA: You''re right. Guildmaster, let me show you the rest of the guildhouse, and then you can rest for the evening¡ªor do as you please.
After a very brief tour of the guildhouse, you are introduced to your room on the second floor. It''s spacious and tidy and¡ªsurprisingly¡ªalready prepared for you. Just as you wonder what you''re going to do about supper, Annessa returns with a knock on your door and a small platter in hand, setting it on the room''s small table with a vividly nostalgic look on her face and in her eyes. The mental image of Savron, sitting right where you are now, is strong enough to impress upon you the significance of your situation and the importance of your new duties.
It''s a modest meal, old bread and cheese and two shriveled fruits, but you get the feeling that what''s in front of you is better than any of them have eaten in months.
Once you decide to take your rest, the day ends.
[1.02] Starting From Zero
Act I ? Scena 2:
Starting From Zero
It''s midmorning of the next day as you and Annessa leave the Mayika governor''s office, situated squarely in the middle of the Royal District.
Her uniform is sharp enough¡ªor perhaps unusual enough¡ªthat she draws the gazes of several bystanders, not excluding the local nobility.
[GUILDMASTER]: Thank you for helping me get that done, and for leading the way here.
ANNESSA: It was for the best; I also needed to request that they forward us any complaints that are within our expertise to deal with. It''s also a good excuse to introduce you to the district. You probably won''t be coming here often, but you should know your way around.
First, she walks you around the Highpeal Square, pointing out the offices of officials and and a few mansions belonging to prominent citizens. She doesn''t need to point out the Mayika Chamber, local office of the House of the Nine Virtues, its front adorned with symbols related to the Virtues and their aspects. The square is probably named after its tall bell tower, towering over everything in the city¡ªexcepting the royal palace just to the north¡ Or rather, the Palace of Governance. Annessa explains that the royal family actually lives in a small manse attached to the western side, and the palace itself hosts suites of administrative offices for national and international matters, while local issues are seen to in the offices in Highpeal Square.
The palace is comparatively modest, but still the city''s dominating feature and visible from nearly every street and alleyway. You pass by its gate as you wander from the square into the well-kept roads of the Royal District''s residential areas. The noble''s mansions are quite grand; in some cases, extraordinarily gaudy. Golden embellishments and silver statues, gemstones set in the doors and windows, unnecessary arches with intricate carvings¡ all there simply to flaunt the family''s wealth¡ªin a time when so many people are still struggling due to the repeated losses of the Crusades. But it''s a pleasant and interesting walk nonetheless, despite the occasional stares of passing nobles and servants running errands. Annessa identifies the residences of probably every noble family in the city, though you''re sure you''ll never remember them.
By mutual agreement, you don''t stretch the tour more than necessary, and soon you''re both on your way back to the guild.
Passing back through Highpeal Square, there''s now a small group of minstrels in front of the small fountain at its center, performing a spirited but light-hearted piece¡ªpredictably, about the Infernal Six.
As much as you might feel jaded about their over-popularity, you remember that they were¡ªand probably still are¡ªan inspiration for you as well. For a moment you reminisce about the time you saw them in person, though far away and across a crowd¡
It was six years ago in the city of Arkastor, capital of the Arkavian Empire. You''re perched on the roof of a house so you can see over the masses of people¡ªmore than you''ve ever seen in one place. The Infernal Vanguard, more popularly known as the Infernal Six, have arrived in the city and the dukes insist that they make a public appearance. They are standing on the small dais that surrounds the fountain in the middle of the Imperial Square. From salleted head to sabatoned heel, they wear the kind of fantastical gear that every adventurer dreams about. Eagerly, you watch and listen as they are introduced by an imperial herald¡
IMPERIAL HERALD: ¡to our grand capital! An inspiration for adventurers everywhere, and a bright hope for we citizens of the Empire! With the blessings of the emperor and the five dukes, I now present to you: the Infernal Vanguard!
Brimrose, the Blazing Maiden!
The ever-burning knight who rides the flames themselves into battle!
Grimlock, the Arcane Ravager!
The grim-faced battlemage of unimaginable prowess! Lord of Fire, Ice, and Thunder!
Heartshade, the Blood Reaper!
The scarlet maiden who walks a carpet of ever-flowing red!
Emberly, the Flame Princess!
The hell conjurer, whose walls of fire consume entire cities!
Tristan, the... uh... it''s Tristan!
The audience goes wild. Tristan gives the herald a thumbs-up. The audience goes wilder.
And the Divine Herald herself... The white lady, the Saintess of Death!
She who named the Ninth Virtue! Her healing prowess is as feared as it is beloved! Tremble, ye wicked! Fear not, O faithful!
¡You come back to the present as you and Annessa leave the Royal District, heading east to the Gate Road.
You''re halfway back to the guild by the time you ask the question that you need to ask the most.
[GUILDMASTER]: So¡ how bad is it?
Annessa''s expression doesn''t change, and she addresses the issue matter-of-factly.
ANNESSA: We have no adventurers at this time. We''ve trained a few over the years, but without being able to put together a full party, we would eventually refer them to the northern guilds. As far as I know, we''re the only guild in the heartlands still operational¡ªif only technically.
[GUILDMASTER]: Speaking of, how were you able to last this long?
ANNESSA: We were a fairly successful guild with decent savings, and Savron gave his personal assets to the guild before he left for the Crusade. Many of the other staff and even adventurers included the guild in their wills as well.
[GUILDMASTER]: That''s a lot of loyalty¡
She nods, and sad smile shows briefly on her face before it fades into pensive solemnity.
ANNESSA: We''re not wholly without income. Varant, Messen, and Tami still take care of a lot of low-level quests. The others¡ can''t really, or won''t, for reasons of their own. We did well enough for a while, but the last couple years have been¡ difficult.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> I''m sorry¡ I''ll do what I can, for whatever that''s worth.
ANNESSA: If it means anything, I believe you. In a way, the future is more uncertain than ever¡ªbut that could be seen as an improvement.
<2> I could tell¡ It''s not right to have to live on such meager means. For anyone in this city, really.
Annessa looks thoughtful, but does not respond.
<3> How difficult is difficult? Varant said the same thing¡
ANNESSA: We¡ can''t eat as much as we should. Tami''s occasional hunts help, but¡
She trails off, and you don''t press the subject.
[GUILDMASTER]: So recruitment is top priority, then. But starting from zero is rough¡ Especially with little money to offer. We can''t even afford sign-on bonuses, can we?
She shakes her head gently.
ANNESSA: It''s a lot to ask, but I don''t suppose you have any innovative ideas?
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> I can''t think of anything novel at the moment, to be honest¡
ANNESSA: Hm¡ Well, I think we should get together with the others later and attempt to scrounge up some ideas.
<2> Taverns are always a good place to start¡ But you knew that.
She nods.
ANNESSA: We''ll definitely start there. But we''ll need more than that, of course. I''ll ask the staff to get together in the next couple days, we''ll start with the basics and hope for some good ideas.
<3> We should at least ask the House for a Cleric or sanctioned healer.
ANNESSA: We should have thought of that, to be honest. I doubt they''ll have anyone to spare, at least soon, but that''s a must. But after that¡ Let''s get the guild staff together. We''ll have to try our best to come up with something more, and soon.
[GUILDMASTER]: It''s a good plan. If we can call it that.
ANNESSA: We might as well.
For the first time, you sense a hint of amusement from her.
ANNESSA: Well, to start with, I''ll probably spend the rest of the day writing recruitment posters¡
[GUILDMASTER]: Is that something I could help with?
She gives you a cautious stare. She squints her eyes even, as if wanting you to know just how deep her doubts run.
ANNESSA: ¡I don''t trust your handwriting.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> But my handwriting is exquisite! Prettier than a merodon''s flower-cap and more majestic than a pirouetting baravyrn!
ANNESSA: ¡That sounds just as legible as a gribbet''s slime trail.
<2> The words of a faithless villain!!
ANNESSA: I have plenty of faith. In my own strengths.
<3> ¡Well. That''s reasonable.
ANNESSA: Of course it is.
[GUILDMASTER]: Uh-huh.
<4> You haven''t even seen my handwriting¡
ANNESSA: I don''t have to. Do you need to see me try to fight a kalrok to be able to guess that I can''t fight monsters?
[GUILDMASTER]: Uhhh¡
ANNESSA: Don''t worry, I''ll get it done. If you don''t mind, we could continue our tour of the city tomorrow while we post them.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> I''m looking forward to it.
Annessa nods.
ANNESSA: Tomorrow then, probably before noon.
<2> I''m honestly still tired from my traveling, but work is work and I won''t miss this opportunity.
ANNESSA: Very good. I''ll find you tomorrow before noon.
<3> Think we could stop at a tavern or even a food stall while we''re out adventuring in the urban wilderness?
ANNESSA: Please, Mayika is quite tame! ¡The part we''ll be visiting, at least. As far as food¡ well. We can afford something.
She seems quite content with your proposal.
You walk in silence for a while longer, eventually stopping in front of the guild''s front gate, across from that eye-catching two-story house. Then you hear a cheerful voice greeting you from behind, and turn around to find a cyan-haired woman leading a lotch-driven wagon loaded with crates.
CHEERFUL TRADER: Hello! Do either of you belong to this guild?
You and Annessa both nod but say nothing, uncertain of what to make of this unexpected encounter. Thinking back to the sounds of rumbling cartwheels and the grunting of a lotch, you realize that this person has been following you ever since you stepped onto the Gate Road.
CHEERFUL TRADER: Excellent! I''m hoping to sell surplus Imperial arms and armor. From Arkavis, I mean. Who should I talk to?This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
ANNESSA: I''m afraid the guild is unlikely to have the funds to purchase anything from you. I would go so far as to suggest it would be a waste of time on your part, despite how much we might desire your wares.
The cheerful trader looks concerned for a moment.
CHEERFUL TRADER: ¡I see. Hmmm. Well, I''ll be back tomorrow then.
She immediately turns her cart around and heads back north, without leaving you the opportunity to say anything. You and Annessa look at each other, wondering why she''d think anything would change within a day.
Entering the gate, you''re halfway to the guildhouse when a piercing-eyed traveler exits its front door.
She and Annessa smile gently at each other as they approach.
ANNESSA: Guildmaster, this is Tami, our advanced archery and master Ranger trainer.
So, not a traveler then. It''s not your fault, she would''ve fooled anybody.
After a few strides more, the three of you meet and exchange greetings.
TAMI: The new Guildmaster?
ANNESSA: Yes. [Guildmaster] and I just finished getting the transfer officialized.
? Tami smiles at you, but only ever so slightly. It seems the guild staff are a reserved bunch; or maybe their recent hardships have something to do with it. In Tami''s case, her face is ever serene and unreadable, but her tone varies from teacherly to childishly playful (or both) at any given moment.
TAMI: I heard Zoergatha vouched for you.
ANNESSA: It''s true. I was surprised too.
[GUILDMASTER]: I''m not exactly sure what that means, to be honest¡ How do I even take that?
ANNESSA: It means he thinks you''re capable, in most every way that''s relevant to your role. Which, coming from him¡
TAMI: It''s fine if you let it swell your ego for a little while¡ªa little confidence could do us all some good right now. But just a little bit, of course.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> I certainly appreciate the confidence, that''s for sure.
TAMI: You know, perhaps I should ask him for a morale booster myself¡
She feigns giving it serious consideration, her head tilted and her finger raised to her bottom lip.
<2> My ego is already impressively large, thank you. It''s truly a massive specimen.
ANNESSA: I can attest to that. [Guildmaster]''s shining self-confidence is like a lit beacon, drawing strange merchants to the guild''s very gates.
TAMI: Oooh?
Annessa waves it off as unimportant.
<3> Any idea when I''ll meet him? I''m curious as to how he even knows that much about me.
ANNESSA: Soon. Of course, you''ll need a way to contact him for guild business, he''ll arrange that with you at the time. As for how he knows¡ Well, he''s our Blackguard master.
She leaves off with that, as if it explains everything. And it probably does.
Annessa turns to Tami.
ANNESSA: Will you be free tomorrow? We need to do some recruitment strategizing as soon as possible.
TAMI: I''ll be here. Just let me know when you have a specific time.
ANNESSA: Of course, thank you. As always, let me know if you need anything. We''ll always be here.
TAMI: Thank you¡ we both appreciate it, and always will. I''ll see you tomorrow then, the both of you.
[GUILDMASTER]: Thanks Miss Tami, it was good to meet you.
For just a moment, Tami looks a bit confounded. She walks off, muttering¡
TAMI: Why does everyone always have to call me ''miss''¡?
After you part, you and Annessa enter the guildhouse. Once inside the deep dim-and-lamplight of the front hall, she stops and turns to you.
ANNESSA: I appreciate your offer to help with the recruiting notices, but please leave it to me. It''s my forte after all. However it does remind me that I should be introducing you to the more formal aspects of your role¡ªincluding the paperwork, and the paperwork for all the paperwork. But you should temper your excitement, as it''s more important for me to get these notices done today.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> Um¡ªyeah. Looking forward to it¡
She gives you a knowing smirk.
<2> We''ve still got a lot of daylight ahead of us. I''d actually rather do paperwork than sit around bored.
ANNESSA: I''m sorry, I understand the sentiment¡ Messen''s probably out for the moment, but if you find Varant, why don''t you try convincing him to show you more of the city?
[GUILDMASTER]: That''s fine advice, thank you.
<3> It''s fine. In fact I think you should consider scaling up our goals for the area we can cover with the postings. By a lot.
With her closest eye, she pierces you with a look that is both suspicious and amused.
[ only available if you picked option <1> when she said she doesn''t trust your handwriting ]
<4> Just leave it to me! After all, remember that magnificent handwriting I talked about?
She turns her most sarcastic glower on you, and you know you''ve succeeded in amusing her.
She then leaves you to your own devices for the rest of the day. You''re free to roam the guild property.
[ This marks the start of a player exploration phase. ]
You explore the guild property as you wish. Eventually you run into Varant in the training yard, setting up a small practice area in a corner.
[ Interacting with Varant will end the exploration phase for the day. ]
Varant is rummaging around in one of the supply sheds.
[GUILDMASTER]: You look like you''re up to something.
VARANT: Sure am.
He grunts as he moves another training dummy, as heavy as an armored warrior due to the weights at the bottom of the stand, to its spot against the wall.
VARANT: Well. Just got nostalgic is all¡
He looks around for a couple seconds.
VARANT: Say¡ You know where Annessa is?
[GUILDMASTER]: She''s in the guildhouse, writing out recruitment posters.
VARANT: Perfect. So, how about it. Want to show me where you''re at?
You look around cautiously as if worried that Annessa might appear, remembering the mention of her Savron left in his letter.
[GUILDMASTER]: ¡Let''s do it.
[ This is the player''s opportunity to choose a class and select skills and such, and make some other combat preparations. ]
Varant gestures to the middle of the training yard, and you square off against each other once you''re content with your chosen loadout. Varant has no weapon, but he''s put on an extra vest over his lightly armored coat; you get the feeling that with the practice weapon you''re provided with, you can''t meaningfully harm him. The look in your eyes doesn''t go unnoticed.
VARANT: I''m simply here to see how well you can swing and how well you can hit. Can tell a lot by the feel alone, and I like seeing your technique from this angle as well. At least sometimes.
[ Varant gives you a very basic combat tutorial, making sure you know the basics of combat, the user interface, and any unique gimmicks the game might have. ]
You''re panting a bit after finishing his evaluation, but he seems mostly unaffected by the exertion.
VARANT: Hm! You''re just C-rank at best, but you''ve got potential all right¡ªyou''ve got the mind for it, the will to improve. You''ve already learned how to learn. So, get over here and let''s do some freeform training to get you comfortable.
He walks you over to the training area he set up before.
[ This is an optional opportunity for free, quick combat phases. You can switch class, switch skill loadouts, mess with whatever kind of character building the game might have. When you choose to finish you get a scripted level-up, sending you to 11. ]
Varant turns to stare across the training yard, a strange look emerging on his face¡ªsolemn, doubtful, but also¡ maybe wistful?
VARANT: ¡It''s good to be doing work again. Even if it''s not for real. It''s¡ good to know there was a reason for me to keep my skills sharp all this time.
[GUILDMASTER]:
<1> You know¡ despite all the good reasons why I shouldn''t expect us to successfully revive this place¡ I can''t help but find myself looking forward to the future.
VARANT: To be honest¡ I just can''t let myself. I''ve been too long with no reason to hope. But¡ It''s good that you do. Really is.
<2> That''s¡ good. But¡ªto be honest? I''m scared. Our chances of success are not encouraging.
VARANT: Nothin'' new. Welcome to our party. But I''ll say this much¡ Just the fact that your position is filled means we can move forward again. Or at least try to. Bureaucracy''s a right ????in'' sowbuggin'' ragstuffin'' ass-hoofer, you know?
<3> I''m glad. Personally I''m keeping my expectations low, but¡ well, like Miss Tami said, we could all use some confidence right now.
VARANT: You too? Hahaha. The woman''s cursed to be called ''Miss Tami'' for the rest of her life.
[GUILDMASTER]: Is it a big deal? It just feels right¡
VARANT: Nehhh. The only problem is you''ll have to put up with her constant muttering about it, heh.
[GUILDMASTER]: Well, forward''s the only way to go. And I feel like today was a real start, partially thanks to you.
VARANT: It''s my job. And I''m good at it. And I like it. Just keep coming back, okay? B-Rank''s in your future, might as well make it sooner rather than later.
[GUILDMASTER]: Absolutely.
Messen walks into the training yard, a quest notice in his hand.
He walks past you and shows the notice to Varant. You step towards Varant yourself, hoping to make it clear that guild business is also your business.
Varant takes the cue and hands you the notice when he''s done with it.
VARANT: I''ve got an idea¡ Messen, you know that Annessa is holed up in the guild office writing recruitment posters? And probably will be all day?
It''s an extermination request from a warehouse owner on the south side of the city. Aberrats got into their provisions storage, at least two of them. They need a guarantee that there will be none left.
MESSEN: ¡You want to take the Guildmaster with us?
VARANT: I gauged ''em at C-rank.
[GUILDMASTER]: ¡.Aberrats? Classic. In a city though?
VARANT: You seen those walls down south?
[GUILDMASTER]: No¡
MESSEN: Nor have I. Nothing worthy of being called a wall, at least.
VARANT: Heh. Messen speaks truth. This warehouse here is on the very edge of the city. What I''m more surprised about is that there''re aberrats in the Rise at all. The Talus Rise I mean, the stretch of land between the city and the World Wall.
MESSEN: Shrubland is plenty for cunning creatures such as those. I''m not surprised, but I admit I''ve not seen any southside before either.
[GUILDMASTER]: Hm. I didn''t realize you guys took on quests at all. Makes sense, though.
VARANT: Really it''s just us two and Tami who still do it. And the two of us are¡ well past our prime, in some sense or another. But any income is better than none.
[GUILDMASTER]: Yeah¡ Well, I''m willing to go if you''re willing to take me.
MESSEN: You should do most of the fighting, but we will be vigilant. Nothing will be able to meaningfully wound you.
You shouldn''t be surprised by how willing he is to help train you¡ªthis is his job, after all. But it does make you look at him in a better light.
[GUILDMASTER]: I''ll do my best.
VARANT: Let''s find you a real weapon, and we''ll head out. Messen, supplies?
MESSEN: Yes. I''ll meet you at the gate.
[1.03] Big Rats and Bigger Roles
Act 1 ? Scena 3:
Big Rats and Bigger Roles
You, Varant, and Messen quickly prepare to embark on the low-tier quest they''ve picked up before the day runs out of sunlight.
| [Guildmaster]
|
Varant
|
Messen
|
Soon, armed and armored with some rudimentary gear, you travel south on Gate Road alongside Messen and Varant. It''s not long until you reach the city border, where you see a row of toppled stones that were probably once a wall. Maybe. The warehouse is only a little ways west along the stone rim that marks the border of the city proper, and it takes you only fifteen minutes before you reach the quest location.
You can see why they might have an aberrat problem. You suspect that the owners should be more worried about total structural collapse rather than a few aberrats, but that''s not what you''re being paid for.
[GUILDMASTER]: So if I remember the stories correctly, the typical advice for these things is to fight them somewhere they can''t get the jump on you. I also remember that that''s notoriously difficult to do.
VARANT: Good! I was just going to send us in there, but since you''re thinking so hard about it, how would you approach this situation if your life or livelihood depended on it?
You blank out for a moment, but eventually stumble on what sounds like the start of an answer at least.
[GUILDMASTER]: Light is a good place to start. If luring them out isn''t viable or is needlessly time-consuming, we could attempt to light up the interior of the warehouse to such an extent that they can''t make use of the darkness. And, if I remember correctly, they don''t see well in bright lighting.
VARANT: I''d say that''s a fair way to go! But an easy fight isn''t all we''re after¡ªremember, we need to guarantee that we got ''em all. And if they got in without an open door, they can get out without an open door.
[GUILDMASTER]: Should we start by checking the perimeter, closing up any gap we might find?
MESSEN: We''d be fortunate indeed if it is that easy. But it''s the best place to start.
VARANT: If there is an obvious entrance, it''s a safe bet that''s all we''re looking for. But it''s not a bet you should make. Our job isn''t just to knock out a few giant shrew-monsters, it''s to make sure the problem is solved for good.
MESSEN: The Monstrums don''t emphasize enough that aberrats are burrowing creatures. We will have to check for tunnel entrances in a considerable radius. Unfortunately¡ this is a city.
VARANT: Bah. I one time had to clean out an aberrat colony that was so entrenched I had to check every cellar in every house of the village to make sure I got all their exits. And there were five.
You shudder at the thought.
MESSEN: Don''t worry too much¡ªI checked with the questgiver. They''ve only been here two days, that they''re aware of.
So, the three of you parade around the wall of the warehouse, knocking at loose planks and trying to decide which gaps are potential entrances. Eventually, on the south-facing side, you stumble upon a hole in the wall that has clearly been gnawed wide. Varant stays to monitor the hole, and you and Messen venture out into the knee-high brush south of the city, looking for more tunnels as well as loose materials to plug up the hole.
You succeed in the latter but not the former, thankfully. With some effort the hole in the wall is adequately filled with a boulder, some loose stones, and bright clay-like soil. You were sure you heard a nasty squeak coming from the other side during the process¡
You continue your route around the warehouse, plugging up anything slightly suspicious, but in the end you conclude that there was likely just the one entrance.
[GUILDMASTER]: Do you think we could get a few lanterns from somewhere nearby?
VARANT: Heh heh heh, I like your plan, I do. But it''s not what we''re going to do today. Today, you''re going to fight them on their home ground and you''re going to win. As far as you''re concerned, you succeed today if you walk in there with zero aberrat corpses, and walk out with at least two.
[GUILDMASTER]: ¡
VARANT: Hey, just be glad I didn''t blindfold you!
MESSEN: You should be very glad he didn''t blindfold you.
[GUILDMASTER]: ¡
Aberrats are a classic benchmark for a starting adventurer. Killing one by yourself might as well be a rite of passage in some places. This is precisely because they''re notorious for being difficult to kill¡ªnot because they are sturdy, far from it¡ªbut because new adventurers find them impossible to hit. You''re fairly concerned, but it helps that Varant claims you''re already at C-rank, whereas even D-rankers should be able to handle these monsters. Well¡ one of them, at least.
[ This would be a player combat phase, the first proper one. It''s tons of fun I promise, and you''re missing out. But I''ll write out a scenario for it just for you. ]
You take a minute to check your gear, and then march to the warehouse without letting your apprehension get the better of you. You go in the front door, relieved to see that it''s not entirely dark inside. But there are definite patches of pitch-blackness mixed with the normal gloom of a poorly lit room. In a few lucky places shafts of evening sunlight streak down to the floor from the rickety ceiling. Frankly, you''re not sure if you''re more worried about aberrats coming from the dark or beams falling from above.
But it''s the first that gets you, not fifteen seconds after Varant closes the doors behind you. With no warning, it lunges at you from nowhere, gouging your shoulder guard. And then it disappears. Almost by luck, you''re looking in the right direction when it comes at you again, and with your fear spiking you leap out of the way like a cat scared by a spider.
You remember all the advice given by your father and Savron, but putting it into action is another thing entirely. It''s just the one aberrat so far, so you''re caught off guard but not pressured too hard. It''s a meter long, two meters including its tail, and it tries to leap at you from the dark before scurrying away out of your reach. It seems to be trying to get you to follow it to the other side of the warehouse, but you hold your ground. And you''re not wholly without experience, having accompanied your father on not just his hunts but also a few low-tier monster exterminations when the Crusades left the nearby villages without the help of adventurers. So first you focus on avoiding its attacks, and then you focus on learning its movements, and then you focus on finding opportunities to fight back.
It''s almost a couple minutes before you do, but when your attack lands, the meter-long monster dies outright. You land another attack just to be sure, then warily turn your eyes to the darkness beyond. Nothing comes.
Varant and Messen have been crouched in front of the door, poised to launch themselves forward but trying to seem as small and unthreatening as possible, allowing the monster to focus on you.
VARANT: Good!
MESSEN: Very good.
[GUILDMASTER]: It took me minutes just for a small monster¡
MESSEN: The way you learned to fight it was very methodical. This is what you will need to do with every new monster you encounter. And it''s one of the hardest things for some adventurers to learn.
VARANT: Like I said, you''ve already learned how to learn. And let''s not mention that you were able to down the bugger with a single hit. For my part, I''m excited to get you as much training and experience as possible¡ªI''d like to see how far you can go! But keep an eye out now, there''s¡ well. Find out for yourself.
Too late old man, you already spoiled it. Clearly that means there''s more than one of them left.
You warily move forward into the dark, trying to figure out how you can avoid getting hit when you just can''t see enough of the room. But you hear just the softest little scratch of claw on wood, and you launch yourself to the ground, skidding forward on one knee. You''ve moved so far out of the way that it has time to turn around and jump at you again before you spot it. Just a quick sidestep this time, well-timed, does the trick, and you''re back on your feet again¡ª