ã€ŠWhen The King Sleepsã€‹


 Archmages Fumble

    Chandeliers dimmed slightly when the King stopped briefly on the stair¡¯s elbow to look behind, at the grand hall he left behind. Tall and wide, to some reminded the insides of a cathedral, it was a true marvel of engineering and architectural artistry. He didn¡¯t linger long though, only taking a wide glance at the candle-lighted hall. His Queen, long absent, probably already waited for him in their chamber. As the light flickered, bones bound to the ceiling flashed their brilliant white, yet caught no one¡¯s attention.

    As soon as the royal¡¯s cloak vanished behind a corner, the liveliness of the grand hall returned to its former, already diminished state. No high, uptight nobles who would consider partying with plebians or even merchants honourable remained, nor did children, most women and the old.

    Those who remained though, were the cream of the crop - for those seasoned in parties loud and quiet. Pirates, recently pardoned during the crowning of the royal son, who felt steadier on the wobbling boards in the middle of the ocean than on cobbled streets and carpeted floors of the palace, for example. Similar to them, were thieves and bandits, whose crimes were small enough to set aside during the happy festivities. Funnily though, talking with those two types of guests were mostly merchants, craftsmen and general workers, who normally would scowl and curse even briefly seeing people of their sort.

    Besides other tables, full of food and drink, and in different corners than those in dark clothes and with large hoods, stood scholars and low nobles ¨C mostly young males who still didn''t feel drunk enough to go to sleep, or their bellies called for more filling. Surprisingly, they were the loudest sort, even when the King and his consort were still in the hall. Apart from getting their hands on meat and chalice, they played games, thoughtfully provided by the King by the wide side pillars of the grand hall. During this glorious gathering, not everyone would be content making small talk, flirting elegantly and talking politics for hours on end ¨C so, to snip the fights and squabbles in the bud and protect young maidens from unsightly advances of drunk nobles, plebians and merchants alike, royals made sure to make all types of relatively peaceful entertainment available.

    The only ones who were still seated by the long benches were those higher-born, special guests, famous scholars and members of the arcane community. Knights laughed with beer in hand, their swords left by their squares, their armours in their rooms ¨C yet still you could see the roughness of their hands, comparable only to those common workers and farmers, and the wariness they showed towards the pirates and bandits who talked with those common and righteous in the corners of the grand hall. You didn¡¯t have to ask, to know what their vocation was.

    Next to them, many of the mages in wide robes whose big hats hung on their chairs behind them seemed to be entranced in a lecture given by the dean of biology at the Royal University, a tall, slim man with sharp features and an expression that coupled with his tone of talking, made everyone around interested in what he was about to say.

    Somewhere in between, around the middle of the hall wide and long, with the ceiling high above supported by massive pillars and mighty ceiling beams a wizard sat on a chair. His back was bent, with hands supporting his low-hanging head on his knees. He was bored, super bored.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± he said quietly, seemingly to himself. ¡°Did they leave already?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Archmage. The King left some minutes ago, also, his Majesty asked me to pass on to you that as the highest in ranking, you are responsible for the whole gathering.¡± A boy in servant¡¯s clothing answered after stepping forward from behind the Archmage.

    The man got up from the chair explosively, his eyes sparkling with excitement, with none of the boredom that haunted his face before. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me immediately?¡± Archmage almost shouted.

    The servant stepped back. His face flashed with fear, but thanks to expert training, he restrained the emotion and responded calmly. ¡°I have already done that, Archmage. But it seems I must have been too quiet, I¡¯m sorry for my mistake.¡±

    Archmage Kairon, as he was named, turned around waving his hand dismissively at the servant and headed towards the dias at the far end of the hall. As he walked, he kicked the leg of his apprentice¡¯s chair, making him fall to the not-so-cold but hard floor.

    ¡°Hey! Watch when you step!¡± Fierd shouted, before gathering himself and looking up at his vile assailant. ¡°Oh, it''s you, master. What business do you have with me?¡± He asked, already on his legs and following behind the Archmage towards the dias.

    Kairon graced him with a brief look from head to toe, finding his outfit appropriate and respectable, but wrinkled in more places he wanted to see on his disciple. He dismissed the comments that were already on the tip of his tongue though, it was late after all and even he could show some leniency. ¡°The King left, and unfortunately, his orator took his leave too. I won¡¯t lie in saying that I didn¡¯t expect him to stay much more than what was required of him, a weakling he is. But it¡¯s a shame nonetheless.¡±

    ¡°You want me to act as your orator?¡± Fierd the Apprentice asked, guessing the direction of his master¡¯s thoughts when the older man stopped talking for a moment.

    ¡°Good, sometimes even you are a bit useful.¡± Kairon stopped for a moment to look at his mentee. The boy, a tall one with brown hair, swayed on his legs as he walked. ¡°If you puke on me, I will make you clean all the latrines in the castle.¡± The Archmage proclaimed, with a bit of disdain in his voice.

    They have reached the dias. There, before the throne was enough space for few people to stand, otherwise, it was just a stone platform on which the monarch stayed when meeting guests. Kairon sat on the stairs leading to the royal chair, while Fierd stood next to him. ¡°Tell them to gather next to us.¡± The Archmage said, without moving from his spot. He looked excited for some reason, sitting like that on the stone stairs.

    Fierd took a deep breath and shouted: ¡°AAAAAA!!! On the Archmage¡¯s orders, everyone come to the throne!!¡± The initiating scream worked wonders on catching the attention of everyone in the hall, while the sentence afterwards conveyed the information clearly and quickly. Marvellous work for an apprentice.

    Murmurs went through the whole chamber, as people slowly approached the platform at which Fierd rested his arms on his knees, gathering breath. First to move were the pardoned, fearful of the Archmage¡¯s wrath and a possible return to the dark, damp cells they called coffins. Next were the squares, who rushed to their masters with their weaponry in hand ¨C those, feared the knights more than some wizard, regardless of his fame. They have seen the Knights in action after all.

    The ones to arrive first though, were the group of mages that listened to the professor¡¯s lecture by the tables. ¡°What do you want Kairon?¡± One of them asked when they neared.

    Kairon looked at him, smirked and turned to his apprentice. ¡°Come closer.¡± He whispered. When Fierd bent down to his teacher¡¯s level, the Archmage continued. ¡°Tell them to patiently wait for the rest, like my kittens at the tower when I am about to feed them.¡± He whispered.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°What?¡± The apprentice blurted out a bit too loud.

    ¡°Do what I say. Remember I can force you to puke on me.¡± Kairon replied, much quieter than his bit-drunk pupil.

    When Fierd stood up, swallowing his saliva loudly, the rest of the gathering was already in front of the dais, inquisitive looks on most of the faces. Some people were absent of course, as a considerable number of people were sleeping on the floor or benches - slowly carried to their chambers by the annoyed guards - and some were in the toilet, puking their brains out.

    Seeing the state of affairs, Fierd crouched back again. ¡°Do I still have to say it? They have all already gathered.¡± He whispered this time.

    Kairon looked at him with annoyance. ¡°You got lucky ¨C tell them about the competition I told you about. You know, the one I host oftentimes during my travels.¡± Whispering, the Archmage directed his orator.

    Fierd nodded and started to get himself up, but when he was about to straighten his knees, he fell backwards. Fortunately, despite the alcohol coursing through his blood, he managed to save his ass from a rough landing. He got to his feet quickly, face red with embarrassment, and started to talk as soon as he managed: ¡°My master decided to hold a competition! One of wits and courage, strength and dexterity! ¨C¡± The apprentice¡¯s monologue, promising to be grand, cut off in the middle as his master swept him off the floor with his leg as he stood up from the ground.

    Keiron, already on his feet, kicked his pupil in the stomach. ¡°Not that competition! Can¡¯t you read the room? How would we play haunted hide and seek in a fucking hall??¡± He shouted at the fallen boy. The Archmage took a deep breath, flicked the dust off his robe, and turned around to the small crow that gathered. His excitement diminished, replaced by hints of annoyance ¨C but overall, he still was in a good mood.

    ¡°Sorry for that, just a misunderstanding between master and apprentice¡­ Anyway, so ¨C the competition my incompetent pupil was supposed to introduce to you lot, is much grander than any other you have ever participated in. And for prize ¨C a wish, granted by the wondrous Me, Archamge Keiron!!!¡± The wizard finished his speech raising his hands explosively. While he did that, sparks and small explosions appeared around him in a way similar to an aureola.

    Some murmurs could be heard in the crowd, nice and a bit exciting, but not the shock and hopefull shouts the Archmage hoped for.

    ¡°Excuse me! What will the participants need to do?¡± Shouted a tall girl standing next to one much similar to herself, yet smaller ¨C somewhere in the back of the crowd.

    Keiron looked at her, happiness returning to his face after the disappointment that was the gathering¡¯s reaction. ¡°Ekta, isn¡¯t it? I heard about your and your sister¡¯s adventures many times. I hope you will participate, as it will be a contest of storytelling!¡± Excitement fully bloomed on the wizard¡¯s face once more, as his deepest and darkest passion was about to be satisfied for a bit more time.

    ¡°No fake, imagined stories! No second-hand under or overstatements! One story per participant! And most importantly, a perfectly objective judge, a grand spell of my own creation!¡± As he shouted, probably too loud for the late hour and risking reprimand from the king if he heard, the wizard raised his hands high to the ceiling, where white bones were bound to the stone.

    This time, the murmurs were much louder, much closer to the applause Keiron dreamed of. Especially in the midst of the magical community, moved by the revelation ¨C the creation of such a spell, capable of independent reason and decision-making was a reason to celebrate, for them, maybe even greater than what made the King prompt to host a party as grand as this.

    From behind the excited wizard, who couldn¡¯t wait to hear the stories told by the participants, his apprentice came forward ¨C and perhaps in an attempt to lessen his master¡¯s dissatisfaction with him, started to rally the people into taking part in the competition. ¡°Everyone can participate! Just as my master said, the prize is a wish, and you can wish for anything you can imagine ¨C as long as my master is capable of fulfilling it!¡± While the apprentice talked, the master stood by and nodded with satisfaction, confirming with gestures that he agreed, when some curious glances landed on him, in need of verification.

    ¡°You have nothing to worry about! I won¡¯t hurt you ¨C nor will I steal your stories, all copyright will stay with you!¡± He said. ¡°I just want to hear great stories, and the contest is just¡­ a little encouragement. So! Come here and let Fierd write you into the timetable!¡± As he finished, he looked at his apprentice with a meaningful look. The young man noticed a few moments later and rushed for the Castle¡¯s library, where some paper and quil must have been.

    Kairon smiled at his pupil¡¯s back, seeing that a small group had already separated from the main gathering and stepped to the side, next to the table behind which the king¡¯s orator normally sat and waited for an opportunity to do his job.

    A few minutes later, during which the Archmage watched with satisfaction as more and more people joined the queue, Fierd returned with a few half-crumbled pieces of paper and a quill. Reaching the orator¡¯s table, he immediately sat down and began scribbling.

    While his disciple worked his wrist, Kairon watched the attendees in search of those with potentially good stories. Normally, one of such people was in each group, and even though that¡¯s bordering on stereotype, the Archmage believed it.

    Among the knights, the stereotype worked, famous for his bravery and righteous deeds, Altarius was a perfect example of a Valiant Knight, he didn¡¯t stand in the queue though, as his square filled that role.

    Right behind the square, another contender for the win stood in the line. Hark, a pirate lord recently pardoned and ordered to hunt his fellows ¨C Kairon believed that a man rumoured to have survived a Kraken¡¯s attack had to have some good stories behind his belt.

    Closer to his disciple, who was immersed in writing the names, stood Gaftiel, a wizard the Archmage remembered tutoring for a while. Quite rash and impatient, but such qualities benefited the adventures he lived through, at least for those who listened as he talked about them. Most importantly, he was rumoured to hold his own against a dragon, in a duel of sword and sorcery.

    Ones he already shared a word with, Ekta and her twin sister Sekta, were wild cards he hoped to win. Rumours of their adventures reached his ears long before the twins saved the second prince ¨C which made them be personally invited to the party by the Royal family. The story surrounding the prince¡¯s near-death experience was nice, but truthfully, Kairon hoped for some more unheard tale.

    For the last - literally, as he didn¡¯t seem to be hurried when joining the queue, was someone even people less interested in exceptional characters would recognise. Maybe not immediately, but after he introduced himself, they would probably have some recollection. Inferir was his name, and he dabbed in bounty hunting and detective work. One of his recent hunts, for example, made Hark live in a damp cell instead of under a radiant sun on top of his ship.

    Archamge¡¯s stereotype seemed to work, at least partially ¨C as he found at most one promising person per group. It didn¡¯t work though, in a way that not all of the groups were involved, scholars and general workers, among many others, didn¡¯t have anyone amongst them who Kairon deemed interesting. That didn¡¯t mean though, that he wouldn¡¯t let them speak, quite the opposite. After all, gems are found deep beneath the earth.

    While the list was filled, a few servants came and arranged the hall appropriately. They were tired this late into the night, but they worked nevertheless. Chandeliers¡¯ candles were put off, sofas, benches and chairs arranged and low-hanging torches fired. Now, the grand hall looked much more cosy and appropriate for a storytelling competition.

    The Archmage was daydreaming when his apprentice¡¯s voice summoned him to the world once again. ¡°Master, I think that''s all,¡± Fierd said, slowly standing up.

    As Kairon turned towards him, a loud voice reverberated throughout the hall, cranky and scratchy, as if an old chair decided to scream. ¡°No, it¡¯s not! I apply too!¡±

    A piece of bone fell from the ceiling, striking the table at an angle and scratching the paper placed upon it. Now, most heads turned upwards ¨C and saw something they had grown used to already, moving.

    A skeleton bound by thick chains to the hall¡¯s ceiling cackled as it stared with its empty eyesockets at the Archmage, who looked at him with a mixture of curiosity, repressed fear and shock.

    ¡°It¡¯s time this old lich gets some fun for himself, and maybe ¨C a little wish wouldn¡¯t hurt, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± The skull laughed out loud, mocking the old wizard for his foolish promises.

 Of Wizards and Witches [1]

    Fierd looked at his master with puzzlement, both sitting on a wide sofa placed right in front of the royal podium. Before them, was the middle of the circle composed of similar pieces of furniture, taken from all over the castle on the Archmage¡¯s order. Even then, there were a few unfortunate people sitting on hardwood chairs, but most had managed to take a seat on something more comfortable.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you¡­ just not accept his participation? Why do you allow such risk?¡± The apprentice whispered, in an unusually disrespectful way compared to his normal behaviour.

    Kairon took his eyes off the skeleton hanging from the ceiling, once more inert. The Litch¡¯s finger, which he used to mark his participation, was already back in its place too. The Arch Wizard, half-lied on the sofa, his body limp and with a thoughtful, troubled expression. ¡°It''s not that I don¡¯t want to ¨C I just can¡¯t. Promises have power, my apprentice, especially so between powerful magicians. Breaking such a promise will have dire consequences, possibly much worse than what the Lich may unleash if he leaves his bindings.¡±

    Fierd looked down, questions visible on his face. ¡°But¡­ what are we supposed to do then? I don¡¯t want to be the pessimistic crow, but how are they supposed to tell a story better than that pile of bones?¡± The (alive) participants of the competition sat in their places and enjoyed some late-night, non-alcoholic drinks along with snacks prepared by the castle¡¯s kitchen while talking between themself.

    Some consulted their friends and companions about which story to tell, having difficulty in deciding what would be better ¨C especially since the judge isn¡¯t a person, whose preferences can be known. Some, on the other hand, mostly merchants and craftsmen, placed bets on their favourites in the competition ¨C and scarily, the Lich had the most supporters. They believed in the Undead''s long life and experience in the world.

    ¡°It¡¯s a worry for another day, or at least ¨C another few hours. Don¡¯t worry, if the Litch wins and I am forced to unbind him, the absolute peak of our kingdom¡¯s knights and wizards are present here. If we have to, we can give him a battle. And maybe, we will succeed in killing him this time.¡±  Archmage looked worried yet unyielding. It seemed that even the grave news of his mistake, and the subsequent contest participation of the Lich, hadn¡¯t extinguished his drive for stories completely. He still had hope, much of it.

    After taking a deep breath, the Archmage stood up, his expression brightened with a beaming smile ¨C impossible to determine if pake or not ¨C and announced the first contestant.

    ¡°Wandering Wizard Gaftiel! Rumoured to match a Dragon¡¯s skill in a duel of sword and sorcery, please come forward and start your story!¡± He liked the guy, Gaftiel was hard-working, inquisitive and smart, besides being an inpatient adventurous spirit. His time as the Archmage¡¯s trainee was eventful ¨C though, it was a shame Gaftiel hadn¡¯t shown enough promise to make him an official apprentice.

    The wizard stood up from one of the couches, while Kairon sat down. Slowly, he neared a comfortable armchair, left empty to act as the storyteller¡¯s palace, which stood next to the Archmage¡¯s sofa.

    He sat down, turned towards the Archmage, and said: ¡°Kairon, shouldn¡¯t you cast the spell?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No, It¡¯s already active for a looong, long time.¡± The Archmage answered.

    Gaftiel gaped a little, shocked ¨C but soon regained control of himself and started his tale: ¡°Where do I start from¡­¡±

    <hr>

    So¡­ For all of you to understand the tale I want to tell, I will have to start from the beginning. Far back in time from now.

    It all began during the Annual Sorcerer¡¯s Summit ¨C hosted this time by the small town located deep in the Great Border Mountains, called Spring Valley. A beautiful place settled between three peaks reaching the clouds, from where water flows to a lake around which the town is built. Leaving the valley by a significantly bigger river, the water flows down outside of the mountains to unite with the Haktara River.

    We were there in the late spring, as normal, for around a week. So, it¡¯s safe to say the weather was beautiful ¨C I certainly recommend visiting it sometime.

    Early activities of the Summit were eventful, I remember that Grand Wizard Orpheus was given his title in the opening ceremony for his discoveries in the field of frequency¨Crelated magic. He is still to provide the field with a more official name though, I¡¯m afraid.

    But the moment which is important for my story happened much later, during the open laboratories, when we exchanged self-made spells created in the past year.

    My greatest creation of the time was a fairly complex spell that captured water out of the mud. Very useful due to its meagre energy consumption, compared to the spells which can produce similar results. Its only fault is that it leaves the ground un-arable for a while, though.

    I presented it during the Summit, and while I received mostly prise, one person seemed to latch onto my spell to find any flaws and cracks she could criticise ¨C Aurila of Bulrush, a woman of around my age, beautiful as befits a witch ¨C and a focal point in my story.

    As I said, she seemed obsessed. She asked me multiple, relatively complex questions regarding the spell¡¯s creation and usage, which I found nice as I could properly display my abilities ¨C but I didn¡¯t know at the time, that she wasn¡¯t interested in me, or my spell in itself, rather, she was comparing it to her own.

    You see, she too, created a similar spell and was excited to show it to the whole gathering, but my presentation came first, and threw her off her feet. My spell was simply better, not by much, and it didn¡¯t take anything from hers, but it hurt her pride and made her moment disappear ¨C to my understanding.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    She promised me later, after the Summit ended and we were riding in the same direction by chance, that she would trump me the next time we met. I agreed to her challenge, and we even set a general direction in which our next major projects should go ¨C earth alteration.

    <hr>

    ¡°Weak and useless ¨C why not something more useful like necromancy or divination? You are wasting your time child, and it''s not like you have much of it.¡± The pearly white skull, hanging below the ceiling cackled. The Lich spoke much more coherently than before, which made some people doubt that it was him, and look around for the copycat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him, Gaftilel. There is no useless spell, no useless magic ¨C there are only empty skulls that can¡¯t figure out how something may be useful.¡± Archmage retorted, staring angrily at the Lich, who seemed to taunt him.

    ¡°Ha HA! Little lad, you are a thousand years too young to insult my intelligence. Mighthier men than you have tried to challenge it, and failed miserably.¡± The Lich laughed down. As he did, his empty torso mimicked the way the living laugh, and rumbled the chains for the first time in a long, long time.

    Kairon looked to the side for a moment, smiling briefly towards his disciple ¨C who too, seemed as if he were about to burst chuckling. Then, he turned once more to the ceiling and said: ¡°And yet, it¡¯s you who are bound to a ceiling for literal centuries! I would bet the smartest man in the world would find a way out, over such a long time ¨C but now, shush and let the storyteller finish, if I could, I would banish you from the hall for interrupting.¡± As the Archmage talked, an invisible wave of power spread out of him over the hall, enveloping each and every listener, binding their vocal cords and in the case of the Lich, the air around him.

    The last who remained with his tongue untied, Gaftiel the Wandering Wizard, resumed his tale.

    <hr>

    I met Aurila of Bulrush once again, far sooner than I imagined I would, as it was about two and a half months after the gathering in the Great Border Mountains had commerced. In the time between, I had a few small adventures and even managed to win a duel against Cyrion of Tyrmoy, but none of those happenings deserve our attention at the moment, not even my glorious victory.

    We met by chance, at the crossroads leading to the towns of Riverside and Orchidshade from the City of Cambria. I was leaving the city, after dealing with some personal matters of mine, and beating Cyion in a fair duel ¨C she, on the other hand, arrived from Orchidshade, with a basket of fresh apples and pears in hand. We both headed towards the Riverside.

    At first, she was startled. She dropped the basket and drew her wand from behind her coat, ready to strike me with some hasty spell at a moment''s notice. I, on the other hand, remained calm. I didn¡¯t have evil intentions, and I knew a competent witch like her would be able to feel that, as long as she calmed a little and tried.

    Soon, she sheathed her small focus, gathered the scattered fruits and slowly walked up to me, with a questioning expression.

    I will try to recount our conversation as accurately as I can, but considering that Aurila isn¡¯t present here today, I can¡¯t be sure if I missed something.

    ¡°Gaftiel, what brings you to these corners? I thought you stayed further west.¡± Aurila said.

    ¡°Aurila, nice to see you, ¨C I don¡¯t have an area I call home, that¡¯s why it¡¯s ¡®Wandering Wizard¡¯, not ¡®Wizard of Bulrush¡¯ as it¡¯s in your case,¡± I replied.

    She looked at me from head to toe, presumably thinking.

    ¡°Have you come to further squash my ego? You finished prematurely and can¡¯t even give a dame the time she hoped to have?¡± She accused, hits of anger clear in her voice.

    Of course, at first, I didn¡¯t know what she was talking about, but soon I remembered and laughed a bit.

    ¡°Oh, no no no. I haven¡¯t even started to compose the spell ¨C we¡¯ve met purely by chance, Aurila.¡±

    She then, after further evidence from me that I didn¡¯t intend on finding her, invited me to her home. It appeared that she lived nearby, in a nice, tall house in the middle of a bogland. I didn¡¯t know that the town or village of Bulrush, from which part of her title stemmed was nearby, but I accepted regardless, having no immediate plans and full of curiosity about how the witch lived.

    As we walked, I asked her about it ¡ª and you wouldn¡¯t believe what the answer was. Aurila, after finishing her apprenticeship, decided to follow the ?fairytale standard of female witchcraft¡± ¡ª as she called it, and built herself a home in the middle of a marsh, close to multiple middle-size villages and not so far from bigger towns. Ideal for the villagers to think twice before approaching her home, but still close and safe enough that if they need her services they will gather the courage. The city of Cambria is an additional perk, high-paying jobs and shops ideal for a witch are present there.

    Closing on the structure, I couldn¡¯t be more amazed at her dedication to the old reliable, fairytale standard. The house was wooden, tall and slightly off ¨C as if the building were about to break apart in coming moments, yet stood solidly despite the wet, soft ground. Just like the horrible houses of nightmare-inducing fairytales told all across the continent, as a warning and teaching.

    Nearby, below a large tree with a wide crown, there was a man in poorly-made clothing waiting for us, soaked and shaking. I couldn¡¯t guess though, if he was scared or cold.

    I stood some distance away when Aurila closed on the guest, an apple in her outstretched hand as a symbol of peace. He accepted and started to frantically talk to the witch as if regaining his humanity and courage, broken from the spell of silence. I couldn¡¯t hear that though, as Aurila blocked their conversation from the outside world, the only thing I could do was to observe.

    When the man stopped talking, Aurila took the lead ¨C and even though I couldn¡¯t see her face, I could tell she talked with unnerving calmness and confidence, presenting her price. From time to time, the man¡¯s face twisted in various emotions, ranging from regret and stupefaction to fear and shock. After each round of contortions, he would then reply back, clearly louder than he wanted to.

    After a while of such an exchange, the man finally agreed to something, nodding with a sombre expression, as if already regretting his decision. Aurila on the other hand, waved at me to follow her inside her abode.

    There, she led me to a balcony, from which the whole wet forest could be seen and went down again. Out of there, I saw her as she left the house with a small package, carefully covered in large leaves and bound by simple straps. When the poor villager received it, he handled it with utmost care, as if his life was on the line ¨C and maybe it was.

    She returned to the balcony a few minutes later, with a tray of sweets and a pot of tea. When I asked, she refused to answer about the man, nor did she tell me what was in that package. Eventually, I stopped asking, realising that no matter what I did, she wouldn¡¯t break the promise of secrecy she had with her customer.

    I changed the topic, asking her about life in the marshlands and the nearby villages¡¯ general state of affairs. I think she was starved of human interaction, as when not blocked by a promise, she talked with no end in sight. No wonder though, plebeians rarely have the balls to talk with one of us. Especially on such trivial matters. Before I left for the road again, she showed me her glass house, where she cultivates herbs and flowers ¨C more than I can remember.

    My second meeting with Aurila can be considered a friends meeting, even though we weren¡¯t exactly friends yet. But the last situation I want to tell you all about had a much different feeling, much different circumstances, and a far odder ending¡­

 Of Wizards and Witches [2]

    While the Wandering wizard talked, the Archmage¡¯s spell slowly wore off, giving space to small talk, rumours and speculations. Nearly everyone exchanged few words between their friends and companions, with exceptions being the Litch ¨C who had no one to talk to, and the Archmage ¨C who would never choose to gossip when he had the opportunity to listen to a story he had never heard before.

    ¡°You think his story will be better than the Litch¡¯s? That fucker certainly has something nice behind his bones, maybe he can even retell some of the ancient fairytales?¡± Ekta asked her sister, hushly. They were lying together on a big sofa, close to the Archmage¡¯s place, so, they had to be very quiet.

    ¡°Maybe? I guess, so far the Lich certainly has a high chance to top him. The Wizard is meticulous in his storytelling, but I would say that up to now, even our story is much better. I can¡¯t decide until he finishes though.¡± The Witch-Sister replied. When whispering, she turned around on the sofa, as her robe got tangled in an uncomfortable way.

    ¡°Hmm, I still regret that he didn¡¯t talk about his duel with the dragon¡­ Also, why did he never mention his sword? I thought he was good at handling it¡­¡± Ekta, the Knight-Sister, really hoped to hear about the famous duel of sword and sorcery ¨C and maybe, challenge the Wizard to one of their own. Without the sorcery part, of course. She looked at Sekta questioningly.

    ¡°You really think people like us bother to carry such a burdensome piece of metal around? Gaftel doesn''t need a sword to battle a whole squad, Ekta. He is a master Wizard, not some novice who needs a sharpened stick to fight in close quarters.¡± Sekta replied sharply, as if disgusted that her sister would even consider something like that. Her voice was much louder than before.

    ¡°What about you? You would sooner choose a nightclub over grimoires than beat a whole squad.¡± Ekta smirked.

    ¡°Pfft! That¡¯s because I am worrying about your safety dear sister. Powerful spells are too risky to cast in the presence of such a fragile lady like you.¡± Sekta laughed.

    Prodigy Twins no longer talked in their hush tone, and the Archmage noticed. ¡°Ekta, Sekta ¨C quiet.¡± He ordered, bringing their squabble to a sudden halt.

    <hr>

    In very late autumn, when the snow had already started to fall in some regions and the travellers on the roads became scarce, I got a job from Count Sardoix, a wealthy noble from the city of Harvoi to search for a rare plant, called ¡°Starfish Blue¡±.

    Putting aside the weird name, the flower, which is used in concoction of high-grade alchemical brews, is rumoured to be most commonly found in the highland meadows of Far-Garrad. A land mostly hostile to humans, ruled by the orcish warbands on the surface and dwarven fortresses below the ground.

    Far-Garrad rarely has any snow, and vegetation generally survives the winter between the hills, hidden from the deathly winds. That¡¯s why regardless of the coming winter, I agreed to the commission, believing that finding the flower would be a matter of a few barters with the local humans, and maybe a confrontation with an orkish warband freshly banished from their ex-settlement.

    Oh how wrong I was.

    First of all, the weather turned out to be much more aggressive than I thought. Despite the lack of snow and generally dry surroundings, the wind was aggressive and cold beyond reason. Poking a head from beyond the hills¡¯ even for a moment felt as if entering a deep dungeon connected to the Icy Hells. I moved only in the shadow of meadows, which while giving me the opportunity to search closer for the flower, rendered me blind to the dangers further away.

    Secondly, the ground was incredibly hard, as if it were a rock. At first, it was nice, a stable foothold for me and my horse, rarely slippery and never too squishy ¨C but soon I found out that it was a curse in disguise. Nice to walk, hard ground ¨C proved to be a formidable foe in any and every daily task, from getting the tent up to preparing the hole to get the fire going.

    At last, the meadows are incredibly barren, with nearly no wildlife in sight. Or rather, the life that prospers there is too small and elusive for me to find, most of the time. I had to be on the constant lookout for animals, else I would die of starvation. The only one happy was my horse, who had plenty of food around.

    When I arrived in Far-Garrad, I immediately headed for one of the few human settlements in the whole area ¨C Kaploristorti, a small fort surrounded by possibly only agricultural land I saw the whole time I was there.

    The people there were lovely and happily took me in for a few days. They rarely get travellers and take delight in stories similarly to the Archmage. There, I gathered as much information on the surrounding areas as I could, they even knew where the ¡°Starfish Blue¡± was found most commonly ¨C but for that information, I had to to pay. Fortunately, while I didn¡¯t have any of their local currency, they agreed to trade for a few minor enchantments.

    That¡¯s also when I heard them talking about another traveller, who asked for the same things a few weeks ago. They seemed concerned, as the woman hadn¡¯t returned yet, even though the place she went to had no way back other than through Kaploristorti. I didn''t pay much attention to that at the time though.

    If I am to be honest, I was ripped off ¨C but beggars aren¡¯t choosers, and I definitely didn¡¯t have many other options to pay them other than the enchants.

    Soon, I was once again on the road, or rather, between the hills. I headed for the best spot, according to locals ¨C a plain surrounding a deep canyon.

    Travel there was worse than when I was heading to Kaploristorti, as the hills slowly became smaller and smaller, till none remained. Then, the worst experience of my life started.

    Frosty wind, cold, hard ground and even scarcier of animals ¨C I had to hide behind my horse most of the time, just to walk. Safe to say, it was not comfortable. The plain around the canyon was massive, which didn¡¯t help at all, but at least, I saw the deep gash in the ground all the way from the hills. It was enticing, getting me motivated to go forward. the flower was supposed to be there, hidden in the crevices where the wind doesn¡¯t seep in.

    After two days of gruelling travel, surrounded by the faura of the steppe, I finally arrived next to the crack, spreading for hundreds of metres in length and tens in width. The crack was not lone though, as many assume, the canyon reaches hundreds of metres deep and like a web of cracks in a mirror, spreads in all directions.

    <hr>

    ¡°Sorry! But what does ¡®faura¡¯ mean?¡± Some mage in the back of the crowd asked, evidently confused by the enlightened naming sense of Gaftiel¡¯s.

    ¡°Fauna and flora, ¨C isn¡¯t that obvious?¡± Archmage Kairon replied instead of the storyteller, as if the answer was evident from the start.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    The curious mage looked at Gaftiel for confirmation, and seeing that the Wandering Wizard didn¡¯t raise any objections, he apologised in a weak and quiet voice: ¡°Sorry, but no¡­¡±

    <hr>

    The cracks on the outsides are always much shallower and get deeper as they near the web¡¯s centre, like the shores of the sea. That¡¯s where I entered, leaving my horse on the plain, where he had plenty of grass to munch on.

    Leaving my only companion behind, I have to admit I began to feel lonely, especially since the irrational fear of ¡°a big spider will come from behind that crack¡± kicked in, inside the webway of aforesaid cracks.

    The first day wasn¡¯t eventful, or rather, was boring. Nothing in particular happened, I walked, crawled and jumped between the cracks for more than ten hours, not finding even one ¡°Starfish Blue¡±. Even though I was essentially wasting time, I actually enjoyed it very much, you all should go there sometime and explore those spaces, it''s a very unique experience.

    The second day was the one where the adventure began.

    Leaving the horse once more alone on the surface, I immediately headed deep into the cracks as I already explored most of those closer to the surface. Only twenty minutes or so into the fissures, and I was already over 50 metres deep beneath the ground ¨C my fear of spiders got more apparent as the light was slowly drowned by deep shadows and the walls got closer to each other.

    Finally, about eighty metres down and two hours after leaving the camp, I spotted a flower ¨C very blue and very starfishy. That was the moment when I understood the biologist¡¯s naming sense, the plant really was resembling a blue starfish, weirdly placed on an unnaturally thin stalk.

    Slowly, I walked over, nearing the shelf on which the flower grew. I only needed to jump over a small crevice, and the plant would be within my reach. But then, the ground below me parted.

    I lost my footing, falling into a deep hole that materialised itself below where I stood before. It was narrow, roughly carved and had numerous sharp corners on which my clothes got hooked and torn, not to mention numerous cuts and bruises I obtained as I fell down the twisting corridor, deep into the underground.

    After a minute or two, of distressed attempts at slowing down, I finally stopped on the floor of a large cave, covered in moss and stinking of rotten flesh. I looked around, even before gathering myself, and noticed numerous bones scattered on the floor, some cracked ¨C mostly those which looked as if they were once legs ¨C some whole, as if but licked clean by a dog, pristine white and clean.

    <hr>

    ¡°They surely can¡¯t compare to mine!¡± The Lich shouted from the ceiling, flailing his arms and legs proudly ¨C and thus making the chains rumble against the rock ceiling like cruel drums. To be fair, no one present in the hall had ever seen bones as white and as well preserved over time as his.

    Archmage gave the boney-banshee a scornful look, then nodded at Gaftiel to return to his story.

    <hr>

    The cave I found myself in was clearly exploited by intelligent creatures, holds for torches and a clearly thought-out path through the cave led me to believe so. To see that though, I had to conjure a ball of fire, one of the most basic spells taught, useful to heat yourself up, or as in this case ¨C shower the surroundings in light.

    After taking a last glance around the room filled with bones ¨C by the way, none of them were humanoid, I think I forgot to mention that before ¨C I slowly walked to the carved corridor somewhere at the back, as it was the only way to leave that I noticed.

    I walked slowly in that narrow, damp, way ¨C looking ahead and ready to smash any adversaries with my staff ¨C which fortunately, survived the fall with minor scratches. The path led me through a few long but slim caves, covered in moss, stalactites and mushrooms which clung to all surfaces. Eventually, the way started to widen, slowly becoming part of a huge cave ¨C then transforming into the bottom of an unbelievably deep crevice. At that time, the need for the spell vanished, as the midday sun shone slightly from between the cracks above, faintly and barely, but still.

    The crevice connected to the cave perpendicularly, as such, I had two ways to go ¨C right and left. Two unknowns, hidden by twists and turns of the fissure, and both uninviting ¨C as the light from above didn¡¯t seem to reach there.

    I decided to go right.

    Soon, I had to summon the orb once again to ward off the darkness. But it unsettled me, as the crackling of fire seemed to hide noises from the deep ¨C screeches and sharp scratches. Haunting voices of monsters seeking solace in the night far below Far-Garrad.

    I turned around, truthfully ¨C I was scared.

    Weak from the fall, with torn clothes and numerous untreated cuts and bruises all around my body, I was not in a perfect state to face what may hide in the darkness. Not that I wanted to even know if those sounds were just some nightmares prepared for me by my paranoic imagination, or real sounds, torn from the throats of creatures that have a reason not to show themself in the light of the sun.

    On the way back to the sun-gazed crevice, I looked over my shoulders uncountable number of times ¨C even sending my source of light away from me and walking backwards at times. When I saw the sun again, I was relieved, as if that was enough to make me safe.

    I stopped by the path towards the bone-covered clave, before heading in the opposite direction than I came from, hoping that the light doesn''t abandon me once more.

    Fortunately, the gap widened as I went deeper, it was dark too ¨C but not dark-dark ¨C shady but still visible. There, the floor was much more polished, indicating that people walked through there often, and the walls had much less moss on them as if someone ripped it off from time to time.

    Deeper even, I walked next to a few tunnels similar to the one I came from originally, all with bone-filled caves on the end ¨C like where I fell. I¡¯d say the one in which I crashed was the biggest one, along with having the most bones of them all. It was also the only one with such a big corridor-cave leading to it.

    Leaving behind the bone caves, I continued down the tunnel ¨C until I saw a faint, reddish light in the distance.

    Slowly, I crept over ¨C with no spell as torchlight ¨C towards the unnatural light ahead. Near enough to hear the flame crack, I hid in the shadow of the tunnel, gazing at a bigger opening. The cave was nearly circular, probably twenty metres in diameter at most, from three-fourths surrounded by crevices such as the one I came from. The last quarter though, was occupied by a solid, stone brick wall, in which a monstrous iron door was placed. Monstrous, as in terrifying in sight, as the runes on it shone spookily ¨C it was small though, maybe reaching my shoulder in height.

    Next to the door, a humanoid curled into a fetal position with its back against the stone brick wall. Their head hung low, hidden under a big hood, as they stared ahead at the slim hand poking from the thick coat ¨C from which a small wisp of flame flickered ¨C magical.

    I decided to confront the stranger as soon as I saw them, they were in no less unfortunate situation, by what it looked like, but I couldn¡¯t let my guard down just yet. Fortunately, I still had my focus, while the mage curled against the wall seemed not to, casting form hands.

    I approached slowly, with my staff in an outstretched hand, ready to reflect some spell or rock the stranger might have thrown at me. When I was relatively near ¨C and the sitting mage hadn¡¯t yet raised their eyes up from the flame ¨C which as I think about it now, might have blinded them ¨C I softly struck the base of my staff on the stone ground, and with as stern of a voice I could muster, I said: ¡°Stay down, introduce yourself!¡±.

    Unfortunately, the mage didn¡¯t consider my words or haven¡¯t been able to discern their meaning. A small ball of liquid fire flung out of their hand, as they transformed the flame and threw it in a sling motion. As their hand was outstretched, I could finally realise if that was a Witch or a Wizard that I faced.

    I deflected the spell with my own ¨C force wave ¨C from the tip of my staff and sent it a few meters next to the slender-handed Witch. The woman was already on her feet, dashing in the opposite direction to where her deflected spell had fallen, but before she could muster the magic to attack me once again ¨C I retaliated with force of my own.

    Smashing the base of my staff against the stone, this time loudly ¨C I unleashed a wave of fire, that soon transformed into a cage of sorts. It blocked the Witch¡¯s way, then surrounded her on all sides apart from where the stone wall was.

    ¡°Stop! I am Gaftiel, a Wandering Wizard ¨C And I don¡¯t want to hurt you,¡± I shouted over the roaring flames. She managed to throw another fiery attack at me ¨C which didn¡¯t leave the cage ¨C before she heard my plea for a ceasefire.

    Soon after she heard that though, she quietly uttered my name, then lowered her hood ¨C And you won¡¯t believe who I found in the deep caves far below Far-Garrad, in cracks where sun-fearing evil may lurk ¨C it was She, Aurila of Bulrush.

 Of Wizards and Witches [3]

    While Gaftiel walked over to a table outside of the storytelling circle to get some drink, the hall gained some life, as quite a few people started to discuss the Wizard¡¯s story up to that point.

    ¡°Sir, what could be hiding in those depths? I only heard about a few monstrosities that fear the sunlight, and all of them would probably rather hide in castles and cities than stay in the caves¡­¡± Sqarie of Altarius, a Valiant Knight, asked his master.

    ¡°The oldest and most powerful of night creatures oftentimes avoid civilisation and stay hidden, even if that means staying deep in caves. It''s something about retiring to their rightful place, or not being able to stand the sight of creatures so weak ruling the world. Ancient cowards, I say.¡± Altarius responded, with his usual prideful demeanour. Despite sitting on a wide coach, he seemed to do so elegantly, to a suspicious level.

    ¡°That¡¯s myths and legends, Knight. Night creatures such as vampires long have none of their elders around, they either left our lands or were slain by the heroes of the past. And even if they still roamed these lands, Wizards such as Gaftiel would not stray from slaying such evil, which I bet is what he will do with his Witch companion later in the story. Though, I really doubt that the monsters will be of the old sort.¡± Sekta, the Witch-Sister interjected into the master-squaire conversation. Her and her sister¡¯s couch was very near to the one occupied by the Knight, and the chair on which his student sat.

    ¡°Not to question your intelligence, lass, but haven¡¯t you been under official tutelage only for two years? I can¡¯t stop myself from putting my knowledge above yours, seeing as inexperienced you are.¡± The knight replied sharply, staring into the girl¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Not to question your comprehension skills, knight, but have you ever had formal education in the field of magical history? I can¡¯t stop myself from trusting  myself more than you.¡± The Witch retorted. She looked at the knight with a clear scowl, as if mocking him and whatever knowledge he may have.

    Breaking the staredown between her sister and the knight, whose sword rested on the couch¡¯s back, Ekta laughed lightly and said: ¡°Ha ha, let¡¯s not jump at each other¡¯s throats, please¡­ Also, I have a better question ¨C mainly, how is he not freezing there in the deep? Every time I entered a cave, I needed to bring an additional coat, he didn¡¯t talk about that at all¡­¡±

    This time, both Sekta and Altarius turned in one direction, both amused by the question, an answer to which they both considered the obvious.

    ¡°Winter above, in Far-Garrad, is very cold ¨C which I believe Gaftel explained quite well. You probably think that the caves would be colder than the outside, but that¡¯s not necessarily the case. So much rock keeps the temperature somewhat consistent during the year, meaning that while it may be colder as well as hotter in there, than on the outside in winter, it¡¯s probably not a big difference. Also, no wind makes the cold much more comfortable.¡± Sekta explained to her sister, calmly and patiently, with a motherly attitude, as if she had done that hundreds of times before.

    Knight nodded, once again looking as if the answer was obvious. Ekta on the other hand, seeing that even the squire looked as if he knew that already, blushed and turned away from the previously arguing pair.

    Soon after, Gaftel returned with a mug full of wine in hand. The hall quieted, and waited in silence for the continuation of the story ¨C Archmage, in particular, could barely stay seated in anticipation. Ekta on the other hand, didn¡¯t even need to quiet down.

    <hr>

    Aurila started off by asking me why I was there, she was suspicious and I get that ¨C it¡¯s weird to meet in such a place. She calmed down a bit though, after I told her about the job I received from Count Sardoix. Apparently, searching for ¡°Starfish Blue¡± was a very non-suspicious reason, and she even admitted that searching for it was her reason to come to Far-Garrad too. She called it ¡°The biggest trend in alchemical circles since the discovery of blood-pressure-increasing properties of orc tusks¡±.

    The fire cage disappeared as soon as I stopped concentrating on it, Aurila then walked back to where she sat before and picked up some things that fell off of her while she dashed around the cave.

    One of the things that were left on the floor was an intricate twig-like tick, broken in the middle. I was right assuming she broke her focus. I asked her about it, and it seemed she cracked her wand while falling down the hole, into one of the bone-filled caves.

    She, unlike me, didn¡¯t get many bruises in the fall through ¨C the most pressing matter concerning her in the depths was food, as she was stuck there for about four days. Water wasn¡¯t that hard to get, but eating moss was not exactly the most desirable outcome.

    After hearing about her

    arrival at the caves, I asked her about the deep darkness and the door, which stood next to us. Aurila too, went to the dark depths previously, but she didn¡¯t go as far as I did and ran away much faster ¨C understandably so, her focus was broken after all. As for the door, she told me some dwarves came to these caves sometime after the traps activated ¨C for that were all these vertical tunnels that connected the outside world and the bone-filled caves ¨C and collected what was caught, leaving the unnecessary parts in the caverns.

    She met them once, sometime after she fell, they came and were horribly disappointed that their traps caught a human. ¨C Contrary to popular belief, despite their apprehension, they don¡¯t take pleasure in killing humans, nor do they eat us. ¨C As she said, they hoped for a hare or some other animal thriving above the fissures.

    What concerned me though, is the fact that she was still there, in the cave, despite having met the inhabitants of this place and talked to them. She told me they didn¡¯t even entertain the thought of letting her into their underground kingdom, even if only to find steps leading to the surface. They left here before the stone door, where she stayed since.

    I couldn¡¯t believe that, so, I decided that we would wait until the dwarves came to check the trap I activated, and asked her if she could take care of my wounds in the meantime. She agreed, of course.

    We spent some time in the circular cave, there, she told me about her journey here, which was very similar to mine, but lacking a horse ¨C for some, still not understood by me, reason. She also bragged about her progress in spell-crafting. Her spell, prepared for our upcoming confrontation during the next annual meeting, was already nearly finished at the time, according to her. Mine, on the other hand, was only a vague concept.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    After some time, we both tensed, hearing steps in the deep behind the stone-hugging door. Far beyond its defences, someone laughed out loud, in response to a joke said in the rough tongue of the dwarves.

    That was the time, when I realised that I knew only the basics of their language, barely scraping to pass on the tests. Even now, when I have looked into it more, I can barely communicate in common matters such as asking for directions and introducing myself. So, I had to ask Aurila to be my translator.

    Soon, the door flashed in dim, white light, and slowly started to open. It seemed the dwarves activated the enchantments, as I couldn¡¯t believe someone could move such a door ¨C as it opened, I could see it was at least one and a half metres thick. It must have weighed more than a tonne, or two.

    Two dwarves entered, both guys with long beards and hair reaching about the same length, with metal armour and axes in hand. Obviously, they were considerably smaller than me, maybe to around the middle of my torso? And let me tell you, they were not happy to see me.

    Even without knowing any dwarvish, I could discern that the series of clanky, rough sounds they let out of their mouths were all curses, most probably directed at me and Aurila. Before the Witch could talk, they turned to each other and exchanged a few words, afterwards, they stepped back towards the door.

    Aurila stopped them though, bringing their attention to her by stomping her foot on the stone ground and letting out a frustrated line of words, the meaning of which I obviously didn¡¯t understand.

    The two dwarves gave her a few moments of attention, before waving at as dismissively and hiding behind the door once again. The door was slammed shut, and were left alone.

    What happened next is not something that I like to bring up, as we both fell into some kind of depressed state in which none of us spoke. Neither did we think about what to do to get out of the predicament.

    In the meantime, my shallow wounds clotted, and the bruises stopped to burn.

    Slowly, as the light coming from the tunnels ¨C where the caves became ravines and reached the surface ¨C dimmed, we broke out of our stupor and considered our options.

    Aurila stayed there for the night before, and nothing happened, as such, we assumed that the creatures from the deep didn¡¯t want to attack humans, or couldn¡¯t cross into the dwarven passages. We could risk wandering into the darkness.

    We could also try to climb the stone walls of the fissure, but neither of us had any climbing experience outside of trees and the risk of falling down deterred us from that route effectively.

    Lastly, we could try to force our way through the dwarven territory. But breaking the stone door would have been a problem, and might have drained our reserves leaving us too tired to fight with the bearded rocks. It was not ideal in any way, and probably the least safe of the three.

    Eventually, we decided to go through the darkness. There were two of us this time, unlike when we ventured there alone.

    <hr>

    ¡°The walk to the surface was terrifying, and I still have nightmares about it to this day. As we ascended, we fought a few creatures ¨C as some of you speculated when I was getting a drink. But none of you managed to guess what we fought, and unfortunately, neither can I¡­

    The only thing I, and Aurila of Bulrush managed to determine about them is that those were Demons. Demons of unknown rank and type, whose images got erased from our memories shortly after we left the tunnels.¡± Gaftiel explained, his face almost white. Commonly, between words he took a sip from his mug as if to keep himself going.

    ¡°Demons you say? Are you sure? Why haven¡¯t I heard about them already?¡± The Archmage rose from his sofa, furious that such a thing was not reported to him.

    Gaftiel, while the whole hall remained silent, turned towards his senior ¨C and after some colour returned to his face, explained without any towards the Archmage: ¡°We decided to keep the information to ourselves until we were ready to launch an expedition to Far-Garrad. And now, we are ready.¡±

    The Wandering Wizard rose from his seat, and announced to the whole hall, but mostly to the mages and knights sitting around him: ¡°In two months, I, Gaftiel the Wandering Wizard, and Aurila of Bulrush will be organising an expedition to the caves below Far-Garrad! You are all invited, lest you stay under our leadership, just as any mage or warrior in the realm that hears the news!¡±

    Before the crow could answer, he followed up: ¡°Don¡¯t you dare to go there alone! We two are the only ones who have experience in the fissures, which are far more dangerous than what I portrayed in my story.¡± As he threatened, he parted his robes, showing a huge scar going from his right hip to his neck. Around it, burn marks and numerous smaller scars.

    ¡°Lad! Nice marking you got there! Fancy telling me if they reach the bones? That''s the exciting stuff!¡± The Lich shouted from above, his face ¨C despite lack of flesh ¨C clearly displayed his mocking excitement.

    ¡°Silence!¡± Kairon shouted mightily, once more closing the mouths of those who dared to gossip, and locking the air around the ceiling corpse. ¡°You, Corpse, shut your mouth till I allow you to speak.¡± He then turned towards Gaftiel ¡°Believe me when I tell you that I will, punish both you and your witch friend. You have failed to execute your duty and endangered the land with your irresponsible behaviour. I won¡¯t disband your expedition though ¨C but be sure, you two will not be the ones to lead it. I will.¡± Archmage Kairon finally stopped shouting and started to slow down his breathing. The hall was quiet, and even the standby¡¯s lowered their heads in a baffling display. A knight covered before the Archmage¡¯s rage, not to mention Gaftiel, whose previous confidence crumbled and flew out of the window.

    ¡°But, before I let the spell deceit whether your story was worthwhile, do tell ¨C did you win the competition against Miss Aurila?¡± Archamge¡¯s attitude did a 180-degree turn, from an embodiment of fury to a calm middle-aged man, who cared about nothing else than to satisfy his curiosity.

    ¡°I¡­ - I did¡­¡± Gaftiel responded weakly, before going back between the couches, to hide between other wizards and witches who listened to his story attentively just moments ago.

    Archmage nodded, content ¨C then closed his eyes and reached out before himself.

    The air rippled, invisible power spreading through the hall, enveloping each mind, each body, every piece of furniture and every piece of dust that fell from the chandeliers, hooked high above, next to an ageless corpse. The magic fizzled, as if about the tear a rip in reality before settling down, back to the invisible, incomprehensible state it waited in.

    Wizards, Witches, and every person at least bit sensitive to arcane grabbed their heads in pain ¨C apart from Archmage and his Disciple.

    Suddenly, another, short wave spread outwards of the Arch Wizard, and the tip of his hand started to glow green.

    ¡°The story has been confirmed as true.¡± Fierd the Apprentice announced.

    ¡°What about the ranking, was it good?¡± Some merchant, who felt not the effects of the spell, asked.

    ¡°That will be decided at the end. We must first hear all the other stories.¡± The Apprentice responded, before nodding at the next person to sit in the Storyteller¡¯s Chair.

 What Knight Values [1]

    Far to the north, lays the magnificent estate of Count Marfeld. A manor sits on top of a hill, surrounded by orchards and vineyards from all sides but one ¨C there, a small pond rests among the hills. Next to it, is a lovely bower along with a pier.

    That¡¯s where I spent the summer, a year after the eruption of Mt. Herdey. It was a slow, lazy time, as I had just recently returned from the crusade and my friend ¨C aforesaid Count Marfeld ¨C invited me to spend the time at his lovely estate.

    Unfortunately, that summer was the last time I was on friendly terms with the Count. Some uneducated swine say that we crossed swords, and won¡¯t talk to each other in the aftermath. Another version I heard, is that I seduced his wife ¨C I can¡¯t even imagine how such an abhorrent thought could cross people¡¯s minds. Mine version, the only true one, is that Marfeld got jealous of my allotment. Those things that I brought back from the crusade. And to be honest, I might admit that I could have flaunted the golds and silvers less ¨C but that does not justify the Count¡¯s reaction, who demanded that I share my hard-earned spoils, after promising my stay at his estate will be at his cost. None should covet the goods of others, even more, none should be jealous of what is not theirs.

    What happened or happened not, during that time, matters not though, as the story I want to tell started when I was heading out, back south ¨C to my lands ¨C forests and mountains of Laastrada. I was just leaving the vicinity of the vineyards, crossing a small river by a lovely, brick bridge, when I heard shouts from the road ahead.

    Someone called for help, and being a Valiant Knight such as myself, I had to intervene.

    I spurred my horse, urging the square who followed me at the time to stay just behind me and rushed towards the hill blocking my sight of the country road. The whole area was somehow similar to the one Gaftiel, The Wizard who told one of the stories before, described ¨C I think it was called Far-Garrad. But instead of icy winds, the lands near Count Marfeld¡¯s estate were submerged in a calm, gentle breeze that made the scorching heat of the sun bearable.

    Sorry, I have gone off-topic. A young boy ¨C as we realised soon ¨C was still shouting something incomprehensible when we arrived at the hill¡¯s top. He was standing before a short goblin, wielding a long stick with a sharpened end and trying to scare the monster away with aggressive moves and shouts. The green beast, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, slowly circling the boy with its heavy, roughly made knife in hand.

    I left my squire behind, urging my steed into a gallop and speeding down the hill. As I neared the boy and monster, I shouted for the boy to cover, and struck the beast with my sword.

    Obviously, the goblin was spit in half under the combined force of my strike and the horse¡¯s speed. Now, it fell flat on the ground, already lifeless when my squire caught up, and I turned towards the boy.

    ¡°What were you thinking, attacking a goblin by yourself?¡± I asked, trying to sound as calm as I could. Though, I doubt any of that effort paid off.

    The boy wept, tears falling from his eyes as he gazed at the lifeless, green corpse, before answering my question. ¡°I¡­ I wanted to avenge my sister..¡±

    He looked at me strangely, as if angry that I stole the kill from him. I don¡¯t understand kids to be honest, but then, I was confused even more than normal. So, I asked him: ¡°Why?¡±

    The kid fell down to the ground and started crying something about a raid and murderous goblins, and how his house was burned down and family killed ¨C what was interesting though, was that he had not seen his sister die. Only being taken by the beasts into the woods.

    <hr>

    ¡°Heartless bastard¡± Sekta muttered under her breath.

    ¡°How could he treat a child in such a way? Don¡¯t they teach them manners at those fancy noble schools?¡± Ekta joined in.

    ¡°They do, actually ¨C but not quite well it seems. Or at least, not in such matters. That doesn''t mean he can act this way and think he is excused, though¡± A man sitting behind them, on a chair next to sofa on which a woman ¨C deducing from the attire, a wealthy noble lady ¨C lied and listened to the story attentively.

    ¡°And who are you?¡± Sekta asked, irritated that some stranger butted into a sisterly conversation.

    The man lowered his head in apology, and introduced himself: ¡°My name is Tristan, a servant to my lady by choice, Thief and scumbag by fate.¡±

    ¡°And what can a thiefling-turned-servant know about noble education?¡± Ekta asked, seemingly interested in what he might say.

    ¡°I accompany my lady,¡± Here he turned towards his dame, and nodded at her in appreciation, ¡°Everywhere she goes ¨C as such, I have attended some classes meant for the blue-blooded myself.¡±

    The girls quieted down for a moment before both of them smiled slightly, and Sekta said: ¡°Really? Everywhere?¡± With a suggestive smirk.

    The servant didn¡¯t respond, only moving his head in embarrassment away from his Lady¡¯s sight, who just looked at him, amused, from her spot on the sofa.

    <hr>

    It appeared, that a nearby village was raided by monsters while I was preparing to depart from the Count¡¯s estate. The goblins came from the woods, murdered, burned and enslaved, then returned between the trees. The boy, who calmed down a bit while recalling the recent happenings, seemed really horrified by the raid ¨C and even then he went out of his way, into danger, to try to rescue his sister.

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I was moved by his bravery and valour, thus, I promised him to do everything in my power to bring her back.

    First, though, I had to get a lead, or at least, find the place where she and the goblins were seen last ¨C apart from the one I cut moments before. And indeed, I found the second thing with relative ease, considering that the boy I met was the one who saw as the goblins dragged his sister into the woods.

    He led me to the site, near a still-smouldering village, where men and women worked tirelessly to save anything they could. Soldiers and servants of the Count were already there, helping. Apparently, the messenger with the news arrived just a few minutes after I left the mansion.

    As we reached the tree line, I decided to leave my squire there. So he may help the villagers, and safekeep our baggage ¨C which I obviously couldn¡¯t carry while tracking a band of goblins through the woods.

    Fortunately ¨C or not ¨C the raiding party was of considerable size, so, they left obvious tracks in their wake. So obvious in fact, that I started to question the boy¡¯s intelligence ¨C why did he fight a lone goblin on some far-off hill instead of going after the one who took his sister?

    Anyway, the huge amount of tracks let me stay on top of my horse instead of going down, so I travelled quite fast and assumed I would reach the travelling goblins way before they returned to their camp. Or cave. Wherever they lived.

    And I did. Trotting through the forest, I reached a big clearing where I started to hear the cackles of goblins and screams of the women ¨C multiple, despite what I believed before. I sped up after leaving the trees, and when I had to enter between them again, I could clearly see the green heads in the distance.

    A small band, of maybe thirteen goblins was walking fast through the forest. Four of them in the middle, without weapons in hand, instead holding women ¨C two goblins per human. Eight walked in a loose circle formation around the captured. Those were dressed in shabby, fur armour and wielding various equally shabby weapons, ranging from short spears without even a head, to looted poorly maintained swords. The last one ¨C clearly the leader ¨C leading the whole flock. He was taller, had more complete armour and wielded an iron boarding axe.

    Normally, I would advise against attacking a group thirteen times larger, but I was on a horse and my enemies were already wounded and tired from raiding the village. So, I charged from the side, sword-drawn and visor closed.

    Primo.

    I cut a goblin in half, while my horse smashed his hooves into another¡¯s legs, incapacitating. From that overhead slash, I followed into another, cutting one goblin¡¯s throat in half and then burying my blade in the skull of its kin. Four away, nine to go.

    Quick turn, and my horse charged once again, towards the rest of the eight that surrounded the captives and their captors. The goblins screamed and charged at me with their crude weapons in hand.

    Secundo.

    My steed once again, buried its hooves in a monster, throwing me forward at the same time. In flight, I cut one deep into the shoulder at an angle, then landed, rolled and buried my blade into another¡¯s guts. Quick, sharp pull later, my blade swung in a crescent, beheading another of the green abominations.

    The goblins who held the girls screamed in fright, letting their captives go and running away from me, into the forest. My horse lost its fervour, without me in the saddle he wasn¡¯t as barve anymore. The biggest of the goblins charged at me with its boarding axe overhead and screaming something incomprehensible.

    Tertio.

    Before the beast managed to get close enough to strike, I moved. Dashing sideways next to the goblin, I nicked its side with the end of my blade ¨C keeping him at a safe distance. The beast stumbled, trying to hit me with its axe, but failing. I stepped forward, while the weapon was still down, and slashed from the opposite direction than before, cutting the head cleanly off.

    I looked around and saw the escaping goblins. The girls stayed together when they were let go. I, on the other hand, grabbed the reins jumped on the saddle, and hurried my horse in the direction of the goblin nearest me.

    After killing, or wounding the goblins heavily enough that they would definitely die on their own, I returned to the scared girls ¨C who despite being left alone for few minutes, still stood where I had last seen them.

    <hr>

    Hark, a Pirate Lord recently pardoned of his crimes, in exchange for becoming the crown¡¯s agent on the seas, stared forward with deep resentment, almost deep enough to feel it in the air.

    On the other side of the furniture-circle, laid an inconspicuous man, much different from a flamboyant pirate dressed in colourful, loose clothes and with jewellery scattered across the body, still tanned despite months locked between four stone walls. The man on the couch, across the room, wore an elegant suit, dark grey in colour and without any extraordinary marks. Wore no hat, and carried a fashionable walking cane ¨C Hark would bet his life that a blade was hidden in its shaft.

    His name was Inferir, bounty hunter, detective ¨C and most of all, a scumbag. At least according to Hark, who thought that the man was no different than him, nor any other pirate for that matter. He looked for gold, they searched for treasure. He hunted people, they hunted big fish. But mostly, they all were ready to do anything to survive, or,- just make their pouch a little bit heavier.

    Inferir, tactfully, didn¡¯t return the look. He avoided the pirate through the whole party, and after the King went to sleep and Archmage took the reins, nothing changed. Understandably, he was quite uncomfortable the whole time, but a royal invitation is a royal invitation, you just don¡¯t say no to it ¨C as long as you don¡¯t have your own army, that is.

    So, even though he didn¡¯t want to, he had to experience the whole ordeal of scornful looks from all around. Many people who he caught were present, but none were worthy of his attention, in his opinion.

    None of them were strong enough to not get caught. None of them were smart enough to use their skills on the border of the law, instead of outside of it. None of them had the balls to approach him during the party and confront their captor, even though some of them spent whole years behind bars because of him.

    Just a group of edgy, incompetent cowards. Even the pompous Knight was better, he at least, had some balls.

    <hr>

    The village, still burning and in shambles, was in better shape than when I left. The escapee cows and pigs returned to their enclosures. Chickens no longer run around letting out their horrible noise of theirs. And finally, the people ¨C were much calmer. They screamed and lamented less often, cried little, and worked in a more organized way.

    When we returned, I and the captured girls, the mob gathered around us, cheering and laughing as they hugged their lost wives, sisters and daughters.

    Not everyone¡¯s faces brightened though ¨C among them was the face of the boy, who I saved from being mauled by an angry goblin, and whose plight made me try to save the girls in the first place.

    He slowly walked over to me, and asked in a small, squeaky voice: ¡°Mister, what about my sister?¡± I remember that voice vividly, as the boy prompted me to dash into danger a second time in one day.

 What Knight Values [2]

    That moment feels awfully quiet in my memory, despite the racket of the surrounding me villagers.

    The realisation. The thought that I might have left someone behind in some bushes, bloodied, bruised, scared and hopeless. Possibly dead. Thoughtlessly, in an act of bravery, I turned my horse around and rushed him into a gallop towards the woods once again.

    At first, I wandered.

    A few hours of aimless ride through the woods, turning sharply every few hundred metres and looking behind each and every bush. I scouted the whole edge of the forest, long past the boundary where the village could be even barely seen on the horizon. Wildlife stirred, deers ran from me at first sight, rabbits and hares jumped in their holes, boars stood fearlessly, and finally a bear ¨C from whom it was I who fled. No point in fighting such a ferocious giant.

    Through my wander, I calmed down on the thought of failure and managed to focus on my task. Thus noticing that despite the abundance of game in the forest, there were no wolves. Well, that might have been a reason for the plethora of animals wandering about unperturbed, but I had a feeling deep in my gut.

    That something wasn¡¯t right with the woods.

    If the Count managed to exterminate the local wolf population, he would have surely boasted about it at least once or ten times during the months I spent in the estate. There was no question about it.

    If something else, hunted them down, Marfeld would have been quiet about it neither. Last, the third normal option I would think of, was that the wolves didn¡¯t have who to hunt. But both the state of the forest and the wolf-untouched village denounced that possibility.

    My gut feeling came around the corner once more, and told me, that both the goblin raid and the disappearance of wolves were caused by one, very unnatural, possibly magical in type, factor. And the lost girl, who by all means should have been saved by me a few hours before, along with her fellow village women, had to be entangled with that factor in some way.

    Thus, I resumed my search with newfound passion ¨Cinstead of on the wood¡¯s edges, deeper and deeper as I went.

    The forest darkened, shadows grew and animals quieted as I moved further from the tree line. Despite the early afternoon, the nocturnal creatures were awake. An owl flew near me, so soundlessly that I wouldn¡¯t notice it if it didn¡¯t show its white feathers in the dim sunlight right before my face, then disappeared among the grasses, bushes and trunks. Few foxes stalked creatures they hoped to outfox, despite the sun still shining above the canopy of trees. Even bats woke up and chased after beetles, or sat on some lonely fruit.

    Sometime in the evening, or earlier as my perception of time was skewed by the unnatural darkening of the world, I saw a lonely tower sticking from between the trees.

    At the time, I was riding through a large clearing, with a few old tree stumps and even remains of a camp. Few burnt logs and a circle of stones, an abandoned campfire. From there, I looked north and saw the pointy roof of a wooden tower, weird, as the wood the structure was made from didn¡¯t look like it was from trees that grew in the proximity.

    Slowly, as I approached the tower, I started to hear noises uncommon for the forest. The same ones I heard this morning ¨C whimpers and croaks of the goblin¡¯s crude speech.

    It was not as loud as nearby the village, but much less restrained ¨C which meant that there were fewer of them there than in the raid party. Or rather, they were a lesser, faster fraction of the raiders who fled to their suspicious-looking hideout with the trophies much earlier than the rest. Somehow, the boy¡¯s sister had to get lost after all.

    When I was near enough to see the goblins in detail, I jumped off my saddle and let my horse loose. Adrianna craves blood sometimes, she really likes to help me when I deal with those who deserve the kiss of my blade. And to be honest, the mare is much more efficient and ruthless when I am not on her. She sometimes even gets more blood on her hooves than I do on my fists and weapons. A pity she couldn¡¯t come to the hall today, what a party would it be¡­

    <hr>

    ¡°Did he really just say that he would like to drink with his mare? That''s some fucked up behaviour, can horses even digest alcohol?¡± Sekta commented towards his conversation partners: Ekta and the servant boy Tristan.

    ¡°I heard of some noble from around these parts who dabbles in alchemy a bit. Apparently, he tried to get a horse drunk, and let''s just say, it wasn¡¯t easy ¨C so, it probably would do nothing.¡± Tristan answered quietly, from behind them.

    ¡°When you say, ¡®it wasn¡¯t easy¡¯, what exactly do you mean by it?¡± Sekta couldn¡¯t hold her curiosity ¨C stereotypical for the mages at this point ¨C in reigns.

    The boy looked at her with some discomfort before elaborating: ¡°It¡¯s said he had to make the horse drink half a barrel of beer, or even more before it started to look drunk.¡±

    ¡°So, the horse would be fine? I doubt animals in their weight class would drink so much in a day, not to mention a timeframe in which the whole contents affect them at the same time¡­¡± Ekta questioned. As always, Knight-Sister acted all high and honest, giving everyone even chance. No one would bat an eye if she challenged a devilspawn into an honourable duel, instead of charging at it with pikes from all sides.

    ¡°I guess so? I don¡¯t think we can have a definitive answer unless we get a horse drunk ourselves, or find some respectable source, not some dubious roumours and gossip exchanged between the cooks.¡± Tristan seemed to align with Ekta¡¯s stance.

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°Wow, well¡­ either way Altarius is an asshole and basta!¡± Sekta decided, then turned away from the young servant. How dare the two of them find reason in her allegations? What has become of this world,  can a girl gossip and complain no more?

    Maybe, it would be actually better to let the Litch leave? There would be plenty to talk about, at least.

    <hr>

    I dealt with the rabble of a force easily, if you even could name a loose group of poorly equipped goblins a force. I bet that if I trained that boy from before for a month or two, given him a good sword and some armour, he would take the group himself. The whole raid was a success only because of the element of surprise and numerical advantage, in my opinion.

    Not that even those factors changed the outcome much. The most valuable commodity ¨C life ¨C was lost mostly on the greenskins¡¯ side, whose bodies burned in the fires. Not to mention about twenty of them who I killed between the village and the tower. Be it in the forest, or below the suspicious structure.

    Surrounding the tower, were dozens of pikes embedded straight into the earth. On top of them, wolf skulls were hanging. Some distance closer, were pens with a few cows, pigs and chickens, who raised a huge commotion while I was dealing with the mob.

    I neared the doorway and entered the tower.

    Before me, there were two ways. One up, one down. After a moment of deliberation, I decided to go up first, and then see what lies below.

    The stairs hugged one of the four tower¡¯s walls and led me to a room fitted like a kitchen. The first floor was empty, but there was some basic cutlery and unfinished food on the table. Still relatively hot. The fire under the stove wasn¡¯t put down either.

    I went to the next floor.

    There, few large beds stood. Very basic and crude, something goblins would make in a feeble attempt to copy human lifestyle. That place was even emptier, as no signs of recent activity remained.

    The next floor didn¡¯t offer the luxury of stairs, instead, there was a ladder perched in the corner of the goblins¡¯ sleeping chamber that led to a hole in the roof. I have to admit, that climbing up into an unknown room, with no way to say if there was someone there was quite scary. But I put my visor down, tightened the straps of my armour and went up.

    Fortunately, no one hit me with a club as I poked out from the hole ¨C but just as I did that, some muffled voice reached me from behind.

    There, two women were tied to a supporting wooden pillar. They looked at me with hope in their eyes, every now and then glancing towards their wrists, bound from behind. Soon, their gags were on the floors and the ropes cut ¨C and the first thing they said shocked me.

    It wasn¡¯t ¡®thank you¡¯, or even curses at the captors ¨C the first thing they said, unanimously, was ¡®he hid in the basement¡¯.

    So, as any capable knight would, I rushed down the tower. But before I could reach the stairs leading underground, I saw something that turned the blood in my veins ice-cold.

    A middle-aged man, in black, torn clothes and with a large stick in hand, was just getting onto my mare¡¯s saddle as I passed the tower¡¯s doorway. Disregarding the basement, I ran outside in a rush, shouting at Adrianna to come to my side.

    The man cursed loudly ¨C horribly so that I will not repeat what got out of that mouth of his ¨C and fell off Adrianna as she turned sharply towards me. Obediently, as soon as the man was on the ground, she went towards me, disregarding her instinct to cave in his skull with a mighty kick.

    Before she could turn around and attack him along with me, I ordered her to stay away ¨C I had a bad feeling about the man. Who would be able to order around nearly thirty goblins? Certainly not some common shepherd, so, the chance that the man¡¯s stick was a shepherd¡¯s staff was very slim. More likely, a wizard¡¯s focus.

    And I was right, as soon as he stood up, he swung his stick in a wide arc ¨C throwing a ball of fire in my way. I stepped to the side, narrowly dodging the projectile, then dashed at the wizard with my sword in hand, ready to strike.

    Before I could reach him though, he first threw another fireball at me, then, after I dodged once again, smashed a force wave into me. I flew through the air, stopping a few metres further between the bushes.

    The mage didn¡¯t relent, he charged at me with the staff in hand, casting fiery projectiles all the way from where he fell off Adrianna to the bush I stood up from. Of course, I either dodged or redirected the projectiles before they could burn me, but I have to admit that the offensive was a good move on the wizard¡¯s side ¨C I barely managed to stand up and block as he brought the staff, encased in fire, upon my head.

    We wrestled for a moment before I overpowered him and kicked him in the guts, throwing him into a tree. The mage struck the wood heavily, air escaped his lungs and his head banged with an audible crack. Blood started to spill from the back of his head.

    A horrendous scream escaped his mouth, horrifying and mindnumbing. I couldn¡¯t hear anything for minutes afterwards. When the last bits of air flew into the ether, the man clutched his belly and fell onto the ground with his knees next to his head.

    I stood there, rooted to the ground for some reason, as light bent around the figure. He blended, squashed, mixed and whatever that magic mindfuckery was, until there was no man, no wizard.

    Only a snail.

    Snail covered in loose human clothing, holding a staff with one of its antennas. The back of its slimy head was covered in blue liquid ¨C presumably it¡¯s blood.

    I awoke from my stupor, and with a swift horizontal slash, cut off the musky head, before its nasty brain could conjure another projectile.

    And thus, I fulfilled my obligation as a Knight, bringing peace to the realm once more.

    <hr>

    As the Archmage¡¯s hand started to glow green, the headache slowly faded away and the memory of the spell¡¯s usage his behind the story told mere moments ago.

    ¡°So, that¡¯s my story. Did you like it?¡± Altarius asked the audience, somehow proud of his storytelling. For his aching head, he used a common cure ¨C a pitcher of beer, straight from the castle¡¯s cellar.

    ¡°The last dog I petted would have done a better job. Shitty and predictable, really, how did you manage to have so an un-original adventure?¡± The Litch laughed, his manner of speech evolved once again, and he appeared more eloquent each time he opened his jaws.

    The Archmage once then there a spell on the ceiling bones, not even commenting the Litch¡¯s rude behaviour.

    ¡°I think it was fine. Though, if I may be honest, the first story we heard would rank higher in my opinion. The rest of them though, would fall short of your adventure, Sir.¡± Inferir, The Bountyhunter expressed his opinion. From his manner of speech and body language, I was clear he held The Knight in high regard.

    ¡°Thank you, good sir!¡± Altarius beamed with a smile.

    As the warrior walked back to his previous seat, Sekta couldn¡¯t keep herself from commenting: ¡°It was fine, I guess. But it will be a fucking miracle if our story ranks lower.¡± She glanced between Tristan and Ekta as if boasting to the boy about the adventure they were about the tell about ¨C but it was clear, she knew that her voice was heard in the whole hall.

    Had a spell not bound the sound around the undead competitor, the rattle of his bones would be the only response to the young witch¡¯s bold claim.

 Pains of Piratehood [1]

    It was a long, quiet night. Owls hooted and screeched in the distant forest, outside of the port city¡¯s walls, accompanied by the wolves who howled towards the clear moon, hanging in the sky above the dark, vast expanse of the sea.

    It was calm, quiet and reassuring ¨C until it was not.

    From the mountain cliffs and forests, where the wolves and owls sang just moments before, bombards and canons rang like drums of war, overpowering every other sound, driving our ears to madness and clouding our thoughts. By then, everyone was awake. Both those resting in the ships tied to piers on the shore and those sleeping peacefully in their comfy beds, surrounded by the brick walls of the tenement houses. Women screamed, children cried, and men ¨C quieted down in fear.

    Me and my officers, were already long awake ¨C in a fortunate twist of fate, just preparing to abandon the port city and venture into the sea under the cloak of the night. The underdeck lowlifes and the actual crew too, of course. The first ones were long cuffed to the rows, while the latter prepared the top deck, sails and hawsers.

    While the townspeople, guards other shipmen and merchants rushed to the battlements ¨C already crushed by the overpowering strength of the cannonballs and explosives ¨C we hastened our departure, fortunately not blocked by a sea-chain. I always check if a port I am about to visit has one, those are always tricky to live around, especially when a night attack like that one might happen at any moment.

    Our ship slowly tore from the wooden pier, moving the masses of water, undisturbed until then. The underdeck wretches pulled on the oars with all their might, forcing my will on the wooden planks clashing with the waves, until the ship started to swim, with grace and dread, as the metal-coated oar blades struck the water in a steady, practised, rhythm.

    As we slowly moved towards the strait acting as the gateway to the port city, the sounds of battle only grew. Bombards and cannons didn¡¯t stop their unrelenting assault, toppling buildings as if they were made out of loose, rope-tied, rocks. To the cascade of booms, smaller cracks of personal rifles and black powder pistols joined, accompanied by ominous sizzles and horrifying flashes of light, much stronger than anything that had shaken the earth before. Local Wizard had joined the fight.

    No one rushed after us, as would be expected when leaving a port unannounced, some only took a quick, resentful glance in our direction before rushing to the battlements, leaving us to our own things.

    Finally, a huge cannonball struck the lighthouse, located on the outskirts of the city, high enough to shine above the hills on either side of the strait. The projectile flew through, losing much of its power, and the tower fell with a deafening rumble. If I were on stable ground at the time, I am sure I would have felt that crash through my feet.

    As the stones fell, I turned around, looking at the attacked city no more. Just then, our ship was about to enter the strait and emerge onto the open waters of the sea, slumbered in darkness.

    But as the prow left the bay, the man on the lookout started to shout. A ship was stationed outside, sideways to the entrance, with cannons bare and lights onboard aflame. Someone was waiting for those like us ¨C escapees.

    They fired as soon as Marietta emerged fully from between the rocks, all cannons at once, shaking the wooden structure of their galleon. Marietta, being a much smaller galley, had no chance in direct confrontation, at least in one where the cannons roared. So, I¡¯ve given the only sensible order I could think of.

    Oarsmen ¨C full power, helmsman ¨C course for the enemy vessel.

    The rows could be heard all the way on the bridge, as the wood once more clashed with the waves mightfully. Well-fed, the lowlifes proved their strength as the galley visibly increased in speed.

    But before we were able to turn towards the galleon, and start our near-suicidal charge, the cannonballs reached our deck. Not all, in fact, barely any of those fired from the enemy vessel hit the target, mainly being overshot or undershot. But still, the projectiles carved their way through the walls, creating two gaping holes in the hull, through which the sea stormed in, as the waves crashed into Marietta. There were some other losses, one man was caught in the cannonball¡¯s way ¨C it''s safe to say he died immediately ¨C and one or two chairs or other furniture met their ends against the enemy volley.

    Fortune smiled our way, and our enemies didn¡¯t have enough time to shoot another time before our bow ram tore into their ship¡¯s lining. Marietta punched through the wood, and with a deafening screech embedded herself into the galleon. The oarsmen stopped pulling on their rows, as the ship could no longer move without moving the enemy galleon.

    My sailors, thoughtful as always, threw themself into the fervour of battle right off the bat, not even considering escape or surrender, all of them ¨C apart from those who could not leave their position ¨C rushed to the helm with their sabres unsheathed and crossbows bolted.

    My officers and I moved too, though much slower and more thoughtful. The enemies had the upper hand especially now, that the hole was the point of friction. It would be stupid of us to rush to such a narrow breaking point, especially when others ran so madly there. Soon though, those few marines who blocked the hole in the hull, fell and our sailors stepped onboard the galleon by stepping on their corpses.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Men manning the cannons, unprepared for such abrupt boarding, fell one by one until the whole lower deck was full of corpses. Some of them ours, most theirs. But it wasn¡¯t the end of the battle, only one deck fell and the ship was still bustling with life. What¡¯s more, we would have to get off soon, slashing through people, cutting arteries and dismembering was fun and all, but the two ships conjoined, slowly drifted towards rocks near the shore.

    I ordered the retreat, but not before setting fire to the wooden hull and taking two cannons with us on Marietta. We had a few of our own, but not as big and powerful as theirs, especially on Marietta, who while agile and swift, isn¡¯t the heaviest-hitting vessel in my fleet. As we retreated, the marines onboard pushed us out at the same time, while also letting volleys and volleys of arrows and bolts rain onto Matitta¡¯s deck, where few of my men remained, and had to hide from the ranged onslaught.

    Just before ordering the oarsmen to push us out of the enemy vessel, my trusted officer, Jarve, came up with a devious plan. Hidden behind faw last of us who were on the galleon, he found a keg of black powder, highly flammable and explosive, which he then lit aflame and threw into the angry mob of sailors, who pushed us out of the ship.

    I can¡¯t stress how weird it is that he was the only one who thought of that.

    The galleon shook mightily from the explosion, fire roared and escaped through the windows before settling on the wooden structure. The blast, which rattled the vessel, proved to be of much help in getting Marietta¡¯s ram out of the enemy ship. Oarsmen had a hard job to do and did it wonderfully, but it was the blast that broke the dam and separated the vessels in the end.

    Few of our comrades remained with the enemy, as their ship was slowly turning to cinders, or rather, their lifeless corpses. The rest of us escaped with a wide range of injuries, but alive, sailing with the full power of the lowlifes below the deck and the wind roaring above us. As far as we could from the ship burning in the distance, and the roaring city, slowly falling apart to the rhythm of the bombards.

    <hr>

    ¡°That corpse creeps me out, did you notice how it looks at us?¡± Ekta asked her sister quietly, keeping her mouth close to Sekta¡¯s ear and looking towards the ceiling furtively.

    ¡°No? I didn¡¯t notice anything, should pay more attention to him?¡± the wizard of a sister answered, perplexed. She stole a glance at the corpse but remained in thought, the Lich seemed normal to her, as normal as a living corpse that happens to be hanging from the ceiling can be.

    ¡°Exactly! Shouldn''t he act more¡­ suspicious? If I understand correctly, it¡¯s the first time he speaks with the living in at least¡­ 300? 400 years? Yet, apart from his constantly evolving way of speaking, he acts as if he was just a normal guest here, slightly introverted and whatnot, but if he had skin and sat among us, I wouldn¡¯t be able to recognise him¡­ And that creeps me out.¡±  Ekta explained slowly, moving closer and closer to her sister as if seeping comfort.

    Sekta moved away from her, then replied in the same, hush tone. ¡°You are overreacting Ekta. You have to remember that he too, was a human a long time ago, and can¡¯t expect that he would act differently than us like if he was some ogre or goblin. Even if, people as old as him learn many things and acting isn''t that rare of a skill.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ A Lich¡­ In fairytales, they always are so¡­ unique. And you always tell me that fairytales are true stories most of the time, old and maybe a bit skewed, but real...¡± Ekta seemed depressed as if the reaction broke something in her. A dream perhaps, or maybe naivety remaining from her juvenile years.

    ¡°I don¡¯t say they don¡¯t, it¡¯s just that these stories tell of liches in solidarity, surrounded by their undead in their damp crypts and catacombs, not a lich bound to the ceiling of a lively hall. The guy up there hears people talk every day, hell, he is probably one of the greatest sources of rumours and gossip in this castle. we just have to account for such things when evaluating people, else the situation with that boy repeats itself. And we wouldn¡¯t want that, would we?¡± Sekta instructed. She, as the more educated and enlightened of the sisters, always held the leading position. It isn¡¯t that she lords over her sister though, they consider themself equal.

    ¡°No¡­ we wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±

    <hr>

    Two weeks, that¡¯s how long it took us to escape the consequences of the battle and join the rest of my fleet ¨C stationed around the Fasmaris Islands, where one of our hideouts once was.

    The islands, four of them to be exact, act as a natural fortress, defending the ships hidden between them from bad weather and enemy vessels alike. Before we took them, they were in the hands of a smuggling group that poured gargantuan amounts of gold into expansion of the local garrison ¡ª turning the islands into a massive fort.

    Each island housed a tower surrounded by a stone courtyard, a few barracks and other, bigger buildings and finally a tall wall. All the outposts were connected in some way. From the north and south, there were bridges that connected the fortifications, making each pair into one, bigger bastion. From west and east though, where the waters were deep enough to traverse and cross with a ship ¡ª leading to the open, inviting beaches between the islands, so different from cliffs that bare their teeth towards the hostile sea ¡ª massive chains bound together the islands. Those monstrous pieces of metal acted as a perfect gateway ¡ª if lowered, ships could cross freely, if raised, not even the greatest galleon would survive the clash.

    We spent there two months, waiting for the seas to calm down after the port-city¡¯s raid and ruin. The battle you see, shook the waves a little too much, making each and every respected pirate, smuggler and fugitive hide in their holes, away from the sunlight. My fleet, despite its power and formidability, hid too ¡ª even though we were able to voyage the seas freely, it would only cause us harm. Think, what would people think if they got to know that the only Pirate Lord who managed to escape the city, paraded among the waves with no worry?

    People would say it was us who staged the raid, who hired mercenaries and bought bombards. No one would listen to our side of the story, in fact, even those in the know would shut their trap, after all, if the whole marine world turned against me, and wrestled my treasures and wealth from my hands, who would like to be the only ones not eligible for a cut?

    But, as it turned out later, staying cut off from the world for whole two months might not have been the best idea.