《Dungeon Cores for Sale!》 Chapter 1: Graduation Chapter 1: Graduation I stop at the end of the bridge, knowing that this is the last time I will cross it¡­ I look back at the college, the building''s surreal architecture bending the light at odd angles as the randomly connected towers loom in the gently cloudy sky. I feel at the Sages pin, my pin, reminding myself that it is real¡­ that I graduated¡­ The large copper circlet is the sigil of my new office, proclaiming me a Sage to any who see it. I coo at intricately wrought copper scales, the eyes made from obsidian flakes¡­ I trace the circular shape of the badge with my finger, finding the point where the dragon begins eating its own tail¡­ a symbol of the cycles, and of my new life. With a heartfelt sigh which releases years of pent up stress and expectations, I let go of all the fun and wonder, all the bonds and heartache, and embrace the knowledge that I am leaving this place a better man. Finally, I turn away from the college, my new grey traveling cloak flowing in the wind, and head to the market. I follow the wide winding road which follows along the river which separates the college from the heart of Endymion city. The streets around me buzz with life and death, wagons creak under the weight of goods, shopkeepers shout over each other about their wares, beggars and wounded soldiers slump against walls and in dark alleys. I watch this all with fresh eyes, those of a trained sage, I smile as street urchins dash by me, one bumps into me, finding nothing in my pocket, their laughter echoing off the high stone walls as they scamper away. I shake my head at their courage, and keep moving, knowing that this is the last chance for any quality gear before heading out into the countryside. The closer I get to the market, the more overwhelming it becomes compared to the silent study halls I have been used to for the last four years and when I reach the bazaar, the noise becomes deafening, too loud even to hear the various myn from all over the kingdom calling out, trying to grab my and others attention all while doing their haggling best. The smell of spices, vendor offerings, and animal filth all commingle into a scent which is so complex and layered it very well might be one step away from sentience. Good gods this smell! It reminds me of my time with the King¡¯s Auxiliaries¡­ but then I chuckle and wonder if I''ll ever think back on this smell with fondness? I pass by a crier standing on a crate near the edge of the market, they are shouting about unrest in the north, ¡°Following the loss at Coggeshall Valley deserter bands have been seen across the countryside! The King¡¯s Guardian force is stretched thin! Beware the roads!¡± His words carry over the noise, drawing dark looks and murmurs from the crowd. I can¡¯t help but notice that most of those around me have patched cloaks and visible blades, wary stances and tired eyes, all signs of the trouble they had faced. Deserters huh¡­ not that I don¡¯t sympathize, I got out as soon as I could after all. It didn¡¯t take long after that to find the best of the homesteading supply stalls which I had scouted out a few weeks before I graduated. The college provides its graduates with a stipend to purchase anything they might need for their assignments, but because everything had been provided for me at the college, and even in the military all the supplies I needed were issued to me, my combined life experiences left me terrible at haggling and with no knowledge of proper pricing. However, I was a pretty good judge of character, and so I figured I could wing it. In the end I used the ol¡¯ ¡®go with your gut¡¯ theory and picked the most interesting looking merchant, that being an old Turtlemyn sporting a large crack in his shell. As I approach him, I note that the crack had been patched up with a silvery metal that had later been engraved with flowing runes in a language I associated with the southern sailing tribes. The Turtlemyn eyes me as I enter his area while leaning on a gnarled and sturdy staff. Now that I am this close I get to take a closer look at what really attracted me though, he is selling his goods off of shelves which are carved into the side of his cart, itself being a gigantic sea monster''s shell on wheels. A few large lobster creatures, which were harnessed for travel, clicked and clattered around the side of the cart where they were tied. The Turtlemyn nods to me when I am done ogling at the shelving, then raises his brow as he takes note of my pin. ¡°Oh!¡± His speech pattern is slow and deliberate, ¡°A new Sage graces the world.¡± He reaches his old paw out to me, ¡°I have discounted prices special for new graduates, to make sure you leave with your best foot forward!¡± He gives me a very slow wink. I grin and shake the old snappers hand, ¡°I thank you honored elder, I could certainly use the help.¡± I lean in conspiratorially, ¡°I¡¯m garbage at handling money.¡± I wink back at him. The old one chuckles, sounding like a bass drum hiccupping, and he pulls me towards his goods showing off the various tools that someone (me) starting a new life in a small town might need, as well as those that someone (me) who would be going on a decently long journey to get there might find handy. All the time though, instead of letting me stop and consider, he gently guides me onward, always saying that I should view all his stock before making a decision. At last the merchant arrives at the most well lit, best decorated shelf space whose goods are all covered in a heavy cloth. These shelves had been carved to depict a pack of¡­ large mountains? Migrating across a rough ocean, huge beats in the water seem to both threaten and swim with the mountain folk. The old shell looks at me with genuine excitement, ¡°These young man,¡± I chuckle at the compliment, ¡°Are the future!¡± With a sweep of his heavy arm he removes the cloth and reveals an eclectic collection of strange looking gemstones, each their own color, size, and cut. They shimmer with an otherworldly light that seems erratic at first, but swiftly all begin to pulse in time with my heartbeat. The gems are each arranged more or less in categories of small, medium, and large. The smaller gems hum softly, their energy steady but faint, while the medium and larger ones radiate chaotic bursts of color and movement, as if alive, or impatient. I reach my hand out, but the merchant coughs loudly, ¡°Before you touch one, you must know that there is a cost to the connection¡­ and they can sense you right now.¡± I jerk my arm back, he nods and goes on, ¡°Making contact in this context is similar to forming a spiritual bond.¡± I blink at that, and with wonder in my voice, I whisper, ¡°What are they?¡± The old merchant grins, slipping easily into his pitch, ¡°Dungeon Cores!¡± The Turtlemyn¡¯s voice rises, rich with pride, ¡°Once the treasure of nobles or the spoils of daring adventurers, these marvels have been tamed and domesticated through breakthroughs in core magics! Now, anyone with enough patience and wit can wield their power!¡± The Turtlemyn gestures at the crystals, ¡°Each one of these beauties is able to absorb life essence itself, it takes and transforms that energy into anything you have previously fed to it! Craft the perfect item? Your favorite tool break? Feed it to the core, then, by making the appropriate offering, and see it replicated before your eyes!¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The merchant really hits his stride, losing all sense of old age as he fills with excitement, ¡°You see, within these beautiful little gems lies the soul of a monster, the larger and more complex the gem, the greater the intellect and complexity of the soul within, and thus the easier time you will have teaching it.¡± The merchant chuckles, ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do to put a chicken in charge of defending your homestead now would it?¡± I laugh, but I am entranced by the swirling chaos of these cores, ¡°A dungeon core huh¡­¡± I think back to the dungeon my unit stumbled across back when I was still in the Aux... The wounded that came out of there were horrific, many of them dying from strange poisons before I could tend to them¡­ ¡°I am no great mage, nor a wealthy man¡­ how could I get something powerful enough to be useful and yet keep it from, well, killing me?¡± The turtle taps his nose twice, ¡°A wise question young Sage, and the answer lies in the binding process that has made this possible for people like you and me.¡± He leans in, and pulls a scroll off the shelf, waving it while speaking in a hushed tone, ¡°There is a ritual you must perform,¡± he taps the scroll tip to his palm, ¡°A little blood and the right words, and you will form a pact with the creature inside the core which binds it to your will.¡± He looks at me knowingly, ¡°Now, this will not strip the creature of its mind, but it will compel it to obey your commands.¡± The merchant looks sternly, ¡°This is enough for a start, but it will then be up to you to form a relationship with your core.¡± The Turtlemyn looks me in the eyes, ¡°A willing core is infinitely more valuable than a slave.¡± I nod, my mind totally lost in a future of: me, my pet dungeon, and any food or tool I want on demand at any time¡­ I may have started to drool. The merchant chuckles again, ¡°Now¡­ I don¡¯t mean to pry, but I do know how much the college gives to its graduates for their travel expenses.¡± I look sheepish, he winks and continues, ¡°I don¡¯t believe that the smaller gems would suffice for someone like you, and the larger ones are out of your reach but¡­¡± That lingering possibility makes me burn with hope, the turtlemyn continues, ¡°There was a strange creature who attacked my family as they docked to deliver these cores.¡± The turtle points to a bizarrely cut, deep azure gem, the angles bizarre and seem to follow no pattern I can make out. Inside the gemstone is a swirling chaotic purple haze which pulls at my attention. The light within seems to be probing the edges of its crystalline prison, restless and defiant. The Turtlemyn goes on, ¡°They said it had many limbs, and that it burst from the ocean!¡± He laughs, ¡°Apparently, instead of food or shipmates, it attempted to steal a chest of precious metals that was being loaded onto the shellship.¡± The turtle shrugs, ¡°They suggested that the beast was an aberrant, and while it wasn¡¯t terribly difficult to defeat,¡± the gem seems to shudder in outrage, the merchant continues, ¡°It was smart enough to nearly get away with it, so I figure it must be better than most of my mid to low range cores¡­¡± He winks and whispers, ¡°They said it tasted pretty good too.¡± I have to have this thing¡­ I cough to cover my need and manage to say, ¡°How much?¡± The Turtlemyn¡¯s eyes gleam with quiet triumph as he leans back on his staff, his slow grin like the creak of an ancient door, ¡°Well, if you take this strange core off my hands you would be doing me a favor so¡­¡± He pretends to think for a moment, ¡°Ten gold pieces.¡± I choke, this bastard, he knows exactly how much I have and he wants it all! I was only planning on spending five gold at most, planning on saving the rest in case I need anything when I reach my new home, ¡°That¡¯s¡­ everything I have.¡± The Merchant smiles, ¡°I like you kid, and I know the kinds of things a new Sage like yourself needs for the road¡­ so buy this core from me and I¡¯ll throw in all the basic gear you were going to get for your journey, what do you say?¡± I tremble as I reach my hand out towards the core, unwilling to buy a living being without its consent, without it knowing what is happening¡­ The old merchant watches, but he doesn¡¯t stop me this time, knowing I made up my mind. The moment my fingers brush the core, an electric pulse surges through me, not painful but impossibly discordant and intense. It crashes into my essence like waves on a rocky shore, each one carrying something raw¡­ hunger, fear, a desperate longing. Then, beneath it all, a spark of something I almost miss: hope. The connection is visceral, as if this creature is not just aware of me but pleading for its chance to belong. For a heartbeat, I feel our souls overlap, and it takes my breath away¡­ I try to tell it what I want, try to feed my desire for a partner, that we could be friends, that I was going to need help on my mission, and I can tell that my thoughts are just as alien to it as its are to me. But, freedom, from this place, from the people who killed it, who trapped it? Now that resonates with it, the pulsing becomes more severe, pain springs into my arm, through my chest, and up my spine. I grit my teeth, and push my own essence back at it, forcing the energy back, until it reaches a balance point between me and it. Then, with a chime like a drop of water on a still pond, our bond is formed, and the pulse synchronizes with my heartbeat, becoming one with it. About an hour later I walk out of the Turtlemyn¡¯s store sporting a new backpack, a bedroll, some basic tools for working and cooking, as well as a week''s worth of travel rations. The kind old merchant even left me with three copper pieces for good luck and waves to me as I head towards the city''s southern gates. He calls out to me before I leave earshot, ¡°Tao protect you Sage!¡± I smile, my new partner wrapped and packed carefully away, feeling the freedom of my new road, and the weight of a task worth doing, to go somewhere I am needed¡­ to be of use to the world. I pull my cloak tighter around me as the city gates loom closer. The road beyond is unknown to me, as I had come from the north when I first entered the city, and though the weight of my new role settles heavily on my shoulders, it also feels... right. For the first time in years, the path I tread is one I wish to walk. I should save the copper really, but I pass by a really cute little Mousemyn baker with a tiny little apron selling sticky buns with pecans that were bigger than her. In the end I decline to keep myself from buying one and even end up tipping her the last coin I had before wishing her well¡­ and damn, one bite in and the warmth mixed with the caramel crunch¡­ it was one of the best treats I had eaten in a long time¡­ Just before leaving Endymion, I spot several older beggars slumped against the outer wall, crying after the carts which flow in and out of the city. One in particular grabs my attention, his legs ending in crude stumps, the scars telling of a hasty battlefield amputation. I try not to tear up as I am reminded of all the soldiers I had failed to save in the Aux. I kneel down to him, his hollow eyes stare right through me, but he holds out his hands.. The shorter hair and bearing of his shoulders, even now, mark him as an old soldier. I take what is left of my pastry, ¡°Here,¡± I say softly, pressing it into his hands along with a pulse of healing energy. His fingers tremble as he grips the bread, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. ¡°Bless you, Sage,¡± he murmurs, his voice rough with gratitude. I offer a small smile and nod, stepping away, squaring my shoulders and heading out the city gates. Chapter 2: First Steps Chapter 2: First Steps It''s been years since I have last been outside of the city. Honestly, I hadn¡¯t left the college grounds in a few seasons, the upper graduate classes had been all consuming. But now that I had graduated, I was so much more than I was before. I thanked the city management class I had taken because I now knew that the sturdy ancient stones which created a checkered pattern of a dark and greyish blue beneath me had been reinforced by magicians way back when this city was first founded. That they actually drew in tiny amounts of mana from those who tread upon them to maintain their structure, meaning that the road looked as good today as the day it was built. The road itself was wide enough for four carts to pass each other with enough space to walk between, which was good because near Endymion it was quite full with travelers. I ended up weaving my way through the many farmer¡¯s and guild worker¡¯s hauling their goods, as well as a few well guarded merchant caravans, each being pulled by the unique labor creatures of their homelands. As I observed the people around me it was clear that people were taking the deserter threat seriously. I didn¡¯t see anyone without a weapon clearly visible and easily accessible on their person, more than one looked as if they had been forced to use them recently. The core, my core, flicked at my mind as I observed the caravans, our link was faint through the pack and the wrapping around it, more like a whisper at the edge of my awareness, but I could feel its curiosity, its desires. When I passed by a particularly gaudy carriage, hauling several large and ornate chests which were strapped to top, the core flooded me with its wanting, it didn¡¯t have words, but it was clear the little bastard was trying to force me to take those shinies for ourselves! The carriage driver gave me a strange look as I burst out laughing for no apparent reason. The core continues to pulse with longing as we pass another caravan, its hunger sharp and insistent, tugging at my mind, trying to get my hands to move. I have to shake my head vigorously to push it away, I mutter under my breath, ¡°No, we¡¯re not stealing from the merchants,¡± drawing more strange looks from some passing farmers. I grin at them and wave, they roll their eyes. As the sun begins to set it I am far enough from the city that it was just me on the road now. The road itself had shrunk down to two carts in width but was still pristine. I find myself passing by some farmland that is rich with crops whose stalks are flowing in the wind, each gust sending waves through the plants, making it look like a golden ocean. I let my hand trail through the stalks as I walk, brushing against each one, and I speak to the core, telling it of my time at the college, of the friends I had made, enemies too¡­ Of the papers I had written at the last second, of the times I had spent more effort figuring out how to cheat on a boring test than it would have taken just to learn the material. The core didn¡¯t seem to understand much, but it didn¡¯t reject me either, I figured it must appreciate hearing about my life at least a little. Every now and again it would send me feelings of¡­ a vast ocean? Of hunting, and surviving? Its mind is difficult for me to grasp, but the challenge made for good company on the road. Based on the map I had studied of my route, I knew that the first inn was close, as the farms we had just passed were one of the general landmarks I was on the lookout for. It¡¯s been a few hours since I last saw anyone, and the sun has now totally set, leaving me to travel under the cool, silver light of the ring. I spent a decent amount of time just looking at it, the immense band that arched across the sky was not very visible in the city. Out here it looked like a celestial halo, its surface shimmering as it glowed with the sun¡¯s captured brilliance. The ring¡¯s light was soft and diffuse, bathing the forest I passed through in an ethereal way that felt both alien and comforting. It was while I was looking up at the ring and the stars beyond that I heard an unpleasant cough, followed by rough laughter. I stop walking, my gaze snapping from the stars to the shadows ahead. Four men step into the road in front of me, my stomach drops as my training kicks in. If there are four in front, there will be at least one behind. The faint crunch of boots on gravel behind me confirms it. The leader, or at least, the best equipped and most well fed looking member, stands slightly ahead of the others and taps a well worn bastard sword off of his pauldron rhythmically. He cocks his head to the side saying, ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve caught us a Sage boys.¡± His crew laughs, sounding mostly forced to my ears. He spits a foul looking substance out of the side of his mouth, grinning brown teeth at me, ¡°I heard the college gives gold to those who graduate, to start them off right in their new lives.¡± The core flares, recognizing the danger, demanding we fight, its anger a buzzing static that floods me. For a moment, I see flashes of strange flailing limbs tearing through the flesh of the soldiers, their echoing screams bringing pleasure as a ravenous hunger pushes against my mind. I clench my fists, digging my fingernails into my palm, forcing the vision away. The leader takes a step forward, mistaking my reaction for fear, nearly at arms reach to me now, and gestures around to his men, ¡°You help people, right Sage?¡± More snickering, this joke seemed to actually amuse the men rather than being an automatic henchman reaction. The leader frowns, looking me up and down, ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like you brought much with you¡­ guess that means you decided to save the rest for once you got to your new home?¡± He levels his sword at me, causing the rest of his gang to display their own weapons menacingly, I can hear even more weapons being drawn out in the woods. ¡°Seeing as you''re meant to make the world a better place.¡± He grins again, ¡°So how''s about you start with us?¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Outnumbered and out-armed, if I don¡¯t take control of the situation now they¡¯ll strip me of everything, if not worse... Old habits die hard, I think as I straighten my spine and force a grin. Let¡¯s see if they still remember their training. I snap a crisp salute, slamming my fist into my chest, shouting in my best sergeants tone, ¡°Ex-Auxiliary Healer Division member, Leod J. Faedyn reporting for duty!¡± The action has the effect I had hoped for, the leader freezes, his sword faltering mid-air. One of the men behind him mutters a curse under his breath, while another takes a nervous step back as they recognize not only a fellow soldier, but a healer. I press on, taking off my pack and pulling out my pots and pans, as well as all the food I had been given by the turtle, ¡°I¡¯ll get some stew going and then we can take a look at your wounds.¡± I quickly toss a small bundle of dried meat to the leader, who scrambles to catch it with his free hand. At the same time, I sweep up the foodstuffs in my arms and push forward towards an empty space at the side of the road. Each step feels like a gamble, but I force myself to move casually. The men part reluctantly, their eyes darting between me, the food, and their leader. One of them tightens the grip on his blade, and for a moment, it looks like he might lunge, but I don¡¯t stop, I just set my things down, back now to him, and begin stacking stones to get two fire pits going, one larger and the other smaller. I call out as I work, ¡°I¡¯ll need wood if we¡¯re going to eat tonight, and so we can boil water.¡± My voice is calm, authoritative, leaving no room for argument. I begin to pour water from my canteen into my two pots, one smaller designed to fit in the other for travel, and then begin to arrange the meager ingredients I brought with me for preparation. The men don¡¯t move at first, the silence stretches, tense and brittle, until one of them, a boy barely old enough to hold a mace, steps forward with a bundle of gathered wood. I accepted it with a nod, as if there was no question they would follow my orders. With kindling in hand I arrange it and strike flint to steel, coaxing the small flames to life. The smell of burning kindling begins to fill the air. I look at the boy kindly as I add more wood to the small fires, coaxing them to life, and as I place the pot over the flames, I say, ¡°Thank you soldier.¡± His mask breaks, and where there had been a rough and angry bandit, was now a hungry lost kid. I could smell rot on him, the smell taking me back to my Aux days¡­ whatever it is was bad, I say, quietly but firmly, ¡°Let me see your wound soldier.¡± The boy hesitates, glancing at the others for support. I don¡¯t look up to see their reaction, keeping my hands steady as I chop and prepare the ingredients for the stew I was making. I had positioned myself so I could still see the leader though, and his eyes narrowed, he seemed to be debating with himself whether I was a threat to his command, his sword grip clenching and relaxing as he watched me move. Behind him, some of the men glanced at the boy, then at the pot, there was conflict written all over their faces. They were waiting, watching, for one wrong move that would break the spell. But I just busied myself with the stew, my hands working quickly, cutting the dried meat and cheese, sprinkling in some blue salt and even a spicy looking pepper. Each motion is deliberate and calm as I say a silent prayer for the kind Turtlemyn for giving me a diverse range of food. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy make his choice, slumping to the ground, his shoulders now sagging with exhaustion, he begins taking off his boots. The smell hits me first, more powerful than the simmering food, it¡¯s a rancid mix of pus and old sweat that once made my stomach turn, before I got used to it while in the King¡¯s army. The gash on his foot was deep, red, and angry. Green ichor is leaking through the crude wrapping he¡¯d tried to bind it with. I place a lid on the stew pot, and throw a rag into the smaller one. Then, as I inspect his foot I mutter, ¡°It¡¯s a wonder you can walk at all.¡± I reach back in my pack and pull out a small bottle of alcohol, something the merchant had said was a gift to wish me luck. I use it to clean off the cooking knife first, then I look up at him, ¡°This is going to hurt. A lot. But it¡¯ll feel better after.¡± The boy nods, taking out his mace and biting down on the handle, clenching his fists against his side. I can feel the other men gathering around us as I pour the alcohol over the wound, the boy¡¯s body jerks as his screams are muffled as his teeth clamp down harder on the mace. I hold him steady with a firm and practiced grip, and knowing I have to clear the wound of infection before I can use any magic, I take the cloth out of the simmering water and use it to clean the rotted flesh the best I can. The boy pales as I work, his breaths quick and shallow, but he manages to stay conscious and mostly still, despite the pain. Around us, the bandits, no¡­ the soldiers, began to stir. One stepped forward to take the bloody cloth to a nearby stream to wash, another stirred the pot of food, and for a moment, we were no longer strangers but a unit, working together to keep one of our own alive. Once I cleared out the wound, I used the knife to cut away the rotted flesh. Now that the foot is free of infection I close my eyes and channel the energy within me. The pull is draining, as always, and I begin to take threads of my essence and weave them into the boy¡¯s body. The flesh of his foot begins to knit itself together one layer at a time, the wound slowly becoming smooth, pink, and healthy under my hands. Once I am done, my limbs feel heavy, my breath now coming in shallow gasps, but when the boy flexes his newly healed foot, and his face breaks into a beaming smile¡­ Well, that makes it all worth it. I take a moment to look at the men around me, they exchange glances too, their expressions a mix of relief and disbelief. I force a smile and say, ¡°Who¡¯s next?¡± Chapter 3: Hangover Chapter 3: Hangover I can hear a fire going, but it¡¯s far away¡­ instead the sound of waves crashing against a rocky shore fills my ears. The sand scrapes against my tentacles as they glide across the beach¡­ I am hunting for creatures that stray too close to the shore. I hide in the surf, looking up at the stars rippling above me, scheming for the day they will be mine. Something is poking my face, I flail awake, get tangled in my pack, the same one I¡¯d been half-snuggling, half-using as a pillow and very neatly fall over myself. Blinking up blearily, I see the deserter leader standing over me, a crooked grin plastered across his face. He¡¯s been prodding me with an engraved silver fork, and is now spinning it through his fingers like a juggler showing off his best trick. Using his free hand, he wafts a plate of food in front of me enticingly. I try to sit up, and let out a groan as the hangover of mana depletion hits me. It¡¯s a bone-deep exhaustion that leaves me feeling like I¡¯ve been marching and haven''t slept or eaten in days. Stretching, I arch my back and let out a satisfied, ¡°Blaaaarrrrrg.¡± The leader¡¯s expression resists my antics, ¡°You aux¡¯s ¡®r a strange bunch,¡± he mutters, offering me the fork handle-first with a flourish. When I reach for it, he doesn¡¯t let go immediately, leaning in closer to study my face. ¡°How can you sleep so soundly with that cursed thing in your pack?¡± I blink at him, caught off guard, but before I can answer, he lets the fork go abruptly, and I stumble backward a bit, barely catching myself. He chuckles, handing me the plate with a smug grin. The food is simple, a cut of freshly cooked meat, a few scavenged tubers, and a fat grilled mushroom, but my stomach doesn¡¯t care about presentation. ¡°Thanks for the food!¡± I mumble around a mouthful, shoveling it in with the enthusiasm of a starved animal. As the flavors mix haphazardly in my mouth, I feel the core stirring faintly in my mind, its alien instincts probing at the edges of my awareness¡­ holding approval? Hunger? Humor? I vaguely note the strangeness of feeling its thoughts without holding it, but I set the sensation aside, too absorbed in my meal to think about it. The leader watches me eat, his expression torn between amusement and mild horror, but at least he waits until my plate is empty to speak. He looks at me squarely, clearly annoyed to have this conversation, ¡°Look Sage, you ¡®elped me men¡­¡± He gestures around the group of deserters¡­ most of them had needed healing in one way or another, all of whom were now watching my exchange with their leader with undisguised interest. The leader grunts, ¡°Con¡¯t rob ya now, nah even if you had anythin¡¯ worth takin, ¡®sides that cursed stone anyway.¡± The leader¡¯s body shakes for a moment as if he is fighting against some dark memory, ¡°What¡¯er that thing is, we wan¡¯ no part o it.¡± The leader crooks his head, ¡°The question is, wha¡¯r you ganna do now?¡± I wipe my mouth with a cloth from my cloak''s many pockets, taking a moment before answering, ¡°Well,¡± I say, leaning back back on my elbows, ¡°First I¡¯m headed to the Crooked Lantern Inn down the way.¡± I glance at him with a raised brow, ¡°Hopefully they¡¯ll have some work I can do for a few more days¡¯ rations.¡± His expression shifts, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but it¡¯s gone as quickly as it came. ¡°After that, off to Fallowhold to start my life over again, hopefully the right way this time.¡± I take a breath, meeting his gaze. ¡°You know¡­ you guys could come with me. I could vouch for you, maybe you could hire on as caravan guards or something.¡± I gesture around the forest, ¡°You don¡¯t have to live like this.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. The leader laughs, shaking his head, ¡°Sage, nah een with yer ¡®elp can we do tha¡¯¡­ Yer not the first we ¡®ave held up.¡± He sighs, ¡°Nah¡­ the only reason we ¡®aven¡¯t been caught an¡¯ hung is ¡®cause our legion was scattered.¡± He gets a far away look for a moment, ¡°The countryside is full of deserters Sage¡­ it was bad¡­¡± The leader grinds his teeth, ¡°Them noble bastards, they promised us we would be fightin¡¯ to protect our homes.¡± He stands suddenly and begins pacing in front of the smoldering fire, his voice rising with anger. ¡°Only three months on the march¡­¡± he clenches his fists, ¡°Three months of lousy trainin¡¯ and then they sent my unit, full of greenies just like Tavian there,¡± he waves his hand towards the young man whose foot I had started with last night. Tavian, startled at being called out, nearly drops something he was holding, and gives me a shy smile. The leader continues his rant, ¡°Right to the front lines! We were nothin¡¯ but meat to grind. Jus¡¯ A wall to slow those horrible¡­ things¡­ We were just a distraction Sage.¡± He spits into the fire, ¡°We won¡¯ go back, it¡¯s not right.¡± I wince, the truth of his words cutting deep. I¡¯ve been in those planning rooms, where the ¡°Nobles¡± and the ¡°Heroes¡± tallied lives like they were inventory, where decisions about supplies were made with cold efficiency. I give him a moment to catch his breath, then softly say, ¡°You¡¯re right, you can¡¯t go back.¡± I pause, ¡°Nor should you.¡± He stops pacing, his expression changing to surprise, clearly not expecting me to agree with him, I go on, ¡°It¡¯s not right, wasting a man''s life for the pursuit of wealth or pride.¡± I sigh, ¡°I would have left the aux too if I hadn¡¯t felt so¡­ stuck¡­ so many more would have died if I had...¡± I smile at the leader, ¡°What they did to you, to all of us¡­ it¡¯s not right.¡± I gesture around at his men, ¡°But if you keep living like this, it¡¯ll kill you just the same.¡± I hold the leader''s gaze, demanding honesty from him. ¡°If you won¡¯t come to the inn with me, then what¡¯s your plan?¡± He runs a hand through his greasy hair. ¡°We¡¯ll manage.¡± His voice quieter now, like he is trying to convince himself, his gaze softens as he looks at his men. ¡°Maybe we¡¯ll ¡®ead deeper inta the woods. Find some old ruin to ¡®ole up in. Build a place for us¡­ for people who need somewheres ta go.¡± The hesitation in his tone is faint but unmistakable. ¡°We¡¯ll manage¡­¡± his voice trails off. Suddenly, his resolve firms, and he offers me a hand up, pulling me to my feet with surprising strength. ¡°Ur a strange one, Sage,¡± he says with a crooked grin. ¡°But maybe tha¡¯s nah a bad thing.¡± With a sharp whistle, he signals his men to pack up. They gather around him, casting glances in my direction as they fall in line. Before he disappears into the forest, he turns back to me one last time. ¡°Tao¡¯s luck in yer new life, Sage. Maybe you¡¯ll manage ta do some good out there.¡± He nods, and takes his leave, followed by his men. The last to go is Tavian. He shuffles over to me, fidgeting nervously, before holding out his hands. I tilt my head, curious, and reach out my own, he drops a small wooden figurine into my open palm. I turn the carving over in my hands, marveling at the detail, it''s a wonderfully stylized crow, the tiny grooves of its wings, the proud tilt of its head, I murmur little appreciations as I examine it. Tavian salutes me, clench fist to his chest, his shy smile growing bolder. ¡°Thank ye Sage. I won¡¯ forget wha¡¯ ya done fer me.¡± Before I can reply, he turns and runs to catch up with his unit. As he disappears into the trees, I tuck the little bird into my pocket, hoping they have a brighter future ahead of them. Chapter 4: The Crooked Lantern Chapter 4: The Crooked Lantern The Crooked Lantern is a bustling trade hub, not a single building but more of a walled compound. Somehow the place manages to convey ¡®safe fortress¡¯ and ¡®cozy tavern¡¯ at the same time, I love it. The heavy wooden door handle has been polished smooth by the uncounted myn who have constantly used it, and the smell of the cooking food that hits me as I enter the inn is intoxicating¡­ the core pulses with desire at the smell, demanding to eat, I giggle at the thought of it living through me. The room has a large stone fireplace in the middle where several different kinds of meat are slow cooking over smoldering coals, some spiced, others drenched in sauces. That and a large bubbling stew pot all fight for my attention. There are many people sitting at tables along the walls, mostly large groups, but there are a few free seats up at the bar. Behind the counter is a grinning old grey, his snowy streaked beard and wrinkled face juxtaposed with a youthful playfulness in his energy. The oldmyn is balancing a glass cup filled with a purplish liquid atop his head as I approach, he is acting solemn, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. The silver fox grins toothily at me and says, ¡°What¡¯s this now? A Sage on his pilgrimage?¡± He waggles his eyebrows, making the cup wobble slightly. I laugh, loving the min¡¯s performance, and lean into the bar, ¡°That¡¯s right, honored elder, I am indeed heading to my first posting.¡± The foxmin nods, causing the drink to fall into his suddenly waiting hand, which he then offers to me with a sly grin, ¡°On the house.¡± I smile back, and take a decent swig of the offered drink, it sends a jolt of energy through me as it burns my face, nose and throat, hitting my stomach like a punch to the gut. I cough as my eyes water, then I grin sheepishly, causing the foxmin to burst out laughing, sounding like yips and barks mixed. The bartender manages to squeak out, ¡°You¡¯re alright Sage!¡± between his guffawing and slapping the bar top. I chuckle at his amusement, and give a little bow, ¡°I live to serve, to protect, and to save,¡± waggling my eyebrows right back at him as I give the Sage¡¯s creed. Another bark, and then the old fox asks, ¡°So what''ll it be Sage?¡± He gestures over to the slowly rotating sauce covered haunches, ¡°those roasts have been cooking for well over a day now, the sauce on that one is first sweet, then hits you with a delightful spice.¡± he leans in conspiratorially, ¡°It¡¯d fall off the bone if you looked at it wrong.¡± My stomach rumbles, and the core¡¯s desire flares sharply, I wince, ¡°Well, as amazing as that sounds, I¡¯m afraid I actually must ask you if there is any work you need done here, elder.¡± I gesture to my pack, patting it to showcase its emptiness, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve run out of both supplies and money on my way here, and would like to earn enough in supplies to make it to the next town at least.¡± The old fox nods, stroking his beard, ¡°I suppose if anyone on the road would be light on wealth and goods, it should be a Sage.¡± He looks around at the tavern and I look with him, seeing the people around me more clearly that I¡¯m not fully focused on the food. The Inn is about half full, there are a few barmaids serving food and drinks, there is also a small kitchen in the back with two workers busily pushing out orders. The foxes'' brow crinkles, and he tilts his head dramatically, ¡°Sage¡­ I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d be willing to take a look over a trade contract with my partners out of Endymion City?¡± He shuffles a little before looking me in the eye, ¡°Prices have gone up¡­ not just some and not by a little,¡± he looks annoyed and resigned at once, ¡°I know the King¡¯s conquest,¡± his ears fall flat as he speaks, ¡°and its many failures are driving costs and increasing danger to all caravans¡± he looks over at his customers, and I notice a sense of pride and protection radiating from him, ¡°But this contract Sage¡­ I¡¯m being extorted, and I don¡¯t know what to do about it.¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The oldmyn sighs, ¡°If I don¡¯t get better terms, Sage, if I lose these suppliers¡­ it won¡¯t just be the food and drink. It¡¯s medicine, tools, everything we need to survive out here.¡± He gestures around the inn, ¡°It¡¯s not just travelers... The families in the hills and forest rely on us for supplies. If I can¡¯t make it work, they¡¯ll have nowhere to turn but the wilds¡­ and we both know what that means.¡± his voice trails off, the weight of the world settling visibly on his shoulders. The fox has my whole attention, I had never really been good with money, but logic has always been easy for me. Finding the cracks in conversations, the loopholes in rules, and either fixing or exploiting them is my favorite game. Plus, Sages are trained to be part mediator, part philosopher, part psychologist, and part magician. We are taught skills from building cities and organizing work crews, to learning how to maintain communities over decades, that and my time in the Auxiliary had taught me how to run efficient supply trains of materials & food. This task was right up my alley, I grin wolfishly, pulling out the enchanted pen from my inner cloak pocket, the beauty never runs out of ink and writes like a dream, as well as the stamp and wax seal of my office, and say ¡°I¡¯d be happy to help you elder.¡± Several hours later, I am sitting in the common room at my own table, having been served a meal of that slow roasted amazing meat, whose spicy burn continues to fuel my battle against the paperwork which is strewn about the table. So far I have managed to find several clauses where the merchants are giving themselves the right to increase their prices to any amount over the course of the contract. They are using sneaky wording, such as calling it an ¡°emergency measure¡±, yet leaving no clear definition as to what an emergency would consist of, and no limit to the number of times it can be applied during this contract! With an evil glee which confuses the core as it flows across our link, it tries to understand the feeling of hunting here, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be meshing with the war of words and paper¡­ Somehow though, I can tell that the core is still enjoying my pleasure as I find and dismantle the traps in the contract. Honestly I love the way my pen glides across the paper as I rewrite the contract. I focus on designing a philosophical and economically mixed approach so that IF a price has to increase, THEN it must be outlined as to why, AND that the price must reflect a fair increase commensurate with the risk. Lastly I add a clause that the price MUST then decrease once those risks are no longer present, adding in wording that showcases the agreement being about mutual gain, and not just the profit of one side. I giggle as I add my stamp to the contract, my first one, the stamp not only showed anyone who looked at it that a professional had been consulted, but that the college of Sages was now personally aware of this deal. I sigh internally with satisfaction, part of me marveling at what it means to be a Sage, to complete a job in my new role, and just how different it is compared to my old life¡­ I actually fall asleep at the table while re-reading the contract for the fifth time. When I wake the next morning, I find a bowl of porridge and fruit waiting for me along with a glass of chilled cider. It¡¯s delicious, and after I finish it I gather up the newly revised contract and go to find the oldmyn. The silver fox noticed me get up, and after reading over the contract he barks a laugh and claps me on the back, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. He grins and says, ¡°This¡¯ll really help Sage, thank you.¡± I blush, and say, ¡°Honestly I had fun doing it¡­ I¡¯m glad to help out.¡± Then he cricks his head, ¡°I bet you¡¯re looking to leave soon, meet me out front and we¡¯ll get you your due.¡± I take in the sunrise, stunning and warm light filtering through the trees. The foxmyn gives a little cough and I turn around to find him and his staff lined up. They all give me a unified bow and then each hold out a different package of foodstuffs for me. One gives me dried meats and fruits, another a few cheese blocks, even a bag of spiced nuts. I grin at them all, and they grin back. Lastly, The foxmyn hands me an intricately engraved bottle of mead, a fine image of the Crooked Lantern¡¯s sigil carved along its base. The myn¡¯s smile is warm, his eyebrows waggling, and he extracts a promise from me to visit again someday. I pack everything away, throw my pack over my shoulder and wave to them all as I head down the path, onto my next stop.