Chapter 35 – 100-Man Free-For-All

“Good luck!” She cheerfully said. “You’ve been practicing hard all week! I’m sure you’ll make it out alive.” If only she knew, Suran thought. His record in practice didn’t inspire confidence; he managed to win only twice. Still, he wasn’t concerned either. At this point, entering the tournament felt necessary. The money will be needed. Metal on his head clanked. Natalya was knocking on it. “Are you okay in there?”

 

“Don’t knock on it,” Suran remarked, bating her hand away. He took his helmet off and shook hair off his face. Ulfric fitted him with a sturdy set of steel armor, as promised. Suran spent some time adjusting himself to it, testing flexibility and speed. Still, he wasn’t completely used to it yet. “It’s time for me to go,” he said, looking around. A swarm of people surrounded the coliseum. The Arena had men posted to direct traffic and keep things moving, but still the crowd’s presence was crushing. “I’ll be going this way,” he pointed at a descending staircase by the arena’s entrance, “The competitors are supposed to meet there, down below.”

 

“Okay! We are set I think – I brought enough for three tickets and some snacks.” One ticket more than expected. By chance, they bumped into Lewkis on the way to the arena. Mortimer had sent him out – again. His refuge, the library, was also close, so they found the poor boy aimlessly wandering. Naturally, Natalya invited him to tag along.

 

“Don’t spend too much,” Suran instructed, heading off. Weaving through the crowd, he got to the staircase and began his descent. Step after step, the staircase continued to wind down like a coiling snake. The light from the surface faded and was replaced by torches and glowing orbs fastened to the wall. He reached the bottom and a massive corridor sprawled before him, gently curving out of sight. Wall to wall, it was packed with benches, chairs, and tables. Each carried a fighter. Some made the chair look like a toothpick, others, a toothpick in a chair. Some hollered like giants, others sat like a calm night. Yet, he saw death reflected from each of their eyes.

 

At the base of the steps was an array of counters and tables, each manned by a staff member. He approached the closet one and the male staffer asked, “Are you checking in for the tournament.” Suran nodded. The man took Suran’s name and directed him to the correct table, the one three over to the right. He went over, and the staff member pulled out his registration. The man documented his equipment, armor and all.

 

Down the stairs trotted a familiar face. It was the man who handled Suran’s registration – he could not recall the name. The man inspected each station, thoroughly questioning each attendant. He came to Suran’s counter and casually said, “Just in time The tournament is about to start.”

 

“I thought so with so many people here,” Suran replied.

 

“This?” The man scoffed, “This is nothing. Our records indicate a lot of no-shows, otherwise this place would be stuffed end-to-end.”

 

Suran’s ears perked up, “No-shows? What would cause that?”

“Well…” The man gave a sad chuckle, “Let’s just say war is a much more profitable venture. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get this show going.” The man left, and with Suran’s check in complete, he was ushered in by the worker.

 

Suran scoured for a free spot and propped himself up against the wall. War, he thought. Was it tied to the bombing? As far as he knew, there was no more news, but what did he know? A voice rang through the hall, interrupting his thoughts. He was unsure of its source, but it was familiar, it was the man from earlier.

 

The voice explained, “The format will be as follows: Participants will be divided into groups and sent into a free-for-all. Forfeiture, knock-out, and death will result in elimination. It will go on until there is one combatant remaining or until time runs out. Winners of each group will be seeded into a bracket based on performance. The rest of the tournament will be played out in bracket. Good luck.” It cut off and arena workers trooped out. With clipboards in hand, they called out names.

 

With each name called out, someone got up and moved to the front. They were ushered away, out of sight. Suran waited and listened carefully, but his name was not called. The attendants dispersed and he was left waiting. He left the wall and took a seat that was recently rendered vacant.

 

For some time, he quietly sat. No clock was posted, so he couldn’t tell for how long. The silence that settled into the area was relaxing, but it was interrupted by a halberd haphazardly swinging towards his face. It was slow – clearly not intentional – so he ducked and let it harmlessly fly over.

 

“Oh!” A voice called out. “Sorry about that! Didn’t see you there and got careless.” A man appeared before Suran, grinning and rubbing the back of his head. Suran didn’t say a word. The man’s face was honest. “Mind if I sit here?” He asked, sitting down. Shaking his green hair out of his face, he continued, “I heard the first round is wrapping up. Three made it out.” As he said that, staff filed back out and began calling names again. The man got up, “Oh, just heard my name. See you later, and good luck!” He waved with only two fingers and went with a smile.

 

An interesting man, Suran thought. He wondered where he was from; the man appeared a foreigner with his styled armor and almond shaped eyes. Clearly not Caucasian like the masses, just like Suran. He heard his name called from the front, breaking his train of thought. He went to the front and was led to a corridor that ran parallel to the main hallway. It was lined with small doors going off into the distance. An attendant took him to a door and instructed him to stay in the room.

 

It was an unceremonious and dark room, but a minute later its floor began to lurch and move, inching upwards to the noise of cranking gears. It kept going and going until it finally grinded and creaked to a halt. Muffled cheers penetrated into his small enclosure. He could feel the vibration and energy from the other side of the wall. It sounded like a continuous pelt of rain on sheet metal and felt like a horde of animals were stampeding on the other side.

 

A voice boomed over the commotion and unceremoniously started a countdown, “5…4…3…2…1… Go!” The wall in front of Suran sank into the ground and sunlight blazed through, blotting his eyesight. His eyes adjusted quickly. The arena was flat and in the center stood a ziggurat. People charged towards the center from all directions. Clashes had already begun.

 

Suran took his time. He exited cautiously wish his sword drawn, searching for anyone waiting to ambush him. His vicinity was clear, so he evaluated the battlefield. At least 100 fighters packed the arena. Skirmishes dotted the landscape. Fighting was most intense by the monument at the center. The format and rewards of the tournament favored those who were proactive, not those who skirted the outside, avoiding conflict when necessary. Suran took for the center. The top of the ziggurat was his goal.

 

The conflict grew clearer as he trekked towards the action. The battlefield was actually divided into three sections with deep pits lined with spikes serving as barriers. Connecting each layer to another was a series of bridges. Even the landscape altered as he made his way. While the outer layer was flat as could be, the middle housed boulders and rocks that broke up the terrain.

 

He made his way to the bridge. It was already occupied with four men engaged in combat. Due to his late arrival, they were too preoccupied to notice Suran until he jumped into the fray. With confusion as his cover, he made quick work of the batch. Three got a taste of his blade. The fourth got the boot instead, greeting the spikes below.

 

On the other side, he was the one caught aware. From the rocks lunged a spearman, Unfortunately, he was a hair slow, his spear grazing Suran’s chest plate as he dodged. With the man overextended, Suran plunged his sword into him and moved on.

 

He searched for the bridge connecting to the innermost layer, but the rocks obscured his line of sight. Frowning, he looked around and found a tall boulder. He climbed to the top and surveyed the area. The middle area was the most chaotic of the three; battles littered the entire middle layer. The ground shook and rocks flew from the right, pelting his armor. Yonder right was a plume of smoke, and from the smoke plowed through a fiery ball that erupted. Almost as a response, a boulder rose up. It hovered and then launched towards the fireballs source. The smoke cleared and Suran saw devastation – a duel between mages. He quickly looked elsewhere; that would be one place he wasn’t going to go to.

 

The opposite side didn’t look any better. A giant in the form of a man crushed rocks and fighters alike with a spiked ball. All other skirmishes dissolved; there was only one battle: the giant versus all others. The fighters banded together to take down the beast, yet their numbers seemed nothing as they were swept away by the spiked ball that plowed through their ranks. Some sought to escape. Their fate was no better. From the chain that held the ball, the opposite end was furnished with a hook. There would be no escape from there, Suran concluded.

 

Finally, he found the bridge nestled behind a series of rocks. What was on the other side piqued his interest: a man with a halberd taking refuge behind a pitiful wooden barricade being pelted with arrows. The one with the halberd was focused on the man shooting arrows at him from the top of the ziggurat. Sneaking up on him would be easy, but Suran decided not to. He made the archer his target instead. As confident as he was in his ability, the mages and giant radiated strength levels above him. An archer he could deal with.

 

Suran dropped from his perch and made haste. To the right was a bridge left open, the mages obstructing most paths to it. Slinking through the rocks and under their notice, Suran made his way through the battlefield to the inner circle. The archer was preoccupied with the halberd wielder. Taking him by surprise was the best option, he concluded.

 

He sprinted towards the structure, leaping over bloody messes. The air grew calmer and a familiar scent filled the air. It was metallic and repugnant – the smell of blood. How many have died? How many were left? Suran wondered as he scaled the ramps of the ziggurat. Dead bodies littered the floor. Their blood made the surfaces slippery to his annoyance. He recalled the ziggurat had four levels. With the archer stationed on the third, he could drop down on him from above. Approaching the fourth layer, he stumbled upon another skirmish. A fighter clad in armor dueling with another that was not as well equipped. The knight struck swiftly, cutting down his opponent in an instance. He then turned to face Suran,

 

Suran’s path was through him, so he went without hesitation. Despite weighed down by armor, Suran’s opponent held remarkable speed. He could not find an opening, each attempt quickly swatted by the knight’s reflexes. Suran feigned an attack, and the knight reacted to intercept an attack that wasn’t there. Now left vulnerable, Suran struck the chest plate, cutting through the metal. However, the knight somehow had lost his balance and swayed back, causing the slash to not go as deep as intended. Without his balance, the knight stumbled trying to get his footing. Suran watched him trip and fall over the edge. If neither the fall nor the slash killed him, Suran was sure the embarrassment would.

 

He moved to the top. From there he could see all that was happening – rather all that was not. In the time it took him to reach his destination, the field was rendered desolate. The 100 plus strong that took the battlefield was reduced to nearly nothing. Skirting the edge of the top, he found the archer. The archer was diligently focused on his prey. The wooden barricade the man with the halberd hid behind was chipped away from the arrow onslaught, leaving him vulnerable. Without skipping a beat, Suran aligned himself and leaped off. He plunged down with his sword right into the archer’s back. The archer, who was a woman, let out a muffled scream filled with blood and spasmed under Suran’s weight. Her body fell limp and Suran got up. The man with the halberd gave a friendly wave and a thumbs up.

 

Glancing around from the top, Suran took stock of the situation. He saw the giant lumbering around without a scratch on him. Far away, seated comfortably on top of a rock, was someone with two swords. It was curiously quiet, so he looked around and found that the mage duel that contributed so much to the commotion had come to an end. The mage who moved rocks was left standing – only barely. Doubled over and huffing, the mage was exhausted.

 

Judging by the few combatants remaining, Suran thought the time limit must be nearing. He could ride it out; waiting on the top of the ziggurat would be the safest option, but he had nothing to gain from staying; the arena rewarded those he fought. He headed towards the mage. With the mage out of energy, taking him down should now be possible. Some part of him found fighting like this distasteful, but he had always had before and it never stopped him. No reason for it impede him now, so he pushed those thoughts away and slipped through the rocks. He approached carefully. Each step measured. Then the ground vibrated and the mage straightened out his back and craned his head around. Suran froze in the shadow of a boulder. Did the mage notice him? He took another step and the mage instantly swiveled his head towards him.

 

A hailstorm of stone flew at him. Suran left the boulder and evaded through the rocks. He could hear shattering and smashing from behind him; the pelt of rocks decimating the terrain behind him. Periodically the onslaught stopped. The mage had to gather his energy. At that time, Suran approached as close as he could until the mage began his attack again, forcing him to take cover in the rocks.

 

The mage had a laser-like focus on Suran’s position. He tracked his every movement. As Suran searched for an opening, the mage sprung a trap. The rocks Suran hid behind vibrated and moved to crush him. Underneath him, the ground quaked and pillars of stone erupted. The stones grazed and dinged his armor as he nimbly avoided the storm of stones. Then, he stopped moving. As he stopped, so did the rocks. Suran was curious as to how the mage followed him so closely. It led him to reason that it was possible that the mage who dealt with the earth could track movement through it. The ground’s shaking did not cease though; the mage must be keeping his guard up.

 

He could not see the mage, so he waited a moment for the spasms to subside. They continued to his dismay. Waiting was ruled out as an option; he was the one between a rock and a hard place, after all. So Suran sprang into action. Instead of charging from the ground, he leapt onto the rocks and scaled the boulder formations. Near the top, he vaulted over the stone barrier the mage’s magic ended up forming and the mage came into view.

 

Suran finally understood why the ground was shaking. The mage was also waiting, preparing. He was plucking rocks and stones from all around and bringing it together to form a boulder that was without equal on the field. The mage was ready, and the moment Suran jumped in from above, he let his creation fly.

 

There was no way to dodge, being stuck sailing through the air. Suran had no choice but to meet the boulder head-on, so he did the only thing he could: put his sword in front of him to meet the rock. It grew closer and he braced for impact. All of a sudden, pain shot through his right arm and numbed his body. A shiver crawled down his spine. His body froze. It felt as though all the oceans were placed over his head. The crushing pressure wiped his mind clean, and his body moved on an instinct unknown to him. The sword radiated. It was a faint, pitch-black glow. His right arm raised it overhead. When the boulder was in arms-length, the sword swung down.

 

While the blade cut clean through it, the energy flowed out from the sword and into the rock. It ran all the way through, shattering the boulder in half. The two halves exploded away from each other as if they were instructed to never be close to the other again. However, the energy did not stop there. It crept through the air with terrifying speed right at the mage. The poor mage was frozen, mouth agape. He couldn’t bring himself to move. The black energy crashed into him and devoured him.

The mage was reduced to nothing.

 

Suran crashed onto the floor. The arena was in an uproar. A discombobulating nausea overtook him, and his head throbbed with a splitting pain. No matter how much he gasped and panted, his breath would not return.

 

A voice echoed through. It announced time had expired. The round was over. Five people survived the free-for-all and the crowd hollered enthusiastically at the results. Suran’s knees shook and he strained himself to get up. He felt nothing but relief.

Chapter 34 – Where Were We?

lol

---

He stopped reading for the light that came from the window and illuminated the pages vanished, obscuring the words in darkness. Outside the window, he saw the rain had paused, but it was far from over. Black clouds marched along the sky, sealing away any traces of the sun. Trees began to flail and unrestrained objects began to rattle as the wind grew and howled. Light, for fleeting moments, as the blackened sky was run through by bolts of lightning. The flashes of light out in the clouds were met by flickers from the library ceiling. Globes all along the walls lit up, bringing back light. He could read again, but, taking one look out the window, he was no longer interested. Suran gathered the books and returned them.

 

Out on the streets he was making a brisk return back to the house. There were still some items he wished to explore, magic namely, but there was always another day. He needed to meet with Mortimer to go over logistics, so he thought he could inquire about some of those topic instead of fumbling through books. A droplet splashed on his forehead, thunder rumbled in the distance. Suran, in no mood to get caught by the storm, sped his way through the city.

 

He reached the house, barely escaping the torrent. Inside, lights were already on and he heard clanking silverware down the hall. Suran walked into the kitchen. Natalya was whipping up a meal, humming along, while Iylia was eating a basic meal at the table. She seemed to be enjoying her bread. “How was your day?” He openly asked.

 

Natalya’s head swiveled around, “Oh! When did you get back?”

 

“Just now. From the library.”

 

“We did some shopping and came home a while ago,” She said, turning back to her sizzling pans. “I wanted to take Iylia out to eat, but the weather was getting bad. How about yours?”

 

“It was fine. There are still some things I need to check, though.” He hovered around the counter, watching Iylia from the corner of his eyes. She picked up her plate, hustled to the sink, and washed them spotless.

 

Natalya looked over and asked, “Done so soon? You just started eating!” Iylia just nodded her head. She finished cleaning in another moment and sped out of the kitchen like a passing breeze.

 

“Is there something wrong with her?”

 

“Don’t know,” Natalya answered. “Nothing seemed wrong all day. Maybe she just eats fast?”

 

Suran exhaled deeply, “Maybe that’s what it is.” He went over to the table in slouched in a chair. Maybe he was the only stressing over it. Het let go. “What are you cooking?”

 

“Nothing fancy today, just a chicken stew. Want some?”

 

He wasn’t hungry, yet he responded with, “I’ll take a little, if it isn’t too much trouble.” She finished cooking and brought over the pot. Rain began to pelt the roof and the room chilled. Suran filled a bowl partway with the stew and Natalya did the same, talking about her day. She and Iylia went out around town. Explored the stores, bought clothes, and stocked up on essentials. Their day was cut short by the weather, just like his. Soon, she was finished with her meal. Natalya cleaned up and left. Suran took in a spoonful from his bowl. The steaming stew warmed his core. He was left alone with only his thoughts and the thunder to keep him company

 

It wasn’t until morning that the weather cleared up. The dark clouds broke apart and sunshine beamed down. Again, Suran left early in the day to pay a visit to Mortimer. The road to the college was sparsely populated this early with a nice coolness in the air. He reached campus and made his way to the old man’s office. At the office door, he knocked and a lanky lad answered.

 

“Can I help you?” The blonde man asked.

 

“I’m here to speak with Mortimer.”

 

“Well… do you have an appointment?”

 

Mortimer yelled at the boy from the back, “Oh, just let him in Lewkis!” The boy sighed and stepped out of the way, letting Suran through. “What do you need?” Mortimer asked, looking a little grumpy in his chair.

 

“I wanted to go over some of the logistics for the trip and ask some magic related questions,” Suran answered.

 

The old man scratched his head and puckered his lips, “Do you have an appointment?”

 

“…No. Is that a problem?’

 

‘Well, what if I’m busy. Then what?”

 

“If you are, I’ll come back later.” Suran turned around to leave. There were other things he could spend his time on.

 

Mortimer stopped him, “No! Wait.”

 

“Yes?’ Suran said, facing the old man once more.

 

“I’m not busy,” Mortimer said, completely expressionless. “What do you need?”

 

Suran walked past Lewkis, who was standing around like a tower in a middle of a flat field, and sat in front of Mortimer’s desk. “We have about 10 gold – working on obtaining a little more – so we need to go over the trip details. Where exactly we are going, what path we will take, and how long the journey will be.”

 

“10 gold?” Mortimer said with a hint of surprise. He began rummaging underneath his desk and pulled out a massive, musty old map, “I didn’t think you would get that much that fast.” Pointing at a dingy gold star on the Northeast side of the map just above an island formation, he explained, “We are here. At Valcadia.” He slid his finger west to a mountain range that ran down the continent. “We want to go to here. The site is situated near a small Dwarven town called Thagonedrow.” He traced his finger back to Valcadia and mapped out the journey, “Going straight West would take us through steep mountains and vast wilderness, so best option would be to take the roads North and go all away around. From Valcadia to Alnwick then Alnwick to Havinshire.” Mortimer drew an ambiguous circle around the mountain range with his finger. “From Havinshire, we enter the neighboring country of Nosirion. We go past the city of Aguast and through the Dragon city of Kudrin and towards the mountain range, and we should be able to reach Thagonedrow from there.

 

Suran looked over the map and stroked his chin, retracing the path Mortimer laid out in his head. “For sure a winding path. What does the travel period look like?”

 

“Don’t know, maybe three weeks? A little more, a little less, depending on road conditions and travel speeds and whatnot.”

 

“I see. I will tell Natalya to budget for food as such. Is there anything else?”

 

Mortimer rolled his head around, thinking. “Nothing comes to mind,” he said after a moment, “But Lewkis, remember to get your things ready for the trip.”

 

Lewkis was jolted straight and exclaimed, “W-w-w-what? I’m going?!”

 

Suran looked at the toothpick man and back at Mortimer, “Is he coming?”

 

“Of course,” Mortimer, without a hint of shock, candidly said, “I am his mentor after all.”

 

“Hold up!” Lewkis strode his way over to the table, “But they might have already made budgets and everything! It’s not right to just throw me on them like that!” Lewkis’ eyes were wide and his voice was shivering with panic, yet, at the same time, he seemed all too familiar with this sort of fiasco. Lewkis looked over to Suran and mouthed ‘I’m so sorry” while Mortimer yawned away his complaints.

 

Suran cleared his throat and intervened, “We can budget for an additional person as is, but it may be tight. I’ve entered into the tournament at the arena to gather additional coin and scout the participants for a sellsword or two to join us on the expedition. With an additional member, it may be difficult to budget for a mercenary, but I will have to see. My only concern is how he will hold up on the journey.”

 

“The boy isn’t as useless as he looks,” Mortimer chuckled. “He is a Cleric in training, no easy task.”

 

“Let me explain,” Lewkis said with an exasperated face. “I’m not a cleric in training – yet. To enter Valeryia’s Cleric school, two rigorous exams must be passed. One is a magic mastery exam that tests the ins and outs of handling mana and magic knowledge. The other is a medical exam that goes over everything from anatomy to disease to herbalism to wound treatment – and I’ve already passed the medical exam!” His irritated face brightened up as he spoke of his accomplishment.

 

“There you have it,” Mortimer exclaimed with a clap of his hands. “He can come along as a doctor, or something. Now, was there something else you needed? Something about magic?”

 

“Yes, I wanted a brief overview of magic, since I know nothing on the subject.”

 

Mortimer dryly laughed. “The study of mana, magic, has been around longer than people have been flapping their lips. Even a brief overview would be extensive – the college spends a year on this very subject. I’ll try to make it short.” Suran leaned forward and perked his ears. “First, magic is nothing more than the study and application of mana. Mana being a natural energy that flows through everything. The applications of mana are generally divided into five categories: Alteration, Alchemy, Enchanting, Entropic, and Arcane. Alteration magic is using mana to add to or modify a living object. Healing magic as well as curses both fall in this category. Enchanting is called the sister school to Alteration because it involves using mana to modify non-living objects, like weaponry. Both of these groups seek to modify the nature of the object at hand without changing the actual object. On the other side of the spectrum, is Alchemy. The goal of Alchemy is to change the very object itself. From structures to and armor to the very air, Alchemy has seen widespread uses outside of metallurgy as a defensive orientated skill set. Entropic magic is the most learned school, for, if the categories were languages, Entropic magic would be the language of war. Entropic magic gives shape to mana and brings forth something from nothing. Killing of men is best suited by Entropic, so it has become the most valued school. And people like being flashy and throwing fireballs. And Arcane is the other category, where we throw in stuff that just doesn’t really fit everywhere else.”

 

“That seems like a reasonable overview,” Suran said, processing the information.

 

“It’s not,” Mortimer candidly replied. “You know just a little but more than nothing.”

 

Suran thought for a moment then asked, “So then, what is your area of expertise.”

 

“I deal with magical ancient artifacts, so Enchanting with some Arcane.”

 

“In that case, could you look at something for me?” He wasn’t sure if his sword was magical or ancient or even an artifact, but it was, as Ulric said, a strange and peculiar blade and Mortimer seemed like the type of man that ends up dealing with oddities at the end of the day.

 

Mortimer glanced at the clock. “No,” he said without hesitation, “I have scholarly stuff to do. Both of you will need to leave so I can get to work.”

 

“Wait, why me?!” Lewkis, who was standing silently, jumped into the conversation.

“Because I have scholarly stuff to do. Your lesson for today can be to go outside for once.”

 

Lewkis grumbled to himself, but he relented and left the room with Suran. “What did you want the old man to look at?” He asked as they worked their way out of the office building.

 

Suran tapped the hilt of his sword, “This.”

 

“Oh, a sword? So what’s so special about it?”

 

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

 

Lewkis’ face went red, “Oh, of course.”

 

“And what about you? How did you find yourself with Mortimer?”

 

“Everyone always asks that,” Lewkis said with a nervous laugh. “They always want to know why I work with some strange old guy, and the story isn’t as entertaining as they expect. He knew my father, and when it was time for me to find a mentor in magic after passing my medical exam, he offered to take me in. That’s all there is to it.” They stopped outside in the courtyard. His pale white skin finally showed itself in the beaming sunlight. “So, where are you heading?”

 

“To look at armor and equipment. You?”

 

“I’m going to go to the library. Don’t wanna fall behind in my studies – magic is a really hard subject after all. Oh, and before you go, your name is…”

 

“It’s Suran. Suran Ibrahim.”

 

Lewkis put forward his hand, “And I’m Lewkis Escalafis. Pleasure to meet you!” Suran shook his hand – his grip was weak. They parted ways.

 

There was a list in his head of what he needed to do. With only a few days until the tournament, he was not sure if he could adequately address everything. Certainly not his swordsmanship. His current results inspired little confidence and even though he planned to train with Iylia again, he doubted much progress would be made in a short time span. So he decided to put his efforts toward something that would bring results. His destination was Ulfric’s forge. Armor is what he needed.

 

The forge and storefront was shuttered up, as it was before. He went up and knocked on the door. He heard the shuffling of feet on wooden floors, and the door cracked open a minute later.

 

“Knew you’d come back,” Ulfric said with a devilish grin. The door swung open and the giant man invited Suran in. “So, what’re ya needing?”

 

Suran walked through the story, looking at the wares. “Armor,” he said, going past the weaponry.

“For the arena?” Ulfric asked with a raised eyebrow. He continued, “I’ll see what I can fix ya with.” He hobbled past Suran, still using a crutch. “What type of armor are ya looking for? Something cheap and simple like anormite, or something else?”

 

“I’m not familiar with the different metals and their qualities. You will have to walk me through it.”

 

Ulfric clapped his hands and rubbed them. “All metals have their pros and cons, but they are not all created equal. We have leather armor here,” he said hobbling past a rack, “But I won’t let ya have something like leather. At the bottom of the barrel is anormite.” He stopped in front a group of orangish, bronze armor. “It’s cheap. It’s abundant. It’s easy to make. And it’s better than leather. Past anormite is iron and steel. Tougher, durable, but not good with magic, I hear.”

 

“Is that it?” Suran asked, anticipating more information.

 

Ulfric’s face soured, “Don’t say it like that. My forge deals up to steel usually because steel is the accepted ceiling for most soldiers and adventures. Time to time, I do get some fancy custom orders and I do need to get higher quality metal, but that takes time. More time than ya have.”

 

“I understand, but can you still tell me what other metals are there?”

 

“Fancyin’ metalwork are ya?” Ulfric joked, shaking the room with his laugh. “I’ll be glad to tell ya at any rate. Next up on the list is Orichalcum. You can identify it as a glance with its scaly green sheen. Stronger than steel, but not restrictive with mana flow. Trunganium alloy is next. A bitch to make, through and through, but its quality can’t be denied. Unfortunately. Seldom will ya see armors past Trunganium. The higher levels are a pain to find, intensive to forge, and drain on ya coin purse. I digress, you got Myhtril and Titanous after Trunganium. People dream for that sort of equipment. And after, well, is Kathian Crystal and Adamantium. Coming across anything made out of those two, let alone the ore, is unheard of. Almost not even worth mentioning, like the other lesser known metals and ores that fit in-between what I laid out. But it’s fun to talk about. Legends are made out of that stuff.”

 

“Quite a few categories,” Suran mused. “So, what would you recommend for me?”

 

“Well, what’s your budget? And don’t look at me like that – I’ll give you a fair price, you be sure of that.”

 

Suran scratched his head and crunched numbers. “Two gold? Two and a half at most?”

 

“For you and the girl? That won’t do.”

 

“No, just for myself.”

 

Ulfric let out a sigh, “Was gunna say. You best get something for the girl as well. Where you’re going, you might need every blade you can muster.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“And if you aren’t comfortable with putting her out in front, just throw a bow or somethin’ on her and stick her in the back.” Ulfric seemed to be reading through Suran, which made him uncomfortable. “Alright well, I’ll make it simple for ya since you did me a great service the other day. A full iron set would normally go for a little over two gold, but I can give you a full steel set for 250 silver.” He leaned in close to Suran, “Just don’t tell my wife!” Ulfric reared his head back and laughed.”

 

“So that comes with everything? Helmet, chest plate, shield, and so on?”

 

“Well, everything but a shield. When you’re fully armored, ya don’t need a shield. It’s better to have a free hand to grapple with. You’d only take a shield if you were expecting something really dangerous like heavy duty magic or some very strong, penetrative weaponry.”

 

“Sounds good.” Suran reached for his pockets, but remembered he didn’t bring coins.

 

“Forgot your purse?” The observant Ulfric noted, chuckling. “Just come back with it and I’ll hand you over a set. I’m not open for business anyways so no rush.”

 

“Alright then,” Suran said with a nod of his head, “Thank you for the help.”

 

“Not a problem. Just make sure that before you this is all done and you leave for wherever it is you are going, that you get that girl some equipment. Would be a shame not to give something to someone who looks so capable.” Suran rubbed his neck. Ulfric didn’t know the half of it.

 

Suran left, saying his farewells. He would return with coin in hand as soon as possible. But, he wondered if he should bring the exact amount, 250 silver, or bring extra? Ulfric did have a point with Iylia. She was more capable than he was, at least. A bow might be a fitting solution, but Suran wasn’t sure. He would have to ask her sometime, maybe after the tournament. He still couldn’t shake a cold feeling in his stomach over this. He allowed himself to be strong-armed into taking a slave. It didn’t help that the whole ordeal felt strange the whole way through. The true intentions of Henry and Wylin Reginald still alluded him, if it was contrary to their story to begin with.

 

He could do nothing about it now. Was there even anything he could do? The sun still hung high in the sky; the day was young. He resolved that there was one thing he could do: train with Iylia. Suran took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Chapter 33 – Training Body and Mind

They were in the backyard of the house, Suran and Iylia were. With the light of day fading, Suran decided to head back to the estate, but they were only in the back by the quiet insistence of Iylia. It was no secret that he had no training with a sword. It was for this reason Iylia asked to spar with Suran, under the pretense of helping him prepare for the tournament. He was hesitant to accept, but saw no reason to decline.

 

He swung the wooden stick Ulfric had given him around in the air, testing its weight and size. While he was getting used to the practice sword, Iylia stood motionless opposite of him with her sword in both hands. Suran stopped waving the stick around. “Ready?” He asked. She nodded her head and straightened herself.

 

Suran took a step forward, but she took two. In the blink of an eye, she was in arms reach. He swung out a flurry, she parried to the right. He countered to the left, but she ducked underneath. From below, she used her great shoulder as a battering ram, smashing into Suran and launching him into the air and onto the grass.

 

“I’m s-s-sorry!” Iylia exclaimed rushing over. She tried to say something more, but her face was stuck in remorse so no words came out, instead shying away from Suran.

 

Still on the ground, he waved his hand, “It’s fine.” He got up and brushed the dirt off his clothes. Retrieving his practice sword, he said, “Again.”

 

And so, the rest of the evening was spent sparring. The outcome was almost always the same:  Suran disarmed and neutralized, Iylia cornering him with her sword, or with Suran sprawled on the ground. After each victory, Iylia would panic quietly before Suran resumed practice.

 

The sun set and Suran was sprawled on the ground again. There was a noise in his head; he was laughing at himself. Not once did he get close to beating her, but what else should he have expected? It might be enough practice for the day, he thought. He learned a lot being on the receiving end of Iylia’s surprising amount of skill, and that was enough for him.

 

He got up from the ground but, instead of telling her he was done for the day, he said “Once more.” He was taken aback – those were not the words he wanted, yet he made no move to correct himself.

 

Rubbing out the kinks in his neck, he instead muttered to himself, “Good grief…” Going for one more round shouldn’t be an issue; no need for fuss. Besides, he saw a means of victory. There was no use in sitting idle when he could lead by example.

 

No matter how he cut it, the task would still be a difficult one. Especially when he was only using what was given to him (a handicap in its own right). There wasn’t much time to prepare since she was already barreling down, but his observations gave him some insight.

 

There was a familiarity between his rounds with her and when Greyson spent time sparring with him back then. Greyson fought with form and precision at all times, forming an impenetrable wall that boxed in and suffocated his enemy.

 

Iylia fought the same way, in that her stance was rooted in form. However, she maneuvered with agility and finesse, opting to tear open weakness in her opponent rather than how Greyson imposed his will on them. But, what was strange was that her form fell apart after she engaged. Almost entirely by choice too it seemed. Her agility and finesse remained, but instead of careful maneuvering, she fought scrappily, always in his face, grappling with her free arm. She fought like a cornered animal stained with the fear of death.

 

In any case, it didn’t matter which way she fought since she was likely to win either way. But, she didn’t fight one way or the other. Iylia alternated her style. Suran sought his opening in the transitions.

 

He held his ground as she approached, not moving an inch. Iylia set upon him from the right. She chopped vertically. Suran dodged, but she anticipated his movement and almost grappled him with her free hand, pushing Suran off balance. Once his footing was lost, Iylia unleashed a flurry of sword strikes and hand attacks. His opportunity was lost, so he jumped out of her reach before her assault gave him no quarter. Iylia charged him again, and Suran steeled himself. He held no qualms with continuing this dance until he found the opening he needed.

 

And so the motions repeated. She opened with her refined movement while Suran stood in wait. By the time her attack turned into whirlwind, he disengaged, realizing his window had closed. There were opportunities to engage, to fight back, but he let them go. He simply watched her moves, waiting for the right opportunity, for he knew that his first strike might be his last.

 

And so the motions repeated. She closed in with her swift speed while Suran braced himself. He watched her movements closely. Iylia jabbed with her sword, he moved out of the way. Reaching out came her hand, aiming to finally grasp victory. Yet, all it grabbed was air, as Suran clasped his hand around her arm and yanked her forward. Iylia tried to reach around with her sword to pry Suran off, but he leveraged his position, forcing her to tangle her limbs simply trying to reach him. With the twist of an arm and a shove, she ended up face down on the ground. Pinned to the ground with a wood sword at her neck, Iylia had lost.

 

She struggled underneath. He pushed her harder into the grass. Now this, he thought, was an example. Then, he realized where he was. Suran stumbled off of her back and fell onto the dirt, wondering what he was doing. He shook his head and rubbed his temple. “Sorry, I… went too far. That’s enough for today.” Before Iylia could even get off the ground and respond, Suran retreated to the house, retiring for the day.

 

The next morning, Suran was nowhere to be found at the house. A note was left on the kitchen table that asked Natalya to keep an eye on Iylia and maybe take her out for clothes and other necessities.

 

There was a sour, cold spot in Suran’s stomach. He couldn’t bring himself to face Iylia after losing control yesterday; even though what he did worked, he wasn’t all too happy with it. A quiet place was what he wanted.

 

Suran went towards the college. He recalled that there was a large library nearby. He could read about the subjects he eagerly wanted to know more about while getting a nice, silent area to cool down.

 

Nestled on the outskirts of the campus, the library stood. It was large, as he thought, but its large wooden doors hid more than he imagined. It’s true, the library stood several stories tall, but, through an elegant octagonal opening that cut through, Suran peered down, witnessing layers unseen from the outside. Its grandiose grandeur was a sight to behold.

 

He went straight to a directory and flipped it open. There were actual several directories too sift through – all of them monstrous in size. Several interesting books immediately caught his attention: Mana Manipulation and the Potential for Producing Entropic Effects, Impact of Language within the Sphere of Magic, Modern Age Breakthroughs in Alchemy. Fascinating topics, but he held little confidence he could understand them. He flipped to a different page. Something more digestible surfaced as he skimmed through. Books on Sacred Treasures, races and species, history, and geography were part of the selection. He jotted down a list and went off to retrieve them.

 

It took some time to gather his list; they were all spread out on the various floors. But, when he had them all, he sat himself in the recesses of the upper floors by windows that overlooked the city. The first topic that interested him was Sacred Treasures. His goal was to find one, after all. He cracked open the first book, titled, Ancient Lore and Myths on Sacred Treasures.

 

Sacred Treasures, staples of time that drive legends, fables, tales, and history. Said to be forged from the immaculate Heart of God, their presence and influence exert undeniable sway on the shaping of history and culture. Even when the birth of Sacred Treasures has stagnated in the last centuries, the timeless relics that remain never cease to be a driving force. In the sands of time, some stories and record have been lost for these unequaled items. But, for those whose history has stood the test time, their stories and legends will be recorded here.

 

He flipped back a few pages, away from the introduction to the index. Quite a few names were on the list, but no matter how much he searched, he could not find Freymar’s Gate listed. For something deemed lost, he was not surprised – just disappointed. There were numerous other entries though, each with dozens of pages and sections. He picked out a few names from the index that caught his attention and began reading.

 

            Warhammer of Azeron

Roughly 2,300 years ago, the Warhammer appeared, wielded by the Holy Knight Azeron. Azeron was a roaming knight who sought to deliver justice to the war-torn lands. He waged war against the Demons and those who brought chaos and evil to the lands. It is said the hammer arose from an expedition to the mountains surrounding Kath-al-Ur. A horde deserted soldiers took refuge in the mountains, preying upon all in the countryside. Azeron caught wind of their presence, and, true to his nature, rode into the mountains with his order without a second thought. However, his arrival was anything but pleasant; he was swiftly ambushed by a legion of demons from all sides. Man and demon alike both fell under the crushing blow of his hammer, but wave after wave crashed into his men. Surrounded, they fought to their last breath. Even Azeron could not come out unscathed. In an effort to be a shield for his men, he was wounded beyond repair, standing at the door of death. Even then, Azeron refused to fall. It is said that in his heroic last stand, he ascended to the heavens and descended a radiant sun, brandishing the gleaming Warhammer. One swing from the hammer sent shockwaves through the mountain range. The ripples tore asunder the mountains, reducing it and the enemy army to nothing. Azeron, wielding a gift from god, returned a saint to his people. The hammer’s tale with Azeron ended with his life at the Battle of Kath-al-Ur where he used the hammer’s mighty power to shake the world, shattering the Maz’rook continent off of its southern half.

 

            The Scythe of Thantos

Thantos was a peculiar man who appeared 2,300 years ago. He simply showed up one day. No one knew who he was, and there were no friends, family, or relatives to speak of. Always alone, seldom speaking, and surrounded by a creeping chill. He became the center of many strange and odd stories and rumors, but that didn’t stop others from treating him with respect. In an interesting twist, he worked as a social servant. In a time of great unrest, he served as a judge and executioner. But, with the demon scourge straining society, the North slowly fell into chaos and disarray. Thantos, however, would not accept that. One day, he came into the city, scythe in hand. When or where he got it, no one knew, but they did come to understand the death it wrought. Without remorse, he culled those that instigated tyranny and the weak that ailed society. The scythe unleashed a hellish frost that quelled the civil unrest and reforged the splintered North. Thantos returned to his quiet life, but took up his scythe once more to participate in the Battle of Kath-al-Ur, settling a thick verglas on the lands that forever altered the land.

 

            Greatsword of Efrain

Efrain, herald as one of the greatest heroes, was one of the leaders in the war against the Demons. On the battlefields, over 2,300 years ago, he was a force to be reckoned with, cleaving through the enemy lines by himself. He rose to fame and power quickly – without even possessing a Sacred Treasure. His greatsword, a gargantuan blade more fitting of a giant, only came to him late in the war. Before the Battle of Kath-al-Ur, he took the war to the demons, dealing devastation to the upper echelons of the demon ranks. Efrain returned with the giant, smoldering sword. He quickly put the asset to use, utilizing the blade to fan ferocious infernos. In the Battle of Kath-al-Ur, he emboldened the embers of the sword and brought forth a sea of flame that engulfed all the lands. He survived the aftermath of Kath, and spent his later years tending to the broken world., being a flame in a time of darkness.

 

The book was full of many other stories, going into the history of each item at depth, but Suran felt it was enough. Information was nice, but what he was reading didn’t appear helpful. What might be useful to know is more about dragons. He recalled that the site Mortimer marked out was in Nosirion and that Nosirion is where dragons live. The next book he cracked open was titled The Modern Race of Dragons Compared to the Dragons of Old.

 

The Dragon race is a pecuilr race simply because of how they changed and evolved over time. Today we see two distinct groups of Dragons: The humanoid dragons, which could be compared to the humanoid beastpeople, and the dragon group which evolved to include drakes and wyverns.

The Dragons where at first simply just that, Dragons. There were no human dragons, no wyverns, no drakes, or other variant. There were of course various types of dragons such as ones that specialized in various elements and the sorts, but there considered to be one species and one group. Despite the differences in their abilities, there were more classes and groups depending on their size and power.

 

During the turbulent times surrounding Kath-al-Ur, the Dragons were highly sought after as a war asset. Much like the Lords of the Beast people, there were some Dragons that were considered legendary and could match against Sacred Treasures. Unlike the beastpeople, these Legendary Dragons were not as elusive, making them prime targets. The Dragons were incorporated into the ranks of various armies, and those that did not comply were hunted and slaughtered so that others may not use their power.

The Dragon race dwindle in numbers from being utilized in war and methodically hunted. It was then that the Dragon race took on a forced evolution. Many of the larger and more powerful dragons were regularly targeted, so what began to happen was that these dragons began to convert and sacrifice their power and access to large reserves to mana to take human forms. In almost all cases the process was irreversible, thus leading to the creation of the modern Dragon humanoid race. Over time, other dragons began to take this evolution. In a humanoid form, the Dragons lost access to vast reserves of power and mana, but ultimately increased their chances of survival by allowing them to respond to their environment in a more adaptable manner.

At the same time is when the emergence of Wyverns and Drakes came about. Some dragons did not have the sufficient energy to make the human transformation and some simply did not want to make the transition at all. For some heritage lines, this caused a regression that turned them into these other variants. In its own manner, the regressed Dragons stood at a benefit as well reproductive wise and survival wise since they weren’t as sought after. Regardless, still some Dragons nether gave up their power or transformed but their numbers remain few. In fact, some of those original Dragons remain to this day.

However, there remained one category of Dragons that stood above all the rest, simply being referred to as ‘Legendary Dragons’. These were the Dragons herald as standing toe-to-toe with Sacred Treasure wielders. In most cases they gave up a portion of their power to turn into humans or went into hiding so in modern times one has not appeared in a long time. Even if they were to exist, it is plausible that the dragon people would hide its existence. Still, there are rumors that the Legendary Dragons have taken a new shape. Since their power was so vast, it was hypothesized that when they gave up a portion of their power for a human form, they also obtained the ability to willingly change between forms. However, there is no documentation or records of this occurring. The reason for this is that in modern age there has been very rare instances of Humanoid Dragons being able to turn back into dragons and willingly change between these forms – so it grew into theory that these Dragons that stood at the pinnacle of their race could do the same

 

He closed the book and picked up another. Suran couldn’t spend too much time reading any one book, and there was much to go through. There was a tapping on the window and he looked outside. It was raining.

Chapter 32 – The Green Forge

o shit im back from work and finals

 

---

 

Suran wrangled back something that almost slipped his mind – again. “How much money do you have, Natalya?” Considering how problematic money seemed to be, this should have been something he asked a long time ago.

 

She pulled out a bulging coin purse, loosened the draw strings, and dug her fingers into the bag, sorting through the coins. She only sifted through it for a few moments before stopping, shrugging her shoulders and answering, “Dunno, maybe 11 or 12?”

 

“11 or 12 gold?” Suran asked surprised, raising one eyebrow.

 

She nodded with a sour face, “Would have gotten more too if the house and land weren’t all messed up when I sold it.” Natalya crossed her arms and pouted.

 

“Are you fine using your money for the expedition.”

 

She shrugged again, “There’s nothing else I need to spend it on. If you need to use my money, go ahead.”

 

“Great,” Suran said, nodding his head. Natalya had a large sum of money, maybe enough to fund the expedition – or at least get close. There was one way to find out, Suran thought. “Let’s go to the market. See what we might need. Gauge the costs.” There was no disagreement, so Suran led the way towards the markets. The only thing sorely missing was pen and paper; budgeting and planning was a task better left to parchment. He could do without it, albeit annoyingly.

 

Seeing the streets sparsely filled was an odd sight in the densely populated city. Ever since the night on the docks, the city had been quieter; there was less of a hum on the streets as a pervasive unease hung overhead. The events of the morning seemed to have exacerbated the issue. Suran made note of all this as he entered the market.

 

“Where do we start first,” Suran wondered aloud. He browsed through the foodstuffs which stood at the front of the market. Most food options were just a few copper. Bread, for instance, was 5 copper a loaf. Singular fruits and vegetables were just a copper or two with bundles and bunches priced accordingly. “What do you think Natalya?” Suran asked, deferring to the resident expert.

 

“I could figure something out,” she mused as she perused the fruit stands, “but I’ll need to know how hearty and nutritious you want the meals as well as the travel details. How much we eat and what we eat will depend on where we’re going and how long it will take.”

 

Suran scratched his head. “For meals quality, we should try to avoid barebones meals as well as gratuitous ones.”

 

“So, you want just normal meals?”

 

“…Yes,” Suran said after a moment, making sure that is what he meant. “I don’t remember where or how far the place the old man mentioned was.”

 

A voice mumbled, “Eastern Nosirion.”  Iylia gave the answer with no confidence. Despite her lack of faith and her answer, Suran thought it to be correct since it did jog his memory.

 

Natalya nodded her head and said, “I can work with that. If I remember right, place is pretty far. Would be best to just set aside coin for a month’s worth of food. We will have to buy supplies as we go along since stuff goes bad.”

 

“How much do you think we should budget?”

 

She scrunched up her face and crossed her arms, “I can make a decent meal for about 35 copper. So 35 copper per person for maybe two meals a day for however many days.”

 

Suran did the math and said “28 silver per person.”

 

“How did you do that so fast?” Natalya asked, perplexed.

 

“Math isn’t that bad,” he explained, “35 per meal twice a day is 70 and then over 40 days is 2,800 copper. 100 copper is one silver so it becomes 28 silver per person.”

 

Natalya squinted her eyes, hard in thought. Finally, she said, “Math sucks.”

 

“We can just keep adding 28 to our budget for each person there is. I’ll leave the exact details of the food to you. For now, let’s move on.” Suran debated between general equipment and travel arrangements. He quickly settled on transportation; they weren’t going anywhere without a means to travel.

 

It took some walking to get where they needed to be. Animals and the sorts take up space, so they were relegated to the corners of the marketplace. Cows, chickens, sheep, all familiar faces among the animals. The same could not be said for the sleek and narrow bird-like creatures, the bulbous and stout four-legged animal with tusks, the critter that looked like an oversized rat without a tail, and the other queer creatures that were displayed.

 

Suran spotted a horse vendor – someone who dealt in the familiar – and went to him. He explained his situation and his needs, and, in turn, the vendor explained his options. As expected, the tusked animal and the rats, crofs and glabers respectively, were not travel animals. Crofs were kept primarily for their tough hide while glabers were a sort of scavenger that kept fields and pens clean, with their meat having high nutritional value.

 

On the other hand, the mean looking bird vroelia was a widely used means of transportation. The flightless bird was valued for its quick feet and vast reserves of stamina. Of the conventional travel animals, vroelias were the swiftest, able to outpace and outrun anything else. He briefly paused his explanation to chastise Natalya for playing with the horses. The merchant turned back to Suran with a sly smile and explained their downside: poor strength. Loading them up with cargo or having them pull wagons of supplies was a difficult job for the bird; their swift and nimble body did not lend itself well to raw strength.

 

Suran started perusing through the stock of horses. There were two other animals mentioned, but neither held Suran’s interest; one was for the tundra and snow while the other was for the mountains and desert. Horses would do fine, he thought, as vroelia seemed to fit fast and light travel. At any rate, anything he got would eat a chunk out of his budget. Horses went anywhere from one and a half to two and a half gold, depending on breed, size, and quality. He made note of the prices in his mind, thanked the merchant, and went on his way.

 

Wagons was next on his list. After leaving the horse merchant, he took a brisk walk to the wagons and carts – conveniently placed beside the animal vendors. While there were many different wood types and qualities as well as build styles, a moderately large wagon of decent quality with a cover would cost around one gold.

 

Last was equipment. He only had a sword – no telling of its quality either. Mortimer mentioned how the site he picked out was more dangerous than usual. Armor and protection was a must. In its own subdivision in the market, the armorers and smithies were lined away from everything else. They could hear the striking of steel and puffing of fumes as they walked down the cobblestone streets. People were still scarce on the streets, but it felt as if some life breathed through these roads.

 

“Which one do we go to?” Suran asked. There were far too many forges and they all looked virtually the same.

 

“Uuuuh,” Natalya droned out, “What about that guy we meet at the Circle?” Her question was directed at Iylia. Suran furrowed his brow and let out a ‘hmm’. She turned to Suran and said, “At Alexander’s Circle, Iylia got to help out a couple of people. One of them said he was a smith.

 

“Think we can find him?”

 

Natalya scratched her chin, “Maybe. I think he told Iylia his name and stuff so she probably knows better than me.”

 

“Can you take us to him?” Suran asked Iylia. She tensed up, but then nodded reluctantly. Iylia walked and led the group around, surveying each building. She refused to any anyone for directions, content identifying each building by the signage. It was outside a simple building that hung a simple green placard she stopped. The sign read ‘Green Forge’.

 

“Is this it?” Suran motioned towards the building.

 

Iylia looked at the sign again and said, “I- I think so…”

 

Suran shrugged. Even if it wasn’t the place, he would need to start shopping around eventually. The door was closed and the windows shuttered, so he knocked to an`nounce his presence before entering. It was dark and empty in the front of the store, only weapons and armors populating the floor. Suran threw out a, “Hello,” trying to see if anyone was in.

 

He heard the slow stomping of boots and a gruff voiced called out, “Who’s there? We’re closed.” A burly bald man sporting a red beard hobbled out of the back. Wrapped in bandages, he carefully walked, crutch in hand. “Come back another day, week, maybe month-” he stopped to see who came in and his eyes widened. A grin grew on his face and exclaimed, “Why, if it isn’t the lass from earlier!” A full-bodied laugh resonated from the large body and shook the room. “Who’s that lad?” He said, nodding his head at Suran.

 

Natalya, without missing a beat, replied, “He’s Iylia’s owner.” Suran flinched at the phrase; he still couldn’t shake the unease from the arrangement.

 

“So that’s how it is,” The man said, stroking his thick beard. He stretched out a hand toward Suran, “Name’s Ulfric Bjornsted and this is my workshop.

 

“I am Suran.” He shook hands with the man – his grip a little too strong for his liking.

 

“That lass of yours did a real service fo’ me earlier!” Ulfric limped his out from behind a counter and showcased his injuries. His entire left leg was wrapped in gauze, with many other smaller bandages and wrappings covering his body. “If it weren’t for her, might ‘ave lost a leg – or worse!”

 

Iylia shied away from the conversation and said, “I d-didn’t do much…”

 

Ulfric roared again. “Stopped some bleeding was all you did, but was enough to get me to a doctor! So tell me, what can the smith of the Green Forge do for ya? A round of drinks or a sharp blade?”

 

Suran motioned to answer, but was interrupted by a holler from the back, “Who’re you talking to Ulfric? I thought I told you to say in bed!”

 

“Just some friends dear, don’t worry about it.” Ulfric sighed and rolled his eyes. In a whisper he said, “That’s ma’ wife Darcy. Means well. Most of the time.”

 

“Did you say something?” Darcy yelled out again, causing Ulfric to jump in place. “I don’ care who it is up there, friend or customer. Send them out this instance!”

 

“But, Darcy! It’s someone important!”

 

A little lady stormed out from the back, “Who could be so important?” Her poufy, curly red hair was bouncing as she walked up to them.

 

“Darcy, they’re the folks that gave me a hand this mornin’.”

 

Darcy turned from a hostile housewife to a loving lady instantly. “Why didn’ you say so earlier?” She turned to the group, “I owe you thanks for helping out this meathead of mine. Do what you need to do, but don’t keep him long – the doctor ordered bed rest, after all.” Suran nodded his head and Darcy flew away, saying she had some housekeeping to do.

 

Ulfric patiently waited for his wife to scurry away before letting out a sigh of relief. With his free hand, he scratched his beard and asked, “What can I do ya for? Since you helped me out, I’ll make sure to do ya right.”

 

“We were planning an expedition to some ruins,” Suran answered. “For that, I needed some armor and equipment.”

 

“That, I can do!” Ulfric said with a hearty laugh. “Only for you or for the lass as well?” He nodded at Iylia.

 

“Only for me since Iylia won’t fight; I will be the only one doing any fighting, if necessary.”

 

Ulfric scrunched up his face, “Sure about that? Ruins and dungeons aren’t for me – I keep to the forge – but even I know a one-man vanguard would be unwise.”

 

“I was already considering hiring a sellsword,” Suran replied, waving off the concern.

 

“Fair enough,” he grunted, “But I’m sure that lass of yours could pull some weight if you wanted.”

 

Suran frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

Of all people, it was Iylia who answered in her quiet voice, “I was t-taught to use swords and bows.” Ulfric shrugged as if to say ‘that’s what I meant’.

 

“I see,” Suran said. “However, I won’t ask you to fight.” He turned to Ulfric, “Anyways, all I will need is some armor.”

 

A grin grew on Ulfric’s face like a kid that was asked to bring out all his toys. “Come with me and let’s see what we can fix you with. Do you want a full set or just pieces? Do you want it light or heavy? What about quality? Materials?”

 

“Ulfric, what did I say?” Piercing through the house was the shrill of Darcy.

 

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “As much as I’d love to go through everything with ya, my loving wife won’t seem to have any of it today. I’ll have to ask you to come another day so we can do this the right way.”

 

“That’s fine. We were only gauging prices anyways to make a budget.”

 

“Great! Come by in a few days and, depending on your needs, I can get you set with some great quality works at a fair price, a gold or two at most.” Ulfric hobbled behind the counter for a moment, “There’s one thing I can do for ya now though.” From underneath the counter, he pulled out two large wooden instruments in the shape of a sword and threw them at Suran. He was caught off guard, but he managed to secure both of the objects. “Them be some practicing blades. Give one to the lass and have a go. Can’t hurt to get some practice in for anything that comes up during your journey.”

 

“I will put them to use,” Suran said. He propped them up on the wall, “That reminds me, I have a sword but I don’t know its quality. Can you take a look?”

 

“Sure I can! Bring me the blade and I’ll see what I can tell ya.”

 

Suran walked up the counter, unsheathed his sword, and placed it in front of Ulfric.

 

Ulfric whistled as he examined the sword. “What a beaut’ of a sword this is. Shame it’s in such a dingy scabbard. Mind if I hold it?” Suran gave him the go ahead. Gingerly, the behemoth of a man picked up the sword and began measuring its qualities.  “Let me to this in the back,” he proposed, “I’ve got some tools there I can use to compare it to my other works.”

 

“That’s fine,” Suran said.

 

Still marveling over the craftsmanship of the blade, Ulfric took it into the back. They waited patiently outside for the man to do his work. It was several minutes before he hobbled out, noticeably exhausted. Placing the blade back in front of Suran, he inched in close to Suran and whispered, “I don’t know where you got this nor am I going to ask. It’s peculiar, to say the least. That is, if the black coloring and the red gem weren’t enough of a giveaway. I tested it against all the materials and metals I have, and this surpasses anything I have – maybe anything I’ve ever had. And the craftsmanship is… impossibly good. Not a single flaw I could find, and I’ve seen countless blade in the last 30 years to know even the smallest of ‘em. Take good care of this blade and keep it out of wandering eyes, lad.”

 

“What do you think makes this blade good,” Suran asked, his curiosity not sated.

 

Ulfric shrugged, “Could be the material. I honestly don’t know what it’s made of. Or could be some magic enhancement. I know nothing of that magic stuff so I can’t say for sure.”

 

“Is magic enhancement common?”

 

“Not really. It is a difficult process that, I heard, ends in failure more often than not. As far as I know, blades imbued with magic can be extremely powerful.”

 

Suran thanked Ulfric and took back his blade. He still wasn’t satisfied; he felt Ulfric’s analysis left him with more questions than he started with. It certainly was a peculiar blade of high quality, but knowing only that was not enough for him. There was something about the sword that was unsettling. It was shrouded in darkness and the unknown. He needed to learn its secrets, but he felt the more he tried, the further the darkness spread. He feared what could lie in the dark.

Chapter 31 – Alexander’s Circle

In the end, Suran found himself headed towards the Adventure’s Guild. Money was a problem, and it wouldn’t be solved by simply searching for a solution. With no other options, he had to start somewhere. The Guild wasn’t necessarily bad work either (certainly better than trying to eke out a living through farming, trading, or any of the other occupation and tasks that would have a low yield for someone without resources). Some of the tasks he saw were drab; simple requests asking to deliver this, hunt that criminal, escort this person, and so on. However, some did pique his curiosity. Some asked to search and gather materials with properties and attributes he has never heard of and to slay creatures and beasts of a peculiar variety. No matter the task though, Suran was willing to give whatever it took to get what he needed – even if it was an eternity.

 

The road to the Guild was blocked. A crowd stuffed up Alexander’s Circle and the remaining space was blocked off, making passing through to the Guild difficult. There probably existed some path around the traffic, but Suran wanted to know what was going on to cause this. He pushed and squeezed his way through while Natalya and Iylia followed through the path he created. Besides the incessant buzz of chatter, he found nothing was going on. Casually, he asked the person standing next to him what was going on.

 

A prince was coming through, he heard. Prince Harold, one of the younger members of the royal family, was headed to the Valcadia arena. He was to conduct the opening ceremony for a gladiator tournament before heading off to the East, to the Wood Elf nation of Falaron where he was to meet his older brother Pier.

 

Suran wasn’t interested in seeing some noble ride away, but it honestly didn’t make a difference to him. He would either have to wait to get through the masses or go around to get to the Guild anyways. Instead, he turned to Natalya and Iylia to see what they wanted to do.

 

“It’ll be fun seeing a prince roll by!” Natalya cheerfully replied. On the other hand, Iylia was hiding behind Natalya. Or at least trying to. Didn’t really work since Iylia was at least a foot taller than Natalya. Iylia didn’t give a response that indicated she wanted to stay or leave, but her constant squirming and refusal to leave either of their sides made her seem very uncomfortable. So Suran compromised and took them to the back. Natalya could still somewhat see what was going on, and the thinner crowd made Iylia noticeably more comfortable.

 

Cheers and shouts rouse from the crowd, riling up Natalya and tensing up Iylia. Suran craned his neck up and stood on the tip of his toes to get a better look. Trotting down the road was a dark green carriage with black decorations and designs outlining it. It rolled through with a window in the back removed. Waving with a full smile, a blonde teenager entertained the people from the back of the carriage. The boy was Prince Harold.

 

Boom

 

Panic flowed through the crowd. Screams erupted. Suran pushed his way ahead.

 

Boom. Boom. Boom.

 

The once boisterous crowd was running in full force. Where the carriage was once travelling through were ashen craters, debris, and flames. Another explosion ripped through, this time from the fountain that stood at the center of the plaza. Chaos settled in as Alexander’s circle lay in ruin; Mounds of mangled and twisted bodies mixed in with the guttural screams of the dying littered the blackened and cratered ground.

 

“Natalya, Iylia, help whoever you can. Prioritize those whose life you can save.” Suran wasted no time. There were no guards around, no doctors, no help. If no one was going to act, then he would. He ran ahead towards the carriage. Suran plowed through the black smoke and over the splintered ground. The carriage was remarkably intact for having gone through several explosions at the least. Still, he had very little hope for a positive outcome. The black horses that pulled the carriage were reduced to bloody piles of meat. The frame of the carriage was shattered and splintered.

 

Suran slid down the side of the hole and went up to the carriage. He checked the front bench. The driver was gone; one of the explosions must have been underneath him. He went to the carriage door, but something caught his eye. On the other side was a hooded figure with a white mask. The figure was crouched down, unaware of Suran. Without warning, Suran vaulted over the carriage.

 

The figure took notice and sprinted away. Suran pursued. He followed him through the smog and up the depression. Right on his tail, he chased him through the smoke that turned from the dirty black into a foggy white. Until he punctured through into clear air. The mysterious figure was gone. There wasn’t a trace of him. Suran went back to the carriage with haste.

 

The carriage door was jammed, broken and bent from explosion. Suran fiddled with it, trying to pry it open, but he was unable to open it. He resorted to his sword. He took it out and used it as a level to crack it open. It crossed his mind that using a sword as a level wasn’t the best idea – could break his only weapon. But, he would gladly give up a weapon for the chance to save a life. The door broke open and the sword came out without any noticeable damage. With his hands, he finished the job and pried it open.

 

It was as he feared; it was as if a storm of razors whirled around inside the cabin. Several corpses resided inside, torn to shreds from metal and force. To Suran’s astonishment, Prince Harold was still alive. The Prince slowly turned his head and painfully gazed at Suran. He clutched his abdomen where a metal rod ran through. From the waist down, the Prince’s body was missing (maybe not missing, the leg over at the side might be his), entrails spilling out. The boy, who looked no more than 17 or 18, was fated for death. Suran held no power to help nor words to ease. He sat with him in silence, until he met his end moments later. Suran closed his eyes and left.

 

Climbing out of the ditch, he was greeted by a host of soldiers. They rudely pointed their weapons and barked at him. They demanded his name. He gave it to him. They asked what he was doing. He explained. Suran’s records were verified by bystanders who saw what happened and by a soldier who whisked past him and confirmed what was down in the ditch. The group intended to arrest and detain Suran, but a commanding officer entered the scene and navigated with a cooler head. After documenting Suran’s information and account, he was let go. The officer then scolded his men, telling them that they should worry about helping the injured and wounded and not harassing samaritans who were simply trying to help.

 

Suran went out into the plaza. At one point, people flooding out, desperately trying to save their own life. Now, people were rushing in, working to save the lives of others. Still, it was bittersweet; lives would be saved, but it would be too few compared to the already staggering amount of lifeless bodies. Natalya and Iylia approached him as he stood and surveyed the scene. “How did it go?’ He asked them

 

“You would not believe what Iylia did!” Natalya bobbed around excited. Her eyes were wide as she praised Iylia with no context. The star of the moment shrunk in spot.

 

“What happened?”

 

Natalya swung her arm over Iylia and brought her up, “She was amazing! She was able to patch some people up pretty well, and she used healing magic to fix some wounds!”

 

“Is this true?” Suran asked, pleasantly surprised.

 

Iylia shook her head and said in almost a whisper, “I d-didn’t do much… Only a few people with m-minor wounds…”

 

“Don’t sell yourself short!” Natalya playful reprimanded, giving her a friendly push.

 

“Either way, good job,” Suran said. “Now, let’s leave. There is something I want to see.” Before the attack, he heard a man talk about a tournament that was to be held today. The prince was supposed to hold the opening ceremony so that part was ruined, be he was curious about the rest of it. Participating in an arena, possibly fighting to the death, sounded dangerous, but there could also be a hefty reward attached to it.

 

He was growing used to the city; he felt he knew his was around much better. Natalya was complaining that Suran was taking wrong turns (she was counting them out, currently at four), but Suran wasn’t actively listening to her. Travelling through a city filled with so many sights and sounds and people made a part of him nostalgic. Memories were a fickle thing – he hated how they worked. Natalya went in front and lead the way. She brought them to the arena rather quickly.

 

The area was surrounded with restaurants and clubs, but the streets were empty. A strange sight for a city with millions of people. The air felt heavy as they approached the arena. Outside, few men where shuffling around, moving boxes and other items. Skirting the outside, Suran found the main entrance and went in.

 

He needed information, so he headed to an office compartment that was situated in the front. No one was there. He looked around. There was no one to be found. On the front desk, there was a bell. It rang twice as he tapped it.

 

A man with a shaggy beard staggered out of a back room and asked, “Can I help you?” There was no energy in his voice.

 

“I wanted information on the tournament,” Suran answered.

 

“Do you now?” The man walked up and plopped down on a seat at the desk. “What’s your name?”

 

“Suran.”

 

“Well, Suran, the tournament was delayed for five days.”

 

“What type of tournament is it? Would it be possible to enter?”

 

“Looking to enter?” The man scrunched up his face plunged his hand into his beard to scratch chin. “Since it was pushed back, I guess so. The rules are pretty simple. All the entrants will be separated into different pools of equal numbered participants. On the first day, the pools stage will involve a free-for-all with all the participants in the pool. Knock-out will result in a loss. Death as well. Forfeiture mid round is allowed. A time limit will be set, and all the surviving entrants will be seeded and moved to a bracketed stage. Coin will be awarded at the end of each round to the participants. The amount will be determined by the value of the equipment gathered at the end and the number of fallen combatants on top of a base amount. Any questions?”

 

“How does the money look like?”

 

The man studied Suran. “Getting to the bracketed stage could mean a couple of gold, depending.”

 

“How tough is the competition.

 

“Beats me,” he said with a shrug. “We got some regulars, some new faces, some big names. It was supposed to be a big one this time.”

 

If he wanted to get coin fast, this seemed to be his option. Worst case scenario, he can forfeit if things get rough. “Alright, I would like to register.

 

The man yawned, “Okay. Let me get the papers. The entry fee is five silver.”

 

Suran rummaged through his pockets and remembered he had no coin. “Natalya, do you have enough?”

 

Natalya pulled out a coin purse and pulled out five silver coins, “Yeah I got a couple of gold, remember?”

 

“…How much do you have?” Suran asked as he scooped up the coins.

 

“Just a few. Not enough for the trip, if that’s what you want to know!”

 

The man hobbled back with few papers in hand. “Fill out these papers for me and that will be all. Ask if you have any questions. The name’s Dale.”

 

Suran took a writing utensil from the desk and began to fill it in. They were simple questions asked name, age, origin, and so on. He answered what he could and passed them back with the coin.

 

He looked over it, snorted, and said, “You left some of these blank.”

 

“I answered what I could.”

 

“Whatever,” he said with a tired laugh. “I don’t really care. You listed a sword as your registered weapon. I’ll need to see it.” Suran drew his sword and placed it in front of him. He whistled and said, “Wow, I’ve never seen a sword like this before. Who was the craftsmen? Where they even humanoid?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Dale laughed with a little bit more energy, “All good, my friend. The tournament, as of now, will start five days from now at noon. Be here about an hour or two before and the staff will go over the rules and pools and all the formalities.”

 

Suran nodded his head, “Thanks. Also, can we bring armor?”

 

“Sure. Only weapons need to be registered.”

 

Five days until the tournament. There was much he could do to fill up that time, Suran pondered. There might be some quests at the Guild he could do, but he dismissed the idea. He felt it would be best to prepare for this event. He was lacking in armor and protection, a crucial component when engaging in combat. His sword was of great quality. But he knew nothing about it. The more he knew about the weapon, the better he could use it. It annoyed him that he couldn’t spend more time investigating the mysterious blade. Where did the blade came from? What is this black material it’s made of? How can the sword perform such odd feats? Difficult questions, but ones that must have an answer somewhere. He picked up and stashed the sword in the ill-fitting sheath he pilfered long ago. Perhaps, he mused, the best use of his time was learning how to even use a sword. One of the many things that he currently did not know; this world was full of unknowns for him. There was much he could do, learn, and explore, yet only five days before it was time.

Chapter 30 – Three M’s

Hundreds of years have passed since the birth of Valeryia. Since then, it accumulated leagues of land, nurtured a prospering population, and amassed volumes of annals. As the country grew, so too did its needs. It needed officers for times of war. Doctors to tend to the sick. Architects to build cities. Mages to grapple with the arcane. The kings of old saw these needs, and so they pooled the Kingdom’s resources and established a college in the heart of Valeryia, an institution without equal for hundreds of leagues. Named after the old Valeryian hero Efrain, it stood as a beacon of knowledge, guiding the Kingdom’s youth.

 

Years ago, to accommodate its growth, the Efrain College of Valcadia was split into two campuses: The Efrain College campus for general studies and subjects and the Mage College of Valcadia campus for magic and arcane subject matter. Reginald led the group to the Mage College. His friend – described as an archaeologist of sorts – was a professor and academic employed there.

 

The atmosphere changed. Suran noticed more and more young adults out on the streets. The stores and scenery seemed more vibrant and full of a color – a clear contrast to the rest of the city. Standing above the youthful district was a clock tower. Reginald led Suran through the buildings and into a clear and he saw that underneath the clock tower sprawled an open campus with green fields and building complexes.

 

“I wonder if this is the right way…” Reginald muttered as he walked through the open green under the tower. “It has been a long time since I last visited him,” he said jokingly. Eventually, he stopped aimlessly searching and asked someone for directions, leading the group to an old, almost run-down, brick building.

 

They entered the building and were greeted by a typical, stuffy, old administration building. Reginald found a directory and scanned through it before heading off through musty halls. He led everyone up two flights of stairs past offices, past the odd classroom or two, and through several workspaces. He stopped in front of an old wooden door decorated by a dingy gold plaque that read ‘Mortimer Schachtschneider’.

 

“Let me go in first and talk to him if he is here,” Reginald said. “He will need to be warmed up a bit before he will talk to anyone.”

 

“Will there be a problem?” Suran asked.

 

Reginald popped a half smile, “Well… he’s just a little odd.” He knocked on the door and heard a ‘come in’. Opening the door, Reginald slipped in, leaving Suran, Natalya, and Iylia waiting outside. They waited patiently outside and Reginald came back out a moment later with a pleased smile. “He’s willing to hear you out, come on in.” Stepping to the side, Reginald let Suran walk past and into the room.

 

Sitting in a chair just too little space, wearing glasses that fit one size too big for his eyes, sporting a pointy hat with a circumference a hair too much, an old man with the most skeptical of beady eyes eyed him from behind a wooden desk that was an inch or two too high. One by one, everyone filed into the room.

 

“Here they are,” Reginald announced to Mortimer.

 

Mortimer slunk into his chair and said in a low whisper, “You didn’t say there would be this many people…”

 

“Oh it’s fine! You’ll only being dealing with him,” Reginald pointed Suran out.

 

Suran nodded his head as a greeting and said, “The name is Suran.”

 

“I know,” Mortimer said. “I’m Mortimer. So did you want something?” The man pushed up his spectacles.

 

“Didn’t Reginald tell you why I was here?”

 

“He did, but I didn’t get what he was saying.”

 

“…You want me to tell you?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Suran walked over and pulled up a chair in front of the desk. He took a seat and began. He quickly explained, telling Mortimer only the most relevant information. From his world, he was forcibly evicted and sent to a different realm. It was hazy from there, but he next found himself here.

 

Mortimer listened to the story intently and then said, “So what do you want me to do?”

 

“I need help getting back.”

 

“Okay.” He just looked at Suran and shrugged, “Just go back the way you came.”

 

“I don’t know how I got here?”

 

“How don’t you know? If you don’t know, then how am I supposed to know?”

 

Suran, confused, looked over to Reginald, who was as amused as he was confused. “Reginald said that, with your line of work, you’d be able to help.”

 

“I’m an arcane archaeologist. All I do is research old magic spells and items.”

 

“Mortimer,” Reginald called out, “He wants to know if you know any magic spells or magical items that could help him get back to his home.”

 

Perplexed, Mortimer asked, “Why didn’t he just say so?” He rustled through his overly large desk and began pulling out dilapidated notebooks that look as if a non-artistic child made it into a scrapbook.  The man opened one up and cursed silently as random piece of papers fell out and began stroking his bushy white beard as he perused his notes. “I know of some stuff, but it’s not helpful.”

 

“What do you mean?” Suran straightened out and shifted towards the edge of his chair.

 

“It’s called archaeology for a reason; all the stuff I find is super old so it’s either incomplete in nature or left ineffective due to time. You learn a lot of cool stuff though.” He stopped at a page in his notebook. “For example, many records show that the Demon race pioneered summoning magic – a masterful extension of normal teleportation techniques – and used it to great effect, bringing forth strange beings and creatures from different realms.”

 

“Is there a reason that can’t work?”

 

“You wouldn’t know, but the Demon race is extinct. Or have been for the last 2,000 years. Much of their technology and magic went with them. What’s left is the bottom of the barrel we get to scrape off and use, so summoning magic is something that’s far off. Not to mention, you would be looking to reverse such a process, which could make things complicated.”

 

“Okay, what else do you have?”

 

Mortimer whipped out a large, encyclopedic book and began sifting through it. “Good news: there’s one more thing.” He stopped at a page. “Bad news, it’s a lost Sacred Treasure.”

 

“Sacred Treasure?”

 

“That’s right, you don’t know. Sacred Treasures are items of unparalleled power and ability – only other Sacred Treasures being able to properly match them. Their origins are literally divine; no race, no craftsmen in history, has ever created anything that could resemble a Sacred Treasure in all ways. Get close in one aspect, and you fail in another.”

 

Items of divine origins put Suran in thought. Was this world really such a place, a place where gods existed? “Why would the item being a ‘Sacred Treasure’ be bad news?”

 

“There’s only one of it. And it’s been lost for probably several hundred years.”

 

“What is this ‘Sacred Treasure’ you are talking about anyways?”

 

“Freymar’s Gate. It is said to open doors to new worlds, new possibilities, and to bring the user to whatever it is that they seek.”

 

“That sounds… too good to be true.” Suran wanted to believe this could be his solution, but he couldn’t help but be skeptical.

 

“Well, no one has found it for the past hundred years. The amount of information on it could fit one paragraph. And, it’s entirely possible that the Sacred Treasure won’t do as advertised; their abilities can vary with the wielder.”

 

Suran thought for a moment and asked, “Are there any other options?”

 

“Don’t know. If it is, it’s lost, and the only way to find it is to go looking for it. As for contemporary solutions, I wouldn’t know. Then again, I’d imagine any sort of summoning magic or ability would be widely discussed if it was out there.”

 

“Would it be possible to find this gate?”

 

“A possibility exists.”

 

“Alright, tell me what you know.” What other option did he have but this one?

 

Mortimer looked down at his notes, read them for a moment, then looked back up to Suran and said, “Freymar, the original wielder, was a Dwarf that lived during the Kath-al-Ur period, over 2,000 years. In the proceeding wars in chaos of the period, it was lost. There are sparse collections over the centuries of claims of it being found, but no claims could be verified and were consequently written off.”

 

“Is that it?” Suran inquired after waiting for me.”

 

The old mage plainly said, “I said it would fit in one paragraph.”

 

“What would it take to find the gate?”

 

“You wouldn’t be able to find it. Someone like me would have to help.”

 

“Then can you help me find it?”

 

“Not for free.”

 

“Fine. What do you want?”

 

“I want you to help me find Freymar’s gate.”

 

Tilting his head, Suran looked around in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m an archaeologist. My job is to find old stuff, research it, dissect it, and modernize my learnings so other people can use it. Problem is, the college hasn’t given me – or anyone – any funding. I haven’t been able to a dig site in years. I am unable to do what I want to do. So here’s the deal: help me do what I want to do, and I’ll help you look for whatever it is you are looking for as long as I know I can look for it.”

 

“So you’ll help as long as you can do your archaeology work?”

 

“Yes, but you have to handle the logistics. Funding, travel, protection, so on.”

 

“Deal. Where do we start?”

 

Mortimer whipped out a scroll and spread it out on his desk. “We start with this!” Before everyone was a massive map a continent with red X’s and notes scribbled all over it. “I may not have been able to go out, but I keep track of what’s going on.” He began to point out various locations on the map, “These are the sites related to Dwarves from oldest to newest. If we want more information, our best bet would be to look through Dwarven literature and records.”

 

Suran analyzed the map, finding where they were located on the map and comparing it to all the markings. “Is there any site you think would be the best?”

 

“How about this one,” he said while pointing to an X on the map.

 

“Alright,” Suran said. The X was relatively close compared to the others, situated in a mountain range in a territory marked as ‘Nosirion’. “Any reason why?”

 

“Not really. It’s close. It’s a joint dig in the area controlled by the Dragons and Dwarves. Reports say the site is at least 1,500 years old. Only issue is, people have been saying bad things have been happening there.’

 

“Bad things?”

 

“It’s normal to find monsters and stuff in ruins, but I heard some bad monsters are being found there. Not the normal zombies, skeletons, critters, or whatever.”

 

Suran nodded his head, “That’s fine. I think we can handle it.” Depending on how dangerous the inhabitants are, Suran thought it might be a good idea to get extra muscle. There was no reason to cut corners and risk everyone’s lives.

 

“Great. Then all we need is the supplies. We will need transportation of some sort like a horse, a carriage or wagon, digging supplies, food and drink to last the few week journey, funds to continually stock up while we carry out the dig, and anything else you may need like weapons, guides, or extra arms.”

 

“Alright,” Suran mentally noted the list, “how much do you think we will need?”

 

“I don’t know; I never messed with money. A couple gold at least. Maybe a dozen?”

 

Reginald whistled from the corner, “That’s no amount to laugh at.”  Running the numbers and conversion rates in his mind, Suran confirmed that the amount wasn’t small by any stretch. He found himself, again, in a spot where money was a problem.

He frowned in his seat. So far, the only way he knew how to make money was to go through the Adventure’s Guild and complete their requests. From the few requests and tasks he saw, someone like him accumulating that much gold wasn’t going to be easy. It would be time consuming and almost certainly a bother. Suran got up from his chair and asked Mortimer, “If we need you, will you be here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“We don’t have the funds right now. When I do, I’ll come back.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Mortimer sat in his chair and despondently looked at him. There was a discomforting emptiness and bleakness in his gaze. Suran motioned to everyone else in the room and left the aging wizard to his own devices. When they were outside Mortimer’s office, exiting the building, Suran asked Reginald, “I must know: how did you get to be acquaintances with such a man?”

 

The lord chuckled. “When I was your age, did you think I sat around all day?” Reginald gazed ahead, fixated on something far off. “Once upon a time, I was quite the traveler, and I found myself with Mortimer many a time.” He sighed, “Now I’m old and the most I can do is watch others.”

 

“Such is life,” Suran blandly reassured him. “Anyways, do you have any idea where we can find the money?”

 

“Try the guild? Other than that, I can’t help. You’re on your own for this one since my wealth is stretched thin as is, even with the King’s reward.”

 

Suran clicked his tongue in annoyance. Always needing money was frustrating, but unfortunately, that is how this world works. One could bet nearly every world, every society, would work this way. They left the college office building. He was ready to grind it out if needed. But, he also flirted with the idea of just selling the house and hopefully being done with it so he could move on.

Busy

I work at a tax firm so I’ve been pretty busy with a deadline on the 15th. Tried to get some stuff out, but haven’t had time to finish anything meaningful. After the 15th and before my finals I should be able to put some more stuff out

 

 

Chapter 29 – Samawi

The High Elf was offered freedom, but the slave rejected emancipation. In the back of his mind, Suran wondered if the choice was her own and not the will of the slave spell that latched her to him. Hundreds of other slaves sat in the warehouse. Would they have all rejected the same proposal? He half-heartedly hoped they would; he shuddered at what it would mean for her to be the only one who denied freedom. For now, Iylia was his responsibility.

 

He took the free chair and sat in front of her. Waiting for Natalya. “Do you have anything you want to ask me?” He asked optimistically, trying to kill time. Her head movement said no. While she sat there like a finely chiseled statue, Suran squirmed in his seat like a word, uneased by the deafening silence. Idle chatter was a terrifying beast.

 

Natalya finally walked through the door. Suran let out a sigh of relief; he was saved. She came over holding folded fabric. “Slavers know nothing about style, but, then again, I didn’t know what I was expecting” she held out a plain white slip dress. “The fitting might be poor and the color a little dull, but it’s the best they got,” she shrugged. Iylia looked at the dress. Then at Natalya. Then at Suran. She acknowledged the existence of the dress.

 

“The dress is for you. It would not be good to go around wearing those tatters so put it on.” Iylia got up and began to shed her tatters without hesitation. “Wait, hold on!” Suran called out to stop her. Iylia froze. Almost naked. “Let me leave the room first then put on the clothes.”

 

Suran began to leave the room, but Natalya stopped him and teased, “What’s wrong? She’s just changing her clothes – you don’t have to be a prude!” Her joshing grin indicated she knew exactly she was doing.

 

“Not a prude – it’s a matter of decency,” retorted Suran. On the surface, Iylia did not seem to care; she remained frozen mid-strip. What worried him was what was hiding under the surface. He didn’t expect her to act so unreservedly, but, then again, she was faithfully carrying out his instructions. He would have to be more careful in the future. For her sake.

 

Natalya let up her grin and began giggling, “Yeah, yeah, I know! I was just messing with you!”

 

He coldly said, “Don’t do that.” Natalya pouted. “Come outside when you’re done changing,” he motioned to Iylia. He turned and left the room. Outside, two Reginalds chatted.

 

Upon his approach, Wylin greeted him with his grating smile, “So, how is she?”

 

“Henry, we will be heading to the Guild next.” Suran paid no mind to Wylin who muttered ‘how cruel’ for being ignored. Natalya and Iylia came out of the room a moment later. Her simple white dress was a little dirty and its fitting was a little small, but it was a clear step up from rags. He nodded his head and said “Let’s go,” and went to the exit.

 

“Have fun and take care!” Wylin said as they all walked away, waving his hand. “Hope to do business with you again…”

He derided the offer. If he ever came back here, it would be to dismantle this business, not add to it. He left the slave warehouse. “Do you know how to get to the Adventure’s Guild from here,” Suran asked Reginald.

 

Henry nodded his head, “Yes, of course. Since we’re by the docks, the Guild isn’t too far from here.”

 

Out on the road, Suran looked at the docks. It was hard to call it a harbor anymore; only charred debris and rubble from buildings and pier were there. A rock sunk in his stomach and he asked, “What happened here that night?”

 

“An inferno consumed the coast,” he said, shaking his head. “A cost in coin that dwarfed the wealth of many. A cost in life far greater than the Kingdom is willing to admit.”

 

“Let’s leave.” Suran turned away. Reginald led the way.

 

True to his words, the Guild was close. The hall was busy; adventures bustled about. He spied open counters at the front and a mess hall to the right. He rummaged through his pockets and frowned. Not one coin was found. “Natalya, do you have money?”

 

“Yup.”

 

She still had the money from selling her home, surprisingly. “Can you buy Iylia food from over there?” He motioned to the area of the guild where people were ordering food and drinks. “I’ll take care of the guild business with Reginald.”

 

“Sounds good!” Natalya happily agreed. “I’ve been craving something to eat as well…” Natalya grabbed Iylia’s arm, catching her by surprise, and dragged her off.

 

Suran and Reginald walked up to an open counter. A girl with a red vest came up, “Hello, my name is Susan and welcome to the Guild. How may I help you today?”

 

Reginald spoke for Suran, “He would like to register a company with the guild. I will vouch for him to waive the administrative fees.”

 

“Very well. Allow me to get the proper forms.” Susan took a slight bow and excused her from the counter.

 

“Do all companies need to register with the Adventure’s Guild?” Suran asked Reginald while waiting.

 

“Not at all. You only need to register with the guild if you want to do business with them. Many companies and business owners don’t bother going through the Guild since they just don’t need to.”

 

“I see.” A clock ticked. People left. He waited. On the counter was a bell and he moved his hand to ring it. He was interrupted by a bunch of papers sliding in front of him.

 

“Apologies for the wait! Please fill out these forms and we will have you on your way!” Someone not Susan spoke to Suran. In her place was a different young lady with tied-back golden hair.

 

Suran looked around. “Where is Susan?”

 

“She suffered an unfortunate accident,” the woman said with a cheery smile. “She won’t be helping anyone now. I hope you find that I, Jeanne Gagnon, will be an acceptable replacement.” She courteously lowered her head.

 

He furrowed his brow. Her words were suspect, but her smile was disarming. “Very well then,” picking up a pen from the counter, he began shuffling through the paperwork and filling it out.

 

“Is there any paperwork for me?” Reginald inquired, looking over Suran’s shoulder.

 

“There won’t be any,” Jeanne said, “The fees were already waived by another.”

 

Suran stopped scribbling and looked at Reginald with perplexion. Henry shrugged; he didn’t know who could have done that. It wasn’t worth worrying about, so Suran went back to the forms. It asked for members of the company. He listed himself, Iylia, and Natalya. It asked for the main address or headquarter of the organization. He got the address of the house from Reginald and listed it. Suran mindlessly went through the questions. At the same time, he popped questions at Jeanne to get a better understanding of how the guild and these companies work.

 

Jeanne explained that a company can employ or add anyone to it without going through the guild – like all the other companies and groups that act outside of the Guild’s influence. But, to work with the guild, the individuals need to be registered. Setting up a company with a guild lets its members gain Guild clearance easier and cheaper. There were other benefits to registering through the guild and not through the Kingdom’s records alone; the Guild is a multi-national organization, making it easier to work and establish a presence across borders due to the Guild’s influence. It was interesting, to hear about the different jobs and tasks the Guild deals with. From hunting dangerous and rabid monsters and animals that disturb the peace to clearing out and exploring the depths of lost ruins. The scope of the guild was impressively large.

 

He went through the forms, and, near the end, one final questioned stumped him. It asked: what is the name of the company? It was hard to remember, but there was a time where he once felt free. Nothing weighed him down and the stars guided him. He put pen to paper and wrote ‘Samawi’. An old word he barely recalled, but it felt fitting.

 

With the forms complete, he pushed them towards Jeanne. She happily collected and reviewed them. After looking through them she said, “All the forms are in order. Now if you could gather the rest of your members, I will finalize the registration.”

 

Suran went off to go grab Natalya and Iylia while Reginald waited at the counter. At the other side of the Guild among the clatter of utensils and the chatter of men, Natalya and Iylia were sitting quietly with their gazed fixed upon each other as if they were engaged in a heated staring contest. “What’s going on?” He asked as he approached the table.

 

“You know,” Natalya said with a tinge of disappointment, “I told her she could get whatever she wanted and however much she wanted, and you know what she did?”

 

“What?”

 

“She ordered the wateriest soup with the blandest toast in the tiniest portion.”

 

“Why did she do that?”

 

“She didn’t say. She didn’t say anything, actually. She still hasn’t said anything.” Natalya pouted in her chair and crossed her arms while Iylia sat stoic.

 

“Can’t be helped,” Suran shrugged. “If you’re done, come with me. There’s one last thing that needs to be done before we can leave.” The two got up and followed Suran back to the counter. He presented the two to Jeanne, “We are all here now.”

 

“So these two beautiful ladies are your companions?” Jeanne asked. For a brief moment, Suran thought Jeanne’s warm smile was replaced with a scowl of pure rage. It came and went like a flash, almost like an illusion. She placed three blank cards in front of them with a prick next to them. “Last is to create your Guild membership cards. Prick your thumb and dab your thumb into the box on the right of the card. Using the latest technology, the card will generate a portrait of you in the box on the left. After that, fill in the accompanying personal information in between and that would be it.”

 

Suran went first since he was skeptical; he wondered if the card would really generate his image with a print of his bloodied thumb. He pricked his thumb, let the blood flowed, and stamped his thumb print neatly on the card. The card shimmered, and, in the left box, a shoulder-up portrait of him inked itself in the box. Following suit, Iylia and Natalya made their own cards for themselves. After that, an additional set was made for the Guild’s records.

 

Jeanne collected the Guild’s set and said, “With that, you are done! The free company, Samawi,” she struggled to say the name, “With Suran Ibrahim as its leader, is now established! We, the Guild, will handle the rest of the paperwork on our end to finalize it. If there are any problems, I will contact you. From now on, I will be your liaison between you and the guild, so I will be looking forward to working with you in the future!”

 

“Alright then. Thanks.” Suran took his card and began to leave the Adventure’s Guild with everyone following him.

 

“It was great working with you again!” Jeanne called out as they walked away.

 

Suran turned around, “Again?”

 

“We spoke over a week ago when you first came,” she cheerfully explained. “A lot has happened since then, but I pride myself in my good memory!”

 

There was an inkling of familiarity to her, Suran thought, and he vaguely recalled the short conversation he had with her all those days ago. “Look forward to working with you more, then,” Suran said. Her face glowed with vibrance. Leaving her at her counter, the group of four left the Adventure’s Guild behind.

 

The Baron took the lead out on the streets. “Now, the Mage College is next. Let’s see if my old friend is in…”

Chapter 28 – Iylia

As the three walked down the streets of Valcadia, Natalya tugged on Suran’s shoulder, and he dropped back a few steps behind the Baron to match her pace. “So you’re from a different world?” She asked almost teasingly.

 

Suran quickened his pace. “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” he curtly replied.

 

She sped up to catch up to him, “I wasn’t listening the whole time, and I didn’t want to walk into the middle of your serious conversation and interrupt everything.”

 

Natalya was struggling to keep up with him, so Suran sighed and slowed down. “It’s fine, I guess. Next time know you don’t have to exclude yourself from our conversations.”

 

“Eh, what wasn’t what I had in mind, but okay. What all did you talk about?”

 

“It was mainly about where I’m from, what to do next, and the house.”

 

“Wait, what about the house?”

 

“You didn’t hear? The house we have been staying at, Reginald’s home, is now mine. He acquired Hendrick von Auer’s estate, so he is moving to a new home and giving me this one.”

 

“Cool, can I live there?”

 

Suran almost stopped walking as he was caught off guard by the question. It was rather sudden, but as he thought about it, he didn’t find a reason to deny her. “There are plenty of rooms, so I don’t see why not.” Natalya seemed satisfied with the answer and began to hum. To be honest, the result ended up pleasing Suran as well. Even though he did now have a house, there was no guarantee he would use it. It seemed probable his search may take him all over this world, and it would be for the best if Natalya used this opportunity to stay here and followed her own pursuits, free of the trouble that may come from following him.

 

“Anyways,” Natalya resumed the conversation, “Do you know where we’re going?

 

“Where exactly, I don’t know, but I believe we are picking up a reward Reginald had prepared for me on behalf of the King.”

 

“Right you are,” Reginald chimed in from the front. “We are almost there, so I might as well explain. The reason why rewarding you with just a house isn’t enough, even though it is a nice home might I say, is because it is technically incomplete. In the world of lords and nobles and the rich, all these large estates and manors almost always have one more thing: servants or slaves.” He stopped outside of a large warehouse. “So it would reflect poorly on me to not essentially present a complete reward.”

 

Suran looked around. Just down the road he could see the harbor, or what remained of it. “Where are we?”

 

“We are at the establishment of my cousin Wylin. He has a lot of fine product, and you have the opportunity to get your pick of the litter.”

 

Without hesitation, Suran said, “I cannot agree with slaver; I do not want to own slaves.”

 

Reginald was about to say something, but a portly man sporting a tuxedo walked out and said with a wide smile, “Are you sure?” Everyone could see his unkempt teeth from his ear-to-ear grin.

 

“Wylin, good to see you!” Reginald exclaimed and the two embraced in a brotherly hug.

 

“Great to see you, cousin.” Wylin released himself from Reginald and went to Suran, appraising him. ‘So you don’t want slaves, eh?”

 

Suran did not waver while under inspection, “I am opposed to slavery.” It was barbaric practice, one that he could never support.

 

“We shall see about that,” Wylin said slyly. He went over to the massive warehouse and opened up a door. “Why don’t we talk inside.” His never fading smile could not dispel the almost palatable devious aura it emitted. Suran looked over to Henry Reginald, who nodded in agreeance with Wylin. Reluctantly, Suran walked into the warehouse.

 

What hit him first was not what was in the warehouse, it was poorly lit with most of the lighting coming from skylight on the high ceiling making it difficult to clearly see anything, but the nauseous smell that permeated through the air. It was a disgusting concoction that hid each of its components, making it difficult for Suran to tell what was making it. However, he could barely distinguish the odor of blood, sweat, and man.

 

The door closed behind him and Wylin walked up next to him and said, “Are you sure you don’t want a slave now?” Suran’s eyes grew adjusted to the dark and he saw rows of cages. Walking forward, he peered into the cages and continued to be disgusted. Men and women were shackled and bound in the cage, their malnourished bodies visible underneath pitiful excuses of rags.

 

“I’m sure.” The scene before him only cemented his disgust with the practice.

 

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Wylin said, strolling past Suran while shrugging. “I guess I will keep them in their cages and sell them to whomever comes by.” He went up to a cage and slapped his hand on it causing the metal to vibrate. The creature inside recoiled from the disturbance. “If you don’t take the generous gift my cousin arranging for you, I’m sure I can find someone else to take them on. You would be surprised how many uses people find for these things. Some are used for hard labor, while others as a toy.” He took of his pair of spectacles and cleaned it with a cloth he pulled out from his coat pocket, “I’ve gotten to know quite a few of my clients since they… wear out their products very fast.”

Suran was growing agitated as he listened to the weasel. He saw through Wylin; he was trying to coax him into accepting the offer by emphasizing the distress of these poor individuals. Suran did not intend to play his game. “Then give me one. I will immediately release them.”

 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Wylin clicked, zooming up to Suran, “That won’t do at all. The gift is from my property, and I would not want to see it wasted like that. If you so happen to release it, I wouldn’t hesitate to reclaim my goods.” He swung around Suran and grabbed onto Henry Reginald’s shoulder who seemed unfazed by the happenings, “Besides, I don’t think that would work out well for Henry here, would it?”

 

Henry shook his head, “The King and his men are thorough. They would most likely interpret that sort of behavior as a tort on my part, regardless of what you might say.”

 

“And we both know what that means my dear friend,” Wylin picked up without dropping a beat. “The Black Paladins are not a forgiving bunch, and they would not hesitate to kill my poor cousin in an instant. Besides, since you are so against slavery, maybe you will take better of care of your property better than some of my other clients.”

 

Suran grit his teeth. This was a battle he was not going to win, but something felt off. Wylin seemed to be trying hard to get Suran to accept. The question was why. Was it out of concern for the life of his family member? To the average person, maybe. Behind those spectacles of his were a pair of scheming eyes. Suran convinced himself there had to be another reason behind this. He could not figure it out. He gave in. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, “I’ll pick one.”

 

“Glad you saw reason,” Wylin trotted out in front once more. “Come with me and let us look through my wares.”

 

Suran dragged his feet as he followed. His continual to refer to these people as wares didn’t stop bothering him.

 

He walked past the cages with Wylin. They were small and cramped. A grown person would not be able to stand in them. He saw full grown men and women to small children not even in their teens stored away. What’s more, is that he got more of a taste of this world; there were more than just humans locked in these cages. Like Keira, he saw men and women with cat like features, ears and tails. Some more cat-like than others. But that wasn’t all, there were several humanoids with animal like features, but those with feline or canine features were the most common.

 

Wylin was happily explaining everything Suran surveyed. Each ‘item’, as he called it, had different skills and abilities. There were pieces of paper attached to each cage like a price tag that identified the race, sex, age, inherent skills, and so on of the slave within. As he went on, he saw more and more. Beings identified as ‘Dwarf’ or ‘Wood Elf,’ or “High Elf’ and even strange beasts and animals: abnormally large wolves, moving mounds of rock titled ‘golems’, a humanoid beast with several horns, and others.

 

“Having trouble choosing?” Wylin teased as he showed Suran around. Suran didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. There was no way he could simply choose someone. Wylin continued, “I’m here to help if you need anything; I know my product best.” Suran couldn’t even begin to trust the man. Asking him for advice was far out of the question.

 

“Hey Suran, what about her?” Surprisingly, Natalya made a suggestion while squatting in front of a cage.

 

Suran walked over and asked, “You’re ok with this?”

 

“Why not?” She shrugged. “Besides, she’s got red eyes like you,” she said, pointing into the cage.

 

Suran hunched over in looked inside. It was fairly dark in the cage, but he could make out crimson eyes. She was almost right, he mused to himself; his eyes were more of a blood red than a crimson. “Is having red eyes rare?” He asked aloud.

 

“Exceedingly rare in the humanoid species, especially in High Elves,” Wylin chimed in. “Finally interested?”

 

Suran walked away from the cage towards Wylin. He wasn’t enjoying this process, but he had to get through with it at some point. “What can you tell me about her?”

 

There was a twinkle in his eyes, “What do you want to know?” Wylin swung over to the girl’s cage. “This one is, as the tag says, a female High Elf. At around 55 years of age, which in human years is 22 to 23, she is at the prime of her youth. Also in great physical condition. If you asked me, I would have probably recommended her as well. She is fit for hard labor, can participate in combat, good for kids. You can find a lot of uses for this one here.” He adjusted the glasses on his face and eagerly waited for input from Suran. “I have to admit; this girl has a good pair of eyes – almost as good as mine!” He said with a sleazy chuckle.

 

For the average person, what he was saying did sound good, but Suran took everything he said with a grain of salt. “If she as good as you say,” Suran questioned, “then why has she not been taken by someone else?”

 

Wylin nearly jumped in surprise, “Oooh! Didn’t think I would have a smart shopper today!” He quickly reverted to a seller’s persona. “If you must know, there are a few reasons,” he said seemingly annoyed. “As you can see, this is a warehouse. I primarily deal in bulk sales and trades to individual vendors who go out and cater to more specific markets. It’s rare when someone comes in specifically for one item. In those cases, the client usually knows what they want, so with my expertise, they find themselves what best suits their need. As a respected merchant, I take pride in my work in my ability. I was even nicknamed ‘The Appraiser’ by my colleagues and clients for my ability at identifying talent, potential, and suitability, so I would never betray the trust of my clients by pushing a great product onto them when it isn’t what they want.”

 

Suran felt there was something missing, so he asked, “Is that all?”

 

Wylin was no longer annoyed; he instead, looked very smug. “My, you’re sharper than you seem. You’re right, there was one more issue. This one here,” he tapped on the cage, “is a queer one.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The unnatural red eyes for starters. High Elves are race generally set in their traditions and beliefs, and they see red eyes as unlucky, a bad omen, freakish, how ever you want to describe it.” Suran could sympathize with that. “Also, the white hair is an issue. Even though High Elves can have those lighter, silky, shiny hair colors, this type of pure white is also very unusual. Among her people, her looks were an aberration, giving her additional baggage.”

 

“So that’s how it is…” Suran felt pity for the girl.

 

Wylin shrugged, “So it was. Even though I would rate her at the top in looks and ability, no one wanted her, either in bulk sales or from the few individual purchases, so here she’s been.”

 

Suran could not help but feel the cruelty of subjecting economics onto the trade of people. Wylin rates her highly, so her price must have matched the assessment. A high price with no demand for someone like her. He still couldn’t accept he was going along with this. There was still much of the warehouse left to go through, but he had no desire to do so. “Take her out of the cage,” he instructed.

 

“Want a closer look?” Wylin made his way to the cage with his permanent grin.

 

“No, I will take her.”

 

“Even better!” Wylin called over one of his workers and he fished out a large iron ring filled with keys. He opened up the cage and gave the key to his assistant who entered it. Clangs rang out as her metal restraints fell to the floor. A moment later, the man came out, leading the girl with a chain attached to shackles on her wrists.

 

She came out of the cage and into the light of the warehouse. In that cage, she looked small, but when she stood straight, her size surprised Suran; she was at least two to three inches taller than him, and even taller than everyone else present. On her olive skin was a layer of dirt, dust, and grime. She had a strong, but not muscular, build that confirmed she was fit, Wylin was right, but throughout her body, he saw evidence of malnourishment. She was fed, but clearly not enough. Suran wondered how much her impeccable white hair and crimson eyes dissuaded others from taking her because the contrast between her light brown, olive skin with the hair and eyes gave her an undeniable charm and beauty.

 

Suran was not unsettled by her looks where others might have, but there was something that concerned him; she stood like a rock with zero signs of emotions. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t move. She held a dull face with her striking crimson eyes looking like empty glass. He was not sure how an enslaved person might act once they learned their fate, but her detachment from everything that was going on worried him.

“Wow!” Natalya ran up to her. “She’s bigger than me in more ways than one,” she said with a sly grin, checking her body out.

 

“Please don’t do that,” Suran chided her. Not only was this not the place for it, he thought, but it also was inappropriate. Still, as he stopped her, he watched for any reaction from the girl. There was none. He went up to Wylin and whispered to him, “Is she alright?”

 

“I told you she had baggage,” he replied with a shrug. “Now then,” Wylin said, speaking to the group, “Follow me to the back. It’s time to fit her with the spell.”

 

“There’s a spell?” Suran asked.

 

Wylin reeled a little in shock, “You don’t know? Slaves are fitted with a spell that binds them to their owner. Once in place, you can control their emotions and actions without fear of retaliation or insubordination. You best remember that too because Valcadia is the slave capital of the North. We are at the forefront of slave technology; we take a great deal of pride in our research and work.”

 

Suran couldn’t help but shake his head. Magic was a reality in this world he was still not use to, but he didn’t have to understand it to be disgusted by the means it was being used for. “Then let’s hurry up and go.” He didn’t want to spend any more time in here. Wylin pivoted around and led the group toward the shadowy back of the warehouse.

 

At the back was a comparted room. Wylin knocked on the door and there was a response from an airy old voice, “Come in.” He opened up the door to a spacious room stocked with books and a frail old man at a desk.

 

“He will take care of the spell for you,” Wylin told Suran. He tapped Henry’s shoulder and bade him outside, leaving Suran, Natalya, the girl, and the old man in the room.

 

“Don’t worry,” the old man said with a warm smile. “I’ve been doing this job for a long time, so I’ve gotten pretty good at this.” He waited for a response, but no one said anything. With a half-sigh, half-laugh, he got up from his chair, “No need to waste time, I guess.” The man shuffled over and took the girl. He worked on her shackles and popped them off, throwing them to the side. “Come with me, you two.” Both of you followed him to the center of the room that was clear of everything save for two chairs placed back to back. The man instructed them to sit down. “How do you want it?”

 

“Want what?”

 

“The spell, of course. You can have it strong and restrict their personalities and emotions, or you can make it lax giving them a little wiggle room. There is some variance, but the end result doesn’t really change. Even then, you will be able to control it to some degree, and you can always come back to me and I can retool it or adjust it to suit your needs.”

 

The entire spell wasn’t clear to Suran so he asked, “Can you explain what you mean by lax or strong?”

 

“I’m assuming this is your first time so sure. In any case, the slave will be bond to you, and will have to follow your commands to some degree. We have over the years fine-tuned the spell and the magic behind it so it works nearly all the time. In the few cases that the slave can resist it in, we incorporate safety mechanisms that dissuades them from not following your directive. As for your question, what this will affect is the general free will they will have in day-to-day life and carrying out your orders. On the lax side, they will complete the task but may take some liberty in doing so, and they have relative freedom to do other things should you not disallow. The stricter you get, the less they will do for themselves, and the more they will rely on your orders and rules to dictate their life. They will follow orders more cleanly and their emotions and personalities will be suppressed should they get in the way.”

 

Magic was as fascinating as it was scary. It’s supposed range in application and use made Suran uneasy. He would need to study the topic later. Going on without knowing just how much power and finesse magic is capable of would be treacherous. “I would prefer you make it lax in nature,” Suran requested without hesitation.

 

“Alrighty then! Just sit still…” His voice trailed off, and Suran began to feel a discomforting sensation through his body. The old man began muttering to himself, words and sentences whose meaning escaped Suran’s understanding. Even stranger, a dim light came from the bony fingers of the man. The light bobbed and weaved through the air and enveloped the space between Suran and the girl’s back. Throughout the process, he felt several discomforting pricks along his back and neck. At the same time, there was a slight sapping sensation that seemed to suck some of his strength straight out of him.

 

“Done!” The man concluded after several minutes. He left out a large sigh and slunk into his chair, “That was a lot tiring than I thought it would be; I had to work hard on you two for some reason.” He then began grumbling about his age. After collecting his breath, the man got back up, “I’m going to go grab lunch actually. You are free to go.” He shuffled out of the room, cracking his bones along the way.

 

It was done, and Suran felt something different, but he wasn’t sure what it was. If he concentrated, he could sense a sort of entity in the back of his mind – like a connection of sorts. However, it was hard to grasp. Something was there, but only if he concentrated. When he let his thoughts drift, it would quickly vanish. Not knowing what it was bothered him, but it wasn’t annoying at least.

 

He got up from his chair and went around to see how the girl was doing. She had the same dull face with a hint of exhaustion. “Are you feeling alright?” She certainly wasn’t vocal so far, so he felt he needed to take the initiative.

 

Slowly, she nodded her head. Suran was pleased; it was progress, but he wondered, was she answering because she wanted to, or because the spell was making her? He pushed those thoughts to the side. Worrying about them would do him no good. At any rate, he was now responsible for her. “Are you hungry?” She nodded her head again. “We have other places to go, but food can come first.” His other matters could wait. Who knows how long it has been since she had a proper meal. “First,” he said, contemplating her situation, “A bath might be in order to get you cleaned up. A proper set of clothes as well.” Getting washed could wait to the end of the day, but having her go out in tatters that barely covered her was not acceptable to him. “Natalya, would you mind seeing if Wylin has set of clothes for her?”

 

She understood the situation and energetically left the room. Now it was just him and her. “Now, I have an important question to ask you: do you want to be free?” Wylin and Henry might have some choice words for him asking this, but he didn’t care. He carefully watched her, but she did not respond. He clarified, “What I mean, is that if you ask for it, I will do my best to give you your freedom. You don’t have to be my slave or bound to me. You can be free to live your life the way you want it and I am willing to help you get settled if need be. The choice is yours.” He waited. She did not respond.

 

Suran stopped for a moment and wondered why she would not reply. Should it not be desirable for a slave to have their freedom? “Do you understand what I am asking you?” She immediately responded by nodding her head. It reassured Suran that she did understand what was going on, but he still found this strange. Perhaps she needed some time to think, so he remained quiet.

 

Several minutes passed and he asked again, “Do you want me to give you your freedom?” Slowly, she shook her head; she had rejected his proposition. Suran sighed. He had no other choice but to accept his circumstances now. As much as he found this arrangement disagreeable, it appeared she did not for some reason. He was, for better or for worse, now stuck.

 

No matter, he thought. He would simply have to live with it – and her – for now. In the middle of all this, Suran remembered he forgot to ask something, something he should have done from the start. “What is your name?”

 

The girl’s eyes were fixed to his feet, but she raised her head at the question. Her face held the dull expression, but there was a twitch of anxiety. For the first time her mouth opened and, shakily, words came out, “I-Iylia. Iylia Yevonis.” Her words were soft and hushed with a tinge of fright and fear.

 

“I am Suran Ibrahim. From now on you will be in my care.” She locked her gaze with his, but swiftly averted.

 

Twice, Wylin had mentioned the word ‘baggage’. Reflecting on his past, Suran thought of all the mistakes he made. He wanted desperately to undo his wrongs. Atone for his sins. This girl, Iylia, had her own past and world of problems that tormented her. He decided to help as best he could. She was just one girl with her own individual problems, but his crimes were numerous. His evils demanded amends, and he would pay for all of them – one at time if necessary.

Chapter 27 – The Step Forward

“How did it end up like this?”

 

“Our mistakes and failures brought us here.”

 

“You’re here?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“We don’t deserve to be in here,”

 

“We’ve done more than enough to be in this prison.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“You’re right. This isn’t just.”

 

…

 

“Should we fix this?”

 

“The only way would be to get out. Is that possible?”

 

“There was a way in.”

 

…

 

“Do we have a choice?”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Then I’ll do it.”

 

“Why not the both of us?”

 

“It wouldn’t work. Not without him, at least.”

 

“It would be better if he was here.”

 

“He is neither here nor there. We must make do without him.”

 

“Then let me do it. I cannot condone your methods.”

 

“I only did what was necessary to complete the task at hand.”

 

“It may have been necessary, but it was not acceptable.”

 

“Fine. You do not have the power I do. Can you do it?”

 

…

 

“Yes.”

 

“You will not know the things I can. Are you okay with losing that?”

 

…

 

“A sacrifice I am willing to make.”

 

“Then there is no time to waste.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Remember, I will be here, waiting. Should you falter, I will not hesitate to step in.”

 

“…I know.”

 

—-

 

He woke up at sunrise. Suran’s back and neck were throbbing with pain; jarring rocks did not make the best of beds. Ironing out the kinks would have to come later because it was time for him to get going. He put on his clothes which had tucked away to avoid dirtying them and went to pull out his sword. It took several tugs to free it from the rocks. Grabbing onto the rope, he hoisted himself up.

 

There was an icy rock sitting in his stomach. It was a queer feeling; his extremities were chilled and there was a jittery, shaking sensation that seized his body. He was only heading toward Reginald, but each step felt heavier and harder than it should have been. It was annoying him. He wanted to dispel the source of the unease, but he could not determine the source. There was nothing unusual that struck him as the cause, or so he thought. He was walking toward Reginald’s home, a simple task. Before that, he heard the talk from Natalya on the rock, which was not galvanizing even though it made him feel a tinge of nostalgia. Looking around, he finally settled that it was because he was lost. Again.

 

Somehow or another, Suran managed to find his way. It was unexpectedly noisy when he walked up to the home. A pair of men carried some furniture out of the front door, paying no heed to him. When he walked inside, he heard clattering and conversations from all corners of the estate.

 

“Good to see you!” Reginald came walking down the hallway to greet Suran, “Knew you would come around.”

 

“What’s going on,” Suran said, motioning to the men moving items.

 

“Oh, I’m moving to a new home, so I need some help moving some of my furniture to the new estate.” A crash sounded out from the next room over and Reginald went over and yelled at someone to be more careful. He came back over and asked, “Want to talk somewhere quiet? It might get noisy out here.” Suran nodded his head in agreement. “Let’s go to my study then – oh, should I call Natalya as well?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Reginald led the way through the home towards his study. The two did not encounter Natalya on their way nor did they go out of their way to find her, so they alone sat down in the nearly cleared out study. “What have you decided?” Reginald asked once they became comfortable in their seating.

 

“I do not think it is possible, but I want to go back to where I came from.”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“… Because I’m not from… here.”

 

“Clearly. I may not be a scholar, but I am educated. I’ll grab a map; tell me what remember about your home and let’s see if I can pinpoint it.”

 

Suran motioned to him to not get up. He thought for a moment before saying, “My home is far different than here in all things – a different world.”

 

“… A different world?” Reginald looked skeptical.

 

“We had no magic or spells or enchantments. Instead, we had an unrivaled understanding of our world and technology to match that. We had cities as far as the eye can see with buildings that pierced the clouds. We could cure any disease, mend any wound, with our medical knowledge. Nothing was out of our reach, the bottom of the oceans, the top of the clouds, or even the stars above. Our machines could forge anything and do anything, and our weapons could wipe cities and armies out in an instance. A society by humans and of only humans, no other races or species.” He paused and continued after taking a breath, “My world and this world are not one in the same.”

 

“What an… interesting place you have described. Then, how did you get from there to here?”

 

Suran sat thinking. It was some time before he said, “I don’t remember – I don’t know. I was there then I wasn’t. After some time, I found myself here.” Reginald sat there with a rather confused look on his face. Suran’s explanations did not seem to be making much sense to him. “It’s natural this is hard to believe.”

 

Reginald sighed “I don’t believe it, to be honest. However, I don’t think your story is all that crazy. If you look at the history of our world, you are sure to find stories that are more unbelievable than the one you just told me. A man coming from a different world is hard to believe, but not totally unbelievable.”  He adjusted himself slightly in his chair, leaning back for comfort. “I simply don’t know enough one way or another to be sure that your story is within the realm of possibility or not.”

 

“Is there someone who does?”

 

The Baron frowned and rubbed his chin. “You are asking for something no average person would know. The only person I can think of is an old acquaintance of mine at the College. Even then, I don’t think his area of expertise is anywhere close to this, but he might know someone or something that has some knowledge on the matter.”

 

“I will need you to introduce me to him. All I need is a lead. I can handle it from there.”

 

“Of course. And don’t feel like you can’t rely on me; you do remember I am in your service.” Suran shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Anyways, that reminds me of another obligation that ties me to you. At the castle, the King gave me the responsibility of rewarding you for your service, and that is what I plan to do.”

 

“I do not need any reward,” Suran said, waving him off.

 

“That is not an option; If I don’t reward you to the King’s standards and expectations, he will have the Black Paladins most likely punish or kill me, just as they did to Hendrick.”

 

“Do what you must, but I would like to speak with that acquaintance of yours above all else.”

 

“I can arrange the meeting for you, quite possibly today if I can reach him, but let me take care of the other obligation I have so I can sleep easier at night.” Reginald then went through his desk, looking through several drawers. “If you remember, the King allotted me a reward from the Estate of Hendrick. One of the things I got was his house – which is really nice might I say. With its owner dead, I have decided to move in, which leaves this house vacant. To help fulfil my obligations, I will bestow this property upon you.”

 

“Isn’t that… excessive?” Suran questioned reward. It was no doubt a valuable asset; the house was large and of good quality, and he would proper lodgings for as long as he was in the city.

 

“It still may not be enough to suit the King, and I would rather be safe than sorry.” He pulled out a piece of fancy parchment from his desk. “This is the deed to the home, proof of ownership. All you need is sign it and the ownership will transfer over to you.” He placed the paper and a pen in front of Suran. Picking up the pen, Suran signed a spot at the bottom of the deed. The letters glowed bright for a moment and then faded. “If you’re curious, the deed was constructed with several magical enchantments. It’s protected from most forms of damage, and can’t physically leave the house due to the enchantments. Even though the city records will also verify ownership, it was a measure of insurance our family had made for peace of mind. If you ever want to sell the property, you sign the paper a second time and it will enable you to write your name off the deed and put someone else’s name on it.” Suran nodded in acknowledgement and Reginald tucked away the deed. “Now that’s out of the way, I must ask you, are you still registering with the Guild?”

 

“I don’t see a reason not to,” Suran said. “I was only going to join it at the suggestion of another.”

 

“I’d say that is a good choice. You don’t lose anything by joining and it opens up many opportunities in work and connections.” The Baron got up from his chair, “Let’s go and see if we can take care of all your objectives today, but first, I have one more reward, or gift, for you we need to pick up.”

 

Suran rose, questioning the Baron, “Another one?”

 

“It’s the last one, trust me. For the King, even this house might not be enough, so please accept it, for my sake at least.”

 

“It can’t be helped, I suppose.” Suran also rose from his seat and bade Reginald to lead the way. The two walked out of the room.

 

“Oh, hey Suran!” Outside of the room, Natalya greeted him. “When did you get here?”

 

Suran kept walking with Reginald past her, “A while ago. I’m heading out with Reginald, if you want to come.” Natalya happily tagged along and the three left the home.