《Logius Code》


 1. The Aloof God

    In a quiet valley, hidden away amongst high mountains and nestled in the anabranch of a sparkling blue river, lay a cottage. It was no ordinary cottage. Its singular nature was not because of its appearance, or the materials that made up its structure, as it was ordinary in those respects. Golden thatchings of straw were laid atop wooden rafters and framing, supported by a foundation of cobblestone sourced from the mountains roundabout.


    Instead, what made this cottage so peculiar was that it was the abode of a god.


    Dorusc the Aloof rested comfortably in a hammock of white silk, which hung from the roof of the porch attached to this cottage. He swayed slightly in the growing light of a new morning; the start of another day in the Realm of Deities.


    His flowing hair crept down the nape of his neck and around his shoulders, completing its serpentine journey at his solar plexus. The long strands shone a brilliant white in the morning''s light, contrasting vividly with the tongues of red flames in his eyes.


    "Faerie, I grow restless. Tell me, what should I do this morning?"


    An orb of light appeared close to Dorusc''s right hand.


    "Lord, it''s been some time since your last Contemplation."


    The deity heaved a sigh akin to what one would when repeating something obvious, "A thousand years cannot change the mortal realm, Faerie. Has history taught you nothing about their stagnation?"


    "As it stands, my lord, you face the risk of stagnation yourself."


    Dorusc snorted, "Perhaps, though I fail to see how Contemplation will quell my melancholy."


    He unraveled the folds of the hammock about him to stand, "Tell me, what is Majestic doing these days?"


    "From what I''ve gathered, his majesty dispatched the yearly Cerberus horde while on his tour of the Underworld."


    Of course, that''s just what he''d do, "Just as I''d expect of the bastard. His age hasn''t dulled his sense of bravado, not in the least."


    "You talk freely of him in hiding, my lord. I wonder if you stated your opinion to the Circle, what would happen." The fairy archly proposed.


    "The Circle of Ancients, you say? What union does age have with power, Faerie? I may be the last born of the Exodus, but does that lessen the gravity of my abilities?"


    "It does not, my lord. It was only in jest."


    "It pleases me that you see things my way. Though as things stand, it might not be wise to prove your jest wrong."


    With a long stretch of his arms, Dorusc lowered his feet lightly onto the wooden porch floor. The sun''s light reflected off of his bared body. He had enough rest for one day.


    "Faerie."If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Yes, my lord."


    An aura of light enveloped the deity. Suddenly, the light shattered into a kaleidoscope of color and sparkles, leaving behind robes of pure white wrapped around him. As Dorusc''s servant, Faerie could do this much.


    "As much as it bores me to look down on the mortal realm, perhaps there''s some merit to your suggestion."


    Dorusc''s long strides soon outpaced the leisurely hover of the Fairy as they moved indoors.


    Their progress halted at a short stool. The deity seated himself on it in a cross-legged fashion, and clasped his hands together into a meditative posture. Faerie hovered close by.


    His red eyes closed, to be met by a sea of lights. bursting into kaleidoscopic splendor. They were near countless in number, and for any other being would be impossible to observe all at once, let alone privileged to such power. However, for a god, it was a trivial matter to gaze upon the many vessels of existence.


    It was a deity''s sovereign duty to maintain the harmony between these vessels and to preserve the mortals contained within. From the moment a deity emerges from the Exodus, this duty is consigned to them through the binding of Logius. Even the Circle of Ancients, who were the first to emerge, did not know the reason for this, or what machination brought them here to the Realm of Deities for this purpose. Nonetheless, they carried out their duty to the mortal realms, whether for better, or worse; diligently, or complacently; willingly, or begrudgingly, for the rest of their immortal existences.


    The deity shook his head, dissatisfied. Vessels had one of two ways to end. Either by stagnation or annihilation. These millennia, the latter outcome had been pared down to only those whose age has gone beyond the vessel''s limit. However, both are brought about by the mortals'' ignorance of the way of things. Ignorance is a danger in many capacities. Ignorance of pride, ignorance of their own shortcomings as mortals. Ignorance of their own impending self-destruction. Technologies, magics, all of it in the hands of lesser beings with little ambitions magnified by lust. No wonder they endlessly marched to their doom. They had no other choice.


    "All is in order, as expected. The mortal realm''s monotony has not changed, it seems... hm?"


    His gaze came to rest on a certain realm. It seemed innocuous enough at first glance. It seemed it had taken the path of stagnation, yet there was a certain something. Something that pricked his intuitive sense for these sorts of things.


    "Truth, reveal yourself."


    The Eyes of Truth saw all that happened, and what would happen. A gif from the Exodus to fulfill what was supposed to be his task as a deity, yet they hadn''t seen very much use since his inception. Much happened then, so much that he was driven here, to live in a dimension of his own creation here with Faerie. It was... a necessary sacrifice.


    Of the past, present, and future of that world, it was the latter that caught Dorusc''s attention. The flames and cries of mortality rose as wisps of smoke, thin and weak. As quickly as they came, they vanished, snuffed out by the doom that consumed them. Demons leaked from dimensional gaps that led to the Underworld, ravaging cities, and entire continents. Inevitably, the globe vanished, engulfed in darkness.


    If his recollection served him correctly, this realm was overseen by Lira of Apathy.


    Although known throughout the Realm of Deities for her distaste for mortals as a number of others did, Dorusc knew that the goddess never made the mistake of purposefully neglecting the realms under her authority. However, this did not stand in the face of the egregious lack of control over this realm''s descent into chaos.


    With the sense of newfound dread in his spirit unabated and his suspicions aroused, Dorusc tore his gaze away from the chaotic realm, opening his eyes upon Faerie, who patiently floated in front of him. He weighed the urgency of this world, his obligation to Logius, against what awaited him if he did what was necessary. As a lesser deity, he hadn''t the power to directly interfere with the world. Even if he did, it would go against the very principles emblazoned upon his spirit.


    At last, he resolved himself. There was no circumventing his duty. What would come, would come.


    "Faerie, prepare for departure. I''m to see Majestic presently."


    "Did something in your Contemplation interest you, my lord?"


    "Indeed, something very interesting. Waste no time, it is of the utmost importance."


    "Yes, my lord."

 2. Majestic

    A few adjustments later, and the robes Dorusc wore now sparkled with gilded fringes. Given the importance of the matter at hand, he hadn''t the patience for more thorough preparations, but it was still necessary for appearances when meeting with the Lord of Deities. Even if their terms weren''t agreeable, given certain circumstances that may or may not have placed him on the Lord''s bad side.


    Faerie hovered close to Dorusc, but an outstretched hand from the diety bade her stay.


    "Faerie, you''re to remain here."


    "My lord?" questioned the Fairy, surprised by the gesture.


    "Have you forgotten what it was like when we first came into being? The years flow easily, just as the waters of the river around us. That is not true of their sophistry, Faerie, or their prejudice."


    The glowing orb bobbed in acquiescence, "I haven''t forgotten, my lord."


    Dorusc raised a hand to snap his fingers.


    A shockwave expanded from the epicenter of the sound. Ripples formed in the scenery around Dorusc and his servant, warping the mountains, the valley, the river, and the cottage until they all faded from view.


    What appeared in their place was a blue sky, which extended infinitely in all directions. Thin strings of white resembling clouds floated in lazy circles, with apparently no destination in mind or any wind to propel them. Ambient light reflected off their surface with seemingly no source or origin but lent a golden gleam to their surfaces.


    In the distance, immaculate round towers of marble floated. Almost impossibly so, suspended by golden chains anchored somewhere in the expanse above. Where they terminated, Dorusc couldn''t fathom, just as one couldn''t fully comprehend the power of their architect who dwelt in the towers they maintained. From afar, the entire structure resembled a circular fortification without walls or keep. At its center, an amphitheater hung from the same that housed the grounds for the Exodus.


    The deity''s fingers clicked once more. The reverberations of the sky blotted out the ambient light of the sunless realm.


    The terminus of his teleportation was a stone corridor. On the walls to the left and right hung tapestries depicting monsters and demons, contorted into deathly poses while slaughtered by a lone figure. Dorusc knew this figure to be Majestic. The Lord had a fondness for the hunt, and these artworks portrayed the ego behind that passion. Perhaps not purposefully, they bore the subtleties of the decline of the Realm. With little else left to be done, now that order reigned in the mortal realms, immortality became a bane to a god''s existence. It could be said that the deities of the Realm were decaying from the sheer boredom of their lives, but with no end in sight, they could only partake in trivial pastimes. Majestic''s just so happened to be an example, his most recent example related to him by Faerie.


    "What purpose has brought you here, Aloof One?"


    A voice met Dorusc''s arrival inside the castle. It radiated unfettered malice, which the deity feigned indifference toward as he approached its owner, who was stationed outside Majestic''s chambers.


    "I come bearing news of importance. Notify his majesty that I wish to speak to him."


    The guard was one of the more peculiar residents of the Realm of Deities, more specifically in Majestic''s castle. Golems, created by none other than the Lord himself. Gifted with fragments of the Lord''s power and consciousness, they served as guards and various other tasks throughout the Realm, interceding on their master''s behalf when tasks unbefitting his time arose. This golem seemed to be a favored creation of his, considering its humanoid form. Eyes that glowed orange, sallow skin that gleamed with artificial quality, and an outline unmistakably feminine.


    It glared at Dorusc, a certain intense distaste for his presence readily apparent, "His majesty will not see you."


    Undeterred, the deity brushed past the golem and reached for the handle of Majestic''s chamber door. He did not have time to bandy words with one of his puppets, not when the very reason for their existence stands at the brink.


    A streak of red passed close to Dorusc''s face, impacting the door with a loud thud as the fiery lance embedded itself into its wooden frame.


    "I repeat, his majesty will not see you."


    For several seconds, the deity stood motionless, his hand latched to the horn-shaped handle of Majestic''s chamber door.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "Did his majesty forget to instill basic etiquette in you? Regardless of my standing, I am a guest. You should treat me as such."


    His head turned to face the golem. If Death had the gift of expression, it would have been Dorusc''s at that moment.


    "Or is he willing to make me his enemy?"


    He pulled open the door, ignoring the golem''s hateful stare.


    The decor inside Majestic''s chamber wasn''t that different from the corridor outside. In fact, it appeared to serve as an extension to his tapestry collection, for inside his chamber hung the remainder of his immense collection of exploits, covering every wall. On the ceiling was a mural, a chronicle of an intense battle with a horde of four-headed hounds; Cerberus. No doubt his latest addition.


    "For one given to lectures of etiquette, you were quite willing to overlook a simple knock, Aloof One."


    Even from across the room, while seated at a silver desk, Majestic was an imposing figure to behold. Braided locks of blood-red fell to his shoulders, and upon this was a crown of fire. Wisps of flame that originated from the crown intermingled with the deity''s red braids, giving the appearance that they possessed a life of their own. It was the golden eyes that crowned his appearance. They glowed intensely with a molten fervor, as one would notice of the metal in its liquid state.


    The regal deity rested his head on the flat of his hand. Although the relaxed posture he assumed spoke of nonchalance, his narrowed eyes told another story. They held the same unfiltered contempt for Dorusc''s existence.


    "It''s bold of you to show your face here again, Aloof One."


    "Is it?" Dorusc paced about the chamber, scanning the intricate mural above with interest.


    "Impertinent fool. I suppose you have forgotten everything already. As foolhardy as you are, it wouldn''t surprise me if you had."


    "Not in the least, your majesty. I would have done the same, given another opportunity."


    A tongue of flame arced from Majestic''s crown and receded back into his braids, "They''re deceitful, treasonous creatures. That you would harbor one so readily is tantamount to heresy!"


    "Faerie is not the same, your majesty."


    "And what proof is there of that?"


    "My word alone, though that''s of no value to you, is it?"


    The Lord lifted his head from its repose, leveling his gaze at Dorusc, "What is it you want? Surely you didn''t come out of hiding to merely trade blows."


    A particular section of the mural caught Dorusc''s attention, enticing him to stretch upward to get a better view, "I underwent a Contemplation and discovered that one of the realms under Lira''s supervision faces rather dire straits. Given your authority, I believed it necessary to inform you of her wanton disregard of Logius."


    At these words, Majestic rose from his silver seat. Dorusc knew all too well that this would pique the Lord''s interest. To see his prediction come true only made the moment that much more enjoyable, now that he danced on his palm.


    "Are you certain?"


    "Without a doubt. I''m sure you understand that the future does not lie, nor do the eyes that see it." As though to prove the point, the red mist manifested once more to float around his eyes.


    However, that was where Dorusc''s moment of glee ended. Majestic looked upward at the ceiling at the reproduction of the battle.


    "Tell me, Aloof One. Let us set aside our differences for once, and tell me. What do you think of the Realm?"


    Dorusc turned his attention away from the mural to look at the pensive god, perplexed, "Your words elude me."


    The Lord sighed, "Do you see how we deities have fallen from our previous glory? What was once our golden time, when the vessels were quite young, has now become our drudgery. Even the Exodus has fallen into silence, with nary a god to emerge. It''s as though we have no purpose, that in our stagnation, the Exodus has abandoned us."


    The fingers of his right hand clenched, as he raised it up towards the mural.


    "The Underworld was my respite from the melancholy in my heart. I indulged myself in the slaughter of the demons and beasts that flow forth from its depths. Yet even there, there is no meaning. Aloof One, we have lost our way, without realizing it." His fist opened, and a ball of flame bloomed into being, "It was my belief that Logius was meant for preservation, that we deities could not destroy the very things the Exodus meant for us to watch over. The foolish, the arrogant, the prideful, and the inexperienced couldn''t harm what was the mortal''s birthright. But it only became our shackles in the end."


    Dorusc watched Majestic intently, "Meaning?"


    As though anticipating this response, the Lord smiled, the flames intensifying as his grin grew wider, "I have found that meaning. What would happen, if the vessels of mortal existence, were to disappear?"


    "Only moments ago, you spoke of heresy. What you speak now amounts to blasphemy."


    "Perhaps, but I am more than willing to blaspheme even the Exodus if meaning could return once more to our realm."


    "You''re insane!" Dorusc advanced on the Lord, his eyes flaring crimson, "The Exodus will surely reproach you! What will you bring upon the Realm if you defy it?"


    "I take it we have yet another disagreement then?"


    "Naturally!"


    Majestic''s smile faded. Another sigh escaped him as he mildly caught Dorusc''s fist with his free hand.


    "Of all within my rule, you are the second to oppose my plan. I sometimes wondered what purpose the Exodus intended for you. Ironically, it seems it was for you to be a perpetual thorn in my side. That will not stand any longer!"


    With alarming speed, the flame in Majestic''s hand altered its shape into a lance and flew straight and true. It pierced through Dorusc''s midriff. Golden fluid erupted from his mouth as the force of the blow propelled him into a nearby wall.


    "Your title fits you well, Aloof One, perhaps all too well. Not once have I divined your intentions, let alone whatever idle ambitions you hold dear," Majestic spoke softly. "It is an unfortunate thing, your power would have been worthy of the kingdom I envision, but I will have to rid the Realm of you. You are, after all, the Aloof One. The one that dared side with our mortal adversaries."


    The body of the Aloof One crumpled to the floor, vapor rising from the rapidly regenerating hole in his stomach.


    "Golems, seize this traitor!"

 3. A Traitors Trial

    A sunless sky cast its hazy light upon the Sky Castle''s central amphitheater. An impromptu trial, immediately announced after the seizure of the incapacitated Dorusc, was prepared. It would be here, that the Circle of one-hundred and nine would bear witness to the unprecedented conviction of a deity. The one-hundred and nine that emerged after the eldest of their kind, Majestic.


    Uneasy threads of murmuring wound their way through the crowd that assembled in response to the Lord''s summons. They sat along the amphitheater''s cavea, every one of their attentions drawn to the center of the round structure. A motionless figure, impaled by a lance of flames, bore their inquisitive stares with limitless forbearance.


    Of the audience, a portion wondered at the spectacle, marveling at the heavily armored golems stationed around him. Others, who were more reserved concerning the appalling scene, recoiled at the sight of the gore spattered across Dorusc''s robes and countenance, instead opting to contribute to the gossip circulating through the assembly of deities. Presumably, to distract themselves from the sight.


    Unconcious, Dorusc''s head lolled forward, his ivory locks frayed and unkempt. His jaw was slacked, gold dripping from his parted lips.


    Anchored to two stone pillars on either side of him were chains. There was one for each extremity, each supporting the prisoner''s weight over a bottomless void below.


    The Exodus thrummed with visceral intensity. A mauve aura about its circumference pulsed in synchrony with the low tones emanating from its darkened depths; glowing with crescendos and dimming with its subsequent diminuendos. To say this singularity was akin to a living creature wouldn''t be that far-fetched. The very space around the shadowy rift of the Realm was quickened to life by its rhythm.


    Silence washed over the crowd of attending deities when the deafening blare of horns, held by the nine security golems stationed radially around the prisoner, signaled the arrival of the Lord of Deities. All paid due reverence to the eldest among them. Not a knee remained unbent, nor a single head raised to the one that saw the creation of all things.


    Majestic strode with single-minded purpose along an ethereal ramp summoned at his convenience, which gave way to his tower of residence. His pace soon brought him to the center of the amphitheater, where he then lifted the captive''s bloodied face to study his unresponsive expression.


    Turning his attention away, apparently satisfied with the measures taken for Dorusc''s restraint, Majestic cast a cursory glance at the tense crowd. He beckoned one of the nine golems stationed around the prisoner to his side.


    "Hasten his recovery. Make sure he''s lively before his conviction."


    With a curt nod, the helmeted golem delivered a sharp smack to the side of Dorusc''s head, a spray of gold ensuing from a fit of coughing as the deity stirred.


    "Pay heed, O one-hundred and nine of the Circle, to my judgment of this traitor!"


    Majetic''s voice echoed from the amphitheater''s semi-conical rim, "I bring before you a devil well known to you, and to all of the Realm for his doings.


    As you all well know, millennia ago, I led the effort to exterminate our mortal enemies, the Fairies, the primordial spirits of the Realm. Few among your number, as the eldest of the gods, remember the days of our war, but let me assure you, not one remained in the realm rightfully meant for the gods!


    But alas, our peace was not meant to be. As though in defiance of our crusade, the Aloof One brought with him from the Exodus another of their kind. It is unbelievable and almost inconceivable to even accept it as truth!Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    And even this was not the end of it. In direct opposition to my decree, this traitorous fiend fled, and dared to hide himself away with the Fairy. That was, until now.


    O one-hundred and nine of the Circle, I bring this traitor before you, before this trial, for high treason."


    Majestic''s righteous glare Dorusc, "Logius was transgressed, by this treasonous wretch!"


    An agitated roar rose from the crowd.


    "I charge the Aloof One with direct interference of a vessel of mortal existence under the authority of another deity, a complete contravention of the tenants of Logius, thereby threatening the wellbeing of the Realm. For this reason, I implore the Circle join me as I cast this traitor into the Exodus!"


    From his semi-conscious perspective, Dorusc barely heard Majestic. What he did manage to hear, he couldn''t believe.


    Majestic continued, "The offended goddess is with me as I speak. She will testify of her suffering at the hands of this unlawful creature!"


    On cue, from behind Majestic materialized the goddess in question. If it weren''t for his present circumstances, Dorusc would have considered her an almond-skinned beauty. Dressed in flowing purple veils, her appearance as a goddess struck envy in the hearts of her peers. These niceties were lost on the Aloof One as he dangled over the creator of his being, and now, the bringer of his impending doom.


    The goddess spoke with a soft lisp, "It is as his majesty says. I witnessed the Aloof One''s disregard for Logius. As a result, the veil between the mortal realm and the Underworld has fractured. The realm is now doomed to fall to the demons in three years'' time."


    One of those seated among the Circle rose to speak, "Have countermeasures been made to offset the damage done?"


    "Of course, that has already been arranged. Three heroes were called upon as soon as I became aware of the Aloof One''s misconduct. Even now, they are en route to the realm, with my blessings awaiting them." Lira answered.


    "I see. You have done well, Lira. It is good to see that the rumors concerning you were untrue..." The one named Demiark clapped nervously, before reseating himself.


    Dorusc raised his head to glare at Lira, "Heroes? This matter goes beyond what heroes could handle. I could see the veil shattering; the realm would be overrun by the demons before they could slay the first of them."


    But his words couldn''t reach them. They were as deaf as they were blinded by their prejudice.


    "So, now that you have heard her testimony, what say you, O one-hundred and nine of the Circle?" Majestic asked.


    One by one, those seated began to rise.


    "Cast him into the Exodus!"


    "Cast him out!"


    "Begone with the cretin that would oppose Logius!"


    Majestic nodded approvingly, "Very well. Lower him in...!


    From high above, came a streak of light, followed by a cry familiar to Dorusc.


    "My lord!"


    Confusion spread among the crowd as they looked to the sky to witness the Fairy''s reckless dive toward the Exodus.


    "A Fairy, what is it doing here?"


    "Were they not extinct?"


    "Is this the Aloof One''s pet?"


    "Seize it!"


    The Circle devolved into chaos at the Fairy''s sudden appearance. Projectiles of light, fire, and other elements erupted from the cavea at the lone Faerie. Her plunge was perilous, the path to her master nearly obscured by the wave of attacks as she weaved between them.


    Her arrival came much too late. The nine golems released the chains from their pillars, dropping Dorusc into the Exodus'' depths.


    "I ordered you to stay behind, Faerie! It is too dangerous now...!" Dorusc roared as he fell.


    His servant''s frantic reply was garbled by the deafening rhythm of the void below him. Before his face dipped underneath its surface, he saw Faerie''s light plunge into the Exodus alongside him.


    "You did not have to do that."


    The chaos faded, and then, there was nothing.


    Dorusc could not see his limbs or his torso, or whether or not he had those to see them. There was no pain, neither was there any sense of feeling. If one were to define the opposite of existence, it might be what Dorusc experienced now. The endless nothingness that permeated his being and tugged at his spirit certainly fit its definition.


    "So. This is the beginning... and the end of the gods."


    It felt as though his consciousness was slipping, slowly melding with the darkness around him.


    "The void can even consume one''s mind. Perhaps, these will be my very last thoughts while in existence. I wonder... how many others did he cast aside..."


    He gritted his teeth. The lance buried in his midriff vanished, and his body and spirit began to crumble.


    "Majestic... you... I will see retribution poured upon your head. I will see your last. I swear upon my fading spirit, my very birthright as a deity, I will see you suffer for what you have done this day...!"


    The last of his waning spirit evaporated into the Exodus'' shadows.

 4. The Wayward Son

    -Eastern Port city of Narwell, capital of the vassal state of Silias, year 1396 on the Unified Herelin Calendar-


    "Your father is dead."


    No four words could bear more grievous tidings as these could. Borne on the light mahogany of parchment, and sealed for eternity in obsidian ink, the heading began what was the eulogy of one Milvelt Delark. Attached, as if an afterthought by the writers of the document, was his will and last testament, or what was supposed as one. Its contents listed his only son Zane as the inheritor of the single entry listed within the memorandum, as notarized by close friends who bore witness to the decedent''s last moments.


    All that was left behind for the inheritor was an oddity shop, located in the Thessolian Empire''s capital city of Pirsk.


    "And that''s... all?"


    The crash of a fist upon wood echoed in the small room. A man, tears streaming down his face, crumpled the document in his hands, throwing it into a nearby fireplace upon reading its contents. Once the lump in his throat thoroughly engorged itself from grief, he slumped into a chair adjacent to the table he had abused only moments before.


    "That''s all? Did he have nothing to say to me!"


    A woman, who stood some distance away, presumably to give him time to himself, rushed to his side and clutched his arm as she shared in his grief. Though not of remarkable beauty, perhaps dimmed from the lengthy scar laid from the peak of her forehead to her right ear, she possessed a demure charm.


    "Zane... I''m sorry..."


    "Eight years. It was eight years ago... it took a lot to convince him that I could make it as a merchant. He laughed at me, you know? Said I couldn''t do it. I hated him for that."


    Once more, a fist thudded onto the tabletop; it was feeble this time, as though the energy intended never made it in time for the blow.


    "But look, father... I did what you said I couldn''t, but... why couldn''t you have waited for me to tell you? You even had a grandchild waiting for you..."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    The flicker of a nearby candle darkened the rivulets that ran down their faces.


    "I can only think of one thing to do. The shop should be auctioned. It''s impossible to sustain it now, not with my ties here. It''s on a good plot, so I''m sure many of my father''s competitors would be more than willing to purchase it."


    His wife''s grip on his arm tightened, "But you told me it was his life''s work, wasn''t it? Should you give it away so easily?"


    Zane grimaced. His wife''s words rang so true, that it was hard for him to admit. He wouldn''t have thought her capable of them before they met. But now...


    The distraught merchant wiped his eyes and breathed deeply.


    "I know... you''re right, Milina, but how can I afford it? What we have now is barely enough to keep my ties with the docks and seamen here strong. Even if I dismantled the company I''ve worked so hard to build here, it would barely be enough to maintain it for a year."


    His head sunk into his hands, their long fingers combed through his tousled brown hair.


    "If only I had the capital, I could rebuild it from scratch... unless."


    An epiphany seemed to hit Zane.


    "Unless I can acquire a loan..."


    Milina''s teary face darkened with dread, "Dear, you aren''t thinking of going to ''them'', are you?"


    Zane reached his hand over to caress her cheek, "There''s nothing to worry about. I''ve dealt with them plenty of times. Over the years, I think I''ve built some trust with Lorel." He stood from his chair, his jaw set resolutely in stark contrast against the wet traces on his face, "With a little bit of work, the shop would pay the loan off in less than a year. And with a hefty chunk of interest, he couldn''t refuse!"


    "I think you should reconsider..."


    But it was no use. Milina knew how her husband would get when his mind was set on one of his plans. His determination to see his dreams come true sometimes worried her with how fervently he worked toward them.


    They were just rumors shared among the women of their district, but the mere possibility of them being true was what made Lorel and his men so terrifying.


    On the outside, Lore''s group was the largest lender in the Narwell naval district. Under this identity, they took and managed loan requests for traders and noteworthy ship captains in exchange for collateral of goods upfront, or a certain cut of any profits made on a voyage. The company reaped massive profits just through their interest alone, which was hefty enough for most prospective loan-takers to back away.


    The few success stories the Lorel Group helped create painted them as the Saints of Narwell. But it wasn''t these good deeds that brought rumors about. Tales of failed business owners who sought to stave off bankruptcy mysteriously disappeared several years after signing Lorel''s contract.


    "I can''t let my father''s work rot away. This is the least I can do..."


    All Milina could do was smile worriedly at Zane''s determination. She could only hope that determination wouldn''t lose her a husband.

 5. On the way, there were vendors, princes, and a saintly broker

    "I''ll return before dusk, Milina."


    Zane gave her a subdued peck on the cheek. The door to their townhouse closed behind him, his back turned to the apprehensive gaze that followed him out.


    What greeted his egress was the southern residential district of Narwell, a city that, over the years, nurtured a certain fondness in his heart. But today, he couldn''t help but notice how the grays of the scene stood out so morbidly, and how the monochrome of the buildings around him weighed so heavily on his shoulders.


    In this area of the city, townhouses of varying heights and occupancy lined the left and right-hand sides of the cobbled street. Above, pulled taught between the buildings'' windows, was a veritable cobweb of laundry lines, with their linen catches dangling from them. Women, to whom these lines belonged, stoically heaved on the lines to retrieve their haul. While they did so, their children played in the street below, perpetuating their mothers'' neverending labor in their own amusement.


    The southern residential district was commonly known as the slums of the city, although this designation stood as a tragic misnomer. Narwell boasted the lion''s share of commerce throughout the continent of Keldor, and it couldn''t be said to have any homeless, let alone beggars. Instead, there was a different set of classes to its caste: those in the good graces of the merchant''s guild, and those that were not. As for the two classes, it was merely a difference between the extremely well-off, and those of the middle class or non-mercantilists and artisans who didn''t much care for the niceties promised by the guild''s compromising contracts. Where Zane and his wife lived just so happened to be a lowly valued zone within the district that housed many of the residents described by the latter of the aforementioned caste system.


    Despite the alleged governorship of a local lord, his authority never seemed to leave the comfort of his own mansion to affect the populace. The noble family''s indolence, as a result, shifted the power over to the merchant''s guild. From the citizens'' and seamens'' perspectives, the guild''s rise to power couldn''t have come sooner, as it brought the prosperity the city now enjoyed.


    As for Narwell''s layout, from above it resembled the Greater Narwell Crab, its namesake. To the north and south side were the pincers of the city, a wide stone road capable of sustaining traffic four carriages wide, with ample room to spare for footsloggers along its fringes.


    Branching from this main thoroughfare to the east was the head of the city, the Merchants District. The adventurer''s and merchant''s guild, naval offices, and other sundry services and governmental buildings resided here, and for good reason. The district abutted the shoreline of the Minor Silian Bay, where the city''s wharf operated. It''s commonly said among the seamen that frequent the city''s taverns that there was no place on the continent that more gold traded hands than in the Merchants District. Although not all the tales they spewed were to be taken at face value, not if a passing stranger were to keep their pockets full, they weren''t entirely mistaken in this sentiment. Narwell was, indeed, a prosperous city.


    A briny breeze tickled the insides of Zane''s nose as he wound his way through the city''s main thoroughfare. It seemed that with every step, the smell and buzz of activity grew. Street vendors selling their wares, seamen galavanting about on shore leave, and brokers and storekeepers advertising their services filled the streets. In his younger days, these sights were Zane''s treasure, even when gold could not. After all, it was here that he met Melina.


    "Hoi, Zane!"


    His attention was arrested by the hearty cry of one of the street vendors who caught sight of him, "Is it you, Darin?"


    "It is, it is m''lad."


    The man in question bore a striking resemblance to a barrel in stature. His torso was wide, and shoulders also. A ponderous belly wobbled underneath a grease-stained jacket and brown tunic that had certainly seen better days, and atop his head sat a woolen cap in like manner. His eyes held a cheery gleam, despite their beady appearance, "I''ve got a fresh batch of cakes if you''d care to sample em."


    The smell of shellfish emanated from the cart Darin watched over. On it, was a burner lit by a bright green flame, which heated a large fryer above, filled with oil and the aforementioned cake batter.


    "I thought it wasn''t the season for Narwells?"


    "Aye, it isn''t. But lately, hauls are bringin'' them in. as though the shelled beasties have forgotten their proper time. And they''re bringing more and more in at that. Strange it is, but I ain''t complainin''!" The burly Darin shrugged, then grinned widely while thrusting one of the city''s delicacies in Zane''s direction, "Take it, it''s on the house. These days, the flavor''s dulled the customer''s taste, not too many bites anymore you see."Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "Thanks, I appreciate it."


    Zane juggled the hot crab fritter about in its palm leaf wrapping while watching the stream of traffic from their roadside vantage point. Little by little, the color seemed to be seeping back into the cityscape, but he knew it would be some time until it came back fully.


    "It''s busy today. I don''t remember a day so lively like this before."


    His companion cast a puzzled look at him, "Did you not hear? The Empire''s third prince is going the pay us a little visit."


    "Oh? That explains it then."


    "Aye. I hear he''s quite something. Not even my own son''s age when he ended the war."


    "Did you hear what he was coming for?"


    "Something about expanding the port, though why I can''t fathom. The way I see it, things are going smoothly as they are."


    Zane nodded, while he stared pensively at the half-eaten crab cake in his hands.


    "What''s ailing you, lad? You don''t seem yourself." Darin asked.


    "Ah, it''s nothing."


    He turned his face away from Darin''s probing stare, "I should be going. There''s an appointment I need to attend to. Let''s meet again, friend."


    "Aye, let''s."


    Darin''s wave shrunk in the distance as Zane continued onward toward the Merchant''s District. Ahead was the central plaza, where the way to the head and the rest of the city met. It was here, that the heart of Narwell pulsed with vibrancy unrivaled in the continent of Keldor.


    A large crowd flocked near the north-eastern corner of the square. Curious, but unwilling to sacrifice any more time merely on an impulse, Zane veered course behind the onlookers, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the spectacle in passing. Between the swaying heads, he saw a group of performers, all of exotic origin. A lizardman, who pressed an intense assault on a leathern drum, lead the rhythm of an elf''s lute, and a human''s... in all honesty, it was hard for Zane to even describe. The oddity had so many cranks and keys that it was difficult to distinguish what was instrument from clockwork. Nonetheless, the man that wielded the infernal contraption operated it with incredible skill, unyielding to the lizardman''s frantic tempo.


    The motley crew was as diverse as their music. Unconsciously, Zane walked to their rhythm. It was difficult to focus his eyes ahead of him, for when he did, they would drift back to their performance.


    A mere two years ago, this unlikely troupe wouldn''t have existed. The continent of Keldor was never as peaceful as it was now. For centuries, The Humans, Demihumans, and Inhumans, the three nations of power, were locked in mortal combat. Only recently, with the immense knowledge and diplomatic prowess of the third Prince of the Human race and third heir to the throne of the Thessolian Empire, brought the war''s decades-long deadlock to an end. It was unheard of for a prince, let alone one as young as he, to handle the matter as he did. For this reason, the Third Prince was held in high regard, not only among the humans but the many races of the other nations as well. Whether it was this universal respect for the prince that these three could meet, or some other whim of fate that brought them together, Zane couldn''t decide. Regardless, it was a sight to cry tears of joy for.


    Tearing his gaze from the performers, Zane turned east, toward the Merchant''s district. After some minutes, his destination came into view.


    "Lorel''s Brokerage for Mercantilists and Seafarers."


    The wooden sign attached to the front of the building from arched supports dangled above his head. Normally, like the other services adjacent to this structure, a supplementary symbol or illustration universally understood among the illiterate of the city would hang alongside the lettering. However, Lorel thought them meaningless, as Zane knew. If clients couldn''t read, then by extension, the possibility that they would understand what a brokerage was, let alone the borrowing process in general, was slim.


    Zane entered the building and met with the clerk at the establishment''s counter. The clerk feigned indifference at his arrival. Offering only a cursory glance at his person, she returned her gaze back at the hefty ledger opened on the countertop, a tightly bound ginger bun topped her fair, bespectacled complexion.


    "Er... is Lorel in today?"


    "He is."


    "Would it be an inconvenience if I could meet with him? My name is Zane Delark, I''m something of an acquaintance."


    "Acquaintance?" She snorted, "Master Lorel is currently engaged in a meeting with several of his clients. As an acquaintance, you may wait for him over there."


    She pointed toward a cramped-looking lounge to his left.


    "Ah, right."


    Zane took a seat in one of the equally cramped-looking chairs placed in the room. An inexplicable sense of defeat reddened his face a little.


    "Perhaps that clerk was new..." He thought.


    Half an hour had passed. Now, the bespectacled clerk scratched at the ledger with a white quill. Every minute, a page turned. It was rhythmically torturous, devilish even, exacerbated by the time that slowly ticked by. Unsurprisingly, this went unnoticed by the torturess, her entire being absorbed in the inked pages before her.


    The painful wait ended roughly ten minutes later when the sound of a number of male voices echoed down the hall adjacent to the counter.


    "I tell you, the idea isn''t outlandish at all!"


    "No matter what you say, I will not back a venture with risk of that caliber."


    "You reject the offer merely because of a little risk? Have you not been weaned from your mother''s tits, Lorel?"


    "I prefer to regard my caution as a sign of maturity, Master Bagir. Now, do have a good day, all of you."


    Three well-to-do men exited the building in an indignant huff, followed by the exasperated sigh of the equally elegant figure of the one that saw them out.


    "Einese, see to it the men know their faces. I don''t wish to bandy words with them any more than what I had to endure today."


    "As you wish, Master Lorel."


    Lorel began to return to his office. He paused momentarily after spotting Zane''s hunched form in the cramped chair at the furthest corner of the cramped waiting room.


    "And what brings you here, Zane?"

 6. Lorel Dorn

    "That''s all a good reputation does for you. Saintly? Pshaw! I''d much rather the rigor of a devil, would suit me better! I swear, I''ll plant my fist into the next brazen fool that mistakes my occupation for philanthropy! The nerve!"


    The two repaired to Lorel''s office, and now the "saintly" broker sat at his Darkwood desk, one leg crossed on top of another, allowing Zane the honor of enduring a brisk tongue lashing.


    The dapperly dressed Lorel Dorn, sporting a silken, cuffed jacket of dark turquoise and hose of the same, had the features of a man that betrayed nothing. A perfect poker face and dark-green eyes, honed in his years of service to the wharf and constituency of rowdy seamen, vulturous noblemen, and sly merchants, was quite sharp as his nose and chin were. Though shortly cropped, curled charcoal sprung forth from his scalp, glossy in the light that poured from the office windows behind Lorel''s desk.


    "Well? You''ve come all this way from the slums. What would you have me do, Gull?"


    "I do have a name, remember? Not a minute ago, you spoke it."


    "Nonsense! What do you take me for? The tavern swine across the way? A Gull is a Gull. If you were to see a dog, would you not call it a dog?"


    "There is no argument there, that I''ll grant you..."


    "But really, what possesses you to continue the profession? Where is the profit?"


    "I prefer to work alone, you see."


    "Really now? I suppose you haven''t the talent for anything else. Still, it''s a waste, your knowledge of the sea is deep compared to some."


    "Working with those fresh to the sea-business is fulfilling, I see no waste."


    "Whatever suits your fancy, Gull."


    The lender''s fingers strummed against his desk, "Banter aside, what do you want from me?"


    Zane inhaled deeply as he considered his words. Then, once he was sure of himself, he began, "I came to withdraw one of the favors you owe me."


    Lorel''s eyebrows raised, "Oh?"


    "Recently, my father passed. The inheritance he left behind included an oddity shop..."


    The fingers continued to strum against the darkwood desk, and after a short pause, they halted. "My condolences for your loss."


    Zane nodded, then continued, "I haven''t the capital to properly fund its operation. Here is where my proposition begins: as collateral, I offer the plot of land it rests on, and the building itself. In return, I request the capital for its operation for a year."


    "And how much will this venture entail?"Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Three thousand Herels."


    Lorel''s eyes widened, "Are you planning to found a new company? What sort of shop requires three thousand merely to lay idle on a plot of land for a year? Out of the question entirely!"


    "Lend me your ear for one moment more, I haven''t revealed its location! Do you have any maps of the Thessolian capitol?"


    "This better not be some confounded excuse to waste my time... Einese! Fetch the Thessolian Empire''s surveys!"


    Thirty minutes later, the clerk from before entered, carrying several rolls of tightly bound parchment, "These are the surveys from two decades ago, Master Lorel." She announced, offering a small curtsy before taking her leave.


    "Where is it then?"


    "It resides in the inner ring of the Empire''s capitol of Pirsk."


    The lender''s eyes widened even further than before, to the point of bulging, "By the gods, your father must have been an aristocrat!" He shuffled through the surveys until he found the one in question, "Indeed, this is an enviable plot. Not many could afford a location this close to the palace."


    "Even I am unsure as to how he managed, but no, he wasn''t wealthy, nor was he anyone of noble birth that I''m aware of."


    Lorel stroked his chin thoughtfully as he studied the survey, "Regardless, the property alone... in the inner ring where even the royal family''s entourage passes through..." He then looked to Zane with a rather serious expression, "What baffles me is why you would go to such lengths. Surely auctioning or selling the property outright would bring enough capital to begin a new business anywhere on the continent?"


    "It''s for a personal reason."


    "Hmph."


    "Were you, perhaps, trying to persuade me to sell it? Perhaps, to you?"


    "Never you mind, Gull. Now, about the particulars for this venture..."


    "You''re willing to accept?"


    "Compared to a certain group of feckless dreamers, your proposal is a needed respite. Why would I not accept, when a profit is to be had? Not only that, I don''t betray favors owed to a man who does well by me!"


    After an hour, a plan began to form between the Gull and the Saintly Broker consisting of three points of interest. First, as offered by the client, a certain sum of capital was to be lent, in exchange for collateral in the form of property, highly alluring property at that. Second, the venture would not begin until after the coming Spring. Summer was quickly waning, and Autumn was soon to come. As the trip to the Empire would take several months to complete, the coming Winter would thwart any plans of an early departure, leaving them no choice but to postpone until warmer weather returned. Lastly, as insurance against possible failure, certain members of Lorel''s men would be sent, per annum, to ensure the shop''s integrity, and that Lorel''s investment wasn''t lost to misuse or malfeasance.


    Later that evening, their business now concluded, Zane returned home, somewhat frazzled from their lengthy discussion. He sat on a stool close to a newborn in its wooden crib, Milina stood alongside him. They both watched the child''s sleepy kicks as it slept.


    Zane smiled, "She looks like she''s having her own little adventure already."


    "Just like a certain reckless merchant I know."


    "She takes after you more than I..." Zane began to retort, "her eyes, I mean."


    As dusk quickly turned to night, the two watched over the new soul.


    "Is there anyone you wish to see?" Zane asked quietly.


    "No... not anymore."


    "Anywhere you want to go?"


    "Only wherever you go."


    "It''s a long trip, and an even longer one back."


    "I''m prepared."


    Zane looked at his wife. Her eyes were unmoving from the future they created together, sleeping fitfully in a dream only the youngest would know. That future gave her strength; a strength that not too long ago she hadn''t much of, in a time where life seemed so far away, and death came with a welcoming embrace. It made him happy to see that she had something to live for. Something to keep her in this mortal coil with him. That she wouldn''t disappear one day from his life.


    "Then we''ll leave in the Spring. In the meantime, I''ll arrange for a carriage and escorts ahead of time. No doubt the guild will be overburdened by then, as it always is."

 7. The way back home

    The viridescence of summer soon faded, white slowly crept across the shores of Narwell. In turn, the port city raised its own colors of orange-gold light, bathing the sprawl in a shimmering sea of sparkles.


    Winter was the slowest season for the city''s residents and its port, as it was for the majority of the continent, with few exceptions. What few ships remained moored to their berths at Narwell, the others having left for warmer shores father south to continue their trade, were now blockaded with sheets of sea-ice. With no alternative, their captains were forced to let their land-locked crews enjoy the cold months in the hospitality offered at the city''s taverns, possible only through their deepened pockets from yet another profitable year.


    Soon after, the city''s frosty sheen gave way to the warmth of Spring, lifting the drowsy stupor from the city. No time was wasted in restoring its vigor. In the second week of the season, an exceptionally busy time when very little of the main road was visible for shuffling throngs, carts, and carriages, Narwell reached its peak once more.


    It was in this crowded thoroughfare that Zane and his wife pressed through. Bodies crushed in on all sides, slowing their pace to a haphazard crawl.


    Milina stopped, pulling back on Zane''s hand, "Hah... it''s a bit hard to breathe."


    Zane tightened his grip, "Just a little more, don''t stop or we''ll never get through... careful, don''t drop Telsi!"


    The infant in question raised an indignant squeal at her mother''s handling. It was a rather precarious arrangement, considering Milina had the use of only one hand to support her charge, while the other was held by her husband. She would be lost to the masses otherwise, yet it was nonetheless daunting to maintain a firm hold on little Telsi.


    "There there, don''t worry, mommy''s not going to let you go."


    Straining his eyes, Zane stood on the tips of his boots to peer over the crowd.


    "The prince must be due today. There''s no other explanation for it."


    Indeed. It was rare to see the wide road suffocate as it did now. His eyes were permanently squinted, wincing at the near-deafening racket. In doing so, he nearly blundered into a heated conflict between a cart driver and a pedestrian, which he and his wife, fortunately, managed to skirt without notice, as they seemed very close to blows.


    Zane pointed toward a stable at the far side of the Merchant''s District, "There, that''s the place. The adventurers I''ve hired to escort us should be there with our carriage."


    The two put all their strength into one last push through, bringing them to the front of the building. Staged outside the heavy double-doors of the stable, a plain carriage and accompanying supply cart was circled by a group of four, each possessing a variety of equipment, weapons, and lineage.


    "There they are now."


    One of the men, who leaned against the supply cart, sprung forward to greet their arrival, "Aha! Master Delark, there you are! You look just the way the guild master said you would!"


    Zane clasped the animated adventurer''s hand in response, "Nix Fallon, correct?"


    "That''s me! Mithril ranked swordsman, at your service!"


    Clad in chainmail and light plate armor, the grizzled swordsman seemed quite capable. Zane nearly gaped in wonder at the cords of muscle that practically bulged from underneath the tight cloth padding against his mail.


    "Oh, forgive me, I haven''t introduced my mates."


    Nix beckoned for the rest to step forward. He rested a hand on the shoulder of a robed sage, "This here is Yorn Winsup, a good friend of mine. He may look like an ancient fossil dug out of the mud, but, the empire''s imperial spellcasters aside, he''s the best there is this side of the continent."


    The spellcaster gave Nix a contrary glare, brushing the cheeky swordsmans''s hand from his shoulder, before offering the Zane family a curt nod, "Do you hear this fool? Fossils harden with age, unlike the bones of the young. Platinum rank, Mithril if you count my years of experience." He finished his introduction with a skillful twirl of an ornate short-stave.


    Nix then gestured toward the slender elven woman to his side, "This Elven damsel here is Falliva."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    She bowed slightly, the tip of a bow peeking out from behind her braids, but remained silent. A necklace, similar to the ones visible around Yorn''s and Nix''s necks, had a silver tab of metal as its focus.


    "She''s a bit... quiet. That said, she''s an excellent guide for the route we''ll be taking."


    He then turned toward a robed figure, who apparently did not notice or care about Nix''s gesture to come forward, "And the mystery fellow over there with the hood... that''s Vijik. We''ve worked with ''them'' for a while and... to be honest, I''m not sure what they''re fully capable of... or for that matter, what they''re like. They''re plenty strong though, I''ll testify to that!"


    Zane bowed, gesturing for his wife to do the same, "It''s a pleasure. We''ll be in your care for the duration."


    "Guild law states that groups of no less than five are to take on escort missions..." Nix mused, scratching his head, "But the master made an exception for our ranks. Busy this time of year, you know, not too many around to take on jobs. Don''t worry though, we''ll be more than enough!"


    "All the more reassuring that they would acknowledge your skills."


    "Aha, right you are!"


    The volume around them rose to a deafening pitch as the crowd began to cheer.


    "Oho, that must be the prince''s entourage!" Nix cried over the din.


    "I apologize for calling you out today."


    Yorn slammed the end of his staff into the ground, "What rubbish would a youngster like him have to say? I''m sure the royal family is only putting the poor lad on a pedestal. Ending the war? What a farce! Let''s be off before the little fool''s misfortunate spreads to us."


    The Delarks quickly boarded the carriage, Nix taking the reins of the two odd-looking beasts of burden harnessed at its front, while Falliva took charge of cart''s. They resembled a kind of reptilian creature, their scales rough and dark as the night sky. Their rotund bodies, nearly cylindrical in shape, were supported by their extremely muscular limbs, which were four in total.


    Once free of the congested road, they made their way out of the city via the northern gates. Nix fumbled with a roll of parchment as he drove the reptiles forward, "Our first stop will be the village of Hunt, just outside the Navir Forest. I expect we''ll be there before the end of next month. We''ll stop there for some rest before continuing into Thessolia''s fiefdoms, and from there to Pirsk." He called down into the carriage cabin.


    "I recall taking a similar route... but admittedly I wasn''t paying too much attention to where I was going," Zane returned.


    "You''ve done your own fair bit of traveling, have you?" Yorn asked, seated opposite the family.


    "Yes... I used to live in Pirsk nearly a decade ago with my father."


    "What in blazes brought you out here then?"


    "A handful of wishes and less of gold, perhaps?"


    Nix''s laughter erupted from the pilot''s seat outside, "Hah, haven''t we all? You would''ve made a fine adventurer!"


    "Would I?"


    "Of course! I only had wishes when I began, and look at me now! Look at all of us!"


    Zane laughed along with the jovial swordsman, "In another time, another place, you might be right."


    The days of their trip were spent talking over the rattling of carriage wheels, while the nights beckoned them to huddle around a fire. Nix called upon Yorn to recount tales of his youth, shortening the darkness of the woods of Navir around them with the fiery years of passion and grit he retold. Ogres, dragons, mythical creatures entirely new to Zane and Milina held their rapt attention. Even little Telsi held her peace when the stories began, ceasing fits of crying and tantrums when Yorn''s husky voice spun scores written over a lifetime.


    "...It was after I cast a paralyzing spell upon the beast, that my old comrade Garoth drove his blade squarely into its eye. It was a sight to behold!"


    A round of applause later, Zane leaned forward from his seat on a nearby stone on the roadside, "This Garoth seems pretty famous."


    "Yes, he was. He was one of the few Adamantite ranked human adventurers, his strength and skill with the greatsword were well known. I was but a mere silver rank then, but despite that, he and I were friends, which was a surprise even for myself."


    "What happened to him?"


    The old sage sighed, "It was a tragic thing. It was not long after that the guild sent him on an errand for the royal family, to the Demihumans."


    "Before the war?"


    "Naturally. He and several other adamantites were to accompany one of the empire''s diplomats, whose task was to broach an armistice with the royalty there. Perhaps it was a lack of proper etiquette or an unfortunate slip of the tongue, but the lot of them were executed the day after their arrival. Their heads were sent back as a warning, and that was that for several decades."


    Milina recoiled, "How terrible."


    "Indeed. Which begs the question of why the empire, the Demihumans, and the Inhumans were so willing to accept the prince as the herald of peace."


    Yorn stroked his short beard thoughtfully, then stood with a conclusive wave of his hand, "That''ll be all for tonight, I feel a little tired after recalling all of that..." He stopped suddenly, his hand poised in the air. Zane started to ask why, but a hushed whisper caused him to freeze in place.


    "Don''t move."


    The sage motioned for Nix, who was seated alongside the Delarks, "It''s about time we earned our keep for these young ones. They have us surrounded."


    Nix reached for the broadsword laid beside him, "How many?"


    "Near too many to count. They''re a rather nasty bunch too. The aura they''re giving off isn''t natural."


    Falliva, who was quietly seated away from them near the carriage, disappeared into the surrounding trees. The last group member, the robed Vijik, remained seated, unmoving from his spot in the back of the supply cart.


    "Here they come!"


    A deathly howl wrenched the still night''s silence into chaos. From the depths of the woods came eyes, ringed with fire. Where their paws touched, flames took hold of the forest grass, burning the flora to cinders.


    "Wolves!?" Nix exclaimed, his sword drawn.


    "They''re no ordinary wolves... I''ve never seen anything quite like it. Stay vigilant, I sense something far more sinister near their back ranks."

 8. A Desperate Defense was Mounted (Prologue end)

    Every second that passed, the same number of beasts materialized from the forest''s shadows. Strings of saliva, steaming from the intense heat of their maws, barely touched the ground before evaporating into the still air. Fearsome, a presence so immense that, if their size didn''t bring a fully grown man to their knees, then their appearance alone would convince him that there, at that moment, his life was forfeit.


    "Young Delarks, I''m certain this goes without saying, but I will anyway. Flee with the carriage!" Yorn bellowed over the collective dirge of the hounds, "Ah... only one year left... retirement seems so close, yet impossible..." He sighed under his breath.


    Before Zane or Milina could respond, the sage drove his stave into the ground. His lips parted and closed, but nothing came from them as he chanted, eyes shut tight in a trance-like state. When his mouth closed for the last time, one of the beasts was already on top of him, its teeth closing around his aged neck.


    "Chronus Lock!"


    The Delarks watched the rapid series of events that followed in complete astonishment. As soon as Yorn finished his spell, his eyes snapped open, and the offending beast''s flaming body halted in midair. Additionally, the spell seemed to affect a large number of the other advancing wolves, stopping them dead several dozens of paces away.


    "Well? Are you going to let an old fossil burn to these devils, eh?"


    A blur with Nix''s face passed by him, "They won''t singe a single gray hair on your head!"


    Blood erupted from Yorn''s quarry, its head fell to the ground, cleanly severed.


    The sage raised his gaze up to the branches above, "Young lass up in the trees, clear a way, if you would."


    Leaves rustled, and arrows whizzed out from above in rapid succession, felling some that managed to avoid Yorn''s spell. It also cleared a path through to the carriage.


    "Snap to it, Delark! It won''t stay open forever!"


    Awestruck, and weak in the knees from shock, Zane snapped to his senses at Yorn''s sharp command.


    "R-right. I''ll need time to harness the team!"


    "We''ll give it. Just hurry!"


    The young merchant nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste toward the reptilians tethered to a small patch of trees near the carriage. He exhaled a pent-up breath, relieved to see no harm came to them. Milina, who he had led by the wrist, struggled to keep Telsi quiet, as to not startle the beasts of burden anymore than they already were.


    "Whoah, easy, easy!"


    They were, reasonably so, alarmed by the situation. Rearing on their hind legs, they pulled their tethers dangerously taut, scaly tails whipping about instinctively to defend themselves. Unfortunately, that didn''t help the hapless merchant in the slightest.


    "Milina, take Telsi and hide in the carriage! I''ll be with you as soon as I can!"You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    She nodded, and wordlessly ran toward the carriage, shutting herself inside.


    While Zane struggled to calm the reptiles down, the battle between the adventurers and wolves heightened in intensity.


    "The spell''s weakening! Finish them quickly!"


    Arrows hailed down on the immobilized beasts, while flashes of metal and streams of blood glistened in the light of the wolves'' immolation. It was a frantic race against time, however, the adventurers'' success was not fated to be.


    "There''s not enough time!" Nix yelled.


    Sure enough, the spell''s effect wore off only moments after. Frenzied by the stench of fresh blood, they barreled toward Yorn, who stood at the epicenter of the fray, vulnerable to an all-out assault from multiple sides.


    "I won''t go down so easily, wretched mutts!"


    Once more, he began to chant. Shards of ice crystallized around his outstretched hand.


    "Friguic javelins!"


    He directed the blast squarely at a cluster of oncoming wolves. Some hit their marks, embedding themselves into skulls, eyes, and limbs, while others shattered against the ground, leaving behind icy caltrops to hinder the progress of those behind. For those who managed to emerge unscathed from the deadly barrage, it only seemed to cause further aggravation.


    "Hmph, stubborn bastards, aren''t you?"


    The distance between them quickly closed. Two of the frontrunners pounced onto the old sage, latching onto both of his arms, the force of their impact knocking him to the ground.


    "Yorn!" Nix cried while engaged with a dozen of his own.


    "Forget about me! Ensure the Delarks'' safety!"


    "But..."


    "Don''t underestimate me, youngster! I''m far from finished!"


    In a split second, arrows protruded from the wolves menacing Nix.


    "Falliva, keep the old man covered while I.."


    His words snagged against the newly formed lump in his throat.


    "It''s... so hot!"


    The trees charred, fresh buds shriveled, and the grass underneath their feet wilted. Smoke whirled about in the sudden cyclone generated by the heatwave, ejecting the ashes high into the night sky. At that moment, time stood still. Zane, wrestling with the lizards'' reins, looked back at the battle, as did Vijik, who turned toward the bloody scene, still in the cart. All eyes came to rest on one focus.


    Despair.


    If one were to describe the feeling of pure terror, it would probably involve an increase in heart rate, respiration, and a paradoxical urge to flee with no escape. But for the Delarks and their escorts, terror wasn''t exclusive to these things. Instead, the manifestation of the fear they barely managed to swallow earlier for their own sakes, arose as an inferno before their eyes.


    One. Two. Three. Four. The heads thrashed in chaotic harmony high above the now-barren forest, wreathed in halos of sanguine flame.


    "RUN!"


    Yorn''s unusually panicked order echoed in the silence proceeding the behemoth''s arrival.


    As though petrified by the monster''s sudden appearance, the lizards froze in place. Zane dragged on them as hard as he could, driven by the monstrosity behind him. In seconds, the beasts were harnessed, and he threw himself atop the pilot''s seat of the carriage, reins in hand.


    "Hiyaah!"


    The carriage careened along the forest path. Zane could see little of it, darkened by the night of a new moon, he wasn''t blessed with the gift of light. He could only pray the path would be clear ahead...


    A rush of wind, followed by an upending of the world around him made Zane realize that it wasn''t. Maybe it was the lurching sensation in his stomach that filled his thoughts with Milina, and little Telsi, or the rapidly approaching howls. As his body arced through the air, he turned his head, desperate to catch a glimpse of the carriage in the darkness. He saw it.


    The carriage danced perilously for a split second, having ramped onto two of its wheels from a fallen tree across the path, before overturning with a loud crash. The lizards had fled, their harnesses snapped from their immense strength and the carriage''s abrupt collision.


    No...


    His hands reached out for the ruined carriage as he fell. A dim light in the distance grew brighter and brighter, the howls strengthening, growing in number.


    No... please...


    As he landed on his back, he could barely see through the undergrowth, Milina''s head slowly emerging from the wreckage.


    Not like this...


    For a fleeting moment, a frantic, inaudible scream.


    In his final seconds of consciousness, Zane saw pawprints, blazing a trail of destruction in the direction of the carriage.


    "Milina...!"

 9. The crossroads where a god and a man meet

    Curious...


    For how long have I been awake?


    My last remembrance... the Exodus... Majestic... how much time has passed since then?


    No thoughts or sensations stirred my lost spirit for what seemed an eternity, yet now, whimsically, I am.


    Is it to spite me? Does the void revel in my defeat? Hm... it''s presumptuous to go so far. Whether its driven by preference or by chance, no amount of thought will bring its intentions to light.


    Nevertheless, now that I have become aware of my renewed being, I mustn''t overlook the obvious...


    Was I not meant to drift to obscurity? Are you not yet finished with me, Exodus?


    Gradually, the dark veil of the void raised from Dorusc''s spirit. The light of something beyond the Exodus'' interior radiated from a small aperture in the stillness.


    What''s this? A window?


    Cautiously, The Aloof One peered through.


    The glare gave way to the light oranges of dawn. Streaks of cirrus splashed with the soft colors painted the dark blue sky. Some distance away, voices could be heard.


    "...And look where we are now. If we hadn''t listened to her, they would be standing here now!"


    "How could she have known... no, how could we know that ''thing'' would show up?"


    "Brainless imbecile! If the path was this treacherous, she shouldn''t have chosen it!"


    "The hell do you mean? Failliva has traveled through Navir for decades, it''s practically her second home! She said it was safe this time of year, so the only reasonable decision was to follow her advice!"


    "Why do you insist on defending that silly vixen! Or maybe your nether regions are guiding your commonsense these days?"


    "That''s beside the point. She couldn''t have known! And while we''re at it, who was the ''wise sage'' who suggested we take that charlatan along?"


    Whose voices are those? They don''t belong to Majestic, nor to any of the deities of the Circle.


    A voice came from deep within Dorusc, "Nix... is that you?" It said with a lethargic groan.


    This voice, it isn''t mine...


    The argument abruptly stopped.


    "Master Delark!"


    "By the gods, you''re alive then! We thought you''d left us to dance with mistress death!"


    "Yorn?"


    What is this?


    "Milina... where is she?"


    Who are they?


    "Master Delark, take it easy, you only just came to!"


    "Where is Milina? I saw her before... in the carriage..."


    Are they... mortals?


    "Let me go, I must see her!"


    "You bellow louder than a fire dragon, you fool! We barely managed to escape! Do you wish to call hellfire down upon us again?!"


    This body... it''s not my own?


    "Unhand me, you bastards! Where is she... I must see her!"


    "She''s gone, you crazed fool! Can''t you understand!"


    Hm? This feeling... why do I feel... anxious?


    Slowly, a soft fog glazed over the window. Dorusc attempted to wipe it away, but every time he did, it crept over its surface to replace what was lost.


    "Lies... I want to see... for myself..."


    "You won''t feel any better for it, Master Delark. Just let it be."Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "No. perhaps it''s better to let him."


    "Yorn..!"


    "The lad will lose his mind if he''s denied any longer. It''s... on our heads now, whatever becomes of him..."


    Their grips loosened. Dorusc could feel himself lurch forward.


    "Milina!"


    In a seemingly endless cycle, the window fogged and cleared, hands not belonging to Dorusc rose in a futile attempt to wipe it away. Foliage, charred beyond recognition, rushed past in a disorienting blur. His view came to rest on the burnt wreckage of an overturned carriage. It still smoldered, wisps of smoke rising from the inside where a foul odor mingled.


    In two frantic attempts, the owner''s body heaved itself onto the carriage''s side. Hands reached forth, pulling the ember-riddled door open. The nauseating stench caused him to retch, and the contents of his stomach poured over the carriage''s surface.


    Dorusc peered into the carriage''s interior.


    Nghh... what is this pain? It bearing down on me, not unlike the relentless agony of Majestic''s lance, yet it cuts deeper.


    "Hah...hah..."


    "Master Delark, control yourself!"


    A hand reached down into the carriage, retrieving a fragment of wood tangled in the frayed, blackened cloth of the seating. Sharp on one end, its point turned about to aim inward toward Dorusc''s eyes.


    "It''s all my fault... you didn''t deserve this... not Telsi either. I-if we just stayed, we could''ve lived our lives till the end..."


    "Stop him, Fallon!"


    The point of the shard came closer, "Because of my selfishness... because of my failures as a son... is this divine retribution? Do the gods despise me, for what I''ve done?"


    As it disappeared underneath his chin, a hand appeared in Dorusc''s peripheral vision and wrenched the wooden shiv away.


    "Don''t lose yourself, Master Delark!"


    Slowly, the view panned toward a heavily built man, who had just clambered onto the wreckage. Skewed to one side, presumably from the heavily bandaged leg he shifted from, armor dangling in places where the straps were burnt through, he tossed aside the wooden shiv.


    "Think before you do anything rash! Would they want you to do this?"


    "But I... they..."


    "Would they!"


    The view shifted toward the ground, where large droplets fell, "What do you expect me to do!"


    "..."


    "T-tell me what happened..."


    After several hobbles, the old sage, who clutched at his bandaged arms, finally caught up, and looked up towards the top of the overturned cart, "After you fled, the smaller beasts left in pursuit. I was surprised when the daft ones holding onto me decided that I wasn''t worth their time."


    Nix nodded, "Mhm. Though that wasn''t the most surprising... or maybe it wasn''t a surprise, in hindsight."


    "Let''s not, shall we?" Yorn spat.


    "Vijik stole the cart, supplies, and the last Krijikan, and left us behind as soon as that ''thing'' appeared. Those are the facts, old man. At least take responsibility for your mistakes."


    "Hmph!"


    "But as Yorn mentioned, we were able to escape that monster. It was far too large to keep up with us, but..." Nix''s voice quivered, "It was terrifying. No question about it, it was the head of those monsters, in more ways than one. If they hadn''t left, we wouldn''t have lived long enough to see the dawn."


    "That greenhorn elf found you in a pile of ashes. It was a wonder you were even alive. We thought you were dead only moments ago!"


    The view remained fixed to the ground, the voice Dorusc had heard from before was quite still.


    "I''m- we''re..."


    "Spare your sympathies until after we''ve left this wretched forest, Nix."


    "We... should at least bury them."


    "Wha- ahem... I suppose we should."


    ...


    So this was what the Exodus intended for me? To witness human misery?


    Laughable. Though I suppose I have no choice in the matter, imprisoned here in the void as I am.


    And so, Dorusc observed. He watched the burial of charred remains, indistinguishable from the mother and child they once were. It was a bleak affair, the faces of those in attendance the very eulogy said over the bodies'' small hole in the ground; a single hole, as there was barely enough leftover for another. As for their departure from the ruined section of the forest, which amounted to little more than a death march after the loss of the carriage and Krijikan Lizards, it was more of the same. Not a word was spoken between the elderly sage, wounded swordsman, elf, and merchant. Perhaps the adventurers believed it to be an act of kindness, or merely a numbness to grief. Either way, Dorusc''s view of the world remained clouded for many days and nights.


    The tense silence broke only upon their arrival at the village of Hunt, a week later. The four huddled in its town hall, where the elder, having heard their plight, kindly let them stay until they could arrange for new transportation.


    "We''ve decided to go with you all the way, Master Delark." Nix said. He jumped a little at the touch of a young woman, who tended to his burn wounds.


    "Y-you don''t have to do that... just leave me here... Yorn, Nix, Falliva, you all risked yourselves for us... for them... you don''t need to do anymore..."


    "Agh!" Nix roared, as the bandages came off his leg.


    "Are you alright sir?"


    "Oh, never better, miss. Never better."


    "Our healer is out today. I''m sorry you couldn''t get to see her, your leg is in dreadful condition."


    "Don''t fret over it. It''ll heal real quick, I''m tough after all!"


    Nix turned his attention back to Zane, "We only did our jobs, it''s in the description. Facing danger, getting hurt, even butting heads with your mates..." He bowed his head, "But not what happened out there. There was no reason..."


    "It''s the only thing we can do. We take full responsibility for your loss... as meaningless as that may be to you now. There are no words we can say that can help you, nor is there any spell I can cast to smother your grief. Even so, we''ll uphold our promise to take you to Pirsk." Yorn interrupted while following Nix''s example.


    "..."


    A light padding of feet announced the return of Falliva, who had left for sundries for the day. She approached Zane, and kneeled close. Her unwavering, vacant stare locked with his. Her hand reached for his cheek and caressed it gently.


    "Live."


    Then, without another word, she slumped onto a wall, secluding herself in the far corner of the hall.


    "That''s the first time that silly girl''s said anything this entire trip!" Yorn snorted, "In any case, t''s up to you, Delark. As for myself, I need to rest my weary bones. There were days when I could trek the entire world to its very edge, but not anymore..."


    The hall fell silent, the only sounds heard were Yorn''s muted snores as he slept on a blanket gifted by Hunt''s residents.


    "He acts the spiteful old man, but he''s lost many comrades over the years. I''m sure he understands what you''re going through."


    "..."


    Nix''s troubled face shared a moment of mutual sympathy with its recipient, before turning away.


    "See you in the morning."

 10. From the ashes

    In the few short millennia I have existed, even the tedium of my isolated life didn''t irk me. But here in the void, where my only sight of a world outside its interior is through this singular window, it''s become unbearable, the suffering of mortals aside. Few were the times I thought to look down upon the mortal realms through Contemplation for that very reason. To be forced to watch them, in such a manner is... vexing.


    What''s more, neither Contemplation nor my eyes can penetrate the void''s depths, which forces me to rely on the only information available: whatever I see through the eyes of this mortal. Unfortunately, what little I see of this world is useless, as none of it alludes to the happenings in the Realm. The only indication of what has happened so far is the lack of any substantial destruction to this world, which could imply either Majestic''s plan hasn''t come to fruition or simply isn''t the world that cretin designed for ruin.


    Despite all of that, I''m left with more questions than answers. What has happened during my absence from the Realm? What has become of my servant, Faerie? Where... or what is this world? And if, in the unlikely event I break free, how can I return to throw Majestic into this hell? It would be fitting. He seeks destruction, so why not allow him the honor of reveling in its very embodiment?


    As Dorusc pondered what he''s seen thus far, roughly two weeks had passed since the battle in Navir. The town hall, now that summer had taken hold, became almost unbearable from the season''s heat. Which drove the wounded of the three remaining adventurers to their wit''s end, miraculously ''healing'' their wounds within only hours of suffering the heat. In short, they wanted out.


    "We''ll be going outside for a bit, Master Delark. It''s a bit stuffy in here. Why don''t you come with us?"


    "..."


    "Master Delark..."


    "As they say in Brosia, when a man sinks into despair the beauties of life become a sword through his heart. Leave him, only time can help him now, Fallon." Yorn said irritably.


    "But... ah... guess you''re right." Nix scratched his head, "Well, wish us luck. There probably aren''t too many spare carts around here, but we''ll do our best while we''re out- wait a minute, Brosia? You''ve been to the Demihuman kingdom?"


    The hall''s heavy Darkwood doors creaked open and shut as the two made their way outside. Zane sat hunched against a wall, hands clutching his shins in an upright fetal position. Slowly, he raised his head from between his arms and glanced at the far corner, where Falliva sat.


    "..."


    He hadn''t noticed the intense stare lasering into his forehead up until now, nor the brilliant sky blue of the eyes that did. He only returned her gaze for several minutes, then, once he could stand it no longer, "You think I''m pathetic, don''t you? I know. You don''t have to tell me. That look is all I need to know..." He wiped his eyes that had clouded once more, "I shouldn''t have left. I''m a merchant, and merchants belong in their rightful place. I abandoned the path of a shop owner long ago when I did the same to my father..."


    His tears flowed quite freely now.


    "Ha... look at me, a fully grown man in this state. I didn''t have the right to take up my father''s mantle or take her there. It was my punishment. I even tried to escape it... I didn''t deserve death, I deserved far worse than that, but still... it''s too much to bear anymore!"


    "You''re wrong," The words came as a surprise to Zane. This was the second time she''d spoken since she told him to live. What that ''live'' did, he couldn''t really fathom. Death seemed the only cure for what ailed him. Anything less was nothing more than a tragedy, both to himself, and the gods watching over him, who were no doubt poised with calamity over his head.


    "W-what are you saying...?"The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "You don''t."


    "But I..."


    "But what?"


    "Ah..."


    The elf let out a short, exasperated sigh, nearly inaudible from so far away, "Humans never change, do they? Is it your lifespans that force you to forever look inward?"


    "..."


    "Go out there, you never will if you don''t take the first step, "She pointed toward the doors, "Your loss is heavy, so are the ones our party and comrades have lived and died through, yet we kept them because we didn''t have a choice."


    "That''s just..."


    "Just what?"


    Speechless, Zane struggled to find words to defend himself, but couldn''t.


    "It wasn''t your fault, it''s mine."


    "Ha...?"


    "Yorn said it. It''s mine, for not considering the possibility of monsters like those."


    "But Nix..."


    "Knows nothing." Quite suddenly, Falliva stood. The distance between them closed rapidly in the half-dozen steps she took, telling of the graceful length of her legs underneath rugged trousers. She kneeled in front of him, proffering a curved hunting knife, "If anyone deserves death, it''s me. If taking my life will take you out of here, I''ll gladly give it."


    Silvery, the gloss reflected his haggard face, as if to show him just how pitiful he had become. No doubt Falliva put many hours into honing it, and many more years over. What faces did she see in it? Were they all as defenseless as he was? As they were?


    "Put it away."


    "Are you going to run from this opportunity?"


    "The burden is mine alone. Letting someone else take it with them is... wrong."


    For a brief moment, her face flashed a hint of doubt. "So be it," She said, sheathing the dagger, "I will not offer it again. Now, will you stand?"


    It wasn''t a question, but rather a stern command. The terseness of it made Zane reflexively twitch in annoyance, something he hadn''t felt for some time. Wordlessly, he stood, and with a slight jab in the back from Falliva, the two exited the hall. Annoyed as he was by the elf''s presumptuousness, he felt some of the weight on his shoulders had lifted. Even if it was only a mote of ash, he felt he had risen, ever so slightly from an insurmountable pile.


    "Thank you," Zane said in passing.


    "You weren''t the only reason."


    "Even so, thank you."


    Dorusc watched the scene play out through his window vantage point. The irony of a mortal''s melodrama. It all falls flat, anticlimactic even at its zenith. Taking her life would''ve been more interesting. His disappointment, however, went unheeded in the void.


    Unsurprisingly, the heat wasn''t alleviated at all by the transition outdoors. In fact, the little breeze that blew by convection-cooked Zane''s skin. Within minutes, his body was coated in a sheen of sweat. Undaunted, he glanced around the small village of Hunt, taking in its sights for the first time in the week they stayed here. Sure enough, the men, women, and children of the small village were in the same condition as he was. Some took refuge underneath the umbrellas of shade trees and rooves the sparsely placed domiciles, while others, still preoccupied with some errand or another, adopted a similar strategy of ducking underneath tactically organized spots of shadow.


    "Land-locked villages are so much hotter than Narwell." Zane commented, to no one in particular. Then, he looked back at Falliva behind him. "How are you fine with all of this?"


    "Elves don''t sweat." She replied matter of factly.


    "How fortunate for you then."


    They had walked for several minutes and soon found that they had already walked the entirety of Hunt. It didn''t seem to have any rhyme or reason, or any pattern to its shape, other than a haphazard arrangement of housing on the northern side, while several longhouses that functioned as storehouses, the town hall, and numerous wooden siloes were situated more to the south. All this was surrounded by a palisade, the height of three men and a little more, with short towers at the corners and midpoints. All told, there were eight towers, ten if counting the gates at the north and south sections.


    Beyond the wooden walls, along the path they had taken to get there, an expanse of wheat and other grain crops took up the land far to the north, and back to the south from where they came. The sea of gold stopped several miles short of the forest. Which was barely visible over the rise of a hill.


    "Things seem so... simple here." Zane mused. The lack of technology and architecture was painfully obvious to someone who had lived in the Thessolian capitol and the prosperous Narwell both.


    "It''s isolated from the rest of empire and the surrounding cities by the forest, so it hasn''t grown much over the years. Not many seek it out since the forest is home to monsters..." She stopped halfway into her sentence to glance at Zane with a somewhat hesitant expression.


    "It''s fine."


    "Most caravans going to Narwell go around it, completely missing the village," she continued, "during the spring is when the more dangerous beasts migrate out of the forest for breeding. That''s when anyone wanting to get out, or in, does."


    "Then how do they deal with those monsters?"


    "They..." She began, but was interrupted by a commotion near the southern gate, not too far from where they had stopped to talk, "Are over there right now."


    "Who?"

 11. The Bloodstaves

    It was a month ago when he sent them out into the forest. Maybe it wasn''t so much as sending, inasmuch as hesitant agreement with the Bloodstaves. There was little chance of finding the children, even if they disappeared during the Great Migration. It was too much of a risk for the only two adventurers the village had. But what was he, the village elder, going to say to the mothers of those poor children if he refused?


    No one manned gates the night of the little ones'' disappearances. After all, it was the final day of the three-day-long Seeding festival. It was a yearly tradition before the second planting, in the hope that the one previous, and the next, would prosper. Everyone in the village would participate on the final day. And in years past, incidents like this were unprecedented, as far as he could remember. The palisade was more than enough for the stray monsters that still remained after the Migration and, consequently, it seemed innocuous enough to recall the guard to enjoy the last day of festivities. Never did he believe that children would be the ones to breach the southern gate.


    Their absence was noticed when the last chorus of song and dance ended, but that was much too late. After the discovery, he ordered searches that lasted well into the next morning, with little success. The results? Three sets of tracks. All that ended abruptly at the boundary between the wheat fields and the grounds outside the palisade. There was no indication of direction, or any trace left behind.


    He could still remember the first few nights as clearly as if it were yesterday, their cries. The two mothers'' unanswered calls into the forest from atop the palisade parapet. Dreadful dirges, mournful. Sounds he couldn''t sleep by for the remorse he felt. Even now, a month later, their voices echoed in the back of his mind, as he solemnly watched the four figures that approached the south gate.


    Three of them were men, two young, spry, and agile, fitted with light plate armor. Two of a younger generation of watchmen who had bravely volunteered to join the Bloodstaves'' search party, no doubt to redeem what they thought was their unforgivable sin. Their armor, sword, and spear were family heirlooms, as there was no smithy capable of such violent craftsmanship in the village. He recalled the plate was immaculately polished before, neither tarnished nor worn from physical damage. No doubt the centerpieces of their respective families'' pride of adventuring long before their generation. As they drew closer, he noted the breastplates were warped, gauntlets and pauldrons scored. Vicious tears through the leather at the joints made a sorry state for the family treasures. The expressions of the two wearing them weren''t any better, fatigued as they were.


    At the fore, was the leader, whose graying hairs nearly matched the hues of his ragged cloak. His battered features were almost obscured by that hair, untidy from the month abroad. Well known in the village and in the fiefdoms of the Empire, Regulus Bloodstave was once a spellcaster. As was the one that followed step close beside him, his long-time adventuring partner and wife, Cirri.


    The elder gave them a weak smile in greeting as they reached the gate''s threshold, "Regulus, Cirri, Nikla, Case, you''ve returned safely. I''m glad."


    "As are we, Knor. It was a long month in Navir, not one we''d wish to repeat." Regulus returned.


    "You all are in such a dreadful state, surely the Migration thinned out the stronger beasts?"


    Regulus scowled, "Unfortunately, that no longer seems to be the case."


    "What of the children?"


    "Not a sign anywhere."


    "Oh gods above have mercy..."


    Cirri lowered her head, "Our apologies, elder. If we were better prepared as a party, maybe there were some traces we could''ve found¡ª"


    "You did everything you could. If a month has passed with no sign, then I''m afraid there is nothing more to be done. As for the poor mothers of the little ones..." Knor inhaled, stifling the waver in his voice, "There will be no consoling them."


    Knor turned to look back at the expectant faces of the villagers behind him. As much as it pained him so, there would be three fewer souls among their number this year. His heart fell when his gaze came to rest on the faces of their mothers. Their eyes lit up for a fleeting moment, the hope that their children had been found radiated from their faces. They crumbled into quiet sobs as he turned away.


    "I was hoping to tell them when the time was right."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "It would''ve come sooner or later."


    "We have other news, elder Knor, but it will have to wait until we can find somewhere to discuss it." Cirri''s tone threw Knor off-guard somewhat. The look she wore spelled a certain gravity, far removed from the calm mien he had come to know so well.


    "O-oh, I see."


    Cirri shifted to one leg, anxiously scanning the crowd behind Knor. Her eyes lit up, "Falliva, is that you?" She called out to the elf, who parted the onlooking villages in her wake.


    Following close behind was that Delark fellow. Apparently, he went through an ordeal himself, but with the matter of the missing children, Knor didn''t have the time or energy to pay much attention to him. Falliva and the other adventurers in her party didn''t say much either. Other than a vague comment of monsters from the swordsman, they were very quiet about it. "Ah, Falliva, you''ve come." He smiled.


    She nodded, before accepting Cirri''s rushed embrace.


    "It''s been too long, where have you been?" Cirri cried.


    "Working."


    After a few seconds more, Cirri let go and glanced in Zane''s direction, who had been standing quietly to the side. The elder presumed it was to not disturb their reunion. How thoughtful.


    "Ah, that felt good. So, who''s he?" Cirri asked.


    "My work. Escort duty."


    Zane tucked his left leg behind his right, and bowed at a precise forty-degree angle toward the spellcastress, "My name is Zane, Delark."


    "Oh, I see. That''s a Narwell greeting if I''m not mistaken." She appraised Zane''s haggard appearance with impunity, "He needs a bath. And a proper shave. Not that I can say much, we all need a bit of a wash, don''t we?"


    There wasn''t time for this sort of chatter. While it was a reunion between old friends, Knor needed to know what it was the search party found. He cleared his throat, the kind that could tear even mortal enemies apart. On occasion, it did just that among the young rabble of the village. Cirri started a little at the interruption and looked sheepishly at him as one of those rascals might, bless their poor souls. Of course, no matter how serious she became from the tribulations of adventuring, that woman had the heart of a child. Inwardly, he was grateful that was the case.


    "Oh... right. I would love to sit and chat, but Regulus and I have to talk with the elder. Maybe we can have some tea after?"


    "Sure."


    ******************************************************************


    "I see." Knor paused, as he sat across from the Bloodstaves at table. They all moved indoors into the elder''s dwelling, where he heard all that had transpired to them and the two lads, hands clasped pensively. What they had to say was honestly too much to take in for him.


    No traces were found of the children, not even after three weeks spent in a wide arc spanning hundreds of acres of forest. Unsurprisingly, it was the party that was found instead. By monsters. For the most part, they were goblins, for less, a certain breed of feral boar.


    Weak, knobbly creatures with little more than stumps to stand on. If it weren''t for what could be considered club-feet, it would be deemed a miracle goblins could achieve locomotion on two limbs. In numbers, they could amount to a minor nuisance, with their improvised weaponry. But not for the Bloodstaves.


    The monster attacks weren''t out of the ordinary. On the contrary, they were to be expected. But what bothered Knor, and the Bloodstaves, was that the goblin''s presence near the northern side of the forest was bizarre. The southern flank of the forest was where they nested. Caves and rocky outcrops there provided natural shelters for them. For them to come this far, a three-week journey through the monster-infested forest, albeit Migration-inhibited as it may have been, was extraordinary. It meant that something other than their own absentminded wit forced them here.


    At the time, Cirri had suggested that the goblins were likely nearby when the children disappeared. They were, after all, marginally sapient creatures capable of kidnapping, for what purpose neither of them knew. With that suspicion, the party tracked down several small bands, raiding them during the day as they slept. However, they weren''t to be found. There weren''t any known caves on the northern side, yet the existence of hidden ones couldn''t be ruled out. There was no way to know where, or even which, the children could be held in, if they were alive at all.


    Regulus was reluctant to give up the search as the month neared its end. Unfortunately, waning supplies and strength had a stronger say in the matter, so they returned. That was when they discovered that the forest was gone.


    It hadn''t disappeared. Instead, large tracts were simply razed to the ground. Not a single twig stood atop another or a tree upon the ground in these gargantuan swathes of land. Which was whitened by the ashes left behind. This news was what astonished Knor the most.


    "Do you have any idea what could have caused the damage?"


    "None elder. Other than a fire dragon," Regulus proffered, in a detached, almost defeated way, "And if it was a Killandrok, then may the gods help us all."


    "Please, let''s not bring unnecessary calamities upon ourselves."


    The Bloodstaves fell silent. They had those faces, ones Knor only ever saw once. When they first came to Hunt, he saw them. It took far too much determination to cast aside a lifetime of regrets. Even more so for adventurers.


    "I recall those three adventurers that came with Delark mentioned something about monsters... they also arrived not too long after the time you began your return." He suddenly mused.


    The table shuddered underneath Regulus'' fist, "What?"


    "Dear, calm down."


    "Oh... forgive me, elder. I''m not myself these days."


    "It''s forgiven. We all aren''t ourselves after what''s happened. But more importantly, I believe it''s time that we hear what Delark and his escorts have to say."


    "I''ll bring them immediately." Regulus hastily rose from his seat.


    "Please do that."

 12. Confrontation

    Clearly, the Exodus is making a mockery of me.


    That window, his only salvation from the emptiness around him, was very stout in light of its simplicity. Understandably so. When its adversary was an ethereal nothingness, it was hard to imagine how it could fail to withstand his irritated outbursts. Interaction with it beyond light touches merely ricocheted off its surface. Dorusc began to suspect it had somehow intentionally blocked his assaults. This didn''t please him.


    When not preoccupied with expending his pent-up vitriol on the aperture, Dorusc examined what went on outside it. Nothing of import, as far as he was concerned. Mortals with little else to do but mourn over the deaths of their own kind. Ironic, in the sense that their deaths truly meant nothing to the Realm, or the gods they so freely called upon. Pernicious headache over nothing, laughable when compared against the vastness unseen by their eyes.


    He had noticed the villagers from before and their reunion. Some carried away two that had fainted a little before then from the heat, tear-stained creatures that they were. Gradually, they meandered their way back to whatever they were doing prior, leaving the gate shut and heavily guarded compared to before. People the voices around him referred to as the ''Elder" and the "Bloodstaves" separated from the young guardsmen to beat a hasty retreat from the gate area, and back to the village body.


    The day passed uneventfully, until early evening. Nothing had changed for Dorusc or his situation, much to his chagrin. However, things had picked up on the outside. The "Elder" from earlier was seated in front of him with two others, the "Bloodstaves". Several looks around him, undoubtedly brought on by his host''s unease, revealed that Dorusc wasn''t alone.


    The elf was seated beside him, or rather, beside the mortal named Zane, the host of his limited ken. Standing aloofly behind them brooded an agitated Yorn and disinclined Nix. The former was openly incensed, unafraid of displaying his rancor toward the elder and his compatriots, hand unconsciously fidgeting with his beard as he did. Supposedly, the two were interrupted in their search for a cart and beasts to pull it. At least, Dorusc assumed that to be the reason, however trivial it seemed.


    With his body racked by age, Knor wasn''t a very imposing figure while juxtaposed between the two ex-adventurers. In fact, he appeared a much smaller man between Regulus and Cirri, nearly obscured by their combined presence. Unperturbed by his frailty, he regarded his guests with a measured, yet austere look, "First, before we explain the reason for your summons, my apologies for pulling you away so abruptly from your day-"


    "Damned right you are!" Yorn hissed.


    "-however, guests or not, I have something to ask the four of you, who are under my care." He continued, straining that matter of obligation to the village''s hospitality, "I assume you already know what you''ve been brought here for then, spellcaster?"


    "Hmph."


    "I see. Then Regulus, if you would?"


    With a nod, the grizzled ex-adventurer addressed them in monotone, which seemed to mask a certain level of disdain for the recipients, "Tell us what you know about the burning forest."


    Dorusc''s view shifted toward Nix and Yorn. Nix cast a long, almost pleading look at Yorn, who merely scoffed.


    "We saw what was left. There was nothing but ash, for acres, and acres. Now, I''m not sure why that could be, but I have a suspicion that it''s related to you."


    "We saw nothing, heard nothing. End of story."


    Yorn''s curt response unfazed his stony-faced colleague. "Oh? You didn''t see a dragon-grade beast about? You didn''t hear anything out of the ordinary? I''m very surprised, I wasn''t aware people with working ears could be so deaf!"


    "Yorn, we really should tell them," Zane interrupted.


    "Our responsibility is only to you, Delark, not to some village bumpkins. We needn''t tell them anything."


    "What are you talking about, these people could be in danger if that monster shows up!"


    "I said we needn''t tell them a thing! Now let us handle this!"


    Now that they mentioned it, Dorusc did recall a certain discussion between the four of them before their arrival in Hunt. He didn''t think too much of it. It elucidated some points he''d largely ignored up until now. In particular, why Yorn warned not to tell the villagers of what transpired before his awakening. The sage was adamant about it, which intrigued Dorusc at the time.


    Death. Scorched earth with nothing left but ashes. Imagery like it was something of a mystery to him. That said, it was an idle mystery, though it did lead the Aloof One to question why he awakened at that point in time. Better yet, why the vestiges of his spirit were attached to this mortal.


    "I take it you refuse?"


    Yorn met the steadfast gaze directed at him with contempt but remained silent.


    "Then, for the sake of the village''s safety..."


    Summoned from the depths of his body, a halo of olive-green light enveloped the tall spellcaster. It stretched and, through some arcane morphology, shifted to accommodate an erect stance as he stood from the table. Unlike before, he bore an immensely formidable presence and stature. As though to amplify that, the air inside the elder''s home began to churn, blowing bits of dust about and ruffling the open curtains hanging over a nearby window, "I will have to ask you again. Will you tell us what happened?"Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Regulus, that''s enough."


    "But elder..."


    "Regulus. Please, I''d rather my home not be frozen and blown into the fiefdoms. We''ve enough to deal with as it is."


    "..."


    Reluctantly, he followed his senior''s orders. The aura dimmed, vanishing into viridescent wisps as they receded into his body. Likewise, the frost that had accumulated at the tips of Yorn''s fingers evaporated into steam. They didn''t, however, lower their guards any.


    Knor sighed at the farce of a meeting, "I understand that you have your reasons for withholding whatever you saw, but if it is as dangerous as your companion says, I cannot see the purpose-"


    "You need to leave."


    "Delark...!"


    "I''m sorry, but I can''t let them die."


    Everyone''s eyes turned to Zane. It was tense before, the animosity thrown between Yorn and Regulus until now was enough for that. Though his legs shook, the ruined merchant held his ground. In his mind, it was clear, just as if it happened moments ago. What happened that day.


    But he could stand the needless tension no longer.


    "You need to gather everyone in the village and run. It''s a monster beyond anything you could fight. Massive, with four heads. Red flames grasped the sky. It led an army of wolves like itself."


    That description. There was only one being like that. Dorusc had only ever seen them once, in Majestic''s chambers on the day of his supposed execution. The Underworld was home to many monstrosities. Endlessly, they flowed from the depths; a tidal wave of despair in the eyes of any mortal. Demons were among them, intelligent beings that, like deities, possessed certain powers over the underworld. It wasn''t inconceivable for them to be able to manipulate the mortal realm as they saw fit as well, though to a lesser degree. But for these mortals, and this world... if they were to traverse the dimensional veil between them, it was only a matter of time. While the lives of mortals were insignificant in his view, the view he had through this mortal''s eyes wasn''t. Any misfortunes that befell his host were cause enough for concern.


    But presently, there was only one beast that resembled what this mortal saw.


    A Cerberus. One of those hellhounds must have wandered its way through to this world as the veil weakened. If that were true, there wasn''t much time left until it fully shattered. Though how much that was exactly, was impossible to know.


    This was the kind of information Dorusc hoped for. Now he knew what the window showed him. There were some intimations, or rather a deeply buried idea that he put aside for fear of being right, that this world was Majestic''s plaything. If he could even call it that. In any other world, there might be some chance of reviving his old power, to return the favor dealt him. But here...


    Now I know the true reason the Exodus brought me here.


    It wasn''t to watch mortals, but rather to vanish with them when their world perished. So even his own creator had forsaken him.


    If that''s so, that even the Exodus would betray me... then I have no choice but to make it my enemy as well.


    Meanwhile, Knor sat in silence. Amid the numerous strained expressions, with the exception of Falliva''s stoic nirvana, his pensive expression seemed out of place.


    "Run?" He replied.


    "Yes, as far away as you can, with everyone you can." Zane urged.


    "You misunderstand. Run where?"


    "What are you saying? Anywhere!"


    "It''s not as simple as that, young Delark. Many in our village are old and have grown slow. I daresay their bones are just as fragile as mine these days. Do you expect them to run?"


    "Then we''ll carry them-"


    "Everything we have. Everything we''ve known since Hunt''s founding nearly a century ago is here. Even if we fled as you say, what would await us? Man can live without bread and water for some time, but without a home, or his pride, he will lose his life far sooner."


    Yorn snorted.


    "So you knew this?" The elder asked him.


    "Of course. Do you take me for a young fool like those before you?"


    "My apologies then. I assumed you meant us harm by not telling us. Is our future that bleak?"


    "Couldn''t get much worse."


    "Then... is it possible for you and your party to-"


    "I refuse."


    "That''s unfortunate then. With adventurers like you, we might have a chance... hah, I see."


    Knor leaned backward in his chair to gaze up at the ceiling in contemplation, "Cirri, what do you think?"


    She pointed at Yorn and Nix, "The obvious, I think we should heal these two before their wounds decide to fester."


    "Ha, that''s level thinking for you!"


    "Do you mind?" She asked.


    "Do what you like."


    "Please, we''d appreciate it."


    Cirri approached the two, her hands outstretched over Yorn and Nix. A dim yellow glow from her hands manifested tracery of the same from their heads, spreading across their bodies. The bandages on their wounds unraveled, wrapped neatly into rolls that Cirri then set aside on the floor. "This will sting a little."


    "We have healers back at the guild, so we''re well acquainted with the experience," Nix mentioned.


    "Good."


    Dorusc reeled slightly from a sense of revulsion through Zane. The bite wounds on Yorn''s arms had become a very dark Carmine, unlike the blood that slowly seeped from it. As for Nix, his leg was completely flensed, skin melted from the limb, exposing heavily disfigured stands of muscle underneath. In places where the skin met closely with bone, there was no skin, instead white bone protruded through, bespeckled by small flecks of char across its surface. Fortunately, cauterization had mitigated any possible infection, and blood loss was unlikely, but the sight was horrifyingly morbid.


    "My, you''ve been walking on this?" Cirri murmured, "Regenerating Light."


    Dorusc knew of the power of magic in mortal worlds, of course. It was a common facet among many of them, often comprising the elements and various other affinities of nature, not far removed from the power of gods. Seeing this healing spell was rather commonplace, albeit rare from the mortal''s point of view.


    The burnt flesh and the wounds on Yorn''s arms began to bubble and contort. Skin and flesh erupted from inside their limbs and rapidly spread over to cover the wounds, thoroughly sealing them, "Make sure to rest after this, I''m not using a healing spell like your guild''s healers do. You''ll feel a bit out of touch with your body until it adjusts to the loss of stamina."


    "Thank you."


    "It''s only a healer''s duty to take care of the wounded."


    "With that settled, we have no reason to keep you any longer. You''re free to go." Knor dismissed, ignoring the grumbling Regulus.


    The four rose and turned to leave, but were met by a sudden heavy banging on the front door. Knor rose alongside Regulus to answer it. It was one of the extra guards left behind at the southern gate.


    "Yes?" Knor inquired.


    The young guard panted, clearly having jogged from the gate all the way to the elder''s home. Between gasps, he made his report, "Elder, there''s smoke rising from the forest."

 13. The second clash

    Ominous pillars of hoar rose into the sky, wide as they were at their tallest before their peaks became intangible. The guardsman''s report belied the vastness of the destruction. If not for the danger ahead of them, Regulus would''ve honored the man with a drubbing for his negligence to detail, but thought better of it. When faced with a threat beyond even his reach as a once mithril-ranked spellcaster, he was loth to stand on discipline. Let alone the ceremony of it.


    He was joined by Cirri atop the southern parapet. Even though it was late into dusk, with the sun set, the horizon wasn''t quite as dark as it should have been. What Regulus expected to be mauve twilight there, instead glowed in mixed oranges and deep Carmine. It took him several minutes for his eyes to adjust to notice its steady growth in intensity and breadth.


    "How far away is it?"


    "No more than twenty kilometers away by a glass''s reckoning, sir."


    "That means we have about four hours to react." Cirri guessed, borrowing the looking glass from the sentry that led them there.


    Regulus nodded grimly, "Roughly that, maybe less. At the rate those flames are spreading, they might make better time with the trees downed. Three hours at least though."


    "That''s not nearly enough time to evacuate."


    That was what he feared. Despite the village''s meager population of a hundred and a dozen or so more, roughly half of them were far too aged to evacuate farther north, away from the coming battle. For others, it was a matter of devotion. Hunt was, as Knor implied, a prison of sorts, however voluntary it was. Its inhabitants may fear the end, but it was better than abandoning generations upon generations of heritage. The main difficulty in the evacuation would be just that. Stubbornness could be a virtue, but simultaneously deleterious in its nature.


    "We have to stall for time until everyone is clear. For now, gather up the rest of the guard to direct the evacuation."


    "What about you?"


    Regulus''s mouth curved into a wide grin, "it''d be a waste to let good target practice go to waste."


    "Just don''t die out there? Our little girl will kill you if you do. And don''t think I won''t join her."


    "Wouldn''t want to risk that, would I?" He leaned down to envelope Cirri in an embrace. It was easy to forget how small she was, "But just in case."


    "Don''t worry me like that." She tightened her grip on his sides.


    By what Delark had told them -objections from his escorts aside, the monster leading the wolves was rather sizeable and enormously powerful. Not that Regulus wasn''t aware of that already. The forest told that story all by itself. He easily mistook that scale of destructive power for a dragon, which was certainly no easy feat. Yet, his suspicion of dragons only felt like a euphemism for something far more sinister. Beasts like these were millennial catastrophes, and it was certainly more than half that since anyone laid eyes on one.


    It was too early.


    But to think that he had the opportunity to fight a legendary beast, on par with even a Kilandrok! Long before he met Cirri. he wished his death would come as an honorable one, carried by the claws and fangs of renowned monsters. The very thought electrified his entire body, as it still did now. Not with fear, or anxiety, but with pride. It was hard not to smile at that sort of nostalgia.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    That was then. There were things more important to him now than he could have predicted. Cirri called her little, but Corella was still in Pirsk working for the Empire''s guild. He had to make sure her parents were still around to come home to after receiving her Bronze Tab.


    He released Cirri to descend the southern battlements. Everything he needed was already on his person from the stint in the forest. There wasn''t a chance to take any of it off, which he desperately needed for the rank smell. Unfortunately, that would have to wait.


    There were a few frays on his mana cloak, no thanks to those monsters, but the wear hadn''t dispelled the enchantments emplaced. Physical and mana defense wardings, layered atop a base of mana amplification. The garment served its purpose well, even though the defense enchantments were somewhat redundant. Wind made for a potent barrier, after all.


    The gate opened after a wave to the guardsmen stationed there, "Tell the elder if I''m not back in an hour, don''t expect me to return."


    "Y-yes sir!"


    The words flowed so confidently through his unwavering smile, in part to ignore the uncertainty ahead of him, the rest to put the jittery young guards at ease. It would be a rough time, and although he might enjoy it, there were consequences should he fail. If these monsters were to defeat him too early... No, they wouldn''t. He would see to that.


    "Then I''ll be off..."


    Regulus had struck a runner''s starting stance. Before the guards could say anything more, a downdraft from the sky above arced toward his back, rocketing him forward.


    It wasn''t often he could let loose. Cirri was a healer and hadn''t the stamina to keep up with his wind. Their jobs together quite often reduced this technique to little more than a superfluous utility skill. There were times, and under extremely specific circumstances, he could freely use the wind''s power like this. One of them was exactly what he was using it for now.


    To protect her.


    The forest edge passed by as a liminal haze, blurred by the sheer speed he forced. Little time separated the periodicity of the trees but didn''t hinder his progress, even in the twilit shadows of the forest. Well-honed reflexes made ducking under branches and sidling between trunks trivial. Ears attuned to the whistling wind around him made navigation that much easier.


    As he pressed further, Regulus perceived the pungent smell of wood smoke growing stronger. Howls began to intermingle with the distant roar and clangor of conflagration ahead.


    "Right here should do." He muttered.


    A foot firmly planted, and with it, the wind dissipated.


    The beasts were roughly a kilometer or two away by his best estimate. It didn''t matter how far away they were for what he was planning, but if he wanted to buffer against possible failure, then coming in close proximity to the wolf pack was his only choice.


    "Right, how did this go again... compress some wind over a core of fire..."


    He closed his right fist, and held it at arm''s length, wincing slightly in anticipation of what came next. A blinding flash of light ensued, forcing him to shut his eyes completely.


    They opened on a dozen marble-sized spheres in the palm of his hand. A cerulean outer layer, backed by a white-hot inner core. It was something he picked up once in the Demihuman kingdom. They were a crafty bunch, well versed in mana manipulation like this. Not much could be said of their hospitality during pre-accords times, but that much was to be expected. Hundreds of years of war wouldn''t make them amenable to any outsiders. He was lucky to even pick this much up while hiding in a city on the other side of the western border.


    One by one, the marbles were slotted into hollowed gnarls, wedged between branches, or tucked under a covering of dirt. When he ran out, another flare lit up the shadowy forest around him. Ten minutes of the same left a long line about half a kilometer wide and half that long covered by the mana capsules.


    "Now, all that''s left is to wait."


    A hasty withdrawal later saw him in the branches of a tree some distance away from the area.


    "Should be there any second now..."


    He watched the fire get closer and closer. If not for the elevation and the occasional fluttering of wind magic, the suffocating smoke would have taken him by now.


    "Any second..."


    Mental calculus wasn''t Regulus'' strong suit. Nor was any of that academic malarky guilds taught these days. His intuition, however, never failed him.


    It began with a shuddering of the ground, followed by an oppressive shockwave that imperiled the branch he crouched on. Then, followed by another, and another. Each resounded as a crack of thunder, perhaps more powerfully. Amid the cacophony, agonized cries reached his ears.


    Looks like holding them back will be easier than he thought.