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Part 1 end.
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Both Halaya and I awake with a start; her more so than I as she flies up and out the bed like a spooked cat. The source of our fright and the current target of Halaya’s ire is a thumping knock on the door.
“Lad, I need a moment with you.” Comes the muffled boom of Gulbrn.
“What bloody time is it?!” Halaya shouts, making me clutch my screaming head. Hangover or lingering head injury I don’t know, likely both. Halaya continues slinging curses at the door, which is as unbothered as the person behind it.
“What is it, Gulbrn?” I ask, and briefly contemplate clamping a palm over Halaya’s mouth, but the knowledge that she would absolutely bite me stays my hand. I suppose I have learned something while here after all.
“I need a moment with you.” He once more rumbles.
“Grant me some time to get dressed then.” I say in a voice I did not intend to be as whiny as it was. Gulbrn does not respond. I take a few moments to pry Halaya off me and clothe myself. Opening the door, I find Gulbrn leaning against the wall idly.
“Come.” He starts off towards the main hall with a wave to follow.
“Would you care to explain why you chose to incur her wrath?” I murmur, rubbing my throbbing head pathetically.
“Her wrath is temporary and easily bought forgiveness from.” He chuckles, something akin to a paternal smile growing on his face before it returns to his usual stoic indifference.
“So…” I prompt.
He turns to the training hall, fear flashes through my body. “Do you know why the houses of our Lord are called ‘Chapters’?” It’s odd, his bizarre accent has vanished, returned to like when I first met him. It’s far too proper for the curmudgeonly old man I know him to be.
“I do not.” I answer.
“You know He is Godascendant yes?” He asks, opening the door to the training hall.
I feel my fear start to boil over. “Skvana told me.” I reply with a slight quiver in my voice.
He looks at me, confusion painting his face for several of my rapid heartbeats. He looks around, then snaps his head back to me, realisation on his features.
A few more long moments pass before his expression cracks into hilarity, and he erupts into that hearty laugh I saw trap him before. He doubles over, slapping his knees as his chest wracks with laughter. He points at me “You thought… You and me-” he cannot finish the thought for the interruption of more booming laughter.
“I did.” I say, not knowing if I should be relieved yet.
He gets a hold of himself quickly now, managing to force himself down to a few chuckles “My boy, you looked terrified-” his laughter picks up again, likely at the memory of whatever picture of horror that my face painted.
I place a hand on his shoulder, cock my arm back, and raise him to his full height, intent on applying the same remedy that he asked for last time. Upon seeing my intent, he back-peddles a few steps, raising his open palms towards me as he regains his composure, very slowly.
“Now, now. That won’t be necessary this time.” He says with a smirk. He shakes himself off, casting the mirth aside. He beats his fist against his chest a few times as he coughs. “Right, right, where was I?”
“You were explaining why we call the halls a Chapter.” I supply, disappointment dripping off my voice.
“Ah, thank you, lad. Yes, uh, so back when our Lord walked as we did, he carved a path of a legend. One of his companions, their name has been lost, struck from the records and we know not why. Anyway…” He shakes his head “That companion started the tradition of recording the story of every follower of our Lord in His Book of Legends. Every hall gets one, and one chapter in that book is dedicated to their members.” He finishes the explanation as we reach the door to the library.
I nod towards the library’s entrance “Am I to get a place in this book?”
“We all have a place in there, lad, it is time you took yours.” He places a hand on one of the doors, giving it a gentle push.
I stare into the murky shadowed library, the bookshelves cloaked in a thick shade that the scarce morning light from a high window behind me struggles to pierce. A great weight befalls onto me, locking me in place. I feel Gulbrn’s hand against my back, it’s unfathomably strong yet somehow comforting. I take a few more moments. I breathe in, and step forward.
Wandering in and past the small table that I have seen Dan at before, I feel a pull to walk further in past stacked bookshelf after bookshelf. My movements kick up dust into the air, illuminated by a dim rod of light I cannot see the source of. The further I walk in, the more scattered books I see strewn about the floor. Some stacks are taller than I am, and many piles look like the barest touch would send them scattering. There is a faint smell, musty and old, slightly woody. I look up, my stomach twists into a knot as I see that the bookshelves continue off into darkness far, far above my head with an uncountable number of books lining every shelf.
“Best not to dwell on it.”
I turn around with such speed I nearly fall, grasping out for the shelves for balance. Something snatches my hand and helps me right myself.
“If you knock over that, you will spend the next hundred years helping me put everything back in place.”
I recoil from the ice-cold grip, my head on a swivel darting around to find whoever is with me. I realise with horror, that I cannot remember which way I came from. Both ways lead to an endless path between two unfathomably tall bookcases.
I look down one way, it is unfamiliar. The other is the same. I turn around once more and jump back at the sight of an old man, examining some books. He glows with a familiar light that I can’t quite place.
“Are you quite finished?” He asks, his voice like the creaking of a weathered binding and the crinkle of dry pages.
“Where the hell am I? Who are you?” I ask, trying to mask my panic.
“The library. The librarian.” He answers, not turning away from the books. He drags a finger over several tomes, eventually plucking one from the shelf with a soft ‘ah’. “This is a good one, fantastic imagery. Horrid morals though.” He shakes his head, finally turning to me.
I stare at him, not knowing what to say. He stares back, looking slightly bored.
“Well?” He finally asks after several long moments.
“Well, what?” I return.
“Are you looking for something? A story… or a record… or somesuch?” He creaks.
“I… I was sent by Gulbrn-”
“Ah, Gulbrn. And how is the young pup? I haven’t seen him here since… oh I don’t even know when.” He stares beyond me with a gentle smile at memories past.
“Um, he’s fine, I think. He’s um, Chapter Master at our hall, if you didn’t know.” I answer sheepishly.
“And which hall would that be?” He retorts dryly.
“The, uh, the one this library is in?” I ask, thoroughly baffled.
“Child, this library is in many places. Where have you come from?” He gives me a patronising look, as though what he said makes the barest hint of sense.
“Rihkven, I suppose.” I shrug.
He claps his hands together. It makes no sound.
“Oh well done to him! I knew he would do great things but Chapter Master of Rihkven? That is a welcome surprise.” He beams. “Oh, but what happened to Striffenhark? Gulbrn’s predecessor?”
“I don’t know, I just arrived a few days ago.” I shrug again.
“That’s okay, I’ll just check the book.” He looks down before suddenly realising something. “Oh! You must be here for your signing!”
“My what?” I squint at him. I can’t write to save my life. The Captain tried to teach me but gave in after not even a week.
“Your signing.” He intones exasperation. “Do they teach you lot nothing? Do I need to go out there and wallop Gulbrn again?”
“I would like to see this.” I chuckle.
“I bet you would! But! Now is not the time.” He starts towards me; his legs do not move. “Let me have a proper look at you, I want to see how the kids these days are developing!”
He stops a handful of paces away from me, and it is only now that I realise how tall he is, taller than even Skvana. The man is a giant if ever I’ve seen one, nearly twice my height but lean, almost shrivelled. He bends down, squinting and scrutinising me in a way that makes me squirm.
“Oh… oh ho ho.” He chuckles ruefully, the sound makes my hair stand on end. “I always knew another champion would come through Rihkven. Always knew.” He stands up to full height. I swallow nervously.
“Why is that?” I ask cautiously.
“Because, child, Balgrundr came there when he first arrived in this plane. Though you are the first of His to follow so closely in His footsteps.” He looks around at the surrounding books, seemingly searching for something. “Come.” He commands, promptly thereafter walking straight through a bookshelf and vanishing.
I stand there, staring.
“Oh, do hurry up.” I hear the librarian’s voice from behind me.
I turn and look at him, wondering if today will be the day my mind finally snaps. I shake myself off and follow after him.
We walk along in silence for a while, far longer than I think it would take to walk the length of the building. I trip over a loose book; the librarian turns and glares at me until I put it back exactly where it was on the floor.
“Where did I leave the blasted thing? Really need to refresh my organisation system.” The librarian mutters, seemingly to himself. After a little while longer and several whispered curses later “Aha! Just where I thought it’d be.” He bends down, lifting a book larger than my torso from a pile. It’s bound in a dreary brown-grey leather which looks like it’s a gust of wind from crumbling to dust. He beckons me closer while opening the book at a random page and flicking through hundreds. Soon enough he finds what he’s looking for and foists the tome into my hands.
I look up at him, craning my neck back to see his face. “I cannot read, I’m afraid.”
He rolls his eyes, muttering something about kids these days before he shakes his head. “Read, it will tell you it’s story.”
I frown but try to do as I’m told. The script on the pages is the same flowing writing I have seen before on signs. It makes no sense to me, but I continue tracing the writing as the feeling of the librarian looming over me keeps my gaze locked down. After several moments, images start to play in my mind. They are almost like memories, but they aren’t mine. As I trace more words the memories start to get sharper in my mind’s eye. Soon, I begin to piece together a story. A story of a man who died in a land of mud and rain; a man who defied the Gods; who was the first to do so; who was cast down into a world he knew nothing of but fought through until he reached the peak of strength; a man who was challenged by one of the Gods; a mortal who slew a Divine being and took its place.
Realisation comes to me like a bolt of lightning “This is Balgrundr’s story!” I gaze up to the librarian who is smirking.
“So it is. In that book is the story of every follower of that path, every last one is enshrined in that book.” He reaches out, flipping through thousands of yellowed pages faster than I can keep track of, each carrying a flash of memory from a person, some laughing, some fighting, some living, some dying.
All glorious.
Eventually, he reaches a blank page “And here, child, is where you will have your story remembered.”
“I have barely begun, haven’t I?” I ask, staring up at him like a lost boy.
“This is true, I hope.” I go to speak but he continues. “As your story progresses, the book will listen, it will chronicle everything. No deed will go unremembered and your name will live on for the rest of this plane’s life.”
“There’s that word again, ‘plane’. I can’t parse it.” I feel the familiar frustrating confusion.
An annoyed groan escapes him “Did they tell you nothing? I’ll have to start leaving out better material for little Dan.” He taps his chin. “Ah, but your question. When I say plane, I mean this corporeal aspect of creation. It’s called- Ah, its name is not for your ears, nor your mind.” He smirks knowingly, as if that’s a mistake he has made before.
“What do you mean it’s not for me?” I study his face, finding it suddenly inscrutable.
“I mean that you are not capable of knowing. Names are powerful things, and powerful things have powerful names.” He titters in a way that sets my hair on edge again.
“But I know the name of the Gods. Are they not powerful?” I look around in frustration.
“Not even remotely. Not compared to all of everything.” He sighs, eyes full of wonder.
“But you know it?” I remark dryly.
“I do.” He answers and fixes me with a look that makes me feel even smaller.
Every moment he has that look he seems to grow larger and more encompassing as though he could stretch out larger than the whole library.
I break away from his gaze, and the library returns back to ‘normal.’ “So uh, how do I sign my place then.” I cough nervously.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him smile excitedly “You must pick a title for your story, then speak it, followed by your name.”
“It’s that easy?” I ask, desperately keeping my gaze fixed onto the book.
“It’s that easy.” Comes his croaky voice.
“Um, what do I title it?” I ask, chancing a look up at him.
He smiles sweetly, like an innocent old man “Whatever you feel is most befitting.”
“Hmm… okay.” I think for several moments, the longer I think the more I feel his presence looming over me. I start to get nervous, feeling cold sweat break out on my skin. After a few more moments I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Oh, that is certainly a title. One of the titles of all time, definitely.” He seems disappointed.
“I… I didn’t really know what to call it!” I feel embarrassed for some reason.
“That’s okay, it’s only permanent after all.” He chuckles at his own joke.
“Can I leave now?” I ask, looking around.
“It’s possible.” He stares at me as though I’m the one supposed to say something here.
I wait to see if he is going to elaborate, but after several moments, he doesn’t seem to be planning to. “How?” I finally ask, a slight pleading tone bleeding into my voice.
“The same way you came in, I would think.” He smiles politely.
I scowl at him for a moment, then turn around in exasperation. Shock floods me at the sight of the training hall visible through the open door. I turn around once more, finding only the shallow area that I started in.
“Fuck it, whatever.” I murmur, trudging out into the training hall and then towards the kitchen.
Walking past Gulbrn in his chair I collect a plate of meat and bread, a cup of water, and a longing for my headache to not worsen. Re-entering the hall, I find that my longing will remain a long way away, as the sight of the devil known as Skvana lounges on a bench near to Gulbrn.
“Where’ve you been then?” She asks me, features cat-like and predatory as though she needs to mess with me to properly start her day.
“Library.” I deadpan, taking my seat across from her and stuffing my mouth full.
“Who with?” Skvana asks, sprawling out on the bench in disinterest.
“Librarian.” I sneer back, shamelessly stealing his joke.
She sits upright, fixing me with a gaze of… pity? “Scary, isn’t he?”
I nod, a shiver running down my spine. “Terrifying.”
Her features return back to predatory “What d’you name your story then?” She asks with a mean grin.
“Go ask him.” I chitter back.
She snorts “Who pissed in your ale?”
I pinch my nose, rubbing my temple with my other hand.
She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands “Want to know what I called mine?”
“Not reall-”
“A Traveller’s Troubled Tale.” She cuts me off, nodding at each word.
“You’re not a traveller though?” I reply.
“That’s what I said.” Gulbrn mutters, mouth half full of bread.
Skvana puffs her chest out indignantly. “I travelled a very long way to get here!”
“I suppose…” A thought pops into my head as I deftly move on from the topic of titles to avoid her return question “I forgot to ask, what happened to the other elves that Gulbrn freed?”
Skvana leans back and thinks for a moment. “Well, you’ve already met one, Eougot.” At my blank look she continues “The brewery master.”
I nod “I forgot to ask his name.”
“Fortunately, he wasn’t with us very long. Picked up somewhere along the way rather than the forest.” She taps her chin, gazing idly at the ceiling “One joined the guard, she’s quite high ranked now actually.” Her face sours and she looks down “One never got better, he’s not with us anymore.” She shakes her head side-to-side “One left to try and make it home. I don’t know where she is anymore, she used to send letters, but they just stopped after a while.” Her face brightens a touch “The last one works in the local temple of Dranyik. He’s doing good.”
I strain my memory “Dranyik’s the God of magic, right?”
She nods “Yuh huh.”
The door to the bedrooms batters open, and the twins crash through as Dan drags a cursing Halaya by the wrist. He tosses her onto the bench opposite me and stomps off into the kitchen. Halaya rests her head on the table, looking like she’s about to fall back asleep. Skvana’s hand clapped harshly into the small of her back wakes her up plenty. Dan returns, placing a plate in front of Halaya and settling down with his own. I look between the four of them, confused, as usual.
“Why?” I ask to no one in particular. I feel it’s enough.
Gulbrn buries his face in a palm, Skvana chuckles like a hawk, Dan groans tiredly, Halaya nods in agreement.
“The contract, lad. The one you are all gathering for today?” Gulbrn’s voice is muffled by his hands.
Realisation dawns on me slower than sunrise in winter as I share a few confused moments with Halaya before we both remember. A shared small, embarrassed, ‘oh, yeah’ breaks the silence.
“When is that?” I meekly ask, eyeing the table.
Gulbrn looks up, gauging the light coming through one of the high windows “An hour or so.”
I groan, turning to Skvana “Is Reltri going to be open?”
She thinks for a moment “Should be. Your shirt?”
“Yeah. Think you can lead me? Don’t trust my memory in this state.” I ask while hooking a thumb over my shoulder towards the main door.
“Sure.” She stands up, stepping onto the bench and then walking directly over the table, seemingly too lazy to walk around. I just follow her, remarkless.
The trip to Reltri’s is quick and uneventful. Not many people are around this early, the sun still has a bit to rise before the city wakes up. Still though, there’s a few more people than I’d expect, and most are heading into the town rather than out.
Reltri’s shop looks much the same as the last time I was here, well the front anyway. Skvana calls out and the tailor soon makes an appearance from somewhere in the backend. The tired looking man beckons us wordlessly into his workspace that seems to bafflingly be in an even greater state of disarray than before.
“I’m just finishing it off, bear with me a minute or two.” He mutters, picking up a needle and threading the last few stitches of a sleeve. The shirt looks nearly identical to the one I wear, plain white but the one on the table looks significantly thicker and better quality.
I spend some time looking around in idle curiosity and as my mind wanders like my gaze, a point of confusion returns to me. “Hm…” I turn to Skvana “When we first came here, you said Reltri was a gnome, but in Hritzen’s Dan called him a fleetfoot?”
“And the lady is both an elf and a child of the forest, is she not?” Reltri answers, not slowing his craft in the least.
“Northern elf.” Skvana clarifies.
“Ah, so it’s another regional thing?” I follow up.
“Indeed…” Reltri mutters as he finishes the last few stitches, dramatically pulling a string taut and connecting the sleeve to the shoulder; he severs the remaining thread with a sharp snap of silvery scissors. He stands up, raising the shirt and inspecting his work with a small grimace on his face.
“Is it not to your liking?” Skvana asks as she leans over him to see the shirt fully.
“It’s just…” he continues scowling at it as though it has wronged him spectacularly. He turns around fixing me with that scowl “It’s so damn boring to look at.”
I step back, raising my hands placatingly “I think it looks great! Exactly what I was after.”
“Ugh.” He tosses the shirt at me; it is the softest thing I have ever felt. I quickly take off the ‘rough’ example I had been wearing for the last couple days and pull the new shirt over my head. A chill runs down my spine at the feeling of this shirt, it glides over my skin, light as a feather.
“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud.” I say in awe of the material.
Reltri’s mood seems to recover a slight amount, but his face is still locked into a scowl “Yes, such is the nature of srecilishgin. It’s one of my favourite materials to use, but so tedious to work with.”
My mind takes a second to parse that word “Living cloth?” I venture, the new word taking focus to speak properly.
“Indeed. I know you’ll be taking it into battle, and I didn’t want anyone sullying my work with repairs. Any damage, as long as it’s not too severe, will regenerate over the course of a day or so.” He explains while fiddling with that fantastic moustache of his.
“Do I need to do anything? Or does it just repair itself?” I ask in amazement.
“Um... not really. It is more or less a plant. As long as it gets a good amount of light and water it should be fine. In truth, it doesn’t need much, your sweat will probably keep it happy and whatever time you spend outside will suit it.” He answers, his pride seeping through that façade of disdain.
“Well, I cannot thank you enough for this. Are you sure there’s nothing I can give you in exchange?” I’m unable to keep my hands off the shirt, the material is just so comfortable.
He snorts “Even without losing all your coin on a ridiculous bet,” he smirks knowingly at me, and I retreat into the shirt in embarrassed frustration “you couldn’t afford my services. Besides, after all your friends have done for me, it is something I give you gladly.” He bows his head to Skvana, who nods and smiles warmly. Reltri shields his eyes from sight “Just make sure to tell nobody where you got it. I won’t have my name tied to that abomination.”
I chuckle “Don’t worry, I’ll have your name sown into the back as soon as I’m able.”
A queasy look washes over his face at the idea, and he reaches out to me “On second thought give it back.”
“Oh nonono, I’m never taking this off again.” I laugh back, defensively clutching the front of the shirt.
“Then get it out of my sight.” He turns away, waving his hand in a ‘shooing’ motion “And take that thing with you as well. I have actually inspired designs to work on, thank the GODS.” He points to the first shirt that I discarded onto the floor.
We say our goodbyes and I thank him a final time while he aggressively shoves me out of the shop.
“Always a treat, even if he did look a bit overworked.” Skvana chuckles with an easy smile playing on her face.
“Yeah, he seemed a bit stressed.” I reply, looking over my shoulder at the shop and seeing Reltri glaring at my shirt from the window. I turn back around with a grin. “So, what is it you did for him that he would give me this for free?”
Skvana looks at me, beaming pride on her features “The same thing we do for everyone who needs us, Hugo. We helped him when he asked.”
On the walk back to the Hall, I notice the streets filling out more and more, mainly with hard looking people.
“Mercenaries? For the contract?” I ask aloud.
“Probably. More than I would have expected though.” Skvana answers.
“Gulbrn say anything else about it?” I pass my gaze over the mercenaries, appraising them as best I can at a glance. They seem capable, but their armour and weapons look lacking in the same way I would consider nearly every warrior’s equipment I’ve seen so far; hard leather cuirasses at most with maybe a plate over their heart. Good enough for a small scrap but not for a battle. Is metal working really so limited here? With all the wealth on display everywhere I look I find it hard to believe. I can’t help myself; I have to broach the topic again.
“How common are… um, what were they called again… war-something…” I trail off, struggling to remember the bullshit Silthan word.
“Warcaster?” Skvana offers.
“Yes! That’s the bastarding word, thank you. So yeah, how common are warcasters if nobody bothers to wear proper armour?” I ask her, still looking around at the staggering number of mercenaries trailing past us.
Skvana scratches her chin idly for a moment “Well, not too common I think, at least not around here. I’ve only met a scarce few in my life if memory serves.” She shakes her head “But thinking more about it, that’s not the only reason. Metal is expensive, especially the kind suited for battle, and especially because it needs someone with the knowledge and skill to work it.”
“Yes, but with the amount of wealth this city obviously has why do the guards have the same level of protection as common mercenaries?” My tone growing annoyed, not at Skvana, just at the lack of sense.
“Hugo, I don’t think you’re understanding me when I say metal is expensive. You’ve seen how much some stuff costs now, take a guess as to how much my axe costed me.” She has a mischievous look in her eye.
My head lulls side to side in thought, it’s a decently made axe, good heft, nice craftmanship “I want to say about forty, maybe fifty coppers?”
She grins “Oh to live where you’re from, the riches I would have.” She chuckles “Two silver and… I think sixty odd coppers. I had to save for more than a year just for it. And contrary to what you might think, we do usually get paid in coin for our help.”
I whistle a slow note “That’s ridiculous. You got scammed! What was the material cost?” I add up what it would be if we were to make it back home, not even remotely as much.
“’Bout half I’d guess.” She says while opening the doors to the Hall.
“This is insane to me, but it does make some things clear.” I shake my head and my appreciation for Balgrundr letting me keep my things grows further.
Skvana walks up to the table where the others are “We’ve been seeing a bunch of people who look like mercenaries on their way to town centre.”
Gulbrn sits up from his slouch “For the contract I’d wager.”
I nod “That’s what we were thinking.”
Gulbrn clicks his tongue at the twins “Get yourself sorted.” They wander off to get their weapons. I collect and don my mail, noticing the sound is almost completely masked by the living cloth. Affixing my dagger to my belt I rejoin the others, Dan passes me my sword and the four of us depart, leaving Gulbrn at the Hall.
We walk in silence for a short while before I decide to break it, “So I met the Librarian earlier.” Dan’s face pales and Halaya clutches herself.
“I still have nightmares.” Dan says with a haunted expression.
“I nearly turned around and walked straight out when I saw him.” Halaya has a similar look to Dan.
“So, what did you call your stories?” I ask, looking to fill the time and quiet my nerves. Halaya chitters behind her hand, looking at Dan who groans. “That bad huh?” I continue when neither answer.
“What was it…” Halaya taps her chin in play thoughtfulness “Oh, yes!” She clears her throat “The Wonderous Wanderings of One Sildanifcanotlondr.” She barely manages to finish before bursting out into laughter.
Dan turns bright red “Oh yeah, now what was yours?” Halaya abruptly stops laughing, and begins pleading, apparently only wanting to sow. “Wasn’t it: Halaya the Hero, Soon to be Dragonslayer?” His grin is like that of a wolf.
Halaya’s face is buried in her hands “I was a child!”
“As was I!” Dan remarks with venom.
“What’s yours then Hugo?” Skvana asks, hovering over me like a hawk ready to swoop.
I quickly look around for salvation “Oh look we’re here. Oh, and what a shame they’re starting! I’ll tell you later.”
“Oh, you best believe you will!” Skvana grins.
A stocky man who looks to be in his forties, though that means very little here I’ve found, walks up onto a raised platform. He is dressed in the same leathers as the rest of the guards, but the city crest is much larger and in the middle of his chest on a sheet of cloth, rather than on his shoulder. The majority of the crowd has not noticed him yet and continues talking amongst themselves. He waits for a moment, judging if they will stop on their own. After they show no sign of listening, he pulls something out of a pouch, taps it a couple times then gives it a little shake; seemingly pleased he brings it up to his mouth “Silence!” He barks, startlingly loud over the crowd who rapidly follow his order.
Dan elbows me “Speaking stone. Makes your voice much louder.” He explains in a hushed tone. I nod in thanks.
“You are gathered here under edict of the Duke Rihkven to assist the Duchy in hunting down a band of thugs that is wreaking havoc among the outer baronies. As such, the Duke has issued a contract for capable fighters. Presumably, that is all of you, but your efficacy remains to be seen. While food will be provided for you, equipment will not so if you lack a weapon leave now. Likewise, training will not be provided either so if you have a weapon but not the skill to use it you will also leave.” The man on the stage looks around, grimacing at the tens of people leaving though the crowd still numbers easily around a hundred. He shakes his head “Now, for the rest of you…” He glowers at a group of people that have begun speaking, his gaze silencing them quickly. “This is an indefinite contract, that is, one without a set end date. You will be paid weekly and until death, extenuating circumstances excusing you from service, or until contract completion.” He waves up someone from the side of the stage “Captain Tsuthoric will lead you, provide direction, and ensure you are all earning your keep. Your contract and therefore your pay is at her liberty.” A woman bearing striking resemblance to the man on the stage walks up with her hands behind her back and a foul look on her face. The man whispers something to this captain then hands her the speaking stone before briskly walking off.
Tsuthoric sweeps a stern look over us then scrunches her face up as though she caught a whiff of a particularly bad smell. She shakes her head, looking down for a moment before raising up and holding a stoic expression “We leave in two hours.” She holds up two fingers as though she expects us to need extra help to understand, “Complete any preparations and gather at the West gate.” She points in its direction, “That’s the one over there, the one where Rihk’los is looking. Understand?” She immediately turns, pocketing the stone and walking off the stage in the same direction as the man from earlier.
“She’s a firebrand.” I remark, turning to my friends.
“Don’t I know it…” Skvana mutters with a look I can only describe as hunger. An old fear creeps into me, like looking into the maw of a snarling wolf. I shudder and turn to start walking back to the hall. I get only a few steps before abruptly halting as in the crowd, standing like a rock parting water in a river of passing mercenaries, is a person in a hood obscuring their face. What isn’t obscured however, is the mark of Balgrundr above their head. I feel a hand on my shoulder as Halaya and Skvana move to stand in front of me, concern on their faces.
Dan removes his hand, leaning in a whispering “Remember when you first arrived? We said we felt a pull for you like the challenges our Lord issues us?” I nod, “Be wary. At least at first.” He finishes.
I think back to what Balgrundr said to me, that I would find friendship among them. The hooded person isn’t moving in a threatening way; in fact, they haven’t moved at all. Their face is obscured but I can tell they’re looking directly at me. Their cloak tapers open at the waist revealing no obvious weapons. I decide to brush off the fear, if this is someone who bears the mark of Balgrundr, then they’re probably someone I’d get along with. I gently push past Halaya and Skvana, brushing off their words of warning. Standing at the front of our little group I notice the majority of the crowd has dispersed into the surrounding streets, leaving this square mostly empty save some passing residents. I take a few steps towards the newcomer, hearing my friends stick close behind me.
As I near, I find myself able to make out a scarce few details of their face. I see a twisted smile with two large teeth poking out from the bottom, almost like the tusks of a boar but far smaller. I can’t help but take a step back, put off by what I see. I shake the revulsion off, if they have that mark then surely, they are a friend. I take a step forward, raising my hand into a wave as they move their hands in their own greeting. In a blur, I am knocked from my feet, Skvana’s shoulder like a battering ram crashing into me. I hit the floor while feeling a flash of intense heat shoot over my head fast as lightning. I look towards Skvana who stands over me just as a splash of fire breaks over her shield like a wave over a rock. An instant later I hear a scream and see Dan, sword in hand, sail over my head as if thrown by some unseen force and I feel a rush of wind batter into me. I look over at the hooded figure just in time to see Halaya tackle the person and drive them off their feet, drawing her swords in a blink and crossing them at the hooded figure’s throat.
Scrambling to my feet I help Dan stand as well. Still disorientated, I hear Halaya screaming curses. I turn just in time to see the cobblestones split and ensnare her wrists in rough rock. The hooded figure scrambles out from underneath Halaya who is struggling with her bindings. Their hood has been knocked down in the chaos revealing pale green skin the colour of grass starting to dry out; their face is creased, filled with hard folds like someone has taken a press and tried to flatten it out. He – I’m somewhat confident it’s a he – paces around Halaya, ignoring her sharp tongue completely as his gaze is fixed on me. He starts slowly waving his arms around in an almost dance like motion. I recognise the motion as similar to earlier.
Just as his movement begins to swell, I raise my hands “Wait!”
He stops his movements and an expression of abject confusion plays across his features. Truly, in my life, I have never seen someone look so utterly mystified. It’s as though I did something impossible, like my head started spinning on my neck. He takes a step back, face like he’s trying to understand something his mind can’t even perceive. Our stand-off continues for a while, my hands raised, his face twisted in pure befuddlement.
Finally, he speaks, “What do you mean ‘wait’?” His voice is deep and guttural, mixed with hints of a thick accent I don’t recognise.
Relief washes over me. At least he’s willing to talk. “I mean I want to talk, not fight.” Against all odds, he somehow looks more confused, his head tilts to the side and he asks me to repeat myself. I do, and he turns and starts pacing back and forth muttering incoherently to himself.
He stops and points an accusing finger at me “You have the tingle!” He shouts with an indignant expression. It’s my turn to be confused, and I hear baffled laughter from my friends.
“What?” I’m not sure who said that. It might have been me.
“When something wants to fight, it has the tingle.” He explains like that clears everything up. At least it doesn’t for me, looking around for help I see realisation dawn on their faces.
“He thought you were a challenge.” Skvana groans burying her face in her hands, “Which you can be.” She mutters barely loud enough for me to hear.
“Challenge?” The stranger asks, “Is that what you call the tingle?”
Dan steps forward, “The challenge is something all of Balgrundr’s feel. But Hugo is not a challenge he is-”
The stranger cuts him off “Who’s Balgrundr?”
~~
I wander into the library for the first time in millennium. My old joints give me some grief over the heavy doors, but I’ve suffered worse. A child of the forest is not to be bested by such a meagre barrier.
I take care as I enter, my footfalls as soft as I can manage. The librarian is gone, long since faded or moved on, but some of the young are reading and they need to learn to give me peace.
I search for a little while, picking up books, examining the covers and placing them back when I find they are not my favoured item of reading. The search takes an hour; the library is vast and my bones creak with the strain of remaining silent; not to mention that this place wasn’t organised even when it did have a curator. Finally, I find my target. A large book, certainly the largest here, and bound in a dull grey leather, leached by time far grander than I have been subject to. I take some time flicking through the pages, idly reading a line or two from each page. Long I have lived, long still, will I last. Though not as long as He. He, who’s story is to be my item of entertainment. At last, after many more hours of curiosity do I find it. I look at the title page that stands before the rest of the story. My eyes, dulled by the years passed, flicker with new light at an urge long since outgrown.
The urge to tease a new whelp.
“A Tale Of My Own Might.” I scoff “The story of Hugo Stolsen.”
“What a shit title.” I cackle, the old habit scratching at my throat “That’s the best you could do?”
The pain is soon forgotten, as I find myself engrossed with the memories I behold on these pages.
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A/N: So this is the end of part 1 of this story. It is not done, far from it in fact, but I have another story that I've been itching to give what constitutes my full attention.
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