B.F.HUUPS
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2. Caedstad
🕑 Added 2023-10-07 21:59:00 +0000 UTCHours had passed, but Earon still couldn’t help but stare blankly at his status screen. All that hard work and it was gone in an instant. Why? He had never heard of somebody simply changing class for no apparent reason.
Maybe this was how specialty classes worked. Earon had never met anyone who had unlocked one. Maybe his abilities and skills were simply hidden. Although, his heart told him that was a lie. When thinking about doing something in the garden, his mind drew blanks, as if he had no idea how to comprehend even the simplest of tasks.
Everyone started with a blank slate, confirming their actual class around the age of sixteen or so. As had Earon. Since he could walk, Earon worked the family gardens and fields, and so he had become a farmer, as expected.
This was the story for most people. You became what you did. Go to train with the militia? Become an archer or a spearman. Work the forge? Become a smithy. It wasn’t overly complicated. Some might even evolve their class; in which case it would take on a new name with new skills and abilities. However, you didn’t lose your original class, and the new one was usually related to the old one, in some way or another.
For example, a swordsman taking a holy oath and becoming a paladin. Their active class would now be paladin at level 1, but if they had been a level 18 swordsman when they gained the specialty class, it would remain in a deactivated state, still providing them with all the skills and abilities they had gained.
It was a little different when you went from ??? to having your first class, though. During which it would start counting from whatever level you were; for example, ??? – Level 6, to say, Weaver – Level 7. You would keep your original abilities and skills, and grain whatever your class gave you.
Whether or not it was a good thing to gain more levels when you were young or not, was a topic of debate. Since you would be stronger and more skilled, but on the other hand, levels would become harder to gain, especially if you were above level ten when you got your class. This became less of an issue if you planned on taking a specialty class, though, since you would start it at level 1 again, anyway.
Not that peasants or farmers thought about any of that. They almost certainly wouldn’t ever gain a specialty class and rarely needed to worry about planning their ascent.
Most of their knowledge only came from wandering bards, but nonetheless, Earon was confident whatever happened to him, wasn’t normal.
Bah! Earon shook his head, dispelling the status screen.
“You know, it's never wise to keep secrets from a master mage.” Said Rudis, taking note of Earon’s apparent frustration. “What are you, eighteen, nineteen? Even if you were a simpleton, there is no way you could be level 1 at your age.”
Earon didn’t know how to respond. It was apparent the mage didn’t believe his story, not that he could blame him.
“Silence does you no good, peasant. The sooner I learn how you really came to be what you are, the sooner you can be gone from our presence. So, I’ll ask you again, what level are you, really?” Asked Master Rudis.
“I’m nineteen, and like said; I was a level ten farmer. I’ve no idea why or how it suddenly changed.” Earon grumbled, sick of repeating himself.
“Fine, have it your way. But if you had a brain, you’d consider sharing every detail you know. Back at the tower, we have many means; and I can assure you, that if by chance, you’re still holding out hope of deceiving me, I’ve news for you. It won’t work. No secret can escape me and trust me when I say there will be punishments for such actions.”
Earon nodded a curt smile. He just had to hope whatever this mage had planned, it would end up proving he wasn’t lying.
Since leaving Ryewood, the only reprieve had come when the party stopped at a stable not far south of town and picked up another horse for Earon. Allowing him to ride on his own.
Riding at the group’s center, Earon was blocked from escape at all sides, not that Master Rudis appeared too worried about it.
A brisk trot took them along the dirt road traveling beside fields of rye and barley for hours, passing Ember’s Ridge, and the other Ryeland hamlets in the process.
Climbing a winding ridge, they gained a vantage point of the roads beyond, which split a lower bank of fields from a raised one. Earon could see the endless blanket of evergreens that marked the beginning of Spruce Gale and the end of the Ryelands. To his right, the fields and paddocks grew in elevation, slowly giving way to mountains as craggy rock became uninhabitable – with the towering icy peaks of the Eight Wise Men in the distance.
Never having been beyond the Ryelands, a sinking feeling began to swell within Earon. It needed to be quelled. Mother would be worried, but others could care for her, he told himself. Ralli Tad had probably already made his way there, letting himself in if need be. The last thing Earon wanted to do was cause more trouble, and his worries weren’t worth testing the patience of a master mage. Not when he had already made sure the potion got to her. It would heal her of her aliment, and she would be there to greet him on his return.
The sun still hung high, but as the party rode into the Gale, darkness enveloped them.
Riding all day had taken its toll, and fatigue crept in on rider and mount alike as they continued. However, a few words of magic and regents pulled from a bag by Master Rudis and their energy had been renewed.
Never having felt the effects of real magic, Earon was amazed by how good he felt. If nothing else good came of this journey, at least he’d have experienced that – something few farmers of the Rye ever had.
Howls and roars of beasts echoed throughout the Spruce Gale as night fell, but none besides Earon seemed bothered.
The narrow, snaking road of the Gale slowed their pace, despite Master Rudis’s rejuvenating magic. And the blood-orange rays of early morning light were already cast across the land by the time they reached the thinning tree line of its borders.
Stretching on almost as far as they could see, the wind-swept valley of Yarges met them on the other side, its burnt grass covering everything that wasn’t rock.
Better circumstances could have brought Earon here, that was undeniable. But there was beauty in seeing such a foreign land. The Ryeland rose and fell, and whether it was forest or mountains, something always blocked your view, but here was open. An undiluted view that stretched toward the horizon.
He had been happy where he was. Adventure wasn’t part of Earon’s blood, or so he had thought. However, watching this view made him wonder what kind of magnificent sight lay atop the Wise Men.
At the far end of the valley lay the Spine Ridge, an unnatural-looking ledge of rocky cliffs that rose from the ground and surrounded the Kingdom of Ome. Thinning his eyes, Earon managed to capture a faint outline of buildings nestled between the towering rock on the horizon.
Caedstad Tower was unmissable, even if he had only ever heard of it in bard’s tales. Its pointed roof stood several stories above the already formidably tall walls that enclosed the city and joined the Scar Ridges together. Caedstad was a relatively poor city, but a famous one. It was here that adventurers and greedy merchants set out across the Clain in search of greater riches. Its gates were what separated the relative peace of the kingdom from the lawless chaos that reigned supreme throughout the Clain and the surrounding barrens, and the monsters that climbed out from the scars.
Once upon a time, back when Earon was only a child, he had dreamt of seeing the fabled gates. But back then, he had also dreamt of being a knight, gloriously cutting down any monster silly enough to claw its way up from a scar.
That was a long, foolhearted time ago. Now, he just looked down on the town of heroes.
A sour memory stirred. It was of his childhood friend, Alyssia. They had been inseparable, and it had become a running theme in town that they would eventually marry. Of course, neither of them entertained such provocations. However, destiny was fated to pull them apart because unlike Earon, running around fields clashing with wooden swords had never tired Alyssia. As Earon aged, and his mother grew weaker, he spent more and more time tending to their gardens and fields; whilst Alyssia remained as infatuated by swinging swords as she ever had. So, when they finally received their classes, it was of no great surprise that Alyssia gained the class Sword Maiden.
Training with the barely competent militia got old quickly, and it wasn’t long before Alyssia was saying her goodbyes.
That was two years ago, and no one had heard from her since. A collect tray had been passed around town, gathering a decent stack of coins. It had been used to hire an investigator. Tracing Alyssia’s steps, they had learned she had come to Caedstad, as the folk of Ryewood expected. However, there wasn’t much else beyond that. She had found an adventuring party and headed out into the barrens only a couple of months after arriving. Since then, not even a rumor of her had surfaced.
Seeing the bitter reminder was difficult for Earon, who viewed the town and the fortunes it promised as having stolen his friend. It was how he had come to terms with the loss of one of the two most important people in his life.
Alyssia’s soft smile played on Earon’s thoughts for a moment, but he forced it away with a watery blink.
“We stop to gather regents, food, and to feed the horses. I expect this to take no longer than an hour or two.” Master Rudis said as the party galloped down the sloping road and into the valley proper.
A unified, “Yes master!” echoed from the apprentices.
Earon couldn’t help but feel relief for the interruption to his thoughts.
This had been the only words Earon had heard from the apprentices since leaving Ryewood, and he wondered if it was due to fear from their master, or just not being talkative. And it couldn't have come at a better time.
The party galloped across the flat plane in short order, aided by a few more words from the master.
A narrow, stone bridge crossed over the steep banks and shallow waters of the Yarges, continuing through the open, arching entrance of the gatehouse. Beyond it, the cobbled Mainstreet road flowed through the heart of Caedstad. Dozens of winding alleys snaked off of Mainstreet, with streams of wastewater, rubbish, and even the homeless crowding them. Beggers, adventures, and merchant traders filled the streets, and just about everyone carried something sharp by their side.
Whilst barely considered a city, Caedstad was more than twice the size of Ryewood. Filled with tightly packed two and three-story houses and dotted by several larger, stone buildings. The Temple of Arks, the Lord’s Keep, and the Merchant’s Guild being the most prominent. However, the Withering Vine Inn, despite only being a two-story timber structure, was not to be outdone, and in fact covered more ground than all other buildings besides the Lord’s Keep; and it was here where adventures from across the kingdom came to gather before heading out into the Clain.
“Sidos, you watch our young friend. The rest, you know what your jobs are.” Master Rudis commanded with a handwave. “Unfortunately, I hadn’t the time to visit an old acquaintance on our way through. We shall regroup here by noon, ready to continue for the tower.” And with that, he trotted off into the crowd, followed by apprentice Ryran, who acted as the master's assistant.
Standing in the town square, Earon noted how similar it was in many ways to Ryewood; save for the buildings and lack of fences surrounding them. And the cobblestone streets. And the armored watchmen. The stores with their painted signs. Not to mention the stone facade opposite him.
“Jacob’s arms and armaments.” Read the colorful sign written in neat cursive.
Wait a minute, I can read?
***
New skill unlocked – Arcane Knowledge (Passive) Grants the ability to read or write both mundane and magical text. Progression; 1.
***
Well, at least that seemed useful. Not that Earon wasn’t grateful for his rune crafting, or rather the fact that it seemed to have saved his life somehow. He just didn’t know how he would make a living out of surviving attacks from mad mages. Maybe he could join the circus – the great impervious Earon; watch him survive fireballs cast by a master of the magical arts.
Earon grimaced. No, if he was forced into a new life, becoming a scribe or something similar sounded a whole lot better than that. It's not as if the fireball had been an enjoyable experience, after all.
“What are you looking at?” Sidos sneered, riding up beside Earon as he stared at the store sign. “Get off your horse already.”
Earon’s focus returned and he saw the apprentices Bhojaz and Tian impatiently waiting to gather up the last of the horses. Whilst apprentice Croffin and Jaidor’s backs were already disappearing as they left for reagents.
Swiftly dismounting, Sidos passed his reins to Bhojaz and cracked his back. “Don’t look so grumpy. We’ve got time to head over to the Withering Vine and get ourselves a proper meal. It’s the best you’ll be getting in a while, trust me. But, if you want to stick to the rations, be my guest. We’ll have all the stale biscuits and leather meat you could possibly eat, soon enough.”
“Tower food,” Tian agreed with a shiver as he helped Bhojaz gather the horses. “If you’re treating yourself to stew, at least pick me up one of their sausages.”
“With pleasure, but you’ll owe me.” Apprentice Sidos replied with a toothy grin.
Walking to the Withering Vine didn’t take long, and soon Earon was faced with a gut-wrenching feeling. This was likely one of the last places Alyssia had visited.
With so much on his mind, being torn away from his very reality, Earon hadn't expected to be faced with such thoughts. It was a reminder he had never truly faced them. Instead, he had focused on looking after his mother. Putting duty above personal interests, not that she approved of it.
Maggie wanted Earon to stay in the Rye, of course; to pursue farming and a simple life. But she had hoped that he might end up with Alyssia the same as everybody else in town. Only dropping the subject after Alyssia disappeared, and the pain in Earon's eyes was evident.
Large, round doors greeted them, alongside a chorus seeping from the building's walls. Entering, they were greeted by a giant hall filled with countless tables, many of which were burrowed into private booths that ran the length of the establishment. On one end, a minstrel sang to the whimsical tune of string instruments, whilst an impressive bar filled the other. Chatter melded into an indiscernible hum, and it took the agility of a dancer to navigate the place without brushing shoulders with every other patron.
“Time for a bowl of millennial stew, the second most famous thing about this place,” Sidos said, running his tongue across his lips.
“Millennial stew?”
“They reckon the same bowl has been bubbling away over there for a thousand years. A load of bollocks if you ask me. Don’t mean it’s not good, though.” Sidos said, directing Earon forward with a firm hand placed against his back.
“I get it,” Earon groaned, feeling the strong-arming was unnecessary.
Potatoes, carrots, and even a few bones accompanied by mutton remnants sat in front of Earon. The two had taken to a booth, but it seemed Sidos wasn't too interested in entertaining a conversation, his face truly stuffed in his bowl.
All kinds of adventures sat around, most still wearing armor and weapons at their side; Earon noted as his eyes glanced around, trying not to linger. They mostly looked like normal people, otherwise. Smiling and enjoying ales like those back home. He couldn’t understand why these people would risk throwing it all away for some coin.
“That’s what I’m saying, why risk our lives like fools in the Clain barrens? Plenty of contracts going around on this side of the gate.”
Earon heard a voice say that piqued his interest.
“Ye coward, Fane. You want to run around all across the countryside for little bags of coppers?” A brutish-sounding man coughed, gurgling like he brought something up with it. “I’m no errand boy. We’ll earn ten times those shitty contracts beyond the gate.”
“He’s got a point, Dordan. Ever since that useless cleric went and got himself killed, we’ve been down a spellcaster.” Interjected a rough but feminine voice. “It might not be such a bad idea if we take easier jobs until we can fill his role.”
“Not to mention we never even got paid for that.” The voice Earon assumed belonged to Fane said. “A lot of good it does taking on high-paying jobs if you aren’t even able to cash them in.”
“Useless gits. Why do we got to wait around for puny, weak little spellcasters? I’ll die of boredom before we find someone worth their weight.”
“He’s got a point,” Fane sighed.
“Yeah, does he? So, I suppose it’ll be you twos whose job it is to handle any casters we come across? An Orc Witch Doctor, maybe? Goblin Shaman? Shadow Priest? Corpse Walker Necromancer?”
“We get it. It’s not as if it’s by choice. Look around, how many casters do you see? Maybe if we had one of those fancy badges and an adventure’s rank. But you know what? You kinda need to finish quests to get those.”
“It was just bad luck.” Grumbled Dordan into his chest.
“Look, all I’m saying is we take a few contracts around Caedstad. Pay our bills and see if we can’t find another caster before we head out into the barrens again. The plan hasn’t changed, okay?”
“Careful, Iliana,” Fane hissed. “We’ve uninvited ears.”
Earon had his neck twisted to the side, without realizing it – having become completely engrossed by the conversation.
The rogue, whom Earon could now see from the corner of his eyes hid beneath a low-pulled cowl – but he immediately realized who he was talking about, and grimaced as he turned back toward Sidos.
The group's conversation continued a couple of minutes longer at a whisper until they left the booth together.
Unable to restrain himself, Earon turned to watch the group leave.
The rogue was of average height and left little on display, his dark green cloak shrouding his face and tightly wrapped around his shoulders, though Earon could make out the tips of dagger sheaths on both sides of his waist. Following him, a huge man with long brown hair and rippled muscles that peeked through his rough leathers walked. An oversized, twohanded hammer-axe lay slung across his back – named for the double-sided edge, which consisted of an axe on one side, and a warhammer head on the other. Trailing close behind came a woman with shoulder-length black hair. A fine wooden bow hung over her shoulder, and a thin, weightless-looking sword at her side. Her features were sharp but delicate, and despite looking as if she called the road home, held a dignified air to her.
Earon blinked and took a double take. Furry black ears twitched above her head, piercing through her hair, and a thin tail waved at her back with a single strike of white through it.
That Iliana woman was Chimera.
Earon had heard of the bestial humanoids created by powerful casters but never actually expected to see one.
Inundated by an unfamiliar sense of excitement whilst listening to the foreign conversation, Earon found himself rocking on his chair and suddenly forced himself to stop.
A feeling of disgust swelled inside of him. Earon had spent the last two years resenting the adventure’s life, and those who chose it. Now he caught himself excited at the thought of their brazen heroics.
Had he been wrong? Was feeling the tinge of intoxication at the dreams of youth coming alive such a bad thing?
“Sorry,” Earon whispered.
He had lost perhaps the best friend he would ever have, and he couldn’t even be happy for her when she left. How could anyone be blamed for wanting something more than what Ryewood had to offer? It had taken too long, but finally, when forced to face reality, he realized it.
Perhaps he had been the foolish one. No, it wasn’t as simple as that. It never was. Running around wanting to complete quests and slay monsters was the reason Alyssia was likely dead. The reason he had lost his best friend. But at least he could empathize with her.
Earon shook his head; now wasn’t the time to get caught up in the past. He would go to the Spiral Tower with these mages. Let their business be done, and then head back home to Ryewood. Perhaps he would lay a wreath for Alyssia on his way back and say a proper goodbye.
A tear formed at the corner of Earon’s eye.
“Gonna eat that?” Sidos barked, his eyes rising from his bowl as he slurped the remains.
Groaning as if in response, Earon’s stomach verbalized its opposition.
Perhaps Earon’s stomach had shrunk a little after almost an entire day of non-stop riding, and the short walk toward Pipi’s Provisions was fraught with aches as his stomach wrestled to keep down the meal he had just inhaled.
Again, Earon fought back against the intrusive thoughts of adventure as he strolled Pipi’s isles. From fresh meat and vegetables to biscuits that could last an entire lifetime and cured meats of all kinds, the store seemed to have just about everything.
Behind the main counter from where a shrewd, fiery-haired leprechaun counted a variety of coins, and a woman, plain in comparison operated the till, was a glass cabinet. Elven rope, dwarven light cubes, flasks of bearing, and countless other magical items that could greatly improve one's chance of surviving against impossible odds hid behind the glass; all with eye-watering price tags Earon couldn’t even imagine affording.
“Something catch your eye, boy?” Sidos teased as he finished paying for the assortment of dried provisions he had collected.
“Nothing, it's nothing,” Earon replied as he turned his eyes away from the enchanting cabinet.
“Hurry up then, Master Rudis should be back any moment. And if I have any advice for you, it's best not to keep him waiting.”
Another half hour passed after Earon and the apprentices returned to the meeting spot before the master finally arrived.
He did not acknowledge his tardiness, simply waved the apprentices on as he mounted his white steed with a grunt.
Riding out from town, there was a feeling of relief leaving Caedstad behind, but it was muddied with something Earon hadn’t expected, disappointment. And the reopening of an old wound.
