Scouting Report From the Northern Reaches

 Following the conclusion of Comalan's first interstellar war, which saw the liberation of the botanical world of Allene and the end of the aggression they faced from the aquatic world of Mennon, a victory celebration in Dalaska was marred by the capture of a suspicious individual lurking in the city's vacant Chaotic temple. The man remains imprisoned in Heron, having refused to answer any questions. Among his personal effects, the authorities found only a wooden token depicting a wolf standing on a mountaintop and a single document, which only raised more questions.

Though we have discovered much of note in this expedition, it seems appropriate to address the phenomenon that launched our expedition. The mystery of the skybound stars took little time to solve after making landfall on the northern continent. Our journey has taken us across three borders and everyone we've spoken to has spoken with mixtures of worry and excitement that the four nations of this continent, and the system of islands to their immediate east have all banded together to make war beyond the confines of our world. They accomplished this with five large vessels that can fly beyond our skies into the reach of the plane of stars. Even now, their cause is difficult to wrap my head around. One thing is clear, however: despite the spider's foolhardy challenge to their lands, the northerners are unconcerned with any threats from our side of the world.

Our tactical assessment remains inconclusive, however. What our people must understand about the northerners is that, while they have developed some interesting technology--particularly in the southern nation, but some notable examples exist along the eastern shores of Resta and among the visitors from the isles of Midania-- the source of their power lies firmly within the free practice of magic. Here, there are no Eye Witches and Shadow Witches. Their disparate cultures hold distinct views on magic, with the northernmost country being the only region to hold anything approaching a realistic attitude towards the gifts of the Judges. The worst offenders lie within the eastern region of the continent, where magic is practiced freely by commoner and noble alike while two armies of spellcasters wield the official sanction of their royalty.

While this land, known as Resta, wields more magical power under its banner than every single banner that stands over our lands combined, what makes them most dangerous is their political ties to the other countries in the North. While the others have conflicts to exploit, the neutrality and wealth of this kingdom make them a friend to all. Any campaign on this continent must not begin here for to attack them is to provoke four other nations as well.

This leaves the other four nations, which are bound with Resta in an accord of convenience against their otherworldly enemies. But beneath this facade of unity sands two essential alliances, from which the strongest threat stands apart entirely. The southland has developed a warm relationship with the woodlands to the west despite the stark social differences in their cultures. These southern nation, which is called Galeon, feels a lot like home in terms of both society and climate, save for their tolerance of the caste system of their strange, long-eared neighbors. Imagine forming an alliance with the Black Crown and you will understand the confusion with which I observed the relationship between these unlikely allies. There is justified unease among the people of Galeon over this association, but a growing alliance among each of the powers who threaten respectively seems to make it necessary.

The other alliance consists of the archipelago to our northeast and the northlands from which I write this report. The Galeans have come to fear the island nation for their powerful navy. and its recent conflicts with Galean fishermen and oceanic research vessels. Here in the northern nation of Heron, the people are forthcoming with discussion of their centuries-old enmity with the woodlanders of Tanis. While their hostilities have been set aside for now, they are half-expected to resume with the defeat of their common foe. Shrewd politicians from the isles have capitalized on this hatred and the friendship between their foes and Galeon--with whom Heron shares a cold, mildly cordial relationship as is-- to form a compact. Similar to the all-encompassing threat I've referred to in Resta, to launch an attack on Heron is to declare war on Midania as well--and vice cersa.

If you're looking for a weakness in this realm, there are a few bright sides to the dark tidings I've reported so far. The first is that, while their technology has taken unexpected leaps, their most advanced weapons may have been a match for ours no less than twenty years ago. The second is the population itself. From what we've been able to tell, our banner alone carries half as many bodies as all of their combined. If we could get enough ships through the storms, we could overwhelm  each country one at a time. If Raven Hills combines their might with ours, we could claim the entire continent before the red banners realize what's happening.

In conclusion, the northern realm carries a lot of power, but it is not untamable. Although it remains the prerogative of his imperial highness and the Senate whether action in the north realm is appropriate, I offer the following actions in my duty as a scout.

Resta-- This nation is not to be trifled with. Its combination of magical power and political connections make a direct assault on their throne the most dangerous proposal one could make to the Senate. However, their flagrant abuse of the Judges' laws makes them a clear target. A campaign against them must be carefully planned, but cannot be executed swiftly enough from what I can see. But if we conquer their allies or cut their diplomatic connections first, we can put an end to their twisted abuse of magic with little trouble.

Galeon- Limited contact is recommended. Given their agreeable culture, pre-emptive aggression towards this country could be detrimental to morale and their strange ethic of nonintervention would make them poor military allies. Attempts to sabotage their diplomacy with Tanis would be simple and worthwhile, but only to deprive a much higher-priority target of a crucial ally. Whatever we do, we can expect contact with their impeccable spy network. But that is all the more reason to avoid making an enemy of them too quickly.

Tanis- The woodlands are a suitable target for our opening move. The oppressive caste system that guides their society is something few would miss and their reliance on magic is second only to Resta's. Fortunately, nonviolence is their way, so if diplomacy fails, there is little to stop us from subduing them with force once we break through their meager defenders.

Midania- Midania is second in two critical ways. Behind Resta, their legendary navy and political savvy makes them our second-largest threat and their geographically scattered population places them behind Tanis when ranking easy targets. It may be necessary to disable their fleet if our entire army is to make it across the sea.

Heron- Opening a campaign that far north would be most difficult for logistical reasons and their average martial skill could make the empress worry. Not to mention the fact that, while their culture is not as similar to ours as Galeon's, their respect for magic makes them among the least troubling force on the continent. An alliance with Raven Hills would make such a prospect even more unattractive for the same reason I wouldn't ask our own people to attack Galeon. If there was any reason to recommend an attack against Heron it would be the cabal of flame casters that seem to be leading a push to accept magic in the same perverted way the rest of the realm has.

Finally, I would recommend caution around those the north realm folk call Avatars. Their renown is high throughout the entire realm and they are spoken of in the same tones as our own Heroes. But since all of them were involved in this otherworldly campaign, any report I could give on them would be inconclusive. They are said to have been given incredible powers by the Judges, who they have dared to assign names to. It is claimed that each wields the power of a Judge, but the truth of that cannot be determined until they return to the realm. My investigation will continue with these individuals. However the Emperor and Senate choose to act on this information, I reaffirm my commitment to expand the reach of our light.

The Skysworn

By the light of the kilg, Comalan's sun, there is a cabal of warriors who swear to uphold the values of Tanis' Serene culture. Based in Fort Kieransgard, the elves of the Skysworn are a counterpart to Resta's templars, differing primarily in their solitary focus on Doctrines of Serenity. All Serene Doctrines are represented, namely Tranquility, Love, Dreams and-- to a much lesser extent-- Shadows. Those who join the Skysworn are taught to live by a particular ideal; all life in Tanis is to be protected. This informs various responsibilities including nature conservation, hunting for casters of dark magic native to the Bog of Anguish, offering safe harbor to Restan and Galean pilgrims, and collaborating with rangers to protect the land from their Heronite enemies.

This order owes its origins to a Restan templar by the name of Kieran Hawke, who once saved Tanis while escorting a group of pilgrims from his monastery in the year 2E87. He was unaware of the dangers of the Bog of Anguish, and so attempted to lead his people through it to Boggarde so that they may pay homage at a Serene temple there. This might have ended in the death or corruption of his entire group if not for a chance encounter with a ranger from Medear named Nalan. It was she who led the Templars safely through the bog, skirting known locations of sinister magical activity. Upon reaching their destination, Kieran bestowed a gift of prayer beads engraved with the markings of the Shadow Doctrine. Nalan initially rejected this gift for its association with Chaos, but a long and respectful discussion ultimately convinced her that the Shadow Doctrine was just as much a part of Serenity's wisdom as it was the war god's.

With the acolytes' charge to pray at the Boggarde temple completed, Kieran would thank his new elven friend once more before setting off toward Medear on a journey that would lead them back to Resta. Along the way, they would encounter an army of demons that bog witches had been cultivating in secret for over three decades. Although the rangers expected him to escape in order to protect his charges, Kieran led the acolytes to join the rangers in defense of Boggarde. While many acolytes would distinguish themselves as strong candidates for priesthood and knighthood in the ensuing battle, Kieran alone suffered a mortal wound from the horn of a crazed fever morph that took the form of a human-bull hybrid.

Understanding that this wound would finish him, Kieran surrendered his body to the gods for a powerful blast of divine energy that eradicated the remaining demons and rent a massive hole in the forest canopy. Elves who studied this miracle would find traces of Serenity in its aftermath as it opened up the sky not by harming the treeline above, but shoving thee branches aside. This exposed part of the Bog of Anguish to the sky for the first time and inspired many rangers to declare the site of this battle holy land. They would build a tower in this spot that reached beyond the treeline and swore to honor their newfound hero by adopting some virtues of his order. The Blackstone Order would send a commendation to the garrison of this new tower fifty years later, declaring them the Skysworn, Tanisian allies of the Blackstone Order. Nalan accepted this honor as the Skysworn's first Grand Master, pledging to uphold the honor that Kieran Hawke showed as a templar.

It Comes for Those Who Don't Run Part 16

Back to the Beginning

Previous

Aennin's day of drinking with Katim and Landah was a fateful one in that it seemed to start a tradition. From that point on, Aennin would be compelled to sit down at the bar for a round of flux whiskey whenever there was no work for him to do. This soon became a nearly weekly occurrence with mixed results. Even on the worst days, it was hard to complain because he was paid for his time and didn't need to do much besides stay conscious-- which was immediately paid into his family's debt. As he considered this during a particularly raucous occasion two months later, he thought to ask how much he and his sister still owed them.

Katim shrugged moodily. The flux wine had not been strong with him that day. "I don't carry the damned bill around with me! I only see on it pay days when I'm striking your month's pay from it."

Aennin frowned and slapped his glass on the table, which Landah quickly refilled. "I feel like I should know this information! Where do you keep the bill?"

Katim took a deep gulp straight from the bottle. "Gods damn! Why do we still drink this stuff? I'm not going to get it right now and you're not going into my office. If you want to know, ask your sister. She pesters me about it every month, so I can't imagine anyone more likely to remember your debt than her."

"It's about time for her shift," Landah slurred lazily. "You could-- you should go ask her now and check.. check on her. See if she's gonna be here."

"She'd better be," Katim growled before smashing the bottle behind the bar. "I'm not paying her to leave us high and dry in the week before Tey Bola ul Handeen. There are going to be hundreds of people pouring in! I might have to stick an apron to you two and put you both to work as well!"

"This one'd look good in the serving uniform," Landah said as he threw an arm around Aennin and pulled him in. "Imagine how much we could make with a red-haired version of Kana!"

Aennin ducked under Landah's arm and shot him a venemous glare while Katim said, "Those legs are for running, not for showing, you idiot!" Turning to Aennin, he added, "You seem to be doing better than this drunken lech right now. Maybe you could put those legs to work right now and get your sister. The first wave of celebrants will start pouring in any minute!"

"All I'm saying is if we're going to pay him to get drunk here, he may as well be making us money!" Landah protested. 

Whatever was said after that, Aennin didn't wait to hear. He darted out of the bar before Landah could start sizing him up for a skirt and jogged home as quickly as his drink-addled body could carry him. He took a shortcut he had discovered over months of repeating this route in order to avoid any nosy guards. He stumbled into the house to find Kana sitting on his mother's old armchair with a stony expression on her face.

"Have fun?" she said waspishly.

"Another day, another handful of gold," Aennin said weakly as he fell into the sofa.

"I'm not sure being drinking buddies with our mom's killer is what I'd call work," Kana hissed with hardly concealed contempt.

"Nor is getting your ass pinched by his customers," Aennin said a little hotly. "But we do what we must to get him off our case. How much do we still owe, anyway?"

"Nine hundred and fifty seven promises as of yesterday," Kana said with her face contorted in anger. "How much are you getting paid to drink with Katim and Landah?"

"Five a day," Aennin replied with a sigh. "Half what I make for each delivery. Fair, considering I don't actually do any work when I'm there."

"I wouldn't socialize with those two for ten times that much!" Kana snapped.

"It's not like I have a choice! We agreed that we'd do whatever they want until they wipe our debt," Aennin shot back. "Don't judge me for having a few drinks! I'm lucky they don't make me shuffle around the pub, serving drinks in the same uniform you wear! And considering what I just went through, I do mean that literally! Talk about something they couldn't pay me to do!"

"Yes, it's humiliating, but how do you think that makes me feel?" Kana shouted as she jumped out of the chair. "I'm angry every damned day! And I use that to motivate me to actually pay this damn debt and put this behind me! How are you supposed to do that if you become friends with these monsters?

"I'M NOT THEIR FRIEND!" Aennin roared, kicking the sofa over in a rage as he jumped to his feet as well. "I'm not getting close to Katim because I admire him, I'm doing it because I want him DEAD!"

Kana let out a gasp of shock. "You're not... planning to kill him, are you?"

Realizing his mistake, he shook his head. "No! I just--"

"I need to go to work," Kana said as she grabbed her apron from the coat rack and hurried to the door. "Whatever you're doing, forget about it! We never talked about this!"

Kana slammed the door in her haste to get away, leaving Aennin alone to contemplate what had just happened. Of course he wasn't going to kill Katim, he was waiting for Maula to do it! She wanted him to learn something from his employer, but the fact that Katim still drew breath meant he still had yet to learn it. He began to wonder if he was wasting his time by spending it in the way he had and what it would take to see his tormentor dead.

Adventures in Comalan: The Untouched City

Somewhere in the deep woods of Tanis lies a lone bunker that seems to lead to one of the elves' many subterranean settlements. This city is not plotted on any map and doesn't appear to have a name. No one seems to be aware of its existence save the scant few who have managed to discover it. The place is completely empty and even those who once swore to have explored it eventually forget all of its details. Concrete evidence of its existence can only be found in the journals of travelers who have seen there, but even those are rare and prone to strange mishaps. The last known recording of such an expedition only reports:

I have seen no one since I arrived, but there seems to be evidence of occupants all around. The shops are fully stocked, food is plentiful and fresh, and you can hear voices when you stop and listen. It's impossible to make out what any of them are saying because it's like standing in the middle of a large crowd. What bothers me about this place isn't that no one can be found here, but that it's emptiness seems clearly deceptive. It is hard to believe this place can even be real.

This is a passage that has only survived because the page on which it has been recorded is carefully preserved by a historian from the city of Setria by the name of Ayriel. She once collected many accounts of this unknown city until the majority of this collection vanished along with any memory of why she kept it. Among these recordings, only the words that are detailed above survived the series of random mishaps that collected the others. The author of the page is unknown and it is unclear why Ayriel has even chosen to keep it. When asked about it, she only replies "It's a very interesting writing. I'm curious about what it's for."

The researchers of Adventures in Comalan have determined that this is a city waiting to be explored, but an unintelligible curse exists to protect the secret of its existence. However, with our mass-produced format, it will someday be possible to attract enough adventurers who are interested in solving this mystery to investigate the city. Unfortunately, information of its location is limited to somewhere in the deep woods of northern Tanis. Given the power that has sealed away this place, it is assumed to be highly dangerous, but we are committed to providing leads to the most exciting adventures this world has to offer, no matter how dangerous even publishing our information might prove to be.

The Stoneguard

For most of their history, the elves' peaceful way of life has been threatened. In the primordial phase of their culture, they warred constantly with the dwarof who once shared the forest with them. After that, they faced constant invasion from the humans of Pyris. The elves were a resilient people, who used their understanding of the land and the magic within to not only survive, but demonstrate why they are the most longest-lived people. When Serenity came to bring the elves' current form to the primitive lenof tribe, they discovered magical power pervades everything in the world, including metals and minerals. It was through this epiphany that they have developed their cultural affinity for metalwork and masonry. But early feats of civil engineering borne from necessity (because it was against the elves' ways to disturb the living parts of the forest) evoked envy from foreign humans. Travelers from Eris and the Eastlands seeking to learn their ways were a welcome occurrence that the elves accommodated gracefully. However, Pyrisians were eager to take advantage of their lack of use for lumber by invading their land to cut the trees they hold sacred. This threat gave rise to the Stoneguard, an order of sentinels who protect the western forests with magical powers derived from precious gems.

Each Stoneguard is anointed similarly to Resta's knightly traditions and equipped with four stones that are woven into their uniforms, usually in their capes. The rubies they carry contain raw power, which can be released in beams of destructive light. They are also equipped with sapphires which cast a healing light, emeralds which are used to create barriers, and topazes that can inflict a handful of mental effects such as sleep, pacification, fear, and confusion on others. With these powers, the Stoneguard has created a powerful defensive force that has kept their borders safe throughout the First Age. However, as the War of the Gods concluded and Serenity punished the elves for their part in the persistent conflict, the knowledge of how the Stoneguards derived their unique powers were among the secrets she buried in the earth. Along with their knowledge, she also buried the Guardian Stone that was the true source of their power, then a massive chunk of Ruby, and cut the remaining members of the Stoneguard from their abilities.

While the elves made do without the Stoneguard for most of the Second Age thanks to the Heron's embrace of isolationism over imperialism, the resurgent demand for lumber in the Third Age would lead to Colin Piers reigniting tensions with the people of Tanis over disputed land. This increase in hostility terrified the elves, who began to seek the knowledge of the Stoneguard with the most fervor they had experienced in over three centuries. But it wasn't until the Avatar of Serenity arrived with her goddess' blessing to regain this information for them that the Stoneguard could return.

Ekera would join forces with Keran--the younger brother of an Elder-caste councilor of Setria--and his dear friend, a forest scout named Larim. The three of them would journey together to a tower in the Marble Desert which had only recently become known for containing the last Guardian Stone of the Stoneguard. But without the means to recover the massive ruby, they learned that the only alternative was to sacrifice a life to create a new Guardian Stone. So it was that Keran gave up his life to become the massive chunk of emerald that floats over the Guardian Tower to this day and Larim gave up her unexplored love to become the first in a new generation of Stoneguard.

With a new Guardian Stone in the surface world for the first time in thousands of years, the Stoneguard have created a garrison along their northern border with the greatest power that anyone has ever seen. Their defense of the forest would have become complete at this point if their resurgence hadn't coincided with the revival of the Pyromancers, who have the power to extort concessions of disputed territory with the implied threat of creating wildfires (although it is largely maintained by Heronites that this perceived threat is baseless due to the inclination of the new lord of the Piers territory, Collin's son Aden, to pull back as much as possible in this dispute). As a result, the relationship between these two countries remain tense and are improving slowly only thanks to the friendship between Larim and Umi Karn, a prominent Pyromancer. If open war were to break out, however, the Stoneguard stand readier than ever to defend their land and all of the natural life that dwells within.

It Comes For Those Who Don't Run Part 15

Back to the Beginning

Previous

It charges you from the around the next corner...

Aennin stumbled into work that afternoon a little slowly, still groggy from the effects of his mother's bogwine. It didn't take long for Landah and Katim to notice that he wasn't his usual self. The latter grasped him roughly by the collar and looked him deeply in the eyes. After a moment of searching, he shoved him roughly onto a barstool and vaulted over the bar.

"You're lucky I don't have anything for you to do right now," Katim growled as he slammed three glasses down on the bar. "Landah, is Remiel taken care of?"

Landah sat down on the stool next to Aennin with a nod. "Yeah, he's not going to be giving us any more trouble for a while."

"How long's a while?" Katim asked as he withdrew a bottle of amber-colored liquor from behind the bar.

Landah glanced at Aennin, who had put his head down on the bar. "Are you sure you want to talk about this in front of the kid?"

Katim rolled his eyes and chuckled. "He doesn't look like much of a kid to me anymore. I'm not even sure he's taking any of this in."

Landah nudged Aennin, who grumbled incomprehensibly in response. With raised eyebrows, he responded. "You have a point. Well, by a while, I mean at least a week. Maybe longer depending on how much attention he gets from the healers."

Aennin was scared to hear what he was hearing, but under the drink's influence, he felt a desire to relax and found it easy to follow it. On the plus side, Katim didn't seem to be interested in punishing his ill-chosen decision to walk into the pub while drunk. On the contrary, he felt himself jumping as Katim shoved one of the glasses at him. He took the glass in hand and stared at it. The liquid within had a very strong scent that seemed to inflame his brain with a single whiff.

"Drink," Katim commanded casually. "If you want to get sloshed, you're going to do it right instead of slowly drowning yourself with that piss your parents used to drink."

"What is it?" Aennin asked blearily.

"It's called flux whiskey," Katim said as he poured a glass each for himself. "It's only made in Heron, but it's legal to buy and sell here as long as it passes through the hands of a Restan or Galean trader first."

Landah frowned as he took his drink. "You're cruel, Katim. You know this shit always fucks me up!"

Katim laughed and took a joyous gulp of his own whiskey. "Suck it up! You know full well the strength of every glass is basically random! You'll feel like a fool for complaining if you don't even get a buzz!"

Aennin raised his eyebrows while continuing to examine his glass. "How can it be random?"

"They say the Heronites have to brew their whiskey in the wilderness to skirt the law," Landah explained, then took a gulp from his own glass. "If they don't keep it hidden enough, nymphs get into the stills and--"

"Piss in them!" Katim exclaimed with a chuckle.

Aennin had just taken his first sip when he heard this last part. As a result, he ended up spraying the bar with the fluid that he had in his mouth. Katim and Landah laughed while the former tossed a rag at him.

"Clean that shit up and finish your drink," the boss said cheerfully.

"How can you drink this if--"

"He was joking!" Landah said with some difficulty thanks to the laughter. "Nobody really knows what the nymphs do to the whiskey, but whatever it does makes it completely different from any other liquor. Part of the fun is seeing how it affects you from glass to glass. Drink it slowly, just in case, though."

Katim nodded in agreement. "You really will want to pace yourself. I was going to give you the day off before you decided to show up with a buzz. Now it's your responsibility to keep me amused and passing out won't get you out of it."

So, Aennin cleaned up the mess he had made over the bar with the rag he had been supplied with and continued to make conversation with the other elves. At the end of the day, he had been relieved to discover that he had gotten some of the lighter servings of the strange liquor. Even with the flux whiskey combined with the effects of Anera's bogwine, Aennin was still able to leave under his own power while Katim had passed out and Landah was left complaining that he couldn't even catch a buzz.

The walk back to the apartment was slowed down both by intoxication and a flurry of thoughts. Spending the day socializing with Katim was among the last things he ever expected to come out of this day, but it felt right. Morrin's dying wish to see this thug dead would only come to pass if Aennin could get closer to him. This alone would have made everything he experienced that day worth it, but he couldn't say he didn't enjoy himself nonetheless.

Next

It Comes for Those Who Don't Run Part 14

Back to the Beginning

Previous

You turn back and try to lose it down another path...

Aennin awoke with relief to dead silence in his room. This not only meant that the voice which haunted him had ceased to speak, but that he had woken up before Kana got home. He glanced at his bedside clock and found that it was less than an hour before dawn. Since leaving school, he did not usually wake up this early but, then again, he did not usually turn in as early as he did. As it turned out, drowning out the girl who spoke directly to his mind made him a motivated sleeper. With a yawn, he shrugged out of the clothes he had been wearing since the day before and began to prepare for the day. This time, he would be ready early so he could have a few minutes alone with his sister before she could pester him with the urgency of Katim's daily summons.

He didn't feel much like cooking, so he simply pulled a canister of mixed nuts and a bowl from the cupboard and pantry respectively and poured him a lead helping. With his bowl full of what would have to pass for that morning's breakfast in hand, he walked over to the dining table, where he found the cup he had drunk from the morning before. He picked up the cup and took it back to rinse it in the sink. But as he pumped the water, he suddenly realized that wasn't what he wanted to drink. He shook the cup dry and set it on the counter before slipping into the living room. There, he began to rummage through everything trying to find something better. He finally found what he was looking for in a compartment hidden beneath Anera's favorite chair: a bottle of her favorite bogwine.

He returned to the kitchen to pour what remained inside the bottle into his cup. He then settled into the table with his nuts and drink. As he chewed on his first handful of nuts, he began to ponder the pungent odor coming from his cup. It nearly nauseated him, but he was curious enough to try it anyway. After he had finished chewing, he gulped the food down with the wine-- and nearly spit it out.

"Well, that's enough of that, then," he muttered distastefully as he returned to the kitchen to replace the revolting drivel with some water.

As he stood up, however, he suddenly felt different. His limbs felt lighter and his head felt like it was floating. The sensation was subtle, but by the time he had reached the sink, he had already begun to rethink his plan. He understood then what made this drink so desirable to his mother. Even the ache that had followed him out of bed seemed to subside almost magically. Why waste such a miraculous elixir?

So, he finished the cup, then scrounged through more of his mother's things for more. She never seemed to run out, so it seemed unlikely that the bottle that was close to going empty was the only one around. Aennin's search seemed fruitless at first, for which he supposed he must blame Kana, but then his efforts led to their parents' bedroom. Neither of the siblings had walked into the master bedroom of the apartment since they lost their parents, but in this intoxicated daze, there was nothing to stop Aennin now.

He pushed open the door and gasped at the first glimpse of the room. The walls were etched with splatters of black paint and Anera's long-forgotten vanity seemed to have been replaced with a makeshift altar, on which a rotting goat's head rested. Aennin took this horrible sight in stride as his mission took precedence over this new mystery. Fortune favored Aennin at last when he rummaged through the closet and found another bottle hidden away in the pocket of a coat he hadn't seen his mother wear in years.

With another gulp of the disgusting, amazing drink put away, Aennin could once again turn his attention to the altar. Beneath the decaying skull was a card etched with his father's handwriting in only one word: Katim.

"Desperation can lead one to do things that would make them unrecognizable to their own family. How tragic that his gambit failed."

Aennin froze. Although the alcohol still held his nerves together, it could not contain the dread he felt at hearing that voice in his head once more. He was visited with a sudden urge to scrub his brain clean, but this impulse evoked laughter from her.

"You can't purify yourself by scouring what is already pure," the girl said in a playful tone.

"Who are you?" Aennin mumbled awkwardly.

"I'm the last goddess who heard your father's prayers," the girl said cryptically. "Alas, I don't receive many prayers--especially not from elves--but that is just one of many products of desperation."

Aennin's eyes widened with realization. He cursed his current state of intoxication, ashamed that a deity could see him in the act of something he was forbidden to do.

"I don't care what you do with your body," the goddess said with a trace of boredom in her voice. "Well, I might. That body could come in useful later."

"What do you want from me?" Aennin asked, unable to help himself from speaking despite being fully aware that it was unnecessary.

"Finally, the little elf asks!" the goddess chirped excitedly. "What I want is for you to take what I couldn't give to your father before he died."

Aennin's eyes wandered to the altar as his mind struggled to process what she was implying. He was talking to someone that elves in particular didn't pray to and the altar he had built to her held the name of his father's enemy.

 "My father actually prayed for you to kill Katim, didn't he? Lady Maula?"

"Right and right!" the goddess exclaimed. "Now he's dead but that doesn't mean I have to spare the vermin he wanted me to end. He went to a lot of trouble to earn my favor and he would want you to benefit from it."

"What did he do?"

"That doesn't matter and I highly doubt you want to know. Isn't knowing that he called out to me bad enough?"

Aennin shrugged and nodded. She had a point. He was tired of hearing worse and worse things about his father. Maula, the Goddess of Death, was the antithesis of Tanisian culture so even talking to her was a secret he planned to take to his grave. This thought incited a chuckle from the goddess.

"So, Katim is going to die? Just like that?"

"No, not just like that!" Maula snapped impatiently. "I'm sure you mortals love to view me as the type of person to just snap my fingers and make someone dead, but I'm not! For me to do this, there has to be a purpose!"

"I'm guessing my family's freedom isn't a good enough purpose," the boy mumbled in a disheartened tone that suddenly gave him pause. Did he seriously want Katim to die?

"Good guess!" Maula hissed. "No, Katim will die when I'm ready to kill him. Until then, I want you to stay close to him. The more you can learn from him, the more inclined I'll be to end his life."

Aennin tried to ask what the point of this command was, but she wouldn't respond. Finally, he shrugged and left the room with his bottle, which he hid in his room before returning to breakfast. He began to worry that this meant an end to his escape plan. If even a goddess wanted him near Katim, what right did he have to argue? He didn't know what would happen if he disobeyed Maula but, considering what she stood for, there was no sense in taking that risk. On the plus side, this could mean having the opportunity to watch Katim die.

But again, was Katim's death really what he wanted?

Next

Adventures in Comalan: The Bog of Anguish

Deep in the Tanisian wilderness lies a decrepit region where the trees are hollow and the ground reeks with the stench of decay. This bog encompasses a large swath of the country's northern lands. Surrounded by lands of dense, unpopulated forest and an unforgiving ocean, it is said that there is nothing to be found in this region but misfortune, which have led many to accept the "Bog of Anguish" as its moniker. For some reason, this harsh land seems to exist as a refutation of everything the elves of Tanis hold sacred. This is not an area that supports much of the life that Tanisians revere, apart from the tanistriders who feed on the decayed plant matter on the ground.

Discovering what causes this land to reject most life has been the subject of Tanis' longest-running scientific endeavor. Researchers stationed in the area reside in Boggarde, one of Tanis' few above-ground cities. The population of this city has eschewed the traditional caste system in favor of an open democracy because the dangers of the Bog of Anguish far outweigh the priorities that justify the existence of the castes. Everyone in Boggarde wants competent leadership that doesn't exclude any good ideas based on their source. Apart from organizing the study of the local region, Boggarde also exists as a sanctuary for travelers who get lost in the bog, where people may be guided back to the rest of civilization.

While many people have fallen victim to the bog's thick, perpetual fog and random sinkholes, the greatest danger lies in the warlocks who call the place home. Here, dark magic is practiced with impunity because few dare to wander this land to bring them to justice. For as long as the Bog of Anguish has been charted, stories have reached the rest of the Tanisian cities of travelers who get lost, only to return as an image of their worst fears. These fever morphs roam the bog in search of mortals to share in their unending terror. They, and the dark mages who created them, stand as a rare exception to Tanis' legal condemnation of fatal action. Among everything that threatens a Tanisian, they alone are to be killed on sight.

Even in an adventure guide such as this one, it cannot be stressed enough that the Bog of Anguish is to be avoided unless you have business in Boggarde. But even if you don't, this place is the ideal destination for those seeking to learn more about dark magic-- or punish those who dare to use it.

It Comes For Those Who Don't Run Part 13

Back to the Beginning

Previous

One wrong turn and it has found you again...

Returning to work for Katim after being manipulated into helping him kill his father broke something in Aennin's resigned cooperation. He still kept his head down and did his job for the most part, but he found it harder and harder over the next week to hide his growing contempt for his boss. Katim couldn't have expected Aennin to remain ignorant of his father's fate forever, which might have been the reason for his patience with his push back. When Aennin shrugged off his attempts at conversation, he would smile. When Aennin said something snarky, he would dispense with his usual veiled threats and put him down with his wit. The more Aennin tried to distance himself from Katim, the closer they seemed to get, no matter how baldly he expressed his disdain.

With Katim's increased attention, Aennin began to worry that he would never see Nazan again. The warning of the boy's only friend that Katim's eyes were everywhere seemed to hold true especially in his case. They were even walking home together.

One day, eight days after Morrin's death, Katim had accompanied Aennin home from the pub after a long delivery that had taken him up to the surface, through the Elder district of Bluegold Way. He was tired, and not in the mood to be on his guard. But Katim had made an excuse of picking up Kana for her shift at the bar, so he couldn't excuse himself. As Aennin reached for the front door back home, though, Katim took him by the shoulders and pinned him to the wall.

"I think we need to have a quick chat," he whispered. "Invite me into your home."

That would certainly be a change of pace for the two of them, Aennin thought. He never wanted Katim in his home less than he did then, but there was nothing to be gained from resisting him now but further terror.

"Come in, then," Aennin replied sulkily. He shoved his way past Katim and opened the door. "Try not to trip over some part of my life you've broken on the way in."

"That's what I'm talking about," Katim moaned dramatically once he was past the threshold. "I just did you a huge favor, but I get the feeling you don't appreciate it."

Aennin closed the door with a scoff. "Please, explain to me how killing my father was a favor to me."

"How would letting him live have been?" Katim retorted with a smirk. "You and I both know that Morrin was a piece of trash. All I did was prevent you from dragging you down with him."

"Is that what you think you did?" Aennin wrinkled his nose. "He already pulled that off when you came into our lives!"

Katim chuckled and nodded in good nature. "You got me there. But things can always be so much worse, like they would have been if the fat bastard had followed through on his plan to collect you and your sister and flee the city without squaring his debt to me."

Had they really been that close to escaping their debtor? Aennin gave away this thought with a gulp. His father had spent his final moments plotting his and Kana's rescue and he himself had been involved in squashing that hope.

"Let's be clear, kid," Katim growled, a faint trace of his usual danger glinting in his expression. "Morrin's plan would never have worked. The people he tried to pay off to help you escape work for me and the guards who watch the city gates are on my payroll. And I do mean for every shift. No one that I have a personal interest in can leave this city without my knowledge."

He glanced toward the stairs and added. "Even if everything had gone exactly as Morrin had planned, all three of you would be dead somewhere on the road to Oasis right now."

Aennin lowered his eyes and sighed, knowing that what he was hearing was true immediately. It wasn't as if he had come to trust Katim, but he knew full well that this man's word was as strong as iron. Katim wasn't the sort of man who felt the need to lie often. He dissembled with the authorities who would occasionally call on him at the pub, sure, and he would intentionally omit any details he didn't want others to know, but nothing Katim has ever said to Aennin has proven to be untrue in the past.

"Hey!" Katim said in a more comforting tone. "There's no need for you to bring back the tortured routine! I was starting to get used to the new you!"

"Should I tell you the truth more often?" Aennin grumbled halfheartedly.

"It would help your position a lot more than this meek shit you first came to me with." Katim smirked and ruffled Aennin's hair, causing him to flinch.

"Gods! You're really terrified of me, aren't you?"

Aennin shook his head with barely restrained fury. "I don't like when people touch my hair."

Katim snickered. "If you say so! Keep up the new attitude at work, Aennin. I'll make you one of us yet and, when that day comes, you'll be making more money than you know what to do with!"

"The only money I want is to pay your damned debt so I never have to see your face again!" Aennin snarled, his anger nearing its peak. Who was this bastard to talk so casually, even positively, about murdering his father? Did he really think he and Aennin were ever going to be friends?

Katim didn't get a chance to return as Kana had chosen that moment to come downstairs. If the incredulous expression she aimed toward her sibling was any indication, she had overheard what Aennin had just said. He would have to explain later, but he had the feeling Katim would do the honors when she blanketed the boss with apologies on his behalf on their way to the pub.

"Ah, there you are!" Katim said cheerfully. "We've got a busy night at the pub, tonight? I hope you plan to bring some pep today!"

"As much as I can spare, sir," Kana said quietly once she was at the bottom of the steps. 

Katim sighed dramatically and shook his head. "That doesn't sound like much. Come on!"

So, Kana and Katim left the apartment and made for the now-familiar pub, leaving Aennin alone to find his way up to bed. He trudged up the stairs, feeling older somehow as he did so. Is this how his mother felt whenever she had to use the stairs? Perhaps this sensation had something to do with why she spent most of her time in that old chair. The boy shook off his fatigue as well as he could even as he pushed open his bedroom door. He may have been tired, but he was too young to feel that tired. 

When he finally put his head to his pillow, though, his thoughts were interrupted by a strange, melodic laugh that sounded like it was coming from a woman. Aennin was quickly able to rule out his sister's sudden return as the voice sounded higher, like the laugh of a teenage girl. He looked around and saw nothing but his shadow cast on a wall by his bedside lamp, a self-made contraption of metal and blue crystals that were formed in the shape of a clock. But still, he stood up to get a closer look. The shadow looked so unlike his own  at that moment. He didn't see the boy he was, but a much taller, bulkier man adorned in what appeared to be a horned helmet. 

"What vermin!" A girl's voice hissed, although no one was around. 

Aennin was startled by the sound, so much so that he dived back into the bed, seeking safety in the comfort of his blanket. The futile gesture only provoked another chuckle from the unseen presence.

"He's trying to change you in a way that suits me," she added in a whisper. "But he is so arrogant that he truly believes he's doing it purely for his own benefit! You should kill him, not only for what he's done to you, but his hubris!"

Aennin folded his pillow around his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. But nothing he did to muffle his hearing made the voice any less audible.

"I guess we'll talk later, then! Stay alive, boy," the girl said in a singsong voice. "You're not allowed to die by anyone's hand but mine!"

Next

It Comes for Those Who Don't Run Part 12

Back to the Beginning

Previous

It's voice echoes through the halls...

Aennin's trek to deliver the ticking parcel was a quick one, despite the fact that he had managed to get lost along the way. He felt a sense of urgency well up at this point and was tempted to run, but Katim's specific instructions not to suppressed that urge. He was now in Pewter Lane, a Worker caste neighborhood several levels beneath where he had come from. This was unusual in that he knew Katim rarely dealt with workers. Although he gleefully allowed them to patronize his bar and would sell his drugs to them there, this was the first time the boy had ever been bidden to make a delivery this far away. He had never been there before, a fact which contributed to his growing confusion, but he knew better than to ask for directions. Any work he did for Katim had to be on the wrong side of the law, and he knew the guards couldn't be trusted to help him.

What was more, he wasn't particularly interested in talking to the locals either, as workers tended to be among his most hated classmates back in school. While he did not particularly feel any disdain for their way of life, he had been on the wrong side of their ire on too many occasions. He supposed that he ought to let this hatred go since the fact that his parents were gone and what remained of his family had no business to call their own made him consider himself less attached to his own caste. But as he glanced at the faces of the people around him as he walked, he could sense that the workers knew he didn't belong there. Let them have their frontier pride and move along, he told himself bitterly.

Aennin glanced at the note that Katim had attached to his package to refer to its directions once more, but sighed as he found them less helpful than the last time he looked. Wherever he was now, he couldn't recognize any of the landmarks that his employer had described. He had been close to dumping the package and formulating an acceptable lie when he felt an icy hand close around his wrist. He looked up with a start to find himself face to face with a brunette woman he had recognized from the pub. The boy had only seen this person a handful of times and thus had never learned her name. But she regarded him with an expectant look all the same.

"Is that the package bound for Pewter Lane?" she asked sharply.

Aennin nodded slowly. "Where else would I be taking it? Do you think I'd choose to wander this tunnel-dweller street for the pleasant company?"

"Watch your mouth!" the woman hissed angrily. "This is my home you are talking about, and your slurs are not welcome here."

Aennin sighed and gave her an apologetic shrug, figuring it best not to provoke her further. "Sorry! I'm just frustrated because I've never been here before and I keep getting turned around."

"Well, you can stop wandering around so conspicuously and hand the package over," the woman responded coolly. "I will complete this delivery."

This was worded as an offer and delivered in the tone of a request, but Aennin could tell that it was neither, but a command. This visibly startled the boy, with whom Katim had made it clear that he was not to let go of any of his parcels until he reached the place to which they were bound for delivery.

"I've seen you around the pub, so you probably know full well that I can't do that," Aennin replied with a stoic expression that bravely concealed the unusual fear that he felt in this woman's presence. "I'll finish my job if you can just tell me where to go."

"You've run out of time!" The woman snapped impatiently. "If you don't give me that box now, you will almost certainly die."

The bluntness of her threat sapped the courage he had been so careful to maintain, but no matter how scary she was, he feared Katim more. "And who should I say has it when Katim asks?"

"You can tell him that Thea generously decided to help you out," the woman replied coldly. "Now give me the box and go back to Bronze Street where you belong!"

The force of this reiterated demand overruled what remained of the boy's resistance. He handed the box to Thea, taking some comfort in the notion that he could pass the responsibility for this seemingly important delivery to someone else Katim knew. Without a word, she turned on her heels and walked away briskly. With nothing else to do, Aennin made his way back up the steps to the familiarity of Bronze Street to complete the delivery that Landah had arranged instead. This was a more routine journey that was punctuated by an unexpected encounter with Nazan. The man had been skulking through the street outside Katim's in a hooded cloak. Before he could go back inside to report his qualified success, the man grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and pinned him to the outer wall of an ingot dealer's store.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the man hissed in fury. "Do you know what you've just done?"

The boy shook his head wildly as he struggled to identify the man. After a moment, Nazan pulled off his hood and stared hard into his eyes. His head had been shaved and tattooed with a sickle pattern around his crown, giving him what looked like a black diadem, but his face was instantly recognizable.

"Nazan?" Aennin sputtered in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

The man sighed and released the boy before saying, "You were just in Pewter Lane, right?"

Aennin felt his skin go cold as he responded with a nod, then added, "I was delivering a package for Katim. He has me and Kana working for him since our mom died and father ran off!"

Nazan rubbed his temples wearily for several long moments. He seemed to be contemplating something, and months in Katim's company had taught him never to disturb such concentration. Finally, Nazan kicked the wall and hissed, "That fucking bastard!"

Aennin's eyes widened with alarm and he asked, "What?"

Nazan looked solemnly into Aennin's eyes. "Your father is dead. He was killed by an explosion."

This news should have shocked Aennin, but hearing of Morrin's death didn't feel the same as watching his mother die. Thinking back, he remembered the new type of weapon he had once read about. One that used the inner workings of a clock to combine petrified maulan skin and kerunite for a powerful explosion. This sort of bomb, known as a chaos buster, was used frequently in Resta although the maulan skin had become exceedingly rare in the many years that had passed since the Wave of Death. The boy clutched two fistfuls of his own hair as he thought back to the now-sinister memory of the ticking box.

"The thing he had me delivering sounded like a clock, but it could have been--"

"He used you!" Nazan snapped venomously. "And I thought I had plenty of reason to hate him before!"

"I can't keep doing this!" Aennin whimpered. "He's making me dismantle everything I cared about! You have to get us out of here!"

Nazan shook his head. "I want to help you, but I can't yet! Katim has eyes everywhere and if we're going to avoid them, we need to do this the right way!"

"When, then?" Aennin asked with a fearful expression.

"Just keep your head down and do your job," Nazan said quietly. "I'll come to you when I figure this out."

Aennin nodded shakily and watched as Nazan replaced his hood and disappeared into the crowd. For Aennin, the next thing to do was returning to work and pretending as if nothing had happened. He had never pictured himself having a harder time with that, however, a second difference between the deaths of his parents made itself apparent just then: he was partially responsible for Morrin's demise.

Next

It Comes For Those Who Don't Run, Part 11

Back to the Beginning

Previous

You have lost it for now, but beware...

Aennin wanted to talk to Kana about giving up the clock shop for good, but she wasn't home when Katim finally let him off for the night, but was serving drinks at the pub. This was the case every night that followed. This pattern was more than a coincidence, he was sure. After weeks of work for Katim, it became clear that their schedules were arranged so that neither of them were busy at the same time. Every day, Aennin ran around town, delivering packages for his new boss while nights were spent at home, worrying about what his sister was dealing with at the pub. Aennin was specifically forbidden from going to the pub at night because of his age, which Katim worried might be more of a problem when the place was busy, so he could never check on her. Whenever she came home from her shifts every morning, she would shrug off his questions and remind him that Katim was waiting before stumbling to bed.

This trend continued until Aennin stopped inquiring about her, figuring that she would say something if she were in trouble. As their work became routine, so did a new family dynamic in the apartment. Whole days would go by in which they didn't see each other at all, to the point that they began to feel less like siblings and more like two strangers living in the same home. As much as this saddened the boy, it wasn't as if he was lonely. Despite his emphatic desire to avoid becoming friendly with the criminals in Katim's employ, he ended up making friends with Landah. Whenever Katim was too busy to give Aennin anything to do, Landah would be the one to set him on his route. Aennin quickly began to prefer getting his assignments from him to interacting with Katim because of Landah's helpful attitude. One day, after a month in Katim's employ, Aennin felt bold enough to ask Landah why he was always so nice to him.

"I used to run packages for Katim before I got... promoted," the man said with a smile. "I just think you could benefit from my experience. If you can get a run done quickly, that helps the whole crew."

Aennin nodded in understanding. "When I first started here, I thought everyone here hated each other. But you really care about this group, don't you?"

Landah stood up from his favorite stool and leaned over the bar to fumble for something under the counter. From there, he withdrew a framed picture of a young boy standing on a pile of rubble, hugging another in tattered clothing. The larger of the two appeared to be weeping while the smaller had a face stricken with intense rage.

"This is a portrait Seliah took of me and Katim when we were just boys," he said as he handed the picture to Aennin for a closer look.

Aennin looked at the picture with interest. "What happened to you?"

Landah sighed and picked up his drink for another sip. Upon setting it down, he replied. "This is what the caste system has done to us. Do you know what happens to a Mercantile family that goes completely broke?"

Aennin simply shook his head. He had plenty of reason to contemplate that question long before the man had asked, especially with his old fears of his father running their shop into the ground. But working for Katim had alleviated that concern. While he was still heavily paying for his father's mistakes, he was still paid enough to make sure that he and Kana would live comfortably.

Landah rolled his eyes and said, "Okay, well those of us who lose our family fortunes wind up relying on the kindness of others to survive. You have to be able to find a charitable stranger or starve to death. It's that simple."

Aennin frowned and handed the picture back. "That sounds terrible! I guess I'm lucky that I don't have to live like that."

Landah nodded as he continued to stare at the picture. "This portrait was made when Seliah found us, close to sfarving. Have you met her yet?"

Aennin shook his head.

"She's a sweet old lady. She took us into her household and tried to pass us off as Worker boys. But seeing how another caste lives was like a slap in the face to us. We went to a new school, where we actually felt like we belonged. It was a boring place, and the responsibilities they foisted on us were over the top."

"How so?"

"Everyone in the Worker Caste is expected to be both smart and strong. We were expected to grow up working hard building shit or clearing up the ruins while still being extensively trained in archaeology."

Landah paused and took another sip of his drink. "As you can probably imagine, there was a lot of stress in that school. It got to me and plenty of the friends we made. But Katim always seemed to take everything in stride. That was until one day, when he was 17. He just blew up in class one day and started ranting about the Caste system. How the merchants have no safety net when their businesses fail, how workers bust their asses day after day, and how the people of the Elder caste ignore everyone else."

Aennin frowned and mumbled. "My mother used to be Elder Caste. She wanted me to leave my caste and join them."

Landah looked at Aennin with a sympathetic expression and said, "Well, I couldn't disagree with that ideal more, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry you didn't get to make her proud."

Aennin went silent, afraid to say what was on my mind. Whose fault was that, anyway?

"Look, I really am sorry. If I was there when those guys went to your place, I would have tried to stop them from going so far."

"Who was there?" Aennin suddenly asked, his eyes suddenly piercing those of the older elf.

Landah shook his head and scoffed. "Come on, Aennin! You know I can't answer that question!"

Feeling bolder, Aennin replied. "Don't you think I deserve to know? I could have talked to them!"

"You really don't want to dig into that mess," Landah said as he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Katim would rather you let that go and I think we both know what will happen if you don't."

Aennin sighed and began to stare at the counter, listening to the chatter of the pub's few morning patrons. Landah continued to stare at the portrait and neither of them said anything until Katim emerged from his office, moving in a hurry.

"Oh good, you're still here!" Katim said to Aennin with a grin on his face. "There's been a change of plans. Whatever Landah was about to have you do, forget about it."

Aennin looked up as if he had only just noticed the boss' presence. "What's up?"

Katim set a box on the bar between Aennin's outstretched arms. The boy picked it up and found it to be much heavier than usual.

"You're going to take this to the address that's written on the box, leave it by the door and come right back," the pub owner said cheerfully. "Now, the contents are a little too fragile for you to run with this one, but you don't need to waste time talking to anyone. Just drop it off and then you can complete the delivery."

"Or, he could just take both of them out at the same time. Mine was actually time sensitive," Landah said pointedly.

Katim glanced at the other man and his eyes narrowed when he saw the old picture. "Put that away!"

Landah sighed and stuffed the portrait back under the bar counter.

Katim then glanced to Aennin. "So is mine, but he has a point. Just deliver mine first, whatever you do."

Without leaving any other room to argue, Katim returned to office and Landah smiled weakly. "Well, if you do this one first, you can at least start running with this one once that's done."

Landah handed Aennin a brass mail tube like he was used to delivering. "Well, you'd better get going. If Katim's willing to keep one of his favorite customers waiting, that box must be important.

Aennin stuffed the tube in his satchel and picked up the box. "I'll try to be quick."

Landah turned away from Aennin and began to pour himself another drink as the boy left. Once he was outside, he put the box to his ear and rattled it gently. It sounded like a clock. Could he be delivering some of the last of his stock?

Next

The Magister's Rage, Part 13

Read from the Beginning!

Back to Part 12

Finding Adamora in the Marble Desert wasn't quite the challenge most would anticipate. There were two towns on either side of the Tanisian-Galean border. Contrary to my intention to explore Tanis, my search began on the southern side of the border in the Galean city of Gienah, which was primarily a hub for aeronautics testing. I had hoped that my cousin would be attracted to the novelty of mechanical flight and reasoned that if my worst fears of Adaling's influence were real, she would at least enjoy more comfort there than in the elven village to the North, Marble Oasis. While both of these notions turned out to be false, I was able to learn more about the legend Adamora made for herself as Telandra Dawnstrike from elven visitors to the city.

From these travelers I learned that my cousin had begun to wander the border land while living out of a wagon that did not seem to require anything to pull it. That would certainly have been evidence of the Maloran family's long history with magic as would the tales of her individual deeds that reached my ears. She sounded very much like a spellwarrior as I heard of her robbing a bandit gang single-handed to compensate the losses of a trader caravan they had terrorized, or felling vicious sand beasts with her mace and a wealth of divine magic. I could not help but feel slighted at the time, knowing that she had co-opted the lifestyle I had long coveted, thus proving that it was possible for me as well. I had to remind myself that she was haunted by a danger that I understood too well to shake myself free of the envy I felt.

With a better idea of what I was looking for, I set off back into the sands and began to scan the border from atop my sky rug. I would find Telandra's wagon parked next to the remains of a crashed flying machine, where my dear cousin was picking through the damaged machinery for salvageable parts. When I found her, she reacted with anger upon recognizing me. This was quite understandable considering my long absence in her life, but she had heard the same rumors Kartal had of my actions with my old coven. What was more, she had been intentionally avoiding me and everyone else she knew because she feared any thought or memory she could associate with her curse. This was the entire purpose of her newly asserted identity. She wanted to repress Adaling by forgetting herself completely.

She was clearly displeased with my presence, but instead of acquiescing to her demand to leave her be, I quickly grew angry myself. Quickly reflecting on my failure to control Garanda, I was reminded of how many times crimes I had allowed by trying to do so on my own. My recent encounters with Takaa, Kartal, and Michael Blackstone's resistance were examples of a lesson I had firmly refused to learn until I saw Adamora stubbornly committing to a similar mistake.

I couldn't do this alone and neither could she.

I made the most carefully reasoned arguments I could to that effect and had slowly begun to wear away her irritation. I had to make many of the same confessions I have earlier in this text and put my actions into context to regain her trust, however. I fear that she might be the only one who could understand the depth of the pain that pushed me down my path and the sincerity with which I intend to redeem myself. In this interview, I learned of the brass locket she had used to contain Adaling's spirit. She had learned to do so by observing Adaling's instruction of Flinbek, a fact which confirmed my fear that the Shadow Witch was well practiced in soul magic.

This locket was a form of sparesoul--or tangible object containing a living or recently-deceased soul-- and she had fortunately kept it in her possession in the belief that it would be especially dangerous in the hands of someone who didn't fear Adaling as much as we did. As I began to study it, I began to make deductions of my own about what Broger had done with Garanda. As a fellow soul mage, it would be possible for him to seal Garanda's spirit inside another sparesoul. If I could find this sparesoul, I would possess the means to stop him or at least locate him.

This necessitated a return to Blackstone Farm with the intent of locating some clue as to the sparesoul's location. I would fortunately find the old farmhouse abandoned in a hurry. It seemed that Broger could not trust his countermeasures against my presence to hold me and my questions at bay indefinitely. I could tell from the scattering of documents and research materials that he had left in quite a hurry and their condition hinted that this might have happened recently. Among the many discarded documents, I found what I was looking for: a perfect description of the sparesoul which apparently took the form of a flawlessly cut black diamond.

In addition to research notes, I found a letter from an acquaintance named Fariel demanding that Broger pick up an object he had left in his care. He seemed to have been terrified of this package and deeply suspected it to be cursed. Fariel, fortunately enough, was a name that I recognized. As the proprietor of an inn in the Tanisian city of Arrellys, I had come across his name and establishment countless times in my various travels through Tanis. This discovery felt like providence, but I was apprehensive of rushing into a potential trap. So, I left Adamora to continue her charade as the desert bandit for a while longer as I set out for Arrellys. 

I reached the Traveler's Respite late that afternoon, but found that reaching Fariel himself would be far less simple. The effects of the cursed object he claimed to harbor might have driven him into hysterics or he might have been aware that I was coming and unsure of how to handle me. At either rate, I could only patiently wait for him to see me. The first night would have been a complete waste had it not been the fateful night I met Voltairine, the love of my life. I had been reading my copy of my favorite book, "The Butcher by the River" in a corner near the bar while enjoying a glass of bogwine, a popular elven vintage and she seemed to have been there for the same purpose that drives her everyday: enjoying life. She had just finished a conversation with someone else and approached me politely to inquire about my book. I was happy to answer her questions since I wasn't seriously invested in the book anyway; it was my fifth reading. I enjoyed her company quite casually for much of the night, until the bar closed for the night and I was forced to retire to my room.

The next day passed in much the same way as the previous evening, though the bar was much more crowded and I lacked the blessing of Voltairine's company. The noise and the absurdity of being so patient wore on my nerves that day and I was soon compelled to do something drastic. I strode purposefully up the stairs and forced my way into Fariel's office. As I feared, the office was rigged to explode when I forced my way into the door. Though I was able to get away quickly enough to avoid injury, such a destructive clamor in a public place was bound to draw attention that would only impair my quest. Though I predicted that someone would investigate the sound, I never imagined that would be the second time I'd see Voltairine.

While I searched the remains of the office for the package, I found Fariel's corpse among the wreckage. The idea that he would sit in a room that was rigged to explode led me to assume that he was dead before I arrived. Seeing this body, Voltairine's curiosity demanded my attention. While I discouraged her from getting involved with my troubles, she stubbornly insisted on prying into my affairs. I realize in hindsight that I should have been more annoyed that she was wasting time that had been suddenly limited with her interest in what I was doing, but I found her stubbornness oddly endearing. Eventually, I could only give fair warning of the risks my secrets carry and answer a few questions just so I could break away for long enough to continue my frantic search.

What I found, however, was a farce. A small cutting of black diamond was all I found in the package clearly left to taunt me. I could feel a small trace of the spiritual energy that marked it as a sparesoul, but I felt no hint of Garanda's presence. It was clear to me in that moment that I had come to this place for nothing and would need to leave quickly. I took Voltairine with me into a hastily-conjured portal that led us to the city of Orion. With this mere fragment of the sparesoul in hand, I was back to stumbling in the dark without clues, but my disappointment was eclipsed by exhilaration.

In the relative safely of some place far from the Traveler's Respite, Voltairine chose then to bombard me with further questions. Remembering the lesson I had tried to impress upon my cousin the day before and oddly compelled to trust such a beautiful soul, I told her my tale. While she was skeptical and fundamentally uninformed about the legend of Garanda, she seemed intrigued and consequently eager to lend her assistance. Although I saw no practical point to accepting her aid, I thought only of welcoming her company when I did just that. Having gained a new companion, my next move was to return to the desert and discuss an alternate arrangement to protect Adamora from her own curse.

Continue to Part 14

The Festival of Spring

As each new year dawns, young floral sprites emerge from their seedlings while their older peers return from a winter spent in human form so as to survive the cold. It is during these first few weeks that people begin to join the fey in arranging the Festival of Serenity, also known as the Spring Festival or Festival of Spring. As the third week of the season begins, people flock to Orion's Trinity Square and Resta City's Gilded Keep to commune with the local fey in gratitude for their contributions to the lives of mortals. As the bridges between mortal and fey life, the floral sprites play host to all manner of celebrants, serving tea and sweets while serenading them with their otherworldly voices and playing hide-and-seek with the children.

This tradition dates back to First Age Terris, in which the first bond was formed between elves and eversprites. When the lenoff and dwarof clans still clashed over a forest that was very much considered Crane's experimental region, the fey creatures he designed suffered the most. The ancestors of the dwarves in particular once hunted them for sustenance. It was the lenoff clan's peaceful coexistence with the fey that ultimately led to their dominance over the forest. While the dwarof were driven deeper into the earth, the lenoff shared the surface with these creatures in joyful harmony. It is said that this cooperative relationship between races was what initially drew Serenity's attention when she first laid eyes on Comalan.

The relationship between elves and the fey became the basis for Serenity's growing sympathy for the creatures that Chaos and Crane created. It is for this reason that the protection of magical creatures became enshrined in the Doctrine of Tranquility, marking any sin against them as the most grievous. This association between Serenity and the fey carried over into Resta's traditions when its citizens began to welcome Serene worship. This is the source of the floral sprites' role in the holiday.

When the floral sprites were first discovered in Coronos, they were met with indifference until their magical transformations were discovered. This began the practice of capturing floral sprites and other fey creatures by mages wishing to study their magical properties. Seeing humans as far too violent to approach, the fey began to go into hiding. The positive association between humans and elves caused this mistrust to extend to elvenkind as well and, as a result, mortals went for over forty years without seeing a single magical creature.

When common knowledge of the fey began to refer to them as extinct, an acolyte named Beatrice Whitetree made the first contact between humanity and floral sprites in decades. By then, Coronos and Necros had become Resta and Serene worship had become common in the region. This acolyte was among the first Blackstone Monastery trained in the Tranquility Doctrine, which made her encounter in Flora Field a most fateful one. While wandering among the flowers, she began to feel sick with an allergy to one of the flowers there.

Despite their fear, the sprites were unwilling to watch a human die. It was for this reason that they came out of hiding to heal Beatrice. When she came to, she told them stories she had learned in the Monastery in gratitude. Displaying her faith in Serenity reminded the sprites of the elves who once showed kindness to the fey and convinced them that humanity had changed. With Beatrice as their advocate, the floral sprites formed a connection with human society, offering their magical knowledge in exchange for the right to exist in peace.

This new arrangement brought the fey back into the light of day all over the continent and a festival was declared in Tanis in celebration. There, the elves and fey ate and drank as peers for the first time in a raucous party that created lasting memories for all involved. The floral sprites who attended this first festival introduced it into Restan tradition the very next year. This event has become far more restrained in recent years than in the first celebration, but the significance remains the same. The Spring Festival is a yearly reminder that the differences between mortal and fey only have to divide those with room for hatred in their hearts.