My footsteps echoed down the carefully carved stone corridor, lit by blue magical fire.
The academy's students and staff hurried along, heading toward their classes and assignments.
Eventually, I passed a large window, revealing the city in the distance, seemingly so tiny from the high walkways of the building I stood in.
However, this vision was fleeting compared to the beautiful woman I walked arm in arm with.
Romance had never been a priority in my life; I imagined that after our encounter on the training grounds, we would go our separate ways and never meet again.
Oh, how wrong I was.
"Alden, dear?"
"Yes, my love?"
"What will you do when you graduate?"
"Hm... If all goes as planned, I will attempt to become a member of the Academy of Magic. I wish to further my research, and I believe this is the right place to start. What about you?"
"I received letters from my mother and sisters. They miss me and wish me to return after completing my Pyromancy studies."
My heart sank, and tension coursed through me. My beloved seemed to notice, as her worried eyes met mine.
"Y-you're leaving?"
"Yes, but not forever, I hope. I told my family about us, and they approve of our union, and I want it to stay that way. And your parents, what did they say about us?"
I frowned, thinking about the day my relationship was discovered. Rumors reached my parents faster than my words, and the result was anything but what I desired.
-XXXXXX-
"Alden?" My father's deep voice reverberated through the dining room, like the sound of creaking wood.
"Yes, Father?" I said after putting down my cutlery and swallowing my food, but not daring to meet the eyes of the man at the other end of the long table.
"Your mother and I heard some interesting rumors coming from the academy…"
His elbows rested on the table with a thud, and his hands were in front of his face, hiding his mouth.
Internally, I prayed it was about anything but what I expected.
"…that you've become close to a young foreign woman."
The room with its shuttered windows lit by golden chandeliers fell silent.
The children of varying ages, my brothers and sisters, who sat on the sides of the table between my father and me, stared at me in surprise.
The mischievous glint in their eyes and the upturned corners of their mouths indicated a wave of teasing to come.
Slowly, I reached for the bottom of my plate, ready to throw it, but my mother, ever the mediator, interrupted the conversation with a polite cough, speaking in a gentle tone.
"Children, please don't tease your brother. You wouldn't want to be bothered for courting a lady, would you? And, dear, I think you could have approached the subject more subtly. It looks like he's going to be sick, poor thing."
My father let out a growl like a rabid animal, and my mother shrank in her seat.
She was already a small woman, thin and pale, with golden eyes and dark hair styled in a complicated hairstyle that had become fashionable among noble ladies, which, along with her voluminous dress and shoes, made her appear larger than she was.
I believe this was a way for her to feel secure and confident. Honestly, I thought the way she dressed was ridiculous; the amount of fabric blocked the corners of her vision, so she could only see what was directly in front of her.
However, I'd never in my life voiced my thoughts, and I never would. I felt sad every time I saw her, the woman who raised me with so much love reduced to a figure filled with fear and terror.
My father, on the other hand, seemed like a monster, or he was one, considering how much he'd changed.
There were paintings in his study and library of a tall, strong man in his youth, exuding strength and power born of deep dedication to magic and military experience.
Nowadays, I wondered if he was really my father, for the person in the paintings and the one in front of me couldn't be more different.
His once bright red hair and beard, short and neat, had become a sea of pale wine and white, his once towering height had diminished considerably, as had his mental faculties.
He had also gained weight, not to the point of being unhealthy, but rather bear-like; he still looked like someone capable of throwing me across the room.
In other words, age had destroyed his body, but I believe the stress and horror of the battlefield contributed.
"Next, who is she?"
I realized I had been talking to myself for too long, so I stammered a response, much to my father's displeasure.
"H-her name is Z…"
"COME ON, SPEAK! YOU HAVE A MOUTH, SO GET YOUR WORDS OUT!"
The dining table shook with the blow, and everyone flinched in their seats.
"HER NAME IS Z̴̧̰̰͋…"
"Hm… I see… And what family does she come from? What will our family gain from the union of you two?"
I knew it would come down to this. I wasn't naive; I knew I wouldn't live a fairy tale where I'd marry a commoner and we'd escape together on a white horse.
I was just lucky to fall in love with a woman my parents might approve of. After all, you don't enter Melfia without some kind of power or connections, be it financial, political, or magical.
"H-she's part of the Clan of the Desert Sorceresses of J-jugo."
I expected my father to explode immediately, throwing dishes and shouting insults. Instead, he placed a hand on his chin, thinking deeply.
"Does she hold any position of importance?"
"Z… She's the eldest daughter of the clan Matriarch."
"I assume she will become the next Matriarch in due time?"
"R-correct."
Silence returned, and we watched apprehensively for his answer.
Momentarily, I thought it would all be over and we could return to our meal, but the scrape of my father's chair across the floor sounded like a warning of calamity.
My mother muttered a call, but was silenced by a glance from the man approaching me. My brothers and sisters lowered their heads as his heavy footsteps approached them.
I sank into my seat, trying to appear as small as possible as he stared down at me like a giant with darkness hiding his face except for his goddamn eyes.
A large, heavy hand rested on the chair just beside my head. I fought the urge to look away and listened intently to the words that came next.
"I hope your memory serves to remind you of my words as it reminds you of your spells. The more power our family gains, the better—more land for the peasants to cultivate, more mines to extract resources, military and political connections to advance our interests. It was thanks to the union of your mother and I that we were able to secure a future for you at the Academy of Magic. Frankly, I wish you had chosen the daughter of one of the noble families of Melfia or neighboring kingdoms, not a band of wild women from a small kingdom covered in deserts forgotten by time. However, I see potential. The Matriarchs of the sorceresses hold power in the court of Jugo thanks to their service in times of war. I don't need to explain further, do I? Make sure this romance of yours with the sorceress works, or I will choose a new partner for you. Don't disappoint me, Alden; I have invested much resources in you."
With these words, my father's bulky form passed me by. His footsteps receding and the solid wood doors opening and closing signaled his departure.
I waited for his sounds to fade down the hallway before exhaling, gripping the table with trembling hands.
HUMP! He spoke as if I hadn't disappointed him my entire life. The first time had been when I was born, a weak and sickly child, the complete opposite of the man who called himself my father.
Little changed as I grew older. I remained small, weak, and thin, although my health improved, but that wasn't enough to please my father. I don't doubt he wonders if I'm really his son. Well, that didn't stop him from blaming my mother and trying to do more, whether with her or with other women.
It was an open secret; everyone knew, but no one talked about it. Some maids left suddenly and were never heard from again. I hope they received a generous sum of money in exchange for their departure and silence, in the face of the worst that could have happened.
My mother wasn't the best, but at least she made the effort to keep her secret hidden. I discovered her encounters with younger lovers by pure chance, and she knew it. I believe that was why she was so nervous to see me, and I suddenly found myself receiving special treatment from her.
She wanted my silence, and I wasn't about to speak anyway; I had enough problems of my own. After all, these were the intrigues of noble families. I wouldn't be surprised if my father suddenly fell ill and a new man entered our lives on the same day. The wonders of poison.
Hmm... How many of my relatives are actually my relatives? At least my brothers and sisters don't have dark secrets, yet...
The second disappointment came when I revealed to my parents that I didn't intend to pursue a military career. I still remember my father's screams and the spell aimed at my face. I thought I would die right then and there, but my mother managed to calm him before the worst happened. However, the phantom pain of the blow to my head still haunted me.
I desired to study magic to advance Melfia society, the thoughts of a scholar, but my father desired magic to conquer, the thoughts of a soldier.
The third biggest disappointment was when I grew tired of my frail physique and decided to take up arms to improve my skills—swords, spears, daggers, and axes. My good friend, whose name I constantly forgot and who boasted about his future as a warrior, put me on this path.
I understood the appeal, despite being terrible at close combat. However, in doing so, I went against a tradition that was slowly disappearing in Melfia: that swordsmanship and magic shouldn't mix.
Spells that created large soul blades and imbued swords and shields with magic were popping up in droves. Battle mages, I believe, were the correct term, but the kingdom's old guard, military men, and sorcerers, including my father, constantly protested.
From that day on, I stopped caring, made the decisions I thought best, and tried to hide it as much as possible from him. I believe I began to deliberately contradict him just to irritate father in secret; it made my heart skip a beat.
"Son?"
My mother broke the silence, and I slowly raised my head, staring into her nervous, hesitant face.
"Could you tell me more about her?"
The woman in front of me offered a shaky smile, which I returned, nodding before speaking more about my beloved.
-XXXXXX-
Z… I was still waiting for my answer, concern creeping across her face at my silence, so I sighed, pulling her into a comforting hug.
"The answer wasn't good, was it?"
She whispered gently, stroking my back with her gentle hands.
"My mother's, yes, but my father's, not so much."
"Look at me."
I did as she asked and found myself lost in her yellow eyes.
"It's going to be okay, understand?"
I nodded and watched as her lips approached mine. I returned the gesture, closing my eyes and leaning in too.
Finally, our lips touched, and then…
-XXXXXX-
I opened my eyes, but had trouble understanding what was happening, so I lay there for a few moments, allowing my consciousness to return.
The disorientation disappeared, as did the sleep. Struggles to my feet, I gritted my teeth as my joints, especially my back, cracked with every movement.
Sometimes I wonder why I wasn't cursed when I was younger. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.
Putting that aside, I realized what I had done as I stood and surveyed my surroundings.
I had slept and dreamed again, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't recall the dream. However, I briefly felt a mixture of anger and an unfamiliar heat before it all passed.
Why does this keep happening? Why am I trying to remember something that's gone?
A sudden crackling sound caught my attention. The Frenzied Flame burned brightly in my hand, and I took a while to extinguish it this time. It was getting worse. I need to know more about this flame. Godwyn and Raya Lucaria must have some answers.
The room I requested to rest after the festival was anything but pleasant. A dark stone room with a tiny window letting in a shaft of light, a partially rotted table and chair, two scraps of cloth that served as a pillow and bed, and a full bathtub.
Well, that was all that was left after the rot consumed Caelid, and I didn't intend to further abuse Jerren's generosity.
I heated the bathwater with Pyromancy and removed my clothes, grabbing a brush, bucket, and bar of soap before stepping into the water with a sigh of relief.
When was the last time I bathed?
I was ashamed to admit I couldn't remember. I rolled around in dirt, stone, mud, grass, blood, poison, acid, lava, and more. My sense of smell wasn't the best, so I couldn't imagine how much I stank.
Is this why everyone in the Lands Between finds me strange?
Abandoning those thoughts, I enjoyed the bath as much as possible, washing away the sweat, blood, and sand.
When I finished, I used Warmth to dry myself and heal any remaining wounds and put on my underwear, approaching a partially broken mirror.
I frowned at the sight of something new, but one that had probably been there for years.
Since when did I have tattoos?
Varying between white and gray, I had a tattoo of a horse's front on my left calf, three swirls joined together on my right calf, a bird spreading its wings on my right shoulder blade, a dragon with its tail curled past an infinity symbol on my left shoulder blade, and finally, a tree of life in the center of my back.
I don't hate them, but I wish I knew the story behind them. I couldn't say the same about my face; the man with the long red hair and beard bothered me.
The image of another person flashed through my mind, so quickly I couldn't make it out, but I felt the urge to cut my hair immediately.
I rummaged through my bag for a dagger, trimming my beard and mustache and shortening my hair.
I smiled with satisfaction at the result and donned the combined Northwarder and Leonine Mage set, equipping my rings, chime, staff, sword, and shield before leaving the room.
I squinted at the change in lighting, but as I walked through the corridors of Redmane Castle, I couldn't help but smile at the sounds of noise in the distance.
Shouts and laughter drifted from the main plaza, and as I turned the corner and passed through an archway, I spotted festivalgoers eating and drinking in celebration.
It was as if yesterday's earthquakes hadn't happened, and no one was willing to investigate after the exhaustion caused by the festival.
Long tables were lined up, with crates and barrels serving as seats. The large kegs of beer were opened and the drinks were distributed in mugs, while the small amount of food that hadn't rotted was served on plates.
Most of those present chatted, drank, and ate, except for Blaidd, who remained with his arms crossed, resting against a wall while the half-naked woman balanced on a stack of boxes tried to pat his head.
"GGGRRR!" Blaidd bared his fangs, making the clearly drunk woman's hand recoil. Soon, his face returned to normal as if nothing had happened.
"GGGRRR!"
Only for the woman to try to touch his head again, and the process repeated.
"GGGRRR!"
And again…
"GGGRRR!"
And again…
"GGGRRR!"
And again.
I walked away before the half-wolf noticed my laughter and looked for Jerren, finding him atop the wall after asking the Tarnished.
The old man was in his usual spot, surveying the desert with Godwyn at his side. Near them both, several crates and barrels overflowing with weapons and armor.
I recognized their appearance, my stolen equipment, now a prize, soon to be returned to me.
"Drummond, Jerren."
They both turned; Jerren gave a polite nod, but Godwyn had a completely different reaction.
"HOLY SHIT!"
The demigod raised his great axe and delivered a swift blow, which I barely had time to parry with my shield.
"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! WHAT IS GOING ON IN YOUR EMPTY HEAD?"
The possessed armor leaned forward, and if he'd been able, I imagine he would have looked confused and disbelieving.
His armored hand gripping my chin and moving my head from side to side did little to lessen the anger I felt.
"Alden, is that really you?"
I took a deep breath before I threw him off the walls and slowly lowered his hand.
"Yes, it's me. Have you calmed down now?"
"W-what happened to you?! To your beard and hair?! Did someone rip them off while you were sleeping?!"
"Nothing like that. My old appearance bothered me, so I altered it slightly."
"Well, you better grow it all back, because I've lost all respect for you."
"That's an exaggeration."
"Of course not, you had a respectable beard and hairstyle! They complemented your wise appearance! You went from Alden, the powerful sorcerer, to Al, the man who shoots magic!"
"Please, it was just a beard, nothing important. Jerren agrees with me, doesn't he?"
The old soldier stared at me for a few seconds before looking away and stroking his long gray beard.
"Forgive me, but I'm proud of my facial hair. I've grown it carefully since I was young. Now it's part of my image, I can't see myself without it."
"See, he hated what you did!"
"I never said that!"
"Listen, can I please receive my prize and move on to the next step of my journey?!"
This was an argument I wasn't going to win, so I changed the subject as quickly as possible.
Jerren nodded, and I made myself comfortable, emptying the boxes and barrels, storing everything in my bottomless bag.
I smiled broadly as I retrieved much of my arsenal: weapons, armor, and shields, from the most basic to the rarest, enchanted, and enhanced.
I almost wanted to forget all the suffering I'd endured so far in recovering what was mine.
However, there were more interesting matters at the moment.
"How is Radahn?"
"Still sleeping with his horse refusing to leave his side. I can never thank you enough for healing him, but now that my duty is fulfilled, I will gather the few remaining sane Redmanes and leave Caelid. Lady Rennala has returned and currently resides in her mansion, correct? I believe seeing her son safe and sound will warm her wounded heart. However, I have a question unrelated to the current matter. Would you mind explaining the reason behind your disappearance?"
"Hm... You may not believe me, but I believe a demigod interfered in our fight. Like Okina, it was in his best interest for Radahn to peris in combat. If my assumptions are correct, Miquella transported me into a trap in a vain attempt to prevent the General's healing."
I saw Godwyn shift slightly, but Jerren spoke before I could question him.
"Miquella, no one has seen him in centuries. His sister's motive for confronting Radahn and destroying Caelid remains unknown, but if what you said is correct, there's a conspiracy behind the plans."
"I recommend you focus on your current task and try to stay away from any matters involving Malenia and Miquella for now. I have other matters to attend to at the moment, but I'll return when everything is finished and use the Grace to take you to the manor."
"I'll be grateful for that. I wish you a safe journey, and until we meet again."
We said goodbye to Jerren and descended the walls. The tension was palpable in the air. I wished we had parted on better terms, but he deserved to be informed, even if it was a half-truth.
On the way, Godwyn removed one of his gauntlets and flicked it over the palm of his other hand, grabbing the Great Rune of Radahn, partially corrupted by the Scarlet Rot.
"Well, the choice is yours. We can escape with the rune without being seen."
The demigod handed me the magical artifact, and I held it in front of my face, studying its details.
"That would be unfair to those who helped us."
"That soft heart of yours will get you killed eventually."
"You'd be surprised how many times that's happened."
"About Miquella..."
"We'll talk about that later, as well as the real reason for my disappearance. There are too many eyes and ears here."
We returned to the plaza where the celebration was taking place, and there I spoke loudly, capturing everyone's attention.
"Attention participants, first I would like to thank you for your help! I would never have been able to cure the General without you! I know you're curious about my disappearance, and I won't lie: a demigod interfered in our conflict! Miquella, wishing Radahn dead, transported me into a trap where I fought bravely to survive and return! As you may know, the whereabouts of some demigods remain hidden, so I ask that you be careful not to fall into their schemes! Finally, forgive me for the deaths some of you have suffered, but as promised, those who wish to be rewarded by Radahn will have their chance when the demigod awakens from his slumber! But for those who wish to follow the path of the Elden Lord, here is your reward!"
I tossed the Great Rune into the center of the table where the newly arrived Tarnished were gathered, where it rolled and landed like a coin.
Everyone watched it intently in silence until the expected happened.
"It is mine!"
The half-naked woman was the first to act, throwing herself onto the table, only to be intercepted by the barbarian, who promptly received a blow to the side of the head with a staff.
Soon, a bar fight broke out between all those coveting the powerful artifact. Blaidd, Alexander, Leonel, and others watched the display with amusement.
We signaled for Blaidd to follow us, and soon we found ourselves outside the Castle, discussing our next move.
"I received an interesting message from Iji: one of the meteors previously held by Radahn struck the Lands Between, opening a hole directly to Nokron. Above Siofra, but below Limgrave, just as I thought."
"So, is there any chance we can get in and out of the city without incident?" Godwyn asked the half-wolf.
"I seriously doubt that. Nokron was known for its magical power and limitless experiments. We'll be dealing with ancient defenses, ancient warriors, and creatures born of who knows what."
"Nothing new, then." I sighed wearily, receiving a burst of laughter in response.
We stopped in our tracks when we found a lone man outside, standing out against the surroundings. His most notable feature was the white eye painted on his chest.
He waved to us and approached with his hands raised.
"Greetings, the redhead must be the Alden I've heard so much about. I have a message for you from Lord Giddeon."
The man then handed me a scroll and stepped back, crushing something in his fist, causing him to disappear in a puff of smoke.
I opened the message, frowning in deep thought. At least this time, I couldn't get angry with the Round Table leader. After all, Rennala had revealed her location before he could find her for us.
However, the message concerned my second request: the location of the medallion's second half, Fort Faroth in the northern highlands.
The only worrying part was the fact that dragons, including the supposedly colossal mother of them all, were resting there.
"Blaidd, do you mind if we take a short detour?"
"As long as it doesn't take too much time."
-XXXXXX-
"So this is the result of yesterday's earthquakes."
We traversed Caelid leisurely this time, collecting golden seeds, maps, a sacred tear, and touching the Graces along the way.
We even passed the ruins of Selia, the City of Sorcery that Radahn spoke of protecting, blocked by a magical gate. (I will visit it in search of artifacts at some point.)
However, we stopped when we saw the level of destruction present.
Massive, wide, and deep fissures divided the ground into several sections, exuding a dense darkness I knew in detail.
The Abyss, humanity's natural darkness in a sea of uncontrolled emotions in its purest form, and its arrival was my fault. My hex didn't disappear, but grew in power until it broke free of its subterranean prison.
I sent Torrent away, and we continued the rest of the way on foot, walking the rough terrain at the edge of the fissures, trying to skirt them.
We were careful not to cut ourselves on the sharp, jagged black crystals, and occasionally, teardrop-shaped beings with two white eyes floated out of the depths and stared at us curiously.
"But what is all this?! The earthquakes, the fissures, the crystals, and this living darkness—where did it come from?! Why?!"
Blaidd asked question after question, baffled by the unknown element. He must possess some trace of divinity, for despite his efforts, I could see tremors running through his body.
Godwyn probably wished to be in a better situation; despite being a living armor, his actions spoke volumes about his nervousness. He walked with hurried steps, away from the edge, refusing to acknowledge the existence of the dark beings watching him.
"Lady Ranni needs to see this. One unknown event is happening after another; perhaps she have a hint of the reason behind it."
I highly doubt it, Blaidd. The less she knows, the better.
However, Godwyn had an idea. He'd seen enough of my spells and miracles to recognize that they tapped into the same power that frightened him.
The journey was slow, but we reached our destination. As soon as we cleared the last crevice, Godwyn grabbed my arm, stopping me from moving forward.
"You know what this is, don't you?"
He whispered, and I nodded. Then he released me and allowed me to continue, taking one last look into the abyss before doing something that resembled a shudder and moving on.
We saw the fort in the distance, but what appeared in our path left us speechless, or at least me. Godwyn and Blaidd didn't seem surprised.
A dragon the size of a fortress, so large I couldn't see its full body. The Ancient Dragon looked like a hatchling compared to the sleeping winged being.
I felt a pang of fear run through me. If this thing woke, I didn't know if we could defeat it. Its size was so great that I doubted the power of my Sunlight Spears, which had slain dragons in the past.
"Surprised, this is Greyoll, the Mother of All Dragons. They say all the dragons that roam the Lands Between are her hatchlings," Godwyn said cheerfully.
"And isn't she a danger to everyone?"
"Not anymore. Greyoll has grown to the point where she can't support her own weight. She can't stand up, much less fly, so she simply incubates her eggs and cares for her young until they're big enough to survive on their own."
I felt a little sorry for the animal, but that didn't change the fact that we had to pass through her to reach the fort.
The Mother of Dragons and her many hatchlings were asleep. Waking them would cause an unnecessary fight. I don't doubt we could win, but it would be cruel to something that hasn't harmed us.
I cast Silence, stilling our footsteps, and Chameleon followed suit, transforming us into three rocks.
Then we slid toward the fort, keeping our distance from the sleeping dragons. Our progress continued unabated until a flutter of wings and large shadows approached.
We stopped immediately, allowing two dragons to land. One was a black dragon with dark feathers on its body, and the other was a sickly pale one with rotting wounds.
My breath stopped, as did our bodies. We tried to act according to our disguise, and although I couldn't see their faces, I knew my companions weren't confident in our chance of victory.
Fortunately, they weren't here to fight; both dragons gave the equivalent of a yawn and lay down, closing their eyes and falling asleep.
We moved immediately, reaching the fort, climbing its stairs and passing through the entrance arch where I dispelled the spell.
"This is the second time I've entered a dragon nest, and the experience is never pleasant."
"I can agree with that. Adula gives us enough trouble already."
"You say that because you haven't seen real true Ancient Dragons."
The interior of the fort was dark and slightly labyrinthine. Nothing a lighting spell couldn't solve, but it had the effect of drawing the attention of giant rats and bats hiding nearby.
We dispatched them easily, but they were nonetheless irritating. We traversed the lower level of the fort, stepping over dry grass, dead earth, and forgotten corpses, climbing a staircase past several wooden support beams.
We reached the upper level of the eerily empty fort, finding only destroyed ruins and what remained of its defenders, now hanged on execution platforms.
The rot must have driven the inhabitants mad, turning them against each other. Putting these dark thoughts aside, we found a chest and inside it the other half of the medallion.
I put it in my bag, satisfied with the end of this search, and after a quick exploration, we found an eye-shaped seal with a rune-shaped wound.
Godwyn was eager to obtain it, and I had no reason to protest, so I let him keep the artifact, attaching it to his armor.
With our objective accomplished, we left the fort, but a peculiar detail piqued our curiosity.
"We're not alone," Blaidd commented seriously, his hand reaching for his sword.
There were dark footprints on the steps and in front of the entrance arch, with traces of a green and yellow slime slowly eroding the stone, emanating a horrible smell.
They didn't enter the fort, concentrating in a pool before the entrance, and there were no returning footprints.
We tried to find their source, but the rotten earth made our search difficult. That didn't stop me from observing the sleeping dragons and their large nest with watchful eyes and a spell at the ready.
"We're not the only ones wandering around looking for items, but it's awfully convenient that someone stopped and waited before disappearing, isn't it?" Godwyn spoke next, swinging his axe.
"Assassins, spies, monsters, opportunistic Tainished. The options are many, I suggest we leave before we fall into a trap. Or worse, before the dragons awaken."
We agreed and headed toward the Grace near the fort, transporting us to Limgrave.
OMAKE / ALTERNATE SCENE: An Undead Arrives on Terra PART 2
It didn't take a keen observer to know that these people were not accustomed to kindness, much less to foreigners.
The village chief, now identified as Duroch, acted as my translator, his presence serving to calm the spirits of his people.
I requested that the wounded be gathered in one place. This was arranged with great suspicion.
Meanwhile, I took the opportunity to ask my questions and was watched the same way the inhabitants of the Lands Between watched me when I arrived, as if I'd been living under a rock my entire life.
Kazdel was a nation with diverse biomes, mostly deserts, and lay between the nations of Syracuse, Ursus, and Yan, which had taken much of its territory through wars over the years.
I was only hearing one side of the story, so I left room for doubt, but according to Duroch, the Sarkaz have suffered absurd prejudice from all other races on Terra since time immemorial, with the word "Devil" serving as a racial slur against them.
There were legends that the Sarkaz were the true masters of the world and that the other races were nothing more than invaders from the heavens, starting a war that destroyed their people's great empire.
Afterward, the nation never recovered, a people divided among various warlords, each with a different idea of what Kazdel should be. Supposedly, there was a council of nobles and a king who should unify and rule these lands, but this was nothing more than a joke to the common people.
It was a political hell full of conspiracies and backstabbing, and every time someone came close to unifying Kazdel and rebuilding the capital—which, by the way, had been destroyed more than two thousand times—something happened to ruin all the progress made.
With lucrative regions taken over by enemy kingdoms, prejudice, constant civil war, and incompetent government, Kazdel became a poor land where the people suffered. Some even tore off their own horns and left in search of a better life in other nations.
That was the general information, a mix of common knowledge and legends. If I wanted more details, I would need to seek them out in a city.
Beyond that, I learned that it was the year 500. That people used gold, silver, and other precious metals and stones as currency. (Surprisingly, looting the treasure room in Drangleic Castle proved useful.)
Duroch watched me curiously as I stood in the center of wounded villagers and raised my chime. Everyone saw me with a mixture of fear, anger, distrust, and apprehension.
I believe my guide was about to question me, but he fell silent, along with everyone else, when he saw me cast Soothing Sunlight and Bountiful Sunlight.
Two circles, one orange and the other gold, expanded across the ground, filled with sigils and ancient language, enveloping the wounded in their healing power.
The result was immediate: bleeding stopped, wounds healed, bones returned to their original shape and mended. When it was all over, it was as if the attack had never happened.
Unfortunately, I couldn't do anything about the dead, so I left the dumbfounded crowd behind and set about repairing the damage to the homes.
I cast Repair repeatedly, and fragments of rock and wood reassembled, returning to their original positions, walls and roofs connected again, tiles clicked into place, and soon the village was as good as new.
"Now, do you mind telling me the reason behind the attack on your village?"
Duroch didn't answer, just opened and closed his mouth, making awkward noises. The locals were no better, staring at me as if I were some kind of idol.
"I don't understand, have you never seen magic and miracles? I faced three Sarkaz pyromancers, so why are you so surprised?"
I got no answer, so I sat down on a rock, waiting for everyone to calm down. Moments later, I finally had my question answered, though now everyone treated me with more reverence, much to my discomfort.
The mercenaries served a local warlord of no renown, just one of many. The village refused his authority, and as punishment, they attacked, planning to enslave the population.
I had saved them from this fate, but that didn't apply to their other victims. I gritted my teeth, feeling my fury burn. Castle Morne loomed in my mind, and this time I wouldn't be so merciful.
After further questioning, I learned that the warlord's stronghold was a three-day journey north.
My intentions must have been obvious, for the village chief tried futilely to dissuade me. He then offered me water and food for the journey, which I refused, as they needed it more than I did.
Ignoring their protests, I left the village and called Torrent. The surprised shouts of the villagers faded into the distance as I rode toward the stronghold.
END OF CHAPTER