The next day,
Eldermoor buzzed with excitement. The streets, always bustling, seemed even more crowded today, a river of people flowing in and out of shops.
Big men and women, their faces and arms adorned with scars, seemed to dominate the streets.
After all, with the Forest practically on the city's doorstep, many adventurers, sellswords, and hopefuls flocked here, eager to battle the beasts within.
Mana Crystals and Beast Cores were incredibly rare and precious. They were used for enchanting items, as vital ingredients in potions and alchemy, and were used as currency as well.
Arthur navigated the jungle of people with practiced ease, twisting and turning, his eyes darting left and right, taking in the sights and sounds. He'd just wanted to come out for a walk, to clear his head and relax for a bit before heading back home to the grueling practice regimen he'd set for himself.
With the special tournament for the Imperial Fate Academy spots looming just a month away, Everglen Academy had, surprisingly, given the top students, including him, leave to train independently if they wished.
Eventually, he came to a stop, his gaze drawn upwards to large, elegantly carved letters adorning a giant, decorated plaque:
"Evershade Treasure House."
To call this establishment a mere "house" was an understatement. It was a massive, imposing building, at least four stories high, its stone facade intricately carved with images of mythical beasts and legendary heroes. It towered over every other structure in the vicinity.
A steady stream of adventurers, merchants, and even a few richly dressed nobles filed in and out of its grand, arched entrance.
Curiosity bubbled up within Arthur. He found himself walking towards the entrance, drawn by an almost magnetic pull.
As he stepped through the massive, polished wooden doors, he was immediately greeted by a dazzling array of bright, white lights that illuminated the entire expansive ground floor.
The air hummed with a faint, almost imperceptible thrum of magical energy.
All around the vast floor, he could see countless items displayed.
Swords that shimmered with an inner light, axes etched with glowing runes, bows crafted from rare, dark woods, and staffs topped with fist-sized gemstones.
Some were adorned with intricate carvings, gold and silver embossings glinting under the bright lights, while others possessed a stark, unadorned simplicity.
All of the items were protected behind thick, enchanted glass panes, each one shining like a star in its own right. Price tags, written in elegant script on small vellum cards, were displayed beside each item. Arthur's eyes widened as he took in the numbers – figures that could buy a small estate, or fund an entire mercenary company for months.
"Who let this kid in?" A middle-aged man with a rough, gravelly voice and a heavily scarred face grunted as he shouldered past Arthur, bumping him slightly. The man reeked of stale ale and old leather. Arthur, however, paid him no mind.
His eyes glowed with an almost boyish excitement as he looked around the weapons heaven he had inadvertently entered.
He had lost his own sword somehow in the cave, a mystery that still gnawed at him. The short sword he had… acquired… from the Valemarch students felt clumsy and inadequate in his hand.
He needed a proper weapon, especially with the tournament approaching.
He drifted from display case to display case, his gaze lingering on longswords and arming swords. A beautiful blade with a sapphire embedded in its pommel caught his eye – 'Frostbrand, whispers of winter in every swing, 3,000 Gold Solars.' He whistled under his breath.
Another, a sleek black sword that seemed to drink the light – 'Shadowfang, for those who walk unseen, 4,500 Gold Solars.' His meager savings wouldn't even cover the scabbard for one of these.
He spent a good hour just looking, dreaming, his initial excitement slowly giving way to a familiar sense of frustration. Everything here was far, far beyond his budget.
"Can I help you, young man?" A smooth, slightly condescending voice interrupted him.
Arthur turned to see a impeccably dressed assistant, a man with slicked-back hair and a disdainful curl to his lip, looking him up and down as if he were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
"Or are you perhaps… lost?" the assistant continued, his tone implying Arthur clearly didn't belong. "These are high-grade magical armaments. Very expensive. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable browsing the… simpler wares?"
Arthur felt a flush creep up his neck. "I was just looking."
The assistant's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. However, we do have a selection of standard, non-magical swords over there." He gestured vaguely with a wave of his hand towards a dimly lit corner of the vast hall, where several large, unassuming wooden bins were placed. "For the more… budget-conscious adventurer."
Arthur bit back a retort. He knew he looked out of place. Swallowing his pride, he nodded curtly and walked towards the corner.
The bins were filled with an assortment of swords – mostly plain, steel longswords, short swords, and a few daggers. They were well-made enough, serviceable, but utterly unremarkable compared to the treasures in the glass cases. Most looked used, bearing the nicks and scratches of previous owners.
He began to sift through them, picking up one after another, testing their weight and balance. They felt dead in his hands, just lumps of metal.
Disappointment settled heavily on him. Maybe he'd have to make do with the stolen short sword for the tournament after all.
He reached into one of the deeper bins, his fingers brushing against a simple leather-wrapped hilt. He pulled it out. It was a longsword, plain and unadorned, the steel a dull, unremarkable grey. There were no runes, no gemstones, no fancy scrollwork. It looked like a hundred other swords he'd seen.
But the moment his fingers closed around the hilt, a strange, warm feeling spread up his arm. It wasn't a magical thrum like the enchanted weapons gave off; this was different, a subtle resonance, a feeling of… rightness. The sword felt light in his hand, perfectly balanced, an extension of his own arm.
He gave it a tentative swing. It moved with an effortless grace that belied its plain appearance. There was something about this sword, something special.
He turned it over, examining the blade more closely. There were no maker's marks, no distinguishing features at all, save for a faint, almost imperceptible pattern in the grain of the steel itself, like watered silk, visible only when the light caught it just right.
"Find anything to your liking in the… bargain bin?" The condescending assistant had sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips.
Arthur ignored him, his attention focused on the sword. "How much for this one?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
The assistant glanced at the plain sword with a bored expression. "That old thing? Standard steel, nothing special. Let's say… five silver pieces. And that's being generous, boy."
Five silver pieces. He pulled out the green shard, about the size of his thumbnail.
"Would you take this in trade?"
The assistant's eyes, which had been glazed with boredom, suddenly sharpened, a flicker of avarice appearing. He took the shard, holding it up to the light. "A mana crystal… decent purity for its size. Where did a boy like you get this?"
"Found it," Arthur said noncommittally. "Is it enough for the sword?"
He then met the assistant's gaze, his own surprisingly firm. "This crystal is much more valuable than that. I'll take the sword and fifty silver pieces for it."
The assistant almost choked, his eyes widening in disbelief before narrowing shrewdly. "Fifty silvers? Boy, you must be dreaming! This is a decent shard, yes, but it's not a king's ransom. The sword and… ten silvers. That's more than fair for a piece this size."
Arthur shook his head, not backing down. He knew the approximate value of mana crystals, even small ones. "This shard alone is worth at least that much, probably more to the right alchemist. The sword is five silvers. I'm being generous. Forty silvers and the sword."
"Fifteen silvers and the sword! You're robbing me blind, boy!" the assistant huffed, though the greedy light in his eyes hadn't dimmed. He clearly wanted the crystal.
"Thirty-five silvers, and the sword. That's my final offer," Arthur stated, preparing to put the crystal away. He needed the sword, but he wasn't going to be cheated.
The assistant chewed his lip for a moment, doing a quick mental calculation. He glanced at the crystal again, then at Arthur's determined face. "Fine, fine! Thirty silvers and the sword. But you drive a hard bargain, kid, I'll give you that."
Arthur allowed a small, satisfied smile. He got the plain longsword and thirty silver coins clinking into his pouch in exchange for the mana crystal shard.
The assistant grumbled a bit as he completed the transaction, but Arthur could tell the man still felt he'd come out ahead. Arthur didn't care. He had the sword, and a decent amount of coin besides.
He left the Evershade Treasure House, the new sword now strapped to his belt, its weight feeling strangely comforting. The silver coins jingled in his pocket. He felt a sense of satisfaction.
As he stepped back out into the bustling street, a faint, almost ethereal shimmer of light blue flickered at the very edge of his vision, to his left. He blinked, turning his head. It was gone.
Intrigued, and with a strange sense of being drawn, he decided to follow it. The alley was quieter than the main street, lined with smaller, less ostentatious shops. The blue shimmer appeared once more, hovering for a second near the doorway of a tiny, cluttered-looking store filled with an eclectic mix of small trinkets, old scrolls, and curious-looking artifacts.
He pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling above him. The interior was dimly lit and smelled of dust, old parchment, and strange herbs.
He took a few steps inside, his eyes adjusting to the gloom.
"Why are you following me?"
The voice was cool, crisp, and held an edge of ice. It came from the shadows at the back of the shop.
Arthur froze. He knew that voice, even though he'd only heard it speak briefly at the reward ceremony.
A figure stepped out from between two tall shelves laden with dusty curios. Ice-blue hair cascaded to her waist, and sapphire eyes, sharp and intelligent, fixed on him with an unnerving intensity.
The Ice Queen, Seraphina.