Fieri

Reis knew that Fieri was not a town that hung on everyones’ lips, but he was never prepared to expect it to be a dead town. The stark contrast of the austere town from the merry countryside and meadows made Sabre uneasy. Reis dismounted and held the reins of his horse. He took his sword and fastened the sword-belt around his hips. After making sure that he has fastened every flap to the leather pouches on his waist belt securely, Reis pulled Sabre on his reins and entered through the gates, nodding to the pair of guards.

The houses that lined the streets were mostly shabby, but habitable. A few curious pair of eyes stared at the knight as he made his to the centre of the town. Folks made way as Reis guided Sabre through the town on foot. The clop of shod hooves on the dusty cobble street echoed along the corridors and alleys around them.

The only worthy value or what was left of it was that a border town, and it lie right in the middle of the Travellers’ Road that forked out to the heart of the two other countries bordering The Kingdom. Over to the east and about a week’s ride are the dense woodlands where the woodland elves had built their illustrious but illusive kingdom upon. Reis has heard of the Levianna before, but had yet to gaze upon her wondrous majesty. To the far north lies the Sovereign City-State of Nadaran, an arcane country small by span – slightly smaller than The Kingdom’s capital White City, but equally wondrous especially with the infamous Magi Academy. Nadaran stood unchallenged as hostile forces would think twice about invading a city-state that has mages, wizards, sorcerers, and other magic users as her populace. Reis will be heading there after resting in Fieri.

Suddenly, Reis halted – he sensed the presence of magic within the vicinity. Being alone on the errant had almost made him regard magic as a strange thing.

“Nadaran is due north. I’m sure a mage or two stops by now and then,” he told himself.

It was nearing sundown and folks began to return to their homes. Street lanterns were lit, and Reis saw a few scantily-clad ladies of the night now and then at street corners. The sight of a stranger that could be a potential customer excited them; especially the tall, powerfully-built, and most importantly young stranger that had just made his way through town. Realizing that his stomach is growling, Reis headed for a particularly large tavern. He was keen on having hot food and a frothy pint or two after been on trail ration of beef jerky, hard cheese, and even harder bread. He also longed for a proper long soak in a hot bath and soft, thick mattress to lie on a night or two.

The sign was once painted but now had badly faded. Reis could make out the words, ‘The Rumbling Din’ on it. He went to the side and an attendant approached him. Reis handed the reins of his horse to the middle-aged man, who took it akin to receiving the Medal of Valour.

“Please have him watered and fed. And could you groom him and have him picked as well?” Reis asked the man.
“Yes, milord. Only the best for your great beast,” he replied. Reis took a quick glance at his large, padded saddlebags, thinking of its precious content – his mithril plate armour suit. “Do you have a place of safekeeping?” Reis asked.

The man nodded. He led Sabre into the stable and into a stall. The stable has another horse in it, and the chestnut mare was dozing restfully, well taken care of. The floor was lined with fresh hay, and two wooden feeders contained water, and a mix of oats, barley, and hay respectively in the individual stalls. Under his supervision, the attendant began to remove Reis’ saddlebags and place it in front of him. The attendant removed the saddle and the saddlecloth and placed it with care in front of Reis as well. After securely closing the stall doors, the attendant carried Reis’ belonging to the back of the stable where Reis followed. The attendant produced a key from a key ring attached to his belt and pointed to several large wooden chests lining the wall. He picked a key, and opened an empty chest. Quickly, he placed Reis’ saddlebags in them.

“Your bags are safe in here, milord. I shall care on your saddle after I’ll tend to your horse,” he said. Reis nodded. He fished in his coin purse for a gold piece and two silver pieces, and handed them to the attendant who received them with utmost delight. Passing Sabre’s stall, Reis brushed the nose of his horse, and headed out.

The Rumbling Din was in fact, rumbling. The contrast from the world outside baffled Reis as seemingly all of the townsfolk converged in the large, double-storey tavern. Music and all sort of merriment resounded and people chatted, laughed, and brawled. The aroma of freshly cooked hot meals wafted in the air, and Reis made his way through the crowd to a table and sat. Moments later, an attractive, buxom young barmaid came to him and ceremoniously bent from her hips to Reis’ face level, offering a generous view of her generous bosom.

“Welcome to The Rumbling Din, sir. What would you have?” she asked melodiously. Reis pried his eyes from her chest and met her blazing brown eyes, careful not to have his face redden.

“Erm..yeah. Err..I’m quite famished, so I would really like to have some hot food, please. Your recommendations. And a pint of your best ale,” Reis told her.

“Most certaintly, sir. I’ll get on it right away,” the girl smiled and winked at him. She then left and headed for the kitchen to place the order.

Reis studied the tavern, and the people in it. All manner of assorted people lounged in the rowdy tavern. Barmaids darted around delivering food and drink, and musicians played their instruments at a corner of the tavern. Reis could spot a few people of the other races too – a trio of dwarven warriors by the look of their arms and armour ate and drank heartily at a table; and a duo of a gnome – and what Reis has thought to be a young girl turned out to be an elf after he saw her pointy ears – at another table. She sat with her back facing Reis, and spoke with the gnome in hushed tones by the look of it. At another corner of the tavern, Reis almost missed the figure of a cloaked man, or humanoid, who sat at a small table. He had the hood of his cloak on, concealing his face in shadow. Reis sensed that he was not quite human, and was assured so as he saw his silvery eyes – akin to the elves – faintly glowed. The elf sat against the wall, puffing faint wisps of smoke from his long pipe.

The barmaid reappeared and slightly startled Reis. She smiled and placed a tray on the table. She took a deep bowl of steaming stew, a platter of assorted spiced bread and cheeses, and a pewter pint of frothy ale from the tray and placed them in front of Reis.

“I’ll have more coming if you want to,” she told him. Reis smiled and nodded at her. After the barmaid had left, Reis took the pint and relished the cold touch it gave, and wondered how they have chilled the ale so. After a long gulp of the refreshing ale, Reis spooned the beef stew. He broke some bread, spread some cheese on it, and ate with utmost pleasure of not having to hunt for his food, nor chew on the trail rations. As he was polishing off the last morsels from his beef stew, the barmaid came to his table with a tray, and from it she placed a steaming plate of sliced roast lamb that swam in thick gravy in front of him, trading it with his empty stew bowl.

“I hope there’s still room in your belly, sir. I have asked this to be made especially for you,” she told him. Reis laughed softly.
“Well of course, miss. You have my utmost thanks, my dear,” Reis told her.

She also had refilled his pint from a pewter flask on the tray. The aroma of the dish was overwhelming, and Reis ate with renewed vigour. Soon, he sat there on the table with his stomach happily filled. The barmaid came to him and offered another refill. Reis politely declined.

“I’m too full up, miss. The food was exellent,” Reis told her. She flashed her captivating smile again and chided, “Well, of course, kind sir. You did request me to make the recommendations on your indulgence.”
“Most true. And you really know how to indulge a man,” Reis said
“It’s my job, sir. After all, customers’ satisfaction is my aim,”
“Let me see; excellent food, excellent ale, excellent service, yes. I must say that I’m quite satisfied,” Reis was being snide. The barmaid shifted her weight on one hip, enjoying it.
“Quite, sir?” she asked. “Is there something amiss?”
“Well, I haven’t had the pleasure of an excellent company, have I?” Reis shifted in his seat, reclining back. “I’ve been travelling alone and I intent to stay a couple of nights in this town. I missed the companionship, and even the idle chatter. It would and most certainly would be my pleasure to have a companion, and it would be my very good honour if I could have you to accompany me,” Reis said to her.


* * * *

Reis woke up with a fresh start on the plush bed. Rianna lay asleep still in his arm, her head on his chest. Her brunette hair fanned on his chest, and she was smiling even when she slept, stirring gently to his touch. After having his dinner last night, Reis went to the barkeeper and paid for the food, and arranged for his lodging. The inn was the second floor of The Rumbling Din, and though it was quite spartan, the inn was comfortable enough for weary travellers to lay their tired backs on something other than the hard ground. Reis took a long hot bath, and soon welcomed the warm, soft bed and the warm, soft body when the barmaid had joined him in it.

Reis had planned to spend the day preparing his gears to continue the journey tomorrow. He would need to restock his rations for the ride to Nadaran, and other necessary amendments. He was supposed to be a knight errant, and he needed to prove himself worthy to return to his brethren knights. His path to become a paladin is hard, but his will and determination was even harder. But, for now, something else was also hard, and Reis pulled back the covers over them.

Arrival.

Daylight broke upon the town of Fieri as he entered its gates. Though he did suppose his appearance to be rather suspicious, the guard said nothing and allowed him to pass through, apparently uncaring. It was true then, he supposed, about Fieri being a town open to all, without bias or discrimination. Not surprising all in all, considering that its location was situated on the borderlines of three countries.

Though these three countries were currently at peace, with no apparent signs of war brewing, their citizens clearly had different ideas. As he walked past the pubs and taverns that had closed with the first approaching signs of the morn, he saw the remnants of the previous nights’ brawls being tossed discourteously out into the street, nursing cuts and bruises that they would be sporting for the next few days before they ventured forth into such places again. A few were too drunk to even walk, and simply collapsed unconscious on the street.

The town was not prosperous, having no trade that it could prosper on. The lands it claimed were dry and barren, mountainous, unsuitable for crops. Of livestock they had barely any to boast of, for no livestock would be able to live long without even fresh grass to feed on. Even trade was not a viable option, as the crowd that passed through more likely than not did not care to spend their gold on anything more than a bed for the night and a frothy pint or two.

The town simply existed as a resting stop for weary travelers, with a multitude of taverns and inns scattered in it. The few residences that still remained there contained mostly weathered old folk, tired and uncaring. The younger ones had long left the town to seek their fortunes elsewhere.

Though it was morning, the town still seemed quiet, devoid of the bustling noises usually heard in a town as the townsfolk rose for the business of the day. He continued his way along the streets, wondering amusedly what the place was like during the night, as he listened to the muffled sound of his own footsteps treading the dusty ground.

Feeling somewhat vulnerable, being in an area devoid of people in broad daylight, he hastened his steps until he reached an old house near the center of the town. The place looked abandoned and dilapidated, one of the many older buildings in town that were uncared for and falling to ruin.

It did not seem likely that there was anyone to be found within its decaying walls, yet he swung himself over the rotten wooden fence and walked up the moss-covered stone pathway to the building.

A frayed and tattered rag that may once have been a lace curtain fluttered gently in the only window not boarded up, moved by a breeze that was not there. He smiled a little to himself as he went up to a small door set into the side of the structure, and tapped its dust-coated surface lightly with one knuckle.

The door opened a fraction of an inch, a long, hooked nose poking out from the darkness within. A pair of small, glittering, beady eyes peered up at him.

“Kraeven,” he said, pulling back the hood of his cloak to reveal his face.

“Morohtar,” the gravelly voice of the goblin greeted him, and the door swung open more fully to let him in.

Guidance.

Bellio, 7th day of the Nara, year of the 21st Water Lion
Levianna’s Grove
Note Reference Index: A0001-A01-A0001

The day seemed as though it would go on forever. During Nara, the days are longer and the nights are shorter, allowing more time to move around before the need to find shelter from the dangers of the dark; an advantage for normal travellers, but posed no difference for nightwalkers—or those that can see in low light like Dashiel. Besides, he was accustomed to having a good grasp of his surroundings, and understanding the things he encounters to navigate through the unknown.

“In this sort of weather, Levianna’s Grove would thrive”, noted the small sized creature. “The sun elves are probably ecstatic with their harvest festival”, he remarked further. These thoughts about the customs and traditions of other creatures were normal for Dashiel. He had familiarized himself with many different cultures, always linking what he saw to what he knew. The travelling gnome had always loved to take long breaks to observe and think, though at the moment, there was no time for gallivanting around. That could wait.

He was on a mission to travel north as soon as possible to further his research. Such is the sacrifice of a scholar, for it seemed that wisdom never confined itself to one static place. Dashiel knew that he needed to move as soon as the signs were clear—and the tumbling of a clumsy stranger over his head had brought them quite plainly.

“Damn it child! Watch where you’re going,” said the angered gnome, now on the mud-spattered floor of the grove. He picked himself up and examined his assailant closer. She had a sharp twist at the edge of her ears and had eyes with a sharp and silvery glaze. But other than that, she was human-like in all of her other features. “A half-elf girl in her adolescent years”, the gnome decided. She was tall, like most half-elves are, and had a cocoa shaded complexion indicative of a wood-elven ancestry. “This one?” wondered the stocky traveller on this new arrival.

Now off the ground as well, the lass looked remorseful but seemed unsurprised. It was probably indicative of a natural behaviour that she seems familiar with. She apologised and introduced herself as “Shierra, from the Levianna Clan, on a—pilgrimage of sorts”, being careful at disclosing her secret elven tribe rituals. Elves were very proud of their culture and are reluctant to share them with ‘lesser beings’. “Not that I wouldn’t know about them already”, thought Dashiel.

The half-elf went on about how she was lost and was not paying attention to what she was doing. Dashiel just nodded and acknowledged with every statement she made with a ‘hrmm’ or an ‘ah’. It was quite obvious that she was also inexperienced with her surroundings as she was on the wrong path from where travellers usually followed.

The gnome knew that this moment was pivotal. She was the one he was supposed to meet as a companion to the journey up north. He introduced himself, now in a more calmly and composed manner, careful in sounding helpful and inviting, “I am Dashiel, a scholar gnome. I am headed for the tavern in the town of Fieri.” She quickly squealed, noting the coincidence on location. A location that the gnome knew that was where she was headed. “I’ll be happy to provide guidance”, he said, conscious that it meant much more than she ever expected, “I’ll bring you to Fieri.”

Shierra had a satisfied look on her face, as though she had a good feeling about the start of her journey. And with that, they moved west, toward the direction of the nearby town, with the gnome aware that a set of eyes were observing them from behind.

Journey.

It had been a few days since she had begun her journey, and she was horrified to discover after much weary travel that she had no sense of direction whatsoever.

She had never been far from her village before, where all was safe and familiar. The world outside, as she had thought it, had seemed vast and incomprehensible. Still, she had thought she would be able to get along fine when the time came, especially with the map she had brought with her.

Alas, it was not so. The map, her supposed token of survival, had failed her. She simply could not fathom how the lines and figures on the inconveniently large piece of parchment translated to the vast forest around her, and of course it did not help that she could not differentiate east from west and north from south.

It also did not help that there were no paths or roads to follow, not for some miles ahead. It was well known throughout the lands that the forests of Levianna guarded their secrets well – no outsider could find their way to the hidden villages in the forest depths without the guidance and blessing of the elves.

But, Shierra contemplated, not without a sense of irony as she passed by the same ancient tree for the twelfth time, she was not trying to get into the villages, but to get out!

She paused for awhile, leaning a little against her staff and resting her hand upon the tree. Despite its apparent age, the tree was vibrantly alive; she could feel its life pulse, sense it growing, thriving. Other than that, nothing.

Not for the first time, and not for the last, she cursed the human blood within her veins. She did not have the full ability of most wood elves, and as such could not even sense her location within the forest. It was humiliating and most frustrating for a wood elf to be lost in a forest, moreover her own homeland, and not be able to seek help from anyone.

She glanced at the map again. Her destination was the Sovereign City-State of Nadaran, where she was to complete the first stage of her pilgrimage, the rite of passage among wood elves entering adulthood which required them to journey to various elven communities across Thorreon to pay their respects to the elders. Though she could not tell how many days’ journey it would be until she reached Nadaran, she could tell that it would still be a long time before she made it there, especially considering her current pace.

Her glance fell on Fieri, apparently a township of sorts, opportunely situated on the borders of three countries, including Levianna and Nadaran. It would be a convenient place for her to rest before continuing her journey, perhaps even gather information. But she knew, deep down, that the true reason for her wanting to see the town was neither of these that she admitted.

Tucking the useless bit of parchment back into her robes, her gaze fell upon her staff’s orb, and she glared at it suspiciously. The crystal sphere, locked in place by the ornate wood carvings that wrapped around it, glowed softly in the dim light of the forest. She wondered what it meant, that glow.

She remembered that it had shimmered slightly when she first held the staff, bequeathed by her mother during the ceremony of departure. The staff, her mother had told her, once belonged to her human father. Of course this belonged to a human, she had thought then, as she handled the staff. It was made from good wood, strong wood. But that was all it was – just wood.

The other journeying elves, with their simple staffs of living branches willingly given by the ancient trees of the Levianna forests, had glanced at her ornate instrument with disdain. She had felt shame then, and for a brief moment wished she could discard her staff. Another moment saw her grip around it tighten, and her resolve strengthen with it. An inexplicable sense of belonging overtook her, and she somehow knew then that this staff was meant for her, and that she was meant to wield it, whatever anyone else in the village thought of it. A quick look at her mother’s face showed that she too, knew and felt the same.

The orb on the staff, she had assumed, was just an ornament. But as she had entered the forests and it glowed with a distinct magical aura, she knew that there was more to it than she could fathom. Whatever it was, she would find the answer in Nadaran.

It was just then, that she realized that her feet had continued to move as she had pondered the mysteries of her staff, without really paying attention to where they were taking her. It was also just then that she stumbled over a small figure at her feet, and smashed painfully into the ground.

Sabre

Sabre snorted, and shied slightly. The big black charger might be well-trained, but he’s still, essentially, a horse. Obviously the beast wanted a rest after a series of walking, and the occasional trot trough the pleasant countryside since dawn. Reis slacked off his grasp on the reins, and let the horse steer off the hard-packed dirt path and onto the grass, bringing them to a nearby grove.

Reis slid down from the saddle and welcomed the slightly warm sensation of blood properly coursing through his legs. It’s nearing sundown and a rest might do them good. Reis retrieved his leather backpack fastened to the saddle as well as his broadsword and placed them under a shady tree. He then unfastened the saddlebags, and also a leather sack containing his suit of mithril armour and placed them all in a pile under the tree. After having retrieved his possessions, Reis began loosening the leather straps and brass braces of the saddle, and removed it from the great beast’s haunch. Normally, the young knight has seen the stable boys using stools and even ladders to tend to this particularly taller breed of warhorses from the proud fleet of chargers of the Kingdom; however, in Reis’ case he was glad for the height he has to be able to utilize the beast in the field. Free of the saddle, Sabre went on with his usual mischief. The horse turned its great big head and pulled off the saddlecloth on its back with its teeth.

“Next time take the saddle off yourself,” Reis said to the horse, stroking its proud mane.

Being the youngest of the family of chargers at the Royal Stable, Sabre has a mischievous albeit playful attitude that Reis has grew fond of. He really loved the horse as they grew up mostly together. Reis saw Sabre being born when the young knight was in his youth, and saw through the training the horse went through when it is old enough to be ridden. Reis would venture into the stables to groom the majestic black velvety horse. The horse acknowledged its rider as well, and it is proud to serve the knight with its life.

Reis let the horse nibble on the lush green grasses. He heard a spring somewhere trickling in the wooded part of the meadow, and he intended to water his horse and refilled his waterskins there. Looking around in a panoramic horizon, Reis could tell that he was at the meadows where it was the onset of the great plains that lie ahead. The last civilisation he encountered was the countryside and the occasional farms as he made his way up north from the White City. That was last week. Now, he was on the Traveller’s Roadway far from hospitalities. Reis sat under the shady tree and retrieved a tool kit from his backpack. He chose a pair of tweezers, and after removing the leather riding glove from his right hand, Reis began to remove the remaining few wooden splinters embedded in his right palm. Courtesy of a fairly large Felbear, Reis’ wooden spear has killed the beast in the skirmish, but had shattered in the process. Caught relatively unaware while he was resting in a grove, Reis had barely enough time to properly defend himself when the Felbear had attacked.

Unarmed, Reis has no choice but to run to a patch of woods for cover, with the bear snapping at his heels. Reis had almost been swiped in two if it had not been for the help of his charger. The horse had sensed the bear via its rancid scent, and had seen the bear on a lunging charge for its rider. Galloping hard, the horse thundered towards the bear and had crashed into it moments before the Felbear could swipe at Reis with its vicious claws. With its back at Reis, giving him cover Sabre whinnied loudly, snapping its jaws and bared its teeth. The bear was momentarily held at bay as Sabre rose on its hind legs and flailed its front legs menacingly. With the spare moment of time Reis grabbed the wooden spear from its holder near the seat of the saddle with one precise grasp, he then slapped the horse’s hind making the mount retreat. The bear stood to its full height on its hind legs and roared loudly. Undeterred, Reis prayed the Light for strength and dexterity to guide his arm, and it seemed that the Light has answered, as for a heartbeat later, Reis charged and plunged his spear into the bear’s exposed chest, piercing the thick fury hide, and piercing its heart. The force was so great the spearhead erupted out at the back of the bear, covered thickly with black blood and the shaft had split and shattered. The encounter with the bear a couple of days ago has made him more humble and cautious with his surrounding.

When at last, the splinters have finally been removed; Reis could begin the accelerated healing process. Then, he took a few sips of the dewberry juice from a waterskin he’d bought from the last farm he had passed through, and chewed some beef jerky. Holding the Kingdom map in his free hand, courtesy of the Royal cartographer, Reis began coursing his way northbound to the nearest town ahead, two days’ ride away - the town of Fieri.

Beginning.

(From Shierra's Journal)

The sun is rising on a new day as I write this; the first of many tales that I hope will fill this volume. I sit here alone, having seen my three companions leave but a few hours ago to do battle with a fearsome beast, a fight from which I hope they shall return safely. Mehr had instructed me to continue resting, for I had spent a sleepless night worrying, and wondering - but even as the night fades into morning, and the birds slowly begin to sing their morning songs, I cannot shut my eyes for long, nor get the rest I know I need. My heart knows no peace.

The sleeping potion Dashiel had left me lies untouched at my side. Tempting, but false sleep is not to my liking. I cannot sleep, not now. Only this volume which I am scribbling in now can force upon me a sort of calm, as I force out the things I feel onto paper.

Reis, I know, has a volume, in which he has chronicled his own tales to date, though he has burned, or intends to burn that tome, which he says brings nothing but foul memories of things he would rather forget. That part of his life is over, he says, for better or for worse. I sincerely believe that it is indeed for the better.

But why do I write this here, now? Perhaps I fear our separation, which is imminent. Nay, it is not that I fear that they will not return from this battle, which contrary to their beliefs I know they can conquer. It is that soon, we shall be headed our separate ways for awhile, each to seek further knowledge. And there is no guarantee that when we meet again, things will be the same.

I write this volume as a means of remembering all that we have been through, together. I have never had friends like these, and maybe never will again. And though they will laugh at me, for they fear not separation, having little doubt that we will meet again, I cannot laugh as they do, for I know that even the shortest of separations can lead to the greatest of change in some folk.

I wish I could have gone with them to help them fight this battle, but I have already helped them as much as I could. And this is simply not my battle to fight. They will return victorious, however, of that I have no doubt.

Here, I begin my tales – nay, our tales. For whom or for what I write this I do not truly know, but I hope we will be able to look back on everything one day, and laugh. Together.