I am not the protagonist of this story, nor do I think I'm cut out to be. Fate just has a funny way of entangling me within its strings. HavenCrest may be run by prophecies and "chosen ones", but opinions can always be swayed by someone deep underground.
***
"Nice work again, Rowan!" remarked the barkeep, tossing me a heavy bag of coins, "What would the kingdom do without you being here to clean up the streets?"
"It's not like I'm doing this specifically for that purpose. I have to do something to make money," I replied, tucking the bag of coins into one of the pouches around my waist, "No one in this kingdom is willing to hire an amputee. It's like they're scared I'm going to be a liability. I have two arms that work perfectly fine, one of them's just made of metal."
I wiggled the fingers of my left arm, feeling the nerve connection in my shoulder shift a little.
After the Incident four years ago, I received a replacement left arm from a mage. They couldn't completely give me a new arm, but they could make a magical artifact that could replicate the movements of a real arm. It still looked like metal though, so there was no way to hide it all the time.
Employers were bound to find out eventually, even if I constantly covered it with my long white coat. And the people who weren't willing to hire someone like me likely had biases that couldn't easily be fixed.
Luckily, the mercenary community in HavenCrest did not care about your past, what you look like, or the enemies you may have made. All they cared about was if you were skilled. If you could do your job swiftly and efficiently, everyone would be treated and paid equally.
Somewhere in the back of the tavern, a glass shattered as the barkeep let out a hearty laugh, "Pay them no mind. You're the greatest swordsman this side of the Break. You're serving this kingdom great by serving us commoners instead of those stuffy nobles."
"What about the other side of the Break? Do you think I could defeat the 'Crimson Empress' in a duel?" I asked incredulously.
"Maybe not, but you can certainly beat everyone else." A look of revelation crossed the barkeep's face as he bent down and searched beneath the counter. "Speaking of the Break, I have another job for you," he handed me a slightly dusty sheet of parchment that looked like it had been sitting under the counter for years. "I've had this job for years but no one has ever taken it. I think that you should be the one to finally do it."
I squinted at the neat swirly letters printed on the page. "You do know I can't read Drakari, right?" I asked, brandishing the parchment at him.
"Oh, so it's a Drakari this time?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked, but the barkeep was already gone.
A deep, long sigh came out of my mouth. What in the world was I supposed to do with a job in a language I didn't know?
***
The sweet scent of freshly baked moon rolls wafted through the bustling market street. The buzz of the first Tandem Moon Festival in five hundred years filled the streets with flyers and joyous laughter. The hilt of my longsword hit my thigh in a rhythmic motion as I rested my right hand on the cool metal of the star-shaped pommel.
The sword was a gift from a client a while back. At the time my sword was chipped and broken in various places and overall not very good at cutting anything. My new sword was made almost entirely out of an alloy mix of Moon Silver and Astrolium which made it the most expensive thing I've ever owned.
But my sword was not the reason I was in the market today. I should have given up on it, but this was about the mysterious commission. Everything about it was just way too curious to give up. I just needed to find someone who could translate Drakari.
Even though HavenCrest is teeming with humans, elves, Drakari, and nocturni, they all live in their communities within the kingdom so you need to know where to look to find them. Since I'm not much for socializing I don't know where anyone lives except for my regular clients.
It wasn't like there were any maps around because apparently, no one who lived in HavenCrest needed one. Because of the Break and other hazards surrounding the kingdom, HavenCrest had no tourists.
Even though the Break was technically passable, no one willingly passed it. Stepping just one foot into the barren desert of the Break was enough to make the magic of anyone on the continent of Eldoria go completely haywire. Instead of learning magic like everyone else in the world, the people of Eldoria were born with magic flowing through their veins.
About two thousand years ago, when Eldoria was discovered, the ten Sovereigns of the Abyss gifted the pioneers with otherworldly powers. They made their home on the continent for the rest of the known history. The magic flowing through their veins got passed down to their descendants, and their descendants' descendants until we reached the generation of magic we have now.
Every citizen in Eldoria now has blood of every color under the sun. Battlefields looked like bad art projects, with all the different colors strewn across the ground.
My sword had been stained many a color throughout my years. That was just the cost that this job came with. Through my veins flowed blood the color of forget-me-nots, a gentle flower that was too good to represent a person like me.
My thoughts slowly trailed off as a loudly colored sign to my right caught my eye. In neon orange letters that felt like they were burning my retinas, a wooden sign read: For the Right Price, Anything is Possible!
The sign plus the sweet-looking blue Drakari sitting behind the counter seemed promising. Her dark blue hair was tied up in an updo and a chain of daisies hung between her gold-painted horns. In her right hand, she held a small pen and was doodling all over the table. The table was nearly covered in stars and constellations of all kinds.
Drakari was a dead language at this point so this was going to be a shot in the dark.
"You wouldn't happen to speak Drakari, would you?"
She jumped slightly when I addressed her. A few daisy petals fell onto the counter as she moved. She tried to hide the pen in her lap but it just clattered to the ground.
"Ah sorry, I don't get many customers. You're the first one today," She apologized as her prehensile tail grabbed the pen off the ground. "So you need a translator? I personally don't know any Drakari, but I do have an informant who does."
"Great, where can I find them?" I asked, throwing a small bag of coins onto the counter.
"So that's the thing. She… disappeared a few months ago and we haven't heard from her since," she replied sheepishly.
The way she paused struck me as a little odd but I played along with it.
"Well, does she have a place of residence or places she likes to frequent? I could help find her in exchange for her services."
The Drakari floundered around a bit. Starting a few sentences but ending none of them. Eventually, she just gave up and led me behind the counter and through a curtain I hadn't even noticed before.
She let out a deep sigh before speaking, "I would be happy to help you, it's just that my informant, Sera, isn't exactly the most law-abiding citizen. She recently got into some trouble with the police for tampering with their data…and also being a serial pickpocket, but that's not as important."
Honestly, with all the bullshit I get myself wrapped up in I shouldn't have even been surprised. This stupid job was turning out to be a lot more effort than it was probably worth.