The tavern was thick with the mingled scents of roasted meat, spilled alcohol, and damp wool. It was loud, a low roar of conversation punctuated by laughter and the clatter of mugs.
Logun navigated the crowded room with surprising ease, eventually finding a small, unoccupied table tucked into a corner.
He slid onto the bench with a sigh of satisfaction, gesturing for Relik to sit opposite him.
"Ah, much better," Logun declared, signaling a passing server with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Proper sustenance after a day of… divine bureaucracy."
He ordered two large mugs of ale without consulting Relik, then added, "And bring us a bottle of your most local red! Can't be in Remu and not sample the goods, eh?" green eyes winked again, though this time it seemed aimed vaguely at the ceiling.
Relik sat stiffly, his hands clasped in his lap beneath the table. He watched Logun, who was already taking a long, appreciative gulp of the ale when it arrived. The foam left a white mustache on his upper lip, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. Then added downward pats of the palm to smooth out his low cut beard.
Relik declined his own mug with a small shake of his head. The thought of drinking felt alien, almost disrespectful, given the seismic shift his life had just undergone.
Logun didn't press. He simply refilled his own mug from the bottle of red wine that arrived next, pouring with a generous hand.
The rich, fruity aroma of the wine filled the small space around their table.
Relik recognized the scent instantly – it was one of the varietals grown on his family's estate.
A pang of homesickness, sharp and unexpected, twisted in his gut. He focused instead on the way Logun held the glass, swirling the wine with a casual confidence and familiarity.
"So, Guardian Relik," Logun slurred, leaning back with a sigh, a picture of relaxed contentment that grated on Relik's frayed nerves.
"Bit of a shock, I imagine? One minute you're thinking about… well, whatever it is you Von Vinos think about. Grapes? Fermentation times?" He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Next minute, boom! You're chosen. Destiny calls, and all that."
Relik picked at a loose thread on his trousers. "Something like that."
Logun took another slow sip of wine, his eyes half-closed in apparent pleasure. "It's a grand calling, though, truly. The gods don't just pick anyone, you know. Takes a certain… fire. A resilience. And frankly," he leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping slightly, though still easily audible over the tavern noise, "a bit of luck. Sometimes they just need a guardian in a specific place, at a specific time. Could be you just happened to be the best fit on the list today."
He poured more wine. Relik watched the liquid splash into the glass, noting the almost imperceptible unsteadiness in Logun's hand.
Best fit? Or just… available?
The lottery comparison from his earlier thoughts resurfaced, bitter and unwelcome.
"Guardians are the shield," Logun continued, his tone shifting, becoming more earnest despite the wine. "The first line. Whenever the Empire is under threat, when things that shouldn't be poking their noses into our territory, it's the guardians who step up. We keep the peace the gods blessed us with. We protect the people, the farms, the cities... even the vineyards, I suppose." He grinned.
"Wouldn't want anything happening to the source of this excellent gallery, would we?"
He gestured with his wine glass, nearly sloshing the contents.
Relik's gaze flickered to the glass, then back to Logun's face. The man was explaining a role of immense responsibility, of protecting an entire nation, while steadily working his way through a bottle of wine.
It felt… wrong.
Undermining.
Yet, Logun's eyes, though perhaps a touch glazed, held a genuine conviction when he spoke of the role's importance.
"It's not easy," Logun admitted, his cheerful façade dimming slightly for a moment. "Requires sacrifice. Training. And sometimes… well, sometimes it requires getting your hands dirty. But the reward… it's knowing you stood between the darkness and the light. That's a powerful feeling, kid. More potent than any wine."
He took another long drink, as if testing the truth of his own statement.
"That and the pay isn't half bad either."
Relik remained silent, absorbing the words. Sacrifice. Training. Darkness and light. It was all so far removed from the predictable cycle of seasons, the meticulous care of the land, the quiet satisfaction of a successful harvest. His hands, comparatively soft from years of indoor work and light vineyard tasks, felt utterly inadequate for the tasks Logun described.
He was less than novice in any art of war. More a liability than a hand trusted to strike. In ideal situation he would believe himself to be claylike, moldable. However, he felt more like a delicate wine glass, about to be shattered.
Logun finished his wine and reached for the boy's mug of ale.
"Don't look so glum, Relik! It's an adventure! See the world, meet interesting people… fight terrifying monsters!" He punctuated the last point with a dramatic flourish of Relik's mug, sloshing a little ale onto the table.
"Alright, maybe not always terrifying. Sometimes they're just… annoying. But someone's gotta deal with 'em, right?"
He chuckled again, draining the ale. Relik watched him, a strange mix of apprehension and morbid curiosity swirling within him.
This was his recruiter, his guide into his new destiny. A cheerful, slightly swaying man who spoke of sacred duty between sips of alcohol.
Relik still felt lost, adrift, but a new, unsettling question was beginning to form in his mind: what exactly was the Burning Tempest, and what qualities did they value in their guardians?
Logun set down his empty ale mug with a soft clink, wiping his mouth again with the back of his hand. He looked at Relik, his gaze lingering for a moment before that wide, slightly unfocused smile returned.
"Still quiet, kid. Most new recruits are buzzing with questions. Or trying to look tough. You're just… observing."
Relik flinched, caught in his quiet assessment. He managed a small shrug. "I… I don't really know what to ask. This… it's very-"
"New," Logun chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound.
"Fair enough. Comes with the territory, I guess. I always wanted to be a guardian don't know how I'd react if my destiny was to be a plumber. Bit jarring."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression softening slightly. "Alright, ask me anything. No such thing as a stupid question only unrelated ones."
Relik hesitated, searching for the right words. His mind went back to Logun's description: standing between the darkness and the light. It sounded grand, but abstract.
What did that actually mean?
"You said… protecting the Empire," Relik began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "From… things that shouldn't be. What kind of… things?"
Logun's smile didn't fade, but a flicker of something more serious crossed his eyes. He leaned back again, swirling the wine in his glass.
"Ah, the 'things that shouldn't be'. Good question." He took a thoughtful sip. "They come in all shapes but usually are pawns from the Titan Colony, Relik. Sometimes they're people bred to spread misinformation or giants sent from the south to insight choas through destruction. Sometimes they're… influences. Things that twist people, or places. Things that want to unravel the order the Astras put in place. Being a guardian gives you the jurisdiction of the judge, jury and executioner."
He paused, his gaze distant for a moment.
"For the last few years its been like… blight on a vine," he said, surprisingly, "Something unnatural, something that corrupts and destroys if you let it. We're the ones who have to prune it out, before it spreads and ruins the whole harvest."
Relik nodded slowly, the analogy clicking into place in his mind.
Blight.
He knew blight.
It was insidious, starting small, then consuming everything if not dealt with swiftly and ruthlessly.
The idea of these 'things' being like a spiritual or physical blight on the land and the Empire made a chilling kind of sense.
"And… how do you… prune it?" Relik asked, the question simple, practical, born from his own experience with infected vines. "With… tools?"
Logun's grin widened. He set down his wine glass and tapped the worn leather of his armor. "Tools, yes. But not just shears and copper spray, kid." He reached a hand towards his belt, where Relik now noticed the glint of metal beneath his cloak.
A sword.
A strange one that seemed to be attached to the mans leather armor through a thick but flexible metal wire.
Relik had never seen anything like it.
"We use magic-sensitive steel, canons. And sometimes… even our very souls. Depends on the blight."
He tapped his temple.
"Requires a sharp mind, too. Knowing where to cut, when to cut, and what to cut with. That's why we have so many guilds. Each having a diverse cast of specialist and generalist that can take control no matter the circumstance."
He picked up his wine again, taking a large gulp.
"Training," he said, wiping his mouth. "That's where you learn the tools. How to use 'em. How to spot the blight before it takes root. How to fight it when it does."
He looked at Relik, his expression assessing.
"You look like you could use some muscle on those arms, Von Vino. Vineyard work is one thing, but swinging a blade or holding a bolt gun is another."
Relik felt a chill creep up his neck. He was scrawny, he knew it. The voices in his vision had said as much. The thought of wielding a sword, or facing down enemies,' felt utterly absurd for someone like him.
"I… I don't know how to fight," Relik admitted, his voice quiet, vulnerable.
Logun waved a hand dismissively. "Nobody does, until they have a reason to. That's what the Tempest is for. Our guild has a trainer that can get you up to speed in three weeks."
Logun's eyes widened for a brief moment as he recalled a memory.
"I'm confident because I've seen her do it. She's mean and a bit uncovilized honestly but, if you show her the effort and potential. She'll l provide the hammer and the anvil." He finished his wine and poured himself another glass, the bottle now more than half empty.
"Don't worry about the 'how' just yet, kid. Just know that you're needed. And we'll teach you."
He leaned back again, a picture of cheerful confidence, seemingly unburdened by the heavy topics they were discussing. Relik watched him, the knot in his stomach easing slightly, replaced by a different kind of tension – the daunting prospect of learning to wield a 'hammer and anvil' against a 'blight' he couldn't even see yet.
Thankfully his current companion seemed to have an infectious laid back attitude. Which proved to be enough to satiate him for now.
Relik grabbed at his now empty mug and pushed it towards the bottle.
Logun nodded in approval before pouring with a heavy hand.
Relik lifted his mug overhead.
"To destiny and The Burning Tempest."