Reincarnation of the magicless Pinoy!
From zero to hero.
"No Magic?, No Problem!"
Encounter 17 : Being watch
The morning fog still clung low to the ground when the sound of hooves broke through the quiet. From between the dark pines, a line of armored riders emerged—Velkarian patrol knights, their black-and-red cloaks snapping in the wind.
"Hold!" the lead knight barked, raising a gauntleted fist.
The Asher Hawks slowed their horses. Rowan's expression stayed calm, but his mind ran through Edric's warning like a checklist. No real names. No Imperial ties. No slip-ups.
The patrol spread out, flanking them in a loose semicircle.
"You're far from the border," the lead knight said, his voice cold under the steel of his helm. "State your names and business."
Rowan gave a slow, easy smile—the kind that looked relaxed but never careless. "Name's Garrick," he lied smoothly. "This is my crew—The Ironfang Company. We're just passing through on a contract."
The knight's visor tilted. "A contract?"
"Yeah. Our client's paying a fat purse for the capture of a rare beast said to be nesting up in Dragon's Jaw Mountain. Velkaria's the only place it's been sighted, so… here we are."
Rowan reached into his saddlebag, drawing out a folded vellum document stamped with an official-looking seal. The knight took it, scanning the permit with slow, deliberate care.
While he read, another knight began checking their gear. He poked through bags, unrolled bedrolls, lifted weapons—searching for anything that screamed "Imperial." Ren kept his hands in plain sight, Solis leaned casually on his staff, and Tessa just smiled like they'd done this a hundred times before.
The knight returned the document at last. "Permit checks out. Your story… mostly does too."
"Mostly?" Rowan asked with a raised brow.
"You've got the look of fighters who've seen more than 'beast hunting.' But it's not my job to guess at what. Just keep your heads down, don't stir trouble in Velkaria, and you'll keep them attached to your necks."
Rowan gave a mock salute. "Fair enough. Trouble's not in our contract."
The knights wheeled their horses away, the leader casting one last lingering glance over his shoulder before they vanished back into the mist.
Only when they were out of sight did Pete mutter, "Man… that was too close."
Rowan's eyes stayed on the fading hoofprints. "Yeah," he said quietly. "And it won't be the last."
The streets near the base of Dragon's Jaw Mountain were a tangle of market stalls, smoke from roasting meat, and the clatter of wagon wheels over cobblestone. Velkarian banners fluttered overhead, their crimson-and-black colors impossible to miss.
Rowan kept his hood low, scanning the crowd with calm, measured eyes. In his head, he repeated the name Principal Thorne had given him like a mantra: Klaus Bane. Merchant. Member of the Wyvern's Ledger.
"Man, these people are glaring at us," Pete muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his saddlebag-heavy walk. His hand twitched toward his weapon out of habit.
Solis kept his voice steady, though his gaze tracked every side street. "Not a problem. We just need to stay low and find what Rowan's searching for."
Ren scoffed. "Easy said than done. With this many people, how the hell are we supposed to find one slippery man?"
Rowan slowed his pace, his sharp gaze catching something ahead. Pete wasn't paying attention and bumped into his back. "Hey—can you warn me if you're gonna stop?"
"I think…" Rowan's lips curled into a small, knowing smile, "…he found us first."
They all followed his gaze. Across the street, a man lounged on the terrace of a second-story tavern, boots on the railing, mug of beer in hand. His hair was tied back in a messy knot, and his long coat bore the faint emblem of a coiled wyvern holding a coin in its jaws.
The man grinned at them like they were old friends and lifted his mug in salute before giving a lazy wave.
Pete blinked. "Oh… well, that was easy."
The man on the terrace didn't wait for them to come up—he whistled, sharp and clear, then jerked his chin toward a side alley.
Rowan followed without hesitation. The others exchanged wary glances before trailing after him. The moment they stepped into the shadowed passage, a faint shimmer rippled in the air. The hum of the marketplace dulled, replaced by an odd muffled silence.
Klaus Bane leaned against a rain-darkened wall, one boot braced behind him, a half-empty mug still in hand. His coat was weathered leather, patched in places, and his beard was more stubble than style. A jagged scar ran from his left temple to just under his cheekbone, and his eyes—sharp gray—looked like they'd counted coin in ten different kingdoms and cheated someone in all of them.
"Sound ward," he said, tapping the air with two fingers. "Keeps the rats from listening in. And trust me, there are a lot of rats in this city." His voice had that gravelly, unhurried drawl of a man who enjoyed hearing himself talk.
Ren's jaw tightened. "You could've just walked over to us instead of waving like an idiot."
"Oh-ho, but where's the fun in that?" Klaus grinned wide, showing one gold tooth. "Besides, nothing spooks a watcher more than when the prey suddenly leaves the stage. Makes 'em wonder what they missed."
Pete exhaled through his nose. "You talk too much."
"That's because I'm smarter than you, lad," Klaus said with a wink, taking a long sip from his mug. "Talking's cheaper than bleeding, and I prefer my blood inside me."
Bragg barked a laugh, nearly doubling over. "I like this guy. He's got bite."
Ren muttered under his breath, "More like he bites my patience…"
Klaus smirked like he'd heard that anyway. "Now, since you didn't cross half the continent just to admire my handsome face, why don't you tell me why you're sniffing around for a humble merchant of the Wyvern's Ledger? And before you spin me a pretty lie, I'll tell you now—I can smell trouble like a dog smells meat."
Rowan didn't flinch. "Then you already know we're here for business. The kind only you can handle."
Klaus tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, as if weighing the statement against whatever half-dozen schemes were already running through his mind. "Oh, I can handle a lot of things. The real question is—" he tossed his mug aside, the liquid vanishing into the dirt, "—can you?"
Rowan's gaze didn't waver. "After this gig, you'll lead us there."
Klaus raised both brows, feigning offense. "Do I look like a liar to you?"
Pete snorted. "Do you want the truth or—"
Klaus held up a finger, grinning. "Careful, boy. I might start charging you for the air you're breathing in my sound ward."
Rowan stepped closer, his tone flat. "Yes or no?"
Klaus sighed like a man humoring a stubborn child. "Yes, of course. I'm a man of my word. I'll take you straight to the exact location… assuming you come back alive."
Ren's eyes narrowed. "That's a big 'assuming'."
Klaus leaned forward, lowering his voice. "There's a cave up in the Dragon's Jaw range. Locals call it Embermaw Hollow. Used to be a smuggler's stash, until the wrong smell lured the wrong tenants. Now it's crawling with drake spawn, wyvern whelps, and the occasional low-blood dragon. Nasty business for anyone who doesn't know what they're doing."
Bragg grinned. "Sounds like a good time."
Pete groaned. "Sounds like a suicide note."
"Relax," Klaus said, waving a hand. "You don't have to kill everything. Just get me one thing—a scale from the cave's guardian. It's about the size of your hand, silvered edges, warm to the touch even in snow. Bring it back, and I'll take you wherever you need to go. No questions asked."
Tessa crossed her arms. "And if the guardian happens to be awake?"
Klaus' grin widened into something wolfish. "Then you'll either be very rich… or very dead. That's the gamble, sweetheart."
Rowan didn't look at his companions. "Fine. We'll take it."
Klaus stepped back, tapping the invisible wall of the sound ward with two fingers. The muffled bubble popped, and the clamor of the street rushed back in. "Then I'll see you soon, Black Wraith… or whatever you're calling yourself these days."
As the party stepped out into the sunlit street, Pete muttered, "I hate him already."
Ren grunted. "I hate that you agreed so fast."
Bragg laughed under his breath. "I like him. He's trouble."
They hadn't gone twenty steps from Klaus's terrace before Pete exploded.
"Seriously? You just nodded and said 'fine' like he asked us to fetch him bread from the market!"
Ren was right on his heels. "That smug bastard is sending us into a death pit, and you didn't even negotiate. Not a single counteroffer. Nothing."
Rowan kept walking, his eyes fixed on the busy street ahead. "We don't have a choice."
Tessa frowned. "We always have a choice, Rowan."
He shook his head. "Not if we want the location of the Mother of All Flames. That snake is the only one in this territory who knows exactly where it is. If we say no, he'll vanish into the wind and we'll spend weeks—maybe months—chasing rumors. And by then, someone else might have gotten there first."
Pete scowled. "So we're just… dancing to his tune?"
Rowan glanced over his shoulder, his voice low but sharp. "No. We're cutting the music when we're done. But for now, we play along. The sooner we get that scale, the sooner he stops holding the map over our heads."
Bragg chuckled, clearly entertained by the tension. "I like it. Dangerous job, clear target, good pay-off. Sounds like fun."
Pete threw up his hands. "Of course you'd think that."
Rowan stopped at the mouth of an alley, scanning both ends before leading them through. "Argue all you want, but keep your voices down. Velkarian ears are everywhere in this city. The last thing we need is to attract attention before we even reach Embermaw Hollow."
They emerged on the other side into a quieter street, the air colder and carrying the faint smell of the mountains. Rowan's jaw tightened.
"Get your gear ready. We head for the Dragon's Jaw range at first light."
The next morning, the chill bit deeper. Thin fog rolled off the mountain slopes ahead, curling between the stone streets as Rowan and the others left the inn. No one spoke at first; the early hour and the weight of their destination kept the mood taut.
Ren walked rear guard, eyes flicking over the thinning crowd. "We've had a tail since the west gate," he murmured.
"Two of them," Solis added, adjusting the strap on his staff. "Matching cloaks, trying to look like they're just browsing stalls. Failing miserably."
"Velkarian scouts?" Tessa asked under her breath.
Rowan didn't glance back. "Most likely. Keep moving like you don't notice. If we break formation or start acting nervous, they'll get bolder."
Bragg grinned like he'd been handed a challenge. "Or I could just—"
"No," Rowan cut in sharply. "Not here. Not now. We can't risk drawing attention from the city garrison."
They cleared the last row of buildings and the cobblestones gave way to dirt road. The Dragon's Jaw range loomed in the distance, jagged peaks crowned with snow. The air smelled sharper here, cleaner, and the road was quieter—too quiet.
Ren sidled up to Rowan, speaking low. "They're closing the gap. At this pace, they'll be within earshot before we reach the foothills."
"Then we make them think they've lost us." Rowan glanced at a narrow deer path splitting off into the trees. "On my mark, we break left. Bragg, you take point with Tessa. Pete, stay behind me. Solis, watch the rear and mask our tracks."
When he gave the signal, they veered into the woods in a single fluid movement, the sound of their boots swallowed by moss and pine needles. The forest was dim under the canopy, every step muffled.
Minutes later, the faint crunch of pursuit faded behind them.
Solis gave a quiet nod. "Lost them… for now."
Rowan's gaze stayed on the ridgeline in the distance. "Good. Because once we're in Velkarian territory proper, there won't be room for mistakes."
Pete blew out a breath. "Right, straight to Embermaw Hollow. Grab the material, come back alive, and get our map from Klaus."
"Exactly," Rowan said, though his eyes narrowed slightly. "Just remember—the scouts won't give up that easily. They'll be waiting for us to slip."
And with that, they pressed on toward the looming black cliffs of the Dragon's Jaw, where smoke-like mist curled from hidden caverns, and the low rumble of something vast echoed through the stone.
The sun was sinking low by the time they reached the base of the Dragon's Jaw. Sheer cliffs towered overhead like jagged teeth, their shadows stretching long over the ground. The air was warmer here, tinged with the faint scent of sulfur and something metallic. Every few minutes, a deep vibration rippled through the rock under their boots, as if the mountains themselves were breathing.
Ren kept glancing over his shoulder. "No more signs of the scouts," he murmured.
"They're smart enough not to follow this far," Solis replied, though his voice was tight. "Or they're smart enough to wait until we're too tired to fight."
Pete exhaled loudly, breaking the silence. "I don't care if there's scouts or not. This place feels… wrong. Like we're standing inside the throat of something big enough to swallow us whole."
Rowan didn't answer. His gaze was fixed on a wide, dark cleft in the cliff face ahead—a cave mouth shrouded in thick, drifting mist. Just as they stepped closer, a chime echoed in his head.
> [SYSTEM ALERT]
Mission Generated: "Fangs of Embermaw Hollow"
Objective: Retrieve the Molten Heart Scale from within Embermaw Hollow.
Details: The cave is home to multiple hostile entities, including low-tier drakes and Embermaw Broodlings. Proceed with caution.
Bonus Objective: Defeat the Hollow's alpha guardian to receive additional rewards.
Failure Condition: Death of any party member.
Primary Reward: Embermaw Armor Core (Epic) + 50,000 XP.
Bonus Reward: [Undisclosed]
Rowan's lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Looks like Klaus wasn't exaggerating about the 'dangerous' part."
Tessa raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming that face means trouble?"
"Drakes," Rowan said simply, tightening the strap on his jawbreaker arm. "And something bigger. Maybe a guardian. This won't be a quick grab-and-go."
Ren climbed halfway up a nearby boulder, scanning the terrain ahead. "No movement yet, but I swear I can hear something breathing in there."
"That's because it is," Solis muttered, already whispering a soft incantation. Faint blue light wrapped around each of them, a protective ward. "We go in like this, we'll have an edge—at least for the first few hits."
Rowan turned to the group. "Formation. Ren on high ground, keep your bow ready and call out anything moving in the shadows. Tessa, Bragg—frontline with me. Pete, you guard Solis and keep our rear clear. We're not here to wipe the place clean, just to get what we came for."
They moved in.
The first breath of air from inside the cave was hot and damp, carrying the reek of scorched stone. The glow of faint orange light pulsed deeper within, as if the walls themselves were smoldering.
Something shifted ahead—stone scraping on stone—and a low growl rumbled through the hollow. Then came the sound of claws on rock, quick and sharp, echoing toward them.
"Contact," Ren hissed from his perch.
Three shapes emerged from the mist—lithe, reptilian bodies with scales that shimmered like molten metal, eyes burning with ember light. Embermaw Broodlings, each the size of a warhound, fanned out across the path.
Bragg grinned and hefted his shield. "Round two, anyone?"
Rowan's jawbreaker arm hissed as its mechanisms locked into place. "Stay sharp. This is just the welcoming party."
The broodlings hissed in unison—and then the ground trembled harder, the heat in the air spiking. From deeper in the hollow, a shadow far larger than the rest shifted, the faint gleam of curved horns catching the firelight.
And with one echoing roar, the guardian announced itself.
To be continued...