At the Empire of Endregar, an adolescent young man of his age. And followed by his five powerful and high-ranking companions, they kneel in front of the king's palace hall.
A young hero in radiant armour. The armour he wears is a blend of a knight's and a fighter's. Platemail padded on his chest and arms, leather and chainmail are then layered for additional protection. If focused, there are a few scratches, showing that he was taking good care of his equipment. Additionally, a novice mage can feel the leaking energy.
His sword and armaments were nowhere to be seen, perhaps on hold from the presence of the king. From the young hero's appearances, his striking face isn't the only thing that makes a person give him respect, but the reputation that he merits from all over Vashkeil.
"I beg you, Emperor Reynfred Dryden II. You must stop this; our people's past has already been filled with rivers of blood. Too much sacrifice had been made, and the people are still recovering from the past." Before the young man could follow another word, he was cut off by the king.
"Do you dare question me?" The king answered,
"It's not what you think, my lord, but if you go—"
Again, he was interrupted—this time by the king's royal advisor, a man clad in fine armour, the armour of a wizard slayer. His appearance was intimidating, with dark, malicious eyes, but he maintained a calm, commanding expression that concealed his true intent.
Posturing with elegant authority, the king's advisor garbed himself in robes and light chainmail layered with leather armour. Even the king's guard felt the vibrant enchantment resonating in their skin.
"Pardon my intrusion, Sir Roland, the descendant of Seth, the hero of Vashkeil. It would be better to settle this with those who delve into political matters, not with those who are not very familiar with politics." The king's advisor announced.
"From my understanding, members of the adventurer's guild aren't supposed to be prying into affairs of state. Shouldn't you all be somewhere else, defeating monsters from the veil?" The wizard slayer continues.
When the king's adviser finished speaking, the two glared at each other in dispute, like dogs ready for a brawl. Too noble for a petty brawl, Roland and his companions stood and hurriedly left the hall. From the looks of it, diplomacy and persuasion weren't enough to change the king's mind. Yet before they walked away, Roland said his last words to the king.
"It would be wise to stop this conflict with Keshoval. I assure you, nothing will bring you any good."
"Thank you, dear adventurers, for your advice, but I suggest you head towards Dolvadish, sir Roland. I heard some monsters need slaying. You might want to hurry up; people might perish without your gallant actions." The advisor replied with a smile.
Outside the palace—dressed in a cloak, Roland and his companions search for a tavern for a rest. Dragon HeartInn, a tavern situated a kilometre from the main capital of Endregar. It's where high-ranking adventurers and merchants are staying. Upon their arrival, the people loitering in the place murmur, whisper, and gossip towards the hero.
"Mm-hmm… such a beautiful companion, I see." Chuckles is one of the lingering individuals.
"I never thought that the hero would come across this place; it must be nice to hold a pouch of coin." Says the other man, drinking with his friends.
"Hah… This place should learn its manners." Grunts a beautiful knight of Adra.
"Leave them be, Lady Irish, we should probably keep our things as they are." Implies the high elf, her voice was bold and calm.
"Can we just leave this place? I have a bad feeling that we're being watched."
"Now-now, we should first have something to eat. It's been a long day coming here. We've been travelling nonstop for days; a simple relief should soothe some old man's muscle" Smiles Roland towards Ulgar.
A silver Shar was given to the taverner's table; in return, a lavish meal was set upon their table. Freely as they are, the heroes banter about their past journey. Expensive beverages are then followed, adding a spice to their joshing.
"The road must have been treacherous for you. I dare say you're one of the few adventurers who look promising to me." The wench spoke while she placed the food and drinks at the heroes' table.
"It's perilous, I say, madam, and I thank you for your kind words." Irish reacted.
"Oh, and just to remind you, casting spells and magic is prohibited in this place. The Order of Magi is on full alert today; some organisation or whoever they are is trying to infiltrate the capital. We don't want the Order chewing our asses for simple problems."
"Is that so? Then I thank you again for the advice."
"Much obliged." The wench nods before she goes to tend other tables.
Time passes, and slowly the tavern of whispers and murmurs, of rumours and words of truth or lies, transforms into a rowdy, chaotic atmosphere.
The night was long, and soon the alcohol doused the lively tavern atmosphere. It was time for bed rest, and time for people to indulge in serious conversation. The ones that aren't consumed by the debauchery of alcohol lie separated at an isolated table.
There, they mutter and whisper their private plan. It's where they talk about politics and other dark rumours. Words of organisation that are outside morality, cultists, and the occult are to be spoken.
"Bah, Maginum… I know it's them. I've seen some of them… funding those cultist bastards." Scoffed one of the drunk guards before gulping down a whole tankard of ale.
"Are you drunk? Did that chick with a big bosom hit you in the head?" Replied his partner.
"Shut yer tunnel, I'm telling the truth."
"Aye-aye, now drink while you still can."
During which the people continued their chattering, at Roland's table, there was a single person who wasn't guzzling intoxication. While Roland's companion lay waste on the table, the man was still drinking a mug of special mead. Sip by sip, he gathers what information the people are uttering, whether petty gossip or not.
A bald man with four scars on the left side of his face. Fully plated and verdant in colour. From the looks, he was proficient with a war hammer and a shield, a paladin of Adra. One can tell he was in his middle age.
"Sir Ulgar, can you help me carry our friends?" Roland spoke, his eyes pointing at the three women wasted on the table.
"I'll carry the two." Ulgar Agrees.
"I've left my mark on our room, I'll—"
"Don't—" Ulgar halts Rein before she could activate her magic. "Did you listen to what the servant said earlier?"
"I forgot about that." Rein massages her head.
"Here, take this, this will help you," Roland said, offering a gleaming brown seed.
Swallowing one, gradually, the slight intoxication was cleansed for only a quarter of an hour.
Reaching the third floor, two separate rooms were rented—one for his female companions and one for the men. At the men's room, three were present, as for the three women, drunkenness slumbers them.
"Rein, did you find any suspicion with the king or his advisor?" Ulgar implores, after secretly casting sealing magic, an emulsion that coats the room from spies.
Rein shakes her head. "I haven't; there were no anomalies. Only the leaking magic that I was able to detect."
"I see," Ulgar replied, fingers pressed on his lips.
"What say you, Sir Ulgar?" Roland said.
"Oddly, as much as you are, no irregularities are coming from the king or that advisor of his. Or maybe—"
Just then, Rein's magic alarm activated. The sealing magic she cast from the room was suddenly pierced. Like a needle piercing paper—their conversation was immediately halted, and their hands grasped their weapons.
Roland went outside and saw nothing but servants cleaning the floor.
"Is there something the matter, sir?" One of the servants asks, a young male carrying a copious meal, who, by the thought, intently watches Roland's hand tightly clasping the handle of the sword.
"Nothing, you best carry on with your duties." Roland then relinquishes his hand.
The servant nods and quickly passes Roland, but at a distance. Clinging more to the railings, the servant he was, before hastening his steps.
"I'll take the night," Ulgar spoke.
The two quickly nodded, but just before they could embrace, they fell asleep. They gather in one room; one stays for a watch, while Roland waits for his turn.
The sun came, and there were no irregularities that disrupted their sleep. On the other hand, there were no reports of their use of magic. The only thing that lingers with the adventurers is the suspicion and silence of being watched.
Cloak wraps conceal their appearance, but once outside the inn, Rein casts illusion magic to change their clothes. Despite this, the group remains uneasy, sensing they are being watched. Their instincts stay alert, whether they appear as merchants or common peasants, even if they attempt to alter their illusion.
It is perilous to say that their short meeting with the king and his advisor gave way to danger.
"I would very much like to leave this city," Falnia whispers.
"Me neither." Riza follows.
Traversing the great city of Thalavan, the capital of Endregar. Lively and bustling with merchants of many kinds—a city built of concrete, bricks, stones, and many other materials mined from the great mountain of Xaramor. Built by magic and the ingenuity of mortals. The city hides many aqueducts, underground tunnels, and other secrets.
There, Roland spots an unusual individual, a young beggar probably in his mid-twenties, or maybe a weary drifter from somewhere else. His clothes are torn, as if he had been chased by a monster. No boots are visible, only the wounds on his feet.
"What now, Roland?" Riza scoff as she watches Roland and Ulgar strolling towards the man.
"Greetings," Roland spoke. "You seem troubled."
"Please, I have no more money to spare." The man nervously implores.
From the looks of it, the man was in a tattered state. Judging by his condition, they can tell he hasn't eaten for days.
"You don't have to worry, young man. We're one of the adventurer's guilds." Roland reveals his magical crest.
"What's your name, young man?" Ulgar implores.
"Mabtik, names Mabtik… I come from Rivelwolf, there at Dolvadish."
"Dolvadish? You're far from home, Mabtik. What sets you up that you've come all the way here?"
"My village had been facing a problem for many years."
"What kind of problem?" Ulgar ask.
"The people from my village had been slowly disappearing, and one of our rangers hasn't returned from his investigation."
"Why didn't you hire or contact the adventurer's guild?" Roland implores.
Mabtik turns silent, a mix of embarrassment and trouble.
"Go on, you can tell us."
Putting aside his mortification, Mabtik then tells his stories while Ulgar secretly conducts a lie-detector test. Once Mabtik explained everything, Ulgar gave Roland a sign that he was telling the truth.
"The reason you'd lost the money, the village mayor gave it to you, was because you couldn't distinguish a brother and a tavern?" Ulgar spoke.
"Yes, I wasn't really familiar with the outside world. It was the lady who accidentally, or if I'm not mistaken, intentionally spilt her drinks, pouring some into mine. I didn't think much of it until I woke up in a cage of slave merchants. But monsters ambushed the merchants and us for their selfishness; they toss us for bait."
"And how did you escape?" Ulgar implores.
"One of the servants, hiddenly unlocked our cages, before we were thrown out of the carriage. Share with her a great life."
"What about the other people from the cage? What happened to them?" Roland calmly voiced.
Mabtik gave a long pause; the look on his face shows that he may have witnessed a gruesome act.
"That's alright, you don't have to tell us." Roland stood, extending his hand to Mabtik. "Now, let's first do the paperwork at the guild." Roland continues.
To Mabtik's eyes, that single moment gave hope, and what he saw to Roland was like an angel, extending a hand of hope.
"Oh boy, here we go again." Riza rolls her eyes.
"Just let him be." Falnia glared at her.
Entering the adventurers' guild, situated southeast of Thalavan. Riza finally felt relief; the lingering eyes of being spied upon cowered away upon arriving at the Adventurers' Guild.
"I understand, but I first need to make the documents for your mission at Dolvadish to be acknowledged. It might take an hour; will that be alright with you?" The female receptionist replied.
"That won't be a problem." Ulgar nods.
The receptionist nods back before retrieving from the inner office of the guild. Only half an hour later, the receptionist returned with two stamped documents confirming that their request was acknowledged.
Called and asked to sign the two papers. In a twist, Roland offers the papers towards Mabtik.
Shock and a bit embarrassed, Mabtik was mortified as he wrote his name. Roland glanced and saw how terrible his writing is. Showing Mabtik's lack of academic ability, but it was enough, and Roland understood what the lack of simple education meant.
Adding the other documents from their file of hundreds of receipts. The other was given for the guild's receptionist.
"May the gods be with your journey." The receptionist offers her hand to Roland.
"And may they grant you quieter days than mine," Roland says softly, clasping her hand. "I'll return with the contract fulfilled."
"Godspeed, adventurers."