“Ofcourse,” Xen spoke with a clear tone, as if the past minute hadn’t even happened, “At the dock ahead there’s a ship called the Cerberus. Ask the harbormaster. Wait for me on board and we’ll set off by evening. I need to see to some other matters first.” He shook Ivory off his arm and grabbed his flask. He looked slightly flushed, but it quickly subsided with a swig of blood.
With that, Xen began walking away before stopping abruptly. “Oh, and you’ll need this if you don’t want the crew to kill you... Or worse.” A medallion flicked through the air towards Ivory.
"Yes, Cynthia." Xen sneered at Ivory, "She wasn't one to 'bestow blessings' upon her people. Have you never heard the title 'Cynthia The Tyrant'?" Xen let up on the intensity of his fear inducing aura and stepped passed Ivory toward the beggar.
"Cynthia has no love for you. Not before, and not now from the depths of the Ossuary." The man cowered in fear from a combination of Xen's ghastly appearance and his manipulative magic. "Enjoy the kindness and naivety of this girl, and pray your soul doesn't end up on the same level as her." Without waiting for Ivory's answer, Xen continued his walk toward the riverside docks.
“Aaaand done!” Sapphira proudly floated to Tavren’s eye level with the wheel held in both hands. It was about the same size as her, but she didn’t struggle to hold its weight. Tarkus took the wheel and got to work. “Give me a hand with this, rocky.” Igneous dutifully propped up the wagon. It was nothing for him. He felt a strange loyalty towards Tarkus ever since Vulcure put him in his care, but he still couldn’t shake the powerful urge to protect the Crystal of Balance.
The sun was just setting in the south as they set off again towards Lothair, this time with greater urgency. Sapphira took her turn driving the wagon. She seemed to jump eagerly at any task given to her.
“Are fairies always this high energy?” Igneous thought aloud. The other three passengers turned their attention to Sapphira, who was happily riding on the back of the horse with her hands tangled in its mane, humming a short tune.
“They’re a quarter of our size with just as much energy. If you think she’s a handful, you should see Tarver.”
“Sounds like a headache.”
“For you. The port is quite popular amongst tourists. The high energy atmosphere is an experience like no other. Sleeping in a crystal bed after a long day is paradise…” Ivory trailed off, lost in a nostalgic thought.
“Fae weren’t always like this, you know.” Attention shifted to Caeleo. “They lived with us in the void and The Sky.”
Ivory’s curiosity wrested her from her nostalgia, “What changed?”
“Everyone became interested in Y’vera after Cynthia and Elk arrived, and that included the Fae. The Fae acted as a collective, selectively evolving the species in order to harness more flux. They weren’t entirely original, though. Many of their ideas came from observing the work of Gods. There were even groups that broke away, trying to imitate the Gods themselves. The Fae that live here on Y’vera had been observing mortals. As they strove to copy them, they also strove to perfect them. Some Gods and Nebula say that Fae are the perfect humanoid.”
“How did they become mortal?”
“They imitated the process the Gods used to reincarnate, killing themselves. They reincarnate not as a single progenitor of the Fae species, but instead as hundreds of Fae, establishing the port city Tarver quickly as an economic power.”
"You sure know a lot about our world despite being here for less than a week."
"It was my job, well, our job, to learn about and document your histories."
Healing magic. It wasn’t terribly common, and usually contained within certain families of healers. Three things popped into Xen’s head as soon as he saw Ivory’s magiwork.
One: A healer looking for a poison isn’t a killer. She had better, cleaner methods at her disposal than blood thistle.
Two: How might healing magic effect the process of thistlization?
Three: A follower of Cynthia. Those were a dying a breed ever since her tyranny came to an end. Many became followers of Elk, but for one to still publicly proclaim allegiance to Cynthia…
He stood immediately behind her. Cynthia was no generous goddess. “Did you know her?” It slipped his mind that most people wouldn't have, in this era.
What a forthcoming young lady. Perhaps a little too forthcoming. Xen knew the content of those journals. Anyone who had read them would know that they were full of dark secrets that the residents of Wormsloe wouldn’t even be caught discussing. He took caution to conceal his identity as the author, but his red eyes still widened at the sight of a journal he hadn’t seen for over a hundred years. Regardless, he didn’t skip a beat in his stride or posture.
“Celderon? I’ve read the name before. He was a pyrat aboard the Cerberus. His name is in the list of past crew members.” They rounded a corner into a dimly lit alley. The Wormsloe docks could be seen at the end, past a few homeless and several rats. “I doubt he has any family, though. Pyrats aren’t very compatible with the family lifestyle.”
Xen had a reputation. Most people knew his name from stories. A pyrat from the time of Cynthia and Elk, known for the most vile crimes and acts. But the same man, still alive today? Preposterous. Rational individuals figured the title must be passed down in memory of its original holder, but the superstitious passed along legends that he was indeed the same man, and had obtained eternal life via nefarious means. Nobody believed them, of course, but it was a common enough tale that anyone claiming Xen as a name would raise a few eyebrows. To Xen’s surprise, this time it did not.
“I would greatly appreciate it if you could assist me.” Ivory, was it? She looks fair enough to hail from royalty, or at the very least wealth. Especially with that tone and accent. I wonder if it’s her birth name. “Please.” Xen cracked an evil looking smile. She’s either trying to kill someone or she’s researching thistlization, and no one in their right mind is going to make mention of either. And either way, he was interested. He channeled flux with the naga blood in his system, creating a unique magical field that intimidated those within. “Ofcourse. Come with me.” He turned and walked out the door. His shopkeep didn’t know anything of blood thistle other than it being a poison, so he didn’t want to involve him. Besides, they genuinely didn’t have any there.
One in front, two behind. Mostly makeshift weapons, but one carried an impressive looking mace, probably stolen. Caeleo was used to observing his surroundings; he had done it for 200 years. Unfortunately, having a physical form was new to him. Nebula are initially just entities in the sky, each composed of a single crystal. Every century one Nebula chooses and falls to one of Xeron’s paintings, choosing where they fall and how their physical form will manifest as a result. One perk of this is that Nebula get to choose what brand of magic they will use. Since their bodily structure doesn’t have to match traditional biological structures, they can have incredibly unique flux signatures. Caeleo’s particular brand was light-powered beams.
Caeleo began channeling flux through his core. The bandits were faster than his core, and began battering on his metal frame with little effect. He tried deflecting them to the best of his ability, but Caeleo was still inexperienced. It was one thing watching combat and another actually participating. He sliced through one bandit’s throat with blades attached to his arms, but the others were already backing up to re-evaluate their approach. Caeleo’s attack finished charging, and he reached out his hand. He let forth a continuous beam of concentrated light that inflicted serious burns on both remaining combatants. It was enough to get them to retreat so he could turn his attention to Tarkus.
After a brief encounter with a silent Cleric, the three were headed back to the wagon together. Caeleo was still suspicious of the cleric’s motives, but he welcomed having a competent combatant travel with them. As they approached the wagon with the wood needed for repairs, they heard a loud crash from that direction.
Caeleo and Tarkus approached tactically, taking care not to make too much noise and leaving Tavren to cover their backs. The wagon looked exactly as they left it, with the addition of two unconscious Ashen propped against the side. Sapphira, Ivory, and Igneous were nowhere to be seen. “I wonder where they’ve gotten off to.” Tarkus wondered out loud. Caeleo was less concerned with the people: “What do you think that sound was?” From his previous vantage point in the sky he would have been able to tell immediately. Caeleo put the wood down by the broken wheel and looked inside the wagon. Everyone’s belongings were still there…
“Did you hear that?!” Sapphira’s voice startled the trio as she floated down from above. “I don’t see anything around for miles, but that crash sounded like it was RIGHT THERE.” She pointed enthusiastically to the east, where Ivory and Igneous were walking back from the nearby river. Igneous was staring confusedly at some taffy in its hand, not sure what the woman wanted it to do with it. She took an exaggerated bite out of hers, as if in demonstration.
“We thought it came from the wagon. Sounded like an explosion,” Caeleo explained, “Anyway, we brought the wood. Think you could work your magic and fix the wheel?”
Sapphira glided over to the other end of the wagon. As she rounded the corner she jumped back and let out a startled scream that sounded more like a squeak. “Oh, that’s Tavren,” Tarkus elaborated, “A Cleric. Been followin’ us. He'll do you no harm.” Tavren was busy searching the bandits for useful items. “Oh, well, nice to meet you Tavren!” The cleric stared at the fairy’s tiny outstretched hand for a moment, shook it, then went back to looting. That was enough for Sapphira, so she set to work.
Fairy artisans were renowned for using magic to enhance their craftsmanship. Sapphira had picked up the basics of many different magic based crafts, woodworking included. Over the next several minutes she magically weaved the wood pieces together to make a mostly functional wheel.
Tarkus and Igneous were discussing the bandit encounter while watching Sapphira work. Caeleo greeted Ivory as she returned, “What is that?” He nodded towards the taffy. “Lemon taffy! From Delteria.” Caeleo, in all his time observing, hadn’t paid much attention to human foods. They disinterested him, so he changed the topic. “Did you find anything out about that sound?”
“Oh, right. We didn’t see anything. You don’t suppose it had to do with the Crystal of Balance, do you?” Ivory concealed the fact that the thought was dominating her mind. “It would make sense. Perhaps those two fools saw the Archaeon fall and knew their time was running out.” She could see Caeleo’s concern, despite his metallic features. “Hopefully Asael is making better time than we are.”
“It’s just a wheel, right?” Caeleo stood on the side of the road with Tarkus, both of them confused as to how they forgot a spare wheel, “How hard can it be to replace?”
“I bet we could use the silent heap of junk we’ve been hauling along.” Igneous perked up, and silently looked their direction from inside the wagon. His featureless face seemed to glare at the Naga. “Oh have a heart, Tarkus,” Sapphira glided to Igneous’s side, “He’s alive, you know.”
“What about you, Sapphira? You have some woodworking experience, right? If we provided wood, would you be able to make us a new wheel?”
All eyes were on Sapphira now. Not used to the attention, her small form began to turn a tint of red. She mustered up as proud as she could, “I-I, ofcourse I can!”
“Excellent, we’ll just have to go get some…” Caeleo trailed off as he looked around the vast plain with not a tree in sight. Tarkus was already getting a few tools and weapons together, which involved strapping the metal chair to his back. “Hey no-face,” he addressed Igneous, “Watch after this lot. Me and the star are gonna get some wood.” Without another word, he set off to the west, knowing the forest wasn’t far. Caeleo followed, leaving the trio to fend for themselves.
The wagon began to fade into the hills behind it as Caeleo struggled to make conversation. He spotted the axe on Tarkus’ belt. “Why did you bring your weapon?”
“Bandits.” A few more minutes passed before Caeleo asked another question, trying to make a connection. “What about the others? What if they’re attacked?”
“That’s why I left the rock there. Bandits don’t normally stray that far from the forest, anyways.”
“Can he...it...? Can it fight?” His voice carried a hint of concern. He had picked these people to come with him because they were unique. He didn’t want to lose valuable tools at this point.
“Yeah. I sparred with it last night. It can hold his own. Must have some been programmed for fighting or something… There,” Tarkus pointed to a forest coming into focus, “That’s the place. We gotta be quick. The Lord here doesn’t like guests.”
A few moments later they were both working away at a couple small trees. They only needed enough wood for one, maybe two wheels. A spare couldn’t hurt. The brush rustled nearby, putting Caeleo and Tarkus on alert. Caeleo stepped forward, not one to back down in the face of danger, let alone that posed by humans. His voice echoed out louder and more commanding than before, “Who’s there?”
Silence. The wind blew, rustling more leaves, making the moment linger on longer than it should have. Just as the moment seemed to pass, five bandits came out from nowhere, three for Caeleo and two for Tarkus. Surrounded, they were forced to fight.
At the same time, a pair of bandits were approaching the broken down wagon...
“Suppose we jus’ pretend we’re soldiers, here to help ‘em out to get their guards down.”
“Ah, shaddup. They ain’t as dense as you, that’ll never work.”
“I’m tellin’ you it worked before on me old auntie’s best friend’s brother’s daughter’s husband.”
“And I’m tellin’ you he was a bloody idiot! Yore ‘ole family is bloody idiots!”
“Ay mate, fuck you. What do you suppose we do?”
“We’ll jus’ walk up and steal their shit. It’s not like they’re prepared enough to even have a spare wheel. What makes you think they’ll be prepared enough for us?”
“...that makes a whole lotta sense. You always were the brains, mate.”
“Thankya, thankya. Now shaddup before they hear you shoutin’.”
As foot traffic resumed normal levels, Barion Square became the bustling center for trade and conversation Delteria was known for. The North Gate, also known as Cynthia’s Gate, was designed and constructed by her order using stone and crystal, crafted such that the crystal reflected the rising sun’s rays in beautiful patterns across Barion Square. The more romantic residents of Delteria usually gathered to watch, but today they were joined by a mix of fighters, mages, and politicians preparing for the journey to Lothair and ithica.
Caeleo was standing on the outside of a ring of Delterians, mentally detached from the crowd that was discussing fighting techniques, politics, and fluxcraft. He was eager to set off and unhappy with the widespread lack of urgency. As he scanned the crowd, he spotted a few other like-minded individuals from the night before: Tarkus, Sapphira, Ivory, and Igneous. He quickly broke away and headed towards them. Perhaps this group will want to leave already.
“Caeleo!” Ivory was the first to acknowledge his presence, “What’s causing the delay?”
“Yeah,” an irritated looking Tarkus chimed in, "I could've been selling junk all morning instead of standing around here with the lot of ya."
Caeleo was pleasantly surprised by the Naga’s bluntness. “Time is of the essence,” he echoed the sentiment, “but Vulcure insisted on helping the others prepare.” There was deflection in his voice that betrayed his true emotions on the situation, a shift from his previously monotone and metallic voice. He was getting used to his physical form.
Igneous spoke up, “Why do we have to wait for Vulcure?” The group fell silent. For some reason, nobody had stopped to consider that they could just travel to Lothair on their own. It’s not like it was a difficult road to travel by any means; the riverside path was taken daily by plenty of traders. The group grabbed their belongings nearly in sync and loaded up the 1-horse wagon they had laid claim to earlier that morning. Within a few minutes time they were headed across Lake Delteria's Fae Bridge.
Most of Delteria's architecture was of human creation, but the bridge was built by Fae craftsman as a gesture of their goodwill. Traces of Delteria's block-ish style could be seen intertwined with the Fae's liberal use of carefully crafted loops, curves, and crystals that both enhance the visual appeal and channel flux to ensure structural integrity. Fae made excellent builders; their flight coupled with their small hands allowed them to quickly and accurately construct any structure with ease. The path north was littered with similar, but smaller bridges made of both wood and stone crossing the Delthair River, almost as if the Fae made them for fun. Sapphira was sure to tell her new friends all about the history of the bridge as they crossed it.
