24th Muriel, 1093.
Roughly fifteen hundred kilometers northwest of Aygor's Citadel, a young wisben named Iralu Mend tapped his sleeping companion's shoulder as he watched a river the duo had taken to calling 'Devil's Hook.'
On a typical day, Iralu observed the gigantic creatures that occasionally burst out of the river with awe
Today, however, the sea was quiet. Far too quiet. And Iralu knew why.
Teeth chattering, Iralu had to resist an urge to punch his companion awake as a fleet of boats bigger than any he had ever laid eyes on rushed onto the shore, night-black hulls imposing even under the afternoon sun. Considering this was that river, there was no question about who the arrivals were. His suspicions further confirmed when companies of red armored soldiers descended from the boats' largest onto the sandy beach.
The young scout further paled as hundreds of beastmen and mercenaries descended from the other boats. The difference in the two armies apparent in the disciplined order by which the red army moved, neatly arranging themselves in tight formation soon as foot met the sand.
The other army led by Orthana was much laxer with their formation. Some even laughed and boasted of their expectations of the battle to come.
"Wh-what's going on?" A soft voice whispered from the side.
Iralu spared his waking partner a glance. The young cerulian woman brushed hair the color of sand out the way of amber eyes, which held traces of wariness and excitement. Corinne Fuze, just past twenty years of age, was a graduate of the only functioning academy in Rosendun. She had dragged Iralu Mend, who had the fortune(?) of graduating in the same year into The Hopeful Maggots as she 'felt the winds blowing.' "They are already here?"
"It was as the General thought," Iralu muttered as he turned his attention back to the enemy at the shore. A red-haired man who seemed to be the red army's General was having some discussion with Orthana. Unfortunately, given the distance, Iralu could not hear what was said. "If the enemy was to come by sea, there are very few places they could alight."
"Hehe, those poor guys," Corinne said with a mischievous smirk, thinking of the soldiers posted at the other potential exit points. "I'm afraid they have all waited for nothing. We'll be the ones bagging the merit this time."
'I would rather not be anywhere close to the enemy.' Although Iralu felt this way in his heart, he could not say it out loud. He knew how ambitious and hot-headed his partner could get. All saying that out loud would do is get him lectured on how he has to set his sights higher in life, and no reward comes without risk and bla bla bla...
Iralu kept his gaze on the army below, estimating their size. His brows furrowed upon realizing the red army were only a thousand men strong, not counting the obvious War Bards. As General Absalon said, if the enemy's numbers were too small, they had trump cards of some sort, or they were indeed strong enough to handle armies five times their size.
Although neither of these options was comforting, Iralu knew it was not his job to worry over these big decisions—nor did he want to for that matter. He would make his report and then leave it to the General to figure out the rest.
Iralu took out the standard-issue rink from his backpack, a small smile on his face as he relished in one of the comforts of joining with a guild. Things like rinks were much too difficult for the common populace to get their hands on due to their limited numbers, and researchers had not yet found a method of faithfully manufacturing new ones.
Iralu had heard rumors down the grapevine that their guild leader had succeeded in making something similar that could transport voices between two Rinks, but he would not believe it until he saw it with his own eyes.
The wisben injected some mana into the rink, shifting back to ensure the dull glow did not alert the targets on the beach. A small list of names hovered over the rink, from which he voiced, "General."
The rink pulsed as it began establishing a connection with its counterpart in Aygorzi. Seconds later, Absalon's deep voice boom through. "Report."
Irula swallowed hard. He could not believe just how much pressure the General's voice alone put him under. "Sir, five Deathsworn ships carrying enemy soldiers just moored at Axepoint Ridge. We have positive sightings on Sheri Orthana and a man matching the description given for Ruse."
"Good work Private Mend," Absalon praised, causing Irula's eyes to widen. He never expected the General to know him by name. "How many hostiles are we facing? Any siege weapons with them?"
Still glowering from having his name spoken by the esteemed General, Irula's voice rose a pitch with increased vigor. "Ruse's army number a thousand strong, well-drilled, and disciplined from up here. They are wearing full plate heavy armor, so we might have to take that into consideration. No siege weapons, but there are roughly one hundred war bards. Orthana's side has roughly three thousand soldiers and two hundred war bards. They resemble a disorderly band of mercenaries cobbled together under the promise of profit."
There was a pause as Absalon took a moment to process the report. Minutes later, he finally asked, "What about their mounts? Can you estimate how long we have till they reach our walls?"
Iralu habitually shook his head despite the fact Absalon could not see him. "They did not come wi—"
"Hey, Iru!" Corinne force-whispered, heavily tapping on his head. She did not bother with Iralu's scowl, her attention solely on the army below. "Those red guys are up to something!"
Iralu apologized to his General as he shuffled up the hill. His brows furrowed even deeper at the events on the shore.
With a burst of light, a scroll appeared in the hands of every member of the red army. Despite the knowledge that every instinct and known facts stated it was impossible, the wisben was forced to accept the reality that every member of the red army had some spacial artifact for storing objects just like Summoned.
The red army answered Iralu's question about the scrolls' purpose when they simultaneously tore the scroll in two halves.
Iralu quickly pushed Corinne's head to the ground as blasts of mana reinforced wind sliced past in droves, smashing against the hillside with so much force, dust clouds exploded several feet in the air. Only after about twenty seconds did the wind die down, allowing the wisben to come out of cover. He carefully peered over the edge of the cliff, taking comfort in the fact the burst of mana had been omnidirectional, significantly reducing the possibility it was an attack on them.
Iralu damn near regretted his actions. Sometimes it was best to live in ignorance. The wisben turned pale as the arm he'd been using to hold down Corinne's head limply dropped to the side. The cerulian, finally free, glared at her best friend but knew better than to shout at him. Furthermore, his eyes frightened her, so she followed his line of sight to the shore below.
The view drained the color from Corinne's cheeks.
By the side of each member of the red army were at least four rifts... yes, actual tears in space, characterized by the static-like distortions within them. From out of these portals stepped out other soldiers dressed in identical armor. But that was not the end. Each of these now six thousand strong army took out two scrolls and tore them in half. This time, rather than a tear in space, mandalas appeared on the earth in front of them. From these mandalas rose avespas, one for each soldier and bard.
Ruse's and Larsial's avespas each had unique red and black feathers, respectively, their imposing presences standing two heads above the other avespas. With some final words to Orthana, Ruse hopped onto his mount. With a shake of the reins, he led the nearly seven thousand strong army inland, the collective dust from their hooves resembling a wild sandstorm.
With a face pale as a sheet of paper, Iralu brought the rink to his trembling lips. "I--!" Before he could complete his report, a dark grey magic staff appeared in Orthana's right hand. Iralu paused, noting her rapidly moving lips and the telltale swirl of magic about her. It did not take a genius to realize she was casting a spell. And a high-level one at that too, considering the amount of time it was taking her.
The swirling mana grew so thick that its ephemeral blue form was visible to the human eye. Droves of mana concentrated into a spiral about forty meters above the ground, gradually merging to form a mandala nearly thirty meters wide. The inscriptions on the mandala rotated in place as mana solidified into an ugly dark purple gate with fantastic beasts of every kind seemingly melted onto its surface.
With a loud groan, the gates swung downwards, revealing a swirling mass of mana indicative of a portal of some sort. Iralu's pale face turned white as snow, eyes threatening to jump out of their sockets at the horror that dropped onto the ground, causing the earth to tremble for miles. It was a massive salamander-like beast, with a body over sixty meters long (not counting its tail), ten meters wide, and fifteen meters tall.
To the scouts' abject horror, two more of these monstrosities dropped from the portal, their guttural roars reaching echoing in their ears like they were right next to them. Iralu only now understood why the Warmaster in the academy had repeatedly warned against underestimating summoners in combat.
Although summoners were physically weak and generally could not protect themselves in combat, if they were given enough time to summon—especially at higher levels—they could become massive nightmares. Iralu's only source of comfort rose from the apparent drain on Orthana, emphasized by her momentary drop to a knee. For such a prideful woman who refused to show or admit any weakness, a public drop to a knee would only occur when she was weakened beyond even her considerable willpower.
Unlike her partner, Corinne watched the proceedings with increased interest and curiosity. Although she was also frightened by the beasts and did not dare to imagine what would happen should the two of them be captured, her child-like curiosity still won above all. She wondered what role these beasts would play in the upcoming war even as the warriors began climbing up their sides, taking advantage of bone spurs that grew randomly on them.
Soon all three thousand odd men and women were seated on the beasts' backs. In a funny twist of fate, the bone spurs on the beast's backs were much longer than those on its feet, nearly reaching a meter in length, allowing the warriors to rest against them for increased stability.
Orthana fished a potion out of a pouch on her waist and drank it, grimacing as color returned to her face. After one final, disdain-filled glance at the dust cloud in the distance, she jumped onto the lead beast. It rushed inland, taking a slight detour towards the north.
Only when the massive beasts were far enough, and he could no longer see the dust cloud kicked up from the surprisingly quick feet did Iralu dare insert his mana once more into the rink. He swiftly reported everything he had seen, sparing no details about how terrifying the enemy they were about to face was.
However, despite his paranoia, Absalon's calm voice only said, "Good work, soldier. Your merit will be rewarded."
Iralu shut off the rink after thanking the general, a part of him overjoyed Absalon did not ask the unreasonable, to fo—
"Hey, why don't we follow them?"
Iralu's relief caught in his throat. He lifted a pair of shaky eyes to stare in disbelief at the shining pair opposite. 'Normal people avoid danger!' Iralu screamed within his head, tears nearly forming in his eyes. But no matter how much he hated it, he already knew what his answer would be.
Iralu got up from the sand with a groan and walked towards the shrubbery where they hid their mounts. "Let's get to it before a storm wipes their trail."
"Hehe," Corinne teased with a grin. "Iru's still the best."
"Yeah, sure," Iralu dryly chuckled as he mounted his horse. He cast a gaze toward the south, his expression slightly heavy. He had not gotten to enjoy more than a glass of those cold drinks. He only hoped he would live to return and enjoy them. Ah, some lucky chap was most likely smacking his lips in satisfaction at this moment.
Rine's Bar,
Meilfour
Within the secret room that doubled as a wine cellar, Miote sat at the head of a newly placed table, smacking his lips with satisfaction as he sampled one of Muko's new drinks. Indeed, ever since Kashi introduced the Merrite to the wonders of cold drinks, he had been experimenting non-stop, churning out new flavors one after the other.
So much so, Miote was starting to doubt the man was really connected to a secret, powerful organization that could stand toe-to-toe with large guilds. Muko was nothing more than a tavern owner who loved his job a little too much to the common eyes.
Miote shook his head lightly, surmising that was all a part of the brilliant cover. The telltale creak of an opening door drew the golden chesch's attention to the top of the stairs, a ways from where he sat. A middle-aged mertian, with dark ebony skin dressed in a purple doublet with gold trimmings, stood at the door, intense dark-brown eyes carefully measuring up the golden chesch below. His brow rose with interest as Miote raised his mug and gestured at the seat next to him.
The mertian, intrigued, walked down into the room and took a seat. Without sharing a word, the strange man picked the fancy mug and lifted it to his lips. His eyes lit up with shock as the cold, sweet liquid trickled down his throat. He turned to the chesch, his gaze conveying numerous questions at once. However, much to his chagrin, Miote's only reply was a small teasing smile with a clear message. 'Wait a little longer.'
As luck would have it, the mertian did not have to wait too long, as, within a few minutes, two other gentlemen and a lady took the remaining seats. In no particular order, they were a skinny cerulian male going by the name of Jon Fox, a heavyset dwarf by the name of Marlo Coop, and a half-lycan woman named Joanna Frye.
These three people were auspiciously famous merchants within Destia, primarily operating in Rosendun. The fourth, however, the mertian, was unknown to the three, and they could not help but cast curious glances his way. However, as they were not the hosts of this little get-together, they knew it would be rude to speak before the chesch had opened the floor.
Miote waited till they had all tried out the drinks before them, then with a warm smile, began one of the most important battles for the Hopeful Maggots. "Welcome to what I hope to be the first of many similar meetings to come. Before we begin, I would like to personally express my gratitude to the four of you for taking time out of your undoubtedly busy schedules to attend this meeting. My name is Miote, a Summoned of the Hopeful Maggots. I am sure you all are familiar with each other, but for the sake of courtesy, would you please introduce yourselves."
The skinny cerulian closest to the left of Miote scratched his long bony nose, deep sunken eyes, and jaunty cheekbones, giving the appearance of a ghoul. He introduced himself with a raspy voice. "I was born Jon Fox. Specialize in the textile industry in Rosendun."
The half-lycan next to him tapped the table with her considerably long fingernail. Though born from a lycan and a human, she retained most of her human features, with the only clues to the contrary being her bushy tail, pronounced canines, and long claw-like nails. She spoke, "Joanna Frye. Specialize in commercial transportation and correspondence."
The dwarf wiped froth off his full, brown beard as he placed the mug on the table. Typical of the rambunctious dwarfs, he oozed confidence and pride as he boomed, "Marlo Coop! Before shit hit the fan and the dog-fart Order took over, I ran the largest precious stones business in all of Destia." The man took a large swig of his drink as he complained in a low breath, "Now, I'm relegated to iron and silver." His eyes held a sharp glint as they regarded the chesch. "Hear you guys are on a conquest. I can sell the location of a couple of mines if you're interested."
Miote's default smile never shifted, preventing the dwarf from gaining any clues to his thoughts. "We'll get to that in a bit. We still have a guest who is yet to introduce himself."
The mertian glanced at Miote and then said with a soft smile, "Damah Dumm."
BOOM!
The three merchants shot off their seats, eyes wide with fear as they stared at the man before them like he was the greatest monster they had ever met.
Damah Dumm. A name most of the common folk had not heard of, nor would they. Those who knew of this name were only those like the three gathered here, the rich and powerful.
No one knew what Damah Dumm really did or specialized in, but there were rumors he had a hand in just about every business deal that went on in a day, from the sales of weapons to armies to a lady selling apples on the street for one Syros. You only came across the name Damah Dumm when a business deal clashed with his, and if it came up, it was in your best interest to drop that deal and thank your stars for Damah's leniency.
"Please, sit," Damah gestured with a smile. "I am not the host today, and it is not in my nature to steal the light."
The merchants took their seats, backs stiff and palms clammy. Still, there was evident excitement in their eyes despite their fear. No matter the purpose of Miote's meeting, they owed him a debt for introducing them to such a character. If even one of them could grab onto Damah, their business would grow exponentially in a small amount of time.
Suddenly, the Hopeful Maggots summons they agreed to out of curiosity took on a whole new level of importance. After all, any meeting the great Damah chose to attend could not be a waste of time.
Damah smiled amicably at their awkward expressions and reactions. Used to similar situations, he knew asking them to act natural would only make things worse. So instead, he sent an apologetic smile Miote's way. "I apologize. Please carry on."
Miote shook his head. "It's fine. Once again, I thank you all for coming" Although he said that, Miote could not help the shiver that ran down his spine. Not as a result of Dumm, but Muko's capabilities. He had simply asked the barman to call some top merchants for a meeting secretly.
Never, not even in his wildest dreams did he expect someone of Damah Dumm's stature to appear. Still, being surprised did not help the negotiations in any way. Miote's emotions swiftly stabilized.
Eyes steady, the chesch opened, "To start, what is a merchant?"