[2]

Harcourt was a place of wonders. Ergentein was a mostly human kingdom, but you would never know that in its capital. The architecture was a blend of all the different species that called Harcourt home. Squat stone houses built by dwarves might take up a city block, adorned and lit by Alvar arcanotech street lamps no less, only to sit right next door to a blend of tribal Beastkin etched and black metal dyed Umbrakin styled buildings. An entire district reached into the nearby forest, just for Wildlings! Though I heard they were not friendly to outsiders. Even after a week of living here, the sights around every other corner left me gaping like a fish out of water.

Until I finally found Sabine.

The sheer hate she reserved for me had been so unexpected, that I found myself not just heart-broken but also joyless at the surrounding marvels. I think deep down I knew it was the most likely outcome, yet I was reluctant to admit it. Why had I not asked my father for help? His money could have arranged for a much more pleasant and probably successful trip. I remember telling myself I needed to save Sabine on my own, to prove that I was worthy. But that was an obvious excuse, now. It was because I knew he would talk me out of it. He would have read between the lines, and I would have resented him for it.

On direct roads, it was only a month-long journey from my home village of Weston to Harcourt. The trip was even shorter if you took an arcanorail from the nearby town of Hornebolt. But we had not been sure what happened to Sabine. Saewulf was a [Ranger] by class. With him leading, we searched towns, cities, bandit camps, and beast warrens, all fruitlessly searching for my betrothed or her remains. Finally, exasperated after weeks, Saewulf suggested we try Harcourt. In hindsight, I was sure that he must have figured out that she had run by then. Sheer chance won the day when I spotted her mere hours ago on market street.

Lost in my thoughts, I became lost in the direction I was heading. After picking my way through an alley, I emerged on a grandiose paved street, painted with the icons of the gods in an assortment of colors. Temple Street was a major attraction for tourists, but I did not share their enthusiasm. Pedestrians, wagons, and animals all trod over the holy signs of the Gods. I do not consider myself devout, only giving the occasional prayer to Braystus the God of Merchants, yet still I found Temple Street to be sacrilegious.

Just as I was about to turn down Temple street to backtrack to the inn, an enormous white and gold carriage stopped me in my tracks. Alvar arcanotech carriages had made such vehicles antiquated for the rich. I suppose that was why they chose not to use them.

Two massive golden bulls pulled the carriage, hooves sparking fire with each step on the pavement. Their eyes radiated a holy white light that was reflected by their heavenly ivory horns and the precious sigils patterned on their fur. None would mistake an Er-Chal. They were the divine symbol of Erzaal, God of Nobility, Honor, and civilization. The patron God of the kingdom of Ergentein.

Which meant that whoever was in the carriage was someone important.

Emotionally drained as I was, I was of a mind to ignore the scene until my eye caught sight of the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen peering through the open window of the carriage. Shining, dark purple hair parted like a curtain to reveal a dainty porcelain colored face, with bright blue eyes that reflected the sky. She couldn’t have been more than a year older or younger than I was. My heart was in shreds, and my spirit shaken, yet still this magnificent divinity of a woman distracted me, if only for a moment.

Our eyes met as her carriage plod down the street.

I saw the briefest look of concern tug at her brow. I imagined how I must look to her. Standing at the mouth of a dark alley, covered in bedraggled clothing and dirty bandages, with a tear covered face in diametric opposition to her exquisiteness, barely containing a sadness that threatened to consume.

Concern for me lasted a fraction of a second on that beautiful face, before she graced me with a smile. A smile that said, don’t cry. The noble leaned back away from the window, momentarily disappearing, then returned exhibiting a petite white gloved hand. A flash through the air launched itself from her fingers, reflecting sunlight as it danced its way to me. Without thinking, I reached up, grabbing what she tossed me.

It was a solid gold coin.

With a coin that size, I could afford to stay at the inn for half a year. Or, I could pay my way to drive back home on a private arcanorail car and still have enough left over for a new set of clothes. If I stayed in Harcourt, it would pay for an apprenticeship with almost any tradesman. It was enough money to make all of my immediate problems go away—to make almost any common persons’ problems disappear.

And it made me absolutely fucking furious.

An icy rage descended from my stomach, spreading up my neck and onto my scalp; becoming another distraction from my misery, if not a welcome one.

I might be so hideous no one would willingly marry me. Or maybe unloveable altogether. I may even be both monetarily and emotionally broke for the moment. The world could give me it's hate, scorn, and ridicule. I would take that as I always had.

But I would not accept pity.

I was no beggar! My father was a self-made merchant that worked his way through adversity and hardship with nothing but his own wit and will. And, I, his legacy am no less hardworking or intelligent.

Even I had my pride, and that pride had just found its limit.

A sound that almost came out as a growl escaped my throat, and I stalked after the Er-Chal pulled carriage as fast as my short legs could manage. Which is to say, it left me in the dust.

All seemed lost, so I sucked in a big breath of air to scream out an obscenity to chase it in my stead, when suddenly the carriage halted. My words died, and I resumed my march forward.

Yet, before I could reach her carriage, the door swung open and a crowd of her richly dressed peers surrounded the exit. Though I was angry, my sense of self-preservation was not totally subdued. I found my feet slowing down to take in the events from a distance. It was one thing to yell at a single girl, noble or not, and quite another to yell at a bunch of high classed nobles and their probably equally classed high level guards.

The target of my ire slipped out of her vehicle, moving into the cheering and clapping group of nobles. She was about my size, so I lost sight of her amidst the towering height of regular sized people dressed in outlandish clothing.

Speaking of clothing, the high-collared white and blue dress she was wearing appeared to be ceremonial. Was it the nobles equivalent of a wedding dress? If she was my age, as I suspected, then a marriage would not be out of the question. Hopefully she would not be left waiting stupidly at the altar like I had been. I was angry, sure, but no one deserved that.

Doing my best not to draw attention, I followed behind the procession at a meandering pace. Until I reached the courtyard she’d dismounted on, I went unnoticed. A guard dressed in gleaming silver full plate spotted me, gave me a once over, but to my surprise did not otherwise move to stop me. Passive acquiescence was enough to keep me following a few dozen feet behind, though my anger had diminished a touch. Curiosity took its place—I wondered what a man that would marry such a woman might look or even be like.

It looked like they were heading for the temple of Erzaal, but to my surprise they only stopped on its steps to receive the benediction of a priest dressed in gaudy purple-gold robes. After a brief prayer that I could not hear, they walked toward the center of the plaza. It all became clear.

The Godstone!

Floating in the centre of the plaza, a shimmering metallic hollow cylinder slowly spun. Surrounding the edifice was a ring of each of the seven major gods of order. It was the ultimate gamble for any citizen of Ergentein. The laws of the stone were immovable. It did not matter if you were a commoner or a noble. Once you placed your hand on it, you would either get an ascended class or you would become a soldier on the front-lines of the Ruinlands. Few were willing to do so, because the odds were definitely not in your favor. I have heard it said that less than one in every hundred got an ascended class. My anger for the noble dissipated entirely.

Princess pity was not about to get married; she was going to risk her future by touching the Godstone! And these bastards were cheering!

What the hell!