Progenitor of Mankind.

Father and Mother of us all.

Look upon us, your children.

Ever grateful for the gift of the Inheritor.

Though your presence does not grace these mortal lands,

Your Will is preserved in his veins.

We await the day when he returns to fulfill your promise.

Roghinian Prayer

Records of the Priest Caste of Roghinia (destroyed)

“That’s the fabled G’lareyac Dragon, lord of the wingless dragons, believed to be extinct. I hope they really are extinct!” said a merchant, as he saw Aya and Bhorg by his stall. “Such a fearsome face they have. You have a good eye for wares, dear sir!” The merchant reached for the dragon mask Aya was examining. He dusted it off before presenting it to his prospective customer. “If they’re not extinct, I’m grakking sure that they won’t show their spiky faces anywhere near our empire.”

“And why is that?” Bhorg asked, although his tone indicated that he didn’t really care about the answer. His imposing shadow covered the small alley housing the merchant stall full of dragon masks.

The merchant didn’t show any signs that he was intimidated by the huge man with a hood pulled low to cover his face and a strange box strapped to his back. He gave them a friendly smile, displaying his yellowing teeth, and said, “The great First Emperor, praises be to his name, killed tons of them dragons, right? If you know a place where tons of your kind were killed you wouldn’t go there, right? I know I wouldn’t.” The merchant gave a raspy laugh as he arranged the other masks hanging by his stall.

Aya traced his fingers over the overlapping bronze barbed scales covering the mask. It wasn’t an accurate model of how the G’lareyac looked like. They should have an intricate frill of horns covered in horns, horns too numerous they were almost like a blanket of fur; at least, the two that he encountered had those. He intently at the mask and sighed. “Right, right. I should replenish my stock,” he muttered. “I should be running low after that fight.”

“Yes, sir?” the merchant said, leaning forward.

Shaking his head, Aya said, “Nothing. Um, I’m just wondering. You said that there are no more dragons in Krysperia, right, what about outside? I didn’t kil- I mean dragons are spread out across Forkspear. Where are the other dragons?”

“I wouldn’t know about that since they are mighty rare, dear sir. They do a good job of hiding themselves. Who knows, maybe they are building up their strength all these years, waiting to get their revenge.”

Revenge? Such a nonsensical goal.

Aya exhaled slowly as he turned the mask over. Memories of the day he talked with the elder dragons came back to him. Do those other dragons even know why he killed the ones living on top of the mana node? Do they even care? Sure, he was trying to take their precious mana node away from them, but the real reason came from their...conflicting opinions, to put it mildly, on how to use the mana node. Holding the mask with both hands, he tried it on his face. He could see out of the eye slits but the mask was a bit large. No matter, he wasn’t the one who was going to wear it anyway.

“The Surgan lizardmen have enslaved a few dragons, if I’m not mistaken,” Bhorg said with a slight hint of amusement in his otherwise monotonous voice. “They’re experimenting on them to add draconic traits to their spawns.”

The merchant nodded while maintaining his broad smile. “There you have it, sir customer. Surga’s such a faraway place but your friend seems to be pretty knowledgeable about it. As for me, I haven’t seen a lizardman before.”

“It’s common knowledge for people who live near Surga,” Bhorg said, “or in Surga.”

It was fortunate that Aya was trying on the mask as it covered his surprised face. The Surgans were tinkering with their own people? That’s new. Or it probably wasn’t new given that he had been asleep for so long. The Surgans he knew were people that had an incredibly strict caste system based on the different species of lizardmen compromising their country. Making new types of lizardmen, even dragon hybrid ones, was something considered immoral by the Surgans of old and destructive of the social order. Aya took off the mask and looked at with an obviously impassive face at Bhorg. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. I haven’t been anywhere near the mountains of Surga.” He tucked away a reminder in his mind that some dragons can be found in Surga.

“Ah...well then, will you buy it sir?” the merchant said, rubbing his hands together.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll buy this one.”

Aya walked out of the alley, pleased at the new mask that he bought. He ran his palm over the mask’s spiky surface and chuckled. “This thing feels ticklish,” he said, glancing back at Bhorg who as following him.

“Is that so?” Bhorg simply replied.

“You want to feel it?”

A twitching cheek cracked the stone mask that was Bhorg’s face. He raised his massive hand and reached out for the mask, extending one thick finger. He then stopped and pulled back his hand. “I’m quite sure it feels ticklish as you have said.”

“You sure? Come on, run your hands on this one.” Aya realized what he has just said and added sheepishly, “Uh... hand.”

Bhorg assured him that he was quite fine with the knowledge that Aya thinks the mask feels ticklish.

“Suit yourself. It’s quite ticklish.”

Aya and Bhorg joined the crowds traversing the main road. Bhorg did not ask where they were headed but merely followed Aya. He kept his head low so that his face would not be seen by other people, as Aya told him to. His height, on the other hand, was not something that could be hidden. It was enough for Aya that people saw him with a large man.

They walked behind a wagon. It was a simple wooden one, probably belonging to a family of pilgrims that came for this year’s festival. A festival in his honor. Or more specifically. A festival to honor his death. Supposed death, he corrected himself. He pinched his wrinkly skin.

Yep. Quite alive.

A small head poked out from the drapes covering the back of the wagon. The child stared around the wondrous capital of the most powerful empire on the whole of Forkspear; he was probably from some faraway town on the edge of the empire. He gasped as he caught sight of the odd pair following his family’s wagon. An old man with wild, white beard, stooped low, incredibly frail looking but moved as nimbly as a young man, and the largest man he has probably seen hiding his face beneath the hood of his cloak.

Aya noticed the child. He raised the dragon mask to his face with one hand while making clawing motions at the child with the other. Letting out a little squeal, the child retreated back into the wagon. Aya chuckled. “You alright back there?” he called out to Bhorg.

“Yes, I am fine.”

“Hmm, something smells good.” Aya sniffed the air a few times then veered off the main road. They entered a smaller road. The pathway was smaller because two lanes of the road were occupied by food stalls. Was this capital city also the food stall capital of Krysperia? Or was this just because there was a festival? “Smells good, right?”

“Yes, it does.”

Again with that annoying way of answering. Was Bhorg merely waiting for him to ask what he wanted? Did he think this was being polite? Aya stopped before a group of people happily eating pigminimy barbecue. “Looks like, they are having fun eating?”

“Yes, they are.” Bhorg said.

Aya gave up trying to get a more open response from Bhorg. His hints at Bhorg to treat him to some food fell flat on the pavement and was trodden upon by the crowds that enjoy the food he so wanted to eat. He wasn’t able to eat after his match earlier and wanted to eat before they do his plan that involved running across the city. Again.

The large, authentic, Roghinian warrior, had waited for him outside the mess hall at the arena, an immobile mysterious statue. He was aware of the routine of the famous tournament fighter, BasketSlayer, of eating his fill after every victory. Bhorg assured Aya that waiting would be acceptable to him and that the latter take as much as he wants to eat. Analyzing the situation, Aya surmised that he can probably get Bhorg to treat him to some food; he must know of some restaurant in the capital that serves Roghinian food. Eating the same kinds of food in the mess hall was tiring.

“Just look at all these many, many kinds of food,” Aya said. He stopped in front of a stall where a tank of squiggly worm with shining bulbs growing on its body was displayed. The bizarre product attracted the attention of a few people who were watching the vendor prepare the dish. “I wonder what that tastes like.”

Bhorg said, “Those are fructal worms. Those bulbs contain juice that tastes like a mixture of various fruits. While its preparation might be amusing to someone who hasn’t seen them before, the juice will not be a novel taste.”

So no free food then? Aya shrugged and went on walking, looking for a spot where they can talk about away from prying ears. He would have bought some himself if he didn’t use up all of his winnings to buy mana parchments. Low-quality ones were useless. He needed the ones of the highest quality to be able to accurately do his work. Didn’t that Fahllyr girl owe him more mana parchments? She had delivered some stacks of mana parchment to the villa of the Dolsworth students where he was staying but they were still lacking. He would collect when that girl comes along to challenge him again. She’s not the type who would simply give up.

A recognizable glimmer of white interrupted Aya’s solemn contemplation on whether he should leave Bhorg and return to the arena to check if there was still food. A white golem, similar to the ones guarding the temple, appeared at the far end of the street accompanied by two of those white armored warriors. He immediately made a turn for another alley, pushing people aside; the golem should not have a glimpse of him.

He checked behind him and saw that Bhorg kept up with him. Returning his attention forward, he navigated the streets away from the white golem. As far as he can tell, the warriors of the Church were not under military control. Another thing that he was sure of, something that he had gambled on actually, was that the Church would not publicize the loss of the orb—otherwise, the streets would have been crawling with the white golems that apparently have some way of seeing through the powerful enchantments that the restraint blood runes came with.

Aya did notice an increase in the crimson city guards patrolling the city after that very enjoyable night he had getting jailed and then breaking out. They were also accompanied by new golems that he hasn’t seen before; they were painted in with the same color scheme as the city guards. He tried a couple of times walking in front of one but it paid him no mind at all. They were probably of a lesser quality than the ones in the temple or they were just geared in finding void magic since a void mage sort of “attacked” one of the city guard stations a few nights ago. Either way, Aya did not concern himself with them so much.

This time was different; the white golems were outside the temple. “Those guys might have offered to help search for the void mage so that they can bring out those things,” Aya said under his breath as he scanned for any signs of more white golems. Should he continue with his plan on using Bhorg?

He probably should. Since it was funny.

The two of them emerged after weaving through the intricate network of alleys and side roads into a park at the edge of their level of the city. There doesn’t seem to be any guards around, white or red. Aya shrugged and headed for the railings running the very edge of the park, overlooking the levels below. “This seems to be a good place to talk. Sorry for walking such a long way.”

“I understand that there are some people you don’t want to meet.”

“Yes, yes. Those pesky golems can see through my disguise you see,” Aya said pointing at his face. “I don’t know why there are more of those golems around, there seem to be some problems in this city. Do you know about it?”

Bhorg shook his head. “I noticed that there are more soldiers deployed but I do not know the reason.”

“Well, part of it might probably because of our handshake, right? Or it might be because of your friend causing that explosion.”

“Ah…” Bhorg was visibly rattled by his suggestion.

“Don’t worry about it,” Aya said. Bhorg might have orders not to expose himself while their little Roghnian squad did their Roghinian stuff. Whatever it was, these Roghinians have some business in this city that they don’t want others to know about. “I doubt it was because of that tiny explosion she caused in an empty alley. I am thankful for that. I really don’t want any type of close scrutiny from the authorities in this city.”

“I hope I am not closely scrutinizing you as well.”

Aya merely raised a brow and then looked over the side of their city level. Three more levels were below them, an enormous urban sprawl, proof of the wealth and power amassed by the empire of Krysperia for hundreds of years. Empires rise and fall with time, but this one was still on its upwards climb to greatness with no limit in sight. Such was the blessings of the mana node. “Such a wonderful city isn’t it. I’m sure that their founder, Krystfallen, is happy with all of this,” he said as he gestured over the city below.

“The Inheritor surely is a great man,” Bhorg said, his voice filled with conviction.

“The Inheritor?”

“The First Emperor of Krysperia. Krystfallen, the Inheritor of the Will of the Progenitor of Mankind.”

“Oh.” Aya raised his brow as he looked off, staring into the distant mountains ringing the imperial capital, wonderful winds whipping his cloak. He learned something new again. “Is that your title for him?”

“Ye-yes.” Bhorg had a confused look on his face. His mouth opened as if to say something, then he changed his mind and closed his mouth.

Aya sensed that Bhorg was doubting his story of being a Surgan. It seemed that Surgans should know about these things—Roghinians were on the other side of their mountain, they were probably the humans that the lizard people come into contact most often. With a penchant for weaving tales instantly, Aya decided to use the facts that Bhorg had told him earlier. “As you may have already realized, I am a new spawn.” Encouraged by the confirmatory nod of Bhorg, he continued, “A new type of spawn. I haven’t been around for a year yet, actually. My knowledge is severely limited when it comes to the lands surrounding Surga. The knowledge implanted in me is only specific for my mission here in Krysperia. Bet you’re surprised to see one strolling around right?”

Bhorg seemed to have been expecting this sort of situation. He held both of his arms in front of him, knuckle to the stump of his severed arm, and bowed forward, letting his forehead touch his fist. “Greetings Elder Saurianziir. I hope this simple Roghinian warrior is not a nuisance to your mission.”

The actions of Bhorg were quite similar to how the Surgans pray, if Aya recalled correctly. The correct form should have touching knuckles, but that was something that Bhorg couldn't do at the moment. Did it become a formal salute of some sort to high-ranking Surgans? “No, no, of course not. I was quite happy you have provided me with some distraction. My mission here is quite boring. It was fortunate that we met each other. Imagine my surprise when I met a Moltencore Roghinian warrior sneaking around here. Not as simple a warrior as you make yourself out to be.”

“Elder Saurianziir, I also have a mission here. But that is already obvious to you, an esteemed ranking Surgan,” Bhorg said. He was not in any way uncomfortable that Aya was hinting that they were doing something secretive in Krysperium. On the contrary, there was an expression of relief on his face.

The Roghinian was guessing his position in Surga! Aya chuckled as he finally understood why Bhorg was speaking in a weird way earlier, giving short responses. He was waiting for Aya to slip some clues as to his rank in the complex society of Surga. It is extremely impolite to ask a Surgan what his rank was because everyone was expected to know that, even outsiders, since the different castes have distinct appearances; the Surgans were irrationally strict about this, so it applies even if said lizardman was fully covered or disguised. It was also impolite to ask for his rank indirectly. To Bhorg’s mind, he was successful in his gamble of calling Aya an “Elder Saurianziir”- elder in the sense of having a higher rank than normal Saurianziirs since according to his story he was specifically made, and not a Saurianziir born from an egg. “Why aren’t you calling me ‘Aya’?”

“But Elder—”

“I permit you to call me Aya. I saw this name in my research connected to what I am supposed to do here. It’s not a Roghinian name, right?”

“I haven’t heard of such a name in my country before. I can recommend Roghinian names to Elder Saurianziir.”

“It’s fine. I read it off an ancient book. Roghinia wasn’t probably around when that person was given that name.” Aya turned around to the spectacular expanse of the city below him. He then gazed back at the towering heights of the city above him, squinting a bit because of the sun’s glare. “This city hasn’t been founded when that name was given to that man. Forgive me for being a bit repetitive, but this is such a wonderful city, don’t you think?”

“Indeed, it is,” Bhorg said.

“It’s unfortunate that the people here have ancient prejudices against others not their kind. I haven’t seen a non-human, even a half-breed, among their populace. I suppose that explains why I don’t want my disguise to be uncovered. Imagine their surprise if one of the lizard people won their tournament.”

“Elder Saurianziir intends to win the tournament?”

The Roghinian was still calling him 'Elder Saurianziir' and not 'Aya'. Nice following instructions, Aya thought sarcastically. “Yes, I believe it will be helpful for my purposes if I win and gain the affection of the people here.” Aya faced Bhorg and examining his eyes beneath his hood, a sly smile off his face. “I think it’s about time you tell me what you require of me.”

Aileen struggled to keep her face from scowling as the nobles who met with her said their farewells and bowed their way out of the room. She sat straight on her chair and gave them, what she considered a regal wave. Trying to be like Jel was proving difficult for her. Jel had a knack dealing with people.

Especially this kind of people.

The nobles came from lesser merchant houses based outside Krysperium. Most likely, they visited the capital to bet on the games- as most people with money did, it being considered legal gambling. They were also high-ranking members of the council of the powerful merchant guild that span across Krysperia. Exactly how high-ranking they were Aileen did not pay attention to, nor did she care. Obviously, they were high-ranking enough to think that they should introduce themselves and pay their respects to the third child of the head of the Fahllyr family.

Raising his head, the lead merchant noble said, “We are grateful for having the pleasure of meeting with you Lady Fahllyr. I think all of us here is of the same mind that you will become a great warrior.”

“That is what is expected of me,” Aileen said.

“Thank you once again for your time. We are exceedingly obliged to you, Lady Fahllyr.” Spreading his stubby fingers adorned with multiple ornate rings with large gems that it looked like he was wearing gauntlets, the merchant backed out of the door while facing Aileen.

Aileen slumped down her chair as the door closed. “What an annoying bunch. Jel should be the one dealing with them.”

“Um...um...I’m sorry,” Quill said. Her straight reddish-brown hair covered half her face. Her eye that was uncovered stared at the ground.

“What are you sorry for?” Aileen had almost forgotten that Quill was standing by her side. Darl had forced her to take Quill with her to the arena, a suggestion that Jel had eagerly supported. Which was the reason Quill becoming her companion in watching the arena fights instead of Jel.

“Be-because you were supposed to come with Jel. An-and instead you have me.”

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s good that we have some time to bond. We’re family after all.”

Quill smiled timidly and raised her head. “I en-enjoyed wa-watching the fight today.”

“That’s good.” Aileen tried to give her a friendly smile in return. Apparently, it was not as friendly a smile as she thought because Quill immediately dropped her gaze and went back to staring intently at the floor. Aileen turned her head to the side Quill won’t see her rolling her eyes. Why did they make Quill go with her? Aileen stood up and held out her hand.

“Wha-? Oh! Sorry.” Quill nearly fumbled in handing Aileen her sword.

“Thank you,” Aileen said, smiling once again. She intended to be as friendly as possible, although that was not a trait that she was famous for. She stood up and attached the sword to her belt. A full black leather armor was her usual attire when she goes out of the temple. Although she wore the crest of the Fahllyr’s on her metallic shoulder guard, the leather armor she wore was not a standard armor used by her family, rather, she made had it custom made, patterned after the ones used by the soldiers of the West System. The West System, the defense of Krysperia against the horrors of the Blighted Multitude- being assigned there was Aileen’s dream. Perhaps she could join one of those brave expeditions sent out by the empire into the gray desert. Who knew, maybe she’ll be the one who would discover the way of finally eradicating the Blight threat? She shook her head. There she goes dreaming about heroics—maybe Darl was right. She turned to Quill and said, “I hope you were not uncomfortable with wearing your armor this whole time?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Quill said as she looked down on her armor- a full plate armor; it was the armor they usually wear when on duty in the temple. Of course, Quill didn’t put on the vests with holy symbols that goes with the armor.

“You didn’t have to wear that, you know.”

“Bu-but, Jel always wears one too when the two of you go out of the temple.”

“Jel has a leather armor like mine. She asked for one to be made for her when she learned about mine. I don’t know why.”

“Maybe, it’s because wearing a dress while your companion wears an armor will look weird?” Quill said. She caught sight of Aileen’s frowning face and immediately bowed down her head, her curtain of hair covered her eyes. “So-sorry.” Quill opened the door.

Aileen closed her eyes for a few seconds then started another topic. “So what did you think about the fight?” She went out followed by Quill.

Quill said, “Um, it was interesting. I was surprised to see the new Gaomant weapon. If it would be developed further, we could progress from manacylinders in supplying far away troops.”

“That is true. No need to lug around giant power supplies.”

“Ye-yes. That was what I was thinking,” Quill said as she nodded vigorously. “Also, also, normal people can actually fight like mages. I think that is awesome.”

“Well, that is true, that is possible with that thing. I was really surprised that it can extract mana from its surroundings. That thing won’t be as effective if they are to be used outside Krysperium.”

“Still. I think it’s awesome that even normal people can have the chance to have that sort of power.”

“Should they be given such chance?” Aileen twisted her mouth.

“Yes!” Quill jerked back, surprised at how loud she replied. “So-sorry. I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

Aileen simply shrugged. She never realized that Quill felt so strongly about the power disparity among the people. For her, that was simply a given. People aren’t equal and they won’t be. That was a fact. Those who have power have the duty to use their powers righteously and they shouldn’t take advantage of those that do not have. But to actually distribute power? It was surprising for a Fahllyr to have these thoughts. Was this what Darl wanted her to do? To know about other family members? “How about that black robed guy who ballooned himself? What do you think about him?”

Quill visibly heaved a sigh of relief when Aileen did not get angry at her. “He’s, um, kind of weird.”

“Weird is an understatement.”

“He also fights in a weird way.”

“You got that right,” Aileen replied dryly. "Weird is the proper way of describing him."

“Are you acquainted with him?”

“Sort of acquainted…I guess.”

Quill said, excitedly, “Ooh, how did you meet him? I don’t even know anyone from outside Krysperia.”

Aileen stifled a giggle. Quill was behaving like Jel. Did she put her up to this? Maybe there’s a Jel training center somewhere. She said, “I met him strolling in the temple. I also fought with him.” She paused. Why did she add that last part?

“Who won?”

Aileen did not answer. She walked faster, going out of the arena. People gave way to the two Fahllyr ladies, almost everyone knew their noble lineage. Even people who wanted to talk to them backed away upon seeing Aileen’s sour face.

“Um. So-sorry for asking,” Quill said, jogging to keep up with her, her plate mail rattling.

“I did not win, obviously. He’s in the semi-finals of the tournament, that means he’s strong. And it looks like he’s just playing around,” Aileen said. “I’m not angry at you. I’m just pissed off at how our fight ended.”

“How did it—?” Quill immediately dropped her head down when Aileen turned to her. “He is strong, really stro-strong. You shouldn’t feel bad at losing to him,” she said softly. “I don’t know if I’m in a position to say that but based on his fight he really is strong.”

Aileen scolded herself. Why was she in such a bad mood on her first time together with Quill? She should be a role model, a strong sisterly figure, guiding Quill down the path of strength and such. Not that she was far along the path of strength. She patted Quill’s head and said, “Yes, you’re right. I’m no match for him at all. It was just I lost in such an embarrassing way.” Vomiting after getting punched—but Quill did not need to know about that.

“Are we going back to the temple now?”

Aileen looked around her. “I intended to look for that black robed idiot after his fight but those annoying merchants held me up. I don’t think he’s around here anymore.”

“I could ask around where he went.”

“No need for that. I know where he lives. I actually wanted to have another fight with him here in the arena. He probably already went home.”

Quill said, “So we’re going back to the temple?”

Quill’s somewhat gloomy tone made Aileen change her mind. Didn’t she always tell Darl to tell Quill to mingle with the Fahllyrs more? And doesn’t she mostly go out with just Jel? She looked down black armor. “How about we get you a leather armor as well? I don’t think you have one. Not a lot of people share my hobby of collecting different kinds of armor.”

“N-n-no,” Quill blurted out. She then covered her mouth, seemingly wondering if it would be impolite to reject Aileen’s offer. “Bu-but, that would be expensive. A full leather armor.”

“We’re not getting an enchanted one from the manaforges. I don’t like that place anyway. Let’s just get you a high quality from the store where I had my own made.”

The color of the half of Quill’s face uncovered by hair matched the curtain of hair covering the other side of her face. She was visibly embarrassed but also pleased at Aileen’s suggestion.

Encouraged by Quill’s reaction, Aileen went on, “Let’s order one that would match mine and Jel’s. When we go out the temple, the three of us could wear them. We would look like some sort of special squad.”

“Thank you,” Quill managed to stammer.

“The place where I had my armor made is on the level below this one. We have to walk a bit, but it’s nice to walk and stretch our legs. We're always cooped up in the temple.”

“Wouldn’t that take a while to get below? Our duties…”

“Yeah, Jel might get angry. But let’s not worry about that.” Aileen grabbed Quill’s hand. “We could run if you want.”

Quill barely nodded before Aileen dragged her along as they ran towards the direction of the gate leading to the city level below them.