Chapter 3: The Journey Begins

Hooo boy, 15547 words in this one. I almost split it in half, but when I was half way through this chapter RRL was hit by DDoS or something. So, now I get to dump a huge chapter on you guys. ~

The road to Corrin will take us east until we reach the Condric river that the Capital city is named after. The Condric river flows from the north and bends through the valley where the city of Corrin lies.

Corrin was originally its own kingdom ruled by a Kridimirt monarch. Through a marriage between the Corrin and Condric Kingdoms the heir from this relationship became the ruler between the two nations. This brought together the Kridimirts of the north with the Ordumirts in the south to integrate into the current Condrican Kingdom.

The southernmost lands are also mostly Kridimirts who settled along the long Vala River the Condrican flows into. So, the Condrican Kingdom always had significant Kridimirt influence; however, now the Kridimirt influence within the Kingdom’s nobility is a Kridimirt majority.

I can guess that bringing me to the north is an effort for the northern faction to gain more power. However, it does seem like Varrel and Esken are not be too pleased that I am an Ordumirt.

Being a low born Ordumirt already tries the patience of Varrel and Esken. In order to avoid setting off any tempers I experiment in ways to appease the two. The water I gathered and magically filtered gives me use during our breaks, though they did not know I could magic filter water. I also have a hatchet to quickly prepare branches for a fire. The two knights were using their hands to snap the branches before.

Judging by their outdoorsman skills I can tell why they are grouchy, being sent into the wilds to fetch some Ordumirt low born is not something they are excited about. I busied myself with more roles and walked into the woods. Here I gathered edible plants I knew of along with roots, fruits that were ripe and not rotten, and edible mushrooms.

This will improve our meal diversity and reduced the amount of our preserved food stocks we consumed. My father taught me most of these skills during the last years when he knew I would be sent away. These skills are commonly taught among the villagers so, I was not suspicious of it.

Later in the day when Varrel and Eskan stopped to set up for the night I planned to wash their spare clothing with my own, they pushed their doubt aside to see how well I can do. By flowing water through the cloth fibers I can wash away much of the dirt and dried sweat. However, grease is difficult to clean out without using tallow soap.

I handed back their clothing after I experimented with some different ways to separate grease and to dry out the fabric.

“Acceptable work for a Ferrel.”

The comments sound rough; I feel they are wary to give praise. I am actually fine with that, I always faced praise awkwardly.

During the day we travel in silence, riding through the autumn woods as leaves of yellow and orange begin to fall. There are a few evergreen pine trees mixed into the forest, creating a collage of colours.

The sound of birds and rodents fill the woods as the fluttering sound of leaves land with crisp retorts. I can feel a sense of serenity in the valley as we continue east along a dirt road. It will take us at least two weeks to leave the valley and reach the Condric River so, I resolve myself to enjoy the scenery of the valley I grew up in.

Within the two weeks we arrived at the Condric River two days earlier than expected. I would not want to overemphasize my efforts; however, I helped reduce time spent setting up camp and food. We could rest and continue the journey because of that saving a few hours each day.

As we exit the thick forest of Ferrel Valley the wide fields north of Condrica open up. I can even see where the Condric River flows. Following the dirt road, we group we crest over a hull to see a village that stood along the river, it runs ferry crossings and is the intersection between different roads. From what I have learned, this village of Len is a central hub and rest stop between Corrin and Condrica.

Varrel and Esken hurried their Bulims into the village towards an Inn.

“Time for proper rest.” Varrel said as he stretched his back out. Sleeping outside is certainly not their fancy, although I had never slept outside until this journey either.

“Woodcutter boy, you’ll be in the same room as I.” Varrel continued to say.

I doubt at this point he remembers my name, first impressions are very important after all. So, I am now woodcutter boy, prospective hero! I should not feel proud of this title but I am really bored.

We enter inside the Inn and Esken approaches the Innkeeper first who bows. She orders a room for herself and takes her baggage upstairs with the key. Her baggage is large enough that I can only see the back of her head and the bags held over her shoulder reached down to the back of her knees. One of those bags was enough to flatten me on my back.

Varrel had ordered his room while I dreaded the thought of being crushed by baggage, while walking to the stairs leading to our room he said to me, “You should be fine on the floor.”

I can not help feel annoyed by his words, I made enough money at the village that I could stay in a room for a very long time. A room is ten copper billets, the billet is about the size of a pinky finger and is a long thin rectangle with four even sides.

The billets have stamped markings on it to identify its origin and minter. Billets can be melted down and used for other purposes; however, they are used as a trade currency. Copper has a low value compared with the silver and gold billets.

There are also some other billets of different materials, in the village the two most common billets are copper and white copper. White copper is similar to silver in appearance, but duller and often used for making utensils and wind pipes for music.

One gold is worth over ten silver billets; silver billets are worth twenty white copper billets. The white copper billets are only worth three coppers, white copper is mostly made from copper and nickel.

The exchange prices vary depending on the price of the metal so, billets are made within standards to regulate trade. The minting of these standard billets vary between different mints.

The Condrican Mint is owned by the nobility and had merged with the Corrin Mint to produce a standard Condrican Billet. In an attempt to decrease the incentive for people to shave the billets down, there are markings carved along the billet’s six sides.

In total I have earned a fair amount from selling my liquor recipes and I became popular with some merchants who were looking for new products. From these sales I accumulated a total of two gold, ten silvers, thirty white copper, and thirty copper billets.

My billet bag is the heaviest item on me because of this. While a billet is small, having over fifty of them is not light. Yet, for an eight year old I am very wealthy! For the effort I put into making money I would not need to to work very hard to live a comfortable life producing liquor and potions.

I did not dwell on that for very long, if I am going to become a hero I should at least try to avoid becoming a corrupt one. Well, I will probably make a lot of billets as a good healer. I doubt the likelihood that I would be in a full suit of armour fighting hordes of monsters like some of the stories I have heard.

I had been thinking about this after I entered the bedroom. I remove my pack and place it in a corner along with my outer coat. I needed to dry off from all the layers I wore during the journey. Fortunately we were riding on mounts, had we walked I would be much sweatier and sore.

The room we rented has a small fireplace, Varrel gives me the task of setting it up and maintaining it while he left to walk downstairs. I do not know exactly what he is going to do down there, drinking, eating, and socializing maybe.

The fireplace has a cage to prevent large pieces of hot coals from falling out and there is a stone floor around it to prevent the wooden floor from burning. The day continued to grow late and I became hungry. Varrel gave a very serious expression when ordering me to stay put in this room.

“Maybe he does not want me to run around talking about their mission?” I thought to myself.

I am not sure if there would be any kind of trouble or if the Order of Ilowa has rivals who want to undermine to intercept their recruitment efforts. I do not know what kind of rivalries there are and how competitive they are with each other. I can understand that Varrel and Esken do not want to create a scene, parading a hero candidate around may not be a good idea.

I would have been comfortable staying in the room on the floor, I grew up sitting on a wooden floor at home. However, I the hunger bothered me and I did not want to eat my preserved food. Sitting next to the fire and watching the flames is enough to distract me from my stomach.

After nightfall, Varrel opened the door to the room and Esken entered behind him.

“Here, some food from the inn’s kitchen.” Varrel handed over a bag, it was filled with a meal of two fruits, cold cooked meat, and half a loaf of grain bread.

Inside the room are a wooden chair and stool, Varrel grabbed the stool and sat on it while Esken sat on the chair.

“Good to see you didn’t leave.” Esken commented.

Varrel added, “I have heard from a few other knights who had gathered candidates complain about how restless you kids can get when they become a candidate.”

“Gregor did try to hype me up about it.” I replied. I feel like asking if that neglect was a test or something.

Having me run off could be a relief for them.

“That adventurer has been sucking up for a promotion, he was always trying to tell us about the progress he has made against the goblins.” Varrel continued to say, “yet the entire reason he discovered you was because he ran into an ambush.”

“Must be the fate Ilowa has for him.” Esken replied with a smirt of sarcasm.

Varrel leaned forward, directing his eyes towards me, “I don’t know how much they talked up your abilities, they sent us all the way down here so, even if you cannot do what they said we are still ordered to bring you. Our time is already wasted, I will let them test you when we arrive.”

Esken pitched in by saying, “From what we know, you can heal wounds very efficiently. That alone was enough for our Order to move. So, if you prove useful and can learn well then they will keep you around.”

“Since you can read well enough, you have a leg up over the illiterate bumpkins. That makes you a literate bumpkin.” Varrel smirked. “So, don’t do anything foolish and you will get to study in Corrin and learn more than if you stuck around that village.”

I had wondered at what point in our journey they would brief me on what their plans are. I had lots of time to think about the possibilities; however, it just seems like their plan is simply to take me to Corrin for their evaluation and to see what I can provide in the long term. They do not seem too upset about me, the journey has made the two grouchy.

Esken left the room for her own room. Varrel took off his extra clothing layers and crawled into his bed as I gather the spare blankets to set up a better sleeping spot. The fireplace crackled as the coals to die down. While it is not as comfortable as my bed was back home, I did not have difficulty falling asleep. This is more comfortable than kind of sleep I had on the journey here, this room is warm and sheltered after all.

The morning light shone through the window against my face to rouse my senses. My chilled face felt the warmth, my eyes were dry, and I feel the need to relieve my bladder. I was, after all, stuck inside this room for a long time.

I folded the blanket up before I walked out the room to find a place to go. Fortunately, I had noticed the outhouse when we arrived, it is a short distance outside the Inn. The building has multiple rooms inside for privacy and the smell of urine and feces was not too strong.

Inside one of the smaller rooms is a seat built against the wall with a hole that empties into a larger container underground. The unpleasant job of cleaning this crosses my mind.

After doing my business I notice the access hatch on the ground beside the small building where the worker would shovel the waste out. It would be an important job to keep the smell and miasma down but it would be a foul job.

To change my mindset, I turned around to appreciate the Inn’s surroundings as I walk back to the Inn’s entrance. The village buildings are lined up along a crude stone road. This stone road follows the route north to south with enough width between the houses for shrubs to grow and fill the gaps between the buildings.

Some of the buildings nearby are not homes but workshops and stores, it as a little too early for these places to be open for business. The housing is mostly located along the side and back roads, which are packed dirt. I can see from where I stand that the homes have small gardens and animal pens in their yards.

In the outskirts along the hills I can see a few fields, larger farms, and pastures The animals are beginning to roam and graze while the farmers are finishing up thier breakfast. The Inn itself has begun stoking the fire for their kitchen and I caught the smell of cooking meat.

I enter into the Inn and walk passed the dining area. A few of the patrons staying are already sitting at a table waiting for their meal, their conversations are too quiet to hear. From their appearance, these people have worn traveling clothes, most of their equipment is likely still in their room.

I can see a few swords and daggers sheathed at their waists, either a habit or they feel they may have to fight. I am not sure if a fight would breakout at this time, even during the night I could not hear anyone getting rowdy and starting a fight. One of the Inn staff noticed me, she looked my way without recognizing me, Varrel did not want me leaving the room earlier so I was not acquainted with anyone. It would be best to return without starting any conversations, I do not want to cause any problems.

“Where have you been?”

As I enter Varrel’s room, he had begun to get out of bed, his question came with a cold look.

“Bathroom,” I replied.

Varrel let out a short breath and rose up onto his feet, he tied the neck of his cloth shirt, placed his feet into his boots and walked to the door.

“Keep watch.”

He said before leaving the room. Probably to use the bathroom as well. He certainly slept better this night than the other nights on the road.

“Maybe he’s in a good mood now?” The thought crossed my mind.

I began to work on organizing and preparing my equipment to leave. If i delay our departure then the favour I have built may be wasted. Keeping watch felt pretty pointless, I suppose if someone wanted to steal then a knight would be a good target.

Varrel returned to the room and he took notice of my preparation. He lifted an eyebrow, I am not sure what that meant; however, it does not look like he is upset about my actions. He picked his baggage up and made himself ready before he walked to the door. He waved me to follow.

Varrel approached the room Esken is staying in and knocked on the door, “Esken, its Varrel, we will be in the diner.”

With that he continues toward the staircase to go downstairs. The number of people has not changed while the kitchen’s warmth and smell has spread into the dining area. Varrel picked a small round table with four stools and sat on one. He placed his sack down beside himself.

I took the stool on his left and placed my pack at the stool’s base. In order to seat myself I had to climb the stool and my feet dangled far from the floor. The waitress I had seen from earlier approached us and Varrel spoke to her with his order, “three breakfast stews and a bread loaf.”

He places ten copper billets on the table. Three copper for each soup and one for the bread I assume. It did not take long for the waitress to arrive carrying a large tray with three wooden bowls of steaming stew and a round loaf of brown bread. Three wooden spoons came along with the tray.

The waitress balanced the tray on one arm as she places each bowl, the spoons, and the bread on the table. The stew is too hot to eat right away. While I waited, Varrel tore the bread in two, placing half next to Esken’s bowl and the other half for himself. I did not want to ask for any of the bread seeing as the stew bowl was large enough to fill me.

The bread’s taste made me curious, I had seen bread before as part of the adventurer’s rations. However, for the village in Ferrel, we did not grow the grain needed for bread. There are plenty of fields in this river valley that would be able to grow the grains needed. It was late autumn the fields are all worked and straw bushels are being dried in the fields.

Varrel tore bread pieces off to dip into his hot stew’s broth, that is useful to know, it would be better than waiting for it to cool. From behind I can hear heavy footsteps and a heavy sack dropped to my left. Esken had arrived, she sat herself on the stool across from Varrel, she began to grab her bread to tear dipping pieces off. I now feel more hungry.

I stir the stew to help cool it, within the stew are thick vegetables, soft cooked roots, and chunks of meat. Raising a spoonful out and blowing on it I can catch a smell from it, there are herbs mixed inside but the aroma was faint.

When part of it was cool enough I sampled a spoonful, it is still hot. I found the taste to be bland, the broth was thick from whatever grains are ground inside to thicken it up. I can tell that it would be filling.

As I continue to slowly work at my stew I notice a few of the other patrons looking our way, likely due to Varrel and Esken who clearly are identifiable as knights. No words are spoken by us during the meal.

Once my meal was cool enough I began to feast with mouth fulls of stew at a time. With food in our stomachs we left the inn for the stables to fetch the Bulims to load our luggage onto. I then realised I could have just used heat magic to draw the heat out of the stew.

Before we left, Varrel and Esken stopped by the morning market stalls, we needed fourteen days of food, even though we can find places to eat along the way the two knights seemed like they wanted to hurry their journey.

They began to sort out provisions of bread, dried meats, fruit, and vegetables. I decided to personally buy some smoked river fish jerky as a snack along the way. While doing this the herb dealer caught my attention, I began to look through his wares and sorting through the herbs. I held them to feel their texture, observing the colour, and smelling their aroma. The Merchant took note of this.

“You seem familiar with herbs boy. I havn’t seen you around here.” the merchant commented as he learned in.

“I worked with an herbalist in Ferrel.”

“Ohh? Darren perhaps? I often fetch my best herbs from him.”

“Yes, he taught me much.”

“Well, I don’t think my herbs will be as fresh as his are.” the merchant laughed.

“The ferrel herbs maybe, your other herbs like the lilock and hollip are fresher than Darren’s old stock.” I replied.

“Indeed, I do get fresher shipments from Perg and Leben as merchant venture north from the south.”

The price and quality of the lilock and hollip are good and the merchant provides a generous price while we talk. The hollip herb is a good disinfectant, you do not want to eat it; however, ground into a paste and applied to wounds it works very well to prevent infections.

The lilock is a small blue flower gathered from a shrub that gives a good fragrance that calmed the nerves. In concentrated amounts it can cloud the mind. Lilock is often dried and mixed into charcoals, when set on fire and the flame is blown out the coal will glow red while releasing smoke.

The lilock smoke will spread around and help calm the mood of a room. Or, through pressing many lilock flowers, its oil can be extracted it easily dries while releasing a vapour. When the vapour is inhaled through the nose it will produce a powerful effect very quickly. This is an expensive narcotic that mostly wealthy nobles will pay for. Many lilock flowers are needed for a drop of oil.

I decided to stock up on one silver billet worth of these. The merchant is clearly surprised I am paying that much, investing one silver billet into lilock and hollip will be useful. The result is that I have two bags the size of my head filled with lilock or hollip.

While the hollip has some medicinal use I have some intention to experiment with the lilock on different recipes and uses in potion brewing. I can find other herbs in the bushes and fields; however, lilock grows in the south and is imported north through Leben.

We measured the weight against standardized lead weights that represent what they call Eubo. Each bag containes five Eubo of lilock or hollip. As I tie the bags onto straps on my backpack which was hung onto Esken’s Bulim I caught a glimpse of Varrel raising an eyebrow my direction again. He did not raise any questions about what I am buying and continued to stock up the bags on his Bulim. We soon mounted again and followed the improved stone road north.

Two days of travel has brought us along the road to an opening that overlooks the Condric river along with various cleared fields and small homes. Beyond the valley stone fangs in the rise over the hills in the distance, from what I have read these must be the lower Kainran Fang mountains.

The mountain range runs north, on its eastern side lays the Ordumar Valley that opens up from our eastern approach where the lower Kainran Fangs end. It is said that the first Ordumirt King, Ordumar, ruled the valley as the Mirt races began to settle south into Valdera.

Now, the Ordumar Valley is occupied by small tribes of Ordumirts, Goblins, and other monsters. The Kainran Fangs are home to many monster lairs. To the east of the Ordumar Valley is the great Heilow Barrier, a wide and tall mountain barrier.

So great is this wall of stone that its peaks are just visible from the mouth of the Ordumar Valley and nearly impossible to cross. Traveling further south to the Berra mountains is the only sane way to travel east from here.

I notice Varrel and Esken’s expressions change as we pass by a farm house near the road. Their faces show relief. The house is built in a different style from what I am accustom to. The roof in particular is not covered in bark shingles, but wood shingles. This resulted in a cleaner roof with less moss or lichens growing.

The farming land is also divided differently, I can tell that the farmers around here are more organized. Eventually, as we travel further along the valley I saw a local farmer and I noticed by his ears he is a Kridimirt.

This part of the Condrican kingdom must be where the Corrin Kingdom began, Varrel and Esken are much closer to home. While the land did not change much, the people and organization certainly did, switching from Ordumirt nobles to Kridimirt nobles. The Kridimirt nobles are more strict and agricultural than the Ordumirts who continue to work as hunters and gatherers.

Ordumirt farmers are still catching up to the Kridimirts who gained their experience developing their settlements along rivers and plain farmlands compared to Ordumirts who prefered to live in the woods and hills.

I had learned from the Ferrel Valley adults my father socialized with. They spoke of what they knew about politics, especially the information about border tension that may result in war or conflicts between rival counts within the newly merged Condrican Kingdom. While I recall these stories we pass down the valley near the river, the sound of the Condric River is muffled by the trees.

The rustling of yellow and orange leaves rattle in the air, yet it was more quiet than normal. As I notice this I could feel Esken was alert more than usual, Varrel as well has a sharp look in his eyes.

Bending around the path I hear the sound of the river grow and a bridge comes into view. There is a broken wagon. Varrel and Esken draw their swords and continue their approach while mounted. The bridge crossing is a fork, continuing north will continue along the main stone path, the bridge ahead crosses the Condrican river. The bridge is large and made with stone supports with a solid wooden crossing, it is important enough to have a guard’s station build next to the bridge.

However, the guard post is quiet.

Approaching closer I see a few bodies lying around the busted wagon, arrows are impaled on the bodies. Varrel dismounted and Esken stayed put scanning the area. He first approaches the corpses, one has chain armour worn over leather. Most likely the guard stationed here, the others may have been merchants or villagers carrying their goods. The wagon was wrecked and the goods are taken along with the animal pulling it. Varrel tore out one of the arrows to examine it.

“Koblins” he spoke.

His eyes then looked towards the bridge, I can even see some visible signs of grain flour spilled in small piles along the bridge. A sign showing the attackers crossed the bridge with their plunder.

“It is rare for Koblins to cross the river to raid.” Esken commented.

Varrel frowned before replying, “They must have stalked this wagon and attacked as it crossed.”

At that moment, I felt something was suspicious. I dismounted from Esken’s Bulim.

“Boy, get back on the Bulim.” Varrel ordered in a stern voice.

Taking a closer look at the bodies, the arrows do not match up with the story. I had practiced with the bow a little with my father and the farther an arrow is fired the more it angles downwards before entering the target. These arrow wounds are fired from close range. I looked to Varrel and responded, “You believe the Koblins attacked from the other side of the river?”

Varrel’s face hardened, he may have suspected the same as I did.

I continue to look at the arrow wounds while asking, “Are Koblins accurate with a bow?”

“Very, they skulk and take surprise shots.” Varrel replied.

“These arrows must have came from this side of the river.”

I pointed to the arrow wounds entering on the left side of the villagers before raising my finger to the right of the bridge where trees and bushes lie.

Esken dismounted and walked towards the bush line, she stopped at the edge of the stone road before saying, “Koblin tracks, they must have crossed the river downstream before ambushing.”

I walked closer to the wagon where I saw what was left in it, clothes, fabrics, plates, bowls, and a collection of cheap items a family may have some sentimental value for. The bodies are of a family, I spoke up.

“I think this family was moving, they had their food and animals taken but the rest of these items are possessions from a home.”

Varrel clicked his tongue, “tch, a siege.”

“What?” I asked.

Esken replied to me as she sheathed her sword, “Koblins cut off escape during their large raids to catch people fleeing. It was morning not to long ago, if this attack happened in the night then they are trying to delay alarming our guards. That means the Koblins are preparing a raid on a larger town.”

“Calbin.” Varrel said under his breath as he looked north east, the same direction as the Lower Kainran Fangs.

“Well?” Esken asked Varrel.

Varrel Sheathed his sword, “If we head to Corrin we will be able to send word but it is over two week’s ride for a Bulim. Travelers will stumble across this today as well, it is not our place to run. I will leave a message here, mount up we will ride to Calbin.”

“What about the boy?” Esken replied.

“We may find out how good of a healer he is.” Varrel spoke over his shoulder as he searched for something to make a note with.

Varrel finished pinning his notice onto the guard station before he mounted onto his Bulim. We crossed the bridge while maneuvering around the damage wagon. The bridge is long and would take about fifty paces to cross, it needed three stone supporting pillars placed into the river to keep it up.

It is a sturdy bridge and the river was not rough here making it a safe crossing. It can only fit one wagon with room for half a wagon on the side, two Bulims side by side easily fit.

The mood was tense as Varrel and Esken are vigilant of any further attacks. The road running north east became dirt and would run for about a week before we would reach Calbin.

The week we spent traveling to Calbin is surprisingly quiet, if the Koblins would venture that far to the river to attack then I was certain that we would run into an ambush. The nights are becoming cold and we often did not maintain a fire during the night to avoid detection. The cold nights were tense, I asked Varrel and Esken about the Koblins, I do not know much about them since there are mostly Goblins the local adventurers faced.

Koblins are grouped together with the Goblins classified as similar races with the three ‘lin races being the Goblins, Koblins, and Orclins. Koblins are characterized by having fur on most of their body along with a light and lean frame. Koblins are well developed for long distance travel, pursuing their prey through a contest of endurance rather than speed.

Compared with the pale and hunched goblins, koblins are much more adapted to being outside. While both can use bows and spears, koblins have greater eyesight while being outside and koblins stand more erect than goblins, providing greater ability for drawing a bow or throwing a spear. Koblins are a greater problem for the people living in the wilderness.

Koblin raids are very frequent while the koblin tribes are nomadic making them very difficult to track down. Conversely, the goblins prefer to lock themselves into their great stone forts and underground citadels living off of their sustainable farms underground. Goblins will venture out when they reach a limit to their sustainable population whereas koblins rely on raiding farms to sustain their numbers.

The greatest concern that Varrel and Esken have was that the Koblins will occasionally unite a few tribes together under one warleader to attack a larger target. This kind of siege can leave villages destroyed and break down the local security of a region. The center of the north eastern Condrican Kingdom is Calbin. Calbin rests at the base of the lower Kainran Fangs and acts as the home base for the region’s local defense and mercenaries against the koblins and goblins of the mountains.

The morning we arrived to Calbin began as we are rounding the edge of a steep hill following the packed dirt road. The area is covered in a low fog, the cold moisture chilles the skin of my face. It is nearing winter and some of the plants have light frost covering their leaves and branches.

We have recently departed from our campsite so, it is not noon yet not morning, the light of the sun faintly forces its way through the fog. The surroundings are completely quiet and still of life as if the cold fog has frozen everything in place. Our Bulims are not bothered by the weather, they have thick fur coats and are climatized for this kind of weather and terrain.

The silence is broken by a distant crunching of dried leaves fallen from the trees. Varrel and Esken reacted by placing a hand on their sword handles. Varrel spoke out loudly.

“Who is there!”

The crunching of leaves stopped for a moment before the direction changed from circling to our flank to approaching from our right.

“Calbin patrol!” is spoken in return.

From the thick fog a figure approached with arms held out. Varrel and Esken’s grip did not loosen, they may be prepared if this to be a ruse by bandits.

“Corrin Knights of Ilowa.” Varrel replied.

The figure lowers his arms and spoke in a relieved tone, “Knights?”

“Please come, you are almost at Calbin.” He continued.

Following the Calbin Patrolman we can hear a few other footsteps crunching along to keep pace as we continue along the road. While bending around the corner I can make out some silhouettes of wooden towers standing on log scaffolding, the closest is near the road and has a faint glow coming from it. A lantern held by the silhouette of a person standing on the tower.

“Hail!” The patrolman shouts to the tower, “we encountered two knights on the road, let them know there is no raid.”

“Thank Faelin for this aid!” relief is replied by the towerman.

“They are knights of Ilowa!” the patrolman replied with a laugh.

The towerman turned his lantern and flapped his hand in front of it to send out a flashing signal of light.

Since the topic came up, the goddess Ilowa is something I heard little about in Ferrel, in fact, there is no favoured deity worshipped in the Ferrel Valley, shrines and practices devoted to pleasing the local spirits was common. However, the goddess Faelin is one goddess I have some knowledge of from my readings in Darrel’s herbal workshop.

Faelin is a goddess who was captured by the great dragon Kainran. Kainran desired Faelin’s medicinal powers to cure a disease the great dragon was infected with. No weapon or magic made by the Mirts could harm Kainran, yet a disease was able to cripple the dragon.

Faelin’s imprisonment in Kainran’s resting place, the Kainran Fang mountains, has resulted in the local pines growing a fungus with disease curing properties. The fungus is commonly known as Faelin and is something Darren had a limited supply of, the fungus is in high demand. Faelin fungus is mostly supplied to large cities and sold to wealthy nobles. The harvest of it is also difficult without very high production yields.

Further into the fog I became able to make out the appearance of buildings along the face of a hill. As we approach closer I can hear the sound of voices and activity as people are working about.

Their number is not great, I can count about twelve on hand, it could be that it is still early and few are going outside in the thick fog. The sun is low over the hills, at about mid morning. Sound from a group ahead could be heard as we approached.

“That must be them.”

I am able to begin making out their appearance, a tall woman among them walks forward, she wears a leather robe and hood. Closing towards us she lowers her hood behind her neck revealing greying brown hair and middle pointed ears characteristic of Ordumirts. Varrel and Esken brought their Bulims to a halt. The woman began to speak.

“Welcome to Calbin, I am taking the place of the town’s mayor, my son Farl Willhin to greet you.” She spoke while nodding her head.

“Varrel Lorrin and Esken Eara, knights of Corrin. We found the dead bodies of travelers and a guard at the bridge crossing the Condric. We changed our destination here.”

The woman displayed a relieved face before she responded, “Thank you for your consideration, may Faelin bless you. My name is Mirta Willhin… ah.” Our eyes met, “and who may this be?”

Varrel glanced over his shoulder before answering, “The boy is said to be talented at healing, we may find out here better than in the safety of Corrin.”

Mirta shows that she is perplexed by the response and the group of villagers who came with her are exchanging looks. Two knights and a child, I do not know what we can accomplish here but I muster myself as we dismount at the town’s entrance.

There is one thing that began to bug me, I cannot tell if Calbin is a small city or a large town. People are referring to it as both, I decide to call it a city as the buildings became clear through the fog, many buildings stant three floors high.

Continuing inside the city we pass a fenced pen to our right next to a house. The house is a mix of Ordumirt and Kridimirt building styles. The use of lumber planks is common in Kridimirt construction; however, logs and bark peelings are also used on some parts that resemble the building style of Farrel valley.

To our left we pass a grassy hump, I notice a perimeter of logs were dug into the ground acting as a primitive wall. The logs are sharpened at the end and it looks like this is made recently, I asked myself if it is an improvised defense.

The road divides in two as we enter the city, a tall stone tower stands near this point surrounded by large buildings. The tower is easily a floor higher than the three floor buildings it stands beside. The stone tower became a good landmark and would provide an excellent view over the other buildings. It has a wooden roof to keep the sentry underneath sheltered.

The other buildings have signs on them with markings that these are Inns or compact houses. Smoke is rising from a couple of stone or metal openings, on the large buildings the smoke from each room’s small fireplace is piped outside from a metal tube. These poke out of the wall and allow the smoke to leave from the building’s walls. Some of these buildings have eight smoke pipes on each side.

We are lead to turn onto the right road continuing past the stone tower. I notice the tower is attached to a building which can be accessed from a door facing the road. Entering the tower meant entering this building, I have the feeling this place is part of the city’s government. The two large doors to enter the main building could be a sign that it is the city’s main hall or a building for the local guards.

After passing another Inn, a four story square building is on our left. It has a flat roof with a wooden fence at the top, its door is built strong and the first floor had no windows. This is more of what I would have imagined a barracks like. Attached to the barracks is another Inn like building, probably living quarters for the people who use this.

To my right I hear the ringing sound of a hammer striking metal, a forge is just across the road from the Barracks, there is a table, an anvil, and the hot fires of a furnace and bellows. The smiths are at work, two are working together hammering hot metal over the anvil. Two more are working from stools at the table, they busied themselves by patching and repairing items.

We begin taking a left turn and the sight of small stalls which are empty, outside of a few villagers talking amongst each other over boxes and bags. This looks like a market area for merchants. However, I do not think it will get lively here if the city is under pressure from monsters. The people here may be discussing how to ration food.

The road splits at the market, one path will go through the market, the other that we are now walking down brought us around the small market area. To our right we pass more houses, each are more than one floor tall, some are large enough to be an Inn but a few are more fitting for two or more families.

The road bends around to reconnect at the end of the market where we passed another large building, it is another Inn, next to it is a warehouse with large doors to allow wagons inside. Behind this we can see a large hill that rises from the trees, the city rests at the base of this steep hill. Further down the road I notice another stone tower, the building has a nice garden of pine trees in it, the main door is probably the other side, the tower does not have a roof though.

Mirta came to a stop and gestured to our right, she spoke, “Here is the manor of the Willhin family, I would like to invite you to stay here for now to rest from your journey.”

The manor stands three floors high, the third floor is mostly roof like the other buildings, the entrance has two well made doors. Walking towards the door I can see the building is build out from the sides like a square crescent. It is the size of the large Inns but clearly designed for less people to be packed inside.

We are led inside as Mirta’s companions hold the doors open, the Bulims are lead to the warehouse.

The Willhin manor is lit by candles on the inside while light entered from glass windows. Glass is not commonly used for windows, most use thin wood to close the opening during cold weather and open up to let the warm light inside. Because the sun is mostly blocked by the fog there are candles spread around.

The entrance has places to hang capes and coats along with a luggage room to the right and a bench on the left. Further ahead the hall splits in three ways, the way forward was a waiting room with cushioned couches and small well polished tables.

Varrel, Esken, and myself found ourselves here after we handed our luggage and coats over. I copied Varrel and Esken when they took a cloth to wipe their boots, the dirt roads are muddy and while we could not clean them fully, it seemed more polite to do some cleaning.

There are three couches placed facing towards the middle table which stands as high as an adult’s knees. Varrel and Esken sat at opposite couches from each other with Esken taking the couch facing away from the entrance door, Varrel is facing the door and Esken from his couch.

To Varrel’s left was the remaining couch, this couch is facing the other door in the room. The two people escorting us here enter that room, I can see pots, barrels, and hanging food inside.

I felt awkward, still standing, I am torn between where I should sit. Varrel and Esken both sit in the middle of their couches, their arms folded while their eyes rested on the polished table. I could take the other unoccupied couch, but Mirta sat on that one, she took the right side of the couch. I would have to squeeze in next to Varrel or Esken, there is enough room I would not bump into them on either side, I just felt intimidated.

Temptation called me to sit next to Varrel, just to see his expression, I can imagine a painful reaction he would hold back to not cause a scene. Yet, in order to avoid any future repercussions I squeezed into a spot on Esken’s left. After riding behind her for months it was the less awkward thing to do; even then, I can feel her wiggle over an inch. I decided to take this as her wanting some space after a long journey and not out of unspoken dislike of me.

“I apologize for the wait, an attendant will be contacting my son soon, for now I may entertain you until then.” Mirta spoke softly.

“We accept your hospitality.” Varrel and Esken spoke, nodding their heads as their right hand rested on their shoulder. I clumsily imitate the action.

“From your serpent Sigils, you are Corrin Knights of Ilowa, how does the Grandmaster Marala fair?”

“Grandmaster Marala does well, she is residing near Corrin to watch over the winter festivals.” Esken replied, “How did you come to know the Grandmaster?”

“We may only have a temple to Faelin, its doors are open to the light of Ilowa any time. Ten years ago when Marala was newly appointed the Grandmaster she set out with an expedition to this area. This manor of Willhin opened its doors for her to both rest and command from.”

“That was generous of you.” Esken added, her face was more relaxed.

“It was a mutual benefit for us, securing Faelin for the order’s medicine will profit Calbin and strengthen your order.”

“So, the Koblins are making another push after only ten years?” Varrel spoke.

Mirta’s expression became firm, “The goblins as well are rallying to enclose us.”

Varrel and Esken have their suspicions confirmed, the Koblins are not just being supplied by the goblins with weapons, they are collaborating an attack on Calbin.

“My son is working on the defensive preparations since the first raids began a month ago.” Mirta continued.

Varrel replied, “Calbin is not built for a siege, there are no walls nor keeps.”

Mirta returned anxiously, “We have been building walls.”

A voice from behind spoke out, “Log palisades will not hold a determined force, Calbin had always maintained an aggressive approach, attacking the monsters away from the core lands.”

The door behind me is opened, Varrel stood, placing his right hand on his left shoulder he nodded to the man who spoke.

“Too many of the monsters have rallied down from their mountain caves for mercenaries and adventurers to hold back.” he continued.

Esken also rose from her seat while I turned to see who had entered. An Ordumirt, dirty from soil came around to my right towards Mirta and he placed his right hand on her left shoulder. She held onto his hand with her own.

“I am Farl Willhin, mayor of Calbin.” He spoke.

“Varrel Lorrin.”

“Esken Eara.”

Farl sat beside his mother and Varrel and Esken returned to their seats.

Farl spoke again with a long sigh, “I really would have liked more of you to show up, but I can guess you would not have come as soon as you have if you traveled from Corrin.”

Farl leaned against the couch arm with his elbow and rested his chin on his fist.

“How many can bare arms?” Varrel asked.

“Twenty of my own guard, next would be the Kainran Mercenary Company. They currently have thirty two soldiers and about a dozen supporters; cooks, healers, alchemists. Since their home base is here half of the support are stewards and scribes.”

Farl positioned himself upright before continuing, “Then we have the adventure guild, a few adventurer groups have been staying there along with others inside of Inns. We have around fifty of them in total. Able bodied people from the surrounding areas who are displaced and willing to fight number just over a hundred.”

“The enemy has how many?” Varrel cut in.

Farl leaned forward a little, “Every night our count grows, their number reaches close to a thousand. Deploying groups into the hills and woods helps us thin and disrupt their ranks but our wounded is growing.”

I caught Varrel’s glance towards me, he replied back to Farl, “We may have something to help with that.”

Farl looks towards me, our eyes meet and I can see into his light brown eyes.

“We were on assignment to escort this boy to Corrin to be evaluated as a hero candidate, based on word that he healed many wounded adventurers in the Farrel Valley. The claim further stated he took the time that ten adult healers would have taken.” Varrel continued to say.

“Really?” Farl’s response showed doubt as he looked back at me.

From that perspective even I would hesitate believing that, I don’t have ten adult’s mana, I just have a talent at being more efficient.

“So I’ve heard, if this word is even one tenth true then he will be of some use.” Varrel ended as he leaned back folding his arms.

“And the boy can gain some practice if he does have some talent.” Farl spoke before he asked, “Boy, what is your name?”

“Kordic Blann.” I replied with a nod.

“Mother, show Kordic to the temple.”

“Should we let him rest from his journey?” Mirta replied, placing her hand on Farl’s arm.

“I will leave him in the temple’s care, the priest will be able to find him a place to stay and decide when he needs rest, is that alright?” Farl turned to Varrel.

Varrel nodded.

“Very well, we shall speak more on the situation, it should be lunch time soon?” Farl turned to an aid.

Mirta rose from her seat and approached. Varrel and Esken are now free from escorting me, it does feel like they dropped me off. I slip myself off of the couch and followed Mirta to the door.

The thought lingered in my head that I am going to be occupied here for a while, at least I was now out of this room full of tension. Before leaving I gathered my fur and leather coat along with my backpack. Mirta and I are escorted by a single attendant outside where we turned right on the road, this continued towards the stone building which was diagonally across from the manor.

“Pretty close.” I said, assuming this stone building is the temple.

“All of the major buildings are within this area. Calbin acts as a center for merchants and adventurers, the services for them are all close together for convenience. Most villagers live outside in the fields and forests.”

I looked around at the inns, the fog continued to make things difficult to see but I could tell that the Inns were very full from the windows.

“Have these villagers moved here for now?” I asked.

“Yes. Our Inns are short on space so, we have to provide rooms for half of a day for most. The people work outside during one half and rest the other.” Mirta responded.

“Some work during the night? Is it safe for them?”

“Do not worry, we do not have to worry about the monsters attacking at night, there are too many guards and patrols for that.”

I gave a look at Mirta’s troubled face, she expressed an awkward emotion when I did not go along with her optimism. I can tell that the lack of walls around Calbin will eventually invite attacks; however, those patrols they send out to disrupt the Koblin raids before they happen look like they will buy enough time to set up a log palisade.

Following the road we approached the rear of the temple and its garden, the road continued along the side of temple where an intersection merged our right road with the left turn from the city’s entrance forming a loop. This intersection has a third road that continued away from the city towards the large hill to the north east.

We turn left on the intersection to approach the temple’s main doors. Two well made wooden doors are engraved with imagery of trees and high mountain peaks, a theme of the goddess Faelin. The attendant paced ahead to open one of the doors for us and Mirta entered ahead of me. The smell of blood and herbs reached my nose shortly after the door is opened.

It smells like I will be busy.

Following Mirta through the temple doors I notice Mirta draw a cloth close to her nose, the odor from inside is a mixture of blood and herbal medicines, something I am already familiar with. I can smell grincer herb along with another smell I was not familiar that is distinctly not an herbal smell.

Rather it smelled moss and fungi like, the dried Faelin fungus I saw before have little smell, but here, I can assume they have fresh Faelin.

The temple is dark light by candles placed around to provide light, some candles are hung from the walls while a metal ring suspended by rope from the roof provided light from above Near the center along each wall of the main atrium, two fireplaces are set with a small fire to maintain warmth.

This room is full of benches where the wounded lay. From a quick look over, most of the wounds are bandaged and shallow or minor. Some of the people inside notice Mirta and quietly nod to her or lowered their heads. Mirta would occasionally step close to one of the wounded and lay her hand on their head of body before she continued through.

Temple caretakers are undressing bandages to check on their patient’s wounds, some are not recovering too well as they showed signs of fever. Mirta continued towards the back of the temple where a stone stairway along the square wall allowed access to a basement and upper floor. We walked up these stairs to the second floor.

On this floor there is a hallway down the center that leads into four separate rooms while the staircase continued up. There is a person on this floor resting in a chair who rose to greet Mirta. She is wearing a robe made of fur hide, decorated with parts of bone and teeth.

She came up to Mirta to hold hands, formally greeting eachother. I can see a sigil sewn onto the back of the robe. The sigil is a pine tree with a sharp mountain peak behind it, a sigil of Faelin.

“Greetings Miss Mirta, what brings you to the temple so near lunch?”

“Priestess Lara, it is good to see you are keeping well during such difficult times, I came to bring a potential aid.” Mirta replied with a gesture towards me.

Lara looked me over before replying, “He is not from the region and I do not know what kind of help he may provide.”

“Corrin knights came today to provide us aid, they are on a mission to bring this boy to be evaluated for his skills in healing. I do not know what he can do; however, I know you are short handed on aids in the temple.”

Lara nodded her head, “I understand.”

Mirta took her leave back down the stairs and Lara turned back to me to say, “I am one of the Faelin Priests, Lara Lumright, I hope you do not mind beginning work right away? Oh and your name?”

“Kordic Blann, I apprenticed under the herbalist Darren Bant in the Farrel Valley and gained practice tending wounds of adventurers ambushed by Goblins.” I replied, summarising my story.

“Oh? You are experienced for your age.” Lara added with a tone of slight surprise.

“This floor is where our most serious injuries are treated, we can only care for so many at one time before us priests exhaust our mana. Upstairs is the Bishop’s quarters, he and the other priests rest there.” Lara continued to say as she lead me down the stairs.

“The main floor is for the treated and light wounded to recover. We do not always use our healing magic to fully heal a wound, partially healing an injury will prevent problems and speed up recovery.”

Lara made her way to another staircase on the main floor which takes us underground.

“The basement stores our food, medicine, and materials. I am curious to know, as an herbal apprentice how familiar are you with these medicines.” Lara finished by asking me this question.

The basement was dimly lit, Lara held a candle resting on a wood dish with a handle on the side. She carried this close to the stocks inside the room. I can make out a variety of plants drying and hung from the ceiling, I did notice something that I brought up with Lara.

“There is no hollip herb here.”

I had purchased a bag of hollip earlier and I could not spot any in the basement.

“Faelin is better for curing disease.” Lara replied with some pride.

I felt a little troubled by this, Faelin was commonly ingested or chewed on while swallowing the saliva. The medicine inside the fungus can be extracted out through mashing and processing out the other parts; however, the hollip herb was not ingested, it is best applied over a wound to disinfect the wound from outside.

“Faelin will only cure a person’s insides, hollip is excellent for cleaning the outside, preventing infection from spreading outside the infectious source.”

Lara showed that she was taken back by this.

“Well, as long as it is cured.” she replied.

I did not want to chastise her, back at Darren’s I spent a lot of my time doing experiments.

“Both are best,” I added, “curing the infection of the miasma from within will not stop the miasma from outside to enter a wound again. Hollip under a bandage prevents the miasma from entering so the faelin can work unhindered.”

Lara nodded, “That is true, you learned well from Darren. However, we have never needed to stock up on hollip. We produce enough faelin.”

“I purchased a bag of hollip while traveling here.” I spoke while untying my bag of hollip, “It is not a lot; however, if we clean wounds well with clean salty water we will need less hollip. By doing this, we should be able to avoid using up your Faelin reserves as fast.”

“salty water?” Lara inquired.

“Yes, washing a wound with clean water will hurt, a pinch of salt prevents this while also slowing the spread of miasma through the water.”

I can tell Lara is surprised again, she began to show some more recognition that I am actually knowledgeable about herbs and would cleaning.

“Then, I appreciate your generosity in providing the hollip.” Lara nodded to me.

I returned the nod and replied, “We can call it a trade, faelin is traded to specific traders so nothing remains for someone like me to buy. Hollip for faelin will be a good trade when we make it through this.”

“That would be a fair exchange,” She replied.

“Well then, Kordic we would appreciate your help, we have wounded people who have been treated on the first floor. You can help them by gathering the things they need from this store room, you can bring some of what you may need up right now.”

I find a leather bag to sling onto my shoulder before filling it with a mixture of herbs and medicines. Lara gestured me back up stairs where smell of wounds is potent again. She gestured over a young Ordumirt woman wearing a bloodied apron.

“This is Aera, my younger sister who is helping with the wounded,” Laura gestured towards her sister, “Aera, this is Kordic, he has been apprenticed in herbal medicine and wound care. You can have him help out down here.”

“Yes sister.” Aera nodded.

“I will return upstairs to mend to the wounded there with my replenished mana.”

Lara returned upstairs while Aera turned towards me and began her instructions.

“We can begin with changing bandages, we place the used cloth in the barrel in the right corner by the entrance, the left corner is the cleaned cloth barrel. We dry the washed cloth outside if it is not too cold or wet.”

I follow Aera to the clean bandage cloth barrel where we procured the clean strips we will need. She gestures me towards one wounded man to her right as she began to tend to a man on her left. I approach the man who is awake, laying on a bench over straw and cloth bedding.

His brown eyes glance towards me, I stand at waist height to his side while I look over his bandaging. The cloths are a mixture of different colours, mostly white fabric torn into long strips. The man’s wound is a shoulder wound where the penetration entered the back of his shoulder but stopped on the bone.

“What caused this wound?” I asked.

The man continued to stare upwards at the candles hanging from a chandelier when he replied, “Koblin arrow.”

“Can you move your shoulder?”

“A little.”

“I will try not to move your arm much when I change the bandage.”

I held onto his arm with my left hand as I untie the bandage. If I move his arm too much I can feel it tense up from the pain allowing me to understand where his limits are. The bandage is easily removed and I ask him to sit up so I may wash the wound.

I have a bucket of clean water, not saline water so, it will sting when I wipe his wound. The entry wound is deep and the removal of the arrowhead caused significant trauma to his flesh. When I carefully smell the odor coming from it I can tell that faelin was under the bandage. Green colour is present on the skin but it comes off when wiped.

Faelin is not very effective when applied to the surface, the smelly green film is likely a result of the Faelin juice going bad. If fresh Faelin juice is left like this it became apparent that it will spoil.

I do detect a faint foul scent from the spoiled faelin but I am not sure if it is all the faelin’s smell. If the wound is not cleaned correctly an infection can make its way in. I decide to begin by using my thumb to apply my focused mana around his wound to heal the trauma.

Torn muscle is difficult to heal if I do not consider the direction the muscle fibers travel in. I carefully massaged around the area while the muscle fiber weaves itself back together along with the blood vessels. When the wound no longer bleeds and only the skin is left to heal I apply a very thin layer of hollip paste to a short piece of cloth.

The cloth is placed over the wound and I wrap clean bandage around his shoulder to hold the cloth in place.

I notice that Aera has already finished tending to her patient, I turned toward the man I worked on and said, “That took a while, I apologize to the discomfort.”

“mmm,” he nodded, “it does feel better now.”

He placed his hand over his shoulder showing little sign of pain, “Maybe that massage you did help.”

“Well, rest up .”

I turned to the next wounded man whose bandages look like they need to be changed.

I began to lose track of how much time passed by I finally caught up on cleaning and bandaging the wounded inside the temple. I rest myself on the ground while leaning against one of the benches, the blood on my face and hands has dried.

My fatigue has caught up while I scratched at the dried flakes of blood. Then with a low groan, the temple doors are pushed open, the cool wind from outside rush inside. I take a deep breath of the clean air, a welcome change from the stale air inside.

Judging by the amount of light coming through the door, the day is late afternoon and my stomach groaned as I thought about how long it was since my last meal. Entering through the door, four men equipped with metal armour and fur layered beneath approach me. One of the men is injured on his left thigh, I can see the bandage wrapping was stained with blood.

“Boy, take his things.” the eldest of them said to me.

I rose from my seat and unfastened the wounded man’s breast plate from his chest. It is not bronze like most of the armour I have seen, it appeared more like dull silver similar to Varrel and Eskan’s armour.

It is iron or steel, I am not familiar enough with these metals to truly know. When his armour is removed I piled it with his fur and leather layers where we placed people’s belongings inside a square cupboards. Two of the men who came in carried the wounded man towards Aera who gestured them upstairs.

The fourth man, who is the eldest in appearance is now removing some of his armour. This armour is composed of a large breastplate that reaches from his collar down to his hips to cover his chest and abdomen. His forearms are protected by the metal plates attached to his long leather gloves, the plates are shaped to cover the forearm and the back of the hand.

The layer under his torso armour is a mesh of metal chains that can also cover down to his knees and elbows. His leather boots also have a shaped plates of metal along the shin, foot, and ankle.

This old soldier, an Ordumirt, uncovers a wound to his left upper arm. I grab a bucket of clean water along with bandage and medicine, when he saw me approach he sat on a bench. The angle the entry wound is at made it difficult for him to see it on his own, he spoke a few words to me, “part of the arrow head broke and entered through the chainmail.”

I place the bucket and bandages down to find some tools we have around. Most of the good tools are upstairs so, I am only able to find a pair of small pliers and a small knife. I rinsed and heated the tools to clean them.

“Have you done this before?” He asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “But I will have to manage with the tools we have on this floor.”

He nodded and propped his left upper arm up by placing his hand on his hip. I sat on that side and used the small knife to scrape the scab away. The blood began to come through and I can see the shard of an arrow head buried under the scab.

Using the knife I push the flesh apart from sticking to the metal while the pliers in my other hand are able to extract the shard. I placed the pliers down and used a clean wet cloth to clean the blood from the wound. When I could not see anymore pieces inside I pinched the wound closed and focused some healing magic inside.

During the treatment the old soldier barely tensed up; however, I noticed he became curious when I closed the wound with magic. He pulled his arm away and flexed it around before asking, “you can use healing magic?”

I nodded, “yes, I only focused it on sealing the wound so it should be tender still.”

“Hmm,” He replied, “Save the bandage.”

With that he stood up and began to put his armour layers back on. I decided to wash the tools, the other people tending to the wounded here had made light of my repeated cleaning of tools. They do not understand how these tools can transfer diseases without proper care. While moving on to sort the bandages that finished drying the old soldier approached me again.

“I had heard word from others about two Corrin Knights arriving earlier, Aera told me you were tagging along.”

“Yes, we changed direction when we found Koblins were attacking beyond the Condrica River.”

The rumbling sound of my stomach came through as I answered, the old soldier replied, “How about we get something to eat.”

He guided me outside the temple where the fog had long disappeared, the sky is dimming as the sun set behind the mountains in the west. I have not eaten for most of the day and my hunger has reached the point of dizziness.

‘You are a hero candidate then?” The old soldier asked, “From your skills you would make a skilled healer.”

“I lived in the Farrel Valley when the adventurers there needed aid while I was apprenticed with the Herbalist.”

“The temple priests only knew you had knowledge of herbal medicines, were they to busy to check what other skills you had?”

“Yes,” I reply knowing that I cannot hide my skills at this point.

“Hmmm, well I should introduce myself, you can call me Arga. Don’t worry about my family name I don’t have it anymore.”

“Kordic Blann.”

The introduction is awkward at this point and we are approaching one of the inns to most likely order food. The smell is making my stomach announce itself again.

“I am one of the lead mercenaries for the Kainran Mercenary company stationed here in Calbin, our base is this large four floor building.” Arga said pointing to his left.

We turned off of the main road to cut through some houses to head to the western entrance of Calbin towards the largest building in the small city. The inn to the right of the mercenary building is our destination.

I can hear lively conversation from the Inn’s first floor and the main roads as are more occupied than the morning I arrived. The smith accross the road from the mercenary building is still just as active with the sounds of hammers striking metal.

Arga leads me inside the inn’s first floor where a number of patrons inside smiled and greeted Arga.

“Welcome back!”

“Ayyyy, the old dog lives another day!”

Gesturing me over to a table Arga grabbed an extra stool for me to sit at before he took a seat next to me. The men around became a little more quiet as they looked towards me.

“Who's the kid Arga?”

Arga looked towards the man who spoke, he is also an Ordumirt like Arga.

“First, food. The boy and I havn’t eaten for most of the day.” he replied waving towards the waitress.

“I heard Ralin took a hit.” one of the men said.

“Koblin shot at us from the fog close to noon, as the fog cleared they pulled out.”

“Did ya get many?”

“Two for myself, a dozen between the group.”

“An’ they didn’t run right away?”

“No, the Koblins are becoming more persistent.” Arga replied as he reached into his pocket to pull out a broken arrowhead, “Pulled this from my arm.”

The men around him leaned in to look at the arrowhead Arga was holding.

“Gobite,” He added, “Not very well smithed so it fractured, sending a shard into my arm.”

“So, the Kobs are gettin’ more organized with the Gobs.” One of the men said as he leaned back and folded his arms.

“This and their greater persistency means they are stepping up their tactics from raiding to sieging.” Arga followed up, “I expect to see more direct involvement from the Goblins now that they are supplying the Koblins better.”

“Here you are.” Spoke a waitress carrying a large plate with meat, bread, and vegetables piled on it.

“Thanks Sanda,” Agra replied as he leaned to the side so she could slide the plate onto the table, “One ale and a juice.”

Arga turned towards me gestured me to join in and eat. The meat is salted and lightly smoked, the bread and vegetables are also pretty fresh. The other men at the table began to talk to themselves about the news.

Their topic changed from how to fight goblins to the kind of loot they hope to get their hands on. I get some information on why the gobite is considered important. The ore is a mixture of iron, copper, and a magical silver called sithril.

From the conversation I further learn that they loot the gobite from goblins to sell to the local smith who melts it down to separate the sithril. The mercenaries talked about how a good haul of gobite will encourage merchants to come with good steel to exchange and maybe a good smith will move to Calbin who can make mithril out of the sithril.

I take a mental note to look into this mithril metal. I recall hearing merchants and adventurers using the words sithril and mithril before; however, the merchants felt that there was no real demand for them to bring these metals into the remote Ferrel Valley.

Especially when they can travel to Corrin across the mountains to the north, Condrica to the South East, or South to Rutel. While Calbin is near the trade road between Corrin and Condrica, the best way to get the exclusive goods is to travel there yourself instead of relying on a merchant to bring it to you.

The mercenaries all know that Calbin is a strategically important point overlooking the entrance to the Ordumar Valley. Losing this region will allow the Goblins and Koblins to cut off the trade road between Corrin and Condrica by raiding the Condrican River.

When Arga finished eating his portion he gulped down his ale, which is contained inside of a bulim horn carved into a mug. He savoured the aftertaste while he let out a deep breath before he added in his opinion on the new information that was being shared.

“Corrin will have the soldiers needed to reclaim this region if Calbin falls, so there is no threat to their trade route. But remember,” Arga spoke while leaning in, “This region is under very autonomous rules and lower taxes. That is why the Kainran Company moved our headquarters down south here. Access to steel and sithril is important for a mercenary to remain competitive in war. If Calbin falls, anyone who survives will be brought under tighter rule by Corrin who holds more claim over this land.”

The men at the table grew quiet, they are all Ordumirts, now that I looked around, the majority of people inside are Ordumirts with the exception of two whose ears point higher, Kridimirts. Calbin used to be part of the old Corrin kingdom that merged with the Condrican Kingdom.

I picked up the impression from these mercenaries and Varrel’s conversations that Corrin continues to largely govern itself with trade restrictions and currency differences with Condrica being removed. Corrin’s king is the same person as Condrican’s king but the nobles continued to keep their same political allies.

“Anyway,” one of the men spoke as he glanced towards me, “who's the kid Arga?”

“I’m Kordi,” I nervously replied, accidentally giving my nickname and not my full name.

“Haha, what a cute kid.” Some of the men clamoured.

“Didn’t think you’d have a soft spot.” another man jested to Arga.

Arga smiled, it looked sinister from my angle, “I found Kordi in the temple, clothes covered in blood!”

The men look me over, my clothes are still covered in dried blood.

“I had just sat down to let him help bandage my wound when he goes and pulls out the bits of gobite stuck in my shoulder then fixes it up without a scratch.”

The mood became silent and a few more glances came my way from other tables. I chose to stay quiet.

“I asked around and it turns out some Ilowa knights came by with Kordi in tow, something about training him to be a hero candidate. The one nurse there just thought he had some medicinal knowledge. They wern’t going to have enough room for him to sleep.”

“I asked a few of the people he patched up and their wounds are in fine condition, so I want to give Kordi here some food and a place to sleep.” Arga finished by patting my shoulder, I felt concerned during his talk but no one became awkward after hearing the story.

“So Corrin Knights got a hold of him, shame really. From what you say the kid’s got potential to be a good healer.” spoke on of the mercenaries at our table, he folded his arms and added, “we can always use more of them.”

“Where you from kid?” another asked.

“Ferrel Valley.”

“Pretty remote, surprised someone noticed him.”

“I helped heal an adventurer company who were wounded by an ambush.”

“They must be hoping that by sending you to Corrin you would end up being back to the Greater Ferrel Mountains between Corrin and the Ferrel Valley to help their company.” Arga replied.

“Likewise if you are sent to Condrica, with your healing skill they would assign you to some army unit or even a noble’s personal doctor since you have a head for medicines as well.”

“What?” One of the mercs replied, the others had surprise on their faces as well, “That would be a real comfy job.”

“True,” Arga answered, “Though I’m not sure how well Kordi would do around a bunch of nobles and their etiquette.”

Everyone looked over my dirty figure again before chuckling.

“I swear, those nobles keep coming up with new rituals or whatever they call it.”

“And the way they look! Where do they find clothes that strange?”

They looked at Arga for an answer, he shrugged, “Probably trade from the south or something.”

Arga and the mercenaries at the table continued for a while as they complain about the nobles they meet, comparing some stories about the weirdest ones they have encountered. I had to leave for to the bathroom for a moment and when I returned they began to ask me some questions.

“What did your father do by the way?”

“My father was a hunter and militia member in our village.”

“Oh? Did he teach you his trade?”

“He taught me how to make a bow, how to use it, and gave me some general advice for living in the forrest.”

“I don’t see a bow on you kid, did you bring one?”

“I grew out of the one I practiced with and I never had the time to make a new one when I apprenticed with the village healer.”

“Ah-ha, becoming an expert with the bow involves a life dedicated to its practice. It would be hard for you to become such with both.”

I decided to ask, “How many do we have who can use a bow that well?”

One of the men replied, “Well, its an Ordumirt tradition of sorts to be good with a bow. You can’t survive against koblins prowling the woods without being able to hit targets no matter the hand you use. Though, for us mercenaries most are like Arga.”

I looked towards Arga whose equipment had no bow and arrow. Arga explained, “Mercs are good front line soldiers for launching shock attacks, we try to use good armour and shields to approach close and gut them with our blades. If they try to get some distance then I can use this.”

Arga quickly reached for something stashed under his fur coat. His hand flashed to the side and I hear a dull sound hitting wood. I look over and see a target made of wood, there are a few of them around and they all have cut marks in them. The one I was now looking at had a small knife stuck in the target’s center.

“It does not have the range of a bow, but when a Koblin tries to get some distance I can hit them in their joints or neck.”

The conversation continued for a while, others around the inn joined in along the way and when Arga noticed my eyes drifting down from fatigue he decided to pay for a room I could sleep in. I did not mind, even though I had plenty of billets myself to pay for at least a year I decided it would be safest to not gloat my wealth.

Sleeping on a good bed feels great, even compared to any other bed I have slept in, this one is large enough for an adult and has a thick layer of cushion underneath. It seems to be a mix of feather downey and sheared fur bundled together inside a large silk fabric mattress bag.

The mattress is laid onto the wooden floor and while some beds are raised above the ground with a wooden frame, this kind of mattress is easy to move. I am actually sharing the room with two others who are adult men that took refuge here from their farms. There is one bed frame in the room so, two mats are laid on the floor.

I have seen silks before, merchants in Farrel were interested in purchasing silks from adventurers. The silk the adventurers find is looted from goblins, the goblins breed large spiders in their mountains and harvest the web to weave crude cloth.

Adventurers strip the silk from dead goblins, clean it, and sell it to merchants or those who can use their tools and skill to create higher quality silk. Calbin has a decent number of silk weavers which explains why these beds have silk covers.

The smoothness of the silk surpases the furs I am used to.

I walked to the first floor’s dining area where I had spent the evening with Arga and his mercenary comrades. The Inn’s breakfast is bread, chige eggs, and tree nuts called Corro nuts harvested from the Corro Pines. There are a lot of Corro trees growing in orderly rows around Calbin, the valley that the Condrican river flows through is known as the Corrin valley.

The name is inspired by the abundance of quality Corro trees whose pine cones contain a nut inside. The nut is normally bitter and poisonous until cooked or boiled. I ate a lot of these nuts back home; however, these Corrin valley Corro nuts are a little better.

These Corro trees are farmed for both the nut and that they are a pine tree which the faelin fungus grows on. So, the Corro trees grow both food and faelin fungus, after the tree is too old to produce pine cones and its bark too thick to establish more fungus it is chopped down for wood.

Unfortunately, it does not seem like the Corro tree’s wood is very good for making bows and furniture so, it is made into softwood or firewood. I finished breakfast while I thinking about this and finished my mug of water.

I left the Inn to be greeted by the morning sun, there is no fog this morning and more people are wandering around. I woke up because of the noise outside; logs are being pounded along the crest of the hillside to act as a simple barrier against possible attacks.

The smith nearby is heating up his forge.

The chige are also let free to roam for bugs in the grass as the males are crying out. I thought for a moment what I should do next, I am assigned to the temple so, I should head over there. The thought lingered that I could pay a visit to Arga to thank him for setting me up for the night at the Inn. He would be sleeping in the mercenary’s HQ next to the Inn I stayed at.

My curiosity got the best of me and I wanted to see inside the mercenary building. It is an imposing sight, I have not seen a building that size before, standing four floors high. It has two entrances, one to the main barracks and another to the Inn-like addition to the side.

I peeked into the main barrack’s double doors, it is more imposing than I imagined and I wanted to know more. Through the door it appeared to be a reception and waiting area; however, the entrance was flanked by two sets of chest high walls with an inclined ramp. The walls were barred enough to prevent someone from climbing over the wall but open enough I could imagine arrows and spears reaching through.

It has a defensive feel to it like this is a bottleneck, the first floor has no windows and the walls are reinforced with thick stone. I approached through the entrance and up the shallow ramp, there are barrels on each side where the chest high walls ends, probably used to roll down the ramp to create an obstacle.

From the room I can hear a conversation, when I looked ahead I can see a man in a silk robe with the faelin temple’s emblem speaking with Arga. Arga looked like he just woke up, his wrinkles are more prominent while the poor lighting inside was not helping the appearance of his complexion. He noticed me in the corner of his eye and raised his eyebrows.

“Speaking of him, he conveniently showed up.” Arga gestured with his tired head towards me.

The faelin Priest turned towards me and squinted his eyes in the dim light before asking, “Are you Kordic, the boy who helped at the temple yesterday?”

“Yes.” I replied.

“Our Priest Lara was informed you knew medicines but from my morning inspection it seems you are very talented at healing.”

I thought as much. After the attention I was getting from Arga I knew someone else would notice.

The Priest continued to speak, “It was quite the surprise to find many of the wounded you tended were fully healed, from what I gathered you were brought here by Corrin Knights passing by. Yet I have a hard time understanding the details.”

“No one asked me if I could heal.”

“What I doubt is the level of healing, Arga here claimed you easily removed metal fragments and closed up a wound with ease. That is not something a child can do.”

I looked towards Arga who just shrugged.

“So, I would like to know how you did it, a magic tool with that power would help our situation immensely.”

I do not have a good feeling about those words, if I have a magic tool would he confiscate it? I became a little apprehensive about responding.

“Ah! I’ve got an idea.” Arga chipped in, “Follow me, I could use some fresh air.”

Arga led the way through the front doors and outside into the morning light. He arched his back and spread his shoulders to stretch while taking a deep breath. He noticed a chige wantering the side of the dirt road, scratching the soil.

He signaled with his left hand, one of the mercenaries who came out with us moved to flank the chige. Arga moved behind the chige and spooked it, the bird cannot fly so, it ran away from him towards the other merc who grabbed it by the neck and legs. The chige flapped its wings for a moment before it stopped, it only continued to twitch its legs.

“Now, this is something we do to test new healers, have them heal a critical wound before the animal dies. You see, there is a major artery pumping blood through this chige’s thigh. I am going to cut it and I want you to stop the bleeding Kordi.” Arga drew one of his knives and pointing along the bird’s thigh, “It will bleed to death in a few seconds, so you’ll need to be quick.”

They brought the bird closer to me, I thought the chige had relaxed after being held but up close I looked into its eye and saw it shivering in the grip of the Mercenary. Arga drew his knife over the thigh and I heard the Priest behind me start to protest.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Arga gouged his knife into the bird’s thigh and drew it back out, blood immediately began to squirt out in tune to the bird’s heart beat. The chige began twitching in protest and squawked as its wings rustled and flapped.

“NOW, hurry!” Arga shouted.

I raise my hands towards the bird, with my left I grip the leg and begin to part the feathers to reveal the cut. The blood that squirted out suddenly redirected towards my face, the warm fluid hit my left eye with a stinging pain. I force my eye shut as I use my right hand’s thumb to press down where the artery’s cut began. With my index finger I focus my mana to the area around the wound.

I have not done many things with the bodies of animals; however, I do know from my parent’s animal butchering about arteries and veins which carry the blood. Arteries are thick and elastic, I visualized it in my mind and felt the feedback from my mana.

When I heal something and I focus on what the mana is doing I can feel what it is doing and what it is exposed too. I can tell that the artery is not completely severed, this will be easier than trying to connect to severed ends.

By focusing my mana’s healing on reconnecting the cut in the artery I am able to stop the bleeding, my finger no longer felt the flow of blood squirting out. I mend the cut muscle and skin to finish the process and when I am done, I let go and take a step back. I cannot see out of my left eye, the stinging pain is still there so, I raised my left hand to rub the blood off of my face.

“Well, looks like he’s done.” Arga said, nodding to the mercenary holding the chige.

The merc placed the chige back on the ground, when he let go the bird dashed away a short distance before going back to plucking the grass.

“Haha, look at that, doesn’t even notice a thing.” Arga boasted.

“How… could you do that?” The priest spoke from behind.

I turned half way to my right to see the priest, he was slightly more pale and was glaring at Arga.

“I don’t know any healer who can fix an artery bleed that well.” Arga declared folding his arms, “The ones who can, tie the leg’s blood flow off to slow the bleeding and even then, the patient can’t walk proper for at least an hour. How many more of those wounds could you heal kid?”

“Ummm,” I am still rubbing at the blood on my face, my eye really stung, “it did not take much, I could do a lot more.”

I did not really know how many more times I could heal that kind of wound but it did not feel like I spent a lot of mana doing so.

“See, Kordi barely used any mana to do something experts spend almost their whole reserve on.”

“How?” The priest exclaimed, “What do you use?”

I really do not want to reply, my eye is irritating me and it begins to water a great deal. I am cringing my head to the left while I rubbed it.

“Maybe we should get you some water and clean that up.” Arga followed up.

Author's End notes

Well, that took at least 30min just to put an extra paragraph between to properly space everything. @[email protected]

Fortunately I wear "ghetto gunnars" aka, $8 yellow tinted safety glasses that actually keep my eyes from hurting when starting at the words on a monitor for over a day. =]