Volume 1: Arc 1: Chapter 8

AUTHOR'S NOTE

IF YOU WANT TO SKIP UNNECESSARY INFORMATION SKIP THIS PART

Also, In case any of you were wondering, the reason the AI stated that there were 5 Ventros and their location was unknown was due to this.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Network_virtualization

Mrs. Edwards acted as the collector of the information and as she did not look in the right location, she received a faulty answer. This will not be written in the story for some time as our MC is a bit of an idiot who acts before he thinks.

February 13 – March 20, 20 R.E.

A wide, flat landscape percolated by tufts of short grass, yellow as corn, met Rajac as he exited the forest two days later. Rajac laughed to himself, pure relief written across his face. He had made it through the Western Territories unscathed. Surprisingly. He must have been lucky. Extremely lucky to escape without having a single serious fight.

The manling, in Rajac’s opinion, did not count. The relative tranquility of his journey troubled him, causing his paranoia to rise, all the while, slowing down his pace as he looked for the numerous traps that could be hidden in the dense underbrush in the forest.

Yet, no attack came. At the same time it was a relief and another stress-inducer piled on everything else. Where were the monstrous beasts of the Western Territories? Surely, they had not left. Otherwise, why would thousands of adventures brave the region searching for glory and fame if there was nothing to find. And if there were no dangers, then why would only tens of those thousands return unscathed.

Without a backward glance, Rajac quickly strode from the forest, aware of the menacing aura that remained behind him.

Quickly, the flat grassland beyond the Western Territories turned into rolling hills lush with crops. Farmers tended their wares off in the distance as Rajac walked between their fields. He saw many different races working together as he passed farm after farm. Humans, Elves, and Zolat, a type of humanoid ice-spirit, were the most common among them.

This was Gerosh, after all, an Elvish kingdom. They always had close relationships to humans, and Zolat, well, they were pretty much welcome anywhere as they were one of the few races that proliferated many experts who had the ability to use Auxiliary Magic.

As Rajac continued throughout the day, the farms became closer and closer together, until, as he crested a rise, Rajac no longer saw farms. Instead, there was a concentric ring of cobbled stone, three men high, surrounding intermittently spaced wooden buildings.

With a wide grin on his face, Rajac walked down the hill and towards the village. He had been wondering what civilization would look like in Thantos. A village would do as a nice starting point. Maybe they will have an Identity Merchant as well, he mused softly.

“Halt!” A gravelly voice boomed, startling Rajac who had become lost in his thoughts, wondering about the wonders that lay within the village. Rajac halted, directing his attention to a man, dressed all in black, standing by the awning that portioned the wall surrounding the village.

If the man had not spoken, Rajac might never have seen him. It had grown dark long since and the man, half-way hidden behind the stone fortification, was basically invisible to the naked eye. The man walked out from his post, hand on the pommel of his sword, and a scowl on his face.

“Where have you come from?” The man asked, in a low growl. As suspicion darkened his eyes the man brushed his eyebrows together, squinting through the dark. Rajac was fairly certain the man was as blind as he was in the pitch-black of night and only saw him approach because he had actually been looking for travelers while Rajac had been caught unawares.

“To the west.” Rajac said simply. This man was most likely a local guard of some sort. So close to the Western Territories, the village must have decided to build a wall and establish a guard, if only for their own peace of mind.

Although, Rajac thought it would do little to stop the monstrous beings that lived within the territories. Rajac himself believed he could hold up against one or two, but the hordes some said they roamed around in, Rajac shivered internally, only a true monster could combat that by himself.

“The west?” The guard said slowly. “You came from the Western Territories?” “Yes, is that a problem?”

The guard halted halfway between the wall and where Rajac stood. “You actually made it out of that horrid place alive?” The guard said, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“I was lucky. During my journey, I only met a member of a manling-type race.” Rajac said shrugging. He felt, as if, the animosity of the guard was lessening but not completely gone.

“Truly then. Kasor be praised, you were indeed lucky. You must have passed through during one of the 'Dukes' seasonal wars. Else, you would have not survived." The guard said eyeing Rajac’s thin, yet tall frame. His well sculpted muscles lay hidden beneath the layers of cotton he wore creating the appearance of a thin, but not necessarily weak, man to those who saw him.

Rajac conceded the point to the guard, nodding succinctly. It would have been very unlikely that he would have been able to leave the Western Territories with his head on his shoulders if he met one of these 'duke's' armies.

“I thought you had come from Azor. We’ve been having some trouble with some of the refugees that have arrived in the past few weeks.” The guard spat, a look of disgust on his face.

“I have family in Azor. Has the war gotten that bad?” Rajac asked. He was concerned that something might have happened to his aunt, uncle, and cousin. If they perished, it further increased the possibility his race would be destroyed before he even had a chance to save it.

“No.” The guard said, shaking his head. “Some honest folk made their way here before the war even began but they aren’t the problem. Deserters have infiltrated their numbers creating a whole number of incidents in the few days they stayed in our village before we gave them the boot.

One of them even murdered our tavern owner ‘cause Balor wouldn’t let him leave without paying.”

“I am no deserter.” Rajac said harshly. He hated cowards who abandon their duties. In his past-life, he had gotten into a spot of trouble for literally dragging a private back to basecamp when he tried to desert right before deployment.

The guard looked him straight in the eyes. “No. I can see you’re not.” Removing his hand from the pommel of his sword, the guard said, as he extended a hand, “’Names Harl. You’re welcome in Thrensford, for now.” While Harl spoke calmly, Rajac could clearly tell the warning Harl inferred was not to be taken lightly.

“I’m only passing though.” As he shook Harl’s hand, Rajac asked, unable to keep an eager note out of his voice, “Tell me, do you know if there is an Identity Merchant in Thrensford or one of the surrounding villages?”

“Aye. But we share her with many other villages in the region.” Harl said nodding. “Gais [Gae’ie’es] won’t be back in Thrensford until the end of the month.”

Rajac felt his heart sink slightly. A whole month waiting for an Identity Merchant. He thought about just heading on to the nearest city but discarded that idea almost immediately.

Identity Merchants were few and far between. From what he knew, they usually congregated in larger cities much like merchants of regular stock. So, it was a fair bet, Rajac would not find one until he reached the capitol, a six-month trek by foot from his current location.

Sighing, Rajac came to the conclusion that staying here a month was his best option. An Identity Merchant could provide him with almost everything he needed. Maps, information, skill updates, and perhaps some clues as to where the Ventros might be.

He could receive all that here in one-month’s time. The only thing an Identity Merchant did not have was access to a Great Library. When Rajac had been researching the Renewal Eternal program what felt like millennia ago, he had read that each capital had a Great Library where millions-upon-millions of books were stored, most of them unique.

I just hope I don’t have to use a lot of money while stewing here. I don’t have a lot to spend in the first place Rajac thought, grimacing to himself, as he jingled his coin-pouch. All his savings were in there. Six gold coins, three silver, and twenty-eight copper.

“Where can I find rooms to stay in while I’m here?” Rajac said looking up at Harl. “Just go to the tavern. You won’t miss it at this time of night. Ask for Bella. Just don’t mention her father.” Harl said gravely.

Her father? Rajac paused, trying to think of the reason. It came to him. The man who was murdered by the deserter from Azor. “Right. I won’t.” Rajac said nodding. “Thanks for all your help.”

Rajac, once again, shook hands with the guard and walked into the village, looking for the tavern.

It was not hard to spot. As Rajac walked towards the center of the town, the wooden houses slowly diverged, widening the path every so often until the path became a square. One of the building in the square was lit with torches. There were so many, that the patrons inside were outlined as shadows on the outer-walls of the building.

As he approached, he heard raucous laughter drifting away from the large tavern. Hefting his pack on one shoulder, Rajac silently pushed open the door. He did not want to make a scene in such a place if he was to stay here for a month.

A few people stood by the door, tankards in their hands, chatting amiably. Rajac amiably excused himself and walked by them. Inside, the tavern was much as he would have pictured. It had a few shabbily crafted tables and the bar was more of a desk in the corner of the room, with a few barrels set on shelves behind it.

The inhabitants, however, were not what Rajac expected. As he squeezed through them towards the bar, Rajac was sure he saw an Akiean in their midst. They usually didn’t come this far west. There were also a few Fains; a bear-like race that had the ability to learn Cultivation Auxiliary Magic.

Shaking his head in wonder, Rajac pulled a stool away from beneath the bar and sat down with a huff. A human woman stood on the other side of the bar, multitasking as she took orders while simultaneously preparing drinks.

She had her blonde hair tied in a kerchief on top of her head and had a flush to her cheeks, making her green eyes stand out even more. Small freckles dusted her button nose suiting her young face perfectly. In short, she was breathtaking.

“What can I get you?” She said breathlessly, slamming into the bar with obvious exhaustion. A sheen of sweat dampened strands of hair as they began to cling to her pretty face. “Beer. Your cheapest.” “Three coppers.” She said without blinking an eye.

Grumbling at the price, Rajac handed over the money and watched as she took a tankard from behind the bar and filled it from the barrel on the counter. As she clanged the tankard in front of him, a waft of the sweet scent of barely filled him with joy. It had been a long time since he had beer.

Taking a swig of the stuff, he swirled the beer around in his mouth, attempting to taste all the beer at once. It was good. Really good. Bitter, with a hint of cinnamon. “Who made this?” Rajac asked curiously once the woman came over his way again.

The woman looked at Rajac then, a steely glint in her eyes, frowning. After a second, the look was gone. Turning from Rajac, her head bowed, she said, almost under her breath, “My father.”

A light suddenly popped on in Rajac’s head. “Are you Bella?” He blurted out without thinking. Immediately though, he regretted saying anything. “Sorry…It was just Harl said come find you at the tavern and ahh…”

He knew he shouldn’t have said anything. Of course, he would be the idiot who announced to her that he recognized who she was because of the obvious grief she showed when talking about her father.

“It’s no matter. The whole village has been talking about nothing else for months. Why did Harl send you here?” Bella said. There was still a hint of anger in her eyes but it was easily overwhelmed by curiosity.

“He said this was a good place to stay.” Rajac said. “It is the only place to stay.” Bella laughed softly, a warmth coming to her eyes. “How long do you plan to stay?”

Rajac shrugged. “A month or so.” “Ok. Give me a minute.” Bella turned and walked through the doorway behind the bar. After a minute, she returned with a small piece of parchment in her hand.

Without preamble, Bella said business-like, all hints of her earlier anger gone from her face, “We have a room on the third-floor for five silver a night.” Rajac opened his mouth, too shocked to say anything. “You want me to spend enough silver to buy a good bow each night?” Rajac finally said. He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice as he spoke. This place was trying to rip him off and the little money he had, would not last throughout his journey if he had to spend it all here.

Bella shrugged, indifferent. “This is one of the few places to stop before entering the Western Territories. Many hopeful adventurers coming from Gerosh, the Forests of Lethania, and the Empire of Tavinor, stop through here on their journey. We are usually fully booked but you were lucky that one of our guests left this very night and a room opened up.”

Rajac settled back down, his anger subsiding. At least there was a reason for the high prices. She wasn’t just trying to rip him off. He was still annoyed though as he handed over five silver for the night which she wordlessly accepted.

Even though he felt annoyed for the high price, he could not help but feel enamored with the girl behind the bar. In attempt to draw her into a conversation, Rajac pointed over to the few Fains happily downing their tankards, terrifying a serving girl when they let out a chorus of deep-rumbling laughter.

“Is that why they are here? To be adventurers?” “Maybe.” Bella shrugged. “They could be headed to Azor to fight in the war or they could just be wanderers. Their kind don’t tend to lay down roots.” Tilting her head in speculation, she looked closely at Rajac, squinting her eyes as if to see him better.

“What kind of race are you? I’ve never seen anything like you before?” Her eyes lingered on his horns for a long moment. Rajac shrugged, trying to appear uninterested in the question. He could not tell her the truth, of course. But, he had not, as of yet, come up with a good cover story when someone asked him that question.

She took his shrug as an answer in itself though. “You don’t know?” There was a look of pity on her face now as she reached out, gripping her hand in his. “You know,” Bella said leaning across the bar, “We have an Identity Merchant who comes here often. She’ll be here sometime in the next month. If you’re still here, you could ask to see her. She could tell you you’re race. If you’re willing that is.”

There was a hint of a blush crossing her face as she looked across the bar at him. Rajac smiled to himself. This played out rather nicely. “I’m actually in town for that very reason.” Rajac said as if admitting a great secret.

Bella smiled gently. “You’ll love Gais, she…” A customer called her over asking for a refill. She turned back to Rajac, telling him she would be back in a moment and she bustled off taking the customer’s order, a cheerful smile on her face.

In the blink of an eye, a month passed. In the morning Rajac would train in his room alone. He ignored the last two forms for now. He had achieved a level of understanding to the point where he knew that his dexterity and footwork were nowhere near the level they needed to be to even try to complete those forms. So, instead, he refined the first sub-group of the Ventros Sword Style.

He had come to call it the Unbroken Dance after both its attacking and defensive qualities. Every day he practiced this form, slightly altering a thrust here and there while working on centering his balance on every step.

In the afternoons, however, Rajac spent most of his time with Bella. Over the weeks, he got to know her rather well and lamented the day when Gais would arrive in Thrensford.

That day finally came, one afternoon, more than five weeks after Rajac had arrived in the village. He had become rather content with his life. Practice in the mornings and talking with Bella in the afternoons. But good things don’t last forever.

As Rajac was sitting at the bar, casually talking with Bella, Bella’s eyes suddenly diverted from his as she looked over his shoulder, an air of excitement about her person. “Gais your back!” She called excitedly. A mixture of eagerness and regret entered Rajac as he knew his time in Thrensford was over.

Setting his tankard down, he turned to the thin woman who stood in the doorway, a satchel slung across her chest. Gravely, Rajac stated, making his intentions clear, “Mistress Gais, I would like to use your services as an Identity Merchant.”

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