Volume 1: Arc 2: Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I've already set up the thread for Questions and Comments and have already started to update it based on people's comments.

It can be found here. http://www.royalroadl.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=14626

Also, Arc 1 only had 3-5 more chapters left. I should have one or two more done by this weekend and I'll post them when I'm done.

P.S. I apologize if this chapter is somewhat boring. It's a transition chapter and I couldn't very well skip over a lot of the information imparted in this chapter. But it is important to set up the next few chapters. I may have the next, and far more interesting, chapter out tonight.

Unknown Date

Rajac breathed deeply as he walked out of his stone cage. The guard on duty outside looked surprised as Rajac ripped the door open. He opened his mouth, about to shout a cry, just as Rajac whipped his hand up, slapping against the guard’s neck, cracking the vertebrae within.

What the Circle taught him above all else was that any hesitation could spell his death. He would not make such a simple mistake in the first moments after his escape.

Lowering the guard to the ground, Rajac pulled the short-sword from the guard’s belt with a quick flourish. It was a fine blade, a few nicks here-and-there, but in good shape nevertheless.

Stepping over the guard’s slumped body, Rajac began to make his way up through the coliseum. There was no one there to meet him. It was the middle of the day in winter. Few, if any, would brave the winds to stand outside at this time of year.

Rajac felt nothing, though. Years of acclamation to the elements had tempered his response to the freezing weather of Abria.

As his long, dark hair tumbled in the wind, Rajac made his way to the top of the coliseum, looking over the edge. A small village lay a few miles distant. He thought it was called Kanrock, but he had little contact with others in the many years he had spent in the Circle. After all, he was the entertainment. No one wished him to speak; they only wanted him to kill or to die.

Jumping down from a height that must have been thirty paces high, Rajac landed lightly on his toes, the ground caving in slightly at the impact. A calmness overtook him as he walked. The eagerness he had felt so long ago about finding his people was gone. It had been obliterated by the many years he had spent killing and training.

Eagerness egged on the foolishness of his past. Logic was key in all situations. He had learned this at great expense. Muhal was the test that he failed entirely. But it was a test that hardened him. Refined who he was and made him better for it. He thought that if he met Muhal this very day, it was likely he would come out victorious. But, then again, he would not so recklessly fight him in the first place without knowing Muhal’s limits.

As he made his way to the village, Rajac passed a few closely knit farms that had a few Adras working them, huddled in their cloaks as they braved the cold. Adras were common in these parts. Rajac had seen them often in the Circle. They were a human variant race. Smaller than humans, they had a reddish-hue and thin, almost waspish faces.

Rajac watched the Adras closely as he walked closer to the village. They held no fear or tension of any kind in their posture as they worked. Rajac would have thought differently. Abria was called a prison by many within the region. It was well known, once a person entered Abria, he never left.

Then why are they so calm, Rajac mused as he walked. While there were weary expressions among the Adras, it was only from the hard work of plowing the fields; not due to fear over their imperious overlord.

Rajac entered the village quietly. There wasn’t even a guard at the entrance to the gate. He needed to find any information about the Ventros he could. But, he could not alert anyone to his presence. Looking down at himself, he saw the knotted scars that crisscrossed his body from years in the Circle and the thin rags that covered him.

He looked no better than a beggar. That would have to change. Something with a hood would be preferable. He need something to hide his appearance. This close to the Circle, someone could put two-and-two together and recognize him, thus ending his rescue attempt before it began.

The main street of the village was quite busy. Market stalls set up on either side of the small road were selling their wares as Adras, Elves, Humans, and numerous types of variant races roamed the street, though Adras were the most populous.

Rajac skirted the road, attempting to not be noticed. It was hard. He looked remarkably different than the rest of the customers with his horns and rags. As he neared a small alleyway, he saw a rather large human wearing a fur cloak with a hood.

A small smile touched his lips even as he felt disdain at what he was about to do. The man was ambling along, stopping here and there, buying a few bobbles of this and that but not really shopping for anything in particular it seemed.

Rajac walked up next to the man, feigning ignorance, as he bumped into him. As the man turned towards him, an indignant look on his face, Rajac threw him bodily into the alleyway, hiding his action with his back.

The man hit the side of the alleyway with a thump, collapsing instantly. Carefully, Rajac walked over to the man, removing the cloak and a small money pouch attached to his belt. The cloak was a brown fur, with a thick cotton interior. As Rajac draped it over himself, and threw the hood up, it felt very comfortable. The money pouch that was just an added bonus. As Rajac looked inside, he was surprised to see four gold inside.

Chuckling to himself, Rajac walked back out onto the street, none the wiser. No longer having to hide his presence so completely, Rajac walked in the middle of the street, looking for a good place to find information.

As he came to a small square, he saw a request board nailed into the ground. People were milling around it, casual reading requests and announcements made in the village. Rajac walked up to it, curious.

There were notices of gatherings in the village, announcements of when the Circle held fights, requests to find lost pets, and wanted posters. Rajac began to thumb through wanted posters.

If he was right, the Ventros surely would be on here. They were in the territory but rarely seen. And when they were, it was usually when they raided a village for supplies or a caravan for gold. Thus, they were not well liked. He had been on the receiving end of many crude remarks during his years in the Circle.

Ah, here it is. Rajac pulled on a faded and torn piece of parchment nailed to the wall of the board, ripping it free. Rajac read it carefully, not wanting to miss any of the details.

Request To Capture Dead Or Alive Ventros Vagabonds The Village of Nahail requests an individual or individuals to capture dead or alive the Ventros Vagabonds. Their last known destination was to the north of our village. Approximate Number: 50 Warriors. Unknown Number of Civilians.Reward2 gold for every warrior captured. 1 silver for every civilian captured.

Rajac folded the request into his cloak, his heart thumping hard. They were out there and he knew an approximate location. Though, this request appeared to be from long ago and not fulfilled as it remained on the board. Were the Ventros in this region strong or were they just good at hiding?

He hoped it was the former as he walked away from the board and towards a tavern on the other side of the square. He needed to find some current information on this request and the Ventros’ location. Careful to make sure his hood hid his face, he walked into the tavern.

It was a flat, unassuming building with a small front entrance that creaked slightly as Rajac entered. This early in the morning, only a few patrons occupied the tables. Most were eating with friends or relatives but none were drinking.

The tavern owner, a wide-set Adras, with a thin mustache, looked on sullenly as his customers refused to order the source of his profits. Rajac walked up to him, his head lowered, and sat down at the bar, with a small sigh of relief. He had been walking all morning after all.

Instantly, the tavern owner brightened. In a chipper voice, he said, “What can I get you? Ale? Beer? Brandy?” “Ale.” Rajac rasped in a low voice.

Another precaution, even though he doubted it, it could be possible for some to recognize him just by his voice. The tavern owner raised his eyebrows in surprise at the deep voice but said nothing as he filled tankard.

After a moment, he handed the tankard over to Rajac, whom began to drink greedily from it. It had been a long time since he had ale. Ever since he had been kept in the Circle.

Time to find out some basic information. “Tell me,” Rajac said slowly to the tavern owner, “What is the year, the name of the province, and of this village. Also, what area of Vashin are we in? I’m recovering from some nasty mind magic and my memories have been swirling for the past few days.”

Rajac had no idea if there was such a thing as mind magic but it was plausible. The tavern owner thought so as he nodded speculatively. “Oh, you’re an adventurer.” “Of sorts.” “Ha.” The tavern owner chuckled. “We get all sorts in here. Very well,” He said as Rajac passed over a silver coin for the drink and his trouble. Winking, the tavern owner pocketed the coin and said, “The year is 29 R.E. Just turned into February in fact. We are in Kanrock Village in the province of Abria, ruled by the benevolent Lord Gaya. It is in the North-East, just beyond the Akiean Kingdom.”

Rajac nodded. The tavern owner confirmed most of what he already knew. Though, it was a surprise to be so close to the Akiean Kingdom. His heart also sunk slightly with the confirmation that it had been nine years since he had seen his family. Little Nisa would be fourteen this year.

He hid his laminations though. They could wait until he had time to further examine them. “Thank you, my friend.” Rajac said gruffly. “Though, I am curious, why do you call your lord benevolent?” The tavern owner blinked. “Because he is. There is only one law and most aren’t fool enough to break it. Compared to Abria, the other regions controlled by the God Races are nightmares to reside in.”

The tavern owner eyed Rajac then. “Though, as an adventurer, you must’ve broken his law countless times. You’re either strong enough to get past the guard or lucky enough to circumvent then.” Rajac shrugged uncomfortably. His fight with Muhal was not something he wanted to bring up.

“Suppose.” Rajac said. Attempting to change the subject, he pulled out the request and handed it over to the tavern owner. “I came here because of this. I’ve been searching for the Ventros in the surrounding regions for years now and this is the first I’ve heard of them in quite some time.” Rajac lied smoothly.

“Oh hoho.” The tavern owner chuckled heartily. “I’ve met your ilk before, adventurer. Many come searching for them but I’ve never heard of one actually being caught. Well,” he shrugged, “Except that bloke over at the Circle.”

Rajac ducked his head even lower. “I’ve come for information. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard of them last. This request is the most recent location I know even though it appears years old.”

The tavern owner looked down at the request. “Yes. Yes.” He murmured. “Nahail is a few days north of here. I’ve heard that they actually found out where the Ventros have been hiding. Though, that was years ago. I’ve sent others in that direction but they never return.”

Rajac hid his excitement as he said gruffly. “And where is that?” “There is a forest to the north west of Nahail. From here, you should be able to reach it within a week.” The tavern owner said as he handed back the request.

“Thank you.” Rajac said as he rose, clanging down his empty tankard. “I wish you luck, my friend.” The tavern owner murmured as Rajac opened the door to leave the tavern. “You’re going to need it.”

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