Chapter 08

A new banner.

Five of Gryf and Zekaidean’s Anvil were dried nearly to a crisp. The embers had died long ago, and I added some fresh logs to renew the fire. I laid out Borea’s banner upon the bed and sat opposite of it, by the fire, to regard the item as I ate my hot chicken soup.

“Borea’s Flux,” the deity had called it.

I sipped the warm meaty broth. Flavors of chicken, celery, carrots, and cracked pepper filled my senses. Even at night, only lit by hearth light, the banner radiated a rich, deep blue. Reminded me of Arris’s Elder Azure Mana Totem from Magic & Lance. I could hardly believe the cloth could be this blue. I thought only metals from deep within the earth of Felke could possess such a rich and deep color.

There were a couple of problems that I needed to resolve: My flagstaff was short one eyelet, the pole had taken a very slight bow, the spearhead was bent at a right angle, I wasn’t entirely sure what my alignment to Borea would mean, and I was utterly curious about the lore and legend of the deity. Yea. A lot to deal with.

First things first. Hot chicken soup. I ladled out a few chunks of veggies and perfectly poached chicken. The broth was rich and meaty and buttery, and I felt completed by it. I was glad I forked out the extra copper for this dish. Came in a massive tin bowl too. Delivered right to my door—lucky me—for I would have certainly spilled the entire thing on my way up the stairs. Probably would have spilled everything all over my Borea’s Flux banner.

What an item! 250 points of mana regeneration. Once a day.

Until my mana pool was in the thousands, this was an excellent boon to have. More than made up for losing all my potions. Especially the one I’d spent a permanent mana point to level up its capacity.

I gave a great big sigh before diving in for another nourishing drink of broth.

I had a feeling I would be spending more permanent mana points on leveling up my flagstaff. Maybe I’ll even buy a new one.

I’d taken my time finishing my soup and fell asleep in the chair by the hearth. When I woke up, I was sore from having slept there unmoving all night.

As soon as I opened my door, the sounds of the trading post blasted through the hallway. I was happy to see that it wasn't as packed as it could be, which gave me a few hours to shop around.

The blacksmith told me to return after I got the flagstaff worked out and referred me to a carpenter. The carpenter referred me to a staff specialist.

“Name’s Henry,” the staff master said. “I see the problem already. You’ve got two options. Get a better staff, or get it repaired. It’ll take me sometime to repair it and honestly—I don’t recommend it.”

“You think I should get a better staff then? I need more eyelets if I do. How much do you think it’ll cost me?”

The journey I had to go through for a new flagstaff took a lot out of me. First I had to buy a feiron wood flagstaff for 25 silver. It was also wood, but sturdier, hardier, and with charcoal grain. Then I had to pay a rune master 1 silver per rune, plus another silver level of the rune in order to transfer Fist of Wind, and Life-steal. Those two cost me 6 silver to transfer. Then I purchased a pyramid point spearhead which was installed with ease. That cost me 4 silver.

My total cost for a new flagstaff came to 35 silver. Most I’d ever spent on anything. I still had 80 silver and 20 copper, so I think I was doing alright so far.

My new flagstaff was just as tall, about a head's height above me. The feiron wood of the flagstaff was denser and charcoal colored. There were twice as many handles that alternated from the top and eight eyelets with isolation runes. Life-steal still flowed its dusk colored sheen along the whole staff. The whole weapon was a bit heavier which meant that I would only grow stronger from wielding it.

Now my flagstaff had the silver Five of Gryf ribbon; the white and grey Fist of Wind rune; the grey, and green bordered Zekaidean’s Anvil flag; and the rich azure blue Borea’s Flux banner, which hung vertically.

I lost the 3 levels of durability my previous flagstaff had but I gained a single durability level from the new banner. My flagstaff’s new level was 11, but there were still some leveling I wanted to do with it.

In my room above the inn, I cast my mana bar wide. I dropped my flagstaff into its center and the weapon hovered there. The articles all wavered as though underwater. Gold rectangular brackets formed above each component of the flagstaff denoting every item’s levels.

It was time to spend some permanent mana points. I had the runic stylo Garmar had given me from the guild, and a rune Bron had sketched for me after he said he’d help me with leveling things up. It was a power rune, used to improve the effect of any item. The rune allowed a user to permanently spend mana on it in order to level up the power of an item. Zekaidean’s Anvil was a slow magic, so I decided to use it on Five of Gryf. The ribbon was already at a level 2 durability reflected by two gold brackets hovering above it, curving in line to form the beginning of a circle.

I touched the tip of the runic stylo to the uppermost part of my mana bar. The two connected as though magnetic. A single point of mana absorbed into the stylo. It tore from my mana bar like ethereal spider’s silk. My mana bar shrunk by one point down to 58.

I copied the power rune in mid air above my flagstaff. The brightness from my mana cast my room in wavering blue lights. The stylo left behind a gold gossamer ink that left the rune wavering as though in a heat wave.

Upon completion, I touched the stylo to the rune once more and dragged the whole thing down to the Five of Gryf ribbon. The power rune shrunk as it descended and wove itself into the fabric by the grommet. The rune dimmed as it set itself into the ribbon and a gold bracket appeared above it.

Five of Gryf now was now at a level 2 durability, and a level 1 power. I set the runic stylo down and flowed another permanent mana point into the power rune, bringing the power to 2. With 2 levels of durability and 2 levels of power, Five of Gryf was now a level 4 ribbon that would heal for 7 points of health when used.

“Is that right?” I muttered. “Does that make sense?”

Bron had explained to me that power runes increase the damage or effect of an item by 1 point per mana spent on it—so I mean—the math checks out right?

Anyways, in the end, I knew that the power rune and an extra mana point brought the level of my flagstaff to 13.

The next day I asked for directions to the Klayvale library. The walk over was wonderfully refreshing. Droplets of mist lazily swayed through the streets, and folks and adventurers appeared and disappeared through the mist.

The library didn’t have what I was looking for and the librarian had told me, “you’ll want to go to the temple of Borea if you want anything on her. We have some literature, but since her temple is so near, you’ll have a plethora of reading there.”

The temple had its own “archives,” one of Borea’s subjects said, as she led me to the grand chamber. Torches burned with auroras in place of fire and not a single shadow persisted.

“Thank you—uh…” I said, searching for her name again.

She gave a dilatory bow and said, “Bryell. Of course Tosin Siege. We are pleased with you’ve aligned with us. You bear Boera’s Flux, and are welcome here for it. Please make yourself at home. I will return with bread and water.”

Within the next hour I was sitting on a thick couch with my bread and water, and a stack of books. One of the books covered Boera’s Ladle, but for now I was interested in “Boera The Replenisher. Boera’s Flux. Volume I.”

Boera had been born a deity. Legends said that she was delivered from the deepest ocean trenches and her mother was made of azurite. A deepsea fisherman had found a blue baby floating quietly at sea.

“I saw an infant. A baby at sea—and she was blue, from head to toe, swaddled in her own hair. Hair that was thrice her length. She wasn’t frightened. She was smiling. When I plucked her from the water, I saw that she’d been floating on a nest of magik [mana]. I brought her on board. We fed her, took care of her.”

Beneath the dialogue was written: “Mana at this time and place had been known simply as magik.”

Then the story continued. Being deepsea fishermen, they’d gone far out to sea. Enough had been caught so the fisherman and his crew sailed straight back to port. During the voyage, they were in utter disbelief. They couldn’t believe their eyes.

“We’d leave her to nap in a box stuffed with old, torn sails. We didn’t keep too much of an eye on her—on account we had to man the ship. Then Barnabe came hollering with, ““Captain come look here!”” And I looked; she’d grown a whole human year in age! Everytime she was left alone, she would grow another year. So I sat with her, open eyed, worried she’d age too fast and die—and I couldn’t let that happen—not on my ship, not as captain of my ship! Alas, I couldn’t stay up for days on end. None of us could while still navigating treacherous waters. In the span of a week, she’d grown to become a young woman.”

Boera’s evolution among the men grew more and more odd as the days went on. She would appear suddenly, then disappear from sight just as quickly. When storms assailed the ship, and waves punched at the bow and struck against the stern, and lightning hissed with insidious barbed fangs, Boera kept the men safe. She raised her arms and cocooned the ship in wavering blue auroras.

When the ship finally came to shore, Boera was missing. All that remained was a new figurehead on the prow of the ship. Its likeness to Boera was uncanny.

“Crazy,” I said and munched on another piece of bread. I downed the herb crusted sourdough with the water I’d been given, and it must have been my imagination that I could taste the coastland and the sea.

The legend went on to trace appearances of Boera throughout the coastal lands of Felke. Similar stories were chronicled and I carefully read through each of them. The deity was always born blue and went through similar evolutions.

Men who could not know each other shared eerily similar tales. Men who could not read, shared similar tales centuries later. Tales found chronicled in books.

In all these stories, sometimes Boera’s likeness manifested as a figurehead upon a prow. Sometimes sails were stained with an impossible blue. Sometimes ships would sail undisturbed through lethal weather, and then more than a dozen ships are said to have been pulled to safe waters on the line of a mysterious blue rope.

Some sailors found blue banners neatly folded in barrels in their ship’s cargo holds. The banners were found to replenish mana, earning the deity her quick following throughout the land. Men and Women of Felke were inspired.

Ships were then ransacked by enthusiasts looking to profit from any trace of the deity that could be salvaged. Thus many of Boera’s artifacts had gone missing. Among a long list, I found Boera’s Ladle. Beside the list were a number of different handwritings. Notes were being kept on the whereabouts of each item, rumors, or if they’d been secured. If they were secured, the location was listed. From my brief survey, it seemed as though there were hundreds of Boera’s temples throughout Felke.

It seemed that she was well respected and I felt good about my new alignment. I had no idea what it would mean down the road, but I was looking forward to someday being called upon to quest for the deitie’s ladle.