From the shadowed depths below the Tall Forest, Herman Benoble clapped his hands together to pray, preparing his body and mind to climb the trees all the way to the clouds above. The only traces of light bounced off from tree to tree coming in from the eastern horizon blocked by the barriers of massive trees, only gilding slightly as the sun was finally settling for the night. The sun didn’t come down through the bushy tops of the trees; they couldn’t. The green ceiling blocked the sun. Depending on where you were in Wargon, the western coast of Wargon had sunlight in the morning while the east had some just before twilight. And in the center of the kingdom, there was never any light at all.

Despite that, all of the darkness, the ground was greener than even the fields of Gleon and Soucrest, arguably even Lyce, Wargon’s neighbor Kingdom up north. The Tall Forest was about the most mystical place found in Valoria. Having traveled worldwide, from the Arid Plains of Brontos to the Tower itself in Lyana, the Forest appeared more elven than human. Despite that, only humans lived here. Well… not here on ground level; only wild animals lived below the ever-eclipsing branches. Herman looked up to see the large hangars holding Wargonian society. They lived there, on rectangular platforms suspended as they rested on beds of clouds.

He took a breath and walked along the root, taking thin, tight steps up a couple of feet off the ground to reach the massive trunk of a tree. Pulling his hands back from the creases of the tree base, he found enough leverage to climb. He found lips of bark to anchor his feet.

About thirty feet up, with much, much more to go, Herman noted the scaled bark wasn’t like it used to be. The shell, the scales of the bark itself, started to crumble over the years. However, it expedited his climb as there were about as many holes on the tree as a chain-link fence.

The trees here don’t seem to be holding up too well, Herman thought. In my younger days, the trees were smoother, more intact. The environment here is dying. But why? What can we do? What can I do?

It took him about thirty minutes to climb to the first branch extending off the tree. He loosened his arms and knees as he found his footing on the wide branch. Even with the vicious wind blowing from his left, the wood under him was about as wide as most city streets. He walked across the wood, looking down to the ground floor lost to the darkness and fog.

The most Herman could see past the other trees near the eastern front was a glimpse of Valoria from far above. He hadn’t toured Wargon since his fifties, and it was still as wonderful as always, only with signs of deterioration. But that was life. His body was decaying like the trees, despite his best efforts. So had life in general; once so great, so prime, it had crumbled before him. Life was a collection of everything happy and horrible, and over the past twenty years or so, only remnants of the comfortable remained, while all the awful never seemed to fade.

War, loss of family, the sins in his life growing and growing all seemed to culminate to create a massive burden on Herman’s shoulders. But while living his life to be free and as sinless as he could make it, he managed to find a hint of happiness in what should have been a grief-ridden life.

Herman walked up the branch to get a better view. Here, he could see past a few of the trees and view Valoria from above. He could see the mountainous region of Norcrest and Reece, the desert plains of Avarich, the desert along the coastline opposite Anfana across from it. Herman smiled at the absurdity of the Tower. It was almost funny that he could see the Tower in its most transparent form, but not the continent for which it erected. Amazing, how the Tower was so large, it outreached even the Tall Forest and could be seen from both an ocean and an entire continent away.

This is what I live for, Herman thought, viewing Valoria from above. The world, seeing it from every angle, from the heights of Honoria, all the way down from the depths of hell, I won’t stop until I see and understand everything.

Halfway down the branch, he encountered several rows of chains wrapped around the surface, extending diagonally down to the edge of the town platform. The large town had enough space to house hundreds, with the potential to expand even further beyond. The pillars directly under the platform spiked through the top of the branch, with a bell-shaped lock on top to keep the hangar secured. Mixed with how heavy the hangar was with the chains and the spiked pillars, the wind didn’t even affect the hangar at all, keeping it steady.

He neared a small, wooden shed at the top of the platform. Herman opened the door to find a hole at the bottom and a ladder going down. A stone hanger attached to a pulley feeding a cord down from inside the shed down alongside the ladder. Grabbing the hanger, Herman sighed before mustering the courage to leap.

The slow descent always caught Herman off guard. He thought he would be gliding down wildly, barely halted enough to keep the drop from killing him. But instead, he descended down at a calm, moderate pace. The height wasn’t so bad. He could likely have skipped the hanger and ladder altogether and only suffer an aching leg at the most if he chose to jump. Halfway, he met the anchor rising beside him, barely lighter than him, allowing the pulley to operate at a more controlled speed.

When he ascended down, he released the hanger. The anchor came down gentle, meaning the pulley regulated its speed so it didn’t crash down. Good thing too, Herman would have had to spend a day or so repairing the possible incident if it had come to that.

It was moments like these where Herman still struggled with his human nature. He’d rather get to his destination quickly than take his time to arrive without risk.

The risk being the inconvenience of the workers who would have to repair his destruction. Hannan had taught him compassion for humans. Objects were simply objects from the outside, such as the hanger, the rope, and the anchor of the pulley. But it was what those objects meant to the people they affected, which was what truly mattered. It may be unimportant to him, but of the technicians who used it every day, these inanimate things were the difference between a leisurely day of work and a hard day.

Herman stretched, long overdue, but he preferred to do such things when the ground was flat. The branch towns of Wargon could be summed up as “compact” with narrow valleys between walls, half of any typical street in any grounded cities. The buildings were square, with slanted roofs cutting the wind up to create brash whips of whistling air.

Despite being so compact, the city itself was painted and decorated with Wargonian culture. Dark green vines climbed up the brown walls originating from large pots placed alongside the buildings. Pink and yellow petaled flowers grew from the vines, giving the mystical feel only Wargon and Anfanan cultures could provide.

Herman looked up to see his true destination. The top of the Tall Forest. This town was only a pit-stop on his journey there, where there were even grander cities than this. He headed for the pulley elevator up there, not wanting to climb too high up, afraid his oxygen would run low.

Damn deteriorating body…

Before he could make it there, a few men stopped him all at once.

“Whoa there,” one of them said, shorter to the other two around him. “You aren’t from here, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” Herman bowed his head. “What gave it away?”

“Your skin,” a taller man wearing glasses said. He had a nice vest on, but not so nice pants, cut up to show his golden-brown skin. “You’re from Gleon?”

“Well, I’m from all over the world at this point,” Herman admitted. “I tend to circle around the discovered world, visiting the wonders.”

“Whoa!” the third one said. He had the youngest appearance of all of them, helped by his big brown eyes. “You’re an adventurer?”

“I’m more of a traveling hermit,” Herman laughed. “I journey, usually alone to enlighten myself through Hannan’s teachings.”

“Hannan?” the tall one asked. “He’s the Warrior from Gleon, right? We don’t hear much of him up here.”

“Not many do,” Herman said. “But worry not, all of the Seven Warriors have their own merits and flaws, all valuable to understand. In Wargon, you all primarily practice Montra, isn’t that right? Montra the Pacifist.” Herman excluded the word brutal out of the Warrior’s title since that word often struck a chord among his more modern followers.

“That’s right,” the short man said. “My name is Denko, and they are Benji and Lake.”

“I’m Benji,” the taller man said.

“And I’m Lake. What’s your name?”

“Herm,” Herman replied.

“Herm? Herm the Hermit?” Denko laughed. “Come take a drink with us. We would love to hear of your travels.”

Herman regarded his request, peering past their shoulder to see the lift unoccupied with the worker waiting in a chair nearby. The sign beside his head said the lift closed down shortly after sundown, meaning if he took the drink, he wouldn’t make it to the top until tomorrow.

But looking at the three excited men in front of him, notably Lake—who by his curious expression reminded Herman of his son—he couldn’t just say no. “Sure, I suppose I have time.”

“Great!” Benji said. He held open the pub door. Vines masked the front of the building, with the design underneath barely visible. The only reason the three knew this was a pub was that they lived here all their lives.

They entered and took a seat. It seemed as if half the town was in this single pub, with the bartender calling out each of their names as they entered. He asked for Herman’s name, and he replied the same name he had given to the three men. Herm.

At this point in his life, Herman didn’t like recognition. Not that he would if he had given out his full name, but it was a risk he would rather not take. He’d rather be Herm the Faithful instead of Herman Benoble, once a household name to all. Thankfully, he had been disregarded by most over the past few years, forgotten as most Gleonish often were in Valoria.

He sat down next to the three men, and they all shared a drink first before talking. Herman joined them by sipping on some ale but not divulging as much as the youth who sat around him. His body was never too fond of alcohol.

“So you’ve seen the Wonders?” Lake asked. “What left do you have left to see?”

Herman laughed. “I’ve seen all of them.”

“Even the Tower of Levi?”

“I’ve done more than see the Tower; I’ve studied inside of it.” Herman grinned.

“You what?” Benji asked. “Impossible, the elves would never let a human into the tower.”

“Just because the inverse would be true,” Herman waved a finger, “and the humans wouldn’t let the elves into the Tower if it were theirs, doesn’t mean the elves wouldn’t let a human in. We humans tend to look down narrow lens, thinking through collective thoughts rather than individually. Though, I must admit, getting in wasn’t so easy.”

“How did you do it then?” Denko asked. “Did you sneak in?”

“Well, no, I would never break the rules to achieve something like that. Like cheating at games, it takes all the accomplishment out of it to forge your advantage, don’t you agree? So no, I did what I had to do. To enter the Tower, I first had to prove that I was worthy.”

“How did you do that?” Lake asked, perked up and seemingly enjoying the story.

“I climbed the tower,” Herman grinned. “All the way to the top, almost blinded myself doing so.”

“Impossible,” Benji complained. “You can’t climb a tower like that. It’s taller than even the Forest we live on.”

“Correct,” Herman took another sip. “It took me three whole days to reach the top. Unlike these trees, grips weren’t easy to find. And, of course, the crystal knob at the top reflected the sun’s light so blindingly, I couldn’t even look up during the daytime. But, I did it, accomplished it, and after greeting those at the top from the outside windows, they let me inside.”

“Prove it,” Benji said.

“Prove it?”

“How do we know you’re not just pulling our legs, old man?”

Herman reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin, clear crystal with only a trace of pink light seen on the crest. Small enough to fit in his pocket, light as a feather but as hard as a rock.

“What’s this?”

“An emptied out Soulgem,” Herman explained.

They poked around with the casing, handing it off to each other to all hold and examine. Lake awed over the case for a long minute before handing it back to Herman. They looked at it as if they’ve never held a normal Soulgem either.

With it in his hand, Herman squeezed it in his palm, and for a moment, life returned to the casing, and it glowed a soft pink. “A trick I learned in the tower,” he said, handing it back to Lake. “If you think hard enough, feel hard enough, you can put a part of your own soul into the shell. It’s called ‘Exchange Theory.’ It’s not common knowledge, but when humans wield Soulsmithed swords, when elves use wands, or when somebody drinks a potion swole-brewed with Soulgems, the transfer of power from one soul to another takes place.”

Herman reached over, taking Lake’s half-full glass of ale and bringing it over to his own. He started pouring Lake’s drink into his own, up until the point the ale began to overflow and spill out onto the table. “This is what it’s like when you absorb another soul into your body. Your souls are already at max capacity inside your bodies, much more, and it starts to overflow and create a mess. What the scientists in the Tower are trying to figure out is how you can shelve some of your own soul so you can accept a portion of another’s.”

“What would that achieve?” Denko asked.

“Could be many things,” Herman explained. “For one, it could allow humans and elves to fight longer using their weapons before becoming sick. Though, of course, if a soul doesn’t leak out, it holds, so it could all be temporary. We are trying to figure this out, all without knowing why Soulgems offer us power we can’t use while we are alive. Some medicinal practices as well, as some die to Soulsickness when drinking potions, so removing a part of the Soul to open the way for more would prove beneficial to the patient. Another possible route one could go with exchange theory is marriage.”

“Marriage?”

“Any of you three married?”

Denko showed his right ring finger with a shiny emerald crested on top. “Engaged,” he said.

“Congratulations!” Herman smiled with the others. Benji rubbed Denko’s shoulder, and Lake had such a happy, gaping grin. These three were genuine friends. “So maybe you’ll be interested in what could come in the future. The idea of exchange theory is that couples could bond part of their souls together. Alternatively, after their deaths, they could combine their souls so that they can live happily in the afterlife. At the least, it’s possibly just a cutesy thing to do with the one you love.”

Denko hesitated. “That means our bodies will have to rot and all for them to grab our souls, right?”

Herman nodding. “Of course, that’s why you could always do it early while you are still alive, just a little part.”

“Are you a fan of science?” Benji asked. “You seem excited about this.”

“A fan of science? Depends. Science can achieve many wonderful things and many atrocities all at once. The Tower is an institute of knowledge built inside a shaft of the deadliest weapon known to Gemkind. I’m more a fan of culture, and how it was like in the past, what it’s like now, and what it will be in the future. Exchange theory sounds interesting, but it will come long after my death and even longer after the deaths of the two I loved the most.”

They all looked at him solemnly, unsure what to say about his statement.

Herman smiled wide. “What are you doing, frowning at an old geezer like me? You’re getting engaged! The next round is on me.”

They all lifted their glass. Lake took his glass back from near the mess Herman made from his example and joined the other. “And another extra for me.”

Herman smiled. He enjoyed the times like these, meeting new people. He chatted about their lives. Lake was a season away from ascending to the top to attend college. Denko was going to build a farm inside his house, then sell the produce to the town. And Benji was already a high-level construction manager working at the top, who took time off to visit his two best friends down in this town.

There was a lot for Herman to do in his life. The people he learned about, the cultures he visited, and the time he spent lost in it all made him envious at times of those with mundane, normal lives. Herman couldn’t stand still, not while there were people out there that needed to be understood.

Compassion was Hannan’s primary teachings. Love and care for everyone. While Herman still had time left in this world, he could still help others in need. Soon after exploring the cities at the top of the Tall Forrest, he’d hopefully have his meeting with the Wargon king. After, Herman had to hurry back down the forest and head east.