Hey, it's been a week and chapter 1 wasn't edited yet ! Aaaaah... I know... I'm sorry... lalala... Btw i started to have a habit giving chapters weird names... Anyway a lot less darker in this chapter and i even tried to be funny in this one part...'What a joke!' i know......... Aaaanyway enjoy this chapter and pls point out any spelling mistakes and/or missign words. Thanks!.... And yes one more thing in this chapter there is A LOT OF SWEAR WORDS, like A LOT. i warned you, you know....

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He was lying on his back, staring at the same grey sky. It’s been grey like this for the past 3 weeks he was here, cycling the dullness with even darker clouds, bringing stronger storms and hail. This time it was light grey, maybe some sun will even pop out in the next couple of days. The thought brought him a smile. He noticed a flock of birds moving in similar direction as he was. Looking closer he noticed that the birds looked different; the wings felt a little off. Then he noticed one of the ‘birds’ dropping a projectile, his reflexes forcing him to move away from the dead zone closer to the goat and the products. There wasn’t much of the former in the cart so there was plenty of room to make himself comfortable.

“Fecking ‘yrms. Fecking shittin’ erywhere.” – he heard a gruff voice of a peddler behind his back.

“Mweeeeeeeeh” – the goat replied, to its owner’s sorrowful words.

Nick tried hard not to laugh at this exchange, feeling just a little bit bad about himself.

He turned around to see what Rom was up to. Unsurprisingly, he was covering his face with his cape, trying to hide his smile. His body was also tensing, it was so obvious he was about to crack up.

Nick quickly turned back and covered his mouth, attempting to supress his laugh but ultimately failing. Rom heard him and couldn’t resist the urge either.

Peddler looked at both of them with a betrayed look, sighed and muttered something, while wiping away the shrapnel from the projectile away from his shirt.

“Mweeeeeeh” – the goat tried to encourage its master in these hard times.

A minute later when both of them calmed down, the road returned to its previous state of monotone clatter of hooves, hitting the ground on the silent road, surrounded by the silent plains inhabited by no one but the occasional farm, crows and ravens and other peddlers, some riding the same way as themselves or some the opposite and all of them seeming far better and well off then theirs Marren.

Nick looked at the sky, the direction where the strange birds flew away, now only black dots, disappearing into infinite grey, changing their tones to grey as each second flew by.

“Rom, what were those things?” – he asked, his gaze staring at the grey mass, further up just above the horizon, where the black dots have just disappeared.

“Wyrms, lesser dragon-kin. Sort of like a Chihuahua compared to Brehmrir.” – answered Rom, noticing Nick’s confused look.

“Chihuahua is like a sma…”

“I know what a Chihuahua is, thanks. Breh-mrir on the other hand I don’t know. What is it ?” –interrupted Nick, maybe, just maybe, with a little bit of a sarcasm in his voice.

“Hoh, Sire Mills, in Hjaalmar, ye not has these fe… bloody creatures?” – The answer Nick received was a question and from a peddler.

“Yes, I would imagine that they would at least give a rule book with monsters to young adventurers, in Hjaalmar? Or those adventurers would at least bother to just skim through them before asking stupid questions, don’t you think so Nick?” – Rom added nonchalantly, a payback for Nick’s sarcasm.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmm…” – the peddler turned back to the road, trying to be as quiet as possible, attempting to shrink away so they won’t drag him into their scuffle.

“Mweeeeeeeeeeh” – goat proclaimed, soothingly.

Marren knew that letting these two scvoia for a ride would be a mistake. In town they were known to fight verbally with each other all the time, but despite that seemed to be good lads. He knew Rom, personally, an acquaintance rather than a friend though. In reality what actually made Marren to consider, is that they were also feared in that same town. What was scary about them is that they were known to kill many high-grade tainted, which is already a feat that can only be done by a handful here in Kairin and maybe a hundred across the whole of Roan. What made them especially scary is the fact that some of the tainted that they fought were so utterly destroyed that only a stain or distorted mess of gore would be left from them. Nick Mills of Hjaalmar, a newcomer, a young stovmann just 20 years of age but already a master-scvoia and rank 3 adventurer in Roan in just 3 weeks. Then there is Rom Lisdeth a renowned master-scvoia known in each part of Roan both by commonfolk, nobles and fellow scvoia/adventurers, killer of many tainted and saviour of many towns, wielding the card of rank 1 adventurer. From one hand good protection for free, on the other giving a ride to two monster-killers, whom are monsters themselves.

“Ignorance is bliss. But not for a fucking mentor, Rom. You’re full of shit. But you’re also right I do have the book. So I apologize, for asking you a question you can’t answer. Though, I must give it to you, the evasion of my question was almost perfect, almost. So much for being a mentor, huh?” – replied Nick, first with visible anger but then with a mocking smile at the end. Seeing Rom’s expression his smile grew even bigger.

“Hm. Marren! You were wondering if I had any wyrms in my homeland? Well, we don’t have wyrms, nor do we have any… um, how was it?...oh,yes… Bremrer.” – Nick said as Rom was about to open his mouth.

“T-thank yeh, sire…” – Marren sheepishly replied, he wanted to disappear.

“Hahahahaha…Ho. It’s Brehmrir, you lightweight shit.” – Rom said with a hearty smile.

“Pft. Fancy hearing it from you, Mr. “Uuuuugh, I’ve had enough I’m tired. I’ll go to bed”, right after finishing one pint of honey-beer. Lightweight? Open your damn eyes, oldman!” – Nick replied, smile radiating brighter than the sky and his voice imitation skills lacking everything they could possibly lack.

“Hah! Whom did I drag out of the tavern, just yesterday? You can’t handle your shit, you lightweight alcohol-obsessed fuck!” – Rom countered, with a smile and a twitch in his brows.

“Mweeeh” – the goat added, trying to calm these two children down.

“Ye’, mah dea’. I ‘no. This’ll be a lon’ trip.” – whispered the peddler, while rubbing his ear.

He was not looking forward to the next 4 days.

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He was staring at the flame, shaking. Flickering quietly in the dark, placing the dark shade of sacks, not-so-full anymore, on one wall and himself on the one he was leaning on, it created the orange outline of their shapes, a thing that will last only a night… or a day, or half-day, maybe half a night or perhaps a little of a day and a little of a night. He already spent 5 days here and his sense of time grew distorted. This coupled with enormous headache, he was experiencing every day, made his progress relatively slow, particularly in the last couple of days… if it were days.

He glanced at the wall, just barely touched by the light. He came from there, if this is the wrong route…

Chills came down his spine, he wasn’t sure it was the cold or the fear. He sneezed, giving the wall one last look.

He sighed, glancing back at the fire.

The place was cold, so cold even the fire could only warm him a little, even though he was right in front of it. With each exhale, steam was coming out of his mouth and each time he was taking a breath his nose, chilled by frost, tingled in a strange charming half-pain, relieving him of a headache, just to bring it back the second later.

Covered by many layers of clothing, which he didn’t disregard to wash, he looked to the other wall, unbound by light, shrouded in the dark. It was both befitting as well as it wasn’t. Dark=the unknown, but he knew where it would lead. To the other choice. This labyrinth is all about those choices. ‘The chances to take, the choices to make’. Each turn you have two choices, either left or right, right or straight and left or straight. Kai knew there were more choices, he knew there even more that didn’t even know could be his choices, but giving up and dying was not a choice he would take, ever.

This labyrinth, the first time he entered it, he completed it within 4 days, simply walking without thinking, turning where it would be stupid to turn and walked straight where the wise would take turns. The second he did the same… and was lost and died from starvation. The next times he mapped it out, sometimes dying and sometimes passing to the next floors.

He shivered, looking back at the flame, flickering in this windless harmony of stone, dancing the dance only fire can perform, possibly calling forth to gods known only to it alone and places unfathomed by the human mind in the tongue of fire or telling us what is, might be and could be, with their mysterious shapes trying to word letters, or weave a picture with their threadlike blazes of different feelings some distant as if not his own, but some so very close and familiar, he knew them if not every day. They mixed in the fire, with each move of their dance producing silent cacophony of madness, hate and love become one, justice and corruption morphing together in a twisted creation, kindness and animosity, hope and doubt mixing with each other like a pallet of different colours creating an ugly mess, or at least supposed to. The flame weaved an image, and that image was weaved into a larger picture, a picture of a firestorm ever-creating destruction and seeding creation on the deathly remains of the old.

Fascinated by the fire, he didn’t notice the dim blue light coming from one of the sacks, where the mysterious glass ball was lying.

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‘Brehmrir [brekhm’rir], a mysterious, if not mythical creatures. Little is known about them. Originated from Brehan direwolf(p.155)*, these large species are capable of unrestricted teleportation as long as the end point has enough mana to sufficiently sustain them. Brehmrir are twice the size of Brehan direwolf, making them about 5.3 meters tall, largest naturally created animal in the dog family for exception of Zakirian War-Hound (p.203). There is a theory as to how Brehmrin was originated. During the fourth era of…’

“…is-‘is Sokolgrad, mommy?” – Nick heard a child’s voice, he looked up to see a line of men and women, young and old, stretching in about 100 meters across the bridge from a large gate, decorated with many strange writings, the so-called ‘protective runes’ and a statue of the falcon at the top of the gate. The wall was about 50 or so meters long, with defence towers located on each side, he saw three but was sure there was a lot more. Under the bridge you could see a wide river, down below about 10 seconds of falling.

Rom wanted to meet a friend of his here, before setting off to the Broken Land.

‘The Broken Land.’ – Nick thought of the words Rom told him. The place where they need to find a certain something as a price to pay to the fairy for healing Nick 2 weeks ago or supposed to pay.

He sighed, stretching on the cart, slightly touching the goat. It flinched and ‘told’ Nick that he was an asshole, or so he thought it to say so. It was much more entertaining to think that the goat actually had intellect. It would make all those times it tried to interject between his and Rom’s argument at least as twice as hilarious.

He smirked.

“Rom, is there some protective ward or magic set up around the city to prevent forceful teleporting?” – Nick asked, looking at the sky. It was grey.

“Hmmmm, read the fucking book…” – Rom replied, falling into his usual grumpy sleepy old man mode. It was already late morning but he was there, beside Marren, hunched on the seat, hibernating and being a dick.

Nick gave him a glare, but then smiled.

“All right, if that’s how you wanna roll, I can do it the other way.” – he said childishly, before he started singing.

It was one of those annoying catchy 90’s pop songs, something about a plastic doll.

He was loud, really loud. And he wasn’t bad, just utterly atrocious. Screwing up a note here, than making silly voices there.

People started looking in their direction and children pointing towards him.

Marren covered his face and regretted once again taking these people.

They done shit like this every day, if not Nick, then Rom, all to just piss each other and those around them off.

“Ye gods, please give ‘is man patience. Jus’ a lil left.” – he muttered under his bangs.

“…life in plastic, it’s fanta…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” – Rom snapped, causing even guards pay attention to their small cart.

“Shh!” – Marren hissed. He was on the verge.

Nick, baffled a little by Rom’s sudden sound attack, stood up, waved to the crowd of his ‘fans’, then to the guards, cleared his throat and then started another song same 90’s and same cancerous pop, except this song was about ‘questioning the existence of love’.

“Baby, don’t hurt meeeee..” – it was horrible, you could hear some in the crowd yelling ‘shut up’ and some laughing.

Rom was growling now, half-asleep.

Nick didn’t even stop when the guards were checking Marren’s papers, though he toned the volume of his beautiful voice, moving closer to Rom’s ear.

“Wha ‘bout ‘ese two madmen?” – the guard said, lifting his brow and giving the look to the men beside him. They were armed relatively well and the swords looked of good quality. Pity it was nothing to Nick’s ability.

“Ah, ‘ey scvoia. Sir Mills and Sir Lisdeth.” – said Marren, while Nick took out his adventurer card and reached in Rom’s pocket taking out his platinum one, with a song coming from his lips of course.

“Oh… L-Lisdeth, haha… Let them through.” – said the guard, quickly giving the paper back to Marren and stepping two steps back.

“Nick?” – Marren called. Nick asked him before to just call him by name, ‘sir Mills’ here and ‘sir Mills’ there annoyed him. He felt equal to the man, so he should be spoken to like equal to him.

“Yea~s, Marren?” – he stretched, yelling just a little in Rom’s ear, causing the other one to pull his hands up, from his ‘hunched position’ and grab him by the hair.

“Can yeh please, be a lil bit quiet now ‘at we’re in city?” – said Marren turning his head towards Nick, just to see him being pulled by the hair, to hit the board that was dividing them. Marren then sighed.

“Owowow, yeh sure. Ow! Fucking stop!” – he loudly whispered to Rom. – “Go asleep or something!”

“Well, thanks to you, I can’t now. So I’m gonna pay you back for ruining it for me.” – he said, straightening his position and turning around, his face glowing in a grin full of malice.

“…I’m sorry?”

Marren sighed.