Chapter 1

Interruptions

Countryside

West Æshorenth, Æshorenth, Vol’Tyr

“Lost.”

Caliz tore his eyes from the scenery to glare at his companion. He hadn’t been in Vol’Tyr[1] since he was a child and never this far south. The trees and greenery were more than enough to keep his attention until she distracted him.

“We’re not lost. We’re on a bleeding path.”

“No. Lost.”

“Osa, there’s not that many wrong turns we could have taken yet.”

He was no stranger to the winding road of a mountain pass. This excursion had taken him from his longest home high atop a mountain pass, after all. His companion, meanwhile, had little experience with the switchbacks and shifting.

“Where?”

“What? Probably a couple desses from Unalon.”

“But where here?”

Caliz sighed and stared out the window and the wagon rattled over the dirt road. It was a fine road, really, roads were getting better every dess by Caliz’s estimations. Especially the road from Killara[2] to Teral[3]. The Khanate[4] wanted to make the trip as easy as possible for any traders.

“Not lost if boat.”

“I told you, we couldn’t have taken a boat.”

They took a boat down from Kul’Karan[5] to Killara, and Osa had taken well to it. She rather resented the wooden box they were forced to travel in now.

“Water town.”

“It’s on a river, not a coast.”

“Water. Town.”

“Taking a boat up that river would have been a nightmare!”

“If boat, not lost.”

“We’re not lost, you fucking… Augh, we’re on a path, for Light’s sake!”

“Where?”

She cocked her head, looking through her brow at him, and he turned his head to the window, taking in the trees and sunset. He could almost see to the coast past the burnt trees on the southern side of the road. Strange, he considered as he looked at the vibrant forest to the north, how fire never hops a proper road. No other roads in sight, he sighed and whipped around to slide the glass window open to the driver.

“Can I help you,” the driver asked in his native Kilio[6].

“Where are we,” Caliz asked in Antrian[7].

“What d’ye mean,” the driver gave in, switching to Antrian.

“I mean, do you know where we are?”

“Of course I know where we are. We’re a half-dess from Unalon[8].”

“You’re sure?”

“What, you wanna drive the fucking wagon?”

“No, no, we’re good. Just… checking.”

He closed the window and slid into his seat, staring at the enormous snake woman across from him.

“Lost.”

“She— You— She just—” Caliz stammered and motioned at the window, perfect frustration on his face.

“No. You lost.”

“You! You…” Caliz scrunched up his mouth, glaring at the smug snake. “I didn’t think you had wordplay down, bleeding bitch.”

She smiled a row of horrifying needle-like teeth at him and he grimaced.

“Don’t think I’m less.”

“Underestimate. The word you want is underestimate. Estimate means guess, like a smart guess.”

“Under. Esstimaaate.”

“Perfect,” he nodded, slumping further into his seat. “Fuck, what are we doing here, Osa?”

“Jobs.”

“Well yes, of course, jobs, yeah, but, like… I was solid. I was good. I had a family. Like, not a real one, but a forged one. And now my best friend is on the other end of the world, and she convinced me to move to ass-fuck nowhere with a nightmarish serpentine demon bitch. What am I doing?”

“Jobs,” she chuckled.

“Yes. Jobs. Right.” He shook his head and stared out the window at the passing landscape. Of all things, he had to admit the wilds of Southern Vol’Tyr were nicer than he was used to. Sweet pine filled the air, and the sounds of chirping birds and the echoing calls of some manner of beast, the gentle cla-clack cla-clack cla-clack of the wagon down the well-packed roads.

 The capital had had its benefits, but the smell wasn’t one. Ever-present waste in the streets, sweaty people every meter, the permanent smoky sulfuric smell the wyverns in the sky gave off, not to mention the constant drone of people talking and carts rattling and armored guards stomping and horses clomping and moas screeching and—

The wagon slowed to a stop, and he snapped out of his daze. The scenery hadn’t changed, beyond growing less vertical. Trees still filled his vision.

“This can’t be it. She said we’re a half-dess’ ride. Why’d we stop?”

Osa shrugged.

“Gods. Oy!” He slid the window open, but found only an empty seat. “Shit. Fine, I’ll take a look. You, hold down the fort.”

“Yeh.”

He sighed and opened his door. Crisp humid air from the coast made it up to the road and he stared out at the scene, taking it all in. Gods, Æshorenth is gorgeous.

Mok Caliz Hats’ik was an Ironborn, or Choifundan, Milar, a race of a species not seen in the Æshorenth area much, as most Ironborn are from Chifundo, in the Aglesh region. His appearance was that of a shadow, almost as convincing as a Nojern. His skin was a charcoal black, his four eyes were all pitch black, a rare trait amongst Ironborn, and his hair was solid slick black. He dressed in leathers dyed black without a single emblem on it, not even a maker’s mark. It was beaten, but fashioned well. It mostly fit him. Hit black leather belted boots were the newest addition, looked gorgeous, and fit him perfectly. He reveled in them.

Anyone who stared long enough at him and recognized Ironborn would probably pick up an unusual gender about him. His horns were carved out of shape, turning his natural elegant curve that femme-born Choifundan had into a harder corner jutting down, emulating masc-born Choifundan style. It, regrettably, was not terribly convincing, but it wasn’t helped by the two stumps on his chin, marking sawn-off beard horns, something only femme-born Choifundan grew.

Otherwise, his voice, cadence, posture, face, and body came across as masculine to most people. Just those damned horns. Every time he looked in the mirror, he’d remind himself he needed to steal a fortune and bankroll an Aramoori mage to discover a way to naturally warp the shape of horns. One dess, he’d mutter. One dess.

Caliz breathed in the mountain air and stretched wide before remembering why he left the cabin in the first place. He turned to his right and began walking down the road towards his driver, a cloak-garbed Nojern woman, who was talking to another Nojern who seemed to be in a rush, slightly frantic.

“Oy!”

The two turned to look at him. The woman opposite the driver was a touch taller than Caliz, probably 180cm or so he guessed. Her starry flesh was covered by stoney-tan makeup over her face, with decorative accents in gold. Her long hair bore the same stoney shade, with brilliant glowing arcanic gold dye two fingers widths deep at the front, all pulled back in a long braid with black metal clasps draped over her flowing robes. Her horns twisted straight a head’s height up from her forehead. She had immaculate leather gloves and black metal chains around her neck to compliment her hair clasps, with a tattoo of a longsword with thorny vines wrapped about it on her chest, the blade plunging down into her cleavage, under her black and gold robe.

“Excuse me,” she exclaimed.

“Oy!” Caliz ignored her. “Why’re we stopped?”

“She flagged us down.”

“Please, erm, what’s your…”

“Sir,” Caliz sighed. “It’s sir.”

“Please sir,” she breathed. “I need aid.”

“What, need a ride into town? Someone strand you? I ain’t a ferry.”

“I am,” the driver muttered.

“No, no, it’s just… you look tough, rugged, like you’ve been in some scraps. I need a hand.”

Caliz held his gaze, actually able to meet her eyes thanks to the facepaint (he was used to the inscrutable silhouette of most Nojern faces), and fought to not drop his head. “I’m no merc, girlie.”

“But you are a fighter.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The sword that you drew in the cabin before getting out, and the dagger you chose instead when you put the sword back, the one that’s probably tucked in your boot. The crossbow you loaded in the cabin before walking out, leaving with your friend. The leathers you’re wearing, no tabard, no emblem, blackened, combined with the weapons just screams mercenary.

“Combine that with the fact that you’re headed to Unalon, and you’re in a wagon that nice, and that you’re Ironborn with a Ril as your companion, you’re probably GGA[9] journeymen, headed to Unalon’s chapter.”

He stared her down. Fucking uncanny hearing. How the fuck does she even know there’s a GGA presence here? It’s supposed to be underground. “Assuming you’re right, which there’s no telling, why would GGA agents outside of their chapter help you?”

“Because I have an in with the chapter here. A substantial in. If you help me, I could get you high praise and favor with the masters. See, you probably don’t recognize me. My name is Akala Claranel.”

“Claranel as in…”

“Yes,” she curtsied, “as in Claranel Caves. I’m Master Administrator of the Claranel Caves Meadery.”

“Well,” Caliz straightened up a touch, “you have my attention.”

“We have an issue at the meadery. We’ll pay, some gold, some in reputation.”

“Done,” Osa barked from behind him suddenly.

“Fucking Aatua’s fuck, woman,” Caliz jumped. “Don’t do that.”

“Meh,” she shrugged. “We do,” she nodded to Akala.

“We— Well, wait, we don’t—” He sputtered, putting a hand on Osa’s back. “Please give my companion and I a moment to talk.”

“Of course,” Akala nodded, and the two walked off.

“It’s jobs. We do jobs.”

“It’s not guild jobs, Osa. We’re here to get in with the guild.”

“She in with guild.”

“So she says, but is she? We don’t know.”

“You know place.”

“I— Yeah, I do know the place. Claranel Caves is a big damn meadery. Sold in all the big metropoleis.”

“Mea… dairy.”

“Meadery. Mead, Osa. It’s like wine, but made with honey. Fermented honey.”

“Sweet wine.”

“Kinda. But it’s not usually fruity. Their’s is really good.”

“Then they… reputation. Here and… there.” She gestured vaguely at the sea.

“Yeah. They do have a reputation.”

“So no fuck.”

“No,” Caliz chuckled, “they probably won’t fuck us over. Just… I don’t know if we have time for this.”

Osa shrugged. “Why no?”

“Why not? Because we need to get to the guild. Night is coming fast, it’s Tendess already, might be Autumn by now. I don’t want to be caught in the snow out here half a dess from town.”

“Snow?”

“You don’t— Oh, Osa. You’re in for it when winter hits. I’ll be laughing next week when you’re hugging a fire.”

She rolled her eyes. “Job?” She nodded her head at Akala.

Caliz sighed. “Yeah. Job.”

They walked over to her. “Yeah, we’ll do the job.”

“Excellent,” she sighed. “Thank you so much. Please, what’s your names, so I know who I’m working with?”

“Mok Caliz Hats’ik,” he nodded, “GGA Journeyman of Stealth. This is Osadoguhn Viaxy, GGA Journeyman of Carnage. At your service.”

[1] Vol’Tyr is the continent this story takes place on. It’s primarily Nojern with native populations of Havlin, Coyotl Shedu and Ironborn Milarics. The western region is mostly forests and jungle with a large mountain range separating them from the red-rock desert. The Great Lake takes up nearly 200,000km² of the continent with a ring of land surrounding it, 100km wide at its most narrow point. We’re in the South Central right now, which is forests, grasslands, and mountains.

[2] Killara is the biggest port to Milakria on the southern coast of Æshorenth, the country our heroes are in right now, some 250km of water from Setor Basdis across the Strait of Teledrious.

[3] Teral the largest non-floating city in Vol’Tyr, and capitol of the Veritas Khanate, the next country over. It’s built into a massive tree, and, for the sake of context, is about a two and a half week trip from the town they’re headed to, Unalon. They’re only a half-dess away from Unalon, but you don’t know that yet.

[4] The Veritas Khanate is Vol’Tyr’s largest single country and government left. It has been held for 3130 turns by ten different god khans. Teral has historically been the seat of power where at this time God Khan Karuur rules over Veritas. They’re one country east, therefor not under her rule.

[5] The westernmost city in Vol’Tyr. Primarily a Northman city, and capitol of Kul’Las. Fun fact, Kul’Las is the only land taken and made independent from the Veritas Khanate, done so by agreements and treaties with the world’s other rulers, primarily Antra (the northwestern continent).

[6] Kilio is the most prominent language of south-western & south-central Vol’Tyr, named for the Great Kiliona Empire that once covered these lands who spoke the language.

[7] Antrian is the most common World-Wide language popularized by the rise of the Cooperative Protectorate of Antra after the Fae War thousands of turns ago.

[8] See? I didn’t even need to tell you. Don’t worry background on Unalon. We’re going there. You’ll see for yourself.

[9] Guardian Guild of Ashes, a world-renowned guild of mercenaries, assassins, thieves, and guards, known for their high standards, efficient protection, and trustworthiness.