Year 4506 5A 'Fifth Age', 106 EC 'Era of Coinage'…
Day 317 'Dusk of Fall'…
Three days after Natalak set foot in Vashkeil, a certain man was on a journey. In the frost fall of Norreveil, there at the border of Eshalune. In the mountain pass that leads to Rashival. An old wizard climbed, leaning on his staff as though it were a third leg.
He was old, a wizard in grey robes, covered in thick cloaks from the cold. The staff he carried was nothing more than an old, simple stick that acted as his support. His left hand was on his back, perhaps to comfort his aching back. A pipe was placed in his mouth, offering a spark of warmth in the cold—sipping and puffing without removing it—the old man then smiled.
At the foot of the mountain, the day was still warm, and no snowfall was coming down to the ground. The old wizard smiled upon reaching a small village.
The village was made of stones, lumber and hay; there were twenty or thirty houses within that village. Different in design and appearance, but all use the same materials. The lower parts of the house were made of hard, heavy stones, followed by lumber. However, some of the houses were made of cement-like materials, grey in colour and good at absorbing heat.
The wizard looked at their windows and saw that they were glass, probably from Rashival's product.
The people were neither hostile nor wary of his visit. They were the proud people of Eshalune, the Nordic people of Norreveil, taller than the wizard. Even the women were built differently from those of other nations, both in beauty and strength. From the looks of the wizard, a blond lady, a mother, was carrying a wooden basin full of meat twice the size of her, yet he could see how she easily transported it from one place to another.
The wizard looks for someone who he cannot disturb their work. And finally, he found someone, a skinner sharpening his knife.
The wizard removes his hat. "Good day, young man, if I may trouble you. May I ask you something?"
The skinner quickly measures the wizard. "Ahh, a traveller, how may I help you?"
"I'm looking for a caravan or a wagon that might travel to Rashival."
"Hmm, you've come at the right time, but Sigrid and Torrad will be travelling in tomorrow. And I have to tell you, there are no more people going to Rashival; they left early yesterday. If you want, I can lead you to them."
The wizard nods. "Ah, that would be of great help."
"Wait for a moment." The skinner said, fixing, hiding sharp tools. "Sorry about that, kids like to play heroes and stuff like that."
Leading the old traveller, the two encounter a woman feeding an ox. The ox was different; it had four horns uprooting from its head, it was more massive, three times the size of a simple ox from Endregar, or other nations he encountered. Its body was full of bluish paint, Nordic and full of symbols and sigils. Its fur was thick and silky to the touch.
"How may I help you, Radin?" The woman spoke.
"Ah, madam Sigrid—" Radin clears his throat.
The two then engage in a conversation, while the old man removes his hat and waits for what the woman has to offer.
"I understand, though my husband won't be coming with me. He went to the city." The woman nods.
"Ah, I understand. Is there someone who will accompany you?"
The lady shakes her head, "I think I can handle myself very well, the Veil is quite calm this time around."
"Well, there's someone who likes to travel with you. Said he's going to Rashival."
Taking a glance at the old wizard, Sigrid takes another second of thought before finally agreeing to handle the old wizard.
"Then I'll be taking my leave." Radin smiled.
"Thank you, young man." The wizard nods as Radin passes.
"No need to thank me, traveller, I'm just happy to help a passenger in need," Radin replied, then slowly returned to his business.
"I'm Sigrid, call me Sigrid. And you must be?" Sigrid extends her hand.
"Call me Azageis." The wizard clasps her hand and gives a small shake.
Funny, the lady's hand was much larger compared to the wizard's frail palm. The old wizard suddenly felt that he was outclassed in strength and age.
"That's a strange name you have. Want to come by for some stew?"
The door was open, welcoming the old wizard guest. Stepping into the house, Azageis first removes his hat before he can even set foot on the floor. The inside was filled with warmth and life. There were children on the floor; they didn't run, rant, or throw whatever things they held. There were three girls and one boy.
To the fireplace, a young man was busy cooking a stew. Swords, bows and quivers full of arrows lay plastered on top of the fireplace, preventing any children from reaching.
"Farlan, is the stew ready?" Sigrid said towards the young man.
"Not yet, sister, just give me a second," Farlan replied as he dropped a few spices from the pot. The wizard prudently looked and saw they were Rashival, or probably from the ValthamirDesert.
"You look so old." One of the children engages at Azageis.
"Now-now, children, don't give our guest a hard time," Sigrid said, whilst she prepares a bed for Azageis.
"Do you have some stories to tell? Old people were told to tell very good stories."
"I think we should have dinner first before that," Sigrid suggests. She quickly prepares the table.
Once they had filled their bellies, the children quickly gathered towards the old wizard for a story.
"Well, there was once an old man who exchanged with the god of wisdom—" Azageis implores.
The night was late, and children lay asleep, fully satisfied by the stories of the old wizard. Lying on a comfy bed made of furs and thick blankets, Sigrid came with another blanket.
"That will be enough, my lady," Azageis said.
"The night is frigid; it's best to stay warm." Sigrid insists.
"Thank you, then, my lady."
The morning arrived, and soon the wagons were ready to depart. Azageis peers at what the wagons hold, and it is full of furs, bizarre glowing green stones, and strange red meat that feels like rubber. There were many to tell, and the wagon was heavy from the looks.
"Don't forget those spices, mother." The children shout, waiving their hands to their mother.
"I will, just don't do anything stupid!"
On the trails of the mountain pass, the higher they climb, the more snow begins to fill the roadside. The wind didn't breeze, it howled with icy cold, turning cheeks and faces into blistering. But for the lady, the wind and the cold were nothing more than a crisp to her.
At the top of the mountain road, far above the village, the two can see a glimpse of the village buildings. As the wagon finally reached a flat road, Sigrid couldn't help but feel a dread of the atmosphere. Sure enough, an avalanche erupted, raging down on the wagon. It was a massive snowslide that caused a tremor, rumbling as it descended the slopes.
Sigrid tries to make the ox move faster, but it's too slow, and the cart is too heavy to make a run. She closed her eyes and hoped she might survive. Ten seconds pass, and she slowly opens her eyes to see that the avalanche was frozen.
"Allow us to pass, old friend." Azageis calmly said.
To Sigrid, she was in disbelief or rather believed she was already in the afterlife. Curious, Sigrid touched the frozen avalanche as if it were being held by time itself. Though quickly, Sigrid regains her conciseness and slowly lets the ox move forward. Once they are in a safe zone, thirty meters or so, the avalanche then resumes its descent.
"The village!" Sigrid exclaimed, inclining to her seat, as she watched the avalanche going down to her village, her family.
But slowly, the avalanche seems to ease its momentum until it fades before even reaching the village.
"Thank you, old friend," Azageis spoke.
The two continued, and Sigrid couldn't help but feel a strange phenomenon at the old wizard. She felt that she was both in a place of dread and sheltered with Azageis. After that incident, there was silent and soon after one night of rest, they were able to see one of the teleportation strongholds.
While on the road, Sigrid was lost in thought, calculating. "Should I hire adventurers?" She ponders, while constantly computing the cost.
"Would you mind if I go have some sleep at the back?" Azageis implores.
"Ahh, that won't be a problem," Sigrid answered as she carefully gave him a thick fur and blankets. "You should wear these."
Giving her papers to the guards before they entered the stronghold, she saw that it was large, probably the same area as her village; its walls were lined with hardened-stone towers. She wandered her eyes and saw adventurers coming out and going in through the inn. And there she evaluates.
"Should I stay in here for the night?" Her index fingers were placed on her lips. "No, if I wait any longer, the prices would go down." She continues, as she looks at the papers. And on the papers was a list of commodities and their past prices. "Should I go through the teleportation?"
Looking through the centre of the stronghold, Sigrid asks one of the officers—
"How much is the teleportation cost?" Sigrid said, placing a sheet listing her possessions on the counter.
The officer carefully inspected her papers and said—
"Fifteen silver Shar." The old woman answered.
"Fifteen! Last year was thirteen." Sigrid exclaimed.
"That was last year." Replied the old woman, who seemed apathetic to Sigrid's plea.
Leaving the counter, Sigrid was again debating her thoughts, whether to go through the teleportation or hire an adventurer. She sighs and quickly returns to the counter.
"One teleportation," Sigrid said, placing her papers and the fifteen silver Shar.
Guiding the wagon to a certain place, full of humming magics and full of mages. Surrounded by stones, a single gesture to the Helmsman sent the wagon and Sigrid to another stronghold.
Showing papers and nodding at the guards, Sigrid was then allowed to exit the teleportation area. Once the wagon exited the place, she was now at the border of Rashival.
It took another four hours until they were able to see one of the cities of Rashival at the dawn of dusk.
Enter the city of Da' Marrah, the walls were great, standing around fifteen meters high. It has a thickness of three meters, filled with guards in crimson robes, layered with lamellar plates that scale their chests down to their abdomens. Their eyes stood like hawks watching the outside city. Their heads were wrapped in scarlet, the turban on their head wound tight against sun and wind, a crown of cloth rather than gold. Curved swords buckled on their waist, bows to their backs, and a spear held as a shield.
"Halt!" Commands the guards. "Ah, it's you." The guard continues upon seeing Sigrid.
"Yes, it's me." Sigrid implores, bringing her papers.
The guard glanced at her goods and smiled, "You're on a lucky day, Lady Sigrid, Shar must be in your hand."
Sigrid chuckles, "I think so too."
"You may go." The guard nods and signals Sigrid to continue.
Upon arriving inside the city, you can smell the aroma of many spices. The smell of different fabrics; there was dust, but not enough to thicken the air. The houses were made of clay and limestone. Artisans of many skills lie waste at every corner.
"We're here." Sigrid slightly shakes the old wizard who was sleeping right beside her.
"You sure you have some places to stay for the night? There's someone I know who offers us a welcome bed for the night." Sigrid asks.
"Ah, you take me to the temple of Shar, the closest one if you would."
"Alright."
Dropping the old wizard in front of the temple, Sigrid waves a farewell and asks that Azageis is always welcome to her village, to her house. Azageis nods, and he slowly knocks on the temple's door.
When night arrived, Sigrid was resting at her friend's house. The house was different; the floor was covered in thick carpets, and dangling lamp flames were placed on every wall. Incense fills the air, giving a very calming aroma. At the table, Sigrid sat with a woman her age, and the two were drinking from a bottle of ale.
"So, there's this guy that I met, he was old, very old, I can tell. And he calls himself Azageis—"
The woman quickly spits her drink, "A-Azageis!"
"Calm down, Eshreen… yes, his name is Azageis. Well, when we were crossing the mountain pass, there was an avalanche…" She pauses, sipping to wet her throat.
"It tries to bury us, but somehow the avalanche was halted. It's like it was frozen in time, enabling us to pass safely. Most interesting of all was the aftermath— the avalanche simply fades—"
"Y-you do not know what you just met?!" Eshreen goes closer to her. "I'm quite jealous of you to meet such a person."
Persistent and curious, Sigrid capitulates and entertains her friend. It is that moment when she finally learned who and what Azageis is.
"Now that you've mentioned it, the guards somehow didn't notice his presence. And while we were camping, I somehow felt peculiar around him."
"You see, that avalanche scene and that undetected presence. That man is a walking paradox, they said. Eshreen replied after sipping another ale.
"You mages are the ones I'm more intrigued by. But I think you had your fill with booze, come you should go to bed now, I will help you." Sigrid said, fixing the table.
"I'm more jealous of you, Sigrid. You people can handle a barrel of booze," Eshreen replied, too drunk from just three bottles of ale.
"I hear you, now off you go to bed."
Sunrise arrives, and Sigrid, accompanied by Eshreen, enters, where merchants take their sales revenue. Given the receipt of her cargoes, Sigrid's eyes widen.
"231 silver and 29 coppers!" Enthusiastically, Sigrid quickly brought out her books and begins computing for her profit.
"So how much do you profit, lady merchant?" Eshreen teased.
"Thirty-seven silver and fifty-seven coppers. Finally, I can pay off my remaining debt." Sigrid answered, her voice cracking.
"Whoa, you're one lucky girl," Eshreen said.
Suddenly, their enthusiasm was disrupted by two warriors. And they were the royal guards of the Emir of Da' Marrah.
"Good day, my lady, apologies for interrupting you, but are you perhaps Miss Sigrid of Skyfern?" The royal guard interrupts.
"Are there some problems, gentlemen? If there's something about taxes that I forgot to pay, I can settle this right now." Sigrid said, anxious towards the guards.
"That won't be necessary, the Emir has sent you a gift of gratitude. Though it would be good to settle this in a different place, and the Emir insists on your presence."
"If you're going to take her, you'll need to take me also." Eshreen voiced, like a lion defending its territory.
"That won't be a problem, you're welcome to join your friend." The guard calmly answered.
Leading the two into a palace-like structure, full of blooming flowers and different plants. The inside was cool, the touch, and in the centre was the Emir, sitting on the floor, layered with thick carpets. From the looks of it, he was busy scribing parchments and documents.
"Ahh, so you've arrived, please have a seat." The Emir gestures. "And please make yourselves at home."
"My lord, is there something that I did?" Sigrid tries to mask her trembling voice.
"That won't be a problem, in fact, I like to give my gratitude for helping my friend Lord Azageis. He may not have told me the price, but I hope you might accept my assistance." The Emir replied.
"What?"
"Forgive me for looking at your records, my lady Sigrid, and it seems you're one very honest merchant, too honest I say… especially someone coming from Norreveil. And for that I give you this." The Emir then asked one of the servants to give Sigrid a small box.
Sigrid opened it and saw a crest.
"That will help you avoid those merchants and tax collectors from taking advantage of you. I may not fully return what they stole from you, but I can repay you with these." Again, the Emir commands the servants to give her another box.
"It may not be much, but I would be happy if you accept my gifts." The Emir continues.
And when Sigrid opens it, she nearly loses her composure.
"Eh, T-ten gold Shar! Ten multiplied by a hundred silver Shar, that's 1000 silver Shar! EEEEHHH!... IS THIS A DREAM!"
"Am I suitable to have these?" Sigrid implores.
"Yes." The Emir smiled with a nod. "I look forward to having a good trade with you. Even if our past friend may have bitter things, and it warms my heart that even from a different birth, there's still warmth to be seen." The Emir glances at Eshreen.