Transcendence, page 27
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
“We’ve made it,” Mica pointed out as we finally reached the main road. The dirt trail was wide enough to accommodate two carriages with ample space in between, and though there were wheel tracks from use, there seemed to be no carriages in sight.
“Where to now, boy?” Olfred’s deepened voice rang.
“We follow the road to the nearest town,” I answered.
“More walking?” Mica groaned in protest.
“The closest town isn’t too far off,” I comforted her.
Mica and I kept our heads low as we followed behind Olfred on the side of the trail. After a while, I heard the faint clack of hooves and wooden wheels.
The other Lances perked up less than a second later, picking up on the sound as well. The three of us stopped and waited for the carriage to appear in our line of sight. Pulled by two brown horses, one speckled near its muzzle, the wooden carriage was driven by an older gentleman in green and brown traveling garb. A young man, seeming not much older than me, rode next to him.
As they got closer, it was apparent how malnourished the horses were. Their ribcages were clearly pronounced, while their coats and manes had lost all their luster.
Olfred waved his arms at the approaching carriage. “Hello there!”
With a swift pull of the reins, the driver brought the horses and carriage to a dusty halt.
“You lost?” the older man barked, his eyes scanning Olfred’s garb, while the younger one eyed Mica and me suspiciously.
“My slaves and I were on our way north when our carriage was attacked by bandits,” Olfred explained, his voice steady while he dramatically told the tale of woe. “They slit my horses’ throats and tried to rob us. Luckily my slaves were able to fight off the bandits.”
“These two munchkins?’ The older man’s eyes narrowed.
Olfred shook his head. “No, no. Different slaves, but unfortunately they didn’t last long after the fight. Infection of the wounds.”
“Mmm. And the mask?” the driver asked with a raised brow. He and the younger man both gripped the hilts of the daggers sheathed at their waists. By their awkwardly placed hands, it seemed that their weapons were mostly for intimidation.
“My father insisted I hide my identity in these dangerous times,” Olfred answered with a weak laugh. He held up his hands in submission, having noticed the weapons as well.
“Dangerous times indeed, as you’ve already experienced.” The older man loosened his grip on the weapon. “Fighting slaves are hard to come by and even harder to afford since the war started. Pity for your loss.”
“A great loss,” Olfred agreed.
“Well, times are hard for all of us. I’m not sure my horses can handle the weight of more people.” The old man ran his fingers through his scraggly beard and coughed.
“Naturally, you’ll be compensated,” Olfred replied calmly. He dug into his fur cloak and pulled out two silver coins.
The younger man reached out and grabbed the silver coins, turning them slowly in the light as he examined their quality before nodding to the driver.
“Hop on then,” the older man said, motioning to Olfred. “But your slaves will have to walk.”
“Of course,” Olfred said without hesitation.
I caught a glimpse of Mica’s devastated expression before she lowered her head again. Without saying a word, I pulled her back and waited for the carriage to resume moving, then followed after it with her.
“Mica is going to kill that old man,” Mica muttered, her face hidden beneath her hood.
“Just bear it for a little longer. The next town is only an hour away.”
“You’re familiar with this rural countryside?” Mica asked.
“Of course,” I said softly. “It’s where my hometown is, after all.”
Chapter 33
Inside the Tavern
The flickering fires of street lights glowed in the nearby distance, a sight for sore eyes after hours of nonstop walking. This was the first time I had come back to Ashber, the small town where I was born, in more than ten years.
“Mica is ready for a nice cold mug of ale,” the general whispered, licking her dry, cracked lips.
I nodded wordlessly, keeping my pace brisk to match the speed of the carriage we were behind.
“Just out of curiosity, sir, how many slaves do you own?” the younger man asked eagerly, his narrow eyes shifting between Olfred and me.
“I never counted,” Olfred answered with a shrug. “We have many at home, some owned by myself and others by my family.”
“Wow.” The younger man sighed. “If you have so many, how about you leave those two with us—ouch!”
The older man had leaned back in his seat and smacked the boy upside the head. “Are you hollow in the head? Who in their right mind would just give away their slaves?”
The boy rubbed his head and neatened his dirty blond hair. “I was just asking, old man. Sheesh!”
“Sorry about my boy. I’ve had to raise him on my own after his mother ran off, and manners weren’t always a priority on my list of things to teach him.”
“No offense taken,” Olfred said, obviously enjoying playing his role as master. “In other circumstances, I might have considered leaving them with you once I’d reached my destination, but these two offer at least a bit of security in these chaotic times.”
The boy clicked his tongue. “Unlucky.”
Something about the two men wasn’t sitting right with me. Aside from the fact that there were no other carriages on the road, even this close to town, there was no luggage on their carriage either. Their only weapons seemed to be the knives buckled to their waists, which provided barely any protection.
They had seemed reasonably suspicious upon first contact, but they’d opened up too easily, as if waiting for a reason to trust us. My guard had been up, but we were almost in Ashber and nothing seemed amiss.
“Well, here we are,” the bearded driver announced, pulling on the reins to halt the carriage. “We’re passing through this town so it’d be best if you walk from here.”
“You’ll be traveling through the night?” Olfred asked, skepticism lacing his voice.
“We’re in a hurry to reach a small outpost about an hour away,” the blond-haired boy answered with a laugh, releasing the latch in the back to let Olfred out.
“Well, regardless, thank you for the ride.” Olfred handed the boy another silver coin before hopping off the carriage.
The driver gave Olfred a wave before snapping the reins. With an annoyed grunt, the two horses started trotting, pulling the carriage onto a narrower dirt road that veered off to the left.
“They need to work on their acting skills,” Olfred said, shaking his head as we began walking.
“So it wasn’t just me,” I replied.
“Whatever. As long as there’s alcohol and a cozy bed, Mica will be happy.”
As we headed into town, I was unnerved to notice how empty the streets were. One thing I remembered about Ashber was how lively it had been for such a small town. Adventurers were scarce this far north, but the small river flowing near the town made the area a great place to raise crops. After the death of Lensa, my father had brought my mother to this remote town and taken a job here, guarding farmers and their crops against the frequent wolves and stray mana beasts that came from the Grand Mountains. With farmers waking up early to tend to their crops, and afternoons spent either selling on the market streets or frequenting merchants, nighttime was when everyone found the time to unwind and have fun.
My father would oftentimes come home tripping over his own feet after drinking at night with the local farmers. I had expected some changes as a result of the war, but I’d never expected Ashber to be a ghost town.
The few street lamps scattered around were burning brightly, but there were no signs of people going about their daily business. I sensed someone in the alleyway, his features hidden by shadows, but after a moment, the person scurried off, his unrhythmic footsteps growing fainter until we heard no sounds other than our own breathing.
We glanced at one another, but remained quiet. Looking around, I saw that most of the buildings were either vacant or barred. Wooden planks were nailed over windows, while chains held together the front entrance of a store.
I activated Realmheart to sense for mana fluctuations, not expecting much, but immediately I could see the distortions in the atmospheric mana all over the town. There had been mages here recently.
“I sense people scattered around, but there seems to be a congregation of forty or so just a few blocks away,” Olfred grunted.
“Mica sensed forty-three,” the little Lance muttered beside me.
“I thought we agreed not to use magic,” I said irritably. “What if there are Alacryan mages or Vritra nearby who pick up on it?”
“Mana wasn’t needed to sense them,” Olfred replied cryptically.
What? I almost said aloud. If they were able to sense people this accurately, my whole plan could be compromised.
“That’s good,” I lied. “Looks like we’ll be able to find the Alacryans’ hideout sooner than I’d expected.”
“It’ll probably still take some time. Mica can only sense people within a short distance, and even then it’s sort of fuzzy. Same goes for Olfred,” Mica explained.
“You’re both talking too much for slaves,” Olfred snapped, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Just because we can’t use magic does not mean our enemies are bound by the same handicap. Assume our voices will always be heard.”
I knew no one was nearby—at least no one who was manipulating mana—and so should Olfred. I suspected he just wanted Mica to stop talking about their limitations, but the elderly dwarf did have a point. I nodded, following a few steps behind Olfred with Mica quietly simmering in frustration beside me.
When we turned a corner, after passing a particularly tall, worn-down building, I knew exactly where the “congregation” Olfred and Mica had mentioned was.
Clouds of smoke puffed from the chimney of what seemed like a tavern. The large shack had a crooked roof with missing tiles, but of all the other tattered edifices and hovels nearby, it was the only place with light coming from inside.
We approached with little hesitation, driven by the thought of a nice, well-seasoned meal and a plush bed.
‘I smell meat being grilled,’ Sylvie said as we got closer, rustling impatiently inside my cloak.
Olfred paused at the doorway, and the three of us exchanged glances before he opened the splintered wooden door. I hungrily breathed in the pungent smell of alcohol, smoke, and a variety of indiscernible foods and spices. The clamor of a dozen conversations, all trying to overwhelm one another, resounded throughout the large tavern accompanied by the sounds of glasses clinking and palms pounding.
The people—mostly men—who were seated at the tables closest to the door all turned to face us. Some had flushed cheeks, others showed irritated scowls.
“Do we wait to be seated?” Olfred asked.
“You’re responsible for finding your own seat in establishments like this,” I said, pulling my hood down to cover more of my face.
I grabbed Mica’s wrist and followed Olfred as he weaved through the customers and tables. It was impossible not to notice the glares as we passed by. A burly man with long, tangled hair purposely leaned back, hoping to bump into one of us as an excuse to start a commotion.
“Never mind. It’s only forty-two,” Mica said. She pointed to a fanged hound standing next to its barrel-chested owner, drool leaking out of its flat muzzle.
I raised a brow. “What?”
“Forty-two people, not forty-three like Mica said earlier. Mica mistook that mana beast for two people,” she explained.
“Ah, got it,” I replied.
Winding through the maze of people, I listened for any bits of conversation that might alleviate my suspicions about this place. I was able to pick up part of one table’s dialogue amidst the clamor: “...were able to reel in some fish tonight.”
While the toned man, who had several missing teeth, could have simply been talking about catching trout for dinner, the suspicious glances of the people at his table told me that their conversation wasn’t so innocent.
Finally, we seated ourselves around a wobbly table in the far corner of the tavern, next to the bathroom. A vile stench—caused by the absence of proper plumbing—assaulted my nose, and every trace of the appetite I had built up vanished.
“What’ll it be for you tonight?” the barmaid asked, nonchalantly tugging on her dirty gown to further expose her breasts. She leaned down on the table next to Olfred, blatantly inviting him to feast his eyes on her cleavage, while she herself scanned his fine cloak. Mica and I apparently didn’t exist to her. She swayed coquettishly next to Olfred, waiting for him to order.
“Three mugs of cold ale and whatever stew you have tonight, along with some bread,” Olfred said, unfazed by her attempts at wooing him.
“Right away,” she cooed as she lightly ran a finger up his arm. Whether she was making another attempt at seducing him or gauging the quality of his cloak, I didn’t know, but I could tell she wasn’t the only one who had noticed Olfred’s potential worth.
“Ugh. What’s the point of showing off those lumps of fat anyway?” Mica mumbled, disgusted.
“For once, we agree on something,” Olfred said with a nod. “A woman should have a firm and muscular build, and the coarse skin to match.”
I opted to stay out of the conversation, instead scanning the room from under the cover my hood. With Realmheart activated once more, I could tell that magic had been used, and not that long ago.
A distorted aura of mana surrounded a particularly large table along the opposite wall. A robed, middle-aged man seemed out of place amongst the others. Unlike his companions, he was neatly groomed, and his beady eyes flickered lewdly at the scantily-dressed barmaids on either side of him, who were taking turns feeding him fruits and ale. With his thin arms, hollow cheeks, and receding hairline, I doubted the servers were cozying up to him because of his dashing good looks.
Considering how loudly and haughtily he spoke, and the way his peers laughed and nodded at whatever came out of his mouth, there was no doubt the beady-eyed man was important—perhaps even in control. By the way the particles gathered around him, it seemed he had conjured a layer of mana to strengthen and protect himself.
And he wasn’t the only one. With just a cursory glance, I spotted a few augmenters who were expelling a thin layer of mana over their skin for protection. However, the density and purity of the mana encompassing their bodies was at a level far lower than the Alacryan soldiers I had faced near the southwestern coast. If I had to guess, these were either mercenaries or lower-tier adventurers. The thin man, his arms currently around two scantily clad barmaids, was at a far higher level than the others, however.
But that wasn’t what bothered me. It wasn’t the subtle air of hostility in the tavern or the suspicious number of mages present, either. I knew that man. Something about his beady, perverted gaze and his crooked face brought up bitter emotions, but I couldn’t place my finger on why.
‘What’s going on?’ Sylvie asked, noticing my concern.
Sylvie, take a quick peek at the table to my left on the other side of the tavern. Do you recognize anyone?
My bond rustled inside my cloak, then her small muzzle popped out. Her intelligent eyes scanned the room, focusing on the area I had indicated. Then a blatant sense of distaste leaked out of her. ‘He’s that scoundrel who tried to use the king to forcibly take possession of me during the Helstea auction event. I believe his name was something like—’
As she spoke, the man got up and hobbled toward the bar, putting minimal weight on his left leg and using a wooden staff to keep his balance. As soon as I realized his injury, his name immediately flooded into my mind—along with the rest of my memories of him.
It’s Sebastian.
Chapter 34
Inside the Tavern II
“What’s wrong?” Mica whispered, leaning in close and tilting her head down so only the bottom half of her face was visible. “Do you recognize someone?”
Shaking my head, I turned back to my table. “No one important.”
A different barmaid—this one much less affectionate—arrived with our order. She placed the three mugs of ale in front of Olfred, along with a single bowl of soup. A piece of bread was sloppily submerged inside the goopy liquid.
“Please bring two more bowls,” Olfred said as he slid two mugs across the table for me and Mica.
“There’s a stall a block down to feed your slaves,” she said with obvious distaste.
Ignoring her attitude, Olfred simply stirred the orange stew with the piece of bread. “It’s been a long journey. I’ll have them eat here tonight.”
I didn’t pay attention to her reaction, but she left wordlessly. My mind was focused on the cold mug of ale bubbling in front of me. I pressed the cool rim of the mug to my dry lips, relishing the slight burn down my esophagus as the carbonated liquid reached my stomach.
Damn, that feels good.
Mica finished almost her entire mug in one gulp. She shivered as she let out a blissful sigh. “Even this cheap ale tastes heavenly to Mica right now.”
I lifted my mug for another swig. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I spotted the same barmaid whispering to one of the men sitting at Sebastian’s table. She was pointing a finger toward us.
“Looks like we’ll be having guests,” I muttered to the other Lances as I set down my drink. Sylvie rustled deeper into my cloak, and I pulled the hood a bit further over my face, just in case.
Just a few moments later, a large man with a scraggly beard came to our table. With him was a short, portly woman wearing a condescending expression and clothing just as revealing as, if not more than, the barmaids.
The bearded man regarded me and Mica with a raised brow and an expectant gaze. I got up without a word, pulling Mica from her seat as well, and moved to stand behind Olfred while the newcomers took our chairs.
