Tarthocas : Chronicles of the Transmigrating Scribe

"My adventure begins today!" Jigme Pema thought as he set foot inside the Markseeker’s Building. The grand entrance hall was a sight to behold, with its towering columns carved from dark stone, each etched with intricate runes that seemed to pulse with latent energy. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and incense, a combination that spoke of ancient knowledge and rituals.

Jigme’s eyes darted around, taking in the bustling scene before him. Markseekers of all ranks moved through the hall, their robes and armour indicating their various statuses and specialties. Apprentices with eager faces hurried past, clutching scrolls and weapons, while seasoned veterans stood in small groups, discussing their latest assignments in hushed, serious tones.

At the center of the hall, a massive board displayed current bounties and missions, each notice marked with a seal denoting its difficulty. Jigme couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation as he approached it, wondering which challenge would become his first real test as a Markseeker.

He was drawn to the reception desk, where a stern-looking receptionist was meticulously sorting through a stack of papers.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jigme stepped forward, his voice steady but tinged with excitement. “I’m here to join the Markseekers,” he declared, handing over the letter of recommendation he had received from his mentor.

The receptionist glanced up, her eyes scanning him briefly before taking the letter. She opened it, her expression remaining impassive as she read. After what felt like an eternity, she nodded and gestured for Jigme to wait.

As he stood there, Jigme couldn’t help but reflect on the journey that had led him to this moment. The rigorous training, the countless hours spent honing his skills, and the unwavering support of his mentor had all culminated in this pivotal point. Today, he was no longer just a hopeful apprentice; he was on the brink of becoming a full-fledged Markseeker.

Lost in his thoughts, Jigme didn’t notice the approach of a tall, hooded figure until the man was standing right beside him. The stranger’s presence was commanding, and Jigme felt a shiver of both awe and apprehension.

“Welcome to the Markseekers,” the man said, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper. “I’m Lobsang Drakpa. You’ve chosen a challenging path, but with determination and skill, you may just survive it.”

Jigme nodded, his resolve hardening. He was ready for whatever lay ahead. His adventure, he knew, was just beginning.

At that moment, another individual entered the building, his footsteps echoing off the stone floor. He moved with a confident stride, his eyes scanning the bustling hall before settling on the receptionist.

Approaching the desk, he handed over a bulging sack. The receptionist, recognizing him, smiled warmly and quickly inspected the contents. With a nod, she handed him a piece of paper, a token of approval.

The man took it and headed towards a shadowy corner of the hall, where he exchanged the paper for another, larger sack. He then made his way back to the centre of the room, his presence drawing curious glances from the surrounding Markseekers.

“Alright, boys! Today’s feast is on me! Eat all you want!” Ling Xuan’s voice rang out, clear and jubilant.

The reaction was instantaneous. The entire guild burst into cries of happiness and excitement. For many of the Markseekers, life was a constant struggle against poverty. Opportunities for such generosity were rare, and the promise of a free feast was a luxury they could hardly afford to mis

Furthermore, the Guild of the Markseekers also doubled as a tavern of sorts, so it was not even that hard to arrange tables. Soon, all tables were set as every enthusiastic Markseeker sat on the benches and began chomping down on the delicious food. It was even tastier to them as it was free!

Even though it was the middle of the day, they celebrated as if it was their last. The hall filled with the sounds of clinking mugs, hearty laughter, and the lively banter of comrades who had seen countless battles together. Plates were quickly emptied and refilled as the Markseekers savour each bite, relishing the rare opportunity to eat their fill without worrying about the cost.

Lobsang Drakpa, usually reserved and somewhat enigmatic, joined in the feast with unexpected gusto. His gravelly laughter could be heard above the din as he recounted old tales of daring escapades and near-misses, his eyes sparkling with the light of shared memories. This unexpected sight made Jigme feel somewhat left out, standing at the periphery of the joyous gathering.

However, that feeling didn’t last long as Ling Xuan called out to the boy. “Come! You there! Yes, you! Celebrate!” Ling Xuan easily pulled Jigme in and handed him a plate piled high with food.

“Thank you,” Jigme mumbled, his eyes wide with gratitude as he took in the array of dishes before him. His plate was heaped with succulent roasted chicken, its skin crispy and golden brown, glistening with a sheen of herbs and spices. Beside it, a generous helping of mashed potatoes sat, creamy and rich, dotted with pats of melting butter and sprinkled with fresh chives.

The plate also held a pile of steamed vegetables—bright orange carrots, green beans, and peas, all perfectly cooked to retain their crispness and vibrant colors. A chunk of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven, accompanied the meal, its crusty exterior giving way to a soft, airy interior that smelled heavenly.

Jigme finished the plate in no time, savoring every bite. Ever since his uncle died a few months ago, his entire diet had consisted of smoked chicken and stale bread. This feast was a stark contrast, a burst of flavors and textures that he had almost forgotten could exist.

As he devoured the feast, memories of his uncle flooded his mind. It was still a mystery how his uncle had died. Some said he had incurred the wrath of a high-ranking individual who sent The Markseekers to dispatch him. Others whispered that he had stolen something or knew or saw something incredibly volatile that required complete and absolute secrecy, leading to his execution by the Markseekers. Yet, in all versions of the story, one constant remained—the Markseekers.

This had inevitably instilled in Jigme a burning desire to become a Markseeker himself. He needed to uncover the truth and avenge his uncle, who had been his guardian since his parents disappeared mysteriously when he was a child.

“I’ll avenge you, Uncle!” Jigme thought as he furiously continued eating, tearing into the chicken with a hunger born of deprivation and determination. The rich, savory juices ran down his chin, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, too engrossed in the meal to care about manners.

He reached for a goblet of ale, the cold, frothy drink washing down the hearty food and leaving a pleasant, warming sensation in his chest. The ale was dark and robust, with a hint of honey that balanced its bitterness perfectly.

As the Markseekers completely satiated their hunger, Ling Xuan stood up, his expression turning serious. The chatter in the hall died down as everyone sensed the shift in his demeanour.

“Fellow Markseekers, I have some terrible news to give you,” Ling Xuan sighed emotionally, his eyes sweeping over the gathered crowd.