The Tears of Kas̆dael

As he finally broke free from the ruins, Jasper was not too surprised to see that he was in the middle of nowhere. The academy was set in a small hollow carved out of the mountains, and thick jungles rose up all around. Fortunately, the academy must not have been abandoned too long, as nature had not yet completely reclaimed the surroundings. A few ramshackle buildings were clustered around the academy’s entrance and, leading through them, the remnants of a paved trail wound its way down the mountain slopes, disappearing into the thick brush below.

He glanced through the buildings, finding nothing of note, before committing to the path. The trail was much longer than expected, looping back and forth across the steep incline on a circuitous route down the mountain. In places it was almost consumed by the jungle, the pavement stones obscured by creeping vines and grass, but he always managed to pick up the trail again.

It was not the hike itself that was difficult, though. The heat of the jungle was oppressive in the best of times, but the last few days had not been kind. He was pushed to the brink with hunger, and more critically, dehydration, and he made slow progress down the slopes. Finally, after three hours, he reached the end. To his relief, the path opened onto a large stone road that was clearly well maintained - he had found civilization. Unfortunately, said civilization had clearly not invented road signs yet. In both directions, the road disappeared into the jungle with no further signs of life, be they villages or even just farmhouses, visible. He was going to have to guess. With a sigh, he decided to head right.

The road stretched on before him, seemingly endless, as the hours slipped by one after another. The road was lined with nothing but an endless cavalcade of trees, the jungle swelling with the cries of birds and the relentless chatter of monkeys swinging through the upper canopy. The heat of the day beat down upon him, forcing him to stop at times, but he carried on. He knew he could not last much longer without water, so desperation fueled his footsteps. He wondered often if he had chosen the wrong direction - perhaps a thriving city had been just around the bend if he had only gone left. But he knew he didn’t have the strength to make the trip back. The only way was forward.

Jasper’s hopes were sinking fast when his labor was finally rewarded. Cresting the top of a particularly large hill, he spied his salvation. Quaint farms dotted the vista below, and in the distance he saw a towering, monumental structure that spoke of city walls. The sun already hung low over the horizon, and he knew there was no way he could reach the city before night fell. But as his gaze swept across the valley, he spotted a small cluster of homes along the road not too far from where he was. Maybe I can find a place to stay there.

His hopes renewed, he set off again down the trail, his pace spurred on by the promise of safety. As the dusky tones of twilight fell, he reached his goal. A haphazard collection of thatched-roof cottages lined the road, and a very small village square was centered around a well. He ran to the precious source, hauling the bucket up with as much speed as his failing strength would allow. The water poured over his face as he guzzled it down, not sated until most of the bucket was empty. The rest he poured over his head, the cool water providing a welcome relief from the oppressive heat that had not been fully dissipated by the coming night. His thirst quenched, he was finally able to take store of his surroundings. There were no more than a score of buildings, most of them small and run-down looking, but one two-story building rose above the rest, a colorful sign swinging from its side. For the just second time since his ordeal started, a grin broke out on Jasper’s face. A tavern.

Standing before the tavern door, he did his best to shake the dust off of his sandals and tunic and straightened his wet, shaggy hair. He knew he didn’t exactly strike the best appearance, and the last thing he wanted was to be mistaken for a bandit. Gripping his glaive in what he hoped was a non-threatening posture, he stepped through the door. A hush fell over the tavern as about twenty faces turned to look at him, but Jasper barely noticed as the intoxicating smell of food overwhelmed him. After almost three days without food, he had a new appreciation for Esau’s folly. He weaved his way through the tables, giving a nervous nod to some of the guests, as he approached the barkeep. “How much for a meal and a bed for the night, sir?”

The barkeep eyed him for a beat, then snorted. “I ain’t no sir. Fifteen coppers will get you a bowl of stew and a drink, another fifteen coppers for the bed. But if you be wanting a drink, the weapon’s gotta go behind the counter. You can get it back in the morning.”

With a nod, Jasper handed over the glaive and fished a silver out of his bag. “Make it two bowls of stew, please.” Once the weapon was safely stashed behind the counter, the tension in the room relaxed, and the pleasant hum of conversation soon filled the tavern.

Sitting down at the counter, Jasper took in the room. The bar stretched across almost the whole back wall of the room, aside from the door helpfully labeled “lodgings.” On the west wall, a cluster of tables encircled a low stone fireplace, while on the east, a small stage was currently occupied by a fiddler. Aside from a curious glance or two cast in his direction, his presence seemed to have been all but forgotten.

In short order a draft of beer and two bowls of soup were placed before him, which he scarfed down with the enthusiasm of a starving animal. When his stomach was finally satiated, the sheer exhaustion from his ordeal over the last three days slammed into him. It was all Jasper could due to keep himself from falling asleep on the counter, but with a vigorous shake of his head, and a slap to his cheek, he pushed slumber away. Before he could rest, he needed information.

Draining the last of his beer, he sidled over to the barkeep. “You got any information on the city down the road?”

The barkeep scrubbed at a stubborn stain for a moment before replying. “Yonder city’s Hargish. Nothing special, kind of small, but safe enough. There’s a barracks there too, recruiting for the war, if you’re looking for work. Or you could sign up with the guild, if you ain’t wanting to ship off across the continent to fight in the war.”

He stared pointedly at Jasper’s clothes. “Don’t reckon the guards will let you in the city looking like that, though. I about took you for a bandit. Not sure where you’re from, but around here, folks don’t wear tunics.” Jasper looked down sheepishly at his threadbare garment, while the man continued. “Tell you what, me maid Aalha has been wanting some time off to spend with her man. You help me out around here the next two days, I’ll feed you and give you some old garments that will get you past the guard. Deal?”

Jasper hesitated, then nodded his head. “Throw in another bowl of soup, and you got a deal. Just one more question, though. What region are we in?”

The barkeep cocked an eyebrow. “How the hell do you not know what region you’re in?”

Jasper shrugged self-consciously. “I got a little lost.”

A half-chuckle escaped the barkeep’s throat. “He says he’s a little lost; a little lost,” he murmured beneath his breath.“You’re in the southern-most point of Sapiyah, not too far from the borders with Stryn and the Harei Miqlat.”

Jasper was surprised to hear that. Judging from the mix of mountains and jungles, he had assumed he was much further south. Although he had never visited Sapiyah in the original game, he knew it belonged to the central canton, and was fairly close to the western border of the empire and a bit south of the great inland sea. It wasn’t a region he would have chosen to spawn in, but it was far from the frontlines of the war, which was a plus. He might want to check out the conflict at some point, but not till he was much stronger. A bowl of soup later, he staggered up the stairs and collapsed across the straw-filled bed, practically asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

The next two days were a crash course in medieval drudgery. Cleaning out the stables, rubbing down the horses, milking the cows, chopping wood, cooking, and serving food. Somehow, Jasper had the sneaking suspicion that he was doing quite a bit more than Aalha’s share of the work, but he was in no position to make waves. At the end of the second day, the barkeep lived up to his word, giving Jasper a complete set of clothes: a pair of worn boots, pants, a shirt, and even a wide-brimmed straw hat that kept the harsh jungle sun off his head and out of his eyes. Jasper took the clothes with a mixture of gratitude and disappointment. I’m really moving up in the world, from starving bandit to common peasant. Before I know it, I’ll be moving on up to the east side, to a shining tower in the sky. Shaking his head, he thanked the barkeep and made the most of his last night at the tavern, joining in on the festivities with the village folk.

He set out early the next morning before the sun had even started to ascend into the sky. The barkeep had told him that Hargish was about six miles down the road, and Jasper hoped to get there before the heat of the day had become too oppressive. It was an uneventful walk, and thanks to the paved stone roads, practically an easy stroll, but it was hard in other ways. Ever since arriving in Corsythia, Jasper had been kept busy, relentlessly running from one task to another. There was also something more important to occupy his mind, and thus he had largely avoided thinking about the reality of his situation. But in the quiet solitude of an early morning walk, he could no longer escape the demons chasing him. The thoughts of those he’d lost and a world he’d never see again pressed down hard upon him, and the occasional drops of moisture splattering on the road were not due to any rain shower.

Three hours later, he arrived before the gates. The walls of Hargish gleamed brightly under the jungle sun, covered in what looked like some sort of white plaster. The walls were rather unimpressive, reasonably thick but far too short for a serious siege, and the gate had rather minimal fortifications. Clearly, Hargish wasn’t expecting to be defending itself any time soon. A short line of people was waiting to get in the gate, and Jasper dug into his bag to find his coins. He hoped he wouldn’t have to pay for entrance, but he wasn’t sure what to expect. His turn came swiftly, and the guard glared down at him, his gaze lingering on the glaive in Jasper’s hand.

“Reason for visit?” the guard drawled.

“Looking for work.”

The guard chewed on something for a minute, before spitting on the ground. “I reckon you’re a farm boy looking for something a little more exciting, huh? If you want to find the barracks or guild, just follow this road down to the market, then turn left.” The guard stepped aside, a sneering look on his face, and Jasper stepped into the city.

The town streets were surprisingly narrow and cramped. White stone and plaster buildings rose up on either side, the domiciles only reaching about two to three stories high, but giant white sheets were draped above every street, providing shade from the hostile sun to the many pedestrians below. Many of the homes had stalls constructed in front of them, where vendors hawked cheap wares, homemade goods, or hot food for the weary laborer. The crowd flowed around him, as the hubbub of the hawker’s cries rose and fell, and the scent of spice and incense hung heavy on the sultry air.

Jasper made his way down the street, relishing the cool shade and the subtle breeze that wafted its way through the covered corridors, until he reached the market. It was surprisingly large, at least as big as a stadium, but Jasper decided to explore it later. Instead, he followed the guard’s directions and turned down a broad street to the left. The street only went a short distance before dead-ending in his destination. Two impressive buildings dominated a small plaza, each reaching three stories high - fairly tall for Hargish. The buildings were almost mirror images of each other, but unlike the white plaster buildings the rest of the town was constructed from, they were built with gigantic large blocks that testified to their strength.

As in most towns, the barracks and the adventurer’s guild stood side-by-side. Both organizations were run by the empire and offered opportunities for both citizens and non-citizens to improve their standing. The army - or barracks as it was usually called - dealt with external threats, while the guild dealt with all matter of internal concerns. The guild was a strange chimera of competing interests, encompassing private contractors, city and regional guards, espionage outfits, and the true elite of the empire: the Imperial Guard.

As Jasper crossed the small plaza, he saw that stalls were erected in front of both buildings. The hawker in the barracks’ stall, a big burly man with a shaved head and a bushy beard, got up from his stool, and waved him over. “Come over here, my lad. Join the war effort to take back the capital! Let’s drive these bastards back into the sea. Sign up for ten years of service, and earn a farm to call your own.”

Jasper shook his head and headed over to the stall for the adventurer’s guild. He definitely needed some weapons’ training - he didn’t really know how to use the glaive he was holding - and needed a mount to progress his class, but joining a war didn’t sound particularly appealing. The lady at the adventurer’s stall was reading a book. She glanced up at him for a second, and her sharp green eyes quickly ran down his body. Apparently unimpressed by what she saw, she dismissed him, turning back to her book. He hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do. Aren't recruiters supposed to recruit you? But the guild attendant continued to studiously ignore him, and he was forced into action.

“Ma’am? I’m interested in-”

“Go away, farm boy. I’m sure the army will be delighted to have you, and might even teach you how to use that weapon you’re holding.”

The man in the army stall barely held back a chuckle, “That’s right boy, come over here, and we’ll treat you right,” but Jasper persisted. “Can’t you at least give me a chance? I’m a mage -”

Her head snapped up, a spark of interest burning in her eyes. With a serious expression on her face, the attendant grabbed a quill and a piece of paper, and proceeded to barrage him with questions.

“Level?”

“Ten.”

“Any spells?”

“Uh, three.”

“Names?”

“Sacred Star, Purge, and Eternal Night.”

She wrinkled her brow. “I’m not familiar with those. Class?”

He paused for a second, thinking. There was something about a class named Acolyte of the Secret Flame that sounded, well, secret. He decided to lie and give the name that he was originally supposed to receive from the inheritance. “Flame Guardian Acolyte.”

“Ah, you’re one of them. Your sort don’t normally leave home.” Her tone didn’t sound judgmental, just matter of fact, but Jasper was dying to know who she was referring to. Them who? He didn’t see a way to ask, though, without making it clear that no, he actually wasn’t one of them.

She finished writing down his information and handed him the piece of paper and the quill. “Do you know how to write?” He nodded. “Ok, please write down your current stats in this box here, and then I can take you into the guild to be tested.”

Jasper dutifully filled out the paper, but didn’t immediately hand it back. “This isn’t some sort of binding contract, is it?”

She looked up at him, her eyes creased with faint annoyance. “This is only an application for affiliate status. If you want to join the Guard, you’ll have to prove your worth first.” He handed her the paper, and she stood up, beckoning him with a lazy wave of her hand. “Come on.”

He followed her into the guild. The moment he stepped through the doors, the harsh, muggy, heat of the day fell away, replaced by cool, crisp air. Do they have some sort of magical air conditioning? The entrance hall was surprisingly tall, opening out onto an interior courtyard that rose the entire height of the building. In the courtyard a number of people seemed to be training, waving swords and spears at dummies, or engaged in sparring with each other. The attendant ignored all that, and with a purpose stride headed directly for a nearby office. She rapped twice on the door, and without waiting for a response, strolled in, slapping the paper on the desk.

“I’ve got a new recruit for you, Gebor. Claims he’s a mage. Thought you’d want to test him.”

The man at the desk scanned the paper and nodded his head. “Very good, Isha. If he passes the test, you’ll get your bonus.” With a pleased look on her face, the attendant left the room, brushing past Jasper on her way out. With Isha gone, Jasper fidgeted in silence, while Gebor perused the paper.

At last, the man looked up. “I’m familiar with the Flame Guardian Acolyte class. Sacred Star is one of their starting spells, but these other two are not. Some sort of class variant you’re wanting to keep secret, perhaps?”

Surprised at being caught in his lie so soon, Jasper let out a nervous chuckle. “You got me.”

The man gave a knowing grin. “No problem, as long as you can actually cast these spells, you can keep your secret class. There are too few young mages these days.” He sprung to his feet and headed out the door. “Follow me.”

He headed over to an isolated part of the courtyard and pointed at a set of targets. “Cast sacred star on those.” Jasper obliged, and when the explosion had cleared, he was surprised to see the dummies unmarked.

“Not bad, not bad.” Gebor scanned the page. “Looks like you can cast that about 11 times before running out of essence. Do you have a backup weapon, or are you relying solely on your magic?”

Jasper pointed to the glaive in his hand. “Well, I got this glaive, although I don’t really know how to use it, and I guess I have a sling too.” He fumbled with his bag, dragging his handmade sling out.

“The sling’s not too common, but actually a solid backup weapon for a mage like you. With a few mage-crafted stones you’ll still be able to pack a powerful punch. The glaive, on the other hand, is not so great, but if that’s all you’ve got, we’ve got some instructors that can teach you the basics. Tell you what, I can give you affiliate status with the guild, but you’ve got to take a two-week training course. With a bit of exercise and some weapons training, we can buff up your stats a bit, and hopefully ensure that you’ll actually survive your first mission. It’ll be 10 silvers for the two weeks, and after that, you’ll be authorized to take on missions with us. Sound good?”

Ten silver was a huge chunk of his funds, but Jasper couldn’t help remembering his explosive brawl with the tiger. Next time he might not be so lucky. In the end, the decision was simple. He needed to train. He handed over the silver.

“You got a deal.”