Chapter 7

Scholarly Travels

Eighteenth of Spring's Dawn, 12529 D.E.

The Silver Wilds of Anciart

Kikava Road

"Shit!"

An arrow flew past Urie's head, implanting itself into a nearby tree as Urie rode away from the Pillagers.

He knew the Silver Wilds were a mess of Illager Manor Lords, the type of Illager who do not administer anything more than their Manors, a few other lords who might be under them, and the outposts that make up their "territories." So finding oneself under attack from an Illager patrol was not unexpected, but that's not the whole issue.

The problem is, that this is the fifth one I've encountered since I got here! He thought, taking a turn in the road heading northwest. He had only seen two villages since he arrived; everything else sought to eat or kill him, since he wasn't worth getting a toll out of. Only in the villages does he find refuge.

And, occasionally, the swamps.

Another arrow flicked by his head, missing him by a hair's edge and hitting the road ahead of him. The sun was drawing closer to setting, and he was unsure of any sort of village nearby-

Wait, is that a light?

He blinked, and sure enough, a village laid just ahead of him.

There shouldn't be any villages near here, Urie thought, but shook his head as he heard the footfalls of the patrol. It didn't matter. If he could make it, he would be safe. Or lead a patrol straight into an unsuspecting village.

At that thought, he decided to alert the village ahead of him. Better to risk the village's ire for bringing a Pillager patrol to their doorstep than to do so without telling them.

"HELP! ILLAGERS!" Urie shouted out towards the village, pushing Boor as far as he could go for a mule. If he could just get a little bit closer, he would likely be in the clear-

Crrack!

Urie was thrown off Boor as the old mule fell, whimpering as it collapsed, and he hit the dirt hard. The thunder of the Pillager's boots drew closer as Urie struggled to get up from his crash.

Of all the times, of course now is when the old mule gives out! Urie mentally cursed, straining to push himself off the ground. Something must've broken in his leg, as each feeble attempt to get up caused immense agony in his leg.

As the heavy footsteps started to close in from not only behind him, but also in front of him, he couldn't help but feel it was over. The whimpering of Boor was the only sound that wasn't out to kill him. The Pillager in front of him began to draw close enough, presumably to kill him. Not that he could see that, with his gaze stuck to the ground.

"...I-I'm sorry, father. I c-couldn't do what you asked me to…" Urie ground out through his tears. The iron foot of the Pillager stepped into his limited, blurry vision-

Wait a minute. That's not a Pillager.

A loud groan of steel snapped Urie out of his thoughts, and the sound of a heavy iron fist crushing a Pillager's crossbow told him exactly what had just happened. The village's golem answered his cry for help.

He was safe.

Despite the pain, he managed to roll himself over in time to see the first Illager get thrown in a mess of broken bones and skin into a nearby tree. The other four began to back away, one launching an arrow at the golem, only for it to bounce off. Such is usually the case when an Illager patrol gets too cocky.

The offending Illager's face was smashed into a twisted distortion of what it was seconds before by the Golem's fist, their body collapsing to the ground from the force. The rest shouted in panic, some drawing blades and axes, while one began to back away.

In the chaos, Urie managed to sit up, looking over his wounds. While nothing was bleeding, his left leg was definitely bent in a place it shouldn't bend at, and his right one didn't feel any better.

Footfalls behind him tore his vision off of his busted legs, as the local villagers felt safe enough to come close to him now that the Golem was mopping up the Pillagers. They wore the typical robes seen across most villages and cities, greens and browns for the most part.

"Can you stand, Traveler?" The first man who came close said, before glancing at his legs and visibly wincing. "Don't answer that. We'll carry you."

"Thank you, but what about my mule? Is Boor alright?" Urie said, as one of the villagers moved over to the whimpering animal.

"He's hurt, but he will heal." The man, presumably the local shepherd based on his outfit, said while kneeling close to the old mule. "Got plenty of centuries in him, and this stubborn fool looks like he'll be fit to go for a century more."

Urie breathed a sigh of relief, only to immediately suck it back in as two of the villagers lifted him off the ground, holding him up on their shoulders. One of them, the first to speak to him, spoke to him again after he settled into a comfortable "standing" position.

"What's your name, Traveler? Not many travel alone in Lord Azum's territory, and you've clearly been traveling for some time." The rest of the villagers looked at him, expecting answers, and now a lot more relaxed as the sound of the fifth and final Pillager dying a brutal death to the Golem reached their ears.

"Urie. Of the Nozymas family, from the lands of Mirvain. Long ways from here, past the desert. Not from Ondaberia." He explained, as the group began to carry him and the wounded Boor back to the village, any lost items in tow as well. It was still a painful experience, but it was better than letting him crawl.

"Not from Ondaberia? What brings you to the Silver Wilds, of all places?" The second person helping him, a young woman he only vaguely registered amidst the pain, asked him. Her voice was rather calming, somehow. If Urie remembered correctly, some people can channel Magicka passively, often through vocal or somatic methods.

"My family is… gone. A terrible Illager King, from the north of Mirvain, invaded our lands. I was told to flee by my father, and before I could turn back to help…" Urie trailed off, staring into the ground as they walked. None of the villagers spoke for a while, not daring to cause any more pain than he was already in.

"...You are welcome to stay here while you heal, and if you choose to stay we will not stop you, so long as you contribute. Of course, you may always leave. Living under Lord Azum's not the best, we can admit, but it's better than letting the monsters roam totally free." The man said, breaking the awkward silence. "At the very least, none of the Lords ask us to break our Peace and fight for them, and don't raid us if we pay tribute."

"You are very kind, sir. I must've just had a bad bit of luck with this group. Normally they just toll me near bridges." Urie said, looking around at the village he was now in. "These were just bandits with the local lord's approval."

The village was like many he'd seen even at home, perhaps with a few minor differences of the region. A mixture of stone and wood, perhaps some houses made of adobe, of middling size. It was roughly planned out, with markets near the central fountain, as well as several of the most common businesses. Livestock pens and farms were more common the further from the center of the village you went, but generally spread throughout in neat clusters. Judging by the number of houses, the village's numbers likely did not exceed a thousand, perhaps somewhere closer to half that, like many of the villages he's encountered both in the Wilds and closer to his old home. He was led into one of the houses, with a lady nearby shooing away the crowd around him.

"Azum's a cruel lord for certain. I am sorry he was your first introduction to this land, lords like Mistal or Prican are rare here. Come, let me give you a bed within my own home. You have traveled for a long time." The man holding him said, bringing him inside carefully and leading him to a plush seat. "Though, let my wife and daughter tend to your wounds, of course. I wouldn't want to deny my wife her job."

A huff from the lady from before indicated which of the two women were his wife. "It's not just my job as the village's Cleric, dear. What kind of person would I be if I did not extend care for the wounded under our house?" An only-somewhat truly irritated sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head. "Have you even told them where they are? Or who you are?"

"Ah, I'm such a fool. Please, excuse my rudeness. My name is Candumnt, head of the Famuert family and the elder of this village, Kikava. My wife Olysha is the village's cleric, and my dear daughter Ishta is my youngest and also my wife's apprentice. Welcome to our humble village, Urie Nozymas." Candumnt said, removing his grip from Urie at the same time as Ishta did. With the shock of the fall coming down, Urie could describe them a little better.

Candumnt looked to be reaching into his middle years, with his wife a little bit ahead of him. Though, considering she was a cleric, Olysha is likely a bit older than she appears. Ishta, though, looked to be about his age, perhaps a year older, rather than the many decades the Elder and the Cleric have on him. As typical with Villager kind, they bore green eyes and only a modicum of hair above the eyes, with the Elder having a small brown beard growing on him.

"Again, I thank you for all you've done for me. It is wonderful of you to care for me in my time of need, but I do not wish to intrude on your lives for too long. I intend to keep traveling west, to find out about the… anomaly, at the far end of the peninsula." Urie said, which got him confused looks from Candumnt and Ishta, but Olysha seemed to know what he spoke of.

"The Silver glow, am I correct? Are you a Cleric aswell?" Olysha asked, while she and Ishta worked on his legs. One of the benefits to having a Cleric tend to your wounds is that it is far less painful than it normally would be.

Urie shook his head, ignoring a surge of pain when one of their hands brushed his broken leg. "No, merely a Scholar's son who wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. A Shaman in the Great Anciartan Desert told me of the Magicka- sorry, Lifeblood flowing into a strange silvered glow within the Wilds, and I was intrigued enough to go looking for it."

"What glow? Mother, what are you two talking about?" Ishta said, looking up from the magical cast she was making on his broken leg. The father had a similarly questioning look.

The mother proceeded to explain what they were talking about in roughly the same way as the Shaman told Urie, however she provided an update to the feeling gained from it; it was feeling loneliness.

"Is that why you've been so distant lately, dear?" The father said, with a nod from Olysha confirming it.

"Whatever happened in the six days since it felt a great depression, the entity emitting the glow has not moved since. If you keep on your journey, you may yet reach them before winter falls upon us." She said, turning back to Urie as the magical cast was put in place.

"I see. Thank you, Cleric." Urie said with a respectful nod. "Someday I will find a way to repay you for your kindness, as I will with all others who have done so. For now, I will rest in your hospitality."

"Your kindness is accepted, mister Nozymas. Now then, shall we eat?"

The grumbling of Urie's stomach answered the question for them.

A month had passed, and Middle Spring had arrived. In that time, Urie had gotten to know the Famuert family better, and his (and Boor's) wounds healed. Of course, he did not leave immediately. Instead, Urie spent a week helping sow the village's farms for their next crop.

While he was in the village, he also shared his knowledge of Magicka, since Olysha the Cleric and her daughter were keenly interested in the knowledge a son of a Scholar of Magicka could provide. Most of it came from the books he had with him, but he did know a little from studying with his father. And of course, with discussions of Magicka, came more talks of the Silver glow in the distance. There was little, but also much, to talk about, so different theories emerged.

Urie believes that it is some monster of some kind, since Monsters are created from slight shifts in Magicka during the darkness of night and within caves. Olysha disagrees, stating that it feels "Human", though she doesn't know what that means. Only that it's what the entity sees itself as. Ishta, the least knowledgeable on the subject, mentioned the Evokers of the Illagers and the outcasts known often as Witches as possible entities responsible.

But, with his wounds healed, he had to depart soon enough. Saying his goodbyes, the traveling Nozymas began to head out west.

Thankfully, this was the last time he would be in Lord Azum's lands. From what he had heard, Azum was one of the worst lords. If he kept within the next lord's lands, he'd be able to avoid the other of the more terrible lords, Lord Embelor.

Though, that does mean he'd pass through the lands of Mistal and Prican. Lords who had allied themselves after their father had died. A confederation of Illagers.

"...What should I even expect then?"

This was not what he had expected at all.

"My lords, you are generous hosts, especially for a mere traveler like me."

Urie sat at the long table, looking very out of place as the only Villager amongst the gray-skinned Illagers. While he was hesitant to eat the food before him, he did not want to offend his sudden hosts by not eating their gifts.

Lord Prican laughed, sipping the wyne glass before speaking.

"Nonsense. You are a newcomer to our lands, and one bearing even a hint of scholarly knowledge! That, and you've told us of so many great tales from your travels!" He loudly proclaimed, before softening his tone. "And, you've warned us of the future threat of the Black-Eyed King."

"Isn't he across the Great- I mean, the Ondaberican Desert?" Urie said, taking a small bite to satisfy his hunger. Learning that the Great Anciartan Desert wasn't this one was certainly not what he was expecting. That the Illagers taught him that using a Canton Villager's journal was certainly an interesting revelation. "You shouldn't have to worry about him, especially since he's across the dunes."

"Sigh, you really have to learn to think ahead, to the future. You may be young, younger than I thought thanks to the experience you've had before coming here, but there are some lessons all should learn. Even the elder Lords in the Wilds should learn to think in the long term." Lord Mistal said, shaking her head. "He will come for us eventually. If he's already made tributaries out of the Isles, why wouldn't he come for the fabled lands of silver?"

"It's why we chose to confederate upon inheriting our father's lands. If we squabbled, the other lords would seek to reclaim lost boundaries. I'm sure Lord Murst certainly wants to." Prican said, perhaps a little bit drunk now.

"I see. That is…"

He hadn't thought of that. He came here to avoid the Black-Eyed King's wrath, but if he were to come here anyways to satisfy his insatiable thirst for conquest… Then, would nowhere in Anciart be safe? No, surely there's somewhere that could keep him safe. Maybe led by someone of the Black-Eyed King's caliber, but without the desire for conquest? Where would find someone like that?

"You are a scholar's son, correct? Would you like to learn from this manor's Evoker? Surely one such as yourself would find the discussion with one interesting?" Mistal said, leaning over the table to grab a piece of skewered mutton. He thought about it for a moment, before answering.

"I suppose not every Villager like myself would have a chance like that, my Lord. When shall I speak with them?"

"You may speak with them in the morning, then we may allow you to depart. Oh, and for the tales you have told us, we will send word out to the Outposts and the Patrols to let you pass, should you announce your name."

Urie stared at her in surprise. An Illager lord, giving out a free pass in their territory? That was unheard of! The surprise was even enough for Urie not to notice Picarn's surprise as well, before it suddenly flicked into realization and then a small knowing smile, before fading back into drink to hide a smirk.

"Are- are you certain about this, my Lord? This is… incredibly generous! I- I can't even-" Urie started to say, before he was cut off by a wave of her hand.

"It's nothing. Now, it is getting late, and in the morning you have a discussion with the Evoker. I will tell him of the coming discussion you will have, but for now you must rest. Being at one's best is a wise choice for an intellectual discussion, even the Shamans and Clerics of lesser villages will agree."

Urie nodded, before finishing his food and leaving the table with a respectful bow. Suddenly, things seemed to look up for the last Nozymas.

If it wasn't a trick of some kind.

My dear Mya, I hope you are well.

My unit has been busy, and I yearn for the days of Peace oncemore. Your last letter has kept me going, even after the last battle we had. It was harsh, and I do not think we are bound to return to Haalund. If this is goodbye, then I wish you a happy life from here on out.

I want you to leave Haalund. Head east, leave home and do not look back. Our commander is having us do the same. Hopefully, we can meet in Soxan, or somewhere else in the region. I do not know if I will see you again.

I love you, Mya.

Yours truly,

Daan

-A letter written in 12529 D.E.

By a soldier of the Republic of Haalund, in the Black-Eyed Conquest of Haalund