Has republic

"...That the guy?" Adam asked, his brow furrowed as he watched Kair secure a struggling man to a tree high above the forest floor. The ropes were tight and precise, leaving the man dangling awkwardly with his mouth gagged to prevent any calls for help. The entire scene was surreal, and Adam couldn't help but feel a little impressed at Kair's efficiency. "This was easier than I thought. So… what now?" 

Kair adjusted the knot one last time before sliding down the tree trunk with practiced ease, landing silently on the damp forest ground. His expression remained calm, though there was a spark of satisfaction in his eyes. "That's not Hemlok," he said matter-of-factly, dusting his hands off. "But this guy? Yeah, I recognize him. He's got a bounty on his head—fifty silver coins. I figured we might as well cash him in with the local guards after we deal with Hemlok. Easy money." 

Adam blinked, glancing between the tied-up man and Kair. "You're multi-tasking bounty hunting now? That's… efficient, I guess." 

Kair didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied the dense forest around them, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of movement. The trees here were tall and ancient, their thick trunks covered in moss and tangled with creeping vines. The canopy above was dense, allowing only faint streaks of sunlight to filter through, casting mottled patterns on the forest floor. The air was heavy with the earthy scent of damp wood and decaying leaves, and the occasional chirp of distant birds added a strange calmness to the otherwise quiet surroundings. 

"If my intel's right," Kair finally said, pointing toward the deeper part of the forest, "Hemlok likes to hang out here. Makes sense—it's remote, hard to navigate, and full of hiding spots. If he's got a hideout, it's probably somewhere nearby. We need to split up to cover more ground." 

Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Split up? Isn't that, like, the first rule of 'don't get yourself killed' you're breaking?" 

Kair shrugged, already turning toward the left. "We'll cover more ground this way. You go right; I'll take the left. Keep an eye out for anything unusual—footprints, smoke, or signs of recent activity. If you find anything, yell as loud as you can. I'll hear it." 

Before Adam could protest further, Kair disappeared into the thick undergrowth, his steps nearly silent despite the crunch of fallen leaves beneath his boots. Adam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced toward his assigned direction. 

"Great," he muttered under his breath, stepping into the dense rightward path. "Wandering through a creepy forest looking for a killer. What could possibly go wrong?" 

The forest on Adam's side was dense, with thick, gnarled roots protruding from the earth, making every step a potential tripping hazard. The air felt cooler here, and the shadows seemed to stretch longer, giving the area an eerie, almost otherworldly atmosphere. Every now and then, he spotted scratches on the bark of trees or broken branches, but it was hard to tell if they were signs of Hemlok or just the work of wild animals. 

As he moved further, he began noticing subtle signs—scraps of cloth snagged on thorns, faint trails of disturbed dirt, and even a smudge of soot on a nearby rock. "Looks like I might be on to something," Adam murmured, crouching to examine the soot more closely. 

The silence around him was almost oppressive now, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed, its cry echoing ominously through the forest. Adam stood, his senses on high alert as he pressed forward, hoping that if he did find something, Kair wouldn't be far behind.

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"…Ms. Eldez, you look… different. Did your hair get shorter? Or did you cut it? Why? I really liked your long hair!" Varin said, her tone tinged with disappointment as she walked alongside Ms. Eldez through the bustling streets of a northern town in the Has Republic. The woman's new, cropped hairstyle was a stark contrast to the cascading locks Varin had admired. 

Ms. Eldez glanced at her but didn't seem particularly moved by the remark. Her expression remained calm, her piercing eyes scanning their surroundings. Snowflakes swirled gently in the air, a testament to the town's proximity to the frigid mountain range. "Hair is hair," Ms. Eldez finally said. "It grows back. Besides, shorter hair is easier to manage when traveling." 

"I wish my hair could grow that long," Varin sighed wistfully, fiddling with a strand of her own unruly locks. "But taking care of it would be such a pain. You must've spent forever maintaining it!" 

Ms. Eldez chuckled softly but didn't respond, her attention shifting to the snow-dusted cobblestones beneath her boots. The town of Bwer stretched out before them, its architecture rustic yet sturdy, clearly built to withstand harsh winters. Wooden homes with steeply sloped roofs were clustered together, their chimneys puffing trails of smoke into the gray sky. Despite the cold, the streets bustled with activity. Merchants haggled over goods, their voices echoing through the crisp air, and townsfolk bundled in thick cloaks shuffled through the market square. 

As they walked, Varin's curiosity bubbled over yet again. "Ms. Eldez, are these the Quezar Mountains? I've heard about them, but honestly, they don't look that impressive." She gestured toward the snow-capped peaks in the distance, their jagged silhouettes piercing the horizon. 

Ms. Eldez stopped briefly, her boots crunching on the thin layer of snow beneath them. She turned her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "No, these are the Has Mountain Range. The Quezar Mountains are farther north from here. Should you ever find yourself there, you'd best make peace with your deity of choice," she said, her tone calm but laced with an ominous edge. "Death would come swiftly. Without proper magical protections, you'd be turned into an ice statue within seconds." 

Varin's eyes widened as she stared at the mountains again. "Really? That bad? How come it's so cold there?" 

Ms. Eldez let out a soft laugh, one that carried a strange mix of warmth and mystery. "It's believed to be the result of an ancient weather calamity—one that never dissipated or was left unresolved. As for the exact cause? I wouldn't know. I wasn't around during its origins." 

Varin tilted her head, her curiosity only growing. "Wow, Ms. Eldez. You're like a genius or something!" 

Ms. Eldez laughed again, this time louder, her voice ringing pleasantly through the chilly air. "Not at all, my dear. I've simply had a great deal of time on my hands and seen much of the world during my lifetime." 

Varin's gaze lingered on Ms. Eldez, her mind racing with questions. She couldn't help but wonder just how old this enigmatic woman was, or how much she had seen and experienced. Despite Ms. Eldez's outwardly youthful appearance, there was an air of timelessness about her—a depth in her words and mannerisms that hinted at countless untold stories. 

As they continued walking, the wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant woodsmoke. The towering peaks of the Has Mountain Range loomed ever closer, their icy grandeur both beautiful and foreboding. The conversation lulled for a moment, leaving Varin to ponder the mysteries of her companion.

______________________

"Uruua!!! U ru waaaaaa!!!! Wake up! It's time! The festival is here! Come on, I don't want to miss it!"

The self-proclaimed Magic King, Martimus, was bouncing around like an overgrown child, his booming voice shaking the very foundation of the palace. His massive, rippling muscles flexed with each bounce, and his long, snowy-white beard seemed to have a life of its own, flapping wildly in sync with his movements. The scene was a bizarre juxtaposition: a hulking man, whose physique rivaled the mightiest of warriors and whose face bore the wisdom of centuries, was currently behaving like a hyperactive child on too much sugar.

"Uruuaaaaaa!!!" he bellowed again, leaning over his so-called wife, shaking her lightly by the shoulder.

Unfortunately for Martimus, his enthusiasm was about to meet a very firm—and very painful—reality.

"Bwaaa!" The rest of his shout was abruptly cut off as Uruua's fist connected with his jaw, sending him hurtling through the air like a cannonball. He crashed through the intricately carved stone wall, obliterating it completely, and landed in a heap of rubble. Dust filled the room, settling over the chaotic mess.

From within the shadows of the bedchamber, a figure stirred. Uruua rose slowly, her long, silver hair cascading down her back like molten moonlight, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Her piercing yellow eyes, sharp and serpentine, narrowed as she surveyed the damage she'd just caused. Her skin-tight armor, which shimmered like dragon scales, only added to her imposing presence.

"I told you not to wake me when I'm sleeping," she hissed, her tone as venomous as her glare. Stretching lazily, she added with an exasperated sigh, "Every single day, you make me regret staying in this ridiculous place."

From the rubble, Martimus groaned as he pulled himself up, brushing off debris as if it were nothing more than dust on his shoulder. His grin was as wide as ever, his childlike excitement entirely undimmed by the violent wake-up call.

"Ah, that's right! You're always grumpy when you wake up," he said cheerily, as though that somehow justified his persistence. He suddenly threw his arms wide, his booming voice returning with even more vigor, "BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE URUUUAAAAA!!! IT'S TIME FOR THE FESTIVAL OF STRENGTH!!! MAGIC!!! MUSCLES!!! SWORDS!!! AND MMMMMMMMMAGIC!!!!!!! WAAAAAA!!!!"

His voice echoed through the palace, shaking the walls that still remained intact. The sheer force of it made nearby decorative suits of armor topple over like dominoes.

Uruua closed her eyes, her brow twitching with suppressed irritation. She raised a hand, and a sphere of crackling energy materialized in her palm. Without a word, she hurled it at Martimus. The blast hit him square in the chest, sending him flying once again, this time through the opposite wall.

"I said quiet," Uruua growled, rubbing her temples as though trying to ward off a headache. She let out a long, weary sigh. "Mother above, grant me patience—or at least the strength to survive another day with this fool."

Meanwhile, Martimus had somehow landed upright, completely unfazed by the magical assault. He dusted himself off again, his smile still impossibly wide. "HA! YOU CAN'T DAMPEN MY SPIRITS, URUUAAAAA!!! I'LL BE WAITING OUTSIDE FOR YOU! MUSCLES! MAGIC! WAAAAAA!!!"

Uruua groaned and muttered under her breath as she began preparing for the day. "This is my life now. A giant toddler with muscles and a death wish…"

In the background, Martimus could be heard loudly singing a festival anthem, his voice echoing through the palace and into the frosty morning air outside. Uruua glared at the hole in the wall, deciding whether it was worth patching it up—or leaving it as a warning for any other overzealous lunatics who might dare to wake her up.

Uruua sighed as she stood in her room, the remnants of her bed still scattered from Martimus's earlier antics. Muttering to herself, she waved her hand, conjuring a set of clothes befitting her human-like form. As a dragon, she had no real need for clothing—her scales, shimmering like molten silver, were more than sufficient to protect her from anything. But appearances mattered among humans, and Uruua reluctantly played the part.

Her outfit materialized as a flowing silver dress, its fabric catching the light in a way that gave it an otherworldly shimmer, as though woven from starlight itself. Though simple in design, with modest cuts and flowing lines, it exuded an elegance that could only come from the draconic magic used to create it. The dress moved fluidly as she did, whispering softly with each step, a contrast to the sharp clinking sound of her clawed feet against the stone floor.

Leaving her room, she found Martimus in the main hall, bouncing in place like an overgrown child who had just discovered candy. His massive frame seemed almost comical in comparison to his exuberance, his muscles bulging beneath his royal robes. Those robes were a patchwork of deep blues and shimmering gold, clearly meant to evoke power and authority—though Martimus wore them with all the grace of a bear trying on a tuxedo.

"Martimus," Uruua began, her voice as calm as the first snowfall, though her piercing yellow eyes betrayed her growing annoyance. "Don't you still have high council duties to attend to? You are part of the High Council—the governing body of the Has Republic. That makes you responsible for its safety and prosperity. Or have you conveniently forgotten?"

Martimus waved a dismissive hand, his booming voice cutting through her words. "Bah! Who cares about all that boring nonsense? The others will take care of it. I have to prepare for the MMMMAGIC TOURNAMENT!" He puffed out his chest, flexing dramatically. "MAGIC! MUSCLES! SWORDS! OUWAAAAAA!"

Uruua closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. For a moment, she seriously contemplated hurling him into another continent. Just as she was about to raise her hand, however, a young maid appeared, timidly approaching the pair.

"Um... Master Martimus, Mistress Uruua," the maid began, her voice trembling slightly as she adjusted her simple uniform, a neat black-and-white ensemble complete with a spotless apron and a modest bow tied at the back. Her brown hair was tied into pigtails that swayed nervously as she spoke. "Lunch has been prepared."

"Who needs food when there's magic to be seen?!" Martimus boomed, his voice rattling the nearby chandelier.

The maid hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her apron. "Umm… Master Martimus… the festival is in one week's time. It won't happen until then."

Martimus froze mid-flex, his face contorting in confusion. "What? No, no, that can't be right. I checked the calendar!" With exaggerated flourish, he pulled out a piece of parchment, unrolling it dramatically.

The maid leaned forward nervously, pointing to the parchment. "Um… Master Martimus, that's the calendar for the Arhime Academy Celebration… happening next year around the same time."

Martimus stared at the parchment, flipping it upside down as if that might change the truth. Sure enough, the dates confirmed the maid's statement. "Ah… damn." He scratched his head, his beard bouncing with each movement. "Uruua! There's no festival! Waaah! What do I do now? Help me make time go faster or something!"

Kneeling before Uruua in mock desperation, Martimus clasped his hands together, his massive frame almost comically small in comparison to the towering presence of the dragon in human form.

Uruua sighed deeply, her patience finally snapping. "Enough." She raised a hand, effortlessly gripping Martimus by the head as if he were a mere child. With a flick of her wrist, she hurled him through the air. His body broke the sound barrier with a deafening crack, disappearing into the horizon. Somewhere far, far away, the citizens of the Has Republic would see a flash of light as their so-called Magic King crash-landed on the other side of the realm.

The maid stood frozen in place, her wide eyes darting between the hole in the wall and Uruua. "U-uhm… Mistress Uruua, lunch is—"

"What do we have?" Uruua interrupted, smoothing out her dress as if nothing had happened. Her expression was calm, though her golden eyes glimmered faintly with restrained irritation.

"Uh… the usual, Mistress. Roast quail, fresh herb salad, and honeyed bread," the maid stammered.

"Good." Uruua nodded, her silver dress shimmering as she strode toward the dining hall. "Let's eat. At least one of us has some sense today."

Behind her, the maid scurried to catch up, silently praying Martimus wouldn't return anytime soon.

______________

Adam squinted at the sky, his brow furrowing as he watched a blazing streak of light hurtling across the heavens. The fiery trail illuminated the sky in bursts of orange and gold, its speed far too fast to be anything mundane. "Hey, uh, Kair… what's that? What's a comet doing here, flying across the sky like that?" he asked, pointing upward.

Kair glanced up, his expression unbothered. "Oh, that? It's probably Council Member Martimus. Happens every so often," he said nonchalantly, as if a person streaking through the sky like a meteor was just another Tuesday.

Adam blinked, his brain struggling to process the words. "Ah… what the fuck is wrong with this place?" he muttered under his breath, half to himself.

"What's wrong with you? You're here too, aren't you?" Kair shot back without missing a beat. His tone carried that casual sarcasm that made Adam want to argue, but he held his tongue, knowing he wouldn't win.

"…Touché," Adam muttered, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his worn, travel-stained coat.

Kair crouched down near a patch of undergrowth, holding up a scrap of cloth Adam had found earlier. His clothes, a mix of dark leather armor and a loose, hooded jacket, were worn but functional, with a patchwork of small tears and seams that spoke to his life on the move. His boots left faint impressions in the dirt as he knelt closer to the ground, inspecting the fabric with a frown.

"This is where you said you found the scraps, right?" Kair asked, his voice now more focused. Adam nodded.

"Hmm…" Kair sniffed the cloth, his sharp blue eyes narrowing in concentration. "Problem is, I've never smelled anything of Hemlok's before. No scent profile to work with. But this looks fresh enough—might be worth following it to see where it leads."

"You're sniffing the cloth like a damn bloodhound," Adam quipped, crossing his arms. "You sure you're not part dog?"

Kair ignored the jab, standing and tucking the scrap into one of the small pouches on his belt. Without another word, he adjusted his hood—now off from earlier—and began walking with a deliberate pace through the dense forest. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting fragmented patterns of silver and shadow across the uneven ground.

Adam sighed, shaking his head as he trailed after him. "Weirdos… weirdos everywhere," he mumbled to himself, glancing around at the thick, towering trees and the occasional rustle of unseen animals in the underbrush. His own boots crunched softly on the fallen leaves, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness.

Ahead of him, Kair walked with purpose, his movements fluid and confident, like someone who had spent their whole life navigating forests and wild terrain. His leather armor creaked faintly with each step, the small metal buckles glinting in the moonlight. Adam found himself begrudgingly impressed by Kair's focus, even as he muttered sarcastic remarks to himself.

"Any idea where this might lead?" Adam called out, stepping over a fallen branch.

"Not a clue," Kair replied without turning around. "But it's better than sitting around doing nothing."

"Yeah, sure," Adam muttered, glancing back toward the sky where the "comet" had disappeared. "Better than getting hit by flying council members, I guess."