Chapter I Aigleterre, the seat of the Adamantean Crown of Avalon

And here I am, back in Avalon, the sprawling Contiguous Empire that holds within its borders a tapestry of Kingdoms, Grand Duchies, and lands stretching across the vast expanse of the Avalon Continent. The heartbeat of this realm resides in the City of Aigleterre, the hub of power under the Albion Fields Crown Lands, or simply Albion. After a perilous journey beyond the towering Gungnir mountain range, I find myself back in my homeland. But before we dive into that adventure, let me paint you a picture of my country.

The Imperial Realms of Avalon, as some fondly name it, has held sway over the Avalon Continent for over a thousand years, guided by the wisdom and charm of an Emperor who's both astute and kind-hearted. Though diverse faiths flourish within Avalon's embrace, the great deity Odin stands as a central figure, revered not only within the Empire but across neighboring lands as well. At the heart of this devotion lies the Aigleterre Sanctuary, a sacred haven dedicated to Odin's worship, nestled within the very heart of Avalon's capital.

The strategic placement of Aigleterre at the crossroads of the Avalon Continent has played a pivotal role in its ascent as a trade epicenter. This prosperity, woven through the ages, has cemented the metropolis' standing and influence. And at the helm of this mighty realm stands Emperor Jacques Ulster V of Dún Dealgan Motte, his reign spanning the entire expanse of the Avalon Continent, a realm teeming with countless souls.

The Avalon Empire champions the Odin Pantheon Orthodoxy, a cultural tapestry woven from the love of freedom that beats within the hearts of its people. A testament to this spirit is the raucous annual brawl fights and the exhilarating martial arts festivity, held in reverence to Odin's name, turning the City of Hafenstadt into a vivid celebration.

Now, let me unveil the complex governance that underpins this grand Empire. The vast territories, spanning from tribal communities to bustling cities, are guided by an intricate web of feudal lords, led by the commanding figures of Kings, Grand Dukes, and Lord Paramounts. A more direct rule emanates from the Adamantean Table, streamlining the Empire's administration while allowing constituent states to wield autonomy over matters like taxation and military prowess.

Examples abound, like the valiant Crusaders, an arm of the Chivalric Order of Avalon, who heed the call of the Sand King, Lord Paramount of Alsahra. Then, there's the Sandtroopers, a division within the League of Swordsmen, and the Desert Wasps, a branch of the Archer's Coalition. These units operate under the watchful guidance of the Duke of Iberia. Amidst all this stands the Mountain Constables of Gungnir, noble Knights in the Gungnir Constabulary Branch.

Whispers reach us that Mittelmeerwuste, an eastern sovereign state devoted to the goddess Hera, is forging a formidable force in response to trade embargoes by Avalon and Nordenbergwald. To counter this, the Empire rallies behind the Chivalric Order of Avalon and Brythonia School of Wizardry, pillars of Avalon's military might. However, as if a twist of fate, the enigmatic Imperium Baetylus appears before Emperor Jacques, often believed to manifest during times of tribulation, fueling his concern for potential hidden hands behind these strange occurrences.

Amongst these intricacies, Avalon maintains an alliance with the Federal Republic of Nordenbergwald, a land of lush forests and towering mountains up north, and an arid, rugged expanse along the border of the Avalon Continent. The tales also speak of another relic, the Soul of Ymir, a foundation upon which the world of Midgard rests. Ages past, Odin vanquished the giant Ymir, harnessing fragments of its soul to shape the realm of Midgard. Yet, this saga holds a different chapter for those in Mittelmeerwuste, who revere the Hellenistic Pantheon. Regardless, these fragments sustain Midgard's vitality, cloaked in secrecy.

So here I stand, recounting tales of the grandeur and complexity that is Avalon, my homeland, a realm where history, spirituality, and power converge in an intricate dance. Alright, so picture this: the future of Avalon's monarchy rests in the hands of seven royal families, each with last names that sound like something out of a legendary tale - Ulster, Borjigin, Pendragon, Umayyad, Lothbrok, Al-Shahnameh, and Merovingian. These families, together with the Kings and Grand Dukes of the whole Empire, are what make up what they call the Adamantean Table. It's like a fancy term for the monarchy, and it's all overseen by the big boss, known as the Adamantean Crown – basically, the ruler.

Now, here's where it gets interesting. The archdukes, who represent these royal families, need to prove they're up to the task. They're put under the magnifying glass by their own folks, and eventually, one of them gets chosen through a sort of internal rulebook. But hold on, there's a twist. With all the crazy stuff happening lately, including the return of this dude Surtr, the Empire's shaking things up a bit. They're letting experienced aristocrats, military bigwigs, and even brave adventurers have a say in who becomes the next ruler. Talk about a whole new way of doing things!

Now, let's dive into some history. Way back, thousands of years ago, there was this massive serpent named Jormungandr that decided to bring chaos to the land. But wait for it – seven legendary warriors showed up and kicked that serpent's tail, saving the day for Avalon. Leading the pack was Adler, the son of King Cu Chulainn and Queen Scathach of Dún Dealgan Motte. This dude had a spear called Gae Bulg, and get this – it was made from the bones of a sea monster, crafted by his own mom. And guess what? This spear was a real showstopper. When Adler hurled it at his enemies, it'd explode into a bunch of deadly barbs, and then somehow magically return to him in one piece. Talk about a killer boomerang!

So, with the serpent chaos out of the way, these seven legendary warriors decided to put their heads together and start something pretty epic: the Empire of Avalon. And to lead the charge, they chose Adler Ulster I as the first-ever ruler of this new empire. Fast forward to today, and those seven warrior families – yep, the ones descended from those original heroes – are still competing for the throne. Why? To keep the empire in check and stop any corruption from creeping in. It's like a never-ending battle for the coolest seat in the house! So, let's rewind the clock to this wild moment at 994 AM, when someone tried to break Surtr out of his prison. But hold up, those Brethren of Slayers weren't about to let that slide. They swooped in and put a stop to it. This whole piece of history, though, added a whole new layer of complexity to the whole Emperor election gig.

Now, the Empire's in need of a leader who's got some serious guts – someone ready to step up and do whatever it takes to keep the citizens safe. And trust me, the Empire's a big mashup of different parts. You've got the Albion Fields Crown Lands, which are like the big boss's direct domain. Then there's the Viceroyalty of Brythonia, the Kingdom of Alsahra, the Grand Duchy of Batavia, the Kingdom of Joseon, the Grand Duchy of Schwertsheim, the Grand Duchy of Tandaya, the Grand Duchy of Buracai, and the Grand Duchy of Gungnir. And that's not even the end of the list. More recent players in the game include the Grand Duchy of Mairete, the Grand Duchy of Vornehmruhe, and the Grand Duchy of Yulesbergen.

Now, picture this: the Tribal Chief-King of Mairete straight-up pledged loyalty to the Emperor. On the flip side, Vornehmruhe, kind of run by the Alchemist Guild, knocked on the Adamantean Table's door, asking to join the gang. And Yulesbergen, a client state, got a promotion, becoming a Grand Duchy under House Zimboreas, with the Blizzard Queen holding the reins. But there's a twist. Remember the Kingdom of Geistheim? Yeah, they got the downgrade to territory status and sort of fell under Brythonia's rule. Trouble is, rogue demons from Muspelheim, all under the rule of the villainous Evil Lord Czernobog, have moved in and set up shop. These guys are giving the middle finger to the Adamantean Table, and reclaiming that land has been one heck of a struggle. The Table, with some help from the Viceroyalty of Brythonia, managed to nab the Orc Stronghold and the Gobelin Foret – but there's still plenty of orc and goblin shenanigans going down. And even though it's a bumpy ride, Geistheim's still a crucial piece of the Empire's puzzle. Just keep in mind, dealing with insurgents and uprisings is all part of the Empire game. Alright, let's dive back into the heart of things – our very own capital, Aigleterre. Yep, I'm right here in the midst of it all, walking along the main street as the hustle and bustle of humanity surrounds me. So, while I'm strolling through this lively crowd, let me give you the lowdown on our city.

You see, Aigleterre has quite a history. Way back in the day, it faced a serious smackdown from the Witch of Endor and her wicked partner, Lilith. They were after this powerful thing called the Soul of Ymir, chilling out beneath the castle. But hold on to your hats – a brave bunch of warriors managed to take down these witches, but somehow lost the Soul of Ymir to this mysterious lady who rocked a rather daring outfit. Not that we know much about her beyond her fashion choices, mind you.

After that whole ordeal, Aigleterre got a major makeover. It rose from the ashes like a phoenix, turning into this rectangular masterpiece of a city. And to tip its hat to Odin, there's this grand statue and a fountain right smack in the middle of the city, giving props to the big man himself. Now, when it comes to the city's makeup, there are eight distinct parts. Seven of them are the Archduchies, the territories ruled by the seven imperial families, and the eighth is where all the bureaucratic magic happens.

These Archduchies go by some pretty cool names: Dún Dealgan Motte, home to the Ulsters; Avarga, the territory of the Borjigins; Camelot, where the Pendragons hold court; Damascus et Cordova, under the Umayyads; Nordheathenstadt, ruled by the Lothbroks; Rodastahm, the realm of the Al-Shahnamehs; and Francosalia, where the Merovingians reign supreme.

Let me tell you, Aigleterre is far from a sleepy town. It's a megapolis, alive and buzzing with people going about their business. You'll find the majestic Aigleterre Cathedral standing tall here, along with the base of the Emperor's Chivalry. And hey, if you've got dreams of becoming a Knight, a Cavalier, or even a Presbyter, this is the place to be. Many folks gather here, chasing their aspirations with stars in their eyes.

Alright, let's dive into the fascinating world of professions, starting with the valiant knights. You know what makes a Knight? Well, first things first, you've got to be a seasoned Swordsman. These guys are all about the sword – it's in their name, after all. They're the ones who can take a serious beating without backing down easily. Now, while picking up the skills of a Swordsman might not be too hard, mastering the Way of the Sword? That's a whole different story. Swordsmen, and yes, swordswomen too, begin their journey into swordsmanship from a young age. They're not just honing their combat skills, they're growing their minds and bodies, dedicating themselves wholeheartedly to the art of the sword. This is where the true warrior spirit is forged. And believe me, Swordsmen aren't just good with their offense – they're solid defenders too. They're the ones charging onto battlefields, providing a shield for their teammates. But here's the thing, a true Swordsman doesn't just flaunt their physical might to their enemies. No, that's not how it works. They have a code.

The history of Swordsmen and swordswomen stretches way back, all the way to the early days of the Age of Gods. They've mostly served lords and kings, being the armor-clad guardians of the realm. And while it's not the norm, you can find the occasional lone Swordsman out there. Oh, and get this, Emperor Adler Ulster III once issued a royal edict that paved the way for new Swordsmen to get trained up for the chivalry. And where do they learn? Well, at the League of Swordsmen, of course.

The League of Swordsmen's deal is turning eager students into skilled sword-wielding warriors. They used to hang out in Aigleterre, but they've packed their bags and set up shop in the Grand Duchy of Schwertsheim. And hey, they don't just churn out soldiers for Avalon's Army – they're also in the business of hiring out Swordsman mercenaries. These are the real pros, wielding hefty two-handed swords. The cream of the crop among them hold the title of Centurion, leading a formidable army of a hundred soldiers. And you might have noticed, I can talk a lot, but that's just me.

Alright, now, after surviving grueling training and taking on missions as a Swordsman, you can aim even higher. Ever heard of the Aigleterre Knightage? That's where you train to become a knight. And guess what? The Chivalric Order of Avalon, headquartered in Aigleterre, is the big shot among knightly orders in Avalon. Swordsmen from all over dream of joining their ranks. These knights are all about serving the Empire, ready to defend it no matter what. They're the front line, the shield against threats. And just so you know, fresh recruits often come straight from the League of Swordsmen, ready to make their mark. Let's dive into the world of knights, shall we? These folks are all about the art of the sword and spear. They're the ones who can take a real pounding and keep on standing. Oh, and guess what? They also hire out spearman mercenaries. These mercenaries, provided by the Chivalric Order of Avalon, are total pros at handling spears. Think of them like the spear-wielding guardians you'd find in Aigleterre, where the guild calls home. Just like the sword mercenaries, the top title a spearman mercenary can earn is Centurion. They're the crème de la crème, leading a force of their own.

Now, remember the Praetorian Guard, the special branch of the Chivalric Order of Avalon? Yeah, they were all about keeping Geistheim safe. But when Geistheim fell, so did the guild. However, they've made a comeback recently, though now they share duties with the current Chivalric Order of Avalon. It's a different game these days.

And here's the cool part: there's a fresh branch of the Chivalric Order of Avalon called the Crusaders. These folks are on a mission, lending a hand to the homeless in Alsahra and defending the kingdom against these resurrected versions of Surtr. They're directly under the command of the Sand King, Alsahra's old-school title for their ruler. And guess what? They're the first line of defense for the whole Empire. Talk about a tough gig!

Now, let's talk about moving up the knightly ladder. When Knights put in years of hardcore training, they level up to Baronets. These are Knights who've scored the blessings of a Valkyrie. You're looking at a skillset that's a perfect balance between offense and defense. These guys are weapon masters, with a knack for wielding Two-handed Swords and Spears. A Baronet packs a serious punch when it comes to attacking and can break through an opponent's defense like it's nothing. Being a Baronet means they've got some seriously improved offensive and defensive moves up their sleeves. Alright, time to uncover another batch of badass knights – the Mage Barons. These folks are like a whole new breed of elite warriors. They're into a different kind of magic, one that's tied to these things called Rune Stones. Now, these Rune Stones let you cast spells crazy fast, but here's the catch: Mage Barons can only carry a limited number of them at any given time. Plus, they need a bunch of materials to craft different types of these Rune Stones.

So, how did this whole Mage Baron thing start? Well, it began with a bunch of Baronets on a journey through Neueweltz. Imagine this – they stumbled upon a Sage who decided to teach them all about runes. As they got the hang of runes, these knights started to feel the magical flow, just like actual magicians. They figured out how to infuse Rune Stones with mana, giving them a whole new kind of magic to throw down in battles. Pretty neat, right? These Mage Barons were blown away by their newfound powers, so they hung out in Neueweltz for a while, perfecting their runic skills and keeping it all hush-hush.

But you know how it goes – word got out, especially after that new passage to Neueweltz opened up. And just like that, adventurers from all over learned about the Mage Barons and their unique magic. Now, these Mage Barons are on another level when it comes to power, something the world doesn't fully grasp. They wrapped up their Neueweltz training and marched right back to the Empire of Avalon, ready to use their rune magic to bring order to the chaos.

Now, here's where it gets interesting. These Mage Barons used to ride these impressive Zandyagow Steeds, but ordinary animals couldn't quite handle their intense mana. But guess what? Wyverns, these magical creatures, totally vibe with the Mage Barons and recognize them as their masters. Together, they're a force to be reckoned with, swooping into battles to wreak havoc on their enemies.

Just picture this – the Mage Barons' legend quickly spread during the recent Ziggurat Desert War, right where the Neueweltz connects with our world. And you know what happened? Knights from all corners started flocking to join their ranks. Talk about being in high demand!

Alright, let's talk about the Cavaliers – these guys are all about shield work and they've got some divine tricks up their sleeves too. Think spells like Grandiose Crucifix and Sacrificare, both of which are laced with that Holy magic mojo. Their gig? Safeguarding the Aigleterre Cathedral and making sure the clergy stays safe from the dark forces out there.

Now, after setting up the Church of Odin, the Cavaliers stepped in. They're like the bodyguards for all the Odinism devotees. Their mission? Helping out the church members in wiping out demons and those nasty evil spirits from the world. They've got a steady stream of fresh recruits coming in from the League of Swordsmen, just like the Knights do.

And guess what? Just like Knights, when Cavaliers work their tails off through years of training, they level up to become Lord Paladins. These are the big shots in the Cavalier world. And let me tell you, these Lord Paladins? They're no joke. Their power is pretty darn divine. Just imagine this – they're all about spreading the word of Odin. Non-believers, watch out – you're in for a conversion. Sinners, you better believe they'll have you repenting. These guys are the embodiment of piety and devotion, fighting for Odin and their fellow humans. They've got skills that can either dish out some divine justice or inspire the faithful.

Oh, and let me take you back for a second. I can still hear those words ringing in my ears, like echoes from the past. Outside the Aigleterre sanctuary, near grimdall square, you'd hear these warriors, fresh back from Jagdwalden, marching with a caravan of pilgrims. Those words? They were like a calling card, a reminder of the power these Cavaliers wielded. Let's rewind the clock a bit and talk about another set of elite Cavaliers making a grand return – the Praetorian Guards. These guys have bounced back on the scene after a bit of a hiatus. So, what's the deal with these Praetorian Guards? They're like this top-notch order of Cavaliers and Lord Paladins. And guess where they originally served? Under the rule of King Tsarbatusain from Geistheim. This dude had a pretty keen sense that his kingdom needed some serious protection from all the chaos and madness in the world. And you know what he did? He cooked up this special defense unit that answered directly to him. And that's how the Gryphon-riding Praetorian Guards came into play.

Picture this: around 711 AM, roughly three centuries ago, King Tsarbatusain Von Borjigin put his plan into action. This guy was ahead of his time, realizing he needed a special force to handle the constant threats his kingdom faced from enemies and internal strife. So, he gathered the best of the best, Knights, Cavaliers, and Lord Paladins, who were already in awe of his leadership. They gladly signed up to be a part of his elite unit, which he lovingly named the Praetorian Guards.

These folks were no slouches. They developed their own exclusive combat techniques, passing them down only within their ranks. And let me tell you, even though they were top dogs as Praetorian Guards, they didn't shy away from lending their might in military missions or monster hunts. Their reputation was like a terror that haunted their enemies' dreams, bolstering King Tsarbatusain's influence over his realm and even the enemy territories.

But here's the twist: not everyone was a fan of these Praetorian Guards. Their unwavering loyalty to King Tsarbatusain drew the ire of other military outfits within the kingdom. Then came the mysterious disappearance of the king, and, well, things started falling apart due to all the political pressure. Eventually, the Praetorian Guards disbanded, leaving their legacy to gather dust. But before they officially went kaput, the remaining members took off from the kingdom, stashing away their secret books and records of combat skills. Time passed, and the people sort of forgot about them.

But wait for it – these legendary Praetorian Guards have made a comeback, shaking off the cobwebs and taking their place in history once again.

Let's dive into the world of Presbyters, the healers and supporters of the crew. These guys are all about patching up wounds and even bringing fallen comrades back to life after battles. Now, most of these Presbyters are all about Odin – they worship him and even go on these pilgrimages to the Church of Odin in Aigleterre. And guess what? These folks have some pretty potent Holy magic. They're like the ultimate demon and undead busters.

But let's backtrack a bit. To become a Presbyter, you've got to start as a Deacon. Deacons are these natural-born helpers who've got a knack for using Holy magic. Once the Church of Odin was set up, people from all over the continent flocked to Aigleterre, eager to become Deacons and soak in Odin's teachings. And guess what happens next? When these Presbyters go through their grueling training, they level up to become Archbishops. These guys are like the embodiment of serene spirituality. When chaos hits, they're like an unbreakable shield, ready to protect their comrades no matter how ferocious the enemy.

But wait, there's more! These Archbishops aren't done learning. They've got to hit up the Gods themselves to pick up a few more tricks. And let me tell you, they've got some seriously divine skills now. They can create these peaceful zones where violence just doesn't fly. More healing, more blessings – they're like the ultimate servants of the Gods.

Let's talk about the Cardinals now. These guys are like supercharged Presbyters who can cast healing and buffs over a whole party. Their Holy magic skills? They've got a crazy wide range, covering more ground than a regular Presbyter or even an Archbishop.

But here's where the story takes a turn. Remember that Holy War? It ended, but the Archbishops still sensed something ominous in the air. They figured out that just "protecting peace" wasn't enough. So, some of them went on this epic pilgrimage to an ancient temple at the edge of the continent, seeking more power from holiness itself. Only one dude came back from that journey, but he had the Holy Grail with him – this shining cup with some miraculous water in it.

Now, the church leaders kept the Holy Grail in their holiest spot, trying to crack its secrets. Word spread like wildfire, and people from everywhere flocked to see it. But some shady characters wanted to get their hands on it. So, the church stepped in and formed a group of special Presbyters – the Cardinals. These guys were like the Grail's bodyguards. They believed that this Holy Grail would rid the world of evil and bring back peace, and they were ready to use their holy powers to make it happen.

And there you have it – a breakdown of those professions, all explained just like that, haha! So, as I strolled through the center fountain area, something caught my eye – things had definitely changed. It's like the Grand Chancellor and Aigleterre's Lord Mayor gave a nod, and bam, the whole place turned into this bustling free market. Vendors were peddling their wares, and shoppers were on the hunt for all sorts of stuff. Oh, by the way, Emperor Jacques Ulster V had given the green light for folks to visit the castle. But you know, don't expect to see the Emperor chilling in his imperial chamber. That dude's swamped, let me tell you. So, that's how Aigleterre has grown, a massive metropolis perched on a big ol' hill in the mainland. And right in the heart of it all is grimdall town square. Look up, and there's the Aigleterre castle, like a majestic crown on top of the city. And that's just the city proper – talk about a jaw-dropping sight.

Now, picture this – around the city proper are these eight boroughs, each with its own vibe. These boroughs are known as the Archduchies. Camelot's claim to fame is its casinos and snazzy hotels, while Damascus et Cordova has half the business district, leaving the other half for Francosalia. The secretive types are hanging out in Dún Dealgan Motte, not in the city proper like the other agencies. I'm just wondering if they slapped the "ingrate" label on me after I split from the Bureau. But hey, before I dive into that, I've got to satisfy a more primal urge – I need a drink, like now. I've missed the sweet nectar of booze so much that it shot right up to the top of my to-do list the moment I got back here.

So, check it out – in the southeastern part of town, there's this tavern. But here's the kicker – the Lord Mayor declared Aigleterre proper a no-alcohol zone. Yeah, that's a buzzkill. But don't you worry, someone in the pub knows where to lead you if you're after a place that's not so dry. Lucky for me, I'm in the know. If I wasn't, I'd probably still be pulling some bootlegging stunts in the sketchier parts of town. Ah, but that was way back, like five years ago if my memory serves me right. And you might be thinking, "How the heck do you know all this history?" Well, my friend, I cracked open a book called "The History Book of Albion." It's basically a time machine that takes you from way back to the present day. Although, fair warning, reading those teeny tiny letters might make you a bit drowsy.

Anyway, I was about to waltz into that super-secret tavern when it hit me like a sack of bricks – I had zilch money on me. Time to hustle some ad gigs, and fast, or I'll be bedding down in a gutter tonight, with an empty stomach to boot. Worst-case scenario? No mug of ale for my long-awaited homecoming. I dashed back to the town square, scanning around for any potential gigs, but it seemed like slim pickings. So there I was, loitering by a guard post, probably looking a bit lost, when my gaze landed on a posted note that practically shouted, "Hey, over here!"

It read:

"Hey there, curious soul! The Ponceau du Albion – that's our fancy underground water system here in Aigleterre – is in a bit of a pickle. The Knights of the Aigleterre Chivalry are on the hunt for some brave souls to step in and help us kick out those pesky pests that have set up camp in our culverts."

Intrigued, I sauntered up to the guard stationed there and decided to inquire further.

"Hey, good sir! Mind filling me in on that intriguing notice hanging on the board?"

"Ah, greetings to you too! That notice, my friend, is all about the Empire of Avalon's Capital Defense Headquarters kicking things into gear due to the situation down in the Ponceau du Albion."

"Situation? What kind of situation are we talking about? I'm here to pad my pockets, you see."

"Ah, it seems you've missed out on the grapevine chatter. The Ponceau du Albion, those underground waterways, have been infested with all sorts of unsavory critters. This mess is posing a real risk of contaminating our water supply and compromising the safety of the good Avalonians. So, the higher-ups pulled the trigger and quarantined those culverts via Imperial decree. As you might guess, this has sent the water supply for our city into a bit of a nosedive. It's a real crisis in these dark times, my friend. Our people are parched, yearning for water. But what they crave even more, what they truly thirst for, is a hero! Are you going to twiddle your thumbs while the kids of Avalon suffer, their throats dry as deserts and tears flowing as if from sandpaper eyes? Will you stand by idly while our little ones wither away? Warriors! Avalon is sending out a clarion call to you! Rise up and purge these lands of the vermin infestation in the Culverts! Only you... only you can tip the scales."

"Whoa, hold on a sec. That's heavy stuff. So, there's a full-on pest party in the Ponceau du Albion that needs some serious crashing, huh? And if it's widespread, there's gotta be some pest queen calling the shots. Seems like luck's on my side once more. Vermin-slaying is my specialty."

"Your sign-up is officially on the books now. We're grateful you've taken up the mantle and joined the ranks of those lending a hand to our grand Empire. And here you go – these goodies are yours to aid you in your pest-cleansing quest. Three Red Potions, an Apple, and an Orange Potion, all to fuel your courage. And, when you're done with your noble vermin-hunting endeavor, make sure to snip off their left antenna as proof of your conquest. You can exchange that for some well-earned coins. Now, off you go, straight to the entrance over at Grimdall Square."

"Sure thing," I nodded, scooping up the free supplies.

With a newfound pep in my step, I headed over to the culvert entrance at Grimdall Square, where another guard was keeping watch.

"Ahoy there, you're one of the brave exterminators, ain't ya? This here's the gateway to the Ponceau du Albion. Fancy a journey down the drain?"

"You bet, mate. Any other fearless pest busters down there?"

"None for the moment. Just a coupla days ago, a bunch of chaps ventured in, but they came topside with a sackful of antennas. Swore they were chased off by a monstrous gold cockroach."

"A gold-coated roach, huh? Rings a bell, that does. If I'm on the mark, we might be dealing with something sparkly, a full-blown 24-karat monstrosity of pests."

"Can't say I catch your drift, pal. Anyway, heading in then? I'll have to lock up after. Just a bit of caution, mind ya. I'll be watching the door."

"Absolutely, cheers. See ya in a bit."

With that, I cautiously slipped into the sewer entrance. Descending carefully, I worked up a little fire by striking my flint against the blade of my Jagdkommando dagger. A tiny spark caught, and I carefully nursed it into a flickering torch. By the time I reached the main chamber of the culvert, I was ready to take stock of my surroundings. And what do I find? An army of roaches and their creepy-crawly companions, of course.

As I delved deeper, the roaches seemed to be on a growth spurt, gobbling down the refuse floating about. "Diebwanzes," I muttered, or as you might call 'em, nasty insects. Swiftly unholstering my bow and tugging my quiver open, I let a barrage of arrows fly. Some of the nasty critters took offense and made a beeline towards me – no worries, I countered with a graceful side-step strafe. The bow-and-arrow business? I was getting the hang of it, almost like a mix of a Sniper and a Scout Ranger.

Treading further through the winding tunnels, I stumbled upon a sizable cluster of Female Diebwanzes in a western chamber. Yep, you heard right, Female Diebwanzes. They're the behemoths of the roach world, proper giants with an appetite for all things grotty. These bugs are the size of a merchant's cart, give or take, and their build? Well, it's like a pancake – wide and flat – topped with a not-so-big noggin. Oh, and their name, "Diebwanze," comes from their cheeky habit of swiping treasures from adventurers.

Now, these Female Diebwanzes dwell in a range of nooks and crannies across the world. They're pretty adaptable, but they've got a fondness for cozy spots, like the ones in our very own Aigleterre Culvert, where I'm doing my dance of bug-bashing. As they grow up, these roaches morph – some become ladies, some blokes. The ladies are the big ones, the size of small ponies, and they're the ones capable of dropping thousands of eggs in their lifetime. The gals are mostly mellow, not much in the way of attack, but they sure love swiping stuff – guess the looting gene's strong in 'em.

After what felt like forever, giving these pests a piece of my mind, the air shifted, and an enormous growl hissed through the tunnels. I sensed movement ahead – something colossal and creeping. And then I laid eyes on it, the pièce de résistance of creepy crawlies – the Golden Diebwanze. And there it stood before me, the enigmatic Orblatte, a Diebwanze sporting a shell gilded with pure gold. A spectacle of grandeur among its smaller, scuttling kin. A Diebwanze draped in a radiant, golden glow. It's a sight to behold, but don't let the glimmer fool you – it's still a critter with an itch for mischief. In the depths of Aigleterre's Culvert, when one of the thieving roaches slurps up its share of gold-rich rubbish, something strange happens. Its form transforms, growing larger and its body turning solid gold.

Now, how this enchanting metamorphosis comes to pass is a mystery still perplexing the minds over at Aigleterre's scientific circles. But if you ask me, that might explain the Orblatte's peaceful demeanor – it's just a wee Diebwanze that overindulged in gold leftovers. Legend has it that glimpsing an Orblatte in the flesh foretells good fortune. Though, if you cross paths and take a swipe at it, brace yourself for a golden retaliation – no pun intended. But this time, the colossal bug's out for blood since I've put a number on its offspring. I let fly a couple of arrows, but they glanced off the tough shell. So, I drew my Jagdkommando dagger and lunged, only to have its head nearly knock me silly – a solid gold hit isn't a walk in the park, mind you.

The behemoth bug lunged again, a rampaging battering ram crawling at fifty miles an hour. With a well-timed dodge, I skirted out of its path seconds before it collided with me. Gathering myself, I drew Gramr, and with a swift strike, pierced its back. The creature let out a piercing wail as my blade sank into its hide. Bloody hell, that sword's a handful – I better not mess around with it, lest things get dicey. The bug thrashed wildly, leaping and careening through the culverts, clutching Gramr's hilt. It slammed its head against walls until its strength waned, and it collapsed, twitching in its final moments.

With a triumphant sigh, I sheathed Gramr and fastened a rope around the massive bug's head. Slowly, painstakingly, I hauled the creature up the culvert entrance. The Aigleterre guard's jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the spectacle.

"Holy Odin's beard! What in the realm is that?! Wait a tick, ain't that what I reckon it is!?"

"You've got it, mate. This here, my good fellow, is the Orblatte. The queen of vermin beneath Aigleterre, calling the culverts its lair. Now, to collect my reward, 'cause I'm in dire need of a tankard of ale, and I mean pronto."

"Well, well. You'll want to present that monstrosity to General Sir Montdeville du le Croix, the Mage Baron. He heads the Chivalric Order of Avalon – those hard-nosed berserkers of the Empire. Their base is in Aigleterre Chivalry."

"Gotcha. I'm off then."

"Alright, best of luck and a hearty thanks for your service."

And so, with my prized trophy – that ostentatious bug of presumed gold – in tow, I made my way to the Aigleterre Chivalry. This hub stands as the epicenter of the Chivalric Order of Avalon, the place where aspiring Knights of the realm gather. It's also the go-to spot for those knights to rent or purchase their Zandyagow Steed mounts, and where the call goes out for spearman mercenaries. As I strolled onward, I couldn't help but notice the gazes fixed upon me. Some folks gawked in awe, while others tried their hardest not to retch at the sight. Though the thing might be gold, and I have my doubts, I'd say I'm making an honest wage out of a curious line of work. Upon reaching the chivalry's gate, the guardians halted me.

"Good day, good Sir. I'm Sir Judas Al-Khober, 4th class Knight of the Aigleterre Chivalry. State your identity, your purpose, and pray tell, what's that you're hauling?"

"A good day to you too, Sir. I'm Rasleigh Chasewalker, and I've come to claim my reward – this here's the queen of vermin as proof."

"Hmm, the rumors were right then, the Orblatte does exist. Although I'm rather skeptical about it being made of solid gold. Nevertheless, proceed to the laboratory adjacent to the main building. The royal alchemist, sage, and wizard will examine the specimen. Wait there, our staff will attend to you. General du la Croix will be joining you shortly. I'll have one of the knights relay my message. You there, convey this news to Sir Montdeville. Let him know the Culvert issue's been resolved."

"Understood, Sir Judas."

"Very well. Onward, Sir Laurent van Tilles, 4th class Knight, will guide you to the laboratory."

"Thank you, Sir Judas. If I may...?"

"Carry on."

With purpose, I ambled through the Aigleterre Chivalry's verdant front garden, hauling my curious package. Sir Laurent, a man of few words, accompanied me – though attempts at conversation mostly ended in nods. Eventually, we turned right, making our way to a building nestled next to the chivalry's main structure. This must be the lab the knight mentioned earlier. We doubled back and approached a rear door, where a plump woman swung it open.

"Ah, thanks, Murry Yel. This is Rasleigh Chasewalker, the one who dispatched the Orblatte. Mr. Chasewalker, meet Murry Yel, a Biochemist from the Royal Alchemist Guild of Avalon."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Chasewalker. Do come in," greeted the biochemist.

"Thank you. Where should I put this?"

"Just set it on the examination table, the steel-plated one," directed the knight.

"Exactly. You two, sit tight here. I'm fetching our mages," the biochemist informed.

"No need, we're already here," a voice piped up. Entering through the door were two women – a Professor and a Warlock. The Professor was a curvaceous beauty with raven locks and a fair visage, flaunting a striking 36-24-36. The Warlock, though small, possessed her own allure, sharing the same complexion and measurements as the Professor – suffice to say, she was fetching. Forgive my roving thoughts, but anyhow, they advanced towards the table, analyzing the specimen.

"Hmm, that's solid gold for certain," commented the Professor. "And rather nasty too, just look at those entrails. I was almost convinced this rumored critter was gold through and through. Turns out it's just its exoskeleton," the Warlock added.

"Enough, ladies. Allow me to introduce Rasleigh Chasewalker. He's the one who took down that gilded roach. Rasleigh, meet Lady Margra Zanorius, a Professor hailing from Nordenbergwald in the King's service. And this is Lady Jill MaCayenne, the Warlock of Wolf Forest, Marquis of Loupbosquet from the Viceroyalty of Brythonia. They'll be leading the research and study," Murry Yel introduced.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies. Seems like public service is a calling for the beautiful and fair maidens these days, huh?" A touch of flattery never hurt, right?

The pair shared a playful grin and chuckled at my remark. "Likewise, good sir," responded the Professor. "We extend our gratitude for ridding the capital's subterranean waterways of this vermin. Your heroic feat does not go unnoticed," added the Warlock.

"Don't mention it, I did it for the greater good of the people," well, my personal gain wasn't far from my mind either.

Out of the blue, General Montdeville du le Croix sauntered into the room. He made his way over to me, extending his hand for a firm shake. "Mr. Chasewalker, for the commendable service you've rendered to the Empire, I hereby bestow upon you these Badges of Authority and the Imperial Seal Ring of Avalon. Consider them added perks within the Empire's administrative maze, a token of gratitude. Furthermore, Five Hundred Thousand Drachma will be promptly deposited into your account as bounty for eradicating this pest. However, are you certain you still desire it? After all, your family is quite well-off, and aren't you related to Queen My—"

"General, I'm profoundly grateful for this. Your kind recognition is more than enough, and I'm honored to serve his Majesty," I interjected, effectively hushing the General. He was hinting at my royal lineage, well aware of my background. Haha!

"Very well, then. It's time you made your way. The Aigleterre Inn Keepers are ready to extend their hospitality, including complimentary lodging and discounted meals. Just present your Badges of Authority and the Imperial Seal Ring – sounds simple enough for a Sand Lord like you. Haha!" The General playfully teased.

"Understood, General. Farewell to you and the ladies as well. Goodbye."

With waves and farewells from the girls, I exited the premises and strolled toward the eastern side of the city. It took an hour's journey to reach my favored watering hole – the Drunk Tikbalang Inn – owned by a Puerto Intramuros merchant who had resettled here in Aigleterre. Upon entering, a lively scene greeted me: merry patrons, inebriated souls, and adventurers recounting their daring escapades. I eyed an unoccupied table, though it seemed shunned due to its occupant – a Wizard said to be a harbinger of ill fortune. "May I take a seat?" I inquired. Her attention didn't waver; she remained ensnared in her own world. "I'll take that as a yes," I chuckled, arranging my belongings on the table against the wall – my Artemis Bow, a quiver brimming with silver arrows, Shield of Naga, and my satchel. Concealed beneath my Valkyrian Manteau were Gramr and Jagdkommando. As a plump waitress donning a "Paulette" nametag on her attire passed by, I hailed her. "Hey, bar wench, a moment of your time, please? Yes, you! Would you kindly place an order for me?" With a swift toss, I sent a drachma her way, which she adeptly caught.

"What can I get you, sir?"

"The usual – a serving of wheat bread, stewed meat with veggies, and a slice of cheese."

"And your beverage preference?"

"Water, just some refreshing spring water."

"And what's your choice of poison?"

"Fetch me two mugs of ale, and if possible, secure a spare room."

"Keep in mind that our sole available room is on the third floor, at the far right corner. A night's stay comes to thirty drachmae. Your total bill, including your meal, will be fifty drachmae."

"That's acceptable. Book me for both tonight and tomorrow night, and please apply my discount to the food cost using this." I handed over my payment with the discount and showcased my Badges of Authority and the Avalon imperial seal ring to the bartender.

"Understood, sir. I'll return shortly with your order," the bar wench replied as she maneuvered through the crowded space, navigating past towering figures in the center of the establishment.

"So... Do you frequent this establishment?" I ventured, addressing the woman before me.

"Not really. I'm here to secure a room. My group headed into the Ponceau du Albion a few days back, and this is the nearest inn from grimdall town square."

"Ah, the Orblatte encounter?"

"Yes, those pesky bugs caused quite a stir for us. We barely escaped the clutches of doom when the Orblatte showed up. Fortunately, we evaded its attack with my frost spike and the knight's fire manipulation."

"Got it. By the way, I'm Rasleigh Chasewalker. And you?"

"I'm Yzzabelle du Abeja, but you can call me Yzzy. Oh, are you an Iberian Noble? Actually, never mind. On a different note, are you interested in another venture? I'm orchestrating a new party to put an end to the Orblatte once and for all."

"I'm afraid I've already taken care of that." My admission drew a mixture of surprise and admiration from her, though not before she quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Here's your order, Mr. Chasewalker," Paulette, the bar wench, chimed in as she placed my meal on the table.

"Thanks, Paulette. Here's a tip for your service," I said, slipping her ten drachmae. As she left, I returned my focus to the conversation with the wizard.

"No way, so the rumors were true! I heard whispers on the street that a Tracker emerged from the sewers carrying a golden specimen. Little did I know it was you and the notorious Orblatte. I suppose it's a lost cause for me now," she mused as I savored my dinner and downed a mug of ale.

"Indeed, but you always have the option of pursuing Class A or B bounty quests at nearby guild houses. And remember, tackling creatures like the Orblatte requires both proper gear and training," I advised, polishing off my meal and another gulp of ale.

"You're right, I might as well return to Londinium and further hone my skills. It's probably time for me to delve back into my Sorcerer training."

"That sounds like a plan. Anyway, it's getting late. I'm heading to bed. Nice meeting you, Yzzy. Best of luck in your future pursuits," I said, gathering my belongings.

"Thanks, Rasleigh. Sleep well," she wished me as I ascended the stairs.

As I finally reached the end of the corridor and stepped into my room, I practically dove onto the bed, letting its softness envelop me. I sprawled out, placing my belongings on the floor beside me. The day had taken its toll on me – it had been a long and tiring journey, and I could feel the weight of exhaustion and weariness creeping into my bones.

With a heavy sigh, I allowed myself to succumb to the beckoning call of sleep. The events of the day played like a fading memory in my mind, each moment blurring into the next. The comfort of the bed, the silence of the room, and the gentle embrace of slumber all combined to pull me into its grasp.

My eyelids grew heavy, and I let them close, surrendering to the drowsiness that had been building up. The fatigue seeped into every muscle, and my mind began to drift, detached from the concerns of the outside world. As I settled deeper into the bed, I felt the tension melt away, and the day's activities faded into a distant haze.

With a contented sigh, I welcomed the darkness of sleep, allowing it to wash over me like a soothing wave. My breathing slowed, and the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest matched the cadence of my dreams. The events, the conversations, the challenges – all dissolved into the realm of subconsciousness.

In this tranquil state, I found a sanctuary, a moment of respite from the demands of life. The bed cocooned me in its warmth, and the exhaustion that had weighed me down throughout the day was replaced by a sense of tranquility. As my consciousness faded, I embraced the solace of sleep, knowing that when I woke, a new day would await me, ready to be conquered with renewed energy and determination.