Lineages

Tylan continued to wander through the forest. Eventually, he saw a town in the distance—a small but lively place. It seemed like a good spot to settle down for a bit. He had been traveling for a long time. Maybe a bed wouldn't hurt.

As he approached the front gates, two guards stopped him. The taller of the two looked at him sternly.

"State your name, occupation, and reason for visiting," the guard commanded.

Tylan responded, "My name is Tylan. I'm here to stay at the town inn… I've been traveling for a while and was hoping to find a place to rest."

The shorter guard extended his hand. "Do you have any form of identification? A guild card or a merchant's card?"

Tylan nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small plaque that displayed his name and his status as a licensed adventurer.

"Here." He handed the guild card to the guard. "Can I head into town now?"

The guard nodded. "You may proceed. Enjoy your stay."

Tylan took back his guild card and pocketed it before stepping inside the town. He scanned his surroundings. It was a lively place—small, but full of life. Vendors lined the streets, and men, women, and children bustled about.

He took his time wandering through town, searching for an inn. Eventually, he stopped in front of a building with a plaque that read Ironblood Inn. He stepped inside. The inn was packed.

As he entered, a cheerful clerk greeted him.

"Hello! Welcome to the Ironblood Inn! How can I help you, sir? Were you looking for a room? Some food? Or maybe some entertainment?" The clerk smiled. "I will say, if you were looking for entertainment, most of our performers are currently busy…"

Tylan shook his head. "I'm here for a room, and maybe some food. How much per night?" He reached into his satchel and pulled out a loose bag of coins.

The clerk, eyeing the bag of riches, smiled. He knew he'd make a profit today.

"Hahaha! Of course, dear customer. We have open rooms and food! Come, let me get you set up," the clerk gestured for Tylan to follow him to the reception desk. "A single-bed room will be three coppers a night! I can assure you, we have the best prices in town, so don't worry! We of the Ironblood family are fair!"

Tylan nodded and reached into his coin pouch to retrieve a few coppers—when suddenly, a large figure crashed into the building.

Tylan narrowly dodged, weaving out of the way. The large man was sent flying into the wall, bringing rubble down with him.

As the dust and smoke settled, a faint figure became visible. The clerk began cowering in fear.

"You damn ruffians. You don't even know how to respect your goddamn superiors!"

As the smoke fully cleared, Tylan saw him—a tall man dressed in fine red silk. His red hair and crimson eyes matched the expensive robes draped over him, clothes that no ordinary man could afford.

"Someone, bring me that brute to my office," the man ordered. "Hurry, and I won't ask twice!"

The clerk immediately perked up. "Oh! Yes, young master Alvin!" He straightened his posture and rushed to help other employees lift the unconscious man.

But before he could go, Tylan grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey, wait," Tylan said, stopping him. "Who is that?" He watched as Alvin ascended the stairs to his office.

The clerk looked at Tylan, annoyed.

"Stop distracting me! I'll be punished if I don't finish my job quickly," he snapped. "Go bother someone else, shoo!"

Tylan wasn't going to let him go so easily. He tightened his grip.

"Ow, ow, ow! Alright! Alright! Stop that!" The clerk winced. "I'll answer your damn question!"

Tylan released him. "Thank you. Now, can you tell me who that was?"

The clerk rubbed his shoulder, looking at Tylan in surprise.

"You don't know who that is? Hah… I guess you do look like a country bumpkin." He sighed. "That there is Sir Alvin Ironblood. A wielder of the Hephaestus lineage, the owner of this inn, and the noble who runs this town." The clerk puffed his chest out proudly. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

Tylan stopped him again.

"What's a lineage?"

The clerk stared at him in shock. It was as if Tylan had just asked the dumbest question in the world.

He sighed. "How do you—? Ugh, whatever. How do I explain this to a bumpkin like you…?" He paused, thinking.

"Alright, think of it like this. Lineages are god-given abilities! Powers blessed to men by the gods! These powers allowed for men to manifest fractions of the god's power. These abilities were first granted to Lords, who passed them down through their bloodline. They were given descendants, then the descendants passed it onto the next generation: wielders.The purer the bloodline, the stronger the lineage. And Sir Alvin? He's inherited the lineage of Hephaestus himself. A wielder of the Hephaestus lineage."

The clerk exhaled sharply, catching his breath after his explanation.

"Wait, so—"

Before Tylan could finish, a voice thundered from upstairs.

"HURRY IT UP! DO NOT MAKE ME WAIT ANY LONGER!"

At the sound of the order, the clerk paled and scrambled into action. He and three other employees lifted the unconscious man and hurried him upstairs to the office.

Tylan stood there, hands outstretched, mouth half open, watching as they dragged the body inside.

A moment later, another clerk arrived to assist him, acting as if nothing had happened—like this was all just part of her daily routine.

Nonetheless, Tylan was set up with a room. He took the plaque and key given to him and made his way upstairs.

Entering his room, he set his belongings down and removed his cloak. He lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

He closed his eyes.

Lineages, huh?