Chapter 9.1: The City of Millhaven
Year 0004, Month I-III: The Imperium
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Day 33: Witnessing the Grandeur and City Exploration
The previous day had been a revelation for the newly arrived travelers. The city itself stood as a spectacular marvel of architecture and engineering—a testament to human ingenuity that not only integrated seamlessly with the natural mountain landscape but demonstrated remarkable structural integrity. Among August's people, only Sibus possessed the engineering genius to truly comprehend the magnitude of this achievement.
Wandering through every nook and cranny of the massive city, Sibus mentally catalogued each innovation while furiously scribbling notes in his worn leather journals. This unexpected respite had provided him with fresh inspiration for his own designs, and he knew he would need these insights for the inevitable moment when August would call upon his talents to benefit the village they were destined for. Sibus understood his role well within this small band of migrants—refugees who had agreed to work and build new lives in the settlement August had described. From the young leader's detailed accounts, Sibus could already envision the upgrades and improvements the village would require.
Despite his eccentric personality that often clashed with large groups, Sibus had found his place among this particular company. Without even realizing it, he had begun speaking more freely and interacting with others, especially the children. To everyone's surprise, they discovered he possessed a remarkable gift for connecting with the young ones—a talent none had suspected lay beneath his gruff exterior.
In this group, people no longer judged his quirks or grew irritated when he became absorbed in his drawings and self-directed mumblings. They had come to understand how his brilliant mind operated and had witnessed firsthand the extraordinary skill that lay behind his peculiar mannerisms. The two magnificent lead wagons, Adrianne and Amaryllia, stood as monuments to his capabilities, as did the complex structures they had left behind in Gremory—particularly the housing complex and specialized beast lodgings he had designed for the Fernando estate and the outside of the City.
Now August had granted their entire caravan the freedom to explore the city and truly savor their four-day respite. While he and his core team conducted their own reconnaissance of the mountain stronghold, the two administrators of Maya's Traveling Mercantile—Andy Shoor, the capable manager, and Marcus Fernando, the meticulous head accountant—conducted a thorough survey of local market prices. They sought to supplement their stores of frozen goods, spices, beverages, and grain, though their supplies remained more than adequate for their needs.
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Maya's Traveling Mercantile - Supply Usage and Hunting Augmentation Report (By: Andy Shoor and Marcus Fernando)
*A comprehensive analysis of consumption, replenishment, and remaining stock for Maya's Traveling Mercantile over the first 40 days of the 7,000-kilometer journey.*
**Caravan Specifications:**
- Personnel: Approximately 178-183 individuals at its peak
- Transport: 7 Wagons
- Primary Supply Wagons: 2 magically weight-reduced units (60-ton capacity each, currently carrying 45 tons)
- Preservation: All food stores maintained through magical preservation (duration contingent on available mana)
- Travel Pattern: 5 days travel, 4 days rest
- Resupply: Conducted during rest periods in towns and cities
- Hunting Supplement: Fresh meat procurement reduces preserved food consumption during travel days
**Supply Inventory Analysis (Day 40)**
| Item Category | Starting Stock (kg) | Consumed (Days 1-40) | Hunting Offset (kg) | Current Stock | Travel Days Remaining | Rest Days Remaining |
Grain Varieties | 60,000 | 4,132 | — | 55,868 | 377 | 504 |
Vegetables | 10,000 | 1,690 | — | 8,310 | 150 | 128 |
Preserved Fish | 15,000 | 1,212 | 370 | 13,788 | 298 | 373 |
Herbs & Spices | 5,000 | 112 | — | 4,888 | 1,321 | 1,321 |
Premium Liquor | 4,000 | 1,540 | — | 2,460 | 44 | 66 |
**Notable Observations:**
- During hunting operations yield an average of 20 kg fresh meat daily during travel periods, primarily offsetting preserved fish consumption
- Town and city rest periods (8 days total) required minimal use of preserved stores, with the exception of premium liquor for social and diplomatic purposes
- Remaining supplies will be strategically allocated to support the establishment phase in the isolated village of Maya
- **Primary Resupply Need:** Premium liquor stocks require immediate replenishment
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The remainder of the group had been granted complete autonomy for their exploration, with only Team 1 maintaining their customary close formation. A minor complication had arisen regarding their bonded beasts, but Erik and Bren's official registration as licensed beast tamers—a precautionary measure they had completed before departing Gremory—resolved the matter swiftly. With documentation in order, they were free to explore the full extent of Millhaven during their stay.
As evening descended upon the mountain city, the weary travelers returned to their temporary sanctuary—the Louvere de Mont Private Inn. This exclusive establishment, nestled within the inner walls of Millhaven's mountain keep, served as a refined retreat for nobility, diplomatic emissaries, and the occasional enigmatic wanderer. The inn's name carried the weight of both aristocratic lineage and shadowed history: "Louvere or Fort" honored a once-powerful house that had commanded the treacherous northern passes, while "de Mont" forever bound the establishment to the cold, enduring heart of the mountain itself.
Within these ancient stone corridors, which still hummed with echoes of the keep's defensive past, every suite was carved directly into the living rock, providing natural insulation from prying ears and curious eyes. The travelers spent their remaining hours in blissful relaxation, immersing themselves in the natural hot springs that bubbled up from deep within the mountain's heart—a perfect conclusion to their first day of well-earned rest.
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Day 34: The Lord of Millhaven Calls Forth the Travelers
The following morning, after completing their customary intensive training and exercise regimen, an unexpected summons arrived. Earl Hugo III of Millhaven had formally requested the presence of the group's representatives in the grand halls of his mountain stronghold.
With little else occupying their time beyond rest and leisure, August readily accepted the invitation. A dignified middle-aged woman, serving as the head butler of the keep, delivered the formal summons with all due ceremony.
Within the appointed hour, the delegation had assembled and made themselves presentable for the audience. Leading the group were August, the entirety of Team 1, along with Andy, Marcus, Michelle, Sibus and—to everyone's surprise—Master Ben Flameswrath, the wandering wizard who had chosen to accompany them. It seemed the old mage maintained connections even in this remote mountain fastness.
They were ushered into the magnificent great hall, a breathtaking example of architectural mastery that seamlessly incorporated the natural stone of the mountain itself. Following proper protocol, they offered respectful bows and curtsies befitting the lord's exalted position. Earl Hugo III cut an imposing figure—a towering giant of a man standing an impressive eight feet in height, his powerfully built frame bearing the proud scars of countless battles like badges of honor. Beside him sat his wife, elegant despite the harsh mountain setting, and their three children: two sons and a daughter, all bearing the unmistakable bearing of noble breeding.
"We greet the Lord of Millhaven," came the synchronized salutation from August and his assembled retinue.
Initially, the Earl regarded them with the cool indifference befitting his station, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered visitors. But suddenly, recognition sparked in his eyes as they fell upon a familiar face. Without a word, he rose from his throne and descended the stone steps, his massive frame moving with surprising grace as he approached the still-bowing delegation.
"A familiar face graces my halls," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying easily through the vast chamber. "An old friend of this house." He came to a stop before the Wandering Wizard of Molten Flames. "Indeed, your lordship. It is I," Ben replied, maintaining his respectful posture while a warm smile creased his weathered features. "You have grown tremendously since last I visited, following admirably in the footsteps of your grandfather and father."
Years had passed since Ben's last sojourn to these mountain halls, yet it seemed there were still those who remembered the eccentric wandering wizard fondly.
"Master Ben," the Earl's stern demeanor softened noticeably, "it is indeed a pleasure to see you again after all these years. Please, all of you may raise your heads. Your identities become clearer now that Master Ben has chosen to accompany your group."
A collective sigh of relief passed through the delegation. The initial approach of this domineering, towering giant of a man had sent subtle shivers through even the bravest among them. This was no ordinary lord content to rule from cushioned comfort—Earl Hugo III was a pure warrior, bred and tempered for battle, a Category IV Master Warrior whose very presence radiated barely contained power. The slight bestial features marking his impressive frame suggested mixed heritage, likely from his mother's lineage, adding an air of primal danger to his already formidable bearing.
Returning to his seat of power with measured steps, the Earl began his inquiry. "I assume you are not the leader of this caravan, Master Ben?" His keen eyes assessed the group before settling on August. "The aura emanating from this young man suggests otherwise."
"Yes, your Grace. My name is August Finn," the young leader responded with quiet confidence.
Hugo nodded approvingly, clearly recognizing a fellow warrior despite August's youth. His experienced eye noted that August was not alone in possessing martial prowess—several of the other young people displayed the telltale signs of combat training and real experience.
"An intriguing discovery, Master Ben," the Earl mused, his interest clearly piqued. "This lad August carries more than mere surface appearances would suggest. I find myself curious about his combat methodology."
The old wizard chuckled knowingly. "Indeed, your Grace. This young man possesses fascinating abilities, and his equipment—though he has not worn it today—is both exquisite and entirely unique."
The warrior's spirit within Earl Hugo stirred at these words. "Then perhaps a bout between us, young Finn? What do you say?"
Before August could respond, the Earl's eldest son interjected with poorly concealed indignation. "Father! You cannot simply challenge some unknown brat! Such actions could sully our family's honor! For the lord of Millhaven to duel with unknown travelers..."
Tension crackled through the air like lightning as Lord Hugo was openly questioned by his heir, Buford Millhaven. The temperature in the great hall seemed to drop several degrees as the Earl's aura shifted dramatically.
"Are you questioning my judgment, boy?" The words came out as a low growl, and the very stones seemed to tremble. The aura that emanated from Hugo was not one of death or killing intent, but rather pure, overwhelming dominance—the presence of absolute authority that brooked no defiance.
Young Buford visibly shivered, realizing too late that he had grossly overstepped his bounds. "N-no, Father. I only meant that you shouldn't need to personally test this unknown warrior. Your knights are present, as are my brother Hector and myself, to represent your honor in such matters."
The Earl's steely gaze remained fixed upon his son for several long, uncomfortable moments before the oppressive aura gradually receded. A master warrior's displeasure was not something to be challenged lightly, and the lesson was not lost on anyone present.
However, despite his methods, Buford had raised valid points about protocol and propriety. "Very well," Hugo declared after a moment's consideration. "Arm yourself, Buford, since you have so readily volunteered yourself as champion."
A surge of pride and anticipation lit up the young lord's features. "Thank you, Father! Now witness how I shall claim victory in this duel!"
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The Challenge of Steel and Honor
The great hall, designed with such contests in mind, was quickly prepared for combat. Its spacious interior easily accommodated the gathered spectators while providing ample room for the combatants to maneuver. Servants brought forth an array of practice weapons: dulled steel swords, sturdy wooden training blades, and various other implements of war, all designed to minimize the risk of permanent injury while still allowing for a genuine test of skill.
The two combatants retired to their respective corners as Captain Thorne Ironwood of the cavalry division stepped forward to officiate. His authoritative voice rang clearly through the hall as he outlined the formal rules of engagement:
Rule 1: No intentional infliction of serious bodily harm or injury that could render either combatant incapacitated or lifeless.
Rule 2: The use of magic and supernatural aura enhancement is strictly forbidden; only natural, unaugmented strength and skill are permitted.
Rule 3: Both combatants must demonstrate their finest abilities and graciously accept the conclusion of the duel.
Rule 4: Combat shall consist of three rounds of five minutes each, with one-minute rest periods between rounds.
Rule 5: Only the designated referee possesses the authority to declare victory, defeat, or invalidate the contest.
Rule 6: Combatants may yield as acknowledgment of surrender, or victory may be achieved by rendering one's opponent unconscious.
With the rules clearly established, Captain Ironwood positioned himself to oversee the match with the practiced eye of a veteran warrior.
"COMBATANTS, TAKE YOUR POSITIONS! WHEN BOTH ARE PREPARED, RAISE YOUR WEAPONS OF CHOICE!"
August hefted his chosen broadsword—a well-balanced practice blade that felt comfortable in his experienced grip. Across from him, Buford raised his weapon of preference: a formidable war hammer that gleamed dully in the torchlight. The contrast was immediately apparent to the observing nobles and warriors. August possessed advantages in reach and speed, while Buford commanded superior raw power and the devastating potential of his chosen weapon.
Both warriors raised their weapons in acknowledgment of readiness, and Captain Ironwood's voice boomed through the hall: "BEGIN!"
True to his aggressive nature, Buford wasted no time in taking the initiative. Charging forward with his war hammer raised high, he brought the weapon down in a devastating overhead strike that would have crushed bones had it connected with flesh rather than stone. The attack was indeed fast and devastatingly powerful, but its trajectory was painfully predictable to someone with August's combat experience.
With fluid grace that spoke of countless real battles, August simply sidestepped the crushing blow, allowing the war hammer to smash harmlessly into the stone floor where he had stood a heartbeat before. The young lord Buford was no mere pretender—he had indeed reached the threshold of Category III Expert (High-Tier) proficiency, a remarkable achievement for someone of his age. However, against August's hard-won experience, such conventional training proved insufficient.
What followed was a masterclass in defensive combat as August effortlessly evaded, dodged, parried, or blocked each of Buford's increasingly desperate attacks. While the young noble expended tremendous energy in his attempts to land even a single blow, August moved with the economical precision of a seasoned warrior, expending minimal effort to neutralize each threat.
Growing frustrated by his opponent's seeming invincibility, Buford's composure began to crack. "Coward!" he shouted between hammer swings. "Face me properly! Stop running!"
August remained unperturbed by the taunts, neither goaded into recklessness nor intimidated by the display of raw power. Instead, he continued his careful observation of his opponent's patterns, techniques, and—most importantly—weaknesses. His vast advantage in real combat experience created a chasm between them that mere training could not bridge.
The first round concluded with young Buford already gasping for breath, having exhausted much of his stamina in futile attempts to overwhelm his elusive opponent. August, by contrast, remained calm and composed, as fresh as when the match had begun.
During the brief respite, August formulated his strategy for the remaining rounds. Rather than simply dominating his opponent, he would use this opportunity to provide the arrogant young lord with valuable lessons that might improve his future combat effectiveness—assuming Buford possessed the wisdom to recognize and learn from his mistakes.
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Lessons Written in Sweat and Steel
As both combatants returned to the center for the second round, August shifted his approach dramatically. No longer content to remain on the defensive, he launched into an aggressive assault that gave Buford no opportunity to recover or catch his breath. This relentless pressure served to further exhaust the already winded young noble while demonstrating the vast difference in their respective skill levels.
August's offensive was a symphony of controlled violence—a carefully orchestrated combination of feints and genuine attacks, upward slashes flowing seamlessly into precise thrusts, punctuated by unexpected punches and kicks that exploited gaps in his opponent's guard. When Buford attempted to mount his own offensive or create distance, August would simply evade with minimal effort before sweeping the young lord's legs, sending him sprawling to the unforgiving stone floor.
To demonstrate the harsh realities of genuine combat, August did not hesitate to continue his assault even when his opponent was down. What would have been killing blows in a real battle became measured strikes and kicks, each one precisely calculated to illustrate vulnerability while avoiding serious injury. Buford, to his credit, repeatedly struggled to his feet and attempted to match the flurry of precise, accurate attacks, but from the very beginning of the match, he had been hopelessly outclassed.
If the first round had showcased his offensive inadequacy, the second round thoroughly exposed his defensive deficiencies. August maintained this punishing pace until time expired, employing the same methodical approach throughout. To the casual observers watching from the sidelines, it might have appeared that August was merely toying with his opponent—a cruel display of superior skill. However, those with trained eyes could see the deeper purpose behind his actions.
The Countess, watching her son's systematic dismantling, felt her maternal instincts surge with protective concern. But Earl Hugo, with his warrior's understanding, placed a reassuring hand upon her arm. "Do not worry, my dear," he murmured quietly. "The young warrior is not toying with our boy. Rather, he is methodically exposing each of Buford's weaknesses through practical demonstration. Whether our son possesses the wisdom to recognize these lessons—that will determine his growth as both a warrior and future leader of this realm."
The Countess nodded reluctantly, her maternal heart aching even as she recognized the truth in her husband's words. Sometimes the most valuable lessons were also the most painful to receive.
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The Final Test
The third and final round commenced with Buford already pushed far beyond his normal limits of endurance, while August remained as fresh and alert as at the contest's beginning—a stark illustration of the chasm between their respective conditioning and experience.
However, August's approach for this final round underwent another transformation. Rather than immediately pressing his advantage, he began to taunt and challenge Buford, goading him into attacks while carefully observing whether any of the previous rounds' harsh lessons had been absorbed.
The strategy proved partially successful. Instead of his earlier reckless charges, Buford now exercised greater caution. He took precious moments to control his breathing, recover what stamina he could, and assess his opponent more carefully before committing to an attack. August's expression brightened with genuine approval—it seemed some of his brutal instruction had indeed taken root.
Yet despite this marginal improvement, Buford remained riddled with exploitable weaknesses. August's fighting style defied easy categorization or prediction because it followed no established school or family tradition. He possessed no formal master who had taught him classical techniques, no ancient sword forms passed down through generations of noble lineage. Instead, his combat methodology had been forged in the crucible of necessity—hunting dangerous beasts, training with companions who demanded nothing less than his best, and surviving real battles where mistakes meant death.
His approach was pure and unrefined, lacking the elegant flourishes of court fencing or the rigid forms of military drill. To observers familiar with traditional martial disciplines, August appeared to fight like a wild beast—a hunter stalking prey, guided by preternatural instincts and hard-won experience rather than memorized techniques. This made his movements nearly impossible to predict or counter using conventional defensive strategies.
For this final round, August combined every element he had demonstrated previously while adding layers of complexity that showcased his true capabilities. Although his strikes appeared straightforward and brutally direct, they possessed a deceptive sophistication born of absolute mastery over his own body. He could redirect the trajectory of an attack mid-swing, transforming what seemed like a killing blow into a gentle tap that merely indicated where a fatal strike would have landed. His kicks and punches found exposed areas with unerring accuracy, each impact precisely calibrated to cause discomfort and demonstrate vulnerability without inflicting lasting harm.
Buford, despite his exhaustion and accumulated punishment, continued to rise each time he was knocked down. This display of raw determination and refusing-to-yield mentality earned genuine respect from August, even as the systematic demonstration of superior skill continued. The young lord's willpower was truly commendable, even if his technique remained fundamentally flawed.
This pattern continued until the final seconds ticked away, leaving Buford collapsed on the stone floor, gasping desperately for air while fighting off waves of dizziness and nausea. Yet it had indeed been a match worthy of the great hall—even if the outcome had never been in serious doubt.
As the echoes of combat faded, it was August who approached his fallen opponent, extending a hand in a gesture of respect and assistance. "Well fought, young Master Buford," he said with genuine sincerity, his voice carrying no trace of mockery or condescension.
Captain Thorne Ironwood's authoritative voice rang through the hall once more: "THE VICTOR OF THIS DUEL IS AUGUST FINN!" He grasped August's wrist and raised it high in the traditional gesture of triumph, prompting enthusiastic cheers from his companions and appreciative murmurs from the assembled nobles and retainers. Despite the one-sided nature of the contest, it had indeed been a splendid display of martial skill and tactical instruction.
Earl Hugo III rose from his throne, his booming voice carrying easily throughout the great hall. "With this demonstration complete, I formally welcome our distinguished guests to the ancestral banquet hall of House Millhaven! We have witnessed a truly remarkable display of skill and sportsmanship! Now, let the feast commence!"
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An Evening of Challenges and Revelations
The celebration extended well into the evening hours, with the mountain stronghold's great hall transformed into a venue of camaraderie and continued challenges. Various members of Earl Hugo's household and guard issued duels to August and his companions, resulting in a fascinating series of contests with varying outcomes. While August's group achieved several notable victories, they also suffered their share of defeats—each outcome providing valuable insights into their respective strengths and areas requiring improvement.
The recent upgrades gained through their inclusion in August's party system, combined with their own dedicated training efforts, had indeed enhanced their overall capabilities. However, these contests revealed both the extent of their growth and the areas where further development remained necessary. Each duel served as both entertainment and education, strengthening the bonds between the visiting group and their hosts while providing practical experience that would serve them well in future challenges.
As the evening's festivities wound down and the last echoes of steel-on-steel faded from the great hall, the weary but satisfied travelers prepared to return to their comfortable accommodations at the Louvere de Mont. The day had concluded on a decidedly positive note, with new friendships forged and mutual respect established between the mountain lords and their temporary guests.
With this memorable day behind them, only two more days remained of their respite in the magnificent city of Millhaven before they would need to resume their long journey toward their ultimate destination. The brief interlude had already proven invaluable, providing not only physical rest and resupply but also the kind of challenging experiences that would serve them well in the trials yet to come.