The more Tis'adel spoke, the more dire the situation became. The combatants on both sides, attackers and defenders, were exhausted; the next assault would likely be the last before a victor was decided.
Prisoners had been taken in previous sieges, and after a bit of "gentle persuasion," it was revealed how both warlords managed to maintain the morale of their mercenaries even after so many failures and casualties.
Gold, promises of gold beyond imagination, something they claimed existed somewhere in this city, hidden by its legendary founder and supposed ancestor.
From my point of view, this was foolishness. There was no proof of the treasure's existence, but ambitious lords and greedy mercenaries don't usually listen to reason.
Even if they win and nothing is found, the plunder of the city and its population would likely serve as consolation prizes.
We couldn't go on the offensive; it would be suicide. Assassinating the warlords was a possibility, but it could easily end in disaster. So preparation was the best option. We would heal the wounded, train the defenders, and assist when the next attack began.
However, there was a small chance of ending everything with minimal bloodshed if we could somehow prove that invading the city for the nonexistent treasure wasn't worthwhile and that the warlords weren't descendants of its founder.
After questioning, the place our expedition wished to investigate and the location of the founder's tomb turned out to be the same.
The largest building in the city, with the white stone dome atop it. It used to be a house of knowledge, but now it was abandoned and in ruins, partially collapsed, its tomes turning to dust. However, nothing proved that it was a resting place full of riches.
This message was passed on to the rest of the expedition, who wasted no time in being escorted to the location and beginning the investigation.
With that done, Ephram, Tis'adel, and I continued our defense planning. It would have been quicker if the mercenary had stopped teasing and flirting with the captain, whose face was becoming increasingly flushed.
-XXXXXX-
"...So, I suppose the source of energy for my healing arts is external."
"If so, then what is this source that prevents the conjurer and the patient from dying?"
Our conversation continued as we left another tent of wounded. I can't deny it, Warfarin had every right to boast about her arts, as they healed wounds almost instantly; however, unlike me, there was a greater weight on her body.
She was covered in sweat and breathing heavily in exhaustion, sitting on a nearby wooden bench and drinking from her canteen. I would have offered her one of my potions, but considering it wasn't an emergency, I preferred to save them for a future occasion.
"I'm not sure. Perhaps it's something taught in my homeland or something I learned during my travels."
I sat down next to her, but I soon realized it was a terrible idea.
CRACK!
The bench was old and small, unable to support someone of my size and weight, giving way as soon as I sat down. This caused the part where Warfarin sat to rise, sliding her down until she hit my arm.
"OUCH!"
"I'm sorry about that."
"It's alright."
After a relieved sigh, she continued drinking while we watched the passersby. We could already hear the whispers and murmurs of admiration and feel the curious eyes staring at us.
"Hm… Do you think it would be possible to discover this energy source? Think of the possibilities, healers could save more lives with it!"
"And casters could take more on the battlefield."
"Unfortunately, there will always be someone messing up things that should help."
I didn't see her face, but the tone of her voice made her disappointment clear. For a moment, I wondered whether I should reveal more about myself or not.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the weaker version of the Clear Bluestone Ring, offering it to Warfarin.
Her eyes widened, becoming glazed, and her mouth almost dropped to the floor. Her pupils alternated between the object I was holding and my face as a hint of red rose in her pale complexion.
"I-I didn't expect this! I-I didn't know you felt this way about me! W-we've known each other for a long time and all that, but I just escaped a marriage, you know, so I'm not interested in another one! I'm sorry about that, don't take it personally, I have nothing against you, you're a nice guy and I believe you'd make any woman happy, but…"
She spoke so fast I could barely understand her words, but when I finally processed what was said, I mentally kicked myself for my lack of tact.
"Warfarin, this isn't a wedding ring."
"N-no?"
It was as if a lightning bolt had struck her. I nodded, and she shuddered for a moment before placing a hand on her chest to calm her racing heart.
"Alden, for the love of whatever God exists out there, don't do this kind of thing without an explanation! My heart is fragile!"
Of course… A fragile heart… Capable of facing mercenaries, but almost stopping due to a misunderstanding.
"Don't worry, I've learned my lesson."
"If so, then tell me why you offered me this ring! Yes, it's beautiful, but why me?"
"The rings I wear aren't just for decoration. Each one is enhanced with Arts, offering different benefits to the users, some even having levels. What I offered you was the initial version of the Clear Blue Stone Ring, which reduces the time needed to cast Arts. If necessary, I can also give you a ring that accelerates your stamina recovery. I can't stop the exhaustion caused by Arts, but at least I can make your life-saving work easier."
She stared at me silently for a few seconds, her posture trembling, her face softening, the anger in her gaze slowly fading.
"Oh, t-thank you… And sorry for my reaction, I accept your gift if it's alright."
I removed the initial version of the Chloranthyl Ring and handed it to Warfarin along with the other. She accepted the accessories hesitantly, examining their details before putting them on, jumping slightly when their enchantments took effect.
"I feel different, more energetic."
"You'll get used to it, and you'll see the effect when you use your arts."
"Again, thank you, the rings are beautiful. They must be important to you."
"They suit you. And most of them are, but I have no problem giving some of my items to those who need more than I do."
"I'll return the favor somehow."
I would say it wasn't necessary, but the intense look she gave me left me no choice.
"Do as you wish."
There were a few moments of peaceful silence before the vampire spoke again, amusement in her voice and curiosity in her eyes. Resting her head on my shoulder, I knew she was planning something.
"So, what other rings do you have in your bag?"
"Enough for every situation. And before you say anything, no, I may have given you some, but I'm not going around handing them out."
"I would never dare ask that. Now about the rings…"
She was like a child eager to learn something new.
"Hm… A ring that makes the wearer stronger the weaker they naturally are. A ring that explodes when it breaks. A ring that damages the enemy who hits you, although it's almost useless, I don't know why a couple of criminals almost killed each other over it. A ring that…"
-XXXXXX-
It was night and I was with the rest of the expedition inside the building that was our objective.
The place was ruined, like everything else in that city, with pillars and shelves of books and scrolls toppled, holes in the walls and ceiling, and dust, birds, rodents, moss, and vegetation inhabiting the place.
By the light of candles, torches, and lanterns, part of the expedition searched the area. I, on the other hand, found myself surrounded by the Liches, who, in their thirst for knowledge, asked me to restore the manuscripts with my arts.
It was the kind of work I appreciated as a scholar. There was a certain joy in my dead heart as I watched the pages grow and the ink return.
I was told the plan was to find something that would prove the lack of something valuable to the mercenaries and warlords, discouraging the coming combat.
I didn't share the optimism, but I saw no harm in trying. The less bloodshed, the better.
After the umpteenth batch of books, the Liches thought I had done enough. Now they would study the tomes for helpful information before I repeated the process the next day.
I bid them farewell and left the House of Knowledge, feeling the cold air touch my skin. Looking around, I spotted the camp set up around the building for our convenience.
Some knights patrolled the area; I waved as I passed, wishing them a good night while the others slept in their respective tents and wagons.
I passed by the destroyed statue in the center of the courtyard, supposedly a faithful replica of the founder. I believe I could repair it with a spell, but I had other objectives at the moment.
I walked through the silent streets, occasionally hearing snores or murmurs coming from the old white stone houses, and as I climbed a stained and cracked marble staircase leading to an elevated section of the city, I surveyed its entire expanse.
I wish I had seen it in its glory days. Right now, the buildings gave me the impression of tombstones in a cemetery, and perhaps this place would become one.
I glimpsed fire and shadows dancing in the streets, patrols ensuring everything was in order, as well as soldiers guarding the walls. Despite the quiet, the tension was palpable. No one knew when the next attack would come. We could only prepare.
If the city survives, perhaps I'll spend a few nights repairing it entirely, but until then, it will be just another ruin, something I knew all too well.
I resumed my walk, pausing for a moment as I saw shadows leaping from rooftop to rooftop—the Banshees. Soon their whistles sounded, performing the final rites and announcing the passing of the dead.
I doubt the population likes being reminded of their plight, but considering the number of deaths, I can't blame the Banshees for doing their job. I only worry that someone might decide to respond violently.
Anyway, I went back to what I was doing, wandering the streets and alleys in search of what I was looking for. I even took Covetous out of my bag, placing it on my left shoulder to enjoy the stroll.
I don't know how much time passed; I heard distant voices and hurried whispers, saw the fire crackling and shadows leaking from the street ahead, and as I turned the corner, I came upon my objective.
A group of horned people, but none of them were Sarkaz. Men, women, and some children, wearing clothes and carrying bags and backpacks in varying states of wear, likely an indication of the time and conditions they had endured in Kazdel.
Most were Caprinae, however, Fortes, people with horns and bull tails, were also present. They were gathered around a campfire, eating a meager amount while conversing with downcast expressions.
I took a step forward, and they noticed my presence, immediately falling silent and staring at me with fear and surprise. Some pulled the children behind them, while others cowered in the shadows, trying to appear as small as possible. Few stood up to confront me, including the infected man from before, reaching for weapons and arts catalysts.
"I believe Leithanian is the best language for us to converse in. So, forgive my abrupt approach; I don't wish to cause you harm, but I was curious to know what people from other nations do in a ruined city in the middle of nowhere."
Words couldn't describe the relief that washed over their faces upon hearing my words.
"Y-you're not a Sarkaz?"
A Forte pointed at me with his cutlass.
"No, I'm a merchant and caster of Sargon who, by fate, finds myself in this nation."
The Caprinae man beside him laughed, wiping the sweat from his brow before lowering his wand.
"By the symphony, I thought it was one of the devils."
I frowned at the insult, but didn't comment, preferring to continue the conversation.
"Like you, I'm a foreigner, but I'm only passing through. Do you mind having my company tonight?"
They stared at each other for a moment, exchanging an unspoken message before answering.
"Alright, but don't try anything funny."
I nodded, following them and sitting near the fire. I refused the offered food; they needed it more than I did. Soon I became the center of attention, with sharp eyes staring at me from all sides as some of the hidden people approached.
"So, sir…"
"Alden."
"Sir Alden, what are you doing in this damned place?"
"First of all, I'd like to know the name of the person I'm speaking to."
"Mats Köhler."
Mats, the Caprinae man, was of medium height, with a lean build and fair skin, with horns that could pass for those of a Sarkaz protruding from his brown hair.
His gray clothes looked like they had seen better days, now dirty and patched, losing their former quality, and now they did little to hide his Oripathy He probably didn't even care anymore about hiding his infection.
"To answer your questions, I'm expanding my business. I'm one of the owners of a shop in the capital and I'm currently on an official mission given by the king."
There was a moment of silence until laughter tore through the night's silence.
"HAHAHA! That was a good one! I didn't know you were a comedian! But seriously, why are you here? Gambling debt? Did your family find out you have a mistress? Or…"
His face became more serious and his gaze intense.
"Or do you work in questionable business? If that's the case, you'd better leave. We already have enough problems."
"Right, you're not obligated to believe me, and no, I'm not a criminal or anything like that, just a merchant and caster looking to expand my business."
"Hump! I'm surprised the devils haven't stolen everything of value you have yet."
The Forte from before, a tall, bald, muscular, and tanned man who identified himself as Demos Sarantiadis, spoke next.
I stifled a sigh, understanding the source of their hatred. They must have grown up learning that the Sarkaz are the source of all problems, the evil in the world, and now they are here, experiencing it all firsthand, and precisely because they hate the Sarkaz, they receive hatred in return.
"And you two, why are you here?"
*I'm infected, if you haven't noticed. My arts diploma was denied, and I was disowned and expelled by my family. I couldn't find work and I'm penniless. I couldn't even sleep in the alleys, because for the lawmen, being infected is a crime; I'm basically dead to everyone. With no other options, I fled Leithanien, almost dying for real, to the desert and Kazdel's mercenary bands. Here, I'm less than the infected because I'm a foreigner; I don't know why I thought things would get better."
Mats laughed sadly, failing to hide the pain on his face, preferring to stare at the fire while hugging his legs and coughing.
"I inherited an unpayable debt from my parents! The wretches had the brilliant idea of leaving the big city and starting a farm! They borrowed from banks and dangerous people until they couldn't anymore! And when their names were worthless, they used mine! I was a child at the time, and apparently that's not against the law! I grew up receiving letters with words and numbers I didn't understand until I was older, the moment my parents chose to disappear and leave me with the debt! Either I paid or I'd have my knees broken, and since I didn't like either option, I ran away here!"
Demos said next, furiously chewing on a stale loaf of bread.
"I fell for a pyramid scheme and lost all my money!"
A Caprinae woman said next.
"I worked for a delivery service, only to be accused of drug trafficking because my boss decided to work with the Syracuse mafia. The Lungmen police uncovered the scheme and dismantled everything. I swore I didn't know what was in the packages, but I had no way to prove it."
A young Forte then said.
"And I killed and dismembered my ex-husband and his lover, but I did a terrible job of hiding the bodies."
A mature Forte woman then said, puffing on a pipe and blowing a cloud of smoke. Silence returned, and everyone stared at her with wide eyes.
"What?"
She shrugged as if nothing had happened, and people slowly moved away from her.
I couldn't help but notice the irony; Kazdel was the land of people who had lost everything, and those from other nations, finding themselves in the same situation, end up here, in the homeland of the people they hate.
The world is cruel and has a sadistic sense of humor, doesn't it?
"Listen, I may be a stranger and I don't have much, but I would like to help in any way I can. I know healing arts and can repair broken objects. Do you have any wounded or anything that needs fixing?"
No one answered; I imagine my words are too good to be true.
"COUGH! To hell with it, I don't have much time anyway! Do your best, doctor!"
Mats stood up with a mixture of coughs and painful laughs. I stood up too, holding my chime and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Why do you have an Originium slug on your shoulder?"
"He's a friend, now stay still."
Casting a miracle, I illuminated the alley with a golden light, making everyone present sigh in admiration, which turned to disbelief upon seeing Mats's condition.
"T-this is impossible! I-it must be a dream! Y-you…"
"No, I didn't cure your Oripathy, I cured your Originium wounds, restored your organs, and healed other internal damage. You are still infected, but the disease is in its early stages. Now, is there anyone else infected here?"
I moved toward the rest of the group, but stopped when the Caprinae grabbed my arm.
"T-thank you! H-how can I repay you?"
"Just make good use of the time I gave you."
He nodded, tears welling in the corners of his eyes, and the rest of the alley erupted in a commotion, people pushing each other to be healed. It took a display of Pyromancy to silence them in fear before the guards arrived.
"Behave yourselves, I'm not going anywhere! I'll take care of the worst cases first!"
Then I began my work, tending to the worst cases of Oripathy and other illnesses. During the process, I heard someone speaking rapidly in a language I didn't understand, and looking towards its source, I glimpsed a couple, the parents of an infected boy I was healing.
I only managed to understand one thing in their speech, two words: The Law.
END OF CHAPTER