In no particular place, at no particular time, an old man toiled in front of a desk. Tanned, leathery skin had wood in one hand, a knife in the other, methodically whittling something into shape. The methodical sound of steel carving through wood paused ever so often, the man blowing excess wood chips away and studying his work. Then he would continue.
The whittling continued throughout the night. Illuminated by the stars and the moons, the man needed nothing else to guide him.
He stopped. He listened.
The softest breeze walked beside his cottage. Further still, winds whipped over a cliff face, down towards a shore where soft waves broke upon white sand.
The old man stood up with a start, knocking his chair back. He left his tools and his project on his desk and stumbled out of his workshop into his living room, then to the front door. He rested his hand on the knob and waited.
He took a deep breath. Through the closed door, he knew some certainties. Ahead of him, a forest. To his right, the mountain. To his left, his lighthouse. And behind him and his cottage, the ocean shore.
“Daddy, daddy!” A young girl’s voice broke his stupor. “I’m home!”
The old man stood a little straighter, opened his eyes a little wider, and forced the contours of his face into a reassuring smile. He opened the door.
“Welcome back, little one,” her father greeted her. She was half his size, with wine-dark hair the seemed black in the moonlight. Her clothes were dirty and threadbare, with dirt clumps and branches stuck to her in odd places. He knelt down to match her height, picking out the branches and brushing away the dirt as he did. “Did you have fun out there?”
“Yeah!” She beamed. “I went to the mountain again! There were some bugs on the way, but I lost my bag and couldn’t bring them back. There was a big bird too! It looked at me funny but I scared it off!”
“Ok, ok,” her father returned her smile and finished dusting her off. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You can tell me how you scared the bird and the rest of your adventurers on the bath.”
“Do I have to?” She faked a yawn. “I’m really tired.”
“Well you’re certainly not going to bed as filthy as you are,” He stood, holding her hand as he led his daughter to the side of the cottage. He had set up a tub there, with a well a little ways away.
The girl hummed to herself as her father drew some water from the well. Once he had a bucket full, he brought it back and set it down next to the girl.
She stuck her finger in and shook her head. “Daddy, it’s too cold.”
“Oh sorry miss, here,” he thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. The water steamed and then boiled.
“Daddy, now it’s too hot,” she giggled.
“Oh is it? My mistake,” he tapped his head, earning another giggle. With another snap of his fingers, the water turned a comfortable warm.
She raised her arms in the air.
“Come on miss, you can undress yourself.”
“I want daddy to do it!”
He rolled his eyes yet acquiesced to the young girl regardless. He bathed her as she talked about her adventure through the forest. Going to the mountains and back again, finding a river and following it for awhile. She wanted to try her hand at fishing but couldn’t find a fishing rod before she got bored and kept going.
“And you know,” she continued as her father dried her. “I also found this weird rock!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah! It had my name on it!”
The old man paused. Just as quickly, he finished drying her. “Really?”
“Really!”
He dressed her in night clothes, keeping his breathing even. Any moment now, she was going to ask a very difficult question.
“Do we have other bags?” she asked. Not the question he was expecting.
“Sure we do,” he said, picking her up. “What kinds are you looking for.”
“I want one where I could put cool bugs in without them fighting.”
“I’ll make you one, don’t worry about it,” he said.
“Ok,” she happily rested her head on his shoulder while he carried her into the cottage.
He lit some candles on the way to her room, illuminating the dark with soft candlelight. He would have to make replacements soon - these were down to almost a quarter of their wick.
Setting her down in a bed that was entirely too big for her, the old man tucked the girl in.
“Daddy, will you tell me a bedtime story?”
“A bedtime story?” He ran his hand through his hair in thought.
“Would you like me to tell you about Ashen again?”
“You always talk about Ashen,” she whined.
“I guess you’re right. What kind of story would you want then?”
“I want one with magic and witches!”
“Magic and witches? Sorry to say miss, but Ashen’s got both of those.”
“What?” Her eyes widened.
“It’s ok, this one’s more about the witch than it is about Ashen,” he chuckled.
“I guess that’s fine…” She tried to hid her disappointment.
“It’ll be good, I promise,” he tapped her on the head and sat down. “Let’s see, let’s see. Where should I start?”
“You should start at the beginning! That’s where all stories start Daddy!”
“A good idea as any,” he cleared his throat and began. “This story doesn’t start in Ashen.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. It starts in an unnamed village. A girl, much like yourself, was traveling alone and found herself in that village.”
“Is she pretty like me?”
“She was very pretty, but not as pretty as you, little miss. She had blonde hair, with brown skin and simple traveler’s clothes. Her eyes were a deep verdant green. And she knew special magic. Special witch magic.”
“Daddy, what’s the difference between normal magic and witch magic?”
“The same difference between all magic - it depends on who is casting it. In this case, our heroine knew witch magic because her mother was a witch.”
“Woah!”
“Yes, and she had sisters as well. They were also witches.”
“A big witch family!”
“Exactly.”
“But then… why is she alone?”
“Why indeed. Before I answer that for you, do you want to give her a name?”
“I can name her?”
“Of course you can.”
“Hmmm,” The girl lay in silence, lost in thought. After some time, she answered, “How about ‘Nettle?’”
“A fine name,” her father nodded. “Nettle starts her story in an unnamed village. She was looking for something or maybe, someone. After asking around the village, she took a break outside of town. She had been traveling for quite some time and wanted to sit under the shade of a tree and feel the wind in her hair. A simple reprieve for what was about to happen. It would be the last she would have for awhile.”
It was afternoon when Nettle woke from her nap. The tree she rested under had it’s branches swaying in the wind, the sun starting to catch her from underneath it’s shade. It has been a couple hard days from traveling from the Southern reaches of Von and her exhaustion had taken her for a spell.
She was disappointed at not finding her mark, but a part of her was also relieved. She didn’t know what she would do if she found what she was looking for.
As Nettle stretched, someone in the branches caught her eye. A young boy, younger than her, was resting on the branches. He watched her, she watched him. Then he jumped out of the tree and ran back towards the village.
Nettle sighed to herself and got up, dusting herself off.
“Where to next?” She asked herself. Just as she was about to pick a direction and go, a sudden unease struck her.
In seconds, the sky turned red and a streak carved itself from the heavens and crashed into the village in front of her. The air burned as the village did and Nettle’s heart dropped to her stomach.
“No, no, no,” she pleaded, breaking out into a run. She had found what she was looking for - only, it found something else first.
Nettle ran into the village, most of it already burning. There wasn’t time to check for survivors, nor was there time to stop the flame. She had to find the source before it was too late.
When she traversed the whole of the village without finding her quarry, Nettle took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It couldn’t have gotten far. She sensed, not with her physical senses, but with her magical ones. She looked for magic and found the source already leaving.
Nettle looked at the village, towards the source, then at the village one more time. Buried under some burning rubble was the boy that was watching her from the tree. She ran for the boy.
With no regard for subtlety, she called for magic and magic answered her. She blasted away fire and rubble. The boy was still alive, but barely. Calling for more magic, she stabilized him, gifting the boy vitality before drawing a protective circle around him.
“Stay safe,” she prayed for him. Then, Nettle felt for the source of the flame. She found it speed towards the setting sun, towards the west. It was growing fainter.
Nettle breathed deep as she ran westward. She needed more speed. She called for more magic. Her steps lifted her off the ground until she wasn’t running anymore. She flew through the air, following a flaming trail. Yet no matter how much magic she called for, the flame only dimmed in her senses.
Her focus broke before her magic did, Nettle tumbling back to the ground as she lost her tracking.
Rolling to a stop, Nettle laid in place as the crackling of flames died to a smolder.
“Too slow again,” She cursed to herself. “I will find you, sister. And I will stop you.”
She pulled herself together and limped out of the smoldering path. She had some cuts and bruises from the landing and some burns where she flew through open flame.
When the sound of crackling flames was distant, she found herself surrounded by trees and foliage. A hand on one of them, Nettle collapsed and breathed deep. Each wound stung and pulsed.
“I’m sorry,” She whispered. The magic within her was tapped. So instead of pulling the magic from within, she pulled it from without. Feeling the life course through her hands from the tree to herself, her wounds healed and her hurts stopped.
Above her, the leaves that were once green and full had turned orange and red. They fell as the branches decayed.
Nettle cursed herself. She was never good at this particular trick, taking more than she should have and unable to take full advantage of the energy she took.
With unearned vigor, Nettle retraced her steps back to the village. She flew pretty far, far enough that she wouldn’t see the charred remains until the morning of the next day.
To a village like this one, they wouldn’t be able to stave off a bandit attack. Monster and beasts would have also been dangerous. To any sort of magic, they wouldn’t have had any chance. Not a single building stood; wood was charred to cinders and even stone foundations were turned to molten rock.
Nettle went to the protective circle. The boy she kept safe within was no longer to be found. Perhaps he managed to find some safety. Perhaps not. Nettle couldn’t dwell on that, instead searching through the village for other survivors.
There were none, of course. She had made that decision early when she chose to chase down the flame as opposed to making sure everyone was ok. Even the boy was just low hanging fruit. Once more, Nettle cursed herself.
In the ruins of the village, she couldn’t help but collapse yet again.
It wasn’t the first time she came across a scene like this. She had hoped that she’d be fast enough to stop it. But in her heart, Nettle knew that it would not be the last either. She needed to be stronger. She needed to be faster. She needed to be more resilient. She needs to be more than what she is.
Nettle gathered the remains of her already shaky resolve.
Once she confirmed there was nothing left, she doubled back to the trail of fire. Even if the flames have gotten cold, this was the only path left to her.
This was Nettle’s life for the next five years. Find a hint of flame, be late to cinders, maybe find one survivor, then move on.
In more ways then one, Nettle has grown. With age comes experience, her skills improving. No longer does she take too much magic from the plants around her. Her flight comes easier, something she can hold almost indefinitely.
In her travels across the land, she mapped out the incidents and the frequency. It starts from the south, but then it would travel north. Repeated incidents would happen in a line, carving a path northwest, northeast, or so on. This was something she knew, something she tried to follow.
Despite her own skills growing, her sister has not been idle either. The incidents were more frequent, happening at opposite sides of land. Sometimes at the same time.
Nettle could only draw one conclusion; her sister is fragmenting portions of her power and sending the flames off. She didn’t know the purpose of the wanton destruction.
Once Nettle figured out these were fragments and not actually her sister, Nettle tried to fight the problem from the source. On the southern most reaches, through perilous mountains, was a castle that her sister called home. One attempt of storming that fortress was met with flames buffeting her for every step. A second attempt was met with a barrier she could not breach.
There was a third attempt, of that Nettle was sure. But she could not remember it aside from waking up burnt and broken. Recovery was hard after that, but recovery did happen. And now, Nettle was sitting atop a ridge, with the castle behind her and the world in front of her. Every so often, another gout of flame would burst from the castle. It coalesced into a ball, then shot into the sky with breaking speed.
Even at Nettle’s fastest, it takes all of her strength to keep pace with the flame. Not a chance she could catch up. And not a chance she would even be ready for a fight if it came down to it. Not to mention she couldn’t be two places at once either.
But if she could be in two places at once…
Nettle can’t fragment herself like her sister does. Learning how would take too long.
She needed help. She needs help. Nettle pulled out her map again. At the very center of it, was a city untouched by flame.
Well, untouched would be the wrong word. She had certainly seen flame approach the city, but they were always quenched before even entering the city properly. They could handle it.
The city of Ashen. A city where the best and brightest arrive and push each other to the greatest heights.
At her mother’s warning, Nettle steered clear of the city.
“They don’t take kindly to our types,” her mother had told her once. When Nettle was curious and asked why, she followed up with, “To be more specific, they don’t take kindly to me. They’ll hate you by association, so do be careful if you plan to visit.”
Nettle jumped off the ridge and flew towards the city. She didn’t know how she was going to get help from there. But that was what she needed.
At first, Nettle was worried that she’d be outed as a Witch right away. She stopped flying more than two days away on foot. She modified her clothes to simple traveler’s garb, with an additional cloak for the hard weather.
What else did a traveler need? A weapon. With magic, she crafted herself a dagger and kept it at her side. With her preparations complete, Nettle started a ritual and sealed most of her magic away. If Ashen was as dangerous as her mother said it was, then they absolutely cannot find that connection.
Nettle traveled on foot towards the city. It was easy to spot, built beside the largest mountain - Mount Alchaic. It wasn’t always a mountain - it used to be a volcano, her mother had told her such, yet no more than that. From hearsay and legends, they say Ashen was built not long after the volcano erupted, burying a previous city underneath. That was the extent of what Nettle knew, but hopefully she didn’t need to know any more than that.
Upon approaching major roads, Nettle saw that there were scores of people who were also walking to Ashen. Travelers, much like her. However, unlike her, they were far more worn. Threadbare clothes. Grimy and tired. Some had exposed burns that they pushed through.
It occurred to Nettle, then, that maybe more people survived the incidents than she thought. That would be a better alternative. She hoped it were the case.
Snaking her way through the crowds of people, Nettle wanted no attention drawn to herself. It became easier as Nettle approached the city - the procession grew more and more as everyone converged to a single point.
Surrounding Ashen were long stretches of farmland. Some plots had multiple people doing manual labor. Other plots had a singular person working magic across it. Nettle saw various types of cattle roaming around, a rancher flying in the sky to keep track of them all.
“Do you think we can get work in the fields?” One of the travelers asked.
“If we’re lucky. I can’t do magic like that.”
“There’s some of them not doing magic though.”
“I hope they can teach me magic,” Another chimed.
“They can’t teach what you don’t have.”
“I do have magic though!”
“Oh yeah? Show me!”
A sparkle of fireworks came through the crowd. With the city proper on the horizon, Nettle felt spirits lift just a little.
Then, there was an unmistakable feeling. Nettle whipped her head back south just in time to see flame streak across the sky.
The crowd held their breaths as fire crossed ahead of them into Ashen. Children began to cry, their parents trying to reassure them everything will be alright.
The flames crashed into an invisible barrier, magic vibrating through the air.
Nettle held her breath. At this point, fire would rapidly spread an coalesce into a new flame, feeding off of itself. But even as fire ripped through the air and the barrier, several dots appeared in the air, fighting the flame and extinguishing the threat.
Within moments, the situation was handled and a hush fell upon the crowd.
“We’ll be safe there,” that affirmation rippled through everyone as someone spoke something that was on everyone’s mind.
Nettle herself found herself smiling with them. It was the first smile after a long time of failure. If Nettle could find herself allies here, maybe that would be enough.
The procession slowed and then split into lines as they approached the gate. A checkpoint to vet everyone coming into the city.
“All refugees, please be ready to answer questions and provide a drop of your blood for our records. If you are magical, please find yourself at the rightmost line for our scan,” someone flew over the rest and began speaking to the crowd and providing instructions.
A murmur went through the crowd.
“Rest assured, this is for the safety of yourself and for Ashen,” they continued, then repeated their instructions up and down the crowd as needed.
Nettle pulled her hood up and moved to the right side of the gate, waiting her turn.
A fight broke out.
“What do you mean my son can’t come in?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but your son is too aether-sick to come within city limits.”
“That’s the whole point! We need your healers to get him better!”
“I understand sir, but we have so many refugees as is. We can’t risk an outbreak at this point.”
“That’s a load of crap, I’m taking my boy in there whether-“
Nettle took her spot in line before things turned ugly. The officer in front of her was armored head to toe in shining, silver metal.
“Ok, ma’am, if you can answer some questions for us we’ll have you on your way, understood?”
“Understood,” Nettle nodded.
“Excellent, first your name please.”
“Nettle.”
“First and last?”
“Just Nettle.”
“Ok Just Nettle,” the officer chuckled a little at their own joke. “What brings you to Ashen?”
“My village burned down, I was hoping I can start a new life here,” Nettle said.
“Refugee like the rest eh?” the officer didn’t say that accusingly. Just routine. “Good enough reason as any. Ok, now you’re on the magic line. Can you show us your proficiency.”
Nettle nodded and raised her hands out. She focused for a moment but then realized; the ritual made it significantly harder to cast magic. She furrowed his brow.
“Excuse me, ma’am, are you sure you belong on the magic line?”
“It’s been a hard couple of days,” Nettle spoke without thinking, trying to buy time and rout some semblance of magic. With a large mark of effort she managed to conjure a brief spark.
“Hm,” the officer studied Nettle. “Well, you’ve got magic in you, that’s for sure. Why not, we’ve accepted less.”
Nettle sighed in relief and nodded.
“Just one more thing,” the officer produced a stone that came to a point, much like a cone. “As you might have heard is that we need a drop of your blood for our records. If you refuse, which is well within your rights, you will not be allowed within the city. We solemnly swear that your blood will not be used for nefarious ritual purposes, blah blah blah. If you are a known criminal, I will arrest you on the spot. Understood?”
Nettle nodded, but there was a sudden thought. Her mother was not in Ashen’s good graces. If this is how they find out Nettle was related to her, it might blow things up before she had a chance to start.
“Please place your finger on this point whenever you’re ready.”
Nettle took a deep breath. Oh well. She placed her finger onto the point of the stone, pressing just light enough to draw a little blood.
The stone lit up and made a thrumming sound. It turned green.
“Welcome to Ashen, Just Nettle,” the officer nodded and gestured her to go past the gate. “Next!”
Nettled nodded at them and walked past the gate, relieved to go through without any issues. She flexed the hand that lost the blood. While glad that it didn’t flag her as a risk, there was a part of her that looked up to the sky where the flame impacted the barrier.
She pushed those thoughts away and focused on the next step. Looking for allies within Ashen.
The real question was where to start. Ashen was one of the biggest cities she had ever seen. All sorts of people and all walks of life. In the end, she settled on the same strategy she has always used. Wandering around and hope for the best.
In this way, she learned the pulse of the city. By her immediate vicinity, the gates and most of the outskirts were refugees and places that supported them. Shelters which were filled to the brim, shops that looked like moneylenders, and other shops with odds and ends.
One set of establishments caught her eye. At regular intervals there was a small clinic or office with a giant sign which read “KINDLING”
“Join the Kindling today!” Criers in front of those signs rang bells and said their spiel. “Be a part of something bigger! No magic or experience required! Pay is good!”
Kindling. Fuel for the flame. Whatever the purpose of ‘Kindling’ was, Nettle didn’t like the name of it.
Nettle didn’t doubt whoever lined up had the same thought she did. All the same, the lines for these places were long. The promise of pay was something that people couldn’t pass up. Especially now, when they had next to nothing. Nettle didn’t fault them for that.
Deeper into the city, she switched into a different district. It looked like this one had more that refugees. Their clothes, though simple, were more complete. It didn’t look like they were about to unravel at any second.
These citizens walked with their head held high, with destinations in their eyes and focus in their steps.
Another district change.
This had to be market district of a sort. Open air markets and food stalls were in the middle of streets, actual restaurants and groceries stores on the edge.
“Two strals for a pastry, three strals for two!”
“Only five strals to take home three chunks of fish! All must go!”
“Excuse me, miss, would you like to try our fruits? Only one stral!”
At the center of this district, there were performers as well. From what Nettle could see, most of them were aided by magic in some way or another. Acrobats flew through the air and warped in between the crowd. Musicians who enhanced their song with multiple instruments or bright lights.
Nettle watched the performers for a spell, but what really caught her attention were the crowds they were performing for. They weren’t particular large or special in any way. What stood out to her was they were able to be in the crowd at all.
They weren’t downcast, beaten upon, or in a hurry. It was a brief moment of levity that could be enjoyed without any worries.
Nettle looked at her hands. When was the last time she could enjoy a brief moment to herself? She couldn’t answer. Even in this moment, she had to move and find a lead. So she moved districts again.
The next district was closest to the mountain. Buildings and offices were built into the side of it, with various paths set up so that access up the mountain was easy.
This seemed to be the business and science district. Finely dressed individuals hurried along, carrying papers under their arms or bags filled with bits and bobs on their back. Nettle caught a lot of attention here, her traveler’s cloak sticking out like a sore thumb. But despite catching glances, no one approached her. They had their own places to be and things to do.
Nettle returned to the previous districts to blend in better. Now that she’s scoped out general locations, she focused on eavesdropping for any scraps of rumors.
A group of armored soldiers were watching one of the performances.
“Did you hear about the attack today?”
“On the southern border, ye?”
“Ye, there was fire again. The barrier took the brunt of it, but some of our Strikers had to take to the field this time.”
“That’s a scary thought.”
“Hey, as long as it’s them out there and not us.”
Their conversation petered out as the performance did. Nettle took that chance to leave them.
While browsing some wares, she found another conversation across a family.
“It looks like Emain in the east is mustering some forces. Their patron might finally try to take us over.”
“Oh the Archmagus will never let that happen.”
“But their patron is also a great mage, aren’t they?”
“Come now, the Archmagus is the greatest mage in Ashen. There’s no chance.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Not what Nettle was looking for.
Throughout the market district, Nettle couldn’t find any decent rumors. Always talking about the attack that just happened or about things irrelevant to Nettle.
She returned to the outskirts. Nettle expected to hear more of the troubles out here. She assumed most of them were displaced because of the flames. But the longer she listened, the more perplexed she became.
“We’re safe from the monsters now.”
“Bandits won’t catch us out here.”
“I’d like to see those damned witches burn my life down this time.”
She thought there would be more. To her, fighting her sister and watching her ravage the land in fire and ash was quite a big deal. To Ashen, it was another part of life.
In the same way they had the luxury to watch a performance unbidden, once inside these walls, they had to luxury to treat her war as something that just happens.
Disheartened, Nettle slipped into a tavern.
She did not sleep that night. Reality set in for her. Nettle was fighting her war all by herself. With no money, no magic, or connections, and no help. She had hoped to find something in Ashen, but after five years running from place to place, she didn’t know how to.
“It’s only been a day,” Nettle said to herself. “We can try again on the morrow.”
The next day, Nettle set out bright and early. Another day meant another chance for information.
The first thing she saw was the line to join the Kindling. Whatever organization the Kindling was, Nettle was wary about her autonomy being taken away from her. Even if it was a perfectly fine organization, she’d be marching to the beat of their drum. But, it could be better than nothing. She’ll place it as her last resort.
While out and about, Nettle decided to change her tactics from eavesdropping to something more direct. She looked for a guard.
“Excuse me, sir,” she called out to one looking over the inside gate.
“Do you need something, ma’am?”
“Do you know where people go when they need help?”
“Us guards is a good a place as any. Where has the crime been committed?”
“More of a mercenary type of help,” Nettle explained.
“Ah, that would be different. Outside of the city?”
Nettle nodded.
“And that makes things a little more complicated.” The guard rubbed his chin. “Your best bet would be the Guild. They’d have the manpower to help you out.”
“The guild? Where can I find that.”
“Well that’s going to be a problem. Two problems actually,” the guard pulled out a map and pointed to the eastern side of the city. “You have three options to get there. Straight north from here and that’ll take you through the Chandlery, our school district. Unfortunately you need to be student or faculty to set foot in there without an alarm.”
“Not the school then.”
“You could, if you became a student. Anyway, the next path straight through the mountain. You’ll reach Uptown that way, but it’s locked down for the best and brightest of us. If you had incredible magic potential, you can swing your way inside, but outside of that you’ll need to become very important. Safe to say it’s overkill if you just need to get the guild.”
“Maybe I am important,” Nettle half-joked, but she also felt for the barrier within herself created by the ritual.
“You might be, but not in the way that matters to the higher-ups.”
“Of course. The last route?”
“The last route, aside from leaving the city going the long way around, is to through the Fissures. Now the gates can get pretty rough, understandably so with the ins and outs. Us guards, we keep things under control. A year or two back, we got a bad quake from the mountain. Split the southeastern side of the city right in two, leaving a gorge that flows with lava.”
Nettle nodded and listened.
“Now, because us fine Ashen folk are so stubborn, there’s still a thriving community that lives around Fissures. Only problem is that they’re quite hardy and lawless around there. There’s not a strong guard presence in that area. The powers that be has declared it so. My guess is that they’re trying to keep all the troublemakers in one place but-“ the guard shrugged.
“Then that’s my best bet,” Nettle said. She turned to go.
“Now hold on there, miss,” the guard stopped her. “Getting there is just the first problem. The second and more tangible problem is going to be your funding.”
“My funding?”
“Yes, your funding. How much stral do you have on you?” The guard asked.
Nettle was hesitant to answer.
“If my guess is right, not much,” The guard continued. “You’ll need to put up a reward if you make a request. Harder requests require higher compensation, after all. The only exception is if you’re putting up a request for a treasure hunt - in those cases, the reward is the treasure, split upon the commissioner and the commissioned as decided by both parties.”
“How much to slay something?”
“Depends on the beast. Magic?”
“Magic,” Nettle confirmed.
“Magical beasts typically go for five figures. Ten thousand to eighty thousand stral, depending on the known danger. Unknown tends to add a zero to it.”
“That’s a mighty sum,” Nettle said.
“Not something I can afford,” The guard agreed.
“While I thank you for your information, how do you know so much about the guild?” Nettle asked.
“Oh, that’s easy. I used to be a member. Good pay, if dangerous work. I’d take if over becoming Kindling over there,” he jutted his chin towards one of the longer lines. “Anyway, I assume you’re taking the path through Fissures?”
“Seems to me like the only path available,” Nettle said.
“Stay careful out there. I can see the iron in your eye, but I’ve also seen some good folk enter the fissures and don’t come out. One more thing, on the way to the Fissures, you might come across the Red Light district. There’s an establishment there called the Leaky Tap. If you’re tapped for cash they do take strays fairly often. The ladies there aren’t hard to look at either, I’m talking curves that-“
“And thank you very much for your help, sir,” Nettle nodded and turned to leave.
“You’re welcome, miss! Don’t be a stranger.”
Nettle was glad that she lucked out with how friendly the guard was.
“Oh, I never asked his name,” Nettle looked back, but she had already crossed districts.
She moved through the market district with purpose, making sure to keep east. It was still early in the morning and despite that, or because of it, the markets were packed with everyone trying to get their shopping done. Nettle did notice that the further east she went and closer to the the fissures, the more the crowds thinned out.
There was a level of unkempt that was different in this area. A lot of these shops were closing up for the day, shirtless men and women putting signs back inside.
Others were just leaning against walls, watching and waiting. Nettle kept a hand on the dagger at her hip. She thought about releasing the ritual for access to her magic.
If there was ever a time to travel through this area, it would be early morning in broad daylight. Any unruly patrons would be all tuckered out from a long night.
Regardless, Nettle kept her eyes and ears open. This would be a good opportunity actually - while her physical senses are keeping track, she summoned what little magic she could to sense around her as well. Make more with less, that was something she learned in the past five years.
She saw an establishment with a sign that read “The Leaky Tap.” It looked a little bigger than the others, slightly more vibrant the rest. Nettle noted the place and it’s location.
Her path through the red light district was without incident.
True to form, the fissures were the most rundown district of Ashen. Buildings were made of scrap and sheets, houses being built upon uneven ground. Most visible was either dead or dying, curled up against the buildings like with naught but skin and bones.
Those who were able to walk around weren’t doing much better. Limping, dirty bandages, and giving Nettle a wide berth.
As much as the Red Light district made Nettle feel unclean, Fissures made Nettle feel danger. They were all eyeing her. What did she have on her? How much could she go for?
Nettle kept her cool and made it to the actual fissure. True to name, the land was split into two halves. From her position, the gap was anywhere between half a mile to a couple miles. She stood on the jagged edge, looking below to find other houses and buildings built into either side of the cliff. Deep below, she saw hints of red - no doubt the molten rock.
She heard footsteps behind her. Nettle turned, a big, heavy man approaching.
“Looking to cross to the other side darling,” His voice was gravely and deep. “‘Fraid this isn’t the spot for that. Though if you still want to, I can get you there. I’d just need a little incentive.”
“Enough,” Nettle whispered to herself. “When in the city of Mages, magic is needed.”
“Speak up, darling, I can’t hear you,” The man took a step forward.
With some effort, Nettle released a little bit of the ritual seal within her. Then, she stepped back into open air.
Using just enough magic unleashed to let her fly, Nettle propelled herself to the other side of the fissure. She landed on her feet, already walking towards her destination.
Onlookers made some note of her, but otherwise went about their business. Proficient magic changes things for a lot of people here. This was something they didn’t want to mess with. The rest of the people in the Fissures left her alone, either out of fear, lack of energy, or just couldn’t be bothered.
In either case, Nettle left the Fissures and entered different district. In some ways, it was similar to the market district. There were open air markets and food stalls, but the establishments were less commercial and more utility.
Blacksmiths abound, magic shops, with an emphasis on combat. The citizens openly carried weapons of all kinds. Swords, axes, bows. Many of them had light armor of leathers and cloths. Others wore metal heavier than the guards. All of them looked ready to throw down.
Nettle wandered for a little bit, taking in the sights. Unlike the rest of the city, this area felt quite warm. She took the chance to rest at one of the crossroads. As large as Ashen was, it took her most of the day to walk from one edge to the other. The sun was already setting to the west, the mountain casting a long shadow on the district.
Mage lights turned on all throughout, a fair distinct sight from the torches burning earlier. Not only that, but a crowd was forming a circle at the center of the crossroads.
“There’s going to be a duel today!”
“Are you sure? Which two sods have ran into each other?”
“Apparently it’s one of the Essaim twins.”
“The guy?”
“Yeah, the guy. Family honor and all that.”
“This should be a good show.”
Nettle listened to the murmurs throughout the crowd and approached the circle to look.
Within the circle, a small woman was shadowboxing the air. On the opposite side of her, two similar looking adults were conversing with each other. The twins Nettle overheard about. They both had platinum hair, lithely built. They each had a sword on their hip, but something about them felt off to Nettle.
No, not off. Just different.
Ah, they had something the rest of these people lacked. Enough magical strength that it leaked off of them like steam. It wasn’t overt or uncontrolled. It was some level of magical potential that couldn’t be ignored.
The platinum-haired woman locked eyes with Nettle for a moment. Was she thinking the same thing Nettle was.
But just as fast, she returned to conversation with her twin.
“Hey meathead!” the small woman pointed at the man. “Enough talk! Put your money where your mouth is!”
The man turned to face her. “You don’t want this, Penny. The names of my ancestors are not yours to disgrace.”
“Your ‘ancestors’ are what put us here,” Penny balled her hands into fists and took up a combat stance. “And I’ll see it that it stops!”
“Really? Over this?” the crowd murmured. “Is she really picking a fight over this?”
“If you’re not gonna come to me,” magic condensed around her limbs and she pounced. She crossed the span in a single step, poised to strike. “I’ll come to you!”
Nettle furrowed her brow. The man made the action of drawing a sword, but he didn’t grab the sword at his side. Instead, a sword appeared in his hand in a flash of light, blocking Penny’s blow.
Penny was not to be denied, kicking off of air and throwing herself behind him.
The man turned and continued blocking her, stepping backwards into to the center of the circle.
“Show her why you’re the adventurer around this parts!”
“Put her down Elmond!”
“Glory to the guild!”
Elmond. Nettle stuck to the name. There was something about that felt familiar.
The magic surrounding Penny condensed further. She kicked it up to a higher gear.
Elmond didn’t flinch, only summoning a second sword. He hadn’t moved from the center and kept his cool.
“Alright, Elmond. Enough playing around. Finish this up so we can go back to the guild,” the twin called out.
“Working on it,” Elmond said back. “Hard to be nonlethal with a sword.”
“And that’ll be your mistake!” Penny moved faster than Nettle could track.
Elmond dropped the swords and a bat appeared in his hands. Swinging for the fences, he clocked Penny in the gut, sending her flying.
The crowd erupted into cheers at the display, a couple chasing after her to make sure Penny was alright.
“Honestly,” the twin waved her hand as the bat disappeared. “Too soft for your own good.”
“If I wasn’t, that would be proving her right,” Elmond said. “You’re the one who’s too soft, Elisabeth. Penny was right. We’re never going to redeem our family at this rate.” He started walking away.
Elisabeth shrugged. As the crowd began to disperse, Nettle was about to move off herself before Elisabeth approached her.
“Hello there, stranger. I assume you’re new here?”
“Oh,” Nettle was taken aback. “Yeah, how did you guess?”
“You’ve got that wide-eyed look of a tourist to you,” Elisabeth said. “Let me guess, you’re looking for the guild?”
Nettle nodded.
Elisabeth smiled and gestured to follow her. “Come on, people usually do.”
Nettle followed her with a spring in her step. A small piece of good news.
Elisabeth lead Nettle further north of the district. She pointed at a building that looked like a church, much bigger than the other buildings.
“See that one there? That’s the guild. Since this is the adventurer’s district that is our primary export. That’s how I guessed that’s what you were looking for.”
“Because people don’t come here unless they are an adventurer or looking for an adventurer,” Nettle said.
“Exactly, so which one are you?”
“Which one?”
“Adventurer or looking?” Elisabeth asked.
“Looking,” Nettle said. “I’ve got a problem I need help with.”
“Well, let’s hope your reward is good,” Elisabeth winked. “The guild’s got more than a couple able members.”
Once they reached the guild building, Nettle could hear the sounds of revelry and drinking from the inside.
Someone was thrown outside but quickly jumped back to their feet and flew back in.
“Don’t mind the mess, they’re just celebrating a won duel,” Elisabeth gestured for Nettle to go first. Nettle obliged her.
Upon crossing the door, the stench hit her before anything else. It smelled like sweat, food, and alcohol. At the very center, tables and stools were thrown over like a makeshift arena. There was fist fight as people cheered and jeered for whoever was fighting. Whenever someone was knocked out, they were pulled out of the ring and someone else took their place.
“Never a dull moment here at the guild!” Elisabeth yelled over the noise. “This way, the quest counter is on the second floor.”
Up the wooden stairs, there were three counters each manned by a receptionist. There were some adventurers that were missing the revelry and looking over the quests available to them.
Elmond was one of those adventurers. He was chatting to a receptionist when he noticed his twin approach.
“Welcome back. I’ve already handed our quest in and got our reward,” Elmond nodded to Nettle. “And who do you have here?”
“Good. This is…” Elisabeth started to introduce Nettle before both of the realized - Nettle never gave her name.
“Nettle,” Nettle introduced herself. “I’m from outside Ashen.”
“As are we,” Elmond gestured to the rest of the guild. “Most of us are.”
“Miss Nettle here is looking to put up a quest,” Elisabeth explained.
“I can handle your quest registration for you,” The receptionist at the far left raised their hand. “Let’s hear the details.”
“Come on Elmond, I did my good deed for the day,” Elisabeth turned to go.
“You go on ahead,” Elmond said. “Maybe this quest will be more interesting we’ve currently got.”
“A little rude, Elmond. My quests are perfectly suitable,” The receptionist said. “And as we’ve gone over before, Elmond, we allow our clients some modicum of confidentiality. You can wait with your sister.”
“No, it’s alright,” Nettle said. “I think I do want you to take this quest anyhow.”
“There you have it,” Elmond smiled and leaned against the counter.
“We’d much prefer to keep the process as clean as possible, but if you’re insisting,” the receptionist sighed. “Ok, what do you have for us.”
“I have a particular quest that needs to be completed,” Nettle started. “But before that, how well do you know about the Witch of Summer?”
“Witch of Summer?” The receptionist frowned. “We’ve seen our fair share of witches, warlocks, and other rogue mages, but that title is unknown to us.”
“Hm,” Nettle thought for a moment. “How about the sudden influx of flames burning the land?”
“We have,” Elmond said.
“Elmond, please. Let us receptionist do our jobs,” the receptionist said. “Anyway, yes. We often have quests to either act as guards in case of that or restore villages.”
“I know the source of it and I need help stopping her,” Nettle said.
The receptionist was quiet for some time. “That is quite the request. I assume the reward is substantial.”
It was Nettle’s turn to be quiet.
“Of course not,” The receptionist sighed. “I’m afraid the guild can’t sponsor this quest. There’s too many unknowns for us and without a reward to offset the possible danger, not many will bite for this.”
“Oh,” Nettle frowned. “How much do you think it needs to be?”
“Because of the uncertainty, it would need to be a very large sum,” the receptionist said. “Forgive me for being forward, but I don’t think you’ll be muster a sum anytime soon.”
Nettle stood there in silence. So many thoughts ran through her head. The most important one was how she was going to get the help she sorely needed.
“But,” the receptionist broke Nettle’s train of thought. “Deals that are done without guild sponsorship are not beholden to that rule.” The receptionist turned to Elmond. “Well, Elmond? Could never resist a chance to play hero, even if it meant for no reward.”
“Of course,” Elmond cheered. “I’ve taken some of those village restoration quests before. If we can stop that, that sounds like a fine reward as is.”
“Really?” Nettle asked. “Are you sure?”
“Elisabeth is not going to like that,” the receptionist said.
“She usually doesn’t. That doesn’t stop her from coming along anyway. Come on Nettle, we can talk specifics with Elisabeth and some dinner,” Elmond hurried down the stairs, not waiting to see if she would follow.
“Too kind by half,” the receptionist shook her head. They turned to Nettle, “I truly don’t know how dangerous your quest will be, but be careful with them both, ok? Elmond and Elisabeth are some of our best. I’d hate to lose them.”
“It won’t come to that,” Nettle said, with a level of confidence that surprised herself.
“See to it that it doesn’t,” the receptionist nodded at her and began to do paperwork.
Nettle made her way down the stairs and back to the revelry. Elmond and Elisabeth already pulled up a table, eating their fill and comparing notes.
“There’s quester,” Elmond waved Nettle over, a turkey leg in one hand and a flagon in the other. “Enjoy yourself tonight, we’ll leave southbound first thing in the morning.”
“Hello again Nettle,” Elisabeth greeted, but Nettle could see that she was in a far sourer mood than before. “I hear that your quest doesn’t have an overt reward.”
“None that I could provide, no,” Nettle shook her head. “I apologize.”
“No need to apologize,” Elisabeth said. “I don’t blame you for taking the help where it is given. Now for my kind-hearted brother, I will be having him apologize.”
“What? I don’t see how being a good person is grounds for-“
“It’s not about being a good person, it’s about not having funds after this is said and done,” Elisabeth growled. “I’m all for good deeds, but I’m not for being poor again.”
“We can make it work, Elisabeth,” Elmond said. “Provide us some details, Nettle. Maybe there’s something good to come of this.”
“Of course,” Nettle nodded. “Let’s start from the target.” She pulled out her map and pointed south within the mountain ranges.
“Is that where the target is? The Spineshattered?”
“Something like that,” Nettle said. “That’s where her Castle is.”
“Her?” Elisabeth raised a brow.
“The Witch of Summer, is that right?” Elmond asked.
“The Witch of Summer,” Nettle confirmed.
“And how do you know all of this?” Elisabeth waved a spoon around. “I hope what you have isn’t hearsay.”
“No, it’s not hearsay. I know this location because I’ve been there,” Nettle explained. “It’s surrounded by a barrier of flame, not to mention it’s the source of the incidents burning down the countryside. I’m not strong enough to do it on my own.”
“And this is your business because…?” Elisabeth beckoned for her to continue.
“Because…?” Nettle wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Listen, I buy that you’ve seen the source, I even buy that you need help. But I can’t figure out the why.”
“Elisabeth!” Elmond chided. “If she needs help, she needs help. What more do we need?”
“No, no, it’s a fair question,” Nettle paused and tried to think of a good reason. She didn’t want them to know the full truth, at least not yet. A half truth then. “Seven years ago my home was one of the first attacked by the Witch. My mother was a mage who tried to stop her.”
Nettle stopped and took a breath.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Elisabeth held Nettle’s hand. “That must’ve been hard for you.”
“Yeah,” Nettle choked up. She wasn’t even sure why. “Yeah.”
“You’ve got my buy-in,” Elisabeth continued. “But the Spineshattered Range is dangerous. It would do us well to be well-prepared.” She looked at Elmond. “Go get some other quests. Even if we’re doing this, we’re not coming back to Ashen empty-handed.”
“But Elisabeth, I heard there was a castle involved. There might be treasure in there,” Elmond complained, but he got up anyway.
“Make sure the rewards are big! Even if the quest is boring!” Elisabeth called after him. Elmond waved her off as he climbed the stairs. “We might take a pretty wide detour, but I hope that’s alright with you.”
“No, that’s fine,” Nettle said. “I’m just glad you agreed. I’ve been at this for a long while.”
“I could imagine.”
“Elisabeth! I’ve got some escort quests and a couple from Emain! We’ll need to head North, then to the eastern shore,” Elmond came running down. “Big payout!”
“There you have it,” Elisabeth got up and grabbed some of the papers out of Elmond’s hand. “Go get some rest, the guild has a couple of guest rooms on the second floor. Say you’re with Elmond and me, they’ll give you one.”
“Elisabeth, Elmond,” Nettle got up and bowed to both of them. “Thank you both.”
“Well,” Elisabeth started, then looked at Elmond. Elmond nodded at her, smiling wide. “The Essaim family used to be heroes. We’ll leave at dawn. Rest up.”
Nettle thanked them again and followed their instructions to an empty room. As she closed the door behind her, something inside her stopped. She wobbled to the bed and fell, all of her strength leaving her.
“Oh,” Nettle thought to herself, her eyes already dropping. “I must’ve been more… tired than I thought…” And for the first time in a long time, she slept in a soft bed, warm and safe.