Closed-door meeting, County of Larianos

  The 3rd Vulcarian day, year 2025

  “You’re expanding the operations too much, Cassimer. It’s reckless. If my father catches wind of my dealings with you, forget the County – I’ll be disowned. Worse still, if it becomes public, Marquee Raeven will leap at the scandal to claim my father’s seat for dereliction. How do you feel about running your business under House Crystalin instead?” Seren Velmoran Larianos said, an expression of scornful derision.

  The so-called golden son of Larianos was only thirty, but his reputation was already etched into the county’s corridors of power. Handsome, smart and sociable, Seren was the kind of heir nobles rallied behind – especially with the current Count past his fifties and fading in both influence and favor.

  “You didn’t expect us to let opportunities slip by, did you, Lord Seren?”

  Cassimer’s tone was soft and enticing, every bit the gentleman – immaculately dressed, calm, and possessing a strategic mind. Once the Secretary of Larianos, a prestigious role reserved for those trusted with the County’s communications, he had become politically savvy and a master of subtle influence. Capable of spotting opportunities others overlooked, he was not above exploiting his position for personal gain, even bending policies when temptation called. From the shadows, he shaped his fortune, reading between the lines and capitalizing on what others missed.

  “You’re good at spotting opportunities, Cassimer. I’ll give you that,” Seren said with a neutral tone, pausing to sip his sparkling wine. “Maybe you should practice spotting danger as well. Or have you forgotten how you lost your position in the government?” The golden son finished, delivering a jab that, to the experienced ex-secretary, was more than enough to be considered a real threat.

  The short man stood up, visibly irritated by the comment, and adjusted the monocle in his left eye. His long hair, decorated with a golden ribbon at the nape, swung violently as he turned his back to Seren, abandoning all politeness. He was clearly hurt by the remark – a weakness Seren knew how to exploit.

  “If you called me here just to insult me, I’ll take my leave. When you have serious business...” The man’s sentence was abruptly cut off by a knock on the door. The familiar rhythm suggested it was Seren’s informant – an assistant to the Count’s new Secretary, someone willing to do more than a few favors for her future lord.

  “Cassimer, we are not done. Please take a seat.” Seren commanded, though in a polite tone. “Come in,” he said louder, welcoming his informant.

  Cassimer felt aggravated and had all the intent of leaving, however a piece of information was his bread and butter, and this might be an opportunity to grasp something useful. Reluctantly, he accepted the offer but remained standing.

  “Lord Seren, we have just received important news. Here is the report,” a beautiful and well-dressed eighteen-year-old girl said, frowning at Cassimer and blushing all the while when she sensed her masters eyes locked on her.

  Seren took the small piece of parchment and started reading it; soon his face contorted into an ambitious grin. “Thank you, Rafaela. You may go now.”

  “Lord Seren, at your disposal.” She responded blushing harder by his compliment and left the room.

  “Cassimer, my friend, I think we might have the perfect opportunity to trim a little of your over-expansion and make the most of it,” Seren said, provoking Cassimer’s curiosity and patience while flashing his dazzling smile.

  “My Lord, I’m intrigued by the opportunity, truly. But I must be clear – I have no intention of scaling back our operations. People are turning to us for support, and that speaks volumes about the state of the city, doesn’t it? The truth is, our smuggling networks are more active than ever, and our influence with every major family more than justifies the business. Since the Taurecs’ tragedy, many doors have opened. Imports move with fewer... interruptions. And I’m sure you understand – you’re not the only one who’s been collecting his share. Retracting now would be unwise.” Cassimer responded with a stronger threat than usual, the consecutive provocations from the golden heir pushing his every button.

  Seren leaned back in his chair, a condescending smile playing on his lips, just enough to drive the still-standing Cassimer nearly mad. Seren knew the extent of the Renegades Brotherhood’s influence within the government, and Cassimer’s threat felt like little more than a minor ripple in his confidence.

  “You misunderstand, Cassimer,” Seren began, his tone smooth and almost pedagogical. “It’s not about retracting your operations; it’s about understanding why your expansion is reckless. The profits will keep flowing as long as we stay hidden beneath the excessive bureaucracy – staying in the shadows, if you don’t mind the cliché.”

  After a brief pause, Seren took another sip, then insisted that Cassimer sit with a small gesture. Seren predicted he would refuse, and when he did, he followed up with a touché: “Right now, you’re on edge, your pride getting the better of your judgment. Whatever I tell you or offer, you might refuse, even if it’s a very good compromise.”

  He spoke with soothing ease as he watched the frown deepen on Cassimer’s face, until the man forced himself into composure, hearing the subtle mockery in Seren’s voice as he noted the man’s lack of control.

  “We’ve made the better choice, and our profits are proof of it. Even if I might let my emotions show, I haven’t let them decide for me. So try me, and go ahead with whatever you intend to propose in all this roundabout manner,” Cassimer responded, stubborn and defensive.

  The ex-secretary had a sharp mind for strategy. He knew which information to hold or share in order to gain political power, and he knew who to bribe or threaten to influence others. Seren had been educated for such matters, but it didn’t come to him as naturally as it did to Cassimer. The golden heir, however, knew better than anyone how to manipulate the heart, and how flawed Cassimer was in this aspect. Envy, pride, wrath, and most of all, greed – these emotions made it so easy for Seren to move the man to his will.

  Initially, Seren’s plan had been to provoke Cassimer into anger by playing on his pride, leading him to make a significant mistake – one that would let Seren use his authority to force Cassimer to retract what was clearly an over-expansion. Otherwise, soon the Count would catch wind of how corruption had flourished inside the government, with so many crimes being committed.

  Now, however, Seren saw an opportunity to entice his father to see the RBL just as he did. A critical part of the County’s administration, an asset he needed to control and make use of. “On the 1st Vulcarian day of 2025, a dungeon began to emerge just south of the Barony of Ruthy,” the news had said. Neither the County nor any of its five baronies had an active dungeon, and this was the best opportunity in over a century. Since the dungeon was within Barony territory, they would control the rights to the goods extracted from it. But with the right deals, the County could leverage more influence than the Barony itself. And Cassimer was the perfect man to strategize how to make that happen.

  “We need to reduce our exposure to risk, and we should apply your excess personnel to more far-reaching ventures. Most importantly, the stakes have risen to a level where I think we can finally bring the Count into our meetings. What do you say?” Seren pushed the piece of parchment across the table, his voice calm and assured.

  Cassimer was taken aback by Seren’s proposal. He’d tried for months to convince Seren to do exactly this, only to be refused with a firm hand. Now, however, it was Seren who was suggesting it. Cassimer’s he moved toward the parchment, his fingers brushing it. Seren’s hand, however, lingered on the paper.

  “Cassimer,” Seren said, his voice low and controlled, “you will agree to decrease the RBL’s operations inside the County.”

  Cassimer defensive instinct kicked in and his anger flared once again. “So now you think you can just tell me what to do?”

  Seren didn’t flinch. “This information is worth a lot, and you know that time is a crucial factor when seeking opportunities. Are your emotions getting the better of you, or have you lost the capacity to make a good decision?” He defied.

  Cassimer hesitated, Seren’s words rang in his ears, and though he wasn’t sure why, he suddenly found himself reaching for the parchment, agreeing to scale back operations in Larianos. He quickly began tracing out the ideal strategy to involve the Count, using his personnel to force the Barony into a position where the County could claim control over the dungeon and its riches. Seren’s manipulation had worked perfectly.

  Sylvanor Chapel, Village of Engel

  The 15th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  Not all commoners’ classes are viewed equally. Since the distribution of servants among deities is unequal, the rarity and prestige of certain classes also vary. Thalos, the Provider, has the most followers, making his associated classes widespread, while Mentarus, the Sage, has the fewest, resulting in rarer and more esteemed classes. This imbalance affects how classes are perceived in society.

  For instance, both [Harvester] and [Smoker] are commoner’s classes with useful competencies and adept attribute growth. Yet, [Smoker] – a class tied to Vulcarius, the Artificer – is far less widespread and holds greater societal value. Because Vulcarius has fewer followers than deities like Thalos, classes associated with him are fewer and often seen as more prestigious, even when their practical benefits are modest.

  The system of competencies grants natural advantages related to the class, particularly in efficiency and experience gained. A [Priest], for example, benefits from heightened eloquence and persuasion, which explains why Hugo, despite being the youngest present, led an important meeting in Engel. One hour after the battle, Lieutenant James, Reeve Engel, Enchantress Wakina, and Priest Hugo gathered in the chapel of Sylvanor – an informal council that Engel consistently consulted on major decisions.

  James, an experienced man committed to the village’s safety, was an indisputable participant in these meetings. Hugo, on the other hand, was young, competent, and had a promising future ahead. Wakina, who was responsible for the villagers’ health, commanded respect after evolving her [Herbalist] class into [Herbal Enchantress]. Engel was not only a successful farmer with a specialized class, but he was also effectively the head of the village.

  "Eight dead – five farmers, a cook, a stoner, and our only carpenter. And by the looks of it, our blacksmith’s going to lose his working arm,” Engel spat, anger flashing in his eyes as he looked at Lieutenant James. “They thought we’d be caught with our pants down, asleep. The fact we were ready to fight should give us an edge in negotiations, but you had to go and provoke them into attacking.” The reeve barked; his frustration clear.

  “Negotiate what terms, Engel? How many children would be spared from slavery or how many women would be violated?” Lieutenant James replied, anguished, in an equally loud voice.

  “Shhh! Speak quietly and with respect. Even though it’s small, this is still a temple of Sylvanor, and the Lord appreciates silence,” Priest Hugo replied through clenched teeth.

  James and Engel heard the man and turned their backs to each other, trying to calm down. The lieutenant knew that the village reeve had no ill intentions and that, even in his position, he had thought of the men he’d lost as friends, not as mere classes. Like most other villagers, Engel didn’t have much money; his interest wasn’t in keeping his possessions, but in keeping his people safe.

  Engel, besides being honest, had been fortunate to have three daughters. He’d spent everything he had saved in his life paying for the best dowries he could for each of them, ensuring good marriages. His current savings weren’t much more than what an ordinary villager might have, and a handful of auras and a small pouch of liras was all he had left in his wallet.

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  In the middle of summer, with the harvest approaching, it was normal for them not to have much money. The abundance now was only of heat, as the harvest would be sold at the beginning of autumn. The village also couldn’t abandon its planting, or they wouldn’t have anything to sustain them through the harsh winter of the region. Therefore, their only option was to stay and wait for help to arrive in time – or to fight.

  “Besides,” Lieutenant James added, now calmer, “our defense line didn’t intimidate them at all. If it weren’t for Lord Adrian, we’d all be dead by now. The only advantage of the defense line is that we didn’t let them spread chaos, and now we are only mourning honorable deaths, not those of victims of violence.”

  Engel knew the man was right. The truth was, both of them were frustrated, and the discussion had been the emotional release they needed. There was no hard feeling between them.

  “Speaking of the young man... it doesn’t matter what he said to James about knowing nothing of nobility. He is a Freeborn Sovereign; I confirmed it when Wakina was treating his wound. Which, at the same time, explains and complicates the situation,” said Hugo in a serious tone.

  “Not a common noble, but a Sovereign, for Thalos, here in the village,” Engel commented, with deference to the position.

  “I knew those weren’t just uncommon eyes. May Sylvanor protect us,” said the older woman, who was more wary of powerful nobles.

  James remained silent, and Hugo continued, “I don’t know why he’s hiding his noble status, but we should just treat him with due respect and let the Baron deal with him. Is Jias mounted on Gallop, Engel? How long should we wait for a response?” He was referring to the [Stablehand] who had taken the village’s best horse and gone to warn the Barony of Ruthy about the attack at the first blast of Hobers’ horn. Forrest, the scout, was actually faster on his feet, but the young groomer had a talent for riding fast and the experienced sergeant was an important piece on the battlefield.

  “Yes, he did. He’s probably nearly there, if not already. However long the Baron will take to respond, I don’t know, but I hope we’ll have news by daybreak,” Engel replied. “As for Lord Adrian, the fact is that he saved all of us, and I don’t want to do him the disservice of causing trouble. If he wants to remain incognito, then I am in favor. Although, I won’t hide anything from Baron Simon,” Engel added, using the Baron’s first name to indicate his acquaintance with the important man.

  Everyone nodded in agreement before Hugo moved on to the next topic. “I will be performing the wake at sunset. The graveyard will be ready, but we need volunteers to prepare the ceremonial ornaments. Engel, I trust you can find people for that?”

  “Consider it done, but we might need to send another rider to Ruthy since Tommy isn’t making the masks today. For the others, we should be able to use spare tools. Wakina, I hope we aren’t adding anyone wearing black to the list, right?” the reeve replied, referring to how they dressed the dead – family and friends were supposed to wear white for the wake ceremony.

  “I managed to stabilize everyone, though they will need at least a week of rest – Matos, a month; he lost too much blood. Tommy is in the worst condition and might still lose his arm. If we’re lucky and the baron sends a healer, we may be able to save it and help the others recover faster. Otherwise, I’ll probably have to amputate in the morning,” the enchantress explained.

  She wasn’t a specialized healer – her expertise was in herbal pharmacy, and as she became an enchantress, her concoctions carried magical properties that were amplified when she applied her chants directly to the patient.

  “Hugo, if it weren’t for the first aid you provided and the miracle of purification, they’d all be dead. Everyone should know that, so thank you,” she added. James and Engel nodded in appreciation.

  “Think nothing of it. If it weren’t for your medicine, there wouldn’t have been any first aid to provide, so the merit is all yours,” the priest replied humbly, before continuing without wasting a moment: “James, is Forrest handling the mass cremation of the dead bandits?”

  “No, Hober is. We’re reopening the old cesspit and burning them there. It’s closer to the eastern pine woods, and we hope that it will send a message to those who fled – an intimidating and foul-smelling one. Also, Forrest is already on scout duty, but he’ll eventually need rest. We must hope for the baron’s reinforcements. I know Marshal Justin is a good one, but I just can’t understand why they haven’t sent help sooner. Yan is scavenging for supplies and organizing the spoils of battle. I believe we should offer first choice to the young lord,” James said, focused on practical matters.

  “Agreed. Set it all up in the guardhouse – nobody lays a hand on it before he gets here,” the reeve ordered. “Now, about scouts, I figure Baron Simon’s sending some kind of help. Maybe not a whole garrison or fancy mages and healers, but he isn’t going to turn his back on us, not even with his own barony in a mess.”

  Engel vouched for the man who had named him reeve and ordered the founding of this village. He wouldn’t accept distrust towards the man he had served for the past fifteen years.

  “I’ll pay Miriam to cook up a big pot of stew at my place. Folks can drop by in the morning for a good meal – make sure to spread the word so they don’t all come at once. Now, I got to rest these old bones a bit, and I reckon Wakina could use the same,” Engel said, trying to wrap up the meeting.

  That was until an unexpected, tall, blue-eyed man entered the chapel, interrupting them.

  “Lord Adrian, what can we do for you?” asked Priest Hugo.

  The horsewarden, the road from Engel to Ruthy

  The 15th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  Jias was a lanky young man, standing a bit taller than most of the villagers, though his frame was thin, almost too frail for the heavy labor he did. His movements were often deliberate, a little stiff, as if his body didn’t quite align with the world around him. His face was often serious, focused on things only he seemed to see, his eyes bright but distant, as though they were always turned inward. His hands, though long and slender, were roughened from years spent working in the stables, but they moved with a precision that reflected a mind preoccupied with tasks rather than people.

  Jias didn’t have the boisterous energy of a typical young man – his attention was elsewhere, often absorbed by the rhythm of his work, the way horses moved, or the quiet hours spent repairing tack. Despite his somewhat awkward demeanor, there was a quiet passion about him, a dedication to what he cared about that others rarely understood.

  Although he was a [Stablehand], responsible for tending to the many animals – the nanny goats, cows, and the strong oxen that helped the farmers – his passion was horses. Engel, the village, had only two horses and a mare, but they were his best friends.

  Strictly speaking, Jias had no horse – those were expensive to buy and even costlier to maintain. Gallop belonged to Lieutenant James, while Granel was Matos’ horse, pulling the merchant wagon. Raya, an old mare, belonged to Engel; he had acquired her when founding the village, merely to make his trips to the barony easier.

  He spent, nevertheless, every free moment brushing their coats, whispering to them, feeling their steady warmth beneath his fingers. Whenever he had the chance, he rode. The faster, the better. Gallop, his strongest horse, was more than just an animal; he was Jias’ closest companion. Tonight, that bond would be tested.

  At twenty-one, Jias was married to an nineteen-year-old [Farmhand] working the pear orchards around the village. They had twins who had just turned two, and he was relieved his wife hadn’t become pregnant again. ‘Maybe a couple more years before another,’ he often thought.

  He accompanied her to the Guardhouse, where a few families were barricading themselves, and she kissed his forehead before he left. “Be careful,” she murmured. He responded with a tight hug and a quick glance at the sleepy twins.

  Jias mounted his best friend, Gallop, gripping the reins tightly as he raced down the dirt road, cutting through the night like a phantom. The village lay in complete darkness – every house locked tight, not a single lamp flickering behind the windows. Beneath them, the road was uneven, worn by the weight of heavy carts and countless footsteps.

  He couldn’t push Gallop to full speed, risking injury, but he kept a relentless pace. He would reach the barony, thirty-two kilometers away, in under two hours.

  Just as his instincts told him he was getting close, a strange feeling gripped his chest. ‘I am not alone,’ he thought.

  The shadows stretched and twisted from the trees, unnatural in their stillness. The darkness around him seemed to breathe. Heart pounding, he tightened his grip and urged Gallop faster, desperate to escape the wilderness before whatever lurked within it caught up.

  He went fast. Faster than any bandit on foot, but that wasn’t what worried him. As if in sync with his instincts, Gallop grew uneasy, ears flicking back, breath coming harder than it should. Jias didn’t dare look back – afraid that if he did, he might find exactly what he feared. Instead, he trusted the instincts of his companion and fixed his gaze on the road ahead, on the pounding of hooves, and on the rush of wind in his ears.

  As the thick, six-meter-high stone wall loomed in the distance, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. In moments, he reached the massive gate that sealed the Barony from the dangers of the night. It had to remain shut after nightfall – he knew that. But now, standing outside in the pitch-black, with the heavy silence pressing in on him, his pulse pounded with something colder than exhaustion.

  Since the dungeon emergence, a strict curfew had been enforced after nightfall, and the barony lay unnaturally still. Only a lone voice broke the stillness of the air: “'State your business, traveler! The barony is closed for the night!”

  Jias drew a deep breath, forcing his raw voice to carry through the darkness. “Urgent news from Engel! Bandit attack! I need to deliver a message! Urgent, please!”

  A helmeted head appeared above the battlements. “Hold there! I’ll warn the captain.”

  Jias clenched his jaw, gripping Gallop’s reins tightly as the seconds dragged. One minute. Then two. Then five. Why was it taking so long?

  Gallop was shifting beneath him now, nostrils flaring, muscles twitching. The darkness behind them felt… wrong. The silence was no longer just eerie – it was plain oppressive. And then, Jias saw in the distance – shiny red dots.

  Like embers drifting in the wind, they flickered – at least a dozen, and more appearing. Jias’ throat went dry as he tried to make sense of the lanky, ape-like shapes shifting in the shadows. He had never seen a monster before, only heard stories from hunters and warriors who had fought them and later bragged at the tavern.

  “Help! HELP! OPEN THE DOOR!” Jias screamed, his voice cracking with desperation as the mystical creatures closed in.

  His shout shattered the stillness, and as if his cry had triggered something, the creatures sprang into motion, charging toward him with screeching cries – not like any voice, but more like the grating of metal against stone.

  The gate remained shut, so Jias slammed his fists against the wood, pounding and shouting for help. Gallop reared back in panic, hooves lashing at the air, and Jias yanked on the reins, struggling to steady his friend.

  Finally, the door behind him creaked open – but it wasn’t the wide gate. It was only the small side door, meant for single-person entry. Even if Jias dismounted, there was no way Gallop would fit through it.

  “Open the gate!” he pleaded.

  “We can’t! Get inside, fast! Those are Umbral Imps – they’ll kill us!” the guard at the door shouted, his fear evident.

  Jias cast a glance at the monsters, now less than thirty meters away. The man in the doorway hesitated, ready to slam the door shut. Jias had only a second to decide.

  “Here!” He thrust the letter forward. “Engel is under bandit attack – get this to the Baron!”

  The guard snatched the letter and, without another word, slammed the door shut.

  Jias wouldn’t go in. With a firm kick to Gallop’s sides, he let his friend run with the wind. He would never abandon him. He wasn’t that kind of coward.

  They sprinted together, hooves hammering against the dirt. The Umbral Imps gave chase, their clawed fingers raking at the night air. More than once, a long, jagged nail scraped Gallop’s haunches, but the loyal steed raced forward, refusing to falter.

  And so they fled – away from the walls, away from the safety of the barony, and into the darkness. Jias didn’t dare risk leading the monsters back to Engel. And so, all he could do was keep riding in the wilderness.

  An hour later, when Gallop could no longer maintain the pace and the night had settled into a comfortable stillness, Jias finally dared to stop. The whisper of insects broke the silence – a sound that strangely comforted him. The world felt normal again.

  Dismounting, he wrapped his arms around Gallop’s sweat-slicked neck, whispering words of comfort. The horse had saved him as much as he had saved the horse. He walked Gallop slowly, helping him cool down, breathing in relief.

  Then, like a whisper from fate itself, a notification filled his mind.

  Your stewardship has earned Thalos blessing. Class upgraded!

  [Horsewarden]

  A protector of steeds, skilled in pushing horses beyond their natural limits without causing harm. Gains a heightened awareness of the steed's condition and the ability to inspire feats of endurance and bravery.

  +1 Endurance on even levels; +1 Dexterity on odd levels; +1 Perception per level;

  +1 Free Attribute per level; +1 skill point every 3 levels.

  New Competence – Equine Mentorship

  The steed you train will grow to trust you, unlocking potential beyond its normal limits. This bond allows for extraordinary performance under duress.

  Achievement Unlocked!

  Night Rider

  A horseman who thrives in the darkness, capable of navigating treacherous terrain and sensing dangers before they strike. Gains enhanced perception, dexterity, and awareness during nighttime rides.