Chapter 4
The morning after the festival, an empty feeling floated on the air. With few pedestrians out and about, it was even quieter than usual.
Woodchuck walked unsteadily through the city, avoiding the major streets. Not knowing their customs, he’d just run afoul of the local thieves.
He was wearing a light brown shirt and pants of the same color underneath a worn set of leather armor. He also wore black leather boots. The soles were made of thin leather, making them ideal for sneaking about. They also had good traction.
These clothes and armor, plus the short sword hanging from his waist, four daggers and a few coins in his pouch were all he had to his name.
“The Guild is too damn harsh,” grumbled Woodchuck while gazing at the city of Alan for the first time in a long while. He wasn’t returning from a journey, though. He’d lived in Alan for more than twenty long years. But the only thing he’d been able to see from the dungeon of Stone Web was the bars of the neighboring cell and the timeworn face of its elderly occupant. But Woodchuck, too, was no longer young.
All that, just for one little theft. Thinking of that rekindled his anger. Twenty-two years earlier, he had broken into a rich man’s mansion, but slipped up and gotten caught. Woodchuck had had a trial at the royal palace, but in those days the king of Alania, Cadmus VII, was still young. He’d taken one glance at Wood’s face and sentenced him to thirty years in the dungeon without listening to his pleas. Due to that sentence, Woodchuck had spent what ought to have been the best years of his life rotting in jail.
Even after being pardoned and leaving early, Woodchuck’s resentment lingered. Listening to revelers toast to the new prince and the future of the kingdom during the festival had made Wood want to throw up. Instead, he made himself feel better by relieving them of the contents of their purses.
He’d succeeded, but he realized his skills were not what they used to be. Not only had he gotten out of practice between the gray walls of the dungeon, but the passing years had also stolen the reflexes of youth from him.
He had reluctantly set out for the thieves’ Guild, asking about officer jobs. But in twenty-two years the head of the Guild had changed, and he told Wood that the new price was 10,000 gold pieces. Woodchuck bitterly reflected that if he had stayed out of prison this whole time, he probably would have become an officer, perhaps the head of a local division.
Wood was angry, but realizing that it was not worth starting a fight with the Guild, he had laughed weakly and left.
Perhaps out of pity, the Guild leader had given him a single piece of valuable information. Unfortunately, it would be hard to do the job on his own.
I need a partner. Not another thief, but a tough fighter. Wood had made up his mind. He saw no other way to move up in the world. But first things first - I need food.
Wood entered an inn in search of breakfast. On the sign, it said ‘Crystal Forest’.
Due to the lingering effects of the previous night’s bender, Parn didn’t feel like eating. He’d managed to swallow only a small piece of bread and a little water. With a little fruit juice mixed in, the slightly sweet water seemed to settle his stomach.
Eto was meditating next to Parn, deep in his morning prayers. Left to his own devices, he might have kept on meditating forever.
Ghim was the only one who had yet to finish his meal. He was on his second loaf of corn bread and his third tankard of ale.
Deedlit was doing her level best not to watch Ghim eat. She had eaten some fruit and drunk some cider and was looking at Parn’s miserable face with a bored expression.
While sipping a cup of milk, Slayn thought back on the previous night’s conversation with the elf girl. She had claimed to have left the elven woods out of boredom with the monotonous life she had lead there. He’d found her deep frustration with the elves’ lack of action against their people’s slow decline a curious viewpoint for an elf. The very almost-heretical views that had set her apart from her fellow elves probably suited her to life among humans. Embarassed by her outburst, Deedlit had immediately turned to the innkeeper to reserve a room and headed up to the second floor to sleep.
As Slayn was pondering her tale, the front door swung open with a clank. Slayn glanced in the direction of the door, and his expression changed completely when he saw the person who had entered. The man was dressed like a thief. If he was a thief he must be a member of the thieves’ Guild. His pulse pounding, Slayn watched the newcomer, not taking his eyes off him until he sat down at the counter.
“Give me something light,” said the man sitting at the counter, his voice carrying across the room.
With that, the tension broke. Slayn bent over his old texts once more, and Parn rubbed at his aching head, ruffling his hair.
“You’re a mess,” laughed Deedlit.
“That’s right. Slayn, how was it at the Academy? Was it worth missing the festival?” Having at last filled his stomach, Ghim turned to Slayn while making a pile of the empty plates.
“The Academy was in a pitiful state.” With a sad face, Slayn lifted his eyes from his book. Closing his book, he put both elbows on the table and folded his hands before beginning to talk.
Entering the Academy of Sages, Slayn had realized that it was no longer in use. The grounds were in such disrepair that they were no longer fit for human habitation, though one person, Master Jagul, was still living in the building, watching over the place.
Master Jagul had told Slayn why the Academy had fallen to ruin. It was because of the death of the Academy’s headmaster, Ralkas, who had been known as the greatest modern mage, and due to the disaster caused by a mage known as Wagnard three years earlier.
Slayn knew Wagnard by reputation. When he had enrolled in the Academy, he was a talented student who got top marks and achieved the rank of mage at an early age. But he had wanted to push his talents to their absolute limits. That ambition had pushed him to soil his hands with dark magics, drawing on the power of demons. That was against the Academy’s strict rules. According to the Academy, magic was meant to be used for good causes, and so the study of evil magic was harshly punished.
Learning of Wagnard’s forbidden studies, Ralkas had visited a severe punishment upon him. Ralkas had laid a strong magical taboo on him and expelled him from the Academy. If Wagnard ever used magic again, Ralkas’ taboo would send waves of crushing agony throughout his body.
But a genius such as Wagnard was able to resist even the pain of the taboo. Though waves of pain coursed through his body, Wagnard was able to focus his mind and chant a single spell. He drew strength from his drive for revenge against Ralkas and the rest of the Academy. He used his magic to earn large sums of money in Kanon before leaving for Marmo. Once there, he joined forces with Beld, one of the Six Heroes of Lodoss, who had just finished conquering Marmo, declaring himself the Dark Emperor. Wagnard became Beld’s court magician. In the end, Wagnard’s revenge did not come during Ralkas’ lifetime. However, as Ralkas drew his last breath, Wagnard’s evil schemes slowly closed in on the Academy. There were more and more cases of murders of young Academy students throughout Alan. The Academy took any number of measures to halt this massacre, but without success.
As if to add insult to injury, monks who officiated ceremonies at the Academy were murdered as well, and the library was ransacked. Priceless books and ancient relics were stolen, while one-of-a-kind artifacts were burned to cinders.
This proud, historic Academy had lost its raison d’être. The surviving monks and mages left one by one, disappearing to the four corners of Lodoss. And so the oldest of the monks, Master Jagul, had become the only remaining resident of the Academy.
“What an awful story.” Eto said, his white-knuckled fists showing his anger.
“It is an awful story.” Slayn separated his hands and laid them in his lap. “I may only have survived because I was lucky enough to be away from Alan at the time. As a result, Wagnard didn’t target me.”
“Didn’t the king do something about the incidents?” Eto asked Slayn.
“What do you think a king could do against such ancient powers? Even hundreds of soldiers would surely have been unable to prevent the Academy’s destruction. That’s the horror of Wagnard’s power.”
“Are you in any danger now?” asked Deedlit in a weak voice.
“I should be fine,” said Slayn with certainty. “Wagnard doubtless considers his vengeance complete. Though it is possible he may plot further destruction. The Dark Emperor would be at the root of any new plan, and he may even have set the wheels in motion already.”
Slayn said it lightly, but upon seizing the meaning of his words, Parn choked with the gravity of it.
“I can’t forgive that Wagnard guy,” said Parn suddenly. As everyone stared at him in surprise, Parn stood, kicking his chair away, and raised his fist.
“I can’t forgive him. If it was clear what Wagnard was up to, why didn’t the mages fight back? Just running when they have so much power, that’s the depths of cowardice.”
“Mages aren’t like you,” said Slayn by way of calming Parn down. “Magic is completely different from the sword of a warrior. Yes, it can be used to kill, but mages don’t study magic in order to learn how to fight.”
“Then what about Wort? The Great Sage of Moss went down into the Deep Labyrinth to fight against the demon, didn’t he?”
Parn was referring to one of the Six Heroes of Lodoss who were spoken of in legends. Wort was the mage of the six heroes who had survived the fight with the demon. Slayn silently gazed at Parn’s angry face.
“Why didn’t the mages fight back. It’s a mystery to me.” Parn continued. “If it was me…”
“If it was me, I’d stand up and knock down that Wagnard, right?” The voice came from behind Parn. Startled, Parn turned. His right hand reached for the hilt of his sword, and he settled into a fighting stance.
“Who’re you?!?” yelled Parn.
“Oh, sorry I surprised you.” The man leapt back, waving his hands in the air in front of him. It was the thief who should have been sitting at the counter. Somehow he’d snuck up behind Parn without anyone noticing.
Woodchuck had only listened to Parn out of habit. Thieves listened to everyone’s talk, trying to get a cut of any scam. Even if there was no profit to be made directly, there might be value in any gossip. In any case, it wasn’t as though he’d had to work at eavesdropping on Parn - his voice was so loud it was hard not to hear.
“It’s just, listening to you, I thought that maybe you were the kind of hero who could beat Wagnard. If that’s the case, I know a place where your anger could find its mark.”
A polite smile plastered across his face, Wood looked Parn up and down. The surprise disappeared from Parn’s face, replaced by an intrigued expression.
“It’s risky, listening to thieves’ tales.” Slayn’s voice was unusually sharp.
“I would think you too would welcome my news, ô mage of the Academy.” Knowing that this was the moment of truth, Woodchuck turned to face Slayn without letting his insincere smile slip for one instant. “Rumor has it that the treasures stolen from your Academy are hidden there. If that’s true, might it not be possible to pick up the pieces and reopen the Academy? You could occupy an important post there, once it’s restored.”
Though he’d advised Parn not to listen, even Slayn was starting to be interested in the thief’s information. He knew it was impossible to rebuild the Academy, but returning the lost books and relics might be of some use. Master Jagul would surely welcome them. If, that is, the thief’s story was true.
“Ô holy ear that knows truth,” Slayn chanted words in the ancient tongue under his breath. He felt the magic enter his body and slowly concentrate itself in his ears. The spell had worked. Even if the thief lied, Slayn would recognize his lies for what they were.
“Why don’t you tell us all the details,” Slayn turned to Woodchuck again. He pointed to an empty chair, inviting Wood to sit.
“Well, it seems you’ve finally decided to listen,” said Wood, sitting in the chair with a big grin. Looks like my luck hasn’t run out after all.
“Talk is fine. But please don’t just listen and take your leave. I want more from this than just a chat.” The elf and dwarf shared a meaningful glance, Woodchuck noticed. Elves and dwarves are always fighting, but they make a good team.
“Is that the price for your information?” asked Parn, puffing himself up. “My sword only fights in a just cause.”
“Of course, my young swordsman friend. I will guarantee that nothing I propose will sully your reputation.”
He’s not lying. The words came clearly to Slayn’s ears. Though he was lying about Parn’s reputation.
Feeling that he was safe around such a man, Woodchuck made up his mind to tell them the whole story. It’s not like I have any other way to make money.
Chapter 4
The morning after the festival, an empty feeling floated on the air. With few pedestrians out and about, it was even quieter than usual.
Woodchuck walked unsteadily through the city, avoiding the major streets. Not knowing their customs, he’d just run afoul of the local thieves.
He was wearing a light brown shirt and pants of the same color underneath a worn set of leather armor. He also wore black leather boots. The soles were made of thin leather, making them ideal for sneaking about. They also had good traction.
These clothes and armor, plus the short sword hanging from his waist, four daggers and a few coins in his pouch were all he had to his name.
“The Guild is too damn harsh,” grumbled Woodchuck while gazing at the city of Alan for the first time in a long while. He wasn’t returning from a journey, though. He’d lived in Alan for more than twenty long years. But the only thing he’d been able to see from the dungeon of Stone Web was the bars of the neighboring cell and the timeworn face of its elderly occupant. But Woodchuck, too, was no longer young.
All that, just for one little theft. Thinking of that rekindled his anger. Twenty-two years earlier, he had broken into a rich man’s mansion, but slipped up and gotten caught. Woodchuck had had a trial at the royal palace, but in those days the king of Alania, Cadmus VII, was still young. He’d taken one glance at Wood’s face and sentenced him to thirty years in the dungeon without listening to his pleas. Due to that sentence, Woodchuck had spent what ought to have been the best years of his life rotting in jail.
Even after being pardoned and leaving early, Woodchuck’s resentment lingered. Listening to revelers toast to the new prince and the future of the kingdom during the festival had made Wood want to throw up. Instead, he made himself feel better by relieving them of the contents of their purses.
He’d succeeded, but he realized his skills were not what they used to be. Not only had he gotten out of practice between the gray walls of the dungeon, but the passing years had also stolen the reflexes of youth from him.
He had reluctantly set out for the thieves’ Guild, asking about officer jobs. But in twenty-two years the head of the Guild had changed, and he told Wood that the new price was 10,000 gold pieces. Woodchuck bitterly reflected that if he had stayed out of prison this whole time, he probably would have become an officer, perhaps the head of a local division.
Wood was angry, but realizing that it was not worth starting a fight with the Guild, he had laughed weakly and left.
Perhaps out of pity, the Guild leader had given him a single piece of valuable information. Unfortunately, it would be hard to do the job on his own.
I need a partner. Not another thief, but a tough fighter. Wood had made up his mind. He saw no other way to move up in the world. But first things first - I need food.
Wood entered an inn in search of breakfast. On the sign, it said ‘Crystal Forest’.
Due to the lingering effects of the previous night’s bender, Parn didn’t feel like eating. He’d managed to swallow only a small piece of bread and a little water. With a little fruit juice mixed in, the slightly sweet water seemed to settle his stomach.
Eto was meditating next to Parn, deep in his morning prayers. Left to his own devices, he might have kept on meditating forever.
Ghim was the only one who had yet to finish his meal. He was on his second loaf of corn bread and his third tankard of ale.
Deedlit was doing her level best not to watch Ghim eat. She had eaten some fruit and drunk some cider and was looking at Parn’s miserable face with a bored expression.
While sipping a cup of milk, Slayn thought back on the previous night’s conversation with the elf girl. She had claimed to have left the elven woods out of boredom with the monotonous life she had lead there. He’d found her deep frustration with the elves’ lack of action against their people’s slow decline a curious viewpoint for an elf. The very almost-heretical views that had set her apart from her fellow elves probably suited her to life among humans. Embarassed by her outburst, Deedlit had immediately turned to the innkeeper to reserve a room and headed up to the second floor to sleep.
As Slayn was pondering her tale, the front door swung open with a clank. Slayn glanced in the direction of the door, and his expression changed completely when he saw the person who had entered. The man was dressed like a thief. If he was a thief he must be a member of the thieves’ Guild. His pulse pounding, Slayn watched the newcomer, not taking his eyes off him until he sat down at the counter.
“Give me something light,” said the man sitting at the counter, his voice carrying across the room.
With that, the tension broke. Slayn bent over his old texts once more, and Parn rubbed at his aching head, ruffling his hair.
“You’re a mess,” laughed Deedlit.
“That’s right. Slayn, how was it at the Academy? Was it worth missing the festival?” Having at last filled his stomach, Ghim turned to Slayn while making a pile of the empty plates.
“The Academy was in a pitiful state.” With a sad face, Slayn lifted his eyes from his book. Closing his book, he put both elbows on the table and folded his hands before beginning to talk.
Entering the Academy of Sages, Slayn had realized that it was no longer in use. The grounds were in such disrepair that they were no longer fit for human habitation, though one person, Master Jagul, was still living in the building, watching over the place.
Master Jagul had told Slayn why the Academy had fallen to ruin. It was because of the death of the Academy’s headmaster, Ralkas, who had been known as the greatest modern mage, and due to the disaster caused by a mage known as Wagnard three years earlier.
Slayn knew Wagnard by reputation. When he had enrolled in the Academy, he was a talented student who got top marks and achieved the rank of mage at an early age. But he had wanted to push his talents to their absolute limits. That ambition had pushed him to soil his hands with dark magics, drawing on the power of demons. That was against the Academy’s strict rules. According to the Academy, magic was meant to be used for good causes, and so the study of evil magic was harshly punished.
Learning of Wagnard’s forbidden studies, Ralkas had visited a severe punishment upon him. Ralkas had laid a strong magical taboo on him and expelled him from the Academy. If Wagnard ever used magic again, Ralkas’ taboo would send waves of crushing agony throughout his body.
But a genius such as Wagnard was able to resist even the pain of the taboo. Though waves of pain coursed through his body, Wagnard was able to focus his mind and chant a single spell. He drew strength from his drive for revenge against Ralkas and the rest of the Academy. He used his magic to earn large sums of money in Kanon before leaving for Marmo. Once there, he joined forces with Beld, one of the Six Heroes of Lodoss, who had just finished conquering Marmo, declaring himself the Dark Emperor. Wagnard became Beld’s court magician. In the end, Wagnard’s revenge did not come during Ralkas’ lifetime. However, as Ralkas drew his last breath, Wagnard’s evil schemes slowly closed in on the Academy. There were more and more cases of murders of young Academy students throughout Alan. The Academy took any number of measures to halt this massacre, but without success.
As if to add insult to injury, monks who officiated ceremonies at the Academy were murdered as well, and the library was ransacked. Priceless books and ancient relics were stolen, while one-of-a-kind artifacts were burned to cinders.
This proud, historic Academy had lost its raison d’être. The surviving monks and mages left one by one, disappearing to the four corners of Lodoss. And so the oldest of the monks, Master Jagul, had become the only remaining resident of the Academy.
“What an awful story.” Eto said, his white-knuckled fists showing his anger.
“It is an awful story.” Slayn separated his hands and laid them in his lap. “I may only have survived because I was lucky enough to be away from Alan at the time. As a result, Wagnard didn’t target me.”
“Didn’t the king do something about the incidents?” Eto asked Slayn.
“What do you think a king could do against such ancient powers? Even hundreds of soldiers would surely have been unable to prevent the Academy’s destruction. That’s the horror of Wagnard’s power.”
“Are you in any danger now?” asked Deedlit in a weak voice.
“I should be fine,” said Slayn with certainty. “Wagnard doubtless considers his vengeance complete. Though it is possible he may plot further destruction. The Dark Emperor would be at the root of any new plan, and he may even have set the wheels in motion already.”
Slayn said it lightly, but upon seizing the meaning of his words, Parn choked with the gravity of it.
“I can’t forgive that Wagnard guy,” said Parn suddenly. As everyone stared at him in surprise, Parn stood, kicking his chair away, and raised his fist.
“I can’t forgive him. If it was clear what Wagnard was up to, why didn’t the mages fight back? Just running when they have so much power, that’s the depths of cowardice.”
“Mages aren’t like you,” said Slayn by way of calming Parn down. “Magic is completely different from the sword of a warrior. Yes, it can be used to kill, but mages don’t study magic in order to learn how to fight.”
“Then what about Wort? The Great Sage of Moss went down into the Deep Labyrinth to fight against the demon, didn’t he?”
Parn was referring to one of the Six Heroes of Lodoss who were spoken of in legends. Wort was the mage of the six heroes who had survived the fight with the demon. Slayn silently gazed at Parn’s angry face.
“Why didn’t the mages fight back. It’s a mystery to me.” Parn continued. “If it was me…”
“If it was me, I’d stand up and knock down that Wagnard, right?” The voice came from behind Parn. Startled, Parn turned. His right hand reached for the hilt of his sword, and he settled into a fighting stance.
“Who’re you?!?” yelled Parn.
“Oh, sorry I surprised you.” The man leapt back, waving his hands in the air in front of him. It was the thief who should have been sitting at the counter. Somehow he’d snuck up behind Parn without anyone noticing.
Woodchuck had only listened to Parn out of habit. Thieves listened to everyone’s talk, trying to get a cut of any scam. Even if there was no profit to be made directly, there might be value in any gossip. In any case, it wasn’t as though he’d had to work at eavesdropping on Parn - his voice was so loud it was hard not to hear.
“It’s just, listening to you, I thought that maybe you were the kind of hero who could beat Wagnard. If that’s the case, I know a place where your anger could find its mark.”
A polite smile plastered across his face, Wood looked Parn up and down. The surprise disappeared from Parn’s face, replaced by an intrigued expression.
“It’s risky, listening to thieves’ tales.” Slayn’s voice was unusually sharp.
“I would think you too would welcome my news, ô mage of the Academy.” Knowing that this was the moment of truth, Woodchuck turned to face Slayn without letting his insincere smile slip for one instant. “Rumor has it that the treasures stolen from your Academy are hidden there. If that’s true, might it not be possible to pick up the pieces and reopen the Academy? You could occupy an important post there, once it’s restored.”
Though he’d advised Parn not to listen, even Slayn was starting to be interested in the thief’s information. He knew it was impossible to rebuild the Academy, but returning the lost books and relics might be of some use. Master Jagul would surely welcome them. If, that is, the thief’s story was true.
“Ô holy ear that knows truth,” Slayn chanted words in the ancient tongue under his breath. He felt the magic enter his body and slowly concentrate itself in his ears. The spell had worked. Even if the thief lied, Slayn would recognize his lies for what they were.
“Why don’t you tell us all the details,” Slayn turned to Woodchuck again. He pointed to an empty chair, inviting Wood to sit.
“Well, it seems you’ve finally decided to listen,” said Wood, sitting in the chair with a big grin. Looks like my luck hasn’t run out after all.
“Talk is fine. But please don’t just listen and take your leave. I want more from this than just a chat.” The elf and dwarf shared a meaningful glance, Woodchuck noticed. Elves and dwarves are always fighting, but they make a good team.
“Is that the price for your information?” asked Parn, puffing himself up. “My sword only fights in a just cause.”
“Of course, my young swordsman friend. I will guarantee that nothing I propose will sully your reputation.”
He’s not lying. The words came clearly to Slayn’s ears. Though he was lying about Parn’s reputation.
Feeling that he was safe around such a man, Woodchuck made up his mind to tell them the whole story. It’s not like I have any other way to make money.
