Chapter 1: The Answer
Merchants often weave tall tales of the places they've gone to, places full of wonders and dread alike. They stretch the truth, just as a baker stretches dough, with each retelling, adding in notorious bandits and creatures of old wherever they could in order to awe their audiences which in turn causes them to ask the merchants to tell more.
The only speck of truth that remained untouched through countless retellings was that of the Sunlands' deserts.
The blistering heat was unforgiving, every breath one took while traveling through the forsaken sands taken from the traveler as if the desert was taking more and more of that person's life. The creatures, both the size of a pebble and twice the size of a warrior, that found homes in the desert have resorted to stealing from and killing their own kind just to ensure their survival, resorting to even attacking and ransacking unfortunate souls that have stumbled upon their nests. Traveling merchants would often comment that the Gods purposely created the Sunlands as a minor example of what would become of the entire continent of Orsterra should humans ever dare to rise against them. If it wasn't for their exotic and rich wonders, they would say, they'd curse the Sunland people and deliver their goods to other towns across the continent.
Although the truth of the Sunlands was enough to scare most travelers and have them journey around the deserts through the Sea of Osterra, never minding the creatures lurking in the waters, one man, wearing an old, brown cloak to disguise his identity and lugging three sacks full of belongings, was set on going into its heart and through it to reach the Riverlands and make his way north to Victor's Hollow.
The man looked up at the sky, the sun was starting to set but Godsdamn it was still blazing hot, "So this is the wrath of the Gods." He took off the hood of his cloak, revealing the face of Olberic Eisenberg, The Unbending Blade of Hornburg.
"This wrath is unrelenting. Is this what they felt towards the people of Hornburg before it was fated to fall?" Olberic contemplated on that very idea briefly, memories of his liege during times of peace becoming vivid in his mind as he questioned why the Gods have blown out the life of Hornburg's last king. Visiting the ill and dying, raising the spirits of his army during times of war, treating prisoners of war with respect and kindness, ordering shrines to be built in tribute to the Twelve Gods, there was not a single action that his liege had done that could have angered the Gods. The people of Hornburg always respected him and looked to him for advice and guidance. With his wisdom and kindness, how could they not?
He shook his head, grief clinging onto his heart as he remembered his dear king, "No. King Alfred was a kind and understanding king, meeting the needs of his people as best he could while maintaining the kingdom's peace when war threatened it." His mind then drifted to Erhardt.
Over the years, Olberic's anger and confusion over his brother-in-arms and his betrayal haunted Olberic beyond belief. The ever twisting emotions joined by Olberic's inability to protect the person he swore to use his blade for were the very things that kept him awake for countless nights over the course of the last eight years. It was as if his reason for fighting went into the afterlife along with King Alfred's soul. "Even if Erhardt had a motive to wield his sword of betrayal and drive our kingdom to ruin by killing our king, I have no room in my heart to forgive him. He not only betrayed his king and our comrades but also those living in Hornburg that had bright futures." Even though his dear comrade and friend had done such a thing, he couldn't label his strong sentiment towards him as hatred. Not without knowing why he did what he had done. He sighed and put his hood back on, "But...is finding Erhardt…and…is truly my reason for carrying my sword? "
Olberic just wasn't sure.
He pressed on in his trek through the Southern Sunshade desert, cautious of where he placed his steps in the hopes that he did not stumble upon a monster's nest. He heard from a townsperson back home, an old man who was once a well known merchant in Orsterra for selling Cobblestone goods, that there was a small city, a rest stop for many weary travelers, named after the very desert Olberic was traveling through.
"You'll know you're close to the city once you see pots covered by red fabric," the townsperson told Olberic as he was packed the night before he left his home, "The trick to not getting lost in the desert is following the red flags. They're used by merchants who are either trying to get out of the desert or into the three major towns of the Sunlands to do their business." The old man heckled and laughed, "If you stop seeing the flags after a while, well, you might as well start digging your grave and bury yourself before a Sandworm feeds you to its larvae!" Surely that was a joke rather than actual advice?
He came upon the pots the old man spoke about and, beyond them, a bridge leading into the town of Sunshade stood before him. A stop to rest and fill up on water didn't sound like a bad plan for Olberic, who was weary from traveling in an area drastically different from the Highlands.
As he neared closer and closer to Sunshade, Olberic realized how different the old man's version of Sunshade was to the actual town itself. "Ah, Sunshade," the old man, closing his eyes as if to recall the very memory of first being in the city, "the city of pleasures! A city with a bazaar full of shops so beautifully adorned, a town full of exotic wonders just waiting to be discovered!"
The beautiful city described to Olberic that night was nothing in comparison to the dingy old town that stood in front of Olberic. The buildings, which seemed to be much smaller and closer together than those back in Cobblestone, were made of sandstone that had been worn out through decades of sandstorms and possible battles. The bazaar, which looked more like a small market square to Olberic, had small shops that sold food, pottery, fabrics, and medicinal herbs but the 'exotic wonders' that the old man spoke about were no where to be seen.
Olberic laughed at himself, 'It seems I've fallen victim into believing a merchant's tall tale.' Seeing that night has fallen, he located the inn, the eyes of several suspicious ruffians and guards following the warrior.
"New blood." Olberic heard one ruffian whisper to the other as he made his way towards the building.
"Yeah, but I wouldn't mess with him if I were you," the other whispered back, "take a look at the size of his sword! I bet the man has cut down at least dozens of men."
Olberic silently answered the ruffian back, 'Close, but try countless platoons.' He thought back to his many battles on the outskirts of Hornburg and how he struck down multiple enemies trying to get close to his king. How naive he was thinking that his king was safe when the true enemy was right at his side for so many years?
Olberic entered the inn. In front of him sat the innkeeper at a desk with a notebook that probably held records of the people that were staying at the inn. The innkeeper was a middle aged woman who had the face of a laborer and skin tanned by the sun over decades of working beneath it. "Can I help you sir?" her voice was soft yet raspy. She opened her notebook, a quill pen in her hand, prepared to write a record of her new customer.
Olberic smiled at the first friendly face he'd seen since the start of his adventure, "I'd like to rent out one of your rooms for a single night -" The old man's advice about the Sunshade inn resurfaced as he spoke to the woman. He had told Olberic about a deal for merchants that would be a bit pricey but well worth it if he was willing to take pay for it. Olberic was already hesitant about taking his word for it seeing as the old man's tales about Sunshade were far from the truth. Second time's the charm right? He continued, "and I'd like to do the Genishu deal for tonight."
The innkeeper looked at him with a raised brow as if to judge him. She then proceeded to look at him from feet up and then back down before grabbing a sheet of paper, adorned at the edges with silver, and began writing down in what looked like the written language of the Sunlands. "Where are you from dear? Do you have a name?" Her soft tone changed to that of a monotone one which was slightly strange to Olberic.
"My name is Berg and I hail from Hor-Cobblestone" Even after all these years, Olberic still wasn't accustomed to referring Cobblestone as his true home.
She continued to write the letter until she signed it at the very bottom. She folded the letter in half and looked down at her desk, reaching for something with her hand. When she grasped it, she stood up from her chair, went around the desk, and handed Olberic a key, "Your room will be the first door up the stairs to your left. You can leave your seven hundred leaves on my desk." With room key on hand, he watched the innkeeper, letter in hand, exit the inn.
Although it was a bit strange for the innkeeper to take leave so sudden and so late into the night, especially in a town with ruffians, Olberic barely thought anything of it as left his leaves where she specified and went up to his room. It was a simply decorated one with the only furniture being a bed, a desk, and a chair. The room was dimly lit by the single candle on the desk.
The only thing that was out of place in his room was a vase full of red primroses sitting at the corner of the desk. Olberic pulled off his glove and gently took one of the petals between his index finger and thumb. It was a real red primrose. While primroses themselves were a common flower, blooming in nearly every hedgerows or on banks in the wild, more lush places of Orsterra, red primroses only grew in the Highlands, more notably around Hornburg. He picked one up from the vase to take in its sweet fragrance, the smell of the primrose bringing him back to a much simpler time.
"Mother! Look what I found for you!" Hands that were still not shaped from war grasped a bouquet full of red primroses. He found himself back home with his mother in the rural part of Hornburg where the skies looked so much bluer and clearer than anywhere else on the continent, the fields so much greener.
His mother, wearing a long white sundress adorned with red lace at the edges of every opening, stood in awe at the sight of the delicate flowers, "Red primroses? Here in the Highlands?" She inspected them for signs of disease but found none. "We'll have to put these beautiful lovely ladies in cold water real soon. Show me where you found them so we can plant some in the garden together." Giving her son a wink, a sign of good fortune to come, "I have no doubt that we'll soon be the greatest florists because of this new discovery!"
'A kind woman', Olberic thought sadly as he placed the flower back in the vase. Just as a flower's beauty wilts, so did his mother's life, a life taken too soon.
Olberic slumped down on his bed, exhaustion hitting him as he did. Although he had found plenty of places scattered throughout the desert that were high enough to protect him from dangerous nightcrawler, Olberic slept very little in fear that Erhardt's trail might go cold soon if he did not find him soon. He had plenty of food thanks to the inhabitants of Cobblestone but his water supply had run low and, if Sunshade didn't exist, he surely would've died of dehydration. Thankfully he had more than enough coin to buy him enough water to last him the next three years if he so wished.
He unbuckled the belt that held his sword to him and placed it on the desk. He then dropped his baggage, thinking back to his time in Cobblestone as he carefully laid down two of the sacks filled with his provisions, herbs, leaves, and coins. Three days prior to Olberic's departure, the whole town had gathered up whatever they had to spare and filled up two sacks to the brim with necessities. Although the gesture moved the proud warrior of Hornburg and that such provisions would be needed for such a journey, he tried to politely turn it down only for the village headman to guilt him into taking them.
"I'm sure you know that it would bring great dishonor to yourself if you turn down the village's gift to you," he laughed as he handed the two sacks to Olberic, who took them with much hesitation, "it's quiet rude actually!"
Olberic smiled upon remembering the villagers' kindness. "I wonder how they're faring," his mind turned to the men that were sworn to protect the village, "Three days just isn't enough to teach years of swordsmanship but they're much more stronger fighting together as one. The village is in the good hands of strong men and an even stronger headman." He takes off his cloak and then his blue tunic, the sound of the metal shoulder guards and bracers hitting the floor rings through the room. Relief washed over his body after days of always wearing his shoulder guards and bracers, it'll be a while before he gets used to wearing them again.
As he massages his shoulders to ease the tension, Olberic thinks of Phillip and his mother, "That young lad will grow up to be a fine man. He has the potential to one day protect his loved ones from any ruffian or bandit that dare cross his path. I have no doubt that, one day, he'll even go beyond me in terms of physical strength and mental fortitude." He took pride in helping Philip slowly become the man he was destined to become.
He then thinks back to his liege and Erhardt, 'Perhaps if I was stronger or wiser I could've prevented disaster from striking.' A profound emptiness hits him. He sighs the thought away and takes off his white shirt, leaving his chest and back, full of scars from his younger days, exposed.
Olberic knelt down on the side of the bed and closes his eyes, beginning to speak softly, a wish disguised as a prayer that will only bring about nothing. His mother raised him to follow the path of Sacred Flame and that prayer would bring about the promise of answers to any and all of their worries. Despite what his mother had taught him about the Twelve Gods, he never received an answer when he asked why the Gods took away his father before he was born. He asked why the Gods allowed his mother to die so young just before he was knighted.
No answer was ever given to him.
If the Gods haven't given him an answer to his questions after so many years then why would they wait until now to do so?
"Oh Scared Flame," it seemed rather silly for him to speak to people that were not physically even there after so many years but he continued, "guide me so that I may come to understand the reason I still wield my blade. If all of my comrades have long died before me then why do I still live? What is my purpose for being here? Am I to avenge my fallen kingdom by finding the person that caused its fall? Or is there some greater evil that I will face?" An answer, a whisper, a vision, anything would do for Olberic so that clarity would shine over his worries.
But there was nothing but silence.
Although he should have expected to be greeted with no answers, he was disappointed. Instead of letting the prayer going unheard, he developed an answer of his own, 'Finding Erhardt will be my purpose for now.'
A soft knock on the door interrupts his thoughts and, before he could mutter out anything, the door started to open. Olberic turned to to see who it was, prepared to quickly grab his sword and strike the intruder down if necessary but quickly froze as he laid his eyes upon the person that stood at the door.
A woman stepped inside into his room and stood at the doorway. She reached a hand out to Olberic, her gold bangles clanked with each other.
"Sir Berg?" Words purred out of her mouth, sending chills down Olberic's spine. As if he was under a spell, he could not turn away from her beauty. "It seems fate has brought us together for a very special night."
First written work! (Yay!) I was never good at writing stories but practice makes perfect (especially if you set your mind to it)!
I'm probably going to make this a trilogy so please bear with me!
Please give me advice on how to improve my writing or if you simply like the idea! c: I'm super open to accepting advice and I'll do my best to improve my writing!