Chapter 38: Majula sans Erik
It was just another day in the Town of New Beginnings, as some unknown Undead had dubbed Majula by scrawling this phrase on the entry way to the village.
At least, it should have been. But the bonfire the Emerald Herald kept vigil over suddenly erupted into a towering pillar of golden flames that pierced the sky. No one could miss that, and when three figures were hurled out of the flames with incredible force everyone tensed, preparing for combat. The first one to rise was a huge, lumbering man in rust red armor, his helm shaped like a lion while he carried two massive weapons and a shield at his side.
The second was a much smaller man with a beard who carried an enormous great sword that glowed a soft blue. He was dressed in old, worn armor, and was looking around with an expression of relief at the familiar place he'd ended up.
The third was the most surprising. He was a Lionkin, tall and brawny with a tan coat and mane who was staggering around dazed. An oversized axe lay at his feet along with a wooden shield.
"Is this Majula?" The red armored giant of a man inquired, a tinge of sorrow in his voice at its state.
"It is! Ah-ha! We made it back safely!" The tanned man with the massive sword exclaimed, cheering their good luck. "I thought we were goners when the bonfire exploded like that!"
"Urgh." That was all the Lionkin got out before dashing to the edge of the cliff and vomiting.
"Is that you, Benhart?" Melentia called out in surprise, rising shakily to her feet to approach the newcomers.
"Oh, Lady Melentia. Yes, tis I!" The knight from Jugo proudly proclaimed.
"Who are your friends there?" The hag inquired, looking from one large figure to the next.
"The one feeding the fishes is Rav'el, a good man, err, Lionkin. We met him in the forest after helping his clan with a Basilisk problem," Benhart introduced. "The tall fellow next to me is none other than Red Blade Vengarl himself!"
Everyone tensed upon hearing that name. After all, it may have been centuries but the name of the legendary Forossan mercenary and his blood thirsty legacy remained. Their fears were alleviated somewhat when the tall man bowed politely.
"A pleasure to meet you all. It pains me to see the once prosperous Majula sunk to such a pitiful state," the ancient knight lamented.
"Has anyone seen a chef by any chance? Kind of scrawny but with rogue-ish charms? Goes by the name of Erik Potts?" Benhart continued. At his name many of the spectators stirred, especially Shanalotte and Chloanne. "He was traveling with us up until the bonfire exploded."
"No one else has exited the bonfire all day. Or yesterday. Perhaps he went somewhere else?" Shalquoir suggested, slinking up to the trio.
At the sight of the cat Vengarl massaged his head and muttered 'another Alvina, just my luck,' while Rav'el fell to one knee in subservience.
"Rise my child, no need to show me such respect. Here, I am just your average talking cat-merchant," the feline spoke, waving a paw towards the Lionkin. The chieftain nodded slowly before rising.
"Tell me, you said young Potts was with you?"
"Indeed, Lady Shalquoir. I had traveled with the chef for some time before we encountered something very strange in the Brightstone Cove," Benhart explained.
"Did he take a wrong turn perhaps? It's not unusual to get lost when using a bonfire's warping power," the cat said, curling up at the Emerald Herald's feet.
"No, my lady. To be honest we did not use a bonfire at all. It just sort of erupted when Erik tried to confront that deformed monstrosity that emerged from it."
"Pardon?" Shalquoir tilted her head to the side and everyone shared looks with each other.
"That accursed Aldia accosted us when we tried to use the Primal Bonfire in the Cove," Vengarl snarled. "His form may have mutated but I still recall his slimy, vile voice."
"Aldia? You mean King Vendrick's brother, the duke?" Chloanne asked, surprised.
"That cur was spouting nonsense, trying to get Erik to do something for him," Benhart explained. "But the boy was furious with him for some reason and tried to attack the man. However the duke attempted to escape back into the bonfire when Erik grabbed the hilt of the burning sword. There was an explosion, and here we are!"
"What?! Aldia lives? No, that's impossible! I saw him die!" Shanalotte cried, fear and loathing filling her soul at the mention of her old tormentor.
"Well he seems to have taken on a new form. Sort of looked like a rotted dragon made of bones and wood," Vengarl said. "And it seems he did something. If Erik is not here, then he may have been displaced by what ever happened."
Standing from her boulder the last of the Fire Keepers hurried over to Majula's Bonfire and knelt before it, staring into its crackling embers.
"What is she doing?" Carhillion asked, wandering over.
"She is using her connection to the Bonfires to scry for our missing chef," Shalquoir explained, licking a paw. "It shouldn't be hard to check for him since she has such an 'attraction' to strong souls."
The way the cat said that made some of the onlookers chuckle slightly while Chloanne's face twisted in annoyance.
After several minutes of in-depth prying and peering Shanalotte rose, shaking her head.
"I cannot find him," she announced. She swallowed a lump in her throat and suppressed tears that threatened to form in her eyes. Why? Why was his disappearance so painful? Why did her heart ache all of sudden when she was unable to locate the Undead?
Gasps ran through the area at her declaration, and Chloanne pushed her way to the front of the crowd.
"What do you mean? I thought you could find anyone!"
"He's gone. Somehow, whatever happened has severed his connection to the Bonfires. But he isn't dead."
"How can he be gone but not dead?" Vengarl demanded, leaning against one of the rocks scattered about.
"I-I cannot explain it, but it feels like he has somehow left Drangleic yet is still there. His time is… misplaced," the Emerald Herald explained.
"In the past it was possible for powerful artifacts to allow a person to slip through the bonds of time. If I recall Aldia was experimenting with an item that would allow him to traverse the ages," Shalquoir said, stretching before plodding over to the despondent Fire Keeper. "Here in Drangleic time and space are fluid. And if by some chance Aldia succeeded in his mad quest, then I fear the chef may have been thrown through time."
"Then what can we do?" Chloanne asked, all but begging. Shalquoir just gave a kitty equivalent of a shrug.
"Nothing. We just have to wait for him to return to the flow of time. It may take days, or months, or even years. But have hope. I can still feel his connection to the Great Souls. He is still the Monarch Candidate, and he will return to us."
The crowd dispersed in a depressed mood, trying to get on with their lives without the bright spark the chef from Lindelt had provided. Dreariness returned to Majula and settled like a shroud.
Time passed. Three months went by without a single trace of Erik, and though there was much commotion early on it eventually settled down.
Chloanne spent her time with her father as well as Maughlin, practicing her skills as an ore trader by examining the materials the pair of them gathered and worked on. Maughlin had been thrilled to have someone else from Volgen around, especially one his age who understood his craft. That fact she was a beautiful woman wasn't bad at all, either. He and Lenigrast worked on all sorts of projects alongside the buxom merchant.
Gilligan stayed as far from the father and daughter pair as he could, as a confrontation was the last thing he desired. Sure, he was Undead, but that didn't mean he liked dying or getting hurt. He spent most of his time fiddling around with ladders and helping with various construction jobs to make the houses a bit more intact and habitable. Say what you like about the Laddersmith, but he knew his craft, however odd it might be.
Magerold had struck up a unique companionship with the cartographer, Kale. Both spent time pouring over old maps and documents inside the massive house. The former because he was seeking undiscovered treasures while the latter just wanted to explore Drangleic. The interaction was good for Kale, as he had someone to help him focus.
Melentia was a strange one as always. She sat in her little corner near the entrance, greeting the occasional new comer and selling her wares. Her cackle still set people's teeth on edge though.
Carhillion continued to experiment and study with the Chains of Caitha's enchanted navigation device, content to spend all his time on doing what he loved. He kept trying to get the rest of Majula's inhabitants to listen to his lectures on Sorcery and magic though.
Licia kept up her vigil in the underground passage, keeping the Red Phantoms at bay. There was an unusual amount of activity from them in recent days, and the Blue Sentinels often popped in to deal with them. The Cleric of Lindelt was oddly distant from the blue clad Phantoms, and only spoke to Chloanne, the only other young woman in Majula besides the Emerald Herald.
Saulden, for his part as Grand Master of the Way of Blue, fought alongside Licia often, keeping the accursed followers of Nahr Alma away from the last safe haven for the Undead. He spoke little, and seemed to strike up a rapport with the equally silent Cleric, though she rarely bothered to give him anything other than mistrusting glares. He also commanded the Twin Azure Orders to keep an eye out for the young Undead.
When the knight wasn't fighting he was lounging on the steps of the monument, sitting next to a very odd new guest.
Vengarl, once the infamous 'Butcher of Forossa,' had really mellowed out after centuries as a decapitated head. He spent most of his time resting next to the monument alongside Saulden. He would occasionally aide the crestfallen knight in repelling the Brothers of Blood but for the most part ennui had consumed him and he did nothing but stare with sorrow at the names scrawled upon the symbol to those who fell to the Giants. He'd known many of them, and it reminded him of old mistakes and a poorly lived life.
Benhart had left Majula in an attempt to seek out Erik. He refused to believe he was gone until time decided the chef could return, and wandered out of the town often, carrying the Lindelt man's Bottomless Box around for safekeeping.
Rav'el had returned to his tribe as quickly as he could. His Pride needed its leader and with the Gyrm now allied to a dark and fallen god they had to prepare for war.
Occasionally Lucatiel and the young Pyromancer Rosabeth would pop in to grab supplies. When they'd first heard about Erik's disappearance they promised to look around while they sought Aslatiel. So far though nothing had come from either front.
The swordswoman from Mirrah grew increasingly despondent and desperate. Two of the people closest to her had vanished, and it was only Rosabeth's upbeat attutide that kept Lucatiel from slipping.
Shalquoir appeared utterly unconcerned with the events around Erik's situation. After all, as she had said, he was still tied to the First Flame. It would not let the cook escape that easily and sooner or later the Undead would be dragged back onto the path of the Monarch Candidate in his own timeline. All they'd have to do was wait.
And lastly, there was Shanalotte. Any spark of life had left her. She just sat at the bonfire, day and night, staring into it. Hoping and waiting and praying for the man who refused to leave her thoughts.
She did not understand why. What spell had the chef cast on her? No matter how she tried she could not forget his mussy brown hair or his shining smile or his bright, innocent eyes. Erik had wormed his way into her heart, and she couldn't help but feel lost. Despite her long years alone, she finally felt the crushing loneliness Shanalotte had vowed she would never experience.
But one day, everything changed.
The bonfire began to glow and pop and sizzle, signaling that someone was about to come through. The Emerald Herald could barely muster up the effort to look up and greet the arrival. But her eyes widened as the shape that emerged was very familiar to her.
Limping from the bonfire's flames was Erik Potts, a sigh on his lips as he massaged his waist and wrists and muttered about an 'insatiable crazy woman.'
His complaints died as he looked over and saw the Emerald Herald staring at him in shock.
"Oh. Hello. I'm back at last. Sorry for the trouble and the wait," the chef said with a cheeky grin and a wave towards the last Fire Keeper.
"You're here. You're back," Shanalotte muttered, unable to believe her eyes. She rose and took a trembling step forward as if moving too fast would cause Erik to vanish.
The Undead in question just continued to give his goofy grin. At that, something snapped inside her. She lunged at the cook and tackled him with a crushing hug.
"You damn fool. I was worried about you."
"Oh, really? I didn't know I'd made such an impression on you," Erik said, scratching the back of his head while his face turned pink. He could feel her deceptively ample assets pressing against his chest yet he slowly returned her embrace.
"I'm back. Sorry for making you worry."
All across Majula a ripple slowly spread out as people began to register the chef's return. Chloanne burst out of the blacksmith's hut and joined in on the tackle-hug, aiming for his back.
Cries of joy and welcoming rang out as people rushed to greet the man who'd touched their lives. Vengarl and Saulden both rose from where they'd sat at the same time before sharing an embarrassed look and sitting back down. Showing affection was not something they could ever admit to doing. Especially not in front of witnesses!
Maughlin and Lenigrast greeted the young Undead with sales pitches, which earned them both smacks on the back of their heads from Chloanne. Licia stared out from the entrance to the depths with a smile and a wave, unwilling to get mixed up in a crowd. She'd say hello later, when there were fewer people.
The loner group of Magerold, Gilligan, and Kale just looked on as well, but were content to let the good mood infect them and smile a bit.
Carhillion just looked excited to have someone new to talk to about Sorcery. His eyes widened however when he saw the sword and crown in the Undead's possession.
"Boy! Is that the legendary Ivory Crown and Blade of Eleum Loyce?" He cried in shock, pointing at the items in question.
Everyone's gazes turned to his belt where the artifacts hung, and Erik coughed awkwardly.
"Yes. Yes they are."
"It seems you have a story to tell," Shalquoir said as she sauntered over and rubbed against his legs.
"I suppose I do. It all started when I was thrown out of the bonfire and landed in a snow drift…"