RFC-Mini Arc: The Temple-Part 01 (Patreon)

Here we go, the first mini arc! Ideally, I would want to put these out a bit faster  than my normal update schedule and no better way to start that than with the bonus chapters owed by reaching 50 patrons! 

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The Beast Sanctuary.

One of the more famous institutions of the Grand Hall. Manabeasts are powerful and unusually aggressive, which is why they are commonly referred to as monsters. That’s not something thrown around lightly but a well-deserved reputation. At best, they’re seen as pests. At worse, nightmares.

However, all things have their uses. Farmers raise dogs to guard their livestock. How much more useful would that dog be if it was the size of their barn and could spit fire? Nobles raise falcons as messengers. What if those falcons were as intelligent as a child and could use wind magic to fly at speeds that made them a blur? Not to mention all the useful things that can be harvested from them.

Inevitably, crazy people who thought they could raise and breed monsters appeared. Many died, but a few managed it. It doesn’t work with every monster and not everyone can do it, but it’s possible.

The Sanctuary has the largest collection of domesticated manabeasts in the kingdom. Comprising a whole fifth of the Hall, it dominates the northern side of the island. From what Kierra tells me, it’s divided into different habitats which are further divided into farms, simulated natural habitats, and training facilities.

For fighting with Prince Samuel outside of sanctioned combat, my punishment is spending three Restdays as a volunteer for the Sanctuary. Considering I attacked a royal, I think I got off light. Suppose it depends on where I’m assigned. Working with the already domesticated monsters doesn’t sound fun but if they throw me into the reservations where monsters roam freely...

I head out first thing in the morning. Luckily, the main road passing through the residential area of the island also leads to the southern gate of the Sanctuary, meaning I can take a carriage, a sleepy Nomad on the bench.

It doesn’t take long to spot the towering gray stone walls that only grow more massive the closer we get. I can’t help myself from gawking. The structure isn’t impressive. It’s knowing that measly stone is meant to hold back the thousands of monsters within. I don’t quite grasp that number until I see how long the walls stretch. Saints, how can people sleep soundly on this island? Suddenly, I feel like we’re one step away from disaster.

The closer I get, the less I want to be here, but, unfortunately, I don’t have much of a choice. The carriage rolls to a stop and I jump out, Bell on my heels. “Make sure you get some sleep,” I call out to my driver, patting the side of the bench.

“You should be careful,” he mumbles in a barely audible voice. “There are ghosts here. Death and ghosts.”

“Huh?” What in the saints’ grace does that mean?

He doesn’t answer. I backpedal as he turns the carriage away, the horses slowly clopping down the road as Nomad guides them home with drooping eyes. Sleep talking? The strange bandit frequently spouts nonsense. I just wish he wouldn’t do so while I’m nervous.

“Coo!” [There is no need to be nervous, Master Lou.]

“Maybe not for you.” I open my arms and she obediently jumps into them. I guide her onto my shoulders and she settles in, hands atop my head as her tail wraps around my neck protectively. I’m not truly worried. With recent events, I have confidence in my abilities, specifically my fighting abilities. Not to mention, the abilities of my elementals, and more importantly, the ease in which I can command them has been thoroughly impressed upon me.

Hmph. It’ll take an army chasing me down to make me sweat. Which is a valid concern in a place with a ridiculous number of monsters, hence my…mild concern.

The Sancutary’s southern gate comprises two enormous wooden doors Something that might seem ridiculous but the abilities of a physical caster is not to be underestimated. They can make a stalk of grass as hard as steel.

Carved into the wood is a scene of Plain Wardens, deerlike monsters that were prolific in the time of the kingdom’s founding and the animal on the royal family’s crest, leaping through tall grass. The detail is so lifelike, I might think they were actual monsters if not for the uniform brown of their coloring.

If my wife can be believed, each gate depicts a different monster, pardon, guardian. Manabeasts that were especially influential in the formation of the kingdom. The Plain Wardens are creatures with powerful earth affinities. They were famous for working magic as a herd that could change the landscape. Undisputed rulers of the plains that stretch over most of the central part of the kingdom, they drove off many more predatory and aggressive manabeasts. Coincidentally creating a safe place for the humans who were new to the continent.

Eventually, progress meant the fledgling Harvest Kingdom clashed with the monsters who didn’t appreciate having their land claimed by settlements. But the Harvest family never forgot their gratitude to the benevolent creatures, immortalizing them on their banner as the monsters’ numbers dwindled.

Personally, I think they would have preferred their lives but something’s better than nothing.

Two guys are waiting in front of the gate, watching me as I take my time approaching. They’re dressed in labor wear; dark, short-sleeved linen shirts and shorts. Both wear a thick leather belt with several pouches attached to it and wore wide-brimmed straw hats, I imagine great boons standing under the sun for any length of time.

“’Lo there,” I shout, unconsciously slipping in the slow drawl and slight swagger I adopted while walking amongst the common masses. Proper speech patterns and a straight spine are easy ways to draw attention to yourself when drinking with a group who never learned to read.

I clear my throat, reminding myself where I am. “Ah, hello,” I say again as I stop before them. “Um, I’m not quite sure how this works. I’m meant to be working as a volunteer so I need to get in there.”

“Don’t need our permission,” the one on the right says. He looks to his friend who gives him a lazy look in return before shrugging. “Follow me.”

I trail behind him as he walks to the gate. How does he plan to move one of those freakishly huge doors with those arms? He’s very lean and his biceps have impressive definition, but those giant slabs of wood are four times my height. I imagine they have to be quite thick too, otherwise the carvings wouldn’t have that level of definition. Maybe he’s a physical caster?

I’m both disappointed and awed when he presses on a block of carved grass and it swings outward. A smaller, much more manageable door. One you’d never know was there at a glance.

“Thanks,” I mutter, as he graciously holds the door for me.