Side Quest - Chapter 1 (Patreon)

For over a hundred years there had been peace which was truly remarkable considering the struggles of past generations. It seemed every few years there was a calamity that threatened the lives of a kingdom, or some usurper that was hell bent on conquering the world, even the world itself had risen up to try and purge itself of the sentient beings it saw as a threat to the harmony of nature. Each and every time such a travesty would occur there was always some unknown hero that would stand tall and fight it back. Different champions, various backgrounds and personalities, points of view that ranged from the noble to the morally gray. Yet that cycle of villain and hero was said to have been broken with the last travesty and as time does to all things, fact became story, story became legend, and legend would slowly become a myth. 

Peace was relative however, compared to the world gushing volcanoes of ancient elementals that sought to march across entire continents with lava and flame a simple dragon holding a village hostage was a minor nuisance. There were still thrill-seekers to take up such high risk assignments like fending off a dragon. Adventurers that made lavish coin by acting as mercenaries for townsfolk, bounty hunters, and of course treasure hunters that would crawl through abandoned ruins and treacherous sites for a cache of ancient valuables, weaponry, and of course knowledge. The only problem was the mortality rate. It wasn’t uncommon for a party to come out missing a few of their initial crew and often the corpses remained where they fell. 

For Edward it was said that the calling towards adventure was in his blood, numerous descendants who had passed down their heroic genetics through the weave of ancestry culminated in his humble family. He on the other hand hardly cared for the ideas of venturing out of the town he’d been born in, it didn’t help that generations of wealth and riches had been passed down through his line. While it had dwindled he was already dreaming of the day it would go into his hands. So what did a pseudo-nobleman in their 18th year do for fun?

Gambling. Drinking. Mixing the two obviously, and sowing his oats. 

At the local inn, The Howling Moon, he was almost a little bit of a celebrity. He tipped well and his table was always set with fine ale and fresh meats. The worst part of the day was when the inn would close between lunch and supper and a barely sober Edward had to venture into the streets. On this day he decided he would head home and sleep off some exceptionally potent ale but his mother stood in the doorway with her arms folded over her chest. 

He took more after her than his father, his soft ocean blue eyes mirrored hers and those long auburn locks held a faint hint of crimson that was passed down from his mother’s burning red tresses. He had his father’s chin though, a strong masculine feature that cut through the hearts of townsfolk girls and inspired the generosity of their fathers. After all with Edward’s family wealth there would hardly be a need for a dowry! He often plucked an apple from the fruit vendor who took it as a sign of favor for his daughter, especially when his neighbor, the baker, who’s loaves (and his daughter) remained untouched! “Mother, dear..” Edward offered a wry smile as she stood there with disapproval in her blue eyes gazing down at him. He gathered his composure for a brief moment to stare seriously at the woman who’s patience wore thin by the moment. “I assure you, this time I was simply scouting offers and- ehm.” He saw a single eyebrow lift on her face and the ill-prepared façade cracked with his laughter. “Don’t do that!” His half-drunken howls escaped like a cackling hyena. “That’s not fair!”

“Edward.” The woman said plainly, her figure was hardly the norm for most of the townsfolk, while she was far past the bloom of her springtime, her summer body hardly knew the difference. Her youth spent as an adventurer had left her body spry and nimble, sure there was the formation of a slight double chin slowly growing upon her but for a woman who was in her forties she could easily be confused for the end of her twenties. But for all the trials and tribulations she had endured as the infamous Fiery Ferdia, she almost wished to be back fighting for her life and dodging traps rather than dealing with a disrespectful mouth. She was sure that Edward had gotten that part from his father. “Your father and I have been talk-“

“Dad’s here?” His eyes brightened at the prospect, his heart skipped a beat and for a moment he was completely sober until her sad eyes told him what he dreaded. “Oh, through communication orbs.”

“Yes.” She said softly, her eyes apologizing in a way that she could not. Her husband, Edward’s father, was a renowned adventurer that had seen the whole world twice fold and properly subsidized their increasingly comfortable life. Yet Edward still felt his absence in between sessions of choking the hole with fleeting pleasures. “We have decided it is time for you to make something of your life,” Edward folded his arms. “You will be going out and learning the ways of your ancestors in hopes that you may one day combat the evil should it ever return.” Mother simply rolled her eyes. “His words not mine.”

“Mother,” Edward smiled and waved his hand. “I already know what I want to do, I will open up a tavern of my own. See? I can gamble and drink and they’ll pay me to do it. Quite a genius move if I do say so myself.” 

He waltzed past her quite confidently in effort to make his way to the privacy of his room and sleep off what remained of his imbibed moments. For a modest home on the outskirts of town no one would have guessed that beneath the wooden floors hid a treasure trove of ancient wonders that had been plundered from their resting places and cataloged below. Surely any single piece would be enough to finance his hopes and dreams with ease. His fingertips tracked along the windowsill as he walked by, ignoring the fuming woman who slammed the door behind her. She should at least be grateful that they would air their dirty laundry in the privacy of their own home rather than outside where passing travelers might catch wind of their clueful words. 

It was hard to even consider another life for Edward, after all the wealth would simply be his when his parents made their final journey to the great beyond. All he had to do was wait out their end and he could do as he pleased with or without their permission. He smirked at the thought but when he came to his room and found an electric jolt awaiting his fingertips his cocksure attitude suddenly changed. “Excuse me.” He said flatly before turning and finding Mother with a cocky grin this time.

“You will not be sleeping in your room until you, or one of your adventurer friends,” She emphasized with her head leaning in slightly. “Can disenchant this trap.” Her fingertips lifted and a thumb caressed the tips as if she were rolling a coin through them but instead it was a small glittering spark that dissipated in a tuft of smoke. 

“I see,” He clenched his teeth tightly and walked past her once more into the living room where the warmth of a hearthfire had never refused him comfort before. It contained the most sophisticated comforts that wealth short of a nobleman could enjoy. Wooden furniture with animal skins that had been sewn together to make various cushions and pillows. “Well you could at least treat me like a guest right? I could sleep on the couch in the evening. You won’t even see me during the day.” 

“This is non-negotiable.” Mother stood firm with her hands on her hips. “Your allowance has been cut off and you won’t be staying here. Unless you think you can beat me in combat.” 

She was serious. Dead serious it seemed, and he had tested that round before and much to his dismay he still was in the process of living down the asskicking that she had handed him from on high. Obviously he had to try a different tactic. “Well. Okay say I did go out and became an adventurer, how am I supposed to do that? Are you going to at least give me the equipment to defend myself against bandits?” 

“Of course.” She offered a gentle smile. “You’ve been training for this for years.. at least until you stopped.” She shook her hand as if dismissing her criticisms. “You’re probably a little rusty but that’s nothing that being thrown into the thick of things won’t cure.” 

“A blade?” He pressed.

 She nodded.

“Gear?”

Another nod.

 “A pack of essentials for travelling the wilderness?” A last ditch effort, something to keep him in the safety of his home rather than some horrible end that seemed to be the fate of all adventurers sooner or later. He could really go for a drink about now.

To his dismay she held up a large knapsack prepacked and almost bulging with items, a compass, rations, and a rolled up bedding. “Already packed and ready to go.” 

His tongue rolled uncomfortably inside his mouth as he tried to find some combination of words that would evade her preparedness. “You’ve had this planned didn’t you?” She said nothing but that winning smile told him everything. “Well fine. At least give me the Serafesh.” The look on her face told him he’d gone too far. Her eyes glared daggers and he could almost feel his skin being tightened at the sight of her fingertips clenched onto the bag as proxy for his throat. He stood firm. He knew what he said and it would have been worse if he said it casually, it was almost like a curse word, the worst one could imagine, had crawled out from his mouth like an otherworldly creature made of oil and filth and had doused itself upon her. 

The Serafesh was an ancient blade that was said to have gone missing and for good reason. Of course there are enchanted swords and mythical blades that could rend flesh and carve bone. That was the standard, the more exotic swords could wield the magics of sorcerers and wizards, fire and ice, even druids were said to have their own iconic blades that could bite through chunks of flesh and leave teethmarks or floral vines embedded in the wound. Holy blades that were blessed by the gods that stabbed into the soul and purified evil and the yin of such holy weaponry were the tools of necromancers who could curse their steel and rot the flesh of its intended victim. These were common and uncommon blades, and yet there were blades passed down to royal dynasties that held combinations of such magics. Tempered blades with hilts forged from fragments of dragon bone, swords that wars were fought over.

Even still, the Serafesh was held beyond these with a name that almost seemed lost to time itself. Whispers of its incomplete name were found in smudged fragments of books long discarded. In his youth Edward had quite a bombastic mouth and had told the story of the sacred blade that resided in his home. Of course none of his peers would have understood such a treasure he spoke of, nor the weight of the words it carried, the mere whispers of his words had been caught on the wind and blown through the wheat of the fields into the trees of the forest and far beyond like freed dandelion seeds. In return those whispers had brought an evening visitor of unknown voices to their unassuming residence on the outskirts of a humble town. and the following morning his impudent hide was properly tanned by an angry mother.  In that moment his cushioned bottom almost felt the sting of a switch once more. 

“You will be adequately equipped.” Ferdia said sternly as if she were talking to a bold stranger that had requested a view of her uncovered chest. “That is all.” Her hand dropped the bag unceremoniously to the floor and her eyes dared him to speak a word. He was her son, her only son, the only child that had survived into adulthood and even still she would have sent him out into the world with enough bruises that a passerby would have confused them for spots if he had the gall to speak another word. 

To his credit, Edward finally shut up. 

…

Every piece of leather armor was accounted for as he strapped it upon is body. It was arm but still breathable unlike poorly fashioned gear that was more commonplace. He tallied that into the total value that rest upon his body, the knapsack was incredibly light, almost a feather upon his shoulders. The mass wasn’t different but it had obviously been enchanted for optimal comfort. Finally the sword. The craftsmanship was superb, sure it didn’t have the touch of lightning he would have preferred that travelled up and down the blade but it could slice and rend as fine as any other sword. The sword alone could fetch maybe 150 gold coins and that would be more than enough to spend a few months at an Inn, maybe more if he rationed his meals to less extravagant dishes.  As he examined the blade his face soured.

‘To my son, Edward, may we meet on the path of your adventure. – Father’

The words etched in the gold hilt devalued his blade considerably, maybe ten pieces or so but any armorer he brought it to was going to make a stink about it. He sheathed the blade and finished tightening his boots, a fist made and he hit the side of the leather boot before standing tall and upright with a plan for the future… Stay at an inn until his mother came to her senses and let him come home. 

“You look so handsome,” Edward turned to see his mother with an emotional smile brimming on her face, the look of tears starting to well up in her eyes as she witnessed her grown son finally starting off on his adventure. “I can’t believe this day has finally come.”

A small half chuckle escaped him as he slightly shook his head. “You know most mothers dread the day their son leaves home. I’m sure I could stay for-“ His body was suddenly embraced in a tight hug and he could almost feel the life squeezed out from him with his ribs pressured by her arms as she held him as tightly as ever before. 

“Nope! I won’t hear anything of it.” She released him and gestured out west. “Your first stop will be the nearby village of Ticumbrook, it shouldn’t be too much of a trek. Maybe a day or two, and don’t come back until you’ve had a worthwhile adventure!” 

He huffed and rolled his eyes before stepping closer to the wider world, his boots crunching into the road as he carried himself towards his first and hopefully last destination. Being at an inn for a couple months wouldn’t be so bad he reasoned. He’d drink, he’d gamble, it’d be a vacation.

“Oh, and Edward,” He looked back for a brief moment and his mother held a victorious smile with a small glimmer between her fingertips. His heart immediately sank. “No cheating!” Ferdia in her youth had been an enchantress and a thief, skillsets that had worked in tandem as she flashed a bright grin towards her son. Those skills from her youth hardly faded, or maybe Edward was simply too experienced or trusting to have considered the possibility. Oh well, he would learn soon enough to be vigilant if that was the case. 

It didn’t take a scope’s vision for him to know exactly what she held in her hands, he had memorized every inch of it by heart. It was rectangular in shape, a little larger than a gold piece and held three horizontal lines that rose from the center lining flush with the edges. The gold lines were untouched by a polish of purple that lay upon the base of the piece that was more valuable than any currency. The crest of a house, he presumed was his ancestor’s was on the other side. A shield in four quadrants with each slice holding an individual marking. 

He wasn’t sure what each meant but he didn’t particularly care, they could have been pygmies and orcs and it made no difference. What he cared about was that tiny tablet meant and the power it held. A simple dip in ink and press upon paper and debts were remediated towards the main bank that resided in the coastal city of Cardinshom. It was Edward’s privilege and birthright, the source of his exuberant escapades in the small town of Havenshire where he lived, his gambling debts, his tastes for fine wines and ales, not to mention the best meats, all of it had been placed on a tab which had been paid off in full, and the amount he was unaware of. He had received it on the summer of his 17th year, it was meant to be a gift that would aid him in times of need as an adventurer but it was simply a boon to the local economy and the surrounding areas. 

Hard times would fall upon the village of Havenshire without the rascal youth spreading the golden wealth of the kingdom of Cardinshom. Even harder times would befall Edward who’s golden safety net would no longer buoy his poor decisions in cards and extravagant tastes in luxury. “I don’t need it.” He said defiantly, a new plan in place to wait out his mother’s stubbornness. In vain he tried to swallow his fear as he turned away from the home of his birth and with a crunching of dirt beneath his boot he followed the path of the adventurer.