First two chapters of my first attempt at writing. (Patreon)

Yes, this is OLD. It is a story I still fully intend to revisit at some point, but I'm doing AR, revisiting Divine Path, and have another story in my back pocket (burning a hole there, tbh) that will take precedence. Wonder if anyone cares! And yes, Ashtali predates Ashlani.

Chapter 1

Elliot shifted, and sat up. Looking out the window, he noticed it was slightly earlier than he usually woke up, but he supposed that was a good thing. As he stood, Elliot replaced his bedding, then approached the window.

As he inclined at the waist, Elliot murmured “By Ren all things are possible, Ren will save those that believe, Ren can do all things. The One is all, and all is of the One.”

Having finished his morning salutation, Elliot began his daily routine. He undressed, grabbed his towel, and, wrapping it around himself, walked out of his Spartan room.

Upon entering the communal compound, Elliot strode towards the baths, nodding his greetings towards his fellow followers of the One. The stone floors were cold even through his slippers. He opened the door to the baths and sat at his designated stool, while taking note of the vacancy to his left and Doran finishing up on his right.

“I see I’m still slower than you in getting up.” Elliot laughed to Doran.

Doran looked up and rolled his eyes “You know how much exercise I need to do to keep up with my compulsions. I need to get up early and train so I don’t collapse in a time of need.” The breadth of his frame certainly testified of his continuous and strenuous exercise.

“Well, I certainly envy the… cleanliness… of your compulsions.” Elliot hung his head, and, as if shaking off some unpleasant thought, suddenly asked “Did you see if Elise is up yet? It doesn’t look like she’s washed up yet.” He said this motioning to the dry stool to his left.

Doran stated “Her door was still closed when I got up. I figure she’s just a bit behind, as usual.”

“All right. Could you knock on her door as you pass by and make sure she’s up? It’s assignment day today.”

“Yes. Hurry up and wash.” Doran wrapped his towel around himself and walked back into the compound.

With this, Elliot realized that he had been sitting on the stool, motionless for however long it had taken him to finish the conversation with Doran. Quickly, he grabbed the water ladle and poured the icy water over himself. By Ren I can’t wait for summer, he thought to himself.

After quickly scrubbing himself down, Elliot dried himself, wrapped his towel around his waist and walked to the wardrobes in the square. Finding a brown pair of pants and red shirt that were about his size, he discarded the towel and began to dress himself.

While he dressed, Elliot gave cursory greetings to the followers who passed him, but focused on readying himself for his duties. I need to set the example. After all, I have my mission scheduled, Elliot thought to himself. Once prepared, he quickly left for the dining hall. As he walked the halls, he heard the rustles of other people beginning their days.

Once there, Elliot quickly ate his oatmeal with extra sausage, and moved quickly to the wall to pick up a medium sized satchel. Quickly glancing through the contents, he realized that his usual stock of vials was missing. He turned to the distributor’s desk, but once he saw the line in front of the desk, which stretched across the dining hall, he decided that he could make do on site. After all, he justified, I’ll find myself in all sorts of difficult situations on my mission. Feeling reinvigorated, Elliot quickly headed off to the assignment distribution hall to meet up with his group.

Once he arrived, Elliot found himself face to face with Doran once again now dressed with a large pack, and Elise at his side. She was dressed in her typical muted shirt and pants with her wool cloak.

“Good morning Elise. How’re you doing today? Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, then gave a faint smile. Doran glanced at Elliot and nodded.

After stewing for a moment, Elliot pressed on, saying “Well, the team’s all here, so I’ll go get our assignments for the day.” He walked off, hearing Doran mutter something to Elise, with a muted response.

As he waited in line, Elliot looked over the board to see who needed Ren’s help today. He really hoped that they were nearby this time—he was often so exhausted after the healing sessions that Doran ended up needing to half carry him back to the Academy most of the time, leaving Elise to be the only person who could focus on protecting all three of them.

When he arrived at the front of the line, Elliot saluted the man issuing orders while he, Eric, said “Lucky you, group one! There’s a farmer, Johnson, who lives just south of here whose daughter recently broke her leg, and can’t work. Your group will go there, heal her, and be back probably before lunch ends. Report to me here when you finish and I’ll see that it’s recorded and will give you your next task.”

Elliot knew that Ren wouldn’t be happy to know it, but he was sick of listening to this rote assignment dialogue every morning from the same crotchety old man. Nonetheless, he smiled and accepted the assignment as he turned back to his group.

As three clerics who were blessed with exceptionally manageable compulsions and strong inclinations, Elliot, Elise, and Doran were the ideal grouping of individuals to be sent out on these requests.

As he joined back up with the others, Elliot smiled and said “All right, we’re going south, into the farms. We’re looking for a Johnson and his daughter.” Doran and Elise nodded, and they went on their way.

The group exited the Academy once they had checked that they all had their bags completely ready. As they walked the paved roads, Elliot glanced at the sweeping spires and sprawling communities and felt even more excited for his upcoming journey. He couldn’t wait until he was a true inhabitant of those prestigious edifices.

The group followed the main road out of Renstadt proper, the roads shifting from cobblestone paving to hard packed earth. Suddenly, Doran asked “Elliot, have you repaired your boots’ soles yet?”

Elliot sheepishly looked down as he shrugged. “I just get so tired at night that I keep forgetting. And” he added with a smirk “You’ll just end up carrying me back anyway, so do I really need the repairs to be done? You could just carry me there too. It’ll help with your compulsions too, you know! Then you can just light up the whole—“

“I know you know that it doesn’t work that way,” Doran grimaced and interjected, “and you know I know it too. Plus, we’re getting back well before dark, so there’s no need for me to ‘light up’ anything. Can we go one day without the idiotic suggestions, please?”

Elliot grinned, and began to wheedle “Aw, it’s just because you’re so blessed with so much power that I want to help you exercise it. You know, so you can better serve Ren, as recorded in the fourth aspiration. Right Elise?”

With this, Doran looked to Elise for support, and she just helplessly shrugged, saying “Well, technically what Elliot is saying is in accordance with the fourth aspiration, so I can’t say that he’s wrong. But… Elliot, you know that the aspirations aren’t for manipulating your fellow servants. Furthermore, the sixth aspiration does dictate that the contracts that we have received from Ren are meant to be used for the establishment of Ren’s will in his absence.”

With this, Elliot grinned some more, saying “Maybe next time I’ll get you then.” At this, both Elise and Doran sighed exasperatedly with the slightest of smiles tugging on the corner of their lips. Seeing this, Elliot broke into a wider smile and walked on.

As they entered the farmlands, they began to ask at each household if they knew a Johnson whose daughter had recently broken her leg. After spending half the morning looking for the man and his daughter, they finally found a farm that seemed to be the one they had been directed towards.

Elliot approached the door and knocked, calling out “Hello? Johnson? We’re the followers of Ren, come to heal your daughter?”

Upon hearing this, a middle-aged woman rushed out of the house, immediately bowed, and, on the verge of tears, cried out “Thank Ren you’ve come. I’m Johnson’s wife and Leah’s mother. My husband is in the fields but will be back soon. For now, let me show you in.”

Elise, with a gentle smile on her face, approached the bowing woman and said “You don’t need to bow. We aren’t Ren himself, but liaisons from him. You are right to thank him though, as it is by his command that we are here.”

At this, the woman seemed both relieved and taken aback. Elliot, with a polite yet firm smile, followed up with “Really, we are just servants. Can you show us to your daughter?”

Hearing the direct invitation, the woman wordlessly stood and guided the group inside, apologizing about the mundanity of it the farmhouse every step of the way. Directly in front of the door were stairs leading upwards, and on the walls hung various herbs and vegetables, evidently drying out for future use.

Having passed the stairs, the group arrived in the kitchen, which was dominated by the smells of cooking and laundry. An old iron stove stood in the corner next to a cupboard, where various eating implements were carefully placed. To the side of the cupboard was a large bucket, which was evidently used for washing both clothes and dishes, and in the center of the room there was a well-worn table with various tools and vessels strewn about.

Seeing the trio’s curiosity, the woman smiled and said “Willow bark has helped ease Leah’s pain, so I’ve been mixing that up with some other herbs to help keep the wound from infection as best I can. That reminds me—which of you is the healer?”

Elliot, hearing infection, perked up and turned to the woman. “What wound? Isn’t it just a broken leg? How is there a wound to worry about? Oh, and it’s me, my name is Elliot.”

“Nice to meet you, Lord Healer Elliot. I am Valeria.” Having finally made her formal introduction, the woman’s face twisted, “Well, Leah’s a good girl, so she decided to help out with the milking. She’s always helped with the goats, but decided to try helping with the cows. She startled one of the cows, and got kicked hard in the thigh. As for the wound… maybe it’s better if you take a look, as the more experienced ones here.”

Elliot quickly turned no-nonsense and gestured for her to lead them to the girl as quickly as possible. They turned the corner and entered a small room, in which a child, no more than five or six, lay, her face pale.

As she saw her mother, Leah asked “Are these the nice people who you said are going to fix my leg?” Valeria smiled and said “Yes Leah, they are the Followers of the One, and they can fix your leg. Can we go ahead and let them take a look at you?”

The little girl nodded seriously and lifted her dress to her hip, exposing her thigh, which seemed to have been thoroughly snapped in several locations and had a nasty wound in the center, from which shards of bone protruded.

Elise and Doran both seemed to turn green upon seeing the state of the poor child’s leg, but Elliot looked unperturbed and muttered under his breath “A compound fracture then.” He gently asked Leah, “Can I touch you? I need to be able to look even closer.” She glanced at her mother, who nodded, then resolutely nodded in affirmation.

Elliot placed his fingertips on her leg, and Leah softly whimpered in response. As he extended his senses through her body, he was relieved to see that there were no signs of infection throughout her body, and that, though ugly, the break was the only thing that the child was suffering from.

As he extracted his senses from the child, Elliot heard heavy boots walking in the house, and looked up. A man, presumably Johnson, walked in the room. He was a large man, even taller and broader than Doran, and he had obviously come directly from the fields, going off the dirt on his face and his sweat stained shirt.

“By Ren, perfect timing.” Elliot said as he rose. He looked to the big man and asked “Do you happen to have any animal slated for slaughter?

“Yes, would a chicken work? if not, we do have a cow that we could—”

“The chicken certainly should be more than enough, don’t worry about the cow.” he heard a nearly inaudible sigh of relief. “I’ll need a bit of its blood, if it’s not too much of a bother.” Having said this, both Doran and Elise looked at him, obviously confused. Elliot looked back, and just smiled self-assuredly.

“All right, I’ll go and collect the animal now.”

Johnson quickly left as Elliot said “Good. Then I’ll begin.”

Elliot again turned to the child, this time placing his entire hand over the wound and eliciting a cry of pain. Looking inward, he called upon Ren, asking him to make this child one once again. As he did so, he prompted the bone to knit back together, the blood vessels to become one, uninterrupted pattern, and the skin to regress to its previous, unblemished state.

Beneath his hand, Elliot could feel the healing taking place. He felt the bone shards shift back to their proper location, he felt the torn flesh becoming one again, and he could feel the leg returning to its original form, becoming one once again. And, he felt the compulsion.

Quickly, he looked at the child and saw that her face had relaxed. Elliot then turned to Valeria and said “You don’t need to worry if she soon falls asleep and sleeps for the next eighteen hours or so. She’ll be exhausted, and, just in case of infection that I missed, keep feeding her the willow bark. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Elliot nearly ran out of the house, the pangs growing stronger and stronger. He was followed by Doran, and Elise stayed behind, looking even sicker than before. As Elliot exited the house, he heard the cries of a chicken, then nothing. He hurried towards Johnson, who stood next to a bloody chopping block, holding the twitching body of a decapitated chicken beneath his hands.

Quickly, Elliot ripped the corpse from the startled man’s hands and, half desperate and half sickened, placed his mouth over the bleeding stump that was the late chicken’s neck. Latching on like a suckling child, Elliot drank the metallic liquid. Mentally, Elliot was measuring the compulsion, waiting until he felt that the requirements had been met so as to allow himself to stop drinking the first second he could.

In the very moment that the compulsion left him, Elliot dropped the corpse and looked down. Well, at least I got a red shirt today, he thought to himself.

Looking up, he saw the expression on Johnson’s face: disgusted, and trying to hide it.

“First time you’ve seen a compulsion this strong, I’d assume?”

“Uh… yes, Lord Healer. I’m sorry if I’ve offended—“

“Johnson, I am no lord. Save that for those who deserve it. Remember—it was Ren that healed your child, not me. Worship him always.” Having finished with his compulsion, Elliot felt a surge of weakness and began to slump down. Quickly, Doran caught him, and supported him.

Looking morbidly curious, Johnson asked Doran “Why the blood? Why not anything else?”

Doran turned and, matter-of-factly, answered “Did he look like he enjoyed what he was doing? No. There is a cost for our contracts. You wouldn’t really know, as you weren’t blessed with a particular aptitude, but when we invoke Ren’s power, there is always a cost. For Elliot’s healing, it always involves him drinking blood. That is the price that Ren has set, and Elliot willingly paid it for your child. You would do well to remember this, and thank Ren that Elliot and others like him are willing to do what they do, all the time, for nothing more than their love of Ren.”

Having finished his piece, Doran went inside, called Elise, and, still supporting Elliot, left.

»

Once they had distanced themselves sufficiently from the farmhouse, Doran immediately rounded on Elliot.

“Why in the name of the One didn’t you use your prepared vials of blood? Care to explain why you, as a representative of Ren, felt it necessary to traumatize that man?” Doran’s face began to flush from anger, and Elise looked supportive and sick.

Elliot also flushed, but from embarrassment “Well… my pack hadn’t been packed properly, and, since I’m going on a mission soon, I figured I should learn to make do when I’m not in ideal circumstances.” He tried to smile sheepishly, but seeing the genuine concern on Doran’s face, and Elise’s attempt to hide her disgust, he couldn’t truly smile.

“Elise, I’m sorry. I should have thought of how hard it is for you to see my compulsion, and taken the time to get stocked up on vials. Doran, I’m sorry that my selfishness put us all in a tough spot.”

With this, the group moved on, Elliot supported by Doran and Elise acting as vanguard.

Elliot had always been the life of the conversation, so whenever he was down or tired, the group tended to travel in silence. This tendency held true, even though Elliot tried to incite conversation several times among the other two, so their journey ended with their eventual and uneventful arrival back at the Academy in the early afternoon.

Once again within the walls of the Academy, the exhausted Elliot dragged himself back to the assignment hall, and reported to Eric while the others waited in the central compound.

Finding himself in front of the door to the assignment hall, Elliot braced himself and put a dependable smile on his face. As he entered the hall, Elliot took note of how empty it all was, and so thought that his group must have been the first to complete their task and return. He couldn’t help but smile a little wider as he was reminded of his group’s competence.

As Elliot approached the table, Eric glanced up, saying “Group leader one, your team is the first to return, but you are a bit later than anticipated. What happened?”

“What was reported to be a simple break was, in fact, a compound fracture with the threat of infection. On top of that, due to my negligence, there were issues regarding my compulsion after making the child one once again. At no point was I overcome, so there are no worries there.”

Eric looked surprised. “You’re always so careful with your compulsions. Would you care to expand further upon this?”

Elliot grimaced, and replied “Sir, when I checked my pack this morning, I noticed that there were no blood vials included. Noticing this, I thought that, as I am due to leave on my mission soon, I should make do on site. As it so happens, the wound was more serious than expected, so the compulsion I incurred was more severe than I had thought, leaving me weakened. I take complete responsibility.”

“Well,” Eric drily stated “You look terrible. You and team one are excused from further field assignments today. Your team will help with lunch cleanup and dinner preparation, and you are assigned to rest until dinner, at which point you and your team will be assigned to lantern duty.” Having stated his piece, Eric’s face shifted, and he smiled at Elliot. “You have worked hard here for your whole life, and… you have received your mission. You’ll be briefed on your assignment and leave tomorrow morning. Good luck.”

Elliot was astounded, twice over. First, he didn’t realize that his mission was already here. Second, he’d always thought that the geezer’s face had permanently frozen into a dour, businesslike façade.

Having heard the news, Elliot beamed and said “Thank you sir”, then went off to tell Doran and Elise the news.

»

“Congratulations!” Doran actually smiled for once, and Elise flashed a smile after Elliot told them the news. “Do you know where you’re assigned?”

“No, I’m being briefed by a paladin tomorrow morning. I hope it’s Keller or Reidan who assign me!” Elliot replied, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. “I hope I get assigned to the highlands, to teach the Masakh royalty!”

Doran chided “Chances are, you will get a southern, Veushten mission, and will be assigned by another healer with your inclination. They can give you solid advice, and help you out on the way.”

Elise added “Please be careful with your compulsions…” she looked down “You never know what might happen.” All three fell silent for a moment.

“Well, we’ve been assigned to lunch cleanup, and I, for one, would like some lunch to eat alongside what I’m disposing of, so we should get going.” Doran said, looking at Elise. As he turned back to Elliot, he finished, “Really, congratulations. You’ll be a great missionary, and I’m sure you’ll bring many people to know of the One true way.”

Chapter 2

 “We’re almost into Shafton.” the man said, stirring Ashtali from his reverie. Ashtali looked up and saw the soaring towers with the sun starting to be hidden behind them, the bleached stone and those billowing, navy flags with the striking white line through the middle. No matter how many times he came into Renstadt, he felt jointly amazed and disappointed. Amazed by the craftsmanship seen in the cities built by the Followers of the One, and disappointed at a people who professed to yearn after oneness, yet found themselves incapable of being one with the nature around them.

Looking from the city back to the man, Ashtali faintly smiled and nodded his thanks as he made sure everything in his travel pack and satchel was accounted for. It was, so the moment that they arrived at their destination, Ashtali disembarked from the wagon and handed the man a pair of coins.

“Pleasure having you along!” the driver said, smiling. “What did you say your name was?”

“A-ah. Gerard.” Ashtali answered, giving his trade name.

“Will you be looking for any jobs in the next day or so?” the driver asked. “We’re back on the road again soon, and I wouldn’t mind having an extra Veushten guard around for our next journey. We’re going pretty far west, nearly to the mountains, and,” the driver grimaced “You never know what’s going to happen around there. And this time, you’ll be the one being paid!” At this, the driver gave what appeared to be his best winning smile and extended a hand.

Ashtali again faintly smiled but shook his head and waved as he walked off.

The man probably wanted a discount guard, but I’ll never stoop that low. Ashtali thought as he pulled his cloak’s hood over his head. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his identity as a Veushten though, given that he stood at least half a head taller than the tallest of the city’s occupants.

As he walked down the busy streets of Shafton, Ashtali felt disinterested by all the shops and their stock that lined the streets. All that he needed could be carried on his back and in his satchel. Thinking this, Ashtali subconsciously thumbed the clasp holding his satchel closed.

While the Veushten male held no interest towards what the salesmen and women had to offer, they seemed convinced that he truly needed what they had to offer. No matter how often he raised his hands and shook his head no, the next salesperson, who seemed as zealous to their sales as they were to Ren, would doggedly hawk their newly manufactured textiles, the finely crafted jewelry, or whatever other trapping of their society they had to offer.

Ashtali made his way further into the city, feeling slightly claustrophobic from the walls that surrounded him. They were different from the forests where his clan lived. There was no sunlight filtering through the thick foliage, casting everything in shades of green, no sound of the wind rustling through the branches, or the smell of life all around. Everything in these cities was artificial, and violated the natural order of things. Ashtali missed true nature whenever he came here. The nature he knew was so different from the tamed forests and valleys found in Renstadt.

Finally, Ashtali found himself in the doorway of the only building he truly knew in this city—the Veushten guide Headquarters. He hoped that, this time at least, his client (or clients, for all he knew) wouldn’t be going deep into the Shandise. While he didn’t have anything else to do, Ashtali certainly didn’t enjoy traveling with some zealot talking his ear off then complaining that the tallest mountains in the world were cold.

Bracing himself, Ashtali pushed the door open and stepped into the poorly-lit reception room. As his eyes adjusted, he took note of the hunched man sitting behind the desk who seemed to be giving assignments to those who entered. The man looked up at the sound of the door opening, slowly moving his eyes up Ashtali’s frame.

“Wow, you’re big, even for a Veushten,” the man remarked. “Could I get your registration? Or are you a prospective guide?”

Ashtali shook his head, took his registration papers out of his satchel, and handed them over. The smaller man looked them over, muttering under his breath “Gerard… eight completed journeys… discount guide?” at this, the man looked up, confused. In answer, Ashtali raised his mangled right hand.

The secretary quietly gasped. Ashtali knew it was shocking to see—the had was missing the top two joints of his thumb as well as the index and ring fingers.

The man looked at Ashtali and, disbelieving, asked “The scars look clean—was this deliberate?”

At this, Ashtali narrowed his eyes and scowled a bit. The man immediately realized his mistake. “Sorry. Not my place to ask.” He immediately changed the subject, “Well, everything seems to be in order, so, as an apology,” the man looked genuinely apologetic, “I’ll give you a choice between two options. The first is being the second guide for a complete liaison, a group of twenty missionaries and a paladin, who’re going to the western wild mountains. The other would be guiding a single missionary deep into the Wilds. He’ll coming from Renstadt in the next couple of days. What’ll it be?”

Ashtali didn’t hardly need to think—while the larger party would be a shorter trip, the fewer people he had to deal with, the better. Additionally, the paladins tended to be exceptionally hard to deal with, what with their absolute certainty in their religious inclinations coupled with their extra years of experience.

At this, Ashtali raised his left hand and lifted two fingers. The man looked confused for a moment, then said, “Ah, the second option? The single missionary?” Ashtali nodded. “Well,” the man looked uncomfortable, but continued, “Sorry, I need to know—was your tongue cut out as well? If it was, I’ll have to list that as well.”

Ashtali inwardly grimaced. He knew it would come to this. “N-n-no, I-I-I can talk f-fine.” He hated his voice, as well as the fact that he couldn’t control his stutter. Having heard him speak, the man seemed to understand his silence to this point and simply nodded, saying, “Good, then you’ll have a couple day’s down time until he gets here. Is there anything you need until then?”

Thinking it over, Ashtali figured he might as well get as much out of the way here as possible, in order to spare himself from embarrassing himself in front of anyone else. “A r-room, a-a-and access the in-n-nscription s-supplies.”

“Oh, are you looking for anything specific?”

“N-no, j-j-just paper and ma-ma-maybe some o-other things if-f-f they c-catch m-m-my eye.”

The man nodded and gestured over his shoulder towards a closed door. “Stock’s in there. If there’s anything you’d like to buy, just take notes of them all, bring the list to me, and I’ll tell you the cost and get it all packed up for you.”

Nodding his thanks, Ashtali began to walk towards the supply room. As he opened the door, he took note of the shelves lining the walls and their contents.

Vials of various liquids lined the wall directly in front of him. Various animals’ and people’s blood, juices, purified water, and ink, to name a few. He wasn’t needing any liquid agents for now, so Ashtali disregarded that wall.

On his left were various containers with mixing ingredients—bones, plants, feathers, fur. Ashtali had been missing some bear teeth, so he was hoping to find some here. To his disappointment, the supplies here only had wolf teeth. These were better than nothing, so he decided to buy a couple and ask about some bear teeth, just in case he’d missed them.

Finally, Ashtali came to the wall on his right. Here were the writing surfaces. Mostly paper was found here, but there were also some tanned hides and writing utensils, labelled and carefully placed in their respective places. Fortunately, all of Ashtali’s regularly used hides were still in good shape, so he didn’t need to worry about having to get correctly tanned replacements any time soon.

Altogether, Ashtali felt underwhelmed by the selection laid before him, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that, and, while there were some materials he would like to purchase, they would welcome a new slew of questions that he was quite unwilling to deal with.

Having decided what he was going to buy, Ashtali quickly finished his list and carried it back to the man, waiting outside.

Glancing at the list and going through a mental inventory of his stock, Ashtali nodded to himself and handed the list over to the waiting man. After glancing over the list, the man looked up and asked, “Any questions?”

“B-b-bear teeth?”

“Well, we’re out right now, but we have some supplies coming in tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let you know what the new, related stock is that comes in tomorrow.”

Ashtali nodded his thanks, then asked “M-m-my r-room?”

The man reached under his desk, grabbed a key, and said, “This room will be upstairs, down the hall and to the left. Second from the end of the hall.”

Again, Ashtali smiled, nodded, then went on his way. He was looking forward to being able to set his pack down, so he went directly to his room and carefully set his pack down. His satchel, however, stayed on his side, as it always did, alongside his utilitarian knife.

Now that he had gotten his accommodations and next journey sorted, Ashtali began to think of what he should do for the next couple of days. There were rations to be purchased, just in case there were any moments in which nature decided to be stingy, he should take the time to make sure all of his equipment was in good shape, so he would probably have to drop by a smith’s.

Well, Ashtali mused, There is a lot for me to do, but I only just now got into the town. I’ll just tackle what comes first. Dinner it is then.

With an eventual destination in mind, Ashtali exited the room, locked the door, then, as he exited the building, asked the secretary where he could get his meals.

»

Ashtali couldn’t decide which he hated more—the confused looks on people’s faces when he used nonverbal communication whenever possible, or the pitying looks on their faces when they heard his stutter. No matter what he did, people would pay him special attention. All Ashtali wanted was to be able to meld into the background, just as he did in his native jungle. He hated the city. Damnation, he hated civilization and people most of the time. If only people—

Ashtali was roused from his course of thought by the server bringing his food. He set the bowl of stew down in front of Astali and asked “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink? We’ve got plenty of wine.” Ashtali shook his head no, and the server walked off as Ashtali brought out his water bladder.

Ashtali never understood why some people obsessed over wine. While a drunken fool was, occasionally, an interesting spectacle, he couldn’t understand why someone would like to take a perfectly good juice, let it go bad, then drink it. Furthermore, why would someone want to lose all their inhibitions? This society that the Followers of the One treasure so much is based off of people’s continued good behavior, and alcohol always seemed to disrupt the fluidity of their carefully constructed lives.

Well, regardless of what beverage accompanied the meal, the food smelled good and Ashtali quickly finished eating it all, then stood and payed on his way out.

On his way out of the tavern, Ashtali thought about what he had yet to do to prepare for his eventual foray into the inhospitable mountains, but, taking note of the sun, nearly set at this point, decided that most things best wait until the morning. Having made up his mind, he resolutely turned towards the guide headquarters.

Upon his arrival, Ashtali took note of another two hooded males who seemed to be receiving assignments from the secretary that he had spoken with earlier that day.

They turned, hearing the door open, and seeing a fellow male, said “Viili vaata” as they inclined their heads.

“Vaata.” Ashtali responded as he inclined his own head.

He walked past as they resumed with their conversation with the secretary, evidently signing themselves up to work with the full liaison.

As Ashtali climbed the stairs, he wished he had a traveling companion male. It got so boring and lonely sometimes. Regardless, it was time to retire, so he retired to his room.

Upon his entry, Ashtali shed his cloak and travel clothes then sat at the desk provided in the room. It’s nice that the guides get these desks by default, Ashtali thought as he opened his satchel and looked through his inscriptions.

He, like every Veushten, took meticulous care of his inscription materials and finished inscriptions. In front he had his basic strength enhancers, then his stoneskin hide, pain numbing and skin knitting scrolls, and berserker bear hide. After those were his crowning works, as well as his secret stash of experiments.

As he thumbed through the stack, Ashtali took note of which disposable inscriptions he was running low on—in this case, some of his strength and agility enhancers were running a bit low, and his berserking inscription needed a new coat, but that was to be expected. All of his higher quality scrolls were in good shape, meaning he didn’t have to replace them.

As he took out the paper he’d bought that day, Ashtali also opened his pack. Under all his spare bedding and clothes, packed carefully in a small box were his inscription supplies. Vials of liquid agents, small sacks containing additives, and his varied brushes and pens were all in their designated locations, as they should be.

Deciding to hold off on any replacement for the berserker hide until he had some news on the bear teeth, Ashtali set to inscribing a couple new agility enhancing inscriptions. He took out his vial of rabbit blood, along with some water from a river he had forded a few days ago, and mixed the two in his mortar, as he extracted a falcon’s talon from its container and placed it as well in the mortar.

Deftly crushing the talon with the pestle held in his right hand, Ashtali pinched a small amount of pigment in his left hand and sprinkled it into the mixture as he finished his preparations. With this, he could begin his inscription. Ashtali placed a single sheet of paper in the center of the table and weighed the corners down with small, flat stones. Finally, he removed his deer-tail brush from its holder in his supply box.

Dipping the brush, Ashtali began his inscription as all inscriptions did—from the center. He wrote the swirling lines denoting swiftness and grace first. He’d found that his inscriptions displayed their greatest power when he completed every style of line before he continued to the next. Thus, he completed all three of the lines of grace and moved to the sharper lines denoting speed and agile movement.

As Ashtali worked, the lines wove together in their harmonious, exact way. Ashtali lost himself in his creative reverie, leaving the last, short, completion line incomplete, ready for use when he needed. The inscription measured up to his standards, so Ashtali gently set the paper-turned-inscription on his bed and turned back to the desk, determined to finish at least three more inscriptions before the night was through.