Chapter 2 Steel and Sorcery

Rhys and Jesse began their journey to the port kingdom of Eire, a trek that would take four days and four nights from Eissenfeste.

The road descended from the high plains into the heart of Eissenfeste, a city neither wholly of men nor wholly of beasts, but something in between. The scent of spice, burning tallow, and freshly tilled earth mingled with the dampness of autumn rain, filling the air with the breath of a land teeming with life. Renaissance-style towers and fortifications rose above bustling markets, their gilded spires and broad parapets lending an air of nobility to what was, in essence, a city of commerce, a fortress of trade where all races came to barter, rest, and replenish their supplies.

Jesse had seen illustrations of cities in the tomes of Willowdale’s libraries, but none had prepared him for the sheer enormity of it. Streets wide enough for direcows—massive, shaggy creatures that hauled merchant wagons—were crammed with bustling traders, their voices a discordant harmony of languages, accents, and dialects.

There were dwarves, clad in thick, soot-stained tunics, arguing over the price of firesteel and rare ores. Birdmen, their crested heads swaying in the wind, moved carefully on taloned feet; they did not fly through the streets, for, as Rhys had explained, 

"Flying takes more out of them than walking ever would." Jesse observed insectoid traders, their chitinous bodies reflecting the midday sun, exchanging delicate glass vials filled with shimmering powders, their antennae twitching as they chittered amongst themselves. And then there were the elves—tall, regal, their cloaks of silver and green flowing like river silk, their expressions unreadable, their voices soft yet commanding.

For Jesse, who had never strayed far from Willowdale, it was as though he had stepped into a living tapestry, woven from the pages of a hundred different books.

Rhys gestured toward the towering battlements of Eissenfeste, its turrets shaped like the fangs of a great beast, flanking the main gates. "It’s a fort town," he explained. "No finer place for merchants and warriors alike to stock up before heading west or south. There’s coin to be made here—more than in any royal city." He scratched his stubbled chin, nodding toward a group of armored sellswords haggling over enchanted polearms. "Plenty of trouble to be found, too, if you’ve got the stomach for it."

Jesse turned his gaze toward the port, where ships laden with barrels and crates unloaded their wares, their captains shouting in hurried commands. "What about merfolk?" he asked curiously. "Do they trade here as well?"

Rhys let out a chuckle. "Not likely. You’ll find water spirits from the fae realm at the docks from time to time, selling trinkets or old relics, but merfolk? They don’t set foot on land. Potion-brewing to let them walk among us is too expensive, and they’ve little interest in dry-world dealings." He jerked his thumb toward a weathered shipwright, whose beard was nearly as long as Jesse’s forearm. "The old salts whisper about merfolk treasures hidden in the deep, but you’d have better luck wrestling a mountain troll than meeting a real mer in these parts."

The city keep loomed before them, a relic of old wars, its stone walls bearing the scars of siege engines and spells long since cast. Here, General Cliff awaited them, standing at ease near the city square, his broad frame casting a long shadow over the cobblestone path.

Jesse stiffened at the sight of him. He had met beastkin before—there were some in Willowdale, though few stayed for long—but General Cliff was not merely a beastkin. His furred face bore the blend of two different creatures: the keen muzzle of a hound, yet the high, branching antlers of a stag, his golden eyes sharp with the instincts of a hunter. Jesse had heard of such folk—half-breeds, born of two beastkin species—but he had never seen one before.

Rhys, seeing Jesse's hesitation, chuckled under his breath. "Surprised, are you? Thought a dog and a deer couldn't mix?"

Jesse, flushing slightly, stammered, "I just… never considered it."

Cliff regarded him with a measured expression. "It is not common, halfling," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "Nor is it ideal." He gestured toward his sturdy leather armor, crafted to accommodate his unusual frame. "Half-breeds like myself are often treated as lesser folk—too different to belong to one kin, too foreign to belong to another."

Jesse frowned. "But… if you’ve got skills that neither race has alone, doesn’t that make you valuable?"

A slow smile pulled at Cliff’s lips. "The scholars and the magi say much the same. Our kind possess unique abilities, new forms of magic, heightened senses. I, for example, have enhanced tracking—no quarry can escape me. But I cannot cast spells. A beastkin’s instincts, an elf’s agility, a dwarf’s strength—none of them come to me as fully as they would to a pureblood."

Rhys scoffed. "Bah. Race purity’s an outdated notion. If you can fight, you can fight. That’s all that should matter."

Cliff let out a bark of laughter. "If only the world saw it that way."

Before departing, General Cliff of Eissenfeste, a stern but fair leader, provided them with provisions and a purse of 200 silver crowns. In the southeastern lands of Upsurgeth, silver crowns were a common currency, exchanged for paper banknotes and gold bars. The sum was enough to cover their travel expenses to Eire's imp camp and back, as well as to recruit additional adventurers for their perilous mission.

Recognizing the need for specific skills, they aimed to enlist a ranger who specialized in hunting beasts and was familiar with the surrounding terrain, as well as a mage capable of unraveling curses and calming the imps. Rhys knew just the ranger to recruit—a friend from his past. They agreed to meet at the Miner's Den inn after securing their new companions.

Gathering Allies

Jesse made his way to the Magic Academy, where he was introduced to Jacques Cadfael, a distinguished human battlemage and honor student. To Jesse’s surprise, Jacques wielded no staff; instead, he cast elemental magic through a strange and intricate floating puzzle known as the Puzzle Nexus. In the Rising Realms, mages typically channeled their power through objects of personal affinity, and for Jacques, a lover of puzzles, the Nexus was his perfect conduit.

As they spoke, Jesse explained their mission and asked Jacques to join them. Intrigued, Jacques noted Jesse’s sincerity and found common ground in their mutual dedication to training and study.

With his muscular build—a testament to his belief that physical strength bolstered his magical prowess—Jacques was a formidable presence. However, he questioned the practical benefits of joining Jesse's party, as his aspirations extended beyond mere adventuring; he dreamed of becoming a renowned businessman.

Jesse assured him that adventuring would spread his name across the lands, gaining him the recognition and influence he sought. Swayed by this vision, Jacques accepted, pledging his skills to the group.

Meanwhile, Rhys approached another half-blood like himself: Keldrin Forestwhisper, a half-elf ranger known for his mastery of the woodland surrounding Eissenfeste. Keldrin, resting in a shadowed corner of the tavern after selling furs and meats in the marketplace, was persuaded to join. The ranger, now 300 years old, longed for new horizons; the familiar woods of Eissenfeste had grown stale, and with his friends and kin gone to the Grey Heavens to rest under the watch of Dea Dia, the goddess of the woods, Keldrin had little left to tether him.

Meeting back at the Miner's Den, Jesse and Jacques found Rhys already there, conversing with Keldrin. The three misfits gathered with their fourth member, setting out under the cloak of night with a shared purpose: to hunt the imps that threatened the peace of the region.

The Eissenfeste Magic Academy, once a proud institution, stood in the heart of the city, its towers laced with creeping ivy, its banners faded by time. What was once a beacon of magical study now struggled against the rise of larger academies in capital states.

Jacques, walking ahead of the group, scoffed at a group of mages whispering in the halls. "They think I won’t make it far," he muttered to Jesse. "Because my Nexus takes time to solve."Jesse furrowed his brows. "But you cast spells with that thing faster than I’ve seen any mage with a staff!"

Jacques smirked. "Yes. But it requires understanding. And people don’t like what they don’t understand."

Rhys, overhearing, snorted. "Aye, well, I think it’s a daft contraption. Give me a hammer and a straight fight over a floating puzzle any day."Jacques rolled his eyes. "And that’s why you’ll never grasp true magic, Rhys."

The Journey Begins

As they walked, the group exchanged stories about the strange occurrences beyond their borders. Jesse, with a youthful determination, expressed his desire to be a hero, a sentiment that brought smiles to the faces of his companions. Jacques revealed that his motivation lay in finding his estranged siblings, having been cast out as a bastard son of an earl. Keldrin, wistful and wise beyond his years, spoke of his longing to find an elven maiden worthy of his heart.

The journey had been pleasant, the road lined with fields of golden wheat, dotted with wayfarers and shepherds, their flocks of deermen and sheepmen grazing in the pastures. High above, gryphons soared, their wings glinting like polished steel against the midday sun.

Nixies and satyrs lined the roads at resting points, offering jars of honeyed mead in exchange for coin. Rhys, ever devout, stopped at small roadside altars dedicated to Aegle, the Goddess of Light, muttering his prayers beneath his breath. Jesse had never been religious, but watching Rhys kneel before the carved stone, he wondered if there was more to faith than mere words and rituals.

As they approached Eissenfeste, Keldrin let out a sharp whistle. "Well, lads," he grinned, shouldering his bow, "let’s see if we can’t make a name for ourselves before nightfall."

Rhys grinned, clapping Jesse on the back. "Aye, and let’s hope we don’t end up in the gutter before breakfast."

Jacques sighed, rubbing his temples. "For once, can we try not to cause a scene?"

Jesse, watching the towering gates of Eissenfeste open before them, could only smile. For better or worse, their journey was truly beginning.

Rhys, however, harbored darker tales. He recounted rumors of orcs and goblins amassing armor and siege engines, wraiths prowling the night, and whispers of the Blade of Dusk—an ancient artifact tied to a long-dead Dark Lord—being unearthed once more. "Orcs are multiplying in the mountains, and trolls, cunning and well-armed, now roam the land," he said grimly. "And there are creatures more terrible than these, though they have no name. It’s like the world itself is preparing for war."

Keldrin nodded, sharing a legend from his father: the Sun Blade, a mythical weapon that would one day reappear in the hands of a hero to fight the encroaching darkness. Jacques cautioned them not to speak of such things aloud, as shadows still lurked in every corner. He mentioned that the blade was said to be hidden in a dwarven cave, sealed with ancient magic, but its true location was a mystery.

"Let’s hope the sword never sees the light of day again," Rhys muttered, glancing at the sky. "We’re hardly equipped to deal with such threats."

Keldrin, leaning on his bow, elaborated on their current foe: imps, small gray beastmen with bulbous noses, typically harmless unless provoked. They were known to trade ores and trinkets with humans, making their sudden aggression puzzling.

The journey continued as the group bonded over shared hardships. Rhys, a devout follower of Aegle, goddess of light, often prayed during their rest stops. He spoke of his broken family, ruined by greed, and of his unwavering faith that Aegle had never abandoned her paladins. Jacques confided in Jesse about his sisters, who were striving for a better life within the business guilds. Together, they found solace in their shared status as outcasts, united by the desire to carve out their own legacies.

Keldrin, though more cautious by nature, had his own dreams of adventure. "If we survive this," he mused, "perhaps we should travel east, maybe even seek the Dragon Rider Solarien, the Young Sun."

Jesse’s heart fluttered at the name, a sense of destiny stirring within him, though he did not yet understand why. Little did he know that this name would lead him to his eternal love, Yonsil.

The Battle of Eire

On the third day, as they neared Eire, they encountered a beleaguered group of militiamen, surrounded by snarling imps. Wasting no time, the party leaped into action. Jacques unleashed a barrage of colorful missiles from his Puzzle Nexus, each one reflecting and amplifying light into deadly rays. Rhys, wielding his mighty hammer, smote down his foes with righteous fury, while Jesse engaged the imps, deftly parrying and striking.

Keldrin, ever the keen-eyed ranger, noticed a larger threat: an imp general astride a dire wolf. He loosed arrows at the beast, but they glanced off its thick hide. The party had no choice but to make a stand. Jesse, ever the strategist, noted the disarray among the imps—disorganized and frail, their cohesion shattered.

"These creatures are too chaotic," Jesse observed. "They should be an easy match, yet here they are, seemingly driven by some external force."

Spotting an opportunity, Jesse decided to challenge the imp general directly. Rhys, initially against the idea, snorted. "That’s suicidal."soon joined in, his dwarven pride inflamed by the audacity of the challenge. Keldrin and Jacques cleared a path, allowing Jesse to engage the general in single combat. Their blades clashed, sparks flying, and Jesse's agility soon overwhelmed the imp leader, forcing him to call a retreat.

As the imps scattered, Keldrin's elven ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps. "Hold your ground," he warned. "More could be coming."

They braced for another wave, but instead, a group of Eire soldiers arrived, routing the remaining imps. Among them was a burly woman on horseback, who dismounted and approached the group.She dismounted and approached, a grateful smile on her weathered face.

"I am Captain Madeleine of the Eire Guard Corps," she introduced herself, her voice firm but warm. "You have my thanks for aiding my militia. We've sent word to General Cliff; Eissenfeste and Willowdale are under our protection. But these imps...they seem driven by something far more sinister than simple aggression."

Rhys spoke up, recounting their battle and the imps' presence near Willowdale. Madeleine nodded gravely. "There are troubling tales from the west—rumors of greater shadows stirring. For now, rest and gather your strength. We aim to strike at the giant imp Noggle, who guards the hills of Eire. He must be dealt with before his forces can wreak further havoc."

Turning to Jesse, Madeleine continued, "I sense you have the resolve to face Noggle. This task will fall upon you, and many will rely on your courage."

Jesse, though overwhelmed, felt the resolve of his companions bolster his own. "We’re with you," Rhys said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We’ll give that Noggle a good 'noggin'."

Madeleine smiled, her expression softened by hope. "There are still shadows in the dark, but together, we will shine a light upon them."

As the group prepared to move on, Keldrin offered a quiet prayer to the night sky. "May this be the beginning of our adventure," he said, sharing a knowing glance with Rhys. Jacques, overhearing, chuckled. "Stop moping, you two. Whether we succeed or fail, we’ll be remembered. For better or worse, our story begins here.Let’s make it one worth telling."

With renewed determination, they set forth, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, their bond as unbreakable as the steel they carried.

As the night fell, the four companions—misfits and outcasts—looked to the horizon, where shadows loomed and danger awaited. But for the first time, they felt the stirrings of something greater than themselves—a chance to carve their names into the annals of history, to stand as heroes beneath the sky.