Heiddston

After a couple of weeks, Sybille and I received our bracelets from the Guild, and then went on our way to the town of Heiddston. It was a few ways northwest, and bordering to the sea, but at least that meant that we were just about as far away as we could from Akhronna.

Every step on the road there was a new sight.

Life was teeming in the landscape of Holy Brenna. We walked past golden pastures, verdant forests, and navy-blue lakes. I had just spent a few weeks traveling the place, and I felt as though I already knew it impossibly more than Akhronna, and I had spent months on the latter.

By the time we arrived at Heiddston, we found it in the middle of town-wide celebration.

It was the Harvest Festival.

The dance of the multitudes filled the streets, and confetti the air. It was a happy time. We were even offered free bread and wine as we walked by, which was merrily welcomed by Sybille’s hunger and thirst.

“This place is so nice!” said Sybille, one hand with bread and another with wine.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I replied.

She gulped.

“Ah… sorry,” she said. “You can’t enjoy it if you can’t eat, right?”

“I was never a big eater,” I said. “Although, I do miss the taste of a good pizza.”

“Ah, that food thing. Oh, Bastion… I’m sorry, if only I had some ambresian amber, I could give you a sense of taste.”

“Ambresian amber?”

“It is a rare type of amber that comes from ambresian trees,” said Sybille. “Thing is that the tree has been extinct in the Istellian Isles for hundreds of years. I have the rune schematic and mouth mechanism all figured out, but I need that amber to finish it.”

“Is that so?”

As we walked in search of the Guild Hall, the crowd suddenly dispersed, flocking towards the sides of the street. There were guards coming through and ordering the split. Soon enough, it was evident why.

Some kind of royal carriage was strolling through. It was hard to tell, but there was an older man inside, along with a younger man.

“Who are those?” I asked.

“My, don’t you know?” said a civilian. “That is Count Victor and his son, Lord Willem. As is tradition, they stroll through the town during the Harvest Festival at noon, and at midnight, they will bring out the Great Heidrun and finalize the festival with a river of mead.”

Mead was a kind of alcoholic beverage made with honey, I think.

“Oh, is that so?” said Sybille. “I wanna try that…”

As the carriage passed by us, I felt something staring at me. Or rather, us. From the carriage, I barely just caught the glimpse of the eyes of the young man within. He was staring daggers at us, not disengaging his gaze until the carriage moved too far away for us to see each other.

Just what was that, I wondered.

***

The town’s Adventurer’s Guild Hall was desolate. It was gigantic in size compared to the one back in Greenvale, but this hall was just about as empty as empty could be. No wonder. All the adventurers must have gone to the dancing and feast at the festival. Practically only the waitress and the receptionist were at the hall.

Sybille and I walked together to the receptionist girl’s table.

“Welcome to the Heiddston Guild Hall,” said the receptionist. “How can I help you?”

“Hello!” said Sybille. “Are there any quests in this town?”

“Of course,” said the receptionist. “There are many posted on the board, if you would take a look.”

She pointed us to a job posting board that was by the left wall of the hall. Sybille walked over to it and scanned it, searching for any good quests to take on.

“Hmm… there are some for iron-level work, and some for bronzes like us,” she said. “But the good ones are at silver and gold…”

As we were browsing the available quests, someone else slammed open the hall doors and walked directly towards us. He was a tall young man with blonde hair, and he wore a thick, brown cloak above fine, white clothes.

“You, mage,” said the man, “are you an adventurer from outside this town? I demand to know.”

An arrogant one, it seemed.

“Hmm…” said Sybille. “Why do you ask?”

“I have a quest for you, if you are,” he said. “Interested?”

“You can post your quest on the board, if it is that important,” I interrupted.

The man’s eyes went wide when he heard me speak.

“Huh…” he said, his eyes falling to the bracelet around my wrist. “So, you are an adventurer too.”

“And what is this quest?” said Sybille.

The man affixed his cloak.

“I need something to be fetched and returned here before midnight,” he said.

“Before midnight? Oh, it is for the festival, then.”

“That is correct. It is important that I have it back before the time comes. Can you do it?”

“Well… I can’t say I can do it or I cannot do it without details. What do you need us to fetch?”

“And from where?” I added.

The man stroked his chin.

As the waitress passed by as she cleaned the floor, she saw the man’s face. The sight alone made her drop her broom.

“Lord Willem?” she said. “Is that you?”

***

We sat down on a table along with Lord Willem to discuss the matter.

“So, you are the prince of the town…” said Sybille.

“Something like that,” said Willem. “I am the son of the Count, but I am not a prince. That title belongs only to His Majesty’s son.”

“I see. So, what is it that you lost?”

“My goat.”

“… Huh?”

Sybille and I paused incredulously.

“Your what?” I asked.

“My goat,” said Willem. “My family goat. She is the Great Heidrun, the Sacred Beast of our town. She has blessed us with plentiful harvests and rains, but well… she escaped.”

“Sacred Beast? What is that?”

Sybille answered that question for me.

“Sacred Beasts are animals with great magical powers,” said Sybille. “They are a lot like manaclasts, with the exception that they mutated with very stable and peaceful mana. Because of that, they gain magical powers, but do not become aggressive. Sometimes people can upset them and then they go rampaging, but they are usually intelligent, and can even understand human speech sometimes.”

“And this Sacred Beast used its power to bless this town,” I said. “I see.”

Lord Willem nodded.

“Exactly,” he said. “The Great Heidrun has a great temple for her personal use. We offer her tribute, and in return she gives us her blessings. It is tradition that in the yearly Harvest Festival, a candidate to become the Harbinger of Light of light will try to ride her from the temple and to the castle, and if they succeed, they are granted the great honor of the festival.”

“Harbinger?”

“Oh, right. You are not from this town. It is said that the Great Heidrun has prophetic powers, and will only let someone ride her if they are someone that she foretells that they will bring peace and prosperity to the land. If she does not accept her new rider, she will toss them off her back and try to escape.”

“And she escaped last year?”

“Well, no… see, if she rejects the rider, the guards will appease her with barrels of honey. Honey is her favorite treat. Then, they escort her back to her temple. But well…”

Sybille raised an eyebrow.

“Well?” she said.

“There were these ladies I wanted to impress, you see…” said Willem. “So, I sneaked the Great Heidrun out of her temple, and tried to ride her in front of them, but…”

“She escaped.”

“Yes.”

Sybille sighed.

“What is done is done, I suppose,” she said. “So, how much of a bounty are you putting on this?”

“Bounty?”

“Yes. The payment for our services.”

“Well… I can’t put a bounty on that public board. I cannot let anyone from this town know what I did. They will ruin me!”

“Then just hire us directly,” said Sybille. “But we expect to be paid.”

“Well, about that… I don’t really have any money.”

“Come again?”

“I do not have money. I have an allowance, but after my dad caught me spending it on too many singers, he took it away. I don’t have a gold coin to offer you.”

Sybille frowned.

“Uhm… I’m sorry. I don’t think we are able to just take a job like this for free. Right, Bastion?”

She prodded at my side.

“Oh, that’s right,” I said. “We can’t.”

“It is a shame…” said Willem. “Oh, I know! I will let you have some of her milk if you rescue her!”

“Hmm? But I can buy milk anywhere,” said Sybille.

“No you can't. Not hers.”

“Why? Is it delicious? Even if it is…”

“The Great Heidrun lactates mead from her udders, not milk.”

Sybille wasted no time at all in responding.

“We’ll take the job,” she said.