VIVID_DISFIGUREMENT // 01

A brilliant glow radiated from the window, illuminating the room. Coda stirred as the sparrows cheeped and the starlings chattered. For any outsider, it was a beautiful day; the blue sky shimmering as a reflection in the water, a still landscape of oak and maple stretching for acres in every direction- nothing could be amiss.

But for Coda, the cold sweat he found himself in proved otherwise.

Another vivid dream had left his mind in a state of disfigurement, the ending always the same old cadence. A grandiose demise: whether it was via drowning or being mauled by a wild beast, it always left the same distasteful impression on his psyche. He often thought to himself that such dreams were, for the most part, meaningless, but the recurring themes of a gruesome death started to lie heavily on his consciousness. It gave him something to think about during his downtime, if nothing else.

Having decided enough hours had been spent milling about under the duvet, Coda decided to brave the cold. He pulled himself out of bed to get dressed for the day, just before a startling thud came from just outside his door.

"I'm coming!" Coda declared as he trudged to the door and twisted the lock.

The moment the mechanism was disengaged, the wooden door was almost ripped off its hinges. It flung open to reveal a Driiguurd standing there, an unimpressed demeanor plastered across his rugged face.

"You're late," he spoke, his eyes fraught with impatience.

"Better late than never, right?" Coda suggested, scratching his head.

"It's about to be never if you don't hurry up," the Driiguurd responded, stroking his coarse, brown beard in annoyance.

"Right, right. I'll be there in a bit. Don't want to keep Staffodil waiting," Coda replied. He began to close the door, motioning that the conversation was over; it would have been, had it not been for the Driiguurd jutting his boot between the door and its frame.

"Five minutes," he warned, before waddling off down the corridor of the academy lodgings, grumbling to himself about the Elven youth these days.

Always so bothered, that guy, Coda thought. He began to dress, peeling off his moist clothes and throwing them onto an ever-growing pile in the corner of his room.

“Adduct,” he muttered, alongside a tired hand wave. His cupboard door swung open, and he rustled through the hanging clothes to find today’s outfit. Seeing as it was a special day, he decided upon his favorite tight-fitting white t-shirt, baggy black trousers, and a large black overcoat-in case the temperature took a turn for the worse. He fumbled at the drawstrings, settling on a haphazard knot that would undoubtedly come apart with the slightest force.

His hazel eyes darted across the room as he patted himself down, making sure he had everything for the day. I.D. card... check. Notebook... check. Keys... keys? The wooden desk shook as he ransacked each drawer, hoping to hear the giveaway jingle with each movement. No luck. He checked the pockets of the clothes he had worn yesterday-the wear from training starting to show on the garments-but again, no reprieve. Finally, in a last-ditch attempt, he lifted his Xorki omnibus on his bedside table, dust drifting everywhere. There they lay: the hopeful glitter of his keys. With a quick wipe of his brow, he grabbed the keys and sped out of the room toward Staffodil’s office, his curly black hair and matching black coat floating in the wind.

"Late. Again," grumbled Staffodil, his sanguine eyes glistening under the dim lighting of the office.

A grand table sprouted from the center of the room as if it were rooted to the ground. The floor was a cold marble, as pale as snow. Granted, it was a small room-perhaps a dozen strides in length and half a dozen in width-but nonetheless, an air of authority commanded itself within the confines of its poplar walls. Behind the table sat an Elf, tapping his pen. As Coda entered, he was instantly hit with a familiar yet imposing Psychi.

"Sorry, a Nukoro was blocking the entry hall. Can't help it," Coda murmured.

"You would’ve wet your pants if you encountered a real Nukoro. Anyway, here's your final mission before you graduate. Do well here and all your training-and my teaching-will have paid off," Staffodil said, sliding a letter across the table.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Coda said defensively, picking up the letter.

The parchment was adorned with the Roselaid Empire's standard emerald-green wax seal, fashioned with the Lipford sector's sigil: three doves, two perched on a branch and one mid-flight. Coda ripped the letter open, his hazel eyes darting across the text.

Once Staffodil decided enough time had passed, he simply asked, "So?"

"Seems simple enough. Breach the Ghoro fort east of Lipford Meadows, and take out whoever’s in char-"

"We both know you're not ready for that,” Staffodil remarked, running his hand through his blonde hair. “You may have been regarded as a prodigy during your time at the Lipford Academy, but even that is above your strength level. All you have to do is make sure the main team enters the fort safely. They will take out the 'big bad.' Is that clear?"

Coda mimicked a yawn before begrudgingly accepting the mission.

"Great. I would’ve gone if I were allowed, but unfortunately, mentors can’t accompany their students on their graduation mission. Plus, my affinity isn’t all too great for something like this. I've already briefed Vane since he was on time; he's probably on his way to Stalgate Village now. Meet with him and the main team. Please, don't do anything stupid, and please do not embarrass me."

"What do you take me for?" Coda joked.

"You don't want to know," Staffodil sighed. "Best be on your way. The sun sets very early these days," he said, standing up and motioning toward the door.

Coda gave a lazy nod of acknowledgment and exited the office, his shirt drawstrings trailing loosely behind. The birds were silent for the entire duration of his journey-a tell-tale sign of the darkness to come.

A wooded archway at the helm of a dusty road had the word STALGATE scribbled across it in discolored white. The dirt paths, once bustling with activity, exuded an eerie silence. Empty stalls littered the sides of the road. Coda sensed a potent gathering of Psychi in the distance; spotting the glint of a sword, he promptly rushed toward it.

“What took you so long?” Vane proclaimed, lowering his weapon and extending his arm in greeting.

Vane was a human of middling stature, clad simply in metal gauntlets and a purple tunic. He was nowhere near as tall as Staffodil, but much more built. Beside him was another human, taller than Vane, with a battle-worn body that nonetheless radiated youthfulness. He sported a pair of knives strapped to his waist over his chainmail. His silver eyes looked Coda up and down, his silver-blue hair fluttering in the breeze.

“So, here’s the other soon-to-be junior. I’m Gantz. Gantz Kessler. Nice to meet you. I’ll be heading the advance team, making sure the two of you don’t get into any trouble.”

“Good to see you both, too,” replied Coda, clasping Vane’s hand.

“I assume Staffodil implored you not to embarrass him again like you did in Gerrard’s Harbour?” Vane teased.

“No need to bring that up. It was barely my fault anyway,” Coda grumbled.

“I’m just joking. Let’s get this graduation mission over and done with,” Vane replied, returning to his blade.

“The main squad is just over there,” Vane said, pointing toward a trio of soldiers. “Go talk to the leader. He’ll give you a rundown. I’m just going to finish up here and go through some things with Gantz.”

Upon reaching the three soldiers, Coda searched for the most grand-looking individual. However, he should not have been looking up, but rather down. In the center stood Talavar Svard, a Driiguurd of average Psychi but incredible physical prowess. Upon his chainmail lay a belt with an assortment of devices and gadgets. On his head, he wore a horned helmet; a scar trailed from the tip of his left eye, crossing his lips down to his chin.

Coda was about to tap Talavar’s shoulder, but the man spun around before Coda could even reach him. Talavar’s face lit up, a wide smile reaching both ends of his bearded face.

“Ah! So, the academy’s prodigy finally decided to show up! And a noble, at that. Pleasure to meet you!” He exclaimed, grasping Coda’s hand with such firmness that Coda felt his bones were about to shatter.

“The pleasure… is mine, Vice-General Svard,” Coda wheezed. “And I’m barely a noble- just an offshoot of the Hastalune family,” he finished, wincing as he bowed.

“No need for honorifics, my boy. On the battlefield, we are all but soldiers fighting together,” Talavar chuckled. He waved Coda over to a large map detailing the area around the Ghoro fort. Once the debrief was over, Talavar signaled for the group to gather.

“You boys nervous?” one of the other soldiers asked. “If it’s any consolation, this is our graduation mission as well.” He pointed at himself and the other soldier accompanying Talavar.

“You don’t look like students,” Coda said with a puzzled look.

The second soldier laughed. “Graduation mission to be Senior Guard, Guro means. I’m Bastalin, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Coda, and this is Vane,” Coda said, shaking his hand, which was still sore from Talavar’s greeting.

Talavar raised his hands to Guro and Bastalin’s shoulders. “I’ve known these lads since they were my height. Watched them grow into fine warriors.”

Both men's faces became flushed, their pale skin overcome with embarrassment.

“Are you brothers?” Vane asked, noticing the closeness.

“We’re twins, actually,” they said in unison.

“Funnily enough, my wife’s about to give birth to twins soon,” Guro added. “I wonder if they’ll have any attributes.”

Coda’s eyes sparkled. “You know what would be so cool? An electricity attribute. Imagine speeding around everywhere like Caesar does. That feeling must be amazing.”

“One can only hope,” Guro concluded.

Sensing the conversation had finished, Talavar cleared his throat. ”We have little light left. We should head off now. Questions?” Upon witnessing a wave of shaken heads, Talavar hoisted his battle-axe over his shoulder.

“What do you know about the Ghoro? Specifically, the ones we’re about to encounter?” Gantz asked Coda as they marched. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m good friends with your mentor, Staffodil. Maybe he’s mentioned me?”

“Nah, he’s never mentioned you before,” Coda lied, smirking.

Gantz’s eye twitched. “After all we’ve been through, that sly bastard,” he muttered.

Staffodil shivered, dropping his pen and spraying ink all over his documents. Huh.

“Also, no, I don’t know much about those Ghoro, other than they’re bad guys, I guess,” Coda added.

“That fool Staffodil didn’t tell you? Turns out they’ve been kidnapping people from the nearby villages, mainly Stalgate and Soken. Normally they try to raid the village outright, so this is new. Hopefully the kidnapped are still alive, but if they are, what are the Ghoro doing with them? Wretched creatures, really.”

Gantz turned to Coda for a response, but Coda was busy messing with his coat pockets.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Coda asked, realizing Gantz’s eyes were trained on him. “I wasn’t listening.”

Gantz struck him on the head with the hilt of his knife. “A carbon copy of Staffodil, you are.”

“Don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Coda said, rubbing his head as Gantz hurriedly walked off to find someone more willing to listen to his drivel, his silver hair fluttering hopelessly in the wind.