“Ready?” Andy asked, finding Pliny in the reception hall on a bench near the page’s kiosk.

  “Yes, if you are,” Pliny said, rising up and stretching. “That didn’t take too terribly long.”

  Andy nodded as Pliny headed toward the front exit.

  “So, did the upgrade succeed?” Pliny asked, pushing the door open and holding it for Andy.

  “It did,” Andy said. “It’s pretty sweet, actually.”

  “Yeah? Show me.”

  They exited into College Square, making their way across the courtyard, zagging through throngs of Thrakka players and food vendors.

  “Here?” Andy said. “That won’t draw… unwanted attention?”

  “Ah, yeah,” Pliny said. “I suppose you’re right… well then tell me, what does it do?”

  “It’s a {void bolt} enchantment,” Andy said. “It doesn’t launch like a projectile or anything, but the blade takes on the {void bolt} properties. It seems like it enhances damage, and it easily deflects normal weapons. At least that’s how it shook out in the laboratory."

  “Wow,” Pliny said. “I admit, I wasn’t expecting that hot coin to be so… potent. Gambling winnings never are. I suppose you had the advantage of a very impulsive opponent during your dice game.”

  “I suppose I did,” Andy said, chuckling slightly.

  They made their way back through the long, dark alleyway. The late afternoon was fading into evening.

  “Shall we have supper?” Pliny said.

  “Sure,” said Andy. “I’m starving. Where to?”

  “Hmmmmm,” Pliny said. “Well, my recommendation is to find a place outside the walls. These restaurants are far too expensive for what they provide. Nobles may have expensive tastes, but in my experience their dining is neither satisfying nor delicious enough to justify the price tag.”

  “Sure,” Andy said. “What are you thinking?”

  “Well, tell me this… noodles or seafood?”

  “What’s the seafood like here?” Andy said.

  “Extremely delicious,” said Pliny. “A range of shellfish, tuna, cod… you name it. And the side dishes they serve on the coast… my god.”

  It seemed Pliny had lost himself in thought as they continued through the alley.

  “I’m sold,” Andy said. “Lead the way.”

  “Yes!” Pliny exclaimed in a harsh whisper. Evidently Andy had made the right choice.

  They retraced their steps through the alleyway and arrived back at the gate through which they had come.

  “We actually want to head to the eastern gate,” Pliny said. “That leads to the coastal neighborhoods where the freshest catches are. I know a place where we can get the best fried clams you’ve ever had.”

  Andy followed Pliny, who turned left down a broad, paved road lined with vendors, shoppers, and cavorters. Gentle lanterns floated mid-air, magically suspended as night began to fall, illuminating crowds below.

  They passed by several towering structures which Pliny commented on, but Andy was too distracted by all that was going on around him to grasp much of what he said. Every so often, they passed a Domestic Guard, plated in blue chrome armor, a fearsome lupine helmet, and equipped with a longsword.

  After several blocks, they reached the eastern gate. It was almost identical to the western gate. People travelled to and fro through it, with the occasional traveller being stopped and searched by a Domestic Guard. Those who were stopped didn’t seem overly bothered.

  They passed through without a problem.

  As they emerged outside the eastern wall, a gust of saltwater breeze met them. The land descended sharply toward the rocky coast. There were layers of terraces, each with buildings, marketplaces, and public works like fountains and parks, gradually descending to the harbors.

  “This is the harbor district,” Pliny said. “We want to go just a bit north to the fishing villages.”

  There was a mix of people, some in plain clothes, and others in the fine silk that had been common in the inner city. Many were doing business, haggling over fish displayed on ice, while others were simply chatting casually.

  Andy followed Pliny as they traversed the main harbor road before they quickly split off onto a dirt road that was far less populated.

  Before long, the vendors and citizens became less dense, finally dying off altogether except for the occasional fisherman carrying a long pole and tackle box.

  “Not too far ahead,” said Pliny. “I assure you, the clams are worth the walk.”

  “I believe you,” Andy said, his stomach growling involuntarily.

  They continued a mile or so. Occasionally, there was a cluster of lean-tos with families sitting around a fire or a vacant roadside farmstand.

  “Are they closed for business around here?” Andys asked.

  “Yes,” Pliny said. “Trading hours wind down early in the fisherman’s district. Most of the good catches are sold at the harbors or in the inner city. These stands will be open some mornings, for the locals here, but they’re usually closed by noon.”

  Andy noticed he hadn’t seen a Domestic Guard since the harbor. “So are we still in Cresthaven?” he asked.

  “Yes, kind of. It’s an outskirt neighborhood, like Tobston was to the west of the walls. Technically, the nobility still has political control over this area, and they levy taxes on all commerce that occurs here, at least all commerce that goes accounted for, but they don’t really spend resources to police the area or produce any public works for the residents.”

  “That seems odd,” Andy said. “Wouldn’t you want to keep your fishermen happy?”

  “Yes,” Pliny said. “But fishing has been a way of life in this region for centuries. The nobility reckons that they provide a great service to the fishermen by allowing them to purchase trading licenses to sell their catch in the harbor. In truth, it is a good opportunity for many of them.”

  “I see,” Andy said. It felt like a rip-off, though. The area here seemed to have few amenities, and the domiciles were extremely bare-bones. Was the opportunity to participate in the harbor market really adequate compensation for the work that the fishermen did to feed the city?

  I suppose it’s not my place to figure this out right now, Andy thought.

  The sun fell behind Mount Aurora on the western horizon and the stars began to make their appearances.

  Suddenly, Andy heard a frail man’s scream coming from up the road.

  “Help!”

  “Oh, dear,” Pliny said, his head perking up. “Follow me, but stay low…”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Andy ducked a bit as Pliny crouched and peered around a tree. Andy joined behind him.

  “See that ahead?” Pliny said, pointing down the path at a farmstand.

  A man dressed in plain clothes was on his knees, his hands raised above his head, while three men in leather armor, two carrying longswords and one carrying a battle axe, stood over him.

  “Yes,” Andy said.

  “Looks like garden-variety robbers,” said Pliny. “I’ve dealt with plenty of them before… they can be treacherous, but if we work together, we can take them. Are you prepared to fight?”

  Andy looked at the men. Their weapons were much larger than his, but they seemed scrawny and their armor was ill-fitted.

  He had only been training for about a week. Could he do it?

  “Yes,” Andy said.

  Pliny nodded, pleased with Andy’s confidence. “Follow my lead.”

  The three men had their backs turned toward Pliny and Andy as they approached. The kneeling man, face toward the ground, did not notice their approach.

  Pliny drew his longsword. “I suppose good manners dictates that I should allow you to face me,” he said.

  The men jumped, staggering backward as they turned around.

  “Wha–” one said as his jaw dropped and his eyes widened.

  “You said there weren’t no guards on this trail!” another said.

  “There weren’t supposed to be,” said the third, brandishing his battle axe.

  Andy got a closer look at their faces. They were quite young, maybe 25 years old maximum. They seemed genuinely caught off guard.

  “Thank the gods,” the kneeling fisherman whispered, shaking.

  “You, come here,” said Pliny, pointing to the fisherman.

  The fisherman rose up and sprinted toward them. “Thank the gods,” he said again. “Bless you.”

  “Now,” Pliny continued. “You young ones are acting tough. Would any of you like to prove yourselves in combat?”

  None of them spoke, but the one holding the battle axe growled in frustration. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, turning around.

  “No, no,” Pliny said. “Not so fast. If I let you leave, how do I know you won’t just victimize another fisherman?”

  Andy looked at the man who stood behind them. He had cuts on his cheeks, arms and hands, evidence not of a struggle, but of torture.

  “Looks like they cut him up,” Andy said.

  “And who is responsible for this man’s wounds?” Pliny said.

  One of the bandits turned to run, beginning to sprint.

  “Ah, ah,” Pliny said, shaking his head as he drew a small dagger. With incredible precision, he threw it at the retreating bandit, piercing through the man’s palm, causing him to drop his greatsword.

  “Dammit!” the man said, letting a cry escape his lips as he fell to the ground, clutching his hand and writhing in pain. “Gah!”

  “Drop your weapons and strip off your armor, and I’ll let you go,” Pliny said.

  “It’s a longsword and a battleaxe against a longsword and a shortsword,” a bandit said.

  Andy drew his shortsword. He brushed his finger over the talisman and willed the {void bolt} to life. Eldritch energy crackled as it began encircling the blade.

  Both bandit’s eyes went wide.

  “My associate here has just upgraded his weapon,” said Pliny. “We’ve walked all the way from the Enchanter’s College just to get some fried clams, and you’re really causing us an inconvenience. Now, drop your weapons and strip off your armor.”

  “Eat shit!” the axe-wielding bandit said as he reached into a pocket and produced an eerie green glowing stone. “You’re not the only one with enchantments!” He threw the rock down in front of Pliny and Andy. “{Green Knight summon}, activate!” he cried.

  The green stone glowed brightly as a burst of energy shot upward, coalescing into a hulking green warrior, clad in full plate armor and armed with a two-handed greatsword.

  The knight stepped out of the energetic rift that had opened up, stepping onto the ground in fully physical form and raising its sword.

  “Watch out!” Pliny said as he stepped in front of Andy, attempting to block the knight’s greatsword attack with his longsword.

  The knight cut straight through Pliny’s longsword, sending the top of the blade hurling off the path and knocking him to the ground.

  “Yes!” the bandit cried, “Finish him! Finish him!”

  The ghostly knight raised his greatsword again, bringing it down onto Pliny.

  Andy leapt in, raising his {void bolt} enchanted shortsword. As the knight’s blade came down, Andy intercepted it with his own.

  The knight’s sword reacted violently, flying backward. The knight, too, stumbled backward.

  “What?! NO!” the bandit cried.

  “Good god,” Pliny said, coughing as he caught his breath. “That little sword is more powerful than I thought.”

  The knight began to flicker in and out of existence before vanishing back into the stone suddenly.

  “Dammit!” cried the bandit.

  “I told you you didn’t have enough charge to use it tonight!” said the other bandit.

  The axe-wielding bandit turned around and sprinted, leaving the stone in the middle of the dirt path.

  The other bandit picked his wounded comrade off the ground, following closely behind the axeman.

  “Should I follow them?” Andy asked?

  “No,” Pliny said. “I think we did okay. They’ve been wounded and chastised. We’ve injured one, and another has lost a summoning stone. I think we count this as a win.”

  Andy nodded as he sheathed his sword.

  “Oh, gods,” the fisherman said. “Thank you, thank you.”

  Pliny stood up, looking at the remains of the shattered blade that protruded from the hilt of his longsword. He shrugged as he fastened it to his belt and trudged forward, bending down to pick up the longsword that he had knocked from the enemy’s hand moments earlier. “I suppose this will do for now,” he said, testing its balance.

  Andy looked at the green stone on the ground, no longer glowing. He picked it up. It appeared to be polished emerald, imperfectly spherical and about the size of a golfball. It had several runic etchings in gold at various points on its surface.

  “A summoning stone,” said Pliny, walking back. “That is a variation I haven’t seen before, but I’ve heard about them.”

  “What does it do?” Andy asked.

  “Well, it's another enchantment, but this one usually requires the cooperation of a powerful Wizard to create, unless of course the Enchanter has access to S-tier wizard spells. With a summoning stone, you can bind an astral familiar to a set of runes and call them forth when help is needed, but as you saw, it only works if the stone has a charge to it.”

  Andy nodded.

  “Not a bad haul of loot for three scrawny cowards,” Pliny said.

  Andy looked at the summoning stone. Sure, he could use it to defend himself in a tricky situation, but he had access to so much. He had already gotten an enchanted sword, a satchel of gold, and a summoning stone, and he had only just achieved level 3.

  He recalled the oath he had read back in Morwen’s den… to defend the defenseless.

  “Here,” he said, holding the stone out to the fisherman. “Take this.”

  “Wha– no… no I couldn’t,” he said.

  “Please,” Andy said. “You don’t have guards here, you don’t have armor or fine weapons. If they come back, what’s to stop them from taking everything you have?”

  The fisherman looked puzzled for a moment, then he reached his hand out, accepting the stone.

  “Thank you,” he said, looking Andy straight in the eyes. “I will not forget this.”

  ***

  Pliny and Andy finally made it to their destination, a small boardwalk with a restaurant called Butter & Brine. The atmosphere was cozy and warm. The fried clams were, as Pliny had promised, delicious, especially when dipped in the tomato cream sauce served alongside them. The ale was cold and the music was lovely.

  “Well,” Pliny said, stuffing the last dinner roll into his mouth and taking a final swig of ale, “I suppose we’ll get back to an inn, there’s one just off the boardwalk here. Inexpensive, comfortable, and there’s always a vacancy. Then, tomorrow, I’ll take you to Gerran's gym.”

  Andy finished his mug of ale, enjoying the warm sounds of the string band playing in the corner. “That sounds good,” he said. “I could sleep for a week.”

  “Well, I’m afraid a night is all you’re going to get,” said Pliny, chuckling.

  “Do you think I’m going to do okay with Gerran?” Andy asked. He was almost immediately embarrassed by the question when he realized how insecure it sounded.

  “I think you’re going to do just fine,” Pliny said. “You’ve got the main thing you need to be a Fighter.”

  “What’s that?” Andy asked.

  “A generous heart, a concern for others,” said Pliny. “That will keep you motivated. Many aspiring fighters are in it for self-enrichment, or to lord power over other people. They’re in it for self-satisfaction. But I can already see, you’ve got a true Fighter’s spirit.

  Andy nodded, a bit embarrassed by the compliment.

  “You’ll do fine training with Gerran,” Pliny said. “And, should you wish to enter the Order down the road… well, I think you’d be a good fit.”

  ***

  END Part I of Vol. 1

  ***

  We hit #42 on Rising Stars for Slice of Life! Woohoo!