FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter length: 5,383 words

Current novel length: 146,616 words

Chapter 44

(Septham 12th Year 672 of the 4th Age)

(Reginus)

Wasting no time in following the tip from Lumir, Reginus and his posse arrive at the village of Catry. There's not much to this village other than the soil is suitable for mainly growing wheat with a few patches of fruits and vegetables and an old, but still operational, windmill for converting the grain into flour. A statue depicting the god of farming and fertility, Alar, stands on top of the well at the center of the settlement. The village is also peaceful, with only five trained guards for maintaining order, but they consider themselves lucky that they are in one of the most manageable parts of Adoran to watch over, and they are living an easy life. The only work they ever do is aiding the haul of sacks of flour and fixing broken pieces of wood.

Since nothing exciting ever happens in Catry, the villagers watch with interest at the newcomers, and their interests further increase after confirming that they are Cerths. The guards do their best to be as menacing as they can so the Farlanders don't cause any trouble, although they are really putting in the effort to mask their fear. One villager, a man in his late fifties-early sixties with a cane, steps forward to greet Reginus and his crew; Reginus dismounts his horse to be on the same level as the senescent man, and he sizes up the threat level of the guards.

“You must be the leader of this village," Reginus said, and he caught himself about to say “Secii."

“Unofficially, yes," the man answered. “I'm Serney."

“Reginus. What happened to the official chief?"

“We never had one, to begin with. It's been that way since the founding of the village. Each member cooperates with one another and offers aid or tips to struggling members, and we see no need to fix it. I just happened to have an aura that drew them in, and it became an unspoken statement, but I never considered myself to be one."

A strange way of running a village; each settlement or organization needs a leader, or it ceases to exist. “My men and I would like to ask a question."

“And I have an answer, albeit it's incorrect most likely."

“We're searching for two people. One is similar to us and is older than the other, who is a mix between Adoranian and us. We received a tip from a bard that they may have been here. Have you or anyone else in the village seen them recently?"

Serney shakes his head immediately. “You gentlemen are the first Farlanders… I mean Cerths or half Cerths in the village since decades ago at least."

Etiiiux Iridii. “Thank you for the information. We'll leave you in peace." Mounting his steed, Reginus issues a command to his men, “We'll reverse direction and continue down the road further back. Maybe he left a path we can track."

As they ride their horses back the way they came, Serney waves and issues them a farewell, “May the gods guide and bless you on your quest for success."

Reginus and the rest of the party retrace their steps back to where they branch off the main path initially and continue down it. Later on, they smell a scintilla amount of a putrid substance. The further they continue, the more egregious the scent, and it escalates to the point where they attempt to cover their nose. Before long, they discover the three deceased owlbears as the origin of the rancid smell. Everyone dismounts their horses and inspects the creatures' afflictions.

“Irdiobi Vallo etic Tylon ervthiix, Reginus?" one of Cerths asked.

“Maratiqii, Ambaxius," Reginus answered. He commands the group to divide in half, “Reii owlbears ervkeax. Ivxkeax ab'treai owlbear."

For the two owlbears Reginus's men inspect, there are lacerations on the bodies from bites and claws from a different creature. On the other owlbear, Reginus notices the injuries are from an arrow or a crossbow bolt. Further inspecting the locus reveals four different sets of footprints separate from the owlbears. One array starts off as human before transforming into a wolf, and another parcel is from a person with stubby legs.

“Garamv'oeti," Reginus commented. “Abmí reii vxiks oeti etic oeti síxlon erascus."

“Ertoxvi ne heo ga," Ambaxius pointed out. “Cairon ab'owlbears etic ix autbix ga oeti. Piirok."

Reginus commands Ambaxius and the rest of the party, pondering the unusual owlbear activity, “Ab'ovatas tí owlbears tucata evx."

The trail of owlbear footprints leads the Cerths to the site of a fight that is more massacre than a battle. Broken wagons and decaying remains of humans and horses litter the land with blood staining the ground red. Most of the thirty-five human corpses are adults, except for two children next to the carcasses of a male and a female wearing fancy, torn clothes; the Cerths presume a family of four. One oddity the Cerths notice is the number of valuables remaining. At initial glance, none were stolen, which ruled out a robbery and the possibility the owlbears were part of a bandit camp. Further inspection confirms their theory and consequently fills their head with more questions.

“Esi na nitilik," Ambaxius wondered. “Oc slaturii ek'karneit ab'owlbears?"

Reginus and the entire posse share the same question. No sense in letting the treasure go to waste. They certainly don't need it now. “Ab'veoaltan euxdíxteiiv, as many as we can possibly carry."

“Ab'iri ivxéri, Reginus!" One of the other Cerths directs everyone else's attention at a plume of ebony smoke in the direction of Catry.

It's brand new. The village must be under attack, Reginus thought. “We're running back to Catry. If we're fast enough, maybe we can save some of the villagers."

“Secii Licnos and Ateano, your father, gave us orders to track Vallo, kill him, and return Tylon back to our camp," Ambaxius pointed out to Reginus. “Catry has nothing useful in our quest, and why would we involve ourselves in trivial matters outside our homeland? It'll only delay us and further jeopardize our mission."

He's right. We have nothing to gain for risking our quest by aiding the villagers, and the commands of our leaders are our first priority. However, it has zero protection, and the people will surely perish, just like Merkash. Ambaxius and the rest of the group eagerly wait for Reginus's command while they watch him ponder. After deliberating with himself, Reginus ultimately comes to a decision. “It's their problem, not ours. We'll resume our pursuit on Vallo. If we encounter the culprits behind the attack along the way, we'll exterminate them."

(Grifo, Heilim, Tylon)

With one day remaining of their journey to Siartin, Grifo, Heilim, and Tylon are fatigued, with Grifo and Tylon prostrating themselves when they prepare their camp for the night. Patches of clouds in the sky occasionally adumbrate the light from the half-moon. Heilim orders them to accumulate firewood and ignite a campfire while he ties Scarlette to a tree branch. Since their meals primarily consist of rations and they're traveling at a blistering pace, it is a welcoming sight for them to see a pot of squirrel stew from the rodents of Tylon's hunt and inhale the aroma; each of their stomachs makes an audible growl sound.

Tearing meat off the bone, Grifo, Heilim, and Tylon consume their meal, virtually emptying the entire kettle, and Grifo and Tylon rest their backs against a tree, delighted by their full stomach. They soon commence expelling gas through their mouths, and it escalates into a contest. In one decisive action, Heilim concludes it by making his eructation stentorian enough that it echoes for a few seconds, and the sounds of nearby insects cease.

Staring at the sky, Tylon points at a constellation of stars through a broad aperture in the clouds. “I believe I see a wolf up there."

“Where?" asked Grifo with enthusiasm.

“There." Tracing the path connecting the stars, Tylon guides Grifo. “Just connect these, and you should see it."

“There it is! Judging by its silhouette, it must be Fenrarg."

“That's because it is," Heilim responded.

“I never would have pegged you as someone who was into constellations," replied Grifo.

“Besides this one exception, I'm not," Heilim said as he laid in between Grifo and Tylon. “There should be a constellation of a man wielding a greatsword and shield nearby. Ah-ha!" He points at another constellation nearby to Fenrarg.

“What's that called?" Tylon inquired to Heilim.

“That is Üralgr, Fenrarg's arch-enemy," Heilim explains further about the story between the two constellations. “According to Skarthian legend, Fenrarg was imprisoned for ripping Tÿt's head off with his teeth, but he escaped and went on a rampage. Üraglr, son and champion of Oltän, sacrificed himself in a duel against Fenrarg by sealing him and himself in a different realm. They are still engaging in combat to this very day, and as long the two constellations are in the sky, they're still fighting. There is a prophecy that Üralgr will succumb in battle and Fenrarg will escape again, triggering Argavatïkusion. If the constellation of Fenrarg is in the sky and Üralgr isn't, then Fenrarg won, and the apocalypse is underway. But that's the Skarth's religion, so it's most likely nonsense."

“But, you said Fenra and Lymis had a father, and they're part of the Church of Salvation, so there must be something the Church has on him," Tylon pointed out.

“The Church loves to steal from other religions if the members didn't decide to wipe them out first. The Church's version has Fenrarg imprisoned, but the members don't refer to him by that name; they refer to him as Lupek. In their version, Lupek was a loyal companion to an angel named Pahaliah, and together, staved off an incursion from the Nine Hells led by archdevil of the Third Layer, Mamyron. Pahaliah lost her life in the process. That drove Lupek insane, and the other gods imprisoned him as a weapon of sorts as a result. The constellations were made as a memorial to them.

“Now, as for Fenra and Lymis, in case you were wondering, there are two versions, the Church and Skarths. For Skarthian interpretation, they were born immediately after Üralgr castrated Fenrarg, and they each are one of his testicles. Hältï, aka Fenra, was born evil and Salerka, aka Lymis, was the complete opposite. In the Church's account, Lupek and Pahaliah had sex, and she gave birth to twins. During Mamyron's invasion, Mamyron successfully brainwashed Fenra to join the evil faction; some believed that Pahaliah became devastated enough that she dropped her guard and died, adding more strain to Lupek's psyche; before he snapped."

“Who consisted of Fenrarg's/Lupek's army?" Tylon asked.

“People with his gift of lycanthropy and wolves were in his army," Heilim answered. “Did I explain everything correctly, Grifo?"

“Sums up all my current knowledge. You only forgot to add Fenri to the list of his army."

“The Fenri?"

“They're bipedal wolves, basically."

“I actually met two of them awhile ago."

“I love to hear about this."

“Long story short, they rescued me from a contract gone to shit. Now you probably think why I didn't use my Skin Changer form to salvage it. The reason was there were too many people that could've scattered and spread the news. The last thing I want is the Knights of Kyren breathing down my neck and going through the tedious task of explaining myself. Lymis and Kyren are united, begrudgingly, under combating evil, but Kyren absolutely refuses to allow some touches of evil in her ranks, whereas Lymis does with lycanthropy."

As night rolls on, travel fatigue finally takes its toll on Grifo, Heilim, and Tylon. They come to an agreement that Grifo and Tylon will stay up for three hours, and Heilim will stay up for the rest of the night. While Heilim is asleep, Grifo and Tylon initiate a conversation to kill time.

“What's your story?" Grifo inquired.

Tylon's addle at the question. “Story?"

“Yes, story. I know by your features that you are at least half Farlander unless you desire half Certh instead and half Adoranian, so that fascinates me, and I'm enthralled at the fact that you are with him. I like to know the circumstances if you don't mind."

“I don't know anything about my parents except, as you pointed out, one is a Certh, and the other is Adoranian. According to the leader of my former village, he found me on the side of a road, abandoned. Despite his urgings, no one treated me like one of their own. I was a cithvn to them, an outsider. When Heilim came for me because of a contract, I took the opportunity to leave without hesitation; I figured I would fare better away from the village and the Wall with him. Though my time out here is unsubstantial, I barely notice any hostility towards Heilim or me due to being a Farlander. What's your story? Why do you like to talk to people so much, and why are you cheerful?"

“I am the youngest of five children with three sisters and a brother. I was born in Crisea, and my family was forced to relocate due to a war between Pheha and Adoran fifty years ago; we ended up in a city in Sennelan called Acretes. I read many books on famous explorers and adventurers that I set off and explored the world described in them when I came of age. I traveled through Adoran, Sennelan, and the other nations on the Meriderthan Sea besides Pheha. I struck up conversations with people of diversified races to learn the traditions and customs of the location I was at because I was born a garrulous Halfling. I jotted notes down for future writings at first; their life stories intrigued me. As for my jocundity, life's shitty almost nonstop, so I take everything in stride or else the stress will result in me having a premature heart attack."

“Has Heilim revealed his story to you, and how did he let you join him?"

“He's a taciturn person, so I don't know everything, but after years spent with him, I know beneath his dour exterior is a gentle, good-hearted person… when he wants to. When he's ready, he'll tell us. As for me meeting him and him permitting me to join, this will be a lengthy story, so get comfortable. It started twenty years ago…"

(Avrew 12th Year 652 of the 4th Age)

It is a rainy night at the Frollicking Horse when Grifo enters inside. It is mainly packed inside; the bar area is impossible for a vacuous seat, but he manages to locate a spot, and he takes it. He orders the special for the entreé, Shepard's pie and a pint of mead, along with a vast gallimaufry of cheeses for an appetizer.

Among the gossipy crowd is a male, saturnine Farlander at a table with crumbs of food on an empty plate, and he sips his beverage from a mug. He doesn't pay any attention to the Halfling, who dances around the room, playing the harp, and singing a couple of songs. The first is about a stalwart folk hero named Nit and his heroic exploits but is always on the run from the law after sleeping with female nobility. The second is about a jester to Emperor Mavat in the Sarahat Empire who becomes mute after telling a joke that ended terribly; Mavat orders the removal of his tongue.

When he is done with his performance, the patrons cheer, applaud, and toss coins towards Grifo.

“Thank you. Thank you. You're too generous," Grifo said. Grifo notices the Certh is still in his somber mood. Maybe I can cheer this fellow up and brighten up the rest of his day and perhaps tomorrow. He sat in a seat directly across from him. “What has you down in the dumps?"

“What's it to you?"

I see I need to moil with him to reach the root cause of his spirit. A barmaid walks past the table with an order, and when she returns, Grifo caught her attention. “Another pint of mead for me and another round for him of whatever it is he's having; it's on me," he ordered, and she left.

“You didn't have to do that," the Certh responded.

“I consider it customary to treat someone I'm trying to get to know." The barmaid drops off their beverages. “Much appreciated," Grifo responded before he focused on the Certh. “At least tell me your name."

“Heilim," the Certh answered.

“Unusual name for a Farlander."

“Don't call me that."

“If you insist. Heilim… I heard tales of someone with the same name as you."

“Good or bad?"

“Depends on a person's perspective. As for me, the stories I heard left me with a negative impression of him aside from one; but I reserve my final judgment until I know him."

“What sort of stories have you heard?"

“He leaves carnage behind wherever he goes; he massacred an entire caravan for an elite family, including the actual family, as an example. The one I find the most captivating is he's the Wolf of Volgoryevsk for his effort at stalling Orlénish forces for two days, allowing Ruskish forces and civilians time to flee. Some say he's a portion of reasons why Orlén is on the retreat right now."

“Had I known, I might've changed my name."

“What brings someone like you out to the tiny village of Pimok near the Sennelanian and Adoranian border? From my understanding, the Cerths don't travel far from their lands for multiple reasons."

“I'm searching for answers."

“Answers to what?"

“None of your business."

“Fair enough. Mind if I tag along with you on your quest? I know just by looking at you that you're aching for a companion, and I'll be delighted to be of service."

“I enjoy my solitary lifestyle."

“Do you? Deep down, I know that-"

“Nope, don't feel it deep down."

“I'll make you a deal. If I can force you to laugh with one of my three jokes, you'll agree to let me join you. If not, then this will be the last place you'll see me."

This will be the most straightforward deal ever. “I'm game."

“Stupendous. Joke number one. An Elf, a Dwarf, and a Goliath are in a dungeon. It is a hellish experience for them with devious traps and gauntlets of enemies. When they kill the final boss of the room, the Elf and the Dwarf throw little jokes and insults at each other in jest while the Goliath is inspecting their loot, but they agree that they won't do a dungeon like that ever again. Among the treasures available, one was an item that can grant three wishes. The Elf, Dwarf, and Goliath agree to split it evenly, so they each have one wish. The Dwarf wishes for all the ale he can handle, while the Elf wishes to rid himself of the disease plaguing him. Before the Goliath makes his wish, he turns to his companions and says sarcastically, “I don't know about you two, but I had fun going through the dungeon. I wish we can do it all over again.""

Heilim remains stoic. “Already heard that joke."

“How about this?" The second joke has zero effect on Heilim.

“One more attempt," taunted Heilim.

“I need to pull out the stops for this one." Before Grifo can commence his final joke, four men enter the tavern, and he recognizes them. Ah shit. “It was a pleasure talking to you, Heilim. I'll leave you in peace."

“What's the rush?" Heilim asked. “You still have one more joke."

“It dawned on me that I have something important to tend to, and the time window for it is tiny." Despite Grifo's best efforts at stealth to remove traces of his presence, one of the four men spots him and alerts the others; they gather at Heilim's table before Grifo can escape.

“Grifo Longwood," one of the men stated, “just the Halfling we're looking for."

“I had no idea I was of great importance to you, Duvil," Grifo responded.

“You know why you are, though, so let's skip the dialogue and get down to business."

“If you're that agog about it, I'll only do it in the bedroom or the equivalent of it in terms of privacy. I won't mind your three companions participating too."

Duvil reveals his greatsword that Heilim notes is too large for him to wield correctly. “I didn't come all this way for that, ankle-biter; I came to avenge my girlfriend," Duvil said.

“With what you're wielding, no wonder why she said I had more impact on her than you in bed," Grifo mocked, prompting Heilim to choke on his beverage.

“I will not let some armrest insult me like that. I'll cut your tongue and force-feed it to you before I end your life."

“Let's not get too hasty here, folks," Heilim said to defuse the tension.

“Mind your own business, Farlander," Duvil warned.

“Sort of impossible when I'm surrounded by people that aren't quiet whatsoever."

“Maybe I'll make you suffer the same fate as Grifo."

“Maybe I'll encourage you to rethink your plan."

“You don't scare me. What's your name?"

“Heilim."

One of Duvil's cronies suddenly has cold feet. “This isn't worth it, man. Let's forget this incident and move on."

“I'd heed his advice if I was you," Heilim said as he casually quenched his thirst.

“You really are a pussy, Kremmer. You were just as enthusiastic as I was. Now you turn yellow at the mention of his name that just so happens to share with the Mad Butcher. I heard he was somewhere in Lutis recently; there's a great distance between him and us."

“Those are rumors, and rumors tend to be misleading," Heilim pointed out.

“The real Heilim has eyes that change to gold because of his curse. If you ask me, the Church should purge him from existence." Divul then noticed a necklace around Heilim's neck. “Nice looking necklace."

“Thanks."

“Could fetch a fortune depending on the buyer."

“Not… for… sale." Each word Heilim said was lower and more threatening than the last.

Divul doesn't heed Heilim's warning and attempts to snag the necklace. “Would be a shame if something ba… ahhhh!" In one flash of motion, Heilim slices Divul's right hand off of him; blood sprays everywhere as Divul bolts out of the tavern screaming in agony, looking for help, and two of his comrades rush out in panic and also to aid him. The reluctant man and Grifo notice the gold irises in Heilim as he wields his sword; the man slowly backs away from Heilim in a defensive gesture.

“Apologies for the sudden escalation," Heilim said to everyone in the tavern, but more towards the owner.

“That prick had been a menace to us for a long time; finally, someone had the balls to do what was needed to be done and taught him a lesson," the owner replied nonchalantly as he cleaned the countertop. “Just clean up the blood, and we'll call it even." Heilim does, and the tavern is nearly empty as it nears closing time for the kitchen when he finishes; only Grifo and three late customers remain.

“My eyes must deceive me, but you're the real Heilim," Grifo said when Heilim was finally done with his work.

“Indeed I am," Heilim replied.

“I guess I'll go my separate way," Grifo said while he gathered his belongings.

“How come?"

“I failed to make you laugh."

“To be fair, I would've when you made a comment about his penis size, but I choked on my beverage. I guess this means you and I will travel together for a while."

(Present Day)

“And that was how he and I met and the beginnings of numerous stories during our travels," Grifo concluded with Tylon mesmerized by his narration.

When Tylon reverts back to reality, he asks, “What caused you two to split?"

“Personal life events mostly and time."

“I need to know the story between him and the succubus."

“I'll reveal that and more in due time."

“Tomorrow, we'll reach Siartin, and who knows what'll happen to me when I reach to whoever wants me in the first place."

“You don't know who wants you?"

“All I know is she is Adoranian and powerful. Heilim's not a talkative person."

“That's still the same all these years."

“I'm actually anxious about meeting this person and what she wants to do."

“The mind fills the void of the unknown, and what we fill is mostly worse than actual reality, but we fear our illusions enough to hide behind the safety of what we accept as true. Now, you want to hear about the succubus?"

“Yes!"

“Ok, it all started when…" It takes Grifo to the near end of their watch to finish his story. Tylon has to stifle a chuckle or two during some of the embarrassing parts of Heilim. When Grifo finally ends his story, they wake up Heilim from his slumber and change shifts. Alone, Heilim strikes up a conversation with something inside him.

You in there, Conall?

A monstrous voice and a figure of a werewolf appear in his head. Heilim. It's been a while since we last had a conversation; I started to think you forgot all about me.

Been busy lately.

I was bored out of my mind, twiddling my thumbs while you were occupied.

I call bullshit on that. You were most likely running around in Lymis's realm fucking every female you came across.

Grrr. Have you delivered that boy, or is he still around?

Still with me.

You know I dislike escort missions.

Ditto, but there was a hefty reward for the completion that I couldn't pass up. Additionally, the employer contacted me directly and said she had info for my quest.

Sounds like she's desperate for the boy.

She said Tylon would play a pivotal role for the future, and his life's in jeopardy in the Cerths' hands.

My bet is she wants to consume him.

That's not funny, Moon Moon.

Don't call me that!

Then cut it with the vore talk.

Ok, I'm beginning to think that you're growing soft because of him.

_I'm not; I could care less if the woman wants him for slavery as long as her info is legitimate and pays the full reward. _

Whatever you say. Just remember that we're the outcasts of society; our survival is at stake, and we only have each other to rely on. Any fuck ups could end us.

I haven't.

(Eryce, Malfias, Shung)

At the Hearthrow Estate, Shung is watering his plants in his own personal garden consisting primarily of flowers and herbs but has tomatoes, peppers of various heat levels, and cabbages. After he completes tending the garden, he meditates under a tree that is native to his birth country of Hu-Jan, then transitioning to some gentle, elegant movements. As part of his exercise, he knocks twenty leaves off the tree by hitting and, with his quick reflexes, catches every single leaf before it touches the ground. Before moving on to the following exercise routine, Malfias distracts him with slow clapping.

“Impressive ritual you just did," Malfias said.

“Don't want my skills getting dull, plus it calms my mind instead of other vices people flock to," Shung replied. “I suspect you're here for news, and for once, I have one already about the baron—two in fact. First, you're correct; Edreth isn't Edreth. What is he? I don't fully know yet, but there's a corpse outside Belburn that I can fully confirm to be the real Edreth due to a gold tooth in his mouth while finding out at the same time the fake was at Diamond Financial today."

“And the second?"

“A group of people is also investigating him: Aila and Radclyff, their son Barion, and Jemeir. They believe that he may be a Rakshasa and mastermind behind an attack on Radclyff's family a while ago."

Malfias wanders back and forth, processing the new information. “A Rakshasa… here in Belburn, and another party is also after him." He smiles slightly after formulating a plan. “They'll save me all the hassle dealing with him, and they may kill themselves in the process. Once he's out of the picture, I can move and plant Envarn as the baron and have one less item nagging me at the Summit."

“My sources tell me that it's going to be quite the get-together."

“Members of the seven most prominent families in Illyria plus members of the minor families will be there, even the overgrown kobolds of the Gaaruuks, to discuss matters about Adoran mostly. My father, Kywell Hearthrow, sent me a letter stating he'll be there along with my brothers Sylas and Teodric."

“That will surely rile a few feathers from the other families."

“And I want you there also as an advisor."

“Me as an advisor at the Summit? Oh no, I don't think I'm capable of that major responsibility." My talents are best suited here at the moment.

“Nonsense. You've been a boon to my family ever since my father took you in. Your vast network of intelligence gathering will be useful when it comes to the Summit."

“I'm afraid my days of long travels are long gone."

“Then I can switch the location of the Summit to here. I'll send word of the changes to the other participants, and they'll still have time to make it."

That would be disastrous too. “Or have someone else take my place. There's plenty to select from."

“I suppose I can bring someone else." Malfias leaves Shung in peace with nothing left to discuss before taking a brief pause in his steps to think. Perhaps Petryke Mittle. After he leaves, Shung resumes his meditation by crossing his legs, closing his eyes, and taking slow, deep breaths focusing on his surroundings. A few minutes later, Eryce saunters in and casually strolls around the garden, sniffing at some of the various flowers and plants.

“You heard everything in the conversation, haven't you?" Shung asked without breaking his meditation.

“Still perceptive as always," Eryce responded after she removed her nose from a purple flower.

“I make sure my senses are as sharp as they can be. Now, what is the reason why you grace me with your presence? I highly doubt you all of a sudden gained an appreciation for gardening." Eryce and Shung take another stroll through the garden.

“It's Malfias. He believes that I am nothing more than a piece on a game board to manipulate. I love him, but it's tiring not to have a single opportunity to prove that I am just as capable as him in the game."

“That game. The one where it is best to actually be a pawn instead of a player because the objective is simple and offers a great reward, which entices many people since the dawn of Illyria's creation, but the mechanics are complex and ruthless. It will punish those who can't grasp it, frequently severely."

“Sounds like you doubt me as well."

“It is not me that believes that, but the Game, on the other hand, knows who's skillful and who isn't, and it preys on the latter crowd the most."

“You must have first-hand experience."

They end at a fish pond with a mini-waterfall. “How'd you think I ended up here? I played it once, and I had to leave after discovering what a beast it truly was and what it did to players. Your father was the first opportunity for me to escape, and I took it without hesitation. Now, I can devote my time to what I care most about and find another path."

“Can you teach me, so I don't end up like the others?"

“I can offer a few tips, with the most crucial being this. Paint a vivid picture of everything you have and cherish. Now imagine it going up in flames, and you have nothing. Do you wish to play, still?"

“Yes."

Feel free to vote, comment, favorite, and spread the word.