Nefelden Mountain Range, South of Nefelden, Kingdom of Alkhana

The clear night sky shimmered high above the quiet forest, stars glittering silently above the dark woods, their light glittering off of the droplets of water that clung to the needles of the trees from the previous day’s rain. The forest overlooked a small valley and the city that sat nestled within. The smell of rain hung in the air, tickling the nose of a traveler who happened to be passing through.

The traveler, a tall, powerfully built jaguar-like Dynthe male, continued down the cobblestone path that curved through the forest and into the valley, his keen feline eyes piercing through the suffocating darkness. A long, black sword hung on the belt at his side, clanking against his heavy armor as he sought out a place to make camp as he followed the trail towards the city, his tail flicking in exhausted frustration.

Eventually the Dynthe came upon a sizable trail of beaten earth, an offshoot of the main road that he recognized from his days among the followers of his adoptive father. He breathed a sigh of relief, his tail relaxing slightly. The trail led to a place used frequently by his adoptive father’s warriors, so frequently that neither animal or fiend dared threaten those who camped there. The Dynthe followed the trail, remembering his days among Asterion’s warriors.

The Minotaur God’s followers were a friendly sort, who never refused the company of others if they could help it (or their beds. They were... a FRIENDLY sort). However, they devoted their lives entirely to constant questing, seeking battle after battle in an effort to make the world a better place. The jaguar dynthe appreciated them, and kept to their beliefs- but preferred the freedom and quiet and relative peace of travelling alone. He left with his adoptive father’s blessing, and couldn’t be more grateful to the god of Benevolent Warriors.

Eventually, the Dynthe found the clearing that he remembered so clearly from then. A sizable opening in the woods, filled with the remnants of campfires. The jaguar dropped his large leather bag onto a patch of grass, setting up his tent a few meters away from one of the circles of stone. He placed a wide log as a seat, then gathered up bits of wood from the surrounding forest. Once he returned, he took one of the longer sticks, and, stabbing it into the dirt, drew a large circle, surrounding the campsite. Uttering an unintelligible word, he returned his focus to the firepit.

The dynthe built his fire, then removed a smaller pouch from his bag alongside a small piece of parchment, a letter from one of the book-keepers who lived in the city. Chewing on a piece of jerky pulled from the pouch, the Dynthe read the letter using the firelight.


Drahl,
It is a delight to hear from you after all this time! I have found the book you requested from my collection, and have set it aside from the rest. Please visit my bookshop in Nefelden to pick it up on or around the first week of Baharyss. If I am not present at the time, please speak with my son. He knows where it is, and should bring it to you without issue.


‘Tis a delight to do business with you,
Sincerely, Alubard Braun.


A Note: Alubard and Son’s can be found on the right hand corner of Destir’s Street, on the southern side of town.

The dynthe, Drahl, folded the letter up and chewed on his jerky. With a contented sigh, the jaguar spent some time staring at the stars, before finally succumbing to exhaustion and retreating to his tent…

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Destir’s Street, South Side of Nefelden, Kingdom of Alkhana

Lucian sat at his father’s desk, looking over the volume titled Of the Archons’ Wrath. Not much of it made sense to him, but after hearing about the Archons from a traveler some weeks ago, he decided to do some reading.

“The Archons, as the most massive of the fiends have been called, are creatures composed entirely of Miasma. When one appears, all other fiends in its territory bow to its commands. There have been eight Archons recorded throughout the history of Elgathæa, each one believed to be a reflection of a Rhemnan god.

As Archons are composed entirely of Miasma, they do not seem to require sustenance so long they or their followers (fiends and practitioners of Miasmabinding, the reverse of magick) create an appropriate amount of chaos within the region they inhabit. This chaos- which can include attacks on mortals and normal animals, seemingly produces the malevolent energy in startling quantities."

Lucian possessed no clue as to what the book referred to when it spoke of “Miasma”. From his understanding, a Miasma was a type of toxic gas. However, in the context of the Archons, he believed it to be something much less mundane, possibly even magickal. However, the book gave him the feeling that Miasma happened to be far more sinister than whatever powered magick.

With a sigh, the bookkeeper’s son closed the book, feeling frustrated that his time with the volume was soon to be cut short. He wished he found it sooner. He now felt reluctant to follow his father’s instructions.

His father left the previous evening, receiving confirmation from one of his business partners that one of their old acquaintances possessed a book that Alubard had been searching for. When Alubard received the message, he promptly moved to travel across the city in an effort to conduct business and obtain the valued book. Lucian later received a letter by carrier bird- his father would be negotiating over night.

Which meant that business sat upon Lucian’s shoulders.

The young man stood up, placing the book back on his father’s desk and doing his daily chores. No one entered yet, so Lucian dusted the book shelves the best he could, and then swept any debris from the floor using a straw broom he took from the tall cabinet next to his father’s desk.