Really, Rem found all of it quite fascinating.
As the crowd dispersed, Remley grabbed the attention of the strange newcomer before he managed to disappear back into the city’s depths. He was certain that Leila would not be pleased with him bringing another outrealmer into their crew, but what was he to do? They’d lost Rothus on their last expedition and he’d be damned if he’d they were going to dungeon dive a man short! And besides, this man just looked so familiar…
As the man wandered over, Remley began to strike up a conversation, hoping to make things rather quick and easy. After all, he was quite hungry and found small talk to be rather boring. Remley chatted with the outrealmer for a moment and was certain he’d nearly convinced the man to come along. That is until he was rudely interrupted by a trio of uninvited guests. His spirit sense flared and he turned his head to the side as three burly-looking adepts made their approach.
The remaining butchers of the blackdog guild had arrived.
“You’re going to pay for that,” the largest and most rotund of the butchers yelled as he reached for his belt and retrieved his knives. Remley rolled his eyes as he walked to the stranger’s side, hands resting in his jacket pockets. By the gods, he hadn’t even learned the man’s name yet…
Why couldn’t things ever be easy?
****
Roy tensed as the trio of blackdog butchers approached, looks of outrage etched into each of their round faces. The largest of the men began to spout threats as he pulled out a pair of butchering knives and rubbed them together, sending a shower of sparks onto the smooth, stone road. Of all the enemies he could’ve made, of course it had to be a group of crazed knife-wielding butchers.
Without a lot of options before him, Roy fell into a fighting stance and raised his fists. He couldn’t recuse himself from the fight and bowing to these men would only give their blades a quicker path to his neck.
“Boys, boys…” Remley’s voice interjected as the butchers began to move in. “You surely don’t mean to bring harm to my friend here, do you?”
“That piece of filth attacked Rojiro and brought dishonor to our guild!” one of the butchers spat.
Remley grinned. “If Rojiro was beaten by a piece of filth, then perhaps he is the source of your guild’s dishonor, not the filth in question.”
The face of the largest butcher turned a deep shade of red. “I suggest you step back, Master Remley. The Blackdog guild has no quarrels with you... and it would be a shame if you were to mistakenly feel the sting from one of our blades.”
Remley’s grin remained as he took another step forward. “I think I’ll take my chances.... master butcher.”
“Fine,” one of them muttered in return. The air grew unnaturally still as the trio of Blackdog butchers clutched at their blades and gazed into Remley’s unwavering eyes before shifting their sights back over to Roy.
Onlookers began to return as their curiosity got the better of them, but they notably kept much more distance than they had before, as if they knew what was to come.
Remley leaned back on his heels, leaving his hands placed firmly in his pockets “So, my dear men.... what will it be?”
The butchers grimaced, forced with the choice of defending their guild’s honor or backing down from this odd, unpredictable foe.
Foolishly, they chose honor.
The first butcher charged in, swinging his blades wildly as if he were surrounded by a thousand different enemies.
//////////
Soulblade skill: Slice and Dice
The Soulblade empowers his blade arms with frenetic spirit energy, allowing him to swing his blades with enhanced speed and strength while suffering a reduction in accuracy.
//////////
Remley grinned as the blades came slicing in, ducking and dodging the empowered attacks with hands still tucked into his pockets. He almost made it look easy, leaning back before swaying to the left just as knife passed mere inches from his face. With an insane burst of speed, Remley used his momentum to spin to the butcher’s back and deliver a stiff kick to the back of the man’s knee, forcing him to the ground. He then took a half-step forward and snapped a kick into the man’s jaw, causing him to crumble into a heap.
“You’re only going to bring yourselves further shame if you keep this up,” Remley warned, his grin growing ever-larger beneath his wide-brimmed hat.
Suddenly, the burly arms of the second butcher grabbed Remley from behind, tightening around his frame and squeezing with all their might. “Not so cocky now,” the butcher whispered into Remley’s ear, certain he had the dexterous man dead to rights.
“No,” Remley replied with a grin still on his face. “I feel quite the same,” as the words left his mouth, Remley snapped his head back, smashing it into the butcher’s nose as his hat flew into the air. The butcher dropped, blood flowing from his broken nose as Remley reached out, plucking his hat out of the breeze and placing it firmly back on his head.
Roy watched in awe as this thin, oddly cheery man dispatched his attackers with relative ease, sending two of them to the ground without so much as removing a hand from his pocket. The way Remley moved was so deceptive. He masked each movement behind his wide grin and calm demeanor as if it were pure luck that he dodged the butcher’s blows. Roy, however, had been in enough fights to see that his actions were quite deliberate. This man was reading the butcher’s movements, then reacting before the strikes came in. He was a true master of his craft.
“Please, tell me that we’re finished here?” Remley said, nearly taunting the largest and last remaining butcher as he gave the first a swift kick to the head, sending him into the waiting embrace of unconsciousness.
The last of the butcher’s growled in retort, lifting his cleavers above his head. His spirit energy flared as anger appeared to boil over.
“The Blackdog butchers will never relent to,” the man’s words were cut abruptly short as a sharp elbow landed in the butcher’s gut. Remley grinned, having closed the distance in the blink of an eye before delivering a devastating blow directly to the man’s core.
The butcher blinked, trying impossibly hard to form words before his knees finally buckled and his body fell to the ground in a heap. Onlookers spoke in whispers, marveling at the efficiency with which the butchers were routed before slinking away back to their daily lives. And then returned the silence.
Roy unclenched his fists and dropped them to sides, realizing that he had remained in fighting stance during the entirety of Remley’s little show. Now, with three of his adversaries lying unconscious in the road and a fourth rolling about with a broken nose, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
“Well, that was fun,” Remley quipped as he wiped away a thin line of blood from his coat. “Now, as I was saying, we really should be going.”
Roy paused, still uneasy about following this man into the unknown. This strange adept had more than likely saved his life but going with him meant that he was putting himself completely at his liberty… and for someone like Roy, someone that liked to feel in control, it wasn’t easy.
Remley noticed Roy’s hesitation and frowned. “Really, after all this, you’re still uncertain about my intentions?”
Row sighed, more due to his growing feeling of helplessness rather than the man’s comment. He was tired, hungry, and still nursing wounds that hadn’t fully healed. He needed a reprieve now more than ever, a moment to rest his mind, body, and spirit.
“Listen,” Roy said, his face twisted as if it pained him to force out a response. “Dammit… I’m sorry, alright? When you’ve seen the kinda stuff I have, being guarded kinda becomes second nature,” he took a deep breath before finally saying, “I’d be grateful for your help.” Roy bit his tongue, placed his fists together and bowed, an action he’d witnessed others perform as he passed through the market.
Remley raised an eyebrow as he gave Roy a final look over. Then his smile suddenly returned. “Excellent! Now, if you just follow me, we’ll get
you cleaned up!”
Roy followed Remley through the winding streets, passing by vendors and weaving through crowds as they made their way to the city’s edge. As they walked, Remley spoke a bit more in detail about the name everyone had been calling Roy… an outrealmer.
“You see, ever since the third age of Eon began, people from other realms have been appearing all over the world. Some are natural fighters like yourselves, while others possess… let's say varied talents.”
“And they’re just integrated into your society? Just like that?” Roy asked, genuinely curious.
“Gods no” Remley replied. “The strong are typically recruited into guilds. Some are extorted for other uses, some killed, and many of the weaker souls are taken into slavery.”
Roy grimaced. If he hadn’t been able to handle himself back there, his fate could’ve been far worse. “And it’s always been like that?”
“Wrong again,” Remley said with a grin. “Eon’s history is split up into three ages. The first age was a time when the gods walked the earth, waging senseless wars with one another that caused senseless mayhem for the mortals fortunate enough to survive. The second age began when said gods realized that throwing around their cosmic powers wasn’t sustainable to the realm’s survival. So, they split off into two main factions… the dark gods of the nether, and an alliance known as the High Gods, the most powerful being the renowned dragon-gods. These two factions enlisted their children… demi-gods, as generals of their mortal armies and continued with their all-out war.”
“Sounds brutally familiar to earth,” Roy replied. “Without all of the gods and stuff, anyways.”
Remley shrugged, then continued on. “Eventually, the war of the second age took its toll. Many demi-gods fell, and Eon found itself in shambles. So a truce was created.”
“Truce?”
Remley nodded. “Yes. The gods were heartbroken by the loss of so many of their children and created a truce. Kind of ironic, actually. Anyways, the daylight would belong to High Gods and their followers, while the night would belong to the dark gods of the nether. So, the dark gods of the nether created the veil and the third age began. And shortly after, outrealmers like yourself began cropping up everywhere.”
Roy pondered on that for a moment. “Any idea why we’re being brought here all of a sudden?” he had an idea of his own, but he wanted Remley’s take on it.
Remley nodded. “Honestly, I think that the High Gods aren’t happy about the way things are going. They likely lose hundreds of followers to the veil every night and have decided to recruit you all as a workaround to help combat that.”
Roy gave a slight nod himself. He wasn’t too happy to be the pawn of some ignorant god, but there was one fact he couldn’t ignore. He was damn happy to be alive.
****
Remley and Roy continued their way to the city’s edge, leaving behind the bustle of Aethrune until finally, they arrived at the outskirts, an area where people were sparse, and buildings were even sparser. Once there, Remley guided him over to a simple wooden building showing obvious signs of wear. It was an odd little place, it’s walls constructed of that strange charcoal -colored wood, with a slanted roof the color of shale. A single red-painted door sat at the building’s front with a number of small, square windows circling its exterior.
Remley let out a sigh of relief. “Ah, home sweet home,” he said, guiding Roy towards the entrance with an extra skip in his step. The officer followed reluctantly, unsure of what lied beyond the entrance of this strange, out of place structure.
As they approached the door of the house swung open and his question was quickly answered. Standing in the doorway was a woman, her face twisted into one of the fiercest scowls Roy had ever seen. She was slightly shorter than average, sporting long auburn hair accented by a single streak of black. On her body she wore a simple blue tunic that hugged at her petite frame, its neckline cut low to accentuate her breasts. Tall, traveler’s boots covered her legs up to the knee, and her left arm seemed to be covered by some sort of scripted wrapping, the fabric stretching from her wrist to her shoulder and held securely by a series of buckles and straps.
Still, what Roy couldn’t avert his gaze from was her eyes, those piercing blue orbs that seemed to peer beyond his physical body and directly to his soul. The woman returned his gaze for a second, and he was certain that the faintest hint of a smile began to form at the edge of her lips. Then, she abruptly turned her gaze to his counterpart.
“Where the hell have you been Remley?” the woman asked. “And who’s this man-filth that you dragged back with you?”
Remley gave the woman a nervous tip of his hat then turned to face Roy, an uneasy smile still formed on his face. “Er, what was your name again?”
Chapter 7
Unlikely Companions
Mid-morning, The edge of Atherune City
During his time as a patrol officer, Roy Skyworth had been forced into a number of... uncomfortable situations. He’d responded to everything from family disputes to straight up bar fights, and he’d always played the part of peacekeeper. Now, however, it seemed he was trapped in a situation of his own.
“Who the hell is this guy?” the woman said to Remley as she led the pair through the painted door and into the circular building. Roy found it a bit disconcerting that the woman spoke about him as if he weren’t there. Worse, he was finding it harder and harder to bite his tongue.
“Listen,” Remley reasoned. “This man here will be a perfect replacement for Rothus. Just give him a few days to shape up and,” Remley paused as the woman grabbed him by the arm and yanked him through another doorway, leaving Roy on his own. The officer began to frown as he inspected the simple room devoid of flavor or decoration… that is until he realized he could still hear the pair’s muffled arguments through the building’s thin walls.
“You pull in some filth off the street and expect me to sign him onto our crew?” the woman’s tone was sharp and unforgiving, a clear sign that she was the one in charge around here.
Remley’s voice of reason returned. “Listen, Leila. This man… he stood up to the Blackdogs on his own, without any incentive other than because it was the right thing to do. I’m telling you, he’s not just some sellsword that’s trying to make a quick coin. I could sense it in his spirit, Leila. Just give him a week… you’ll see that he’s a man of convictions.” Roy could hear the sincerity in Remley’s voice as he spoke on his behalf. Did this odd warrior really feel that strongly about him? Was there really something in Roy’s spirit that had caught this man’s eye?
Leila let out an audible sigh loud enough to be heard through the wall. “Fine,” she conceded. “But first, answer me this, Remley. Is the real reason you’re bringing this man aboard because he reminds you of-”
“Enough,” Remley cut in, his tone far more serious than Roy had ever heard before. It sounded like things were coming to a head.
Roy sighed before tapping on the wall a few times in quick succession. “You know, I can still hear you,” he yelled, growing frustrated with the awkward situation. The two went silent for a few seconds before finally re-emerging from the doorway, Remley with a smug smile slowly reforming back on his face.
Leila turned her attention to Roy, circling the man as if she were a lioness examining her prey. In all honesty, it was more than a bit awkward, but at least Roy was able to grab a quick scan.
//////////
Leila
Wind Adept
Rank: 3rd
Specialization: Spiritlancer
Divine Power: Dark Passenger
//////////
Leila paused, crossing her arms over her chest as she met Roy’s gaze. She almost seemed annoyed that he’d interrupted her little squabble. “So, your Remley’s new pity project. Where exactly are you from?”
Roy pursed his lips, not quite sure how to answer her question. “I don’t need anyone’s pity… and I’m from Phoenix City.”
“Never heard of i
t,” she said dryly, ignoring the first part of his statement. “An outrealmer then… how long have you been in Eon?”
Roy narrowed his eyes. “Not long.”
“Specialization?”
“I don’t have one,” Roy replied. From what he understood, specializations were equated to a type of job or class one applied their skills to. So far, the only thing he’d witnessed was the defensive powers of the Warden path, but he was curious to see where his prior skills as an officer could take him.
“Prior guild affiliations?” Leila continued.
“None.”
“Any bounties on that pretty head of yours?”
Roy shrugged. “Don’t think so,” and he really wasn’t, but somehow, he knew his non-committal answer would bother her. At first, he had been wary of the woman, but the way she spoke was so abrasive that it almost felt criminal if he didn’t find a way to pay it back in kind.
Leila shook her head as if disappointed by Roy’s answers. “Have you ever peered into the dark depths of one if Eon’s dungeons?”
Roy lifted his blood-stained rags. “No, but I’ve felt the darkness out there. I killed one of those damned beasts with my own hands.”
Leila’s brow slightly elevated as if his statement had piqued her interest, though she quickly hid the expression. “I’ve seen children strong enough to combat darkbeasts,” she said, an assumed lie. “Now, just one last question… why did you attack one of the Blackdog butchers back there?”
Roy narrowed his eyes as he thought back to the way the butcher had mercilessly attacked his apprentice. “Because where I’m from, justice isn’t decided merely by being the strongest. What he was doing was wrong… you don’t just get to take someone’s life without consequence.” Roy grinned. “And, because he was a prick.”
Edge of Eons: A Cultivation Novel (The Adept Archives: Book 1) Page 6