43 An Effort to Drink (1/2)
”You, a demon? What could your kind possibly be doing here after being so embarrassingly routed just thirty years ago?” Iona hissed.
Li looked back at the adventurers, hoping they were out of earshot. They were already a ways down the main road so that their backs were smidgens in the distance, excited as they were to have an excuse to get drinks.
Zagan raised his head at Iona and simply stared at her. He did not growl or bare his teeth. ”I will not debase myself to engage with a little pup of a spirit such as you.”
Iona's hands clenched into fists as she waved them in the air, wanting to vent her indignation but knowing that before her was a demon herald, one of the seven bearers of the cardinal sins and, correspondingly, a being of immense might that she could never challenge.
”You killed these forests. All the life around here, all these woods, the Winterwoods -your kind killed it all.”
Zagan turned his gaze to Li. ”This one is rather loud. Shall I quieten her for you? I understand she is of some use to you. I will ensure she will not die. She will merely know her place.”
”W-what?” Iona protested. She also turned to Li. ”O guardian, the demon before you lies. I do not know what he said to enter your service, but his kind has destroyed all the forests here in the south. All he will bring upon you, upon this farm, is untold chaos and destruction.”
Li put up a commanding hand to enforce order. Both Iona and Zagan looked at him expectantly. ”I understand that the two of you have differences, but I've also gotten to know both of you and I can confidently say that you are reasonable and intelligent. In any ordinary circumstance, I understand you would have been enemies, but under my command, I won't tolerate any discord. Take this chance to try and talk to each other instead of hurling accusations and threats.”
Zagan gave Iona a sideways glance and sighed a little, his black-furred chest heaving up and down with lazy effort. ”Very well. Our master wishes us to talk. Consider it an honor for you to even address one such as I without having the last dregs of your existence smote away from this world.”
”Talk?” Iona bit her lip. ”How do I even begin to talk to you? You killed my kind.”
”Hm.” Zagan nodded his head. ”I can tell you that my personage has never struck a spirit of the forests such as yourself. Thirty years ago, I was not a herald. I was a mere warrior, eager to feast upon the mortals. I spent my days tormenting beastmen so that even now, they draw warning murals of my terrible visage shadowing over their flimsy villages.”
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”The beastmen were good! They were kind, respectful.”
Zagan laughed. ”Tell me you do not sympathize with the mortals. No, that cannot be. You are merely grasping at straws, attempting to pin some blame upon my personage to channel a hate that has brewed within you, unsatisfied, for many years.”
”You came north then,” continued Iona quickly, trying to justify herself. ”But all the forest guardians in the south – you killed them.”
”In the north, where I fought, we did not touch a single one of your kin. Your brethren let our armies pass for you understood that the mortals were a thorn in your side. Your friends in the south, however, were far too fond of these mortals, coddling them to their breast as if they were their babes and fighting our advances every step of the way.” Zagan scoffed. ”We did not wish to harm the forest spirits, but they stood in our way.”
”You-”
”You continue to address me as 'you', as if to blame all the actions of my kind unto my single personage. I shall forgive that transgression for I am aware that forest spirits are communal, there is a stronger sense of 'we' amongst your kind. But for demonkind, there is but the individual – the strongest survives, the weak are consumed.
I cannot absolve my kind for the deaths of your kin, but I do not take responsibility either. And were your kin in the south powerful enough, they would have repelled us, and I am sure we would have respected that power. But they were weak, so they perished. That is the bare, simple truth.”
Zagan laid down now, paws crossed atop each other, as the hellfire in his eyes dimmed and he became increasingly bored. ”And as I understand, the destruction of your home, of all the forest spirits in the north, were due to mortal hand, no? I know the bitterness raging within your heart. You seek vengeance – my senses are keen to smell that out. But for reason's sake and your own safety, I suggest you direct that vengeance to those properly deserving.”
Iona stared tight-lipped at Zagan for a full minute before she sighed, her back almost hunching as tension visibly released from her being. Her arms hung slack at her side before she shook her head. Her eyes regained their constant sense of tired calm, the hints of fiery emotion withering away.
”I'm sorry. You're right – we were a kindred species, linked together with the bonds of flowing life. When everyone died, my sisters, brothers, and my guardian, I felt the pain enough to kill me many times over, and when I saw you, for a second, I felt that pain – pain that I felt I had washed away by diluting myself with mortal souls – come back. But you are not responsible for that pain, I admit, no.”
Zagan sighed impatiently. ”Such is the folly of you younger spirits. You have not felt the centuries dance by. You do not understand how to put your pain into an eternal perspective. Your years are many, the mortals have few. That is all the more years for you to fight, not to engage in utter foolishness and submit to an eternal despair. So long as you live, you fight and stay strong – that is how you quench your vengeance, that is how you prove yourself above your aggressors. Wallowing in pity does nothing.”
Iona nodded. ”I will think upon your words. They do have grains of wisdom in them, and the guardian is right in that it is best for this farm that we don't have any resentment for each other.”
”Resentment? My great personage never thought you deserving of that,” said Zagan matter-of-factly.
”Yes, yes, I understand,” sighed Iona, understanding that she would be getting used to looked down upon by a higher demon from now on. She turned to Li. ”I'll be off soon. You should make merry with the adventurers. They'll be suspicious if you take too long. I must stay here for a while to take a more secretive way back to the city after they have entered.”
Li looked at Iona, then at Zagan. ”You two will be fine alone together?” he asked, knowing that whatever bad blood between them was just a fiery spark that had settled, but he still asked out of caution.
Iona gave an affirmative nod. ”You should not worry, O guardian. I will ask the demon of how you run this farm and what you require help with. I am also rather curious as to how he came into your service.”
”I would not address such a lowly spirit, but if it is for the sake of improving your usefulness to the master, then I will entertain you,” said Zagan.
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When Li made his way into Riviera, he found the nightlife on overdrive. Riviera, the city built right next to a sparkling lake and holding a prestigious university was a hotbed of young energy, of wild nights out, of romantic lakeside walks and brief but intense passions only made possible with the flames of youth.
Food vendors – an omnipresent sight – hawked their wares, but their foodstuffs were very different at this time of the hour. As Li walked through the main marketplace now lit with an array of torches, he could hear the sizzling of oil and the smell of fried chicken as greasy goodness – perfect for helping the stomach prepare for a heavy dose of alcohol - overtook the baked goods of the day.
He ignored the vendors. At the center of the marketplace was a raised platform where a group of troubadours, basically performing musicians, played a high-energy song talking about a noble lady losing herself to a night of drunken partying. A common type of song for this time of the night.
He passed the marketplace and went up north, taking several stairs as he grew closer to the city hall. Beyond the hall, elevated even higher up, were the expansive noble estates, but he wasn't headed there. Instead, before he took the massive flight of stairs up to the city hall, he took a sharp right, heading eastwards where the adventurer's guild was.
In the night, it stood out as an austere building of brick and unpolished marble. Behind it lay a wooden barracks and courtyard where trainees were housed and prepped to fight monsters. The building itself was maybe four floors high, the windows barred and the door a massive hunk of rune-reinforced wood.
At the center of the door was carved in a sigil in the shape of sword.
It signaled that this was, rather uncreatively named, the guild of the sword, focused on training warriors and rangers, people who fought with their physical might. There were three other guilds located in each of the other cardinal cities.
That of the staff for mages, the dagger for assassins, and the sun for priests. Of course, all of the guilds allowed adventurers of any class to take their assignments, but each specialized in training a certain subset of adventurer.
Just a little further east of the guild stood the Gold Flagon, officially funded by the adventurer's guild. Adventurers got discounts here, and some events were limited to adventurers only. Usually, there would be two guards outside the door emblazoned with the image of a golden cup, but today they were absent.
It was the only tavern that he knew how to get to because Old Thane, at least when he was younger, only ever came here.
As far as taverns went, it was massive, with two upper floors dedicated as an inn to house overnight drunkards or the tired adventurer. And considering the dangerous and taxing line of work, there were plenty of adventurers that drank themselves silly to ease their stresses or needed a quick and cheap place to stay while they finished an assignment.
Tonight, the Gold Flagon lit up with life. All of its many windows shone a bright orange, the gleaming lanterns within providing more than enough lighting. The building almost seemed to shake, and when Li approached, he could hear even outside the rough shouting of adventurers, of glasses clinking and roaring laughs thundering outwards.
The moment Li opened the door, the warm and humid air within blasting him in the face, a horde of shouts greeted him, but one of them was louder than all the rest.
”There he is!” roared Vahid at the top of his lungs, his barrel-like chest straining as he thrust an entire pitcher into the air, beer at the top spilling over and quickly evaded by a rogue shot a quick glare at the bear of a man. ”Ain't it the genius! Another round to celebrate his arrival!”
Despite Vahid's prodigious size, Old Thane shoved him easily to the side and waved at Li. ”Come, lad, there be plenty of ale to come by!”
”All rounds on me,” said Launcelot from a table to the side as he raised his arm shakily. He slumped forwards, preventing himself from faceplanting on the table only because of his party members holding him up straight.