The sun had just risen over the horizon lighting the city of Rona with a gentle radiance. A thin misty blanket lowered itself onto the city streets as if the sun’s light scared it. The city seemed abandoned during its early hours. Nothing but stray animals roamed around as the sun rose. Then the first human made its presence known by stumbling across the street still recovering from the night of heavy drinking. The silence of the morning was broken the city bells tolling. Their symphony awakened everyone else. Slowly, life returned as men walked out of taverns, and women opened up their shops.

Raynor watched it all from his room’s window. He had been awake for hours staring out into the streets watching and hearing the commotions that occur before sunrise. The near silence almost seemed too cruel to miss so Raynor pulled up a chair to the window and stared out into the dark. Raynor often did this before journeying off on a quest. He was not sure if it was because he was so nervous or if it was the possibility of never being able to see his city ever again. But this time Raynor’s mind was full of thoughts. He could not sleep no matter how hard he tried.

Raynor kept thinking about how this could be his last quest. He never imagined that an opportunity this rich would fall onto him. Raynor still could not believe how he managed to trick the great nobles to pay him, and his team, fifty thousand gold for a delivery job which is seen as the simplest kind of job but this time it was different. Delivering war supplies would not be simple. If anything should go wrong he would be hanged for treason. Maybe an even worse fate seeing how the nobles clearly have too much at risk. But if Raynor should succeed, he can finally retire and settle down for good. He planned to rebuild his family’s old farm. Raynor only hoped that the soil was still farmable after the devastating demi-human raid.

A knock on the door ended Raynor’s thoughts. He walked to open the door and saw Mei the tavern maid with a platter in her hands. On it was grilled bacon, bread, boiled eggs and a pint of ale. Raynor smiled, thanked, and took the platter from Mei. She blushed and opened her mouth to say something but Raynor closed his door before she had the chance. Unfortunately for Mei, Raynor did not feel the same way for her. It would be too cruel for a woman to wait for her man even though he may not return.

He quickly finished the meal prepared for him. Raynor knew he was going to miss Mei’s cooking when he finished the last of the bacon. He started to prepare for the journey ahead. He put on his white belted tunic and black wool pants over his linen undergarments. Raynor then began to put on his travelling gear, leather boots and gloves, iron armguards, light chain mail over his tunic, and then hard leather armour over his chain mail. He strapped his sword to his hip. Just having it on his person scared any potential enemies. Finally, he strapped a small satchel to his other hip. He took out a small bag from underneath the bed and emptied out all the coins onto a table. He counted them out and separated them into their groups. He came to a total of seven hundred-and-thirty copper coins, two hundred-and-eighteen silver coins, and fifty-four gold coins. He decided that he would need to take it all to make the journey. He knew that Carso would take a lot from Raynor for allowing passage down the East River. Carso liked to charge whatever he felt was suitable.

Raynor, now fully ready, left the room and walked downstairs into the dining area. He walked up to the innkeeper and gave him three silver coins. The innkeeper nodded satisfied and went back to his work. Raynor then made his way out of the inn and began the path to the river dock.

Three days had passed since Raynor’s meeting with the nobles. Since then Raynor had been collecting as much money as he could. He walked around the city looking for every inn he ever slept in. Chances were that there was someone who owed Raynor some money after losing several times in cards. He needed as much money as he could get to pay for the journey. Raynor even travelled down to the Underground Market to sell old equipment.

The Underground Market was the black market of Rona. It was there that many struggling people made their living. Being situated in the old broken down sewer system made it almost impossible to find it if you had not been there before. Most of the upper class had not inspected it the sewers in decades making it almost completely forgotten. There is always someone willing to buy something off a customer for cheap prices. Raynor was not worried about having to sell everything. The promise of reward seemed concrete in Raynor’s mind.

Raynor figured that the nobles would not risk going back against their agreement. They needed to ensure that their reputations are clean at all times in order to curry favour from the Queen. Raynor hoped that he was right. From that one meeting, Raynor sort of understood the people he was dealing with. Lord Mandion was clearly against the idea of hiring Raynor, an adventurer, to deliver supplies to the East. Raynor especially did not want to anger the Master of War. But Raynor was more afraid of angering Lord Mane. The Master of Silk must have put too much on the line after agreeing to pay Raynor fifty thousand gold, and Raynor knew not to anger a rich man who has lost a lot of money.

Raynor turned down the street that led towards the river dock. The smell of fish grew stronger as he approached, and the sound of shouting men alerted Raynor that the morning was busy for sailors and fishermen. He looked around for the fleet Carso arranged for the shipment. It was not so hard for Raynor to find the fleet, not because the river was almost blocked, but because of the large platoon of plate armoured men that formed a wall blocking a path to the fleet. Two plated men moved aside as Raynor approached allowing him through. Raynor could see why there was a need for this roadblock. There was a steady line of men carrying extremely large crates from a warehouse onto the ships docked next to it. Raynor was surprised by how large these crates were. It took ten men to carry one crate to a ship. Raynor figured each one of Carso’s small ships could load about five crates. Raynor started to worry if someone would even smuggle this shipment to Argasia.

Raynor’s worry ended when he saw Carso smiling and shaking the hand of Lord Mane. He was shocked to see Carso being so friendly with Lord Mane. Carso then saw Raynor and waved him over. Raynor walked over to them as to not be disrespectful.

Lord Mane turned to see Raynor and said, “Ironjaw. Glad to see you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t dare miss it.” Raynor replied unenthusiastically.

“I hear you know Mr Reed here, correct?”

“More than I wish to know.”

This received a chuckle from Carso who then wished Lord Mane a good day, and made his way to his ship. Lord Mane waited for Carso to be far away before speaking again, “I hope you understand how much is at stake Ironjaw?”

Raynor was about to speak but Lord Mane quickly interrupted him, “Well I’m sure a smart man like you has already thought about it so I don’t need to explain.”

Lord Mane started to walk away turned to Raynor again and said, “I heard that you never wanted to go back to Argasia because of what you went through as a soldier. How unfortunate that the past has caught up with you. Have a safe trip”

With that, Lord Mane walked away to his horse. Raynor did not like the tone in which those words were spoken. He could not understand why it bothered him so. He watched Lord Mane ride away towards the palace, thinking about why he would say something like that.

The realisation then slowly came to him: It was a warning. A warning that Raynor fully understood. If he should fail, his crime would be brought to light. This thought made his heart race with fear. The only thought in his mind was how did Lord Mane find out? Raynor turned to the ship that he would be travelling on and spotted Carso standing on the bow of the ship looking directly at Raynor. Carso then smiled and turned away to speak with a crew member. Raynor walked to the ship with both fear and rage in his heart.

Raynor had not felt so much rage in years. He clenched his teeth to keep it hidden inside. The thought of a trusted friend selling his skin to a cunning vulture sent his mind over the edge. He started remembering old faces and forgetting them right after when he realised that they were either dead, missing, or had nothing to do with Raynor’s crime except for one man. Carso helped him plan their escape from the army and together they deserted. No one else was involved or knew about their flight. However, Raynor refused to believe the rat to be Carso. He could not find any reason for Carso to betray him except for money, and Carso was not a cheap person. He also would not have been able to throw dirt on Raynor and keep his own hands clean. But of course he was still a pirate. Raynor understood that pirates would do nearly anything if the pay was good enough, and Carso was no exception. 

Raynor waited a moment to cool his head before boarding the ship. He preferred to make rational decisions rather than letting his emotions get the upper hand on him, so he just stared at Carso at the stern. He decided to wait a little longer before seeing Carso. Going to him without any proof was unwise for any man.

Raynor forgot to look where he was walking and crashed into someone. He steadied himself and looked towards the stranger to voice his apologies. His eyes met the stranger's; a soft milky blue that was scarred by streaks of a much deeper blue making his pupil the centre of a whirlpool. He remembered the eyes belonging to Axil Featherhands, one of the best rangers in the kingdom. His long silky white hair was tied into a tail with a black leather strap keeping his raw beauty uninterrupted for anyone who looked. Arched eyebrows, smooth tanned skin, sharp cheekbones, and rosy lips all seemed to compliment his wolfish face. There was often talk amongst the ladies that Axil was the most handsome man in the kingdom.

Even Raynor was stunned when the two first met. He did not expect a ranger let alone an adventurer to be so young or have a clean and unscarred face. The first words he said to Axil were if his father was the famed Axil. This brought some genuine laughter from Axil.

Raynor was soon brought back into the present when Axil spoke to him in a cheerful voice, “Well good morning Ironjaw. In a rush this early?”

“Sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment.” He replied truthfully.

“What’s there to think about?” Axil asked with an interested look on his face.

“It’s nothing. Are you ready for the journey?” He desperately wanted to change the subject. The last thing Raynor wanted was someone prying into his mind.

A large smile spread across Axil’s face revealing snow white teeth that seemed to sparkle in the morning light. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Thank you again for coming to me with this great opportunity.”

“Don’t get anything wrong. You weren’t the first person I had in mind for this.” Raynor quickly replied.

“Yes, but I was the first person you came to.”

“I didn’t go to you because I owe you a favour, Featherhands. You just have certain skills that I wanted for all this to go smoothly.” Irritation began to creep within Raynor. He let it slip a little into his voice.

“Smoothly? Then why did you bring along the great, big Bor the Behemoth?” A light chuckle came from Axil.

“Because I did owe him a favour.” Raynor grudgingly admitted.

“Well… looks like this won’t go as smoothly as you want it to then.” Axil said as he walked past showing that snowy smile once again.

Raynor then noted two sharpened teeth protruding like icicles from the snow. He watched Axil take a small, flat, steel needle from a pouch and begin to pick at those icicles. When he put the needle back into the pouch, the icicles seemed a little sharper.

Such a strange habit to have, Raynor thought. Axil was sharpening those two teeth the whole time when the two first met. It sent a shiver down Raynor’s spine. He could not help but cringe away from the display. This caused Axil to chuckle a little. He then explained to Raynor that it was a tradition in his village for young hunters to regularly sharpen their canines, and that it acts as a connection to the wild they hunt in as well as a sign of dedication to the hunter’s trade. For some reason Raynor found himself respecting the young ranger in the first few minutes of their encounter. But after their conversation he wished that he had not. Although Axil practiced an honourable tradition he was not all honourable. Throughout the conversation Raynor could easily tell that this young ranger was still full of the young man’s ambitions. Axil only gave his attention to Raynor as soon as money was mentioned. Before then Axil was giving suggestive glances to any tavern maid that walked past, and he was staring at a group of men gambling in the corner. 

Axil was only truly interested in fame and fortune. Raynor had learned that he only left his village to become a ranger and an adventurer. The idea was to use the skills he learned as a child growing up to amaze everyone around him and slowly raise his fame. It had taken two years for him to become one of the kingdom’s most famous adventurers alongside the likes others such as Raynor.

Once Axil was out of sight and below decks, Raynor asked himself, “Why did I bring such a smart mouth?”

A deep grizzly voice from behind replied, “Because you lack one yourself, my boy!”

Raynor turned around to see his old friend Bor holding his giant warhammer over his shoulder. His thick black beard failed to hide the friendly smile and cracked yellow teeth. Raynor almost fell sick seeing Bor’s smile compared to the dazzling display of Axil. The only dazzling thing about Bor was his smooth hairless scalp. His face mirrored the image of a giant egg in a bushy nest.

Raynor could not help but lightly chuckle at the thought, “Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself, Bor?”

Bor gave a short but loud bellow before continuing, “That’s why you’re my favourite customer! Your tongue is as sharp as ever!”

“Are you sure it isn’t because I don’t complain about your swords breaking after using them for the first time?”

“I did warn you that that old rusty thing was no good. But it looks like that didn’t stop you.” Bor said pointing to the sword in the sheath on Raynor’s hip.

“Well what can I say? It’s a part of me. This old thing has seen me through tough times.”

“You know any other weapons merchant would have laughed at you for saying that.”

“But not you, Bor?”

“You know me, Raynor! I don’t see a man’s worth through his metal. It’s the strength of his arm, and the…”

“The fire in his heart. I know. You’ve told me that many times before.” Raynor interrupted with a smile of recognition.

“Then I must have grown on you! But even so, I still think a man needs to change his metal once its broken.”

“You’re right. But it suits my style of fighting. Thank you again for doing this for me, Bor.”

“Of course, my boy! But are you sure you didn’t ask me to join you because you felt the need to repay old debts?” A curious smirk could be seen underneath his great beard.

“Partly. And also because I thought you could use some fresh air after years spent in that dusty shack.”

Bor roared again with laughter. Raynor was afraid that he might choke if he went on for a moment longer. Once he was finished Bor continued, “My time was due. But I’ll have you know that the years have not blunted my skills, my boy.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Let’s just hope you’re right.”

Bor’s wide smile slowly shrunk into a weary line. The lines of worry on his face became mixed with his lines of age making him look much older. His boomful voice disappeared as he spoke, “Listen, my boy. There have been rumours of some sort of cult brewing in the Moss. For all we know it could be bandits coming together.”

The Moss is the vast spread of dark green trees, spanning leagues, just outside the city of Rona. The thick canopy of leaves let very little light through into the forest causing moss to grow everywhere when it rained. It covered everything from the trunks of trees to large boulders. Due to the vast amount, it often created hidden caves and groves where adventurers could camp for a night, or a place for bandits to set up their camps to later raid unsuspecting caravans.

Raynor understood what trouble it could mean if the rumours held some truth. The biggest issue for any questing adventurer was being attacked by one of the many bandit groups. It would be worse if they banded together. If it happened, they would have enough strength and ability to hold Rodes captive in a siege for years. But Raynor felt that there was no need to worry and replied to Bor’s concern, “That is troublesome. But Carso is the leader of some of the bandit groups out there. They won’t attack us while we’re on the river.”

“My boy, do you really think Carso can hold them all down? Seeing this many ships will make their greed forget about their loyalty.” Bor’s stern voice made Raynor feel as if he was being lectured by his grandfather.

“I trust him. Carcillo and I were in Argasia a while ago.”

“Well… if you trust him then I guess I should trust you. I know how strong a bond created with blood can be. I just hope you trust Carso to hold that bond in high regard as you do.” Bor said as he walked away from Raynor towards some men carrying another crate.

Raynor knew that Bor was right to say that. In his experience, it was better to listen to the words of Bor and take them to heart. His age strengthened his wisdom and when he spoke it was full of experience making what he said more valuable than anything else. It was this reason that made Raynor feel as if what he said was foolish. He bit down on his tongue to try to erase the feeling of guilt building up inside. He hoped that his instincts were right about the bandits.

A cold chill crept up his spine. Not even the warmth of the morning sun could chase the chill away. It felt as if there was a presence behind him made of ice and cold. He turned to confront this presence and saw Lord Mane standing behind him with the captain of the Royal Guard. The captain’s stern expression contrasted the lord’s charming smile. Lord Mane then began to speak, “Captain, I’m sure you remember Raynor Ironjaw?”

He did not answer the lord by speaking. Instead he simply stared at Raynor and nodded.

Lord Mane then turned to Raynor and spoke again, “The captain will be joining you on your journey.”

Raynor began to object but he was quickly interrupted, “Now I know you would prefer to travel with almost no heads turning your way, but we need some sort of insurance. Surely you understand Raynor.”

“Yes… I suppose it is better than travelling with an entire platoon.”

Lord Mane smiled and bowed his head before walking away. The captain also left the conversation. He followed some men down below deck. Raynor thought that it would be best if the captain stayed there out of sight.

A horn sounded across the area. Its echo signaled the beginning of the journey. Raynor took in a deep breath and watched the crew race across the rigging to loose the sails and tie everything down. Their speed in preparing the ship made him admire the crew’s discipline. Carso barely shouted any orders instead he would point to something and within a single moment it would be attended to. Raynor walked to the stern of the ship and watched the other ships at work. Despite the river almost being choked with the fleet, each ship seemed to move with grace between the small gaps. He could tell that every crew member was well trained and disciplined sailors. This put his nerves for the long journey ahead at ease.

****

The thick growth of oak trees painted the roof of the grove with long branches and dark leaves. A single ray of light lit up the entire grove. The ground was covered in a blanket damp moss. Small groups of starflowers sprouted from under this blanket. Blue winged butterflies floated around the white petals sucking their pollen away like thirsty animals. The song of a lonely swallow sounded all around only for one man to hear it. Rowan sat in silence letting the song overwhelm him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh air into his lungs. The scent of wet grass filled his nose.

He heard muffled footsteps approach him. He held up a finger and the footsteps stopped. A soft whisper replaced the bird’s song in his ears, “High Priest? We await your prayer.”

“Thank you. Prepare the ceremony.” Rowan replied.

He reluctantly left the peace of the grove. He wished to stay just a moment longer but he knew his duties to all his followers must always come first. He walked over the hill that protected the grove from the camp. Where starflowers dotted the ground in the grove there was only campfires beyond the hill. When he reached the base his foot sunk ankle deep into the mud. The pained screaming of infidels hanging naked from the trees gave him more comfort than the calming song from before. After all they were to be used as instruments in his ceremony that would mark the dawn of the new age.

He passed the five infidels ignoring their cries for help and made his way into a tent placed underneath them. Once inside he began to undress out of his leather jerkin. When he was finished, he turned to the left side of the tent and inspected himself in a mirror. He traced a finger across the scar where his heart used to be. 

It reminded him of the pledge he made years ago to fully give his life and service to, what he called, Veritas. He carved out his own heart during a ritual said to commune with a higher power. Before the ritual he knew that he would die the moment he cut into his heart. Instead he discovered that there was no pain when the knife dug into his skin. As he held his own beating heart in his hand a mixture of confusion, fear, shock and joy swirled around inside him. With tears in his eyes he screamed his devotion to whoever it was that saved him. He decided to call it Veritas. It meant Truth in the old language. He tossed his heart into some burning coals, and while it popped blood he heard whispers of secrets and he saw the path of the future.

Rowan used one of the secrets he learnt to gather more followers. It was made to look like a simple parlour trick. Smoke would sprout from his hand and whoever looked at the smoke would see an image of happiness. But he knew that an image was not its purpose. The smoke dulled the senses of all those around. This made it easier for him to convince people that if they devoted themselves to Veritas paradise would await them. Then after years of preaching promises and displaying his power, they devoted themselves to Rowan.

The scream of one of the infidels brought him back from his memories. He turned away from the mirror and saw the plain white robe strewn across his bedroll. He pulled the sleeves over his arms and lifted the bottom over his head. The wool tickled the hairs on his chest. He took one final look in the mirror before leaving the tent.

Outside, dozens of people were walking around the camp. It pleased Rowan to see his followers doing their part for the ceremony. Braziers were lit and arranged into a large circle. He walked into the circle, reached into the sleeve of his robe, and pulled out a small soup bowl. Behind the ring of fire his followers gathered to witness the upcoming spectacle. He turned to face them and was deeply moved when he saw their smiles. He began to deliver his sermon in a confident and proud voice, “My faithful. You have waited years for this day. The day that marks the beginning of a new era. The era where the only ruler of men and women is Veritas. Today we create the tools for building the new world!”

All the followers cheered at the mention of the new world. They applauded until Rowan spoke again, “Bring forth the non-believers!”

The crowd cheered louder and left as one towards the five hanging people. Their cheers silenced the protests and pleas coming from above them. The ropes were cut and the infidels plummeted into the crowd. 

With their hands bound they were taken to Rowan and forced onto their knees. He waved his right hand and four followers in white robes joined him in the circle. They each stood behind one of the infidels who placed around the soup bowl.

Everyone began to chant in a language that contained no words. With each sound they made the light coming in through the trees darkened. Soon, only the braziers lit up the area. During the chant Rowan whispered, “Take these offerings we present unto you… take their souls and give them a new shell where they may be joined together in the bonds of blood.”

He looked down at the infidel before him. He noticed for the first time that she was a woman. The curves of her back were marred with bruises and dirt. Seeing her once smooth colourful skin in this horrible condition filled him with pity. He stared at her back until the sight made him feel sick. He took her shaggy blonde hair over her shoulder to fall down her back. With the grotesque sight blocked from his eyes he was able to proceed with the ceremony.

He pulled out a long length of hair from his sleeve and wrapped it around her neck. He tightened his grip around her neck causing her to violently gasp for air. He could hear the skin of her neck crack open as blood squirted out onto the bowl. Her gasps for air quickly turned gurgling noises. He pulled her neck back to let the blood spray onto his face. It was not part of the ceremony. He just wanted a small taste of ecstasy.

He finally released her from his coil and let her face collapse into the bowl. The rest of the infidels followed her fall to the ground each with a thin smile across their necks. They lay upon each other dripping whatever blood was left in them.

Rowan closed his eyes and waited for his new miracle to take place. Minutes passed and nothing happened. After an hour of waiting, he could hear his followers’ whisper their doubts to each other. It was then that he heard bones snapping and flesh tearing. He opened his eyes to the gasps of everyone around him.

What he saw was the pile of corpses contorting themselves into each other. Arms twisted backwards to wrap around each other making thick fleshy vines. Torsos ripped themselves open to combine again at the ribs, and organs piled up together with no structure. The ribs were unable to close up completely leaving cracks open for anyone to look inside. The legs repositioned themselves wherever they could, and the heads fought for space at the top of the new torso. The multiple legs then started to move to make the miracle stand. On three shaky legs it stood in the circle. 

Everyone started to cheer at the sight of Rowan’s miracle causing him to smile with victory. He walked around his creation inspecting it closer. He could no longer contain his excitement and began laughing. He shouted to the sky, “Now let us kill the Witch and bring about the new age!”