With his pack newly weighed down by the coins that Shigeru had given them, Enri decided that their first trip should be to the market. The weekly market had already ended, of course, but there was still a substantial market that ran all day, and any manner of goods could be found. Markus tailed behind him, not too close for comfort, but close enough that he could respond to any threats directed at Enri.

 

Markus may not have liked being selected as his guide, but was more or less resolved to the responsibility. Deciding that there was no point in complaining about something that couldn’t be changed, he simply chose to perform his new job well. His eyes roamed side to side constantly, scanning each new thing that popped up nearby, then dismissing it. He felt a little out of place acting as a bodyguard for Enri, but shrugged the discomforting thought aside. He’d been promised his own sort of glory for escorting his companion, and he was satisfied with the terms.

 

The monk named Atsu had visited him the same day as Enri, just as the lunch break took place. Markus had made his way to the mess hall, thinking of nothing but the hot meal he would enjoy. He’d been sore from training that day, and cleaning and polishing all the equipment in the trainee’s armory. So when he’d sat down at an empty table, holding a plate loaded with meats and bread complete with a steaming mug of coffee, he barely took notice of the stranger in elaborate robes approaching him, only becoming truly aware of the man when he pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.

 

“Markus Ciayol.” The man spoke in a deep, authoritative tone. It had been a statement, not a question. The man was not confirming who he was, he already knew.

 

Markus had hesitated, his loaded fork halfway to his mouth, and looked up at the enigmatic stranger. The man reminded him of the old priests he’d often see near the temples of the city, though his robes didn’t match any of the religions in the area. The attire was simple enough in design, yet it had a subtle grandeur. This, combined with the man’s confident carriage and noble features, left Markus in no doubt that he was not a figure to disrespect. After quickly scanning the heraldry on the man’s shoulders and torso, he failed to recognize where the man was from, however, so there was also no need to pander to him.

 

“Yes?” He asked gruffly. He wasn’t rude, but he also avoided sounding obsequious. The stranger was interrupting his meal, the one time in his day when he could relax and have a peaceful moment to himself, safe from the ire of his instructors.

 

“I am Atsu Shimonseki.” The man had pronounced. He hadn’t used the supercilious tones of a noble but spoke plainly and clearly. The name had confirmed Markus’ opinion that the man was from the Isles of Nihon-Ja. It wasn’t every day that you saw someone from the peaceful country to the south, but it also wasn’t so rare to be a moment for wonder.

 

Markus grunted in reply to the man’s introduction. There was no point in introducing himself in return if the man already knew who he was. He gave no response besides the grunt, and the man seemed to expect none.

 

“I am a member of the Sanctuary, traveling through this country, trying to find people to take part in the Trials.”

 

Markus strained his thoughts, recalling a vague memory of the Sanctuary. It was some kind of important monastery or other in the world. Like everyone else in the world, he didn’t know where it was, but he didn’t care. He’d never heard of the Trials before, and his face showed as much. Again, Atsu showed no sign of disappointment or anger at Markus’ lack of understanding but explained further calmly.

 

“Every few years, we at the Sanctuary host the Trials as a way of recruiting new members. Those who take part in the trials have a year to find and journey to the Sanctuary, where they will have the chance to join our ranks.”

 

Markus grunted again, this time choosing to add actual words. “Sounds tedious. Not interested, sorry. I’ve got a job, and a future right here in Milagre.”

 

Atsu had shaken his head at his misunderstanding, looking to clarify his intent. “I am not selecting you as an initiate. I’m selecting you as a Guide.”

 

Markus frowned as he thought about that. “What’s a guide? Is that like a scout or something?”

 

Atsu smiled slowly. “No. A Guide is paired up with every initiate, to lead them to the Sanctuary. You will be given clues along your way, and it is your job to protect your initiate as they journey to the Sanctuary. If they are able to reach the Sanctuary alive, you will be granted a title, a large amount of gold, and much prestige in the world in recognition of your success.”

 

It sounded like those fairy tales Markus had seen children in Milagre reading. He scoffed. “That sounds even more tedious. Ain’t interested, sorry. I already said I have a job.”

 

Atsu had stood then, adjusting his robes from where they had shifted while he was seated. “This is not an offer or an invitation. I am informing you of your new job. You will put your best effort into escorting your new companion, and you shall only be relieved when you succeed or die.”

 

Markus had risen too, though his movement was out of a sense of anger. Temporarily forgetting the natural aura of authority around the man, he growled. “You have no authority to order me around.”

 

Atsu’s reply was annoyingly calm. “On the contrary, I have all the authority I need. When a Guide is selected, it can not be undone. Your head instructor has already been informed, and you have been relieved of your duty.”

 

Now Markus’s temper reached boiling point, always a danger sign. His face suffused with anger, he jabbed a finger in Atsu’s direction. “What gives you the right to ruin someone’s life?”

 

Atsu pondered him for several seconds, tilting his head slightly. He’d expected this response from Markus and had his reply waiting. “I have no right. I just have a calling to do my job. And now I suppose you do too.”

 

The monk had turned and left the mess hall then, leaving Markus standing alone at his table, attracting stares from his peers in the hall. He was filled with a desire to chase after Atsu and attack him out of vicious rage, but he found that his body couldn’t move. After what seemed like an hour, though it was mere minutes, he’d sat back down, glaring a challenge around at his watchers. Eyes hurriedly dropped back to their plates, not willing to meet his angry gaze.

 

As Markus had finished his meal, he’d fumed silently, his temper made even worse by the fact that he couldn’t just avoid the job. It was only after he’d finished his meal and gotten up to get rid of the plate and mug, that he’d noticed the folded piece of paper left on the table where the monk had been sitting. Snatching the paper up and unfolding it, he’d read his first instructions, along with the first hint.

You will meet the initiate you are to guide at the North Gate at sunrise tomorrow. You will find a bag of gold for equipment and rations at the barracks.

Markus reviewed the events of the past few days as he trailed Enri through the streets, reluctantly admitting to himself that, while he may not have wanted the job, it was a job he could do well, and he was confident in his ability to Guide Enri to the Sanctuary. Then maybe he’d use that prestige Atsu had mentioned to earn a place within the Maravino.

 

Enri came to an abrupt halt on the market street, causing Markus to nearly walk into him. Looking around, he saw that they were outside the second largest building on the street after The Heron Tavern. A worn sign over the door was hit by the glow of lanterns inside the opposite shop. Milagre General Goods. Markus understood only too well the look of hesitation and dislike etched onto Enri’s face as he stared at the shop.

 

“Do we have to go in here?” Markus asked, his own voice filled with disgust as well. The owner of the shop, a man named Deceed, was a well-known crook in town. He sold sub-par goods, and any equipment bought at his shop was known to break very quickly.

 

Enri sighed. “We don’t have a choice. I need tools to repair our gear on the road, and Erik’s smithy is closed until his wife has her baby.”

 

Markus cursed quietly as he remembered that fact. Without further discussion, Enri shoved the door open and walked into the shop. There were two people already inside the musty interior. One was an old farmer, his eyes scrutinizing a price tag listed on some piece of farm equipment as he carried it to the desk in the back of the shop. The other was a thin man, wearing a tunic that stretched slightly across the stomach. He had a receding hairline, a pointy nose and ears, and watery eyes that gave him a permanent rat-like appearance. Seamus Deceed, known to the honest townsfolk as Deceit, had owned this shop for nearly a decade, kept in business only by the fact that he was the sole provider of general goods in Milagre.

 

The old man reached the desk before Enri and Markus, so they hung back patiently, waiting their turn. The farmer put his chosen tools on the counter and fished a shaking hand into the pouch at his belt to fish out his meager supply of coins. Deceed looked over the man and his pitiful collection of coins, and Enri thought he saw a sense of cunning in the man’s eyes.

 

“Two silvers for the tools,” Deceed stated, his voice soft and sibilant. The old man reacted with shock, immediately stammering an offended reply.

 

“B-but the tags say two coppers a piece!” The old man protested.

 

Deceed was unswayed. “Perhaps, but that’s the last of my stock you’re taking. For that, it’s an increased price.”

 

Behind Enri, Markus made a quiet sound of disgust. Enri glanced back just long enough to see the disgust on Markus’ face as well and stepped forward. Deceed looked at him as he moved closer to the counter, his eyes instantly squinting suspiciously, a crafty light entering them.

 

“Don’t let him fool you, sir. He has more tools in the back.” Enri leaned onto the counter, staring directly at Deceed, whose face showed a momentary sign of shock at Enri’s words, though he hurriedly rearranged his face again.

 

“Preposterous,” Deceed whined in reply. “You walk into my shop, and accuse me of lying?”

 

Even as he delivered the challenge, his eyes dropped away from Enri’s and to the side. Enri smiled inwardly at the reaction, confirming the truth for himself.

 

“Of course not.” He said smoothly, then fished two silver coins from his own coin pouch. “But nonetheless, I will not allow you to strip this man of all his savings just because you feel you’re entitled to nearly triple profits.”

 

He slammed the two silver coins onto the countertop, staring at Deceed with a glare. At first, Deceed opened his mouth to deny that he was doing anything of the sort, but the cold look in the younger man’s eyes gave him pause. Instead, he gave a short hmph, swept the coins up and hid them in a pocket in his apron, then tossed the purchased tools into a bag carelessly. The elderly man took the tools from him, then bobbed his head in appreciation, and shambled out of the shop.

 

Deceed had moved to a ledger on the side, apparently occupied with making a few entries into the large book. Only when Enri coughed to get his attention did the weedy man look up. “What do you want?”

 

Enri frowned again at the rudeness but ignored it as he leaned over the counter. “Equipment repair tools, and a tinderbox.”

 

Deceed scowled as he pulled the items requested from a shelf on his side of the counter. The tools were rusty and looked heavily used, and the tinder box was dented and obviously opened. Enri’s frown deepened as he looked at the low quality of the items offered, and he shook his head.

 

“Don’t toy with me, Deceed. Try anything underhanded like that again, and we’ll have words.”

 

Deceed sneered at him, but withdrew new and better version from under the counter, slamming them down in place of the others. “Eight coppers.” He said peremptorily, holding out his hand. Enri pulled a silver out of his pouch, dropped it onto the counter, and snatched up the tools. Pausing only to shove them into his pack, he and Markus exited the shop, noting that night had truly fallen outside, and the streets were almost completely empty.

 

“So what now?” Markus asked. He thought momentarily of returning to the barracks for the night, then remembered that he was no longer a trainee. He’d never spent a night in Milagre outside of the barracks. He’d moved to the city specifically for training, after all, and he had been dedicated. He’d never spent much time to explore the city, and as such he’d learned very little about it over the past two years.

 

Enri considered. They could go to the Cradle’s Rest, a clean, well-kept, and reasonably priced inn, but Enri knew what he really wanted to do.

 

“Ever been to The Heron?” He asked Markus. He knew that his companion had always been absorbed by his training. Unsurprisingly, Markus shook his head. The Heron was famous, so of course, he’d heard of it, but it was the best restaurant in the city, which wasn’t something that a trainee could afford too regularly.

 

Enri smirked slightly, guessing at the thoughts going through Markus’ mind. “Right then. Come on, it’ll be my treat.”

 

Markus didn’t hesitate in the slightest but followed immediately. It didn’t take them long to reach the busy tavern, and his stomach growled in anticipation as the scent of roasting meat drifted down the street towards them. Upon opening the door, the warm air and noise contained within flooded over them, causing Markus to hesitate as his senses, considerably sharper than a human’s, took in the cacophony of scents and sounds. Enri felt no sense of hesitation having been raised around the building, and walked into the noisy interior eagerly.

 

As it had been the night before, the taproom was bustling. It was a bit busier than the previous night, as the weekly market had finished properly and many visiting merchants were inside, enjoying one more of Mandra’s fine meals before departing. Enri beckoned Markus to a table in the corner, empty save for one man. The stranger looked to be Enri’s age, and he was scrawling in a small notebook. He didn’t look like much trouble, so Markus shrugged and the pair approached the table.

 

“Mind if we join you?” Enri asked politely, getting the man’s attention.

 

The stranger looked up from his notebook, and Markus uttered an oath in surprise. Enri kept his own reaction more controlled, but he’d felt the same moment of shock. The black-haired stranger’s iris’ were glowing a deep violet, and emitting a soft glow in the dim light that surrounded them. The stranger, noticing their reactions, quickly blinked, and the effect was gone, his eyes returning to a dull brown. He offered a slightly apologetic smile, and patted the seat next to him.

 

“Yes of course! Sorry, I was reading a few new magicks I found the other day, and I needed a little help to understand them!”

 

Warily, Enri sat down on the indicated seat. Markus sat down across from the stranger, staring at him suspiciously. Now that the glow was gone from the stranger’s eyes, Enri was able to take in the rest of his features, which also included a strange silver streak that ran through his hair. He wondered briefly if it was the result of magic, or if he’d simply died it. Before he could come to a conclusion, the stranger held out his hand in greeting.

 

“I’m Samuel Bragg, cartographer, and servant of the God of Knowledge. I take it you’re Enri Ciayol?”

 

Enri took the hand and shook it, feeling bemused. “Yes, that’s me. How did you know my name?”

 

Samuel waved his free hand dismissively. “No worries, I’m not a spy or anything. I heard your name from Mandra. Also, I’ve lived in Milagre quite a while, so I remember you.”

 

Bragg moved his gaze to Markus then, extending his hand again. “Ah! And you must be Markus Ciayol, the promising recruit from the Plains Clans!”

 

Enri saw, to his surprise, that Markus did not look surprised or shocked. Instead, a frown formed on his brow as he shook Samuel’s hand. “You seem familiar. Where do I know you from?”

 

Samuel’s smile widened, seeming genuinely pleased that Markus had remembered him, even if it was a vague recollection. “Ah, that would be the time that I visited your clan’s home, in search of stories and magicks to add to my collection! If I remember correctly, you’re Dranis’ son, right?”

 

Now the frown disappeared as Markus remembered. “Yes, that was my father. But you look no different than you did then, and that was nearly twenty years ago!”

 

Samuel winked conspiratorially and retrieved his hand. Then he leaned back in his chair, hooking his arms over the back of his chair and kicking his booted feet up onto the table top. Knowing how stupid of an action this was in Mandra’s shop, Enri looked around nervously for the landlady, but breathed a bit easier when he realized that she had the night off. Turning back to Samuel, he leaned forward.

 

“You said you’re a cartographer? I think I’ve seen some of your work before.”

 

Samuel grinned easily, having noticed his nervous reaction. “That’s right. It’s not very exciting, but it pays the bills alright. I’m not surprised that you’ve seen my work, as I’m the only cartographer in the city.”

 

Enri was surprised to hear this but realized that it suited his purposes even better to have met Samuel here. “Do you have any detailed maps of the route from here to Draco?”

 

Samuel pursed his lips thoughtfully at the question. He could have leaned forward to retrieve the notebook on the table, but he merely made a lazy beckoning gesture at it, causing it to fly straight to his hand. Opening it to a seemingly random page, he ran a finger down some kind of list inside.

 

“Hmm… It looks like I have the area marked, but currently,” He trailed off as he flicked a few pages forward, then finished. “Looks like I don’t have any maps made up. A merchant came through last week and bought the last few I had.”

 

He hummed thoughtfully for a few seconds until Enri interrupted his thoughts. “How much would it cost to have a new one made by tomorrow?”

 

Samuel’s eyes widened. “That quickly, eh? Not a worry. Just bung me three silvers, and I’ll make it right now.”