Chapter 1 - The Stranger at the Inn

 

The Magestarium Tower was built in the first decade of Emperor Gulag’s rule. Tall and strikingly so, it would often seem a monstrous creation when seen from afar but even from a short distance, it resembled nothing more than a terrifying spire of darkness. Built among the ruins of the fallen city of Wynlaf, it was constructed by the Emperor with the sole purpose of imprisoning his greatest and most feared enemy – the Canton of Magi, or what we more commonly refer to as mages.

The worker folk and the peasantry often feared magic, understandably so, it was a nefarious thing and terribly hard to control even for those adept in its art, though there was also superstition added to it. But Emperor Gulag, who had been a learned nobleman himself, held a nervous and shaky disposition towards magic for reasons he never elaborated. So, with the shared council of his advisors, he devised plans for building a tower where he could have his trusted Paladin Knights keep a close eye on those born with the ability to perform magic.

Mages are usually rare in a population. In a populace of a million people among the Northern Continent, one in every hundred children were said to be born with a natural connection to the otherworldly force. These children upon showing the signs of magical ability, which were unique for every individual, would be seized upon by members of the Paladin Knights called Seekers who would then take them away from their parents to be trained in the newly constructed Magestarium Tower.

There were other more complicated things that often interfered with the running of the Magestarium Tower but all in all, it stood tall for numerous centuries – five to be exact. For five centuries, the Paladin Knights became the eternal shepherds that kept a tight leash on magicians and magic slowly but steadily faded from the world.

Though once the Paladins had served a different purpose altogether their order had now been modified to adhere to the strictest of principles that had been set in stone by Emperor Gulag centuries ago – To close the doors on magic and keep it within the walls of the Magestarium, forever locked away from humanity.

All of this crumbled, however, when on an uneventful summer day, screams echoed from within the walls of the Tower and blood poured down its bricks. In a phenomenon that could only be explained as unnatural, the Tower fell, burying itself under tons of mortar and cement and returning to the ruin it had been built out of. Of the Tower’s occupants, not many managed to survive.

Two days later as evening fell upon the land, a lonesome teenage boy walked into an inn in the village of Rowenloft, a small farming community located within a day’s ride to the Magestarium Tower. A hood was drawn over his head and his clothes were ragged.

His name was Ewan. Years later, he would be known by a different name in a different form. But the legend of his stature would be unsurpassable. His beginnings were tied to the Magestarium closely, for he was one of the survivors of its fall…

 

An excerpt from The Magestarium History

Authored by Aldous Parsley

Year Unknown

 

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After traveling for two continuous days on an empty stomach and on feet that burned with exhaustion, Ewan felt as if he could lie among the desolate weed growing on the sides of the road and still find sleep. His arms wrapped around his stomach, his shoulders slumped and his posture bent, he dragged his feet along the beaten path as the sight of a far off village in the distant horizon swam into his vision.

Finally, he thought with an overpowering sense of relief. Now it was only a matter of carrying himself the rest of the distance, which was easier said than done with the dastardly sense of fatigue weighing down his limbs. But at least now I have hope.

Two hours ago, he had been walking through a forest, the trees and foliage thick around him. The green canopy had extended oppressively overhead consuming whatever there was to be seen of the neat blue sky. Standing in the semi-darkness, shadowed by trees, he had wondered if he was lost. It was quite possible, as he had never seen a map of the Northern Continent nor had he been in the outdoors for years. He had after all grown up in the Magestarium Tower, where contact with the outside world was restricted to less than minimal. Not that it mattered anymore, the Tower was gone now; turned to rubble and reduced to non-existence.

He had wandered for hours within the forest, unable to find his way out, until, just as he had almost given up hope he had felt the trees clear away. Then it had just been a matter of picking the path that felt right to him; his instincts guiding him away from the dark and nameless forest. By the time he had emerged on to open roads again and seen the village in the far distance, the multitude of stars twinkled in the dark sky and the crescent moon peeked through the waning clouds.

As he walked through the empty evening streets of the village he eventually neared a building with a sign at its door, which he interpreted as the Mug & Ale, the local inn-stop of the village. Having been sheltered within the Magestarium since his childhood, he had no idea what this building was or its purpose. He could, however, hear the clamor and din of heavy laughter emerging from within the illuminated indoors of the establishment. It was welcoming to hear the familiar warmth of human voices and without meaning to Ewan knocked upon the stout wooden door immediately drawing silence from within. The door jerked open and a pair of hands seized him as darkness suddenly fell upon him.

 

“Master? Wake up, Master. Are you alright Master?” said one voice.

“He is no Master. He’s just a boy. Look at his clothes my man, all torn and shredded and raggedy and poor-looking. This boy is no Master. He must be a runaway” said a second cynical voice.

“If he’s a runaway, he should stay here for tonight. He is in no state to travel” said another.

“He must have traveled plenty far from whence he came. This boy is not one of our own that much I am sure of” 

Fluttering his eyes gently, Ewan was greeted with the sight of twenty-odd men huddled around him as he himself sat at a corner table within what he guessed was the Mug & Ale building. The dim yellow light of lanterns served the dual purpose of illumination and warmth. He must have fainted from the sheer exhaustion of his journey; his body could endure only so much.

“What’s your name boy? Where are your parents?” said a man beside him with a bushy orange mustache.

“No boy, tell us where you came from” interjected another wearing the vestments of a farmer.

“What news do you bring from the outside, my boy? How are things going in the rest of the North?” asked a haggardly old man twisting his hair.

“I bring no news,” Ewan muttered eventually, extracting a brief modicum of silence from his interrogators. “No news from the North that is”

“Why were you traveling these roads alone? We here at Rowenloft do not attract many visitors. What brought you here?”

“I uh… I don’t know. I was lost, in some forest and then I walked and walked and I had this feeling. I came to your town in luck. Rowenloft did you call it? It is a good place”

“What were you running away from boy? You seem like a decent chap but you look like a refuge. Is there a war going on someplace?”

Ewan eyed his crowd, their gaze focused expectantly on his face and he flushed under the weight of their undivided attention. He had never liked drawing attention to himself and his current situation was regrettable. Yet he could see they still wanted their answers, some even curious to see what he would say.

“There is no war going on masters. You needn’t worry about that. As for my arrival, I was running away from…” he paused and wondered if he should tell them the truth - if he could tell them about the Magestarium. But as he saw their peasant clothes and their simpleton expressions, he realized that perhaps it was best left untold. “I was running away from my parents. They have treated me and my brother harshly for years. I do not wish to go into details but know that we were treated unfairly. So anyway, one day I decided to run away and seek my life elsewhere. But then I got lost see and I was lucky enough to stumble upon your village and by lieu upon this door.”

The men looked perplexed yet strangely satisfied with his proclamation. They lingered on for a while, all eyeing him curiously and some nervously observed his torn attire. Ewan wished someone would give him new clothes; a warm bath would also be duly appreciated but no one approached him with such an offer so he sat quietly in the corner. In ones and twos, the men trickled away to their own tables and resumed their natural conservation amidst themselves, though Ewan was sure that for many of them he was the topic of discussion. Some even eyed him from time to time while he flushed some more under their unwanted gaze.

Unable to mask his notoriety, he eventually resigned himself to unsuccessfully hiding in the shadowy corner. There was a dull burning on his left shoulder skin and he gently massaged it without paying much attention to it mentally.

“And what shall I be getting you good sir?” asked the serving girl appearing at his side and startling him out of his reverie.

“Getting me what?” Ewan asked suspiciously upon recovering his wits.

She looked at him puzzled and eventually just shrugged, “Some beer then?”

“Why would I need a beer?”

“For drinking? My, you are a strange one aren’t you!”

Ewan flushed a deep purple. He managed, however, to keep a straight face as she set down a mug of beer and cleaned his table-top with a rag. Fidgeting nervously, he decided that maybe he should just tell her the truth.

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t really been outside in a long while. I really don’t know much of… well, anything. What is this place?”

Her eyes were confused but her expression was steady. As Ewan made out, she wasn’t a great beauty but the innocence of youth was still on her features. She took a brief look around her before seating herself opposite him.

“I thought you were lying, but that expression on your face says otherwise. You really don’t know what this building is, do you?”

“No,” he answered.

She sighed, “I always get the strange ones. And Uncle said this job would be straightforward, a bunch of horseshit! Well, what can you do”

He waited patiently for her to start addressing his questions even as she sat for a while ruminating on her own misfortunes.

“What’s your name?” she asked eventually.

He answered back.

“Well Ewan, this place is an inn. As long as you have coin in your pocket we offer drinks, some warm food and lodgings.”

“Lodgings?”

“A roof over your head and a bed under it”

“I see”

“I’m glad that you do. And now I must be off lest my Uncle starts cutting my wage for entertaining strangers with idle talk. In fact, I can already see him glaring at me. If you need more help come by tomorrow evening, that’s when you’ll find me here”

“Thank you…”

“Maeve,” she replied.

“Thank you Maeve,” he said nodding his head. “One last thing before you go?”

“Yes?”

“Coins? What did you mean coins?”

“Oh boy”

      

Carrying a pouch full of coins which had most graciously been lent by Maeve from her own savings, Ewan walked to the inn-keeper and placed the pouch of coins on the counter and said, “A room for the night please”

Maeve’s uncle, the inn-keeper, was middle-aged with more grey streaks in his beard and hair than his natural dark brown. He eyed Ewan’s shoddy attire and his exhausted visage with narrowed eyes, obviously trying to ascertain his less than convincing appearance. Faltering under the close scrutiny of the man, Ewan flushed as he wished he changed into more normal clothes, his ragged appearance was attracting too much attention.

“Ten shinglings is enough for the night,” the inn-keeper muttered finally eying the pouch on the counter.

“Oh, so that would be ten bronze coins right?” Ewan asked unsurely as he slowly picked out the coins from the pouch.

The man simply narrowed his eyes further at this strange question. Don’t you dare flush, Ewan thought to himself as he rubbed his shoulder more vigorously. Over the last hour, the burning sensation on the shoulder skin had developed into a more painful kind of ache and now he found it mildly discomforting. The Magestarium Seal was branded into that portion of his skin, however, it had never pained him before; it had always been a painless tattoo. What was causing it to burn so fiercely now?

“Come along, your room is upstairs,” the man said picking up a lantern and leading him towards the staircase in the next room.

But before they could leave, the pain in his shoulder flared and Ewan gripped his shoulder hard, fingernails digging into skin as he fell to the hard oak floor. The door to the inn burst open. A figure in a dark traveler’s cloak entered the hushed room and without warning he looked directly at Ewan lying on the ground. That’s when he noticed the two daggers hanging from his belt.

Oh no…         

 

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