It had been three days now since our wagon train had left Sancthaven, and according to Grey, we were making good time. Our destination was a good-sized mining town in the mountainous equatorial region of the continent named Silvercrest. From what the Agent had told us, there were elements of the Uprising waiting there to receive the former hostages that we were escorting.
Speaking of, they were doing all right so far. Sure, there were complaints about the bumpy nature of the ride, but nothing serious. I didn’t blame the kids for complaining too much, as, well, you know. Children. But it was a little funny that some of the adults were a bit huffy about their accommodations. C’mon, guys. You were just locked up in a prison cell not too long ago. I got the impression that some of them had never experienced much hardship in life.
They’d survive a bit of a rocky terrain.
Hell, it was worse on the driver's bench. After the first day, my ass went completely numb. I still didn’t feel it.
Either way, there weren’t many of the adults in the first place. There were a total of thirty-six former hostages that we were escorting, and only about seven of those had been full-grown adults. The rest ranged from ages as low as seven, all the way up to around sixteen. The teens had actually impressed me. They had really stepped up to help manage and take care of the younger ones.
Today we had officially entered into the barest reaches of the Duchy of Helstein, which the town of Silvercrest resided in. Our surroundings had been gradually changing on the drive, with the vegetation thinning out. By now we were definitely in a mountainous desert region. Pretty high elevation too, I think. I’d noticed the air becoming a bit thinner. These weren’t old, friendly-looking mountains either. The sharp, bladelike spires of distant mountains dominated the horizon. They looked mean, treacherous, and more likely to shank you than welcome you. From the barest amount of geology I’d learned in school, I guessed that this range was very young.
Still, they made for a good view.
For now, the day’s drive had ended. We’d set up camp in the shadow of a nearby hill and built a bonfire to stave off the encroaching fall chill. I wasn’t entirely certain when the seasons changed on Vereden, but it sure felt like it was about to be winter on this planet. I shivered and scooted a bit closer to the fire.
We’d already had our dinner from the rations that came with the wagons. They weren’t anything special, just like the wagons themselves, but it was at least something to fill the belly with. I was starting to get a bit tired now though. I don’t think I was the only one. Most of the people I knew, including a majority of my companions, had already bedded down for the night. However, I’d been chosen for the first watch tonight. Venix used to take on all caravan guard duties, but…
The Antium man was still comatose, resting in Grey’s wagon.
I’d just have to take Honoka’s word that he was going to be fine.
I was startled out of my introspection by the sound of someone sitting next to me. Looking over, I found that it was Woodrick, holding a wrapped package of some kind under his right arm. The normally confident Sculpted gave me a wan smile.
I…hadn’t actually spoken much to Woodrick. He might be part of our collective leadership with Grey and Honoka, but the guy had been pretty solemn since Caer Drarrow. My guess was the death of Aurum was weighing heavier on him than it did the rest of us. Presumably, he had known the golden Sculpted much longer than I had.
“A good night,” Woodrick said quietly, breaking the silence near us. He nodded to the horizon, where Elys was displaying a waning crescent moon. “Did you know, the Sculpted have a particular relationship with the moon?”
I turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? What do you mean?”
Woodrick leaned back on his palms, still gazing out at Elys. “Beyond the fact that everyone knows Grey has some kind of relationship with Elys, it was the first thing that most Sculpted saw. The Second Initialization happened at night, you know? Instead of being essentially born under the warm glow of the sun, the Sculpted came to be under the silver light of a full moon.”
“But not you right? You were already aware by that time. Aurum,” I said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Aurum told me that you were already fighting for Sculpted independence by the time of the Second Initialization.”
Woodrick’s eyes flickered my way at the mention of the deceased. Nonetheless, he nodded. “Yeah. While Sylvia might have been the first of us to come to in old Greycton’s tower, I was the second. I’m roughly a year younger than her, though. I was…owned by a kindly old farming couple up north around Hollow Hill. They were pretty shocked when I suddenly started speaking back to them, you know.” He laughed at something, not explaining.
Still, I could imagine. I chuckled as well.
“Still,” Woodrick sighed. “I…didn’t come over here to talk about old times. I came about Aurum.”
I sat up straighter. “What about him?”
Woodrick gazed down at the package resting on his lap. “Funny enough, Aurum in particular loved the moon. Despite being so gold and bright, he loved the hue of cool moonlight. In fact,” He said, looking up and leaning in with a sudden mischievous grin. “He used to have a little crush on Sylvia, you know? We think he might have been one of the first Sculpted to develop even fleeting romantic feelings.” He laughed lowly, before his grin faded. His gaze fell on the package again. He handed it to me with a melancholy look on his wooden features. “I want you to have this.”
I took it, confused. I was surprised at how heavy the wrapped package was. Meeting Woodrick’s eyes briefly, I looked down and undid the twine holding it closed. Brushing the cloth away, I felt my breath hitch in my chest at what was revealed to my eyes.
Lying in the package were two bars of solid gold, shining under the light of the bonfire.
It couldn’t be…
I carefully set the package down before looking back up at Woodrick. “Is this…?” I didn’t even want to finish the sentence, in case it was offensive.
Nevertheless, Woodrick nodded. “It is. I learned that your friend Azarus was an accomplished smith back with the pirates, and asked for his assistance. I…don’t suppose you’re familiar with Sculpted funerary traditions?”
“I didn’t even know you guys had any,” I said with wide eyes, glancing back down at the bars of gold.
“Well, we do. Obviously, they’re young, but it’s arisen in the last years among the endless conflict. Let’s be honest here,” Woodrick laughed mirthlessly. “Sculpted aren’t flesh. Most of us aren’t made of things that are going to rot easily. We’re made from materials that are useful in other circumstances. Unlike you fleshies, we don’t believe in being buried or cremated or even sent out to sea. We want to be useful in some manner, even after our passing.”
I blinked rapidly in shock.
“Upon the death of a Sculpted, we generally request that our bodies are…processed for the raw materials. Then, those materials are distributed to the comrades of the departed. I’m not sure if you know this, but the materials that Sculpted are made from become highly mystically charged. Perfect for crafting. We ask that they use those materials with their Professions to create something useful. This way, the recipient is both generating Impact for their own advancement, and so they can have something to help protect them. It’s our way of looking out for those we leave behind,” Woodrick finished solemnly.
Oh.
I see.
I looked back down at the solid bars of gold that Woodrick had gifted me, wrought from the corpse of Aurum. God…
This was so morbid.
“Look,” I said to Woodrick, uncomfortable. “I…appreciate it, but I’m not sure Aurum would have wanted me to have this. You see-” I explained to the curious wooden man how Aurum had grown almost frightened of me during the fighting in Caer Drarrow.
Still, Woodrick only shook his head with a sigh. “Don’t worry about it,” He said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Seriously. Aurum was…a very innocent soul, despite the conflict he found himself embroiled in. It was a consistent issue with him. He was uncomfortable with the realities and brutalities of war, but didn’t generally hold grudges against people. I’m sure if he had survived, you would have been able to patch things up with him.”
If he had survived.
I took a deep breath and nodded at Woodrick. “All right. Okay. If you’re sure. But, uh,” I trailed off for a moment, distracted by the shine of the gold for a moment. “I…have no idea what to use this for.” Not that I was up to making anything right now. My crafting had kind of fallen to the wayside with the loss of my arm. I’d found that I could still do it, of course. Aetherial Melding didn’t really need the use of both arms. I just…hadn’t been in a very creative mood.
Even though I really needed to replace my spare retractable spear. I hadn’t been able to find it in the ruins of Caer Drarrow.
Woodrick chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t expect you to jump up and begin crafting anytime soon. I know you have more pressing concerns,” He said, nodding at the stump of my left arm. “Just keep it in mind. All I ask is that you don’t simply sell it off.”
No problem there. I’d feel like a monster if I did that.
Woodrick didn’t leave after that. He kept me company during my watch for the rest of the night.
It was…nice.
The next day, we finally reached the town of Silvercrest.
It was built at the base of a particularly tall mountain that stretched up high into the sky. If I squinted my eyes, I could even see its snow-capped peak.
Hah, okay. I got it.
The town itself was pretty large. Bigger than anything I’d seen in Herztal, it still wasn’t as sprawling as Rhoscara. It hugged the base of the mountain, even crawling a good amount up the face of it. It was a rugged town, without any particularly tall buildings. Instead, the tallest structures in the town were from smokestacks, billowing coal-black smoke into the air. Everything else in Silvercrest looked to be squat and functional, to my eyes.
If I’m being honest, the town itself was a bit…shall we say, utilitarian. Even Marrowmist had been more charming to my eyes than this place. I’d been expecting a better-looking town than this, from an elegant-sounding name like ‘Silvercrest’.
At least the mountains were nice to look at.
At the sight of the town, Grey had called a halt to our wagon train. Those of us who were driving the train had jumped down from our benches at Grey’s gesturing and approached him. When I reached him, Grey was observing the town with a far eye.
“Ah-hah!” He exclaimed in satisfaction. He motioned for me to take it from him, pointing to the gates of Silvercrest. I took the device from him and looked through it.
Outside the gates, I could see a small encampment of soldiers. Flying above the camp was the blue and white flag of the Uprising.
I lowered the far eye and glanced over at Woodrick who had joined us. “Looks like you’re linking up with your guys soon.”
Woodrick’s wooden brow raised in surprise, accepting the far eye from me. He looked through it himself. “Look like it,” He said in satisfaction.
“It appears that Agent Weston was correct, then,” Grey said. “Silvercrest should be safe to approach. Come. The Uprising awaits us, in the shadow of Mt. Helgar.”
