Dark Age Year 871
Twenty Third of the Eighth month
Staring out the window of the Navertin Trade Embassy of Ammos was Tharos. From outside the window, he could see the famous port of Ammos, for which the city was renowned. Miles of clear blue ocean and sky stretched before him, adorned with banners and sails of many peoples and nations, some unfamiliar to him. Seated in the trade embassy, he observed boats arriving, carrying cargo and passengers, including slaves and warriors seeking fortune in the brutal conflicts between city-states, kingdoms, warlords, and aspiring tyrants.
The trade embassy itself was a massive stone and marble building, several stories high, with warehouses large enough to accommodate a small village. The hallways were filled with exotic scents of spices, perfumes, and other fragrances of unknown origin, while the sounds of ink on parchment and cargo being moved echoed through the halls. Tharos found this atmosphere relaxing and charming, reminiscent of his home in some ways.
Boats were constantly arriving, transporting cargo and passengers, many of whom were slaves or warriors from foreign lands seeking opportunities in the ongoing conflicts. Additionally, wagons filled with bodies were being brought into the ports, with sea gulls and other birds picking at the deceased flesh. A significant portion of the city’s population had perished in the plague that hit the city of Ammos. To manage the overwhelming number of bodies, the city officials resorted to burning them outside the city or using fire ships, a method employed by certain northern clans of wilders.
He was thankful he was inside because the smell outside was dreadful. The smoke from the fires, the sickly sweet smell from the rotting corpses, and the salty sea spray of the sea created a smell that was awful to behold. If he could puke, he certainly would in this moment. As he picked at his food, a simple beef stew with some spices and a glass of wine, he heard a knock at the door. Turning his head, he saw Jabari walk in, carrying a massive coin pouch of gold talents along with what looked like a well-embroidered piece of paper. As Jabari walked over and placed the coin pouch on the table, he heard Jabari speak up.
“Here is the rest of your payment, five hundred gold talents in full, along with…” Jabari paused for a moment before handing him the piece of paper. “This is a writ.” Looking at the paper quickly, Tharos could see it was a writ that gave him massive discounts for any service or goods he required from any Navertin Trade Embassy in Aria.
“My superiors read my report, and they decided that a small bonus was in order,” Jabari stated rather matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t think they would believe you,” he said to him, raising his eyebrow slightly.
“Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t. However, they know my words are truthful. This isn’t the first time I have encountered things outside the norm.”
“A merchant that tells the truth. That is an oxymoron if I have ever heard one.” Jabari gave a small smile at that.
“Tharos, I believe you, of all people, know that the greatest lies have a grain of truth in them.”
“If you continue to speak the truth like that, you might damage the reputation of all merchants.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Jabari said with a small shrug. “However, as long as lies contain a hint of truth, who will question them unless they have first-hand knowledge? You are a perfect example of that.”
Tharos looked at Jabari now, his eyes focused on him. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Well, although you do a good job of hiding it, I have never met someone who can heal injuries and wounds effortlessly, or who doesn’t need to blink or breathe for minutes if not hours at a time, or whose eyes glow faintly in the moonlight like dim candles.”
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees the moment Jabari uttered those words. Tharos, without hesitation, drew his blade and was poised to strike Jabari, aiming for his neck. However, before he could make the fatal move, Jabari swiftly caught the blade with both hands and spoke in a soothing tone, as if trying to diffuse the tension.
“Do not worry, my friend. Your secrets, whatever they may be, will be safe with me. We all have things we wish to keep to ourselves. Knowledge is power after all, and I believe you have your reasons for keeping these things close to your chest.”
Tharos paused, sheathing his sword back into its scabbard. “How much do you know?”
“Enough to know you’re not an ordinary person. At first, I thought you were some sort of mage or perhaps a chi arts user. Maybe even a creature like a vampire. However,” Jabari reached into his coat pocket and retrieved what appeared to be a metal stick with two metal prongs, one blue and the other red.
“This is a type of divining rod we use in my homeland. We have many mages and chi arts users from across who come to our fair city. Some of them try to conceal their powers, so we use items like this to uncover them if they haven’t disclosed their abilities to the city officials. We maintain stricter regulations in our city compared to most of Aria.” Jabari then stowed the divining rod away and paused.
“I had heard numerous rumours about you, some quite outlandish. After witnessing you in combat, I began to believe there might be some truth to these rumours, especially after seeing some of your extraordinary abilities first-hand. I had a sense that you were something unique.”
“Being unique isn’t always a good thing, Jabari. Most of the time, such uniqueness causes isolation, or in the worst case, being targeted by some mage. Who wants to vivisect you.”
“I am not here to question your identity or purpose. I have a proposition for you, if you are willing to listen. If not, you are free to leave, and we can both pretend this conversation never occurred.”
“Go on,” Tharos said, intrigued to see where this conversation would lead. While Jabari had caught him off guard, he was curious to learn more.
“In the future, I may need someone with your skills to assist with certain matters. Matters we must discreet.”
“Will the rewards be generous?” Tharos inquired.
“I believe you will find the rewards quite substantial,” Jabari replied.
“Alright, count me in,” Tharos said with a smile as he shook Jabari’s hand. “I will be heading to the city of Sanctus by the end of the year. My superiors has tasked me with taking over operations there. If you ever find yourself in the area, feel free to visit me, and we can discuss further business opportunities.”
“You are quite the opportunist, aren’t you?” Tharos remarked.
“It’s the nature of being a merchant, I’m afraid. You can’t escape it, no matter how hard you try,” Jabari explained.
“Indeed,” Tharos nodded as he collected his payment and left his unfinished stew and wine on the table. As he was about to exit the door, he turned to Jabari. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.” Jabari gave him a small nod in return. “The same to you as well.”
As Tharos left the building and travelled down the street of Ammos towards the tavern where he and his companions were staying, the only things he could see, hear, or smell during his journey were the scent of rotting and burning corpses, the sound of roaring fires, the cries and screams of the mourning, and the buzzing of flies. Cenric was right to a point; if they had arrived a bit sooner, maybe they could have saved more people, but that was irrelevant to him. People were going to die regardless, and to Tharos, this job was like every other job he had taken so far—just a means to an end.
As he stood at the tavern entrance, he saw a picture of a blue fish with “The Blue Carp” written in large bold letters in the Aria trade script. Walking through the doorway and scanning the room, he noticed some patrons eyeing him with hungry looks, some with hands on their hilts of weapons as he entered. Tharos, however, ignored them as he didn’t have time for petty battles and headed to his table in the corner of the bar where Rayner and Cenric were waiting for him.
As they saw him, Rayner gestured for him to join them, while he and Cenric were eating and drinking some meat and vegetables with local beer. They were diving into the food like hungry wolves who hadn’t eaten in several days. As Tharos sat down and took a few sips of beer, along with some bread, Rayner spoke up, his mouth full and bread dripping down his face as he spoke.
“So, milk drinker, how did it go?”
“Well, he got paid in full, along with a small bonus.”
“They better have,” Rayner said as he slowed down his mouthful of food. “Those goblins were a pain.”
“Well, Jabari wants me, and by extension, all of you to help him with jobs in the future that need to be off the books, as he says.”
“As long as it pays well in coin, I don’t care what the job is,” Rayner replied.
“Are you sure we should be getting involved with things like that?” Cenric asked.
Before Tharos could answer, Rayner beat him to it. “Well, you’re a mercenary now, and a job is a job. Complaining is for milk drinkers and weaklings. Are you a milk drinker or a weakling?”
For a moment, Cenric didn’t answer, as if he was contemplating his response. Eventually, he replied, “No,” but Tharos wasn’t entirely convinced that Cenric truly meant it. Rayner persisted, “When I was your age, I didn’t eat as well as you do now. So consider yourself lucky.” Before Cenric could say something, he decided to speak up.
“Cenric, I understand that you don’t like some of the things we have to do. But didn’t you tell me yourself that you wanted to be strong? Consider these jobs as part of your training. Unless you want to leave our side, I will not force you to stay. But if you are to travel with us, you have to pull your own weight. Rayner and I will not always be around to protect you.”
Cenric then gave a small nod. “I understand, and I will try to do my best from now on.” Tharos gave him a small smile and patted him on the shoulder.
“That’s all I ask for. Let’s finish up here and leave. I’m afraid if we stay any longer, we might catch this plague,” Tharos said, glancing over his shoulder. On the other side of the table, a small group of mercenaries seemed to be eyeing them, possibly looking for a fight. “Unless you want to entertain a tavern brawl, I’d rather not end up in the city dungeons again. Unlike last time.” Tharos paused and looked at Rayner. “I don’t have an officials daughter to manipulate her father into getting us out of trouble. This time.”
“What a shame, a milk drinker like you couldn’t find a skirt to chase,” Rayner retorted, chugging down a mug of beer before bursting into a chorus of boyish laughter. The three of them then gathered their things, gave the tavern owner the coin they owed, and left the city of Ammos for good. Their destination was the city of Sanctus deep in the heartlands of Aria, with the bright sun and cloudless sky lighting their way.
The end.
