Low-Fantasy Occultist

One moment, they were picking their way down a treacherous, ice-slicked switchback, the biting wind threatening to scour the skin from their faces. Even at his new level, it was unpleasant, but he’d learned better than to keep a constant warm draft around them, since it kept attracting pests of all kinds.

The next, the gray rock of the northern spine gave way to sweeping, rolling hills of vibrant green.

The air was immediately warmer. Fertile earth, blooming wildflowers, and the distant, underlying hum of the grassland greeted them, and Nick knew they had left the North.

He pulled his shaggy mountain horse to a halt at the crest of a low hill, looking out over the western borderlands. It felt like stepping out of a dark cellar into the sunlight.

"I didn't realize how much the cold weighed on me," Rhea murmured, bringing her mount alongside his. She loosened the thick fur collar of her cloak, letting the warm breeze catch her hair.

“The North is a hard place," Nick agreed, loosening his grip on the reins to give his poor mount some slack. They’d been making good time, and a little reward wasn’t amiss. "It takes a certain kind of grit to survive it, even more so to stay.”

Rhea looked back over her shoulder, her amber eyes scanning the snow-capped peaks they had just crossed. "I worry for Gaelen. He has the Forge and the mercenaries, but he is alone. The Royal Army must have reached the city by now, and neither Nolan nor the Duke will make it easy for him.”

"Your brother has depths those men do not know," Nick reassured her, turning his gaze back to the south. "When I first met him, I thought the curse had hollowed him out, that he was naught but a blade waiting to snap. But he is a Lord. He kept his head during the negotiations and recognized the value of the Ultimer heir when a lesser man would have simply sought blood. He might have to bend a little, but he will not break.”

Rhea offered a slow, reluctant nod. "I know, but it is difficult to leave him to the wolves.”

"You know that what you’re doing is just as important.” Nick waved her off. “Your family will benefit greatly when you finally return as a proper Master Alchemist. What will you do when we reach Floria?”

It wasn’t a subtle distraction, but it worked.

“I will have to show Master Ogden all my advances," Rhea answered instantly, a spark returning to her eyes. "If the old man is true to his word, that should satisfy the requirement to move to the next step of my apprenticeship. I want him to teach me the deeper transmutations, how to manipulate the fundamental structure of an item, not just brew poisons and poultices or cast a few basic spells.”

Considering that he’d seen her raise earthen walls three feet thick with a mere flick of her fingers, Nick would say she’d learned more than the basics, but he was not the right person to speak against ambition and eagerness to learn.

"A worthy goal," he said instead. "Floria will benefit from another Master Alchemist soon. The town is still growing, and you’ll have more than enough chances to test your brews.”

"And you?" she asked, leaning forward over her saddle horn. “It’s hard to wrap my head around what you’ve become. What does someone like you do in a border town?”

“It is my home, and I will ensure it is well protected until my father can return,” he replied softly. "And I need to test my limits. The Green Ocean is vast. Ancient things sleep in the deep woods. I need to understand my own strength before I move on to the capital.”

The beasts of the northern ranges had been enough to whet his appetite, but not enough to pose a challenge.

Oh, he’d felt greater dangers slumbering beneath the glaciers, even a flighty elemental following them through a blizzard, but facing them would have meant putting Rhea in real danger and possibly causing great destruction near populated areas.

They nudged their horses forward, riding down the long, gentle slope into the grasslands.

An hour later, they spotted a dust plume rising from the trail ahead.

It was a merchant caravan heading north. Six large wagons, pulled by teams of thick-necked draft horses, were flanked by a dozen hired guards wearing padded jacks and carrying crossbows. The wagons were painted with the sigils of various trading houses, some of which Nick recognized from his time in Alluria.

The two friends slowed their mounts, waiting for the caravan to draw near. A portly man in a fine silk tunic over his traveling leathers raised a hand, signaling his wagons to halt.

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"Well met on the road!" the merchant called out, his eyes darting between Nick’s dark coat and the alchemical vials strapped to Rhea’s saddle. He had a sharp, calculating gaze, and it was easy to take him for the leader of the lot and likely the instigator of this risky journey. "You ride from the North. Is it true? The war with the dark dwarves is finished?”

"A truce has been struck," Nick confirmed, urging his horse a few paces closer. "The First City is held by the Royal Army, and the lower tunnels are sealed. Last we heard, the Army was marching back to Toneburg to celebrate.”

The merchant clapped his hands together, a wide grin spreading across his face, and vindication echoing through the ether. "Excellent! A victory parade means the soldiers will have coin burning holes in their pockets, and the northern lords will be eager to buy southern silks and spices to stock their empty pantries. We are bound for Toneburg.”

"You will find a city rebuilding," Rhea offered. "House Elpen was restored to its seat during the chaotic lockdown days. I suggest you proceed carefully, as the Black Hounds have a strong presence and the Duke is hiding a bloody nose.”

The merchant nodded, filing the news away with an ease that suggested he’d already heard some of it. "Valuable information, my lady. I thank you. You are bound for the south?”

"We are," Nick said. "What news from Alluria?”

"Quiet, praise Her light," the merchant said, leaning back in his wagon seat. "The city has finally recovered from last year's troubles. Duke Von Alluria has taken a personal interest in policing and has tripled the watch in the poorer districts. He has his knights patrolling the trade routes now. They say he is stamping out the criminal guilds with a heavy hand. It makes for good business.”

Nick exchanged a brief glance with Rhea. A sudden, aggressive crackdown on crime was often a cover for consolidating power or preparing for a broader political move. He could only hope things were as peaceful as the man claimed, for Alluria had already lived through enough excitement for the next decade.

"We need fresh water and oats," Nick said, tossing a small silver coin to the merchant.

They didn’t, not really. He could summon as much water as he wanted for the horses and for Rhea’s needs, and he hadn’t gone hungry or thirsty since his rank-up, but it’d be strange to avoid buying supplies, and he wanted to avoid attention for now.

The man snatched it from the air with ease. "And we are happy to provide.”

They spent half an hour buying goods and sharing minor gossip before the caravan rumbled past them, its wooden wheels chewing through the dirt road, continuing its slow, lucrative crawl toward the frozen North.

Nick and Rhea resumed their southward journey.

The grasslands stretched out before them, a sea of gold undulating in the wind. The threat of monstrous encounters grew as they drew closer to the western border, but the danger had lessened significantly.

A rumble began to shake the earth not long after, one Nick was intimately familiar with.

I wonder if it was tracking the caravan and decided we’d make an easier snack. If so, it was a very poor choice.

A Rock Worm burst from the earth. It was a massive specimen, thirty feet long and as thick as a mature oak, covered in segmented plates of gray chitin. Its jaw was a circular maw of rotating teeth, designed to crush boulders and snap horses in half. Nick’s senses pegged it at the upper seventies in level, certainly dangerous enough that a caravan guarded by regular, if well-equipped, adventurers would be in real danger.

Many months ago, he’d faced a similar monster alongside Rhea, one that had forced him to dig deep into his soul to finally produce his first spiritual magic. It had posed a mortal threat then.

Now, he simply looked at the creature as it arched high into the air, preparing to strike, and felt only annoyance. He was tired of the road, tired of the dust, and tired of mindless beasts interrupting his journey when they couldn’t even have the good sense to show him something new.

That annoyance bled into the ether, and he seized it, shaping it until it was solid enough for a blunt command. Cease.

The strike slammed into the Rock Worm, freezing it mid-strike as its segmented body seized violently. The sheer might of an Eidolon's command overwhelmed the creature's primitive soul so completely that the worm shattered.

Its chitinous plates crumbled into gray dust, and its flesh dissolved into ash that the wind carried away.

Rhea blinked, wiping a speck of ash from her cheek as she looked where the monster had been. "I don't think I will ever get used to that.”