LUGNET News : ~1112/Fantasy/Crocodile


Matt Hein / Fantasy / Crocodile

An unexpected purchase.

He had stepped within the boundaries of the small city already, its rolling hills and thickly overgrown forests scattered about the horizon, as though they were an endless, somewhat idyllic paradise.

The roads, finely crafted streets of cobblestone and mortar stretched about the small city as merchants carting their carriages congregated about the streets, the fiery hued autumn leaves scattered and rustling about the mercantile citidel.

As a strong wind approached from the east, blowing about the signs and windmills near the emerald hills of the city, the sun in the distance seemed to set, casting its golden light about the cool evening breeze.

Even as he stepped into this village of Victorian and draconian styled architecture, elegant, yet hospitable, Icaros felt as though he were back at home in that small countryside hamlet he had left all those years ago, when his family was forced into exile after the near-war with LaGuardia.

That had been a somewhat perilous era, about twenty years ago, but those times had passed by, just like storm or light breeze.

But…this…was slightly different, even though he could sense the essence of integrity within the town, the acrid smoke of the smithy, the wafting scent of the local bakery, and the cries of the merchants and local artisans hawking their goods to passing customers.

There had been something about it, almost nostalgic, that had drawn him back here. After all, being a traveling wizard, and practitioner of alchemy, it was off that he could be drawn to something like this.

“Yeah, good old Valencia Trade city…” The man thought to himself, as he looked ahead towards the towering cathedral in the distance. Amongst the facade of the small trading city, the emerald forests and mountains rise about the distance casting a sort of awe inspiring picturesque landscape, one that usually would have came from a freshly painted fresco, or a rendition by one of Faiye’s established artistes.

Even the sky, its clouds and streams of mists, seemed to be alight in an array of fire and ice, a contrast between azure and crimson, Icaros knew nightfall would set its unrelenting eyes upon the city shortly, to cast it into a shadow of mystique, only to be looked upon by the crescent moon, and would-be merchant hawkers.

It had been a somewhat subtle day already for Icaros, his robe pockets already loaded with such amenities as tonic, alchemical components and trinkets of the old world. Not to mention several volumes of “Mercanter’s Guide to composite magic advanced level”, but he had seen his share of beasts in the forest, most of them wolf like creatures with a penchant for buggery, and outright burden.

Stepping into this quaint city, the oily street lamps already lit, and the silhouette of the forested mountain ahead creeping forth, he had noticed that most of the townspeople had already called it a day, heading back into their domiciles. Perhaps to continue hawking their goods and going about their business the next day, the moon could already be seen in the sky, in just a faint outline.

As he strolled down the cobblestone street, past several of the more prodigal citizens, he oddly noticed few cast him glances of curiosity, which seemed so common in the cities of Faiye and LaGuardia.

Burdened with the weight of his alchemical wares, the wizard turned towards one of the more opulant taverns of the city, near the local inn, as he stood on the street corner of the city, looking towards it. Standing to the side of a small straw roofed apothecary, the wizard searrched his pockets quickly for some currency, as a squire lit an iron strees lamp to his side.

The outside of the pub seemed extravagant enough, as several wizards and other travellers conversed about the outside of it, the wizard surveying his sorroundings with substantial discretion.

The air about the pub, a sweet wafting essence of coffee, drew him even nearer, as Icaros thought back to the fond memories of his past. Stepping inside to see an extravagant room, a small bar to one side, several oak tables set with linen, and several old leather chairs set next to a warm fireplace, he took a seat at one of the empty tables. The atmosphere seemed welcoming, although quite noisy as the locals chatted about, several wizards lounging near the fireplace, as the beady eyes of an elk bust gazed towards them.

Closing his eyes, he once again thought about his earlier travels, and how he would possibly find a way to the sacred city of Dragonia, the order of the Phoenix.

“Might I help you, sir?” The voice of a young lady spoke, as Icaros suddenly flew back into the gaping jaws of reality. Looking forward to see a waitress standing before him, Icaros looked up, albeit somewhat nervous, as he spoke. “Of course…my apologies…”

“Good evening sir and welcome to the eminent falcon…” She spoke courteously, as Icaros procured a small parchment menu.

“I’ll be back shortly…kind of busy tonight…”

The waitress spoke, as she headed off to spirit numerous patrons of the café, as Icaros eyed the menu.

Of course traveling through the mainland from Dragonia to Valencia trade city had taken a somewhat arduous toll on Icaros, not to mention the countless encounters with wild beasts in the forests, deserts and the outskirts of the small border town scattered throughout the region.

Still rather angered at the loss of his horse earlier, he found himself at odds with time. The claws of winter would be steadily aproaching, and his funds were already deftly diminished.

Fatigue played a vital factor as well, as it had been several days as well since he had got any rest, not to mention solace of any sort.

The waitress once again approached from the back room with a small silver plate in her hands accompanied by a small ceramic pot of black steaming coffee, and the daily paper, a yellowed out parchment scroll.

Setting the plate on his linen set table, she motioned for a small gratuity, as Icaros procured from the few bronze Lucre he had, about two of them, and set them on the plate, as she left the area, an air of satisfaction about her.

Nonetheless, tomorrow he would set up shop and hopefully pull in enough Lucre to feed himself and perhaps acquire a new horse.

As he took a few sips of the surprisingly strong coffee, and set the steaming goblet back on his plate, he surveyed the ornate café, which was already filled to its brims with local artisans, mediators, and aristocrats professing theories and such.

Not surprisingly enough, a small group of wizards themselves had began to gather on one end of the café, speaking in an odd runic tongue. As he read the already yellowed out parchment scroll, the front page of the paper written about with some rather hastily scrawl lettering, Icaros could care less about the most usually pointless stories written about the paper. Albeit, a small column caught his eyes, as he took a quick look, only to be interrupted.

Even as he sat there, in the breezy café, his tattered pointy wizards hat to his side, and his robe flapping about, the waitress once again approached from the side, after speaking to a small group of people.

“Mister Blackforde, a group of businessmen have invited you to join their party.” She spoke softly, as he was thrown from his reading, into a somewhat surprised stance.

“What? How the?” Icaros thought, as he stood speechless for a moment, then speaking in an affable tone.

“First off, who are these gentlemen?” Icaros asked, as the waitress stood there, with a look of utmost candor.

“Those fine men, my friend, are several entrepreneurs from the Valencia trade council. They merely summon your presence, if I might add.” She spoke gracefully, as Icaros gathered his hat, and headed off towards the table, but not before the waitress once again held her hand out for yet another gratuity.

“Forget it…” Icaros thought, as he brushed past her, a look of surprise on her face, as he headed towards the group of wizards and businessmen, at the finely complimented linen set table ahead.

Even as he approached, several of them looked back, and motioned for him to take a seat, as Icaros nervously next to another fellow wizard, much to his senior, as a man donned in a black mao suit at the end of the table speaking softly in a somewhat affable voice.

“Welcome, my dear mister Blackforde…please take a seat…”

As Icaros pulled out one of the ornately decorated black oak chairs, he looked about the round table, its centerpiece a glistening glass dragon, as several other businessmen, some of them wizards, yet others merchants, looked upwards to greet him.

“And who might you be?” Icaros asked, as the elder wizard looked his way, after sipping some more of his tea from a bronze goblet.

“Don’t you remember, mister Blackforde? I used to be an associate of your father, he was traveling merchant himself, am I correct?”

“Yeah…what about it?” Icaros asked perplexed, as the man set the goblet down on its placemat, and pulled out a small yellowed papyrus scroll, handing it to him.

“Ah, you must forgive my formalities, Mister Blackforde, you have quite a repertoire within the boundaries of LaGuardia. I have taken some liberty to read into your dossier, and I must say you’re quite impressive…”

“Thanks for the comment…by the way, who might you be anyhow?”

“My name matters little to you Mister Blackforde, but I do summon your services. My company will soon be traveling to the imperial city Dragonia, and I humbly request you to join My party…”

“I see…so, I’ve got quite a following, eh?” Icaros replied, as he took a sip of the steaming serpent black coffee himself, and set his goblet down on the linen woven placemat.

“Of course…victor of the twelfth LaGuardian wizard’s contest, apothecary extraordinaire, and certified master wizard by the Dragonian Wizardry academy. You have quite a list of credentials, my friend…something the coalition of Feyr could greatly use in their campaign…”

“Coalition of Feyr? What are you saying? They don’t even hail from the region of Albatross, lest know anything about honor…I refuse to deal with them…”

“But, my dear sir…they are offering quite an impressive payroll…1200 Lucre…” The man spoke, as he withdrew a small burlap bag from his silk coat pocket, and dropped it on the table, several golden and silver coins spilling slightly out of the bag, as Icaros looked about it casually, a glowin his eyes, as he tried to fight back the temptation that always seemed to emanate from depths of extravagance.

“Yes, twelve hundred Lucre…that could go a long way towards keeping you on your feet…if you know what I mean…”

The man replied, as he scooped up the golden Coins, their faces sparkling with an enigmatic shine, As he placed them back in his coat pocket.

“The emperor of Feyr is a good man…all he needs is your services as a wizard...to brew him a Phoenix Potion…that isn’t much at all…”

“Well…My interests don’t directly lie within alchemical boundaries, but I would be happy to, say, brew a Tonique, or perhaps an Essence Etherile…” Icaros spoke confidently, as the older man, an entrepreneur himself cringed at the loss of his expertise.

“I mean, Mister Blackforde, the emperor of Feyr wishes nothing more than A Phoenix Potion, ‘tis nothing much, the emperor will name his price, say, Fifteen Hundred Lucre…that’s a tidy, sum, nonetheless…”

“Of course it is…but a Phoenix Feather is worth far much more, besides, I don’t have any…in fact, very few alchemists do…those are quite rare commodities themselves, those feathers of fire…”

“Than you’ll lend us your services to find one? We must search far and wide…”

“Why does the emperor of Feyr need a Phoenix Feather anyhow? He must intend to brew a somewhat potent potion? A revival perhaps?”

Icaros asked as the entrepreneur gave him a somewhat evasive look.

“That is entirely the matter of the emperor himself… matters that shouldn’t be discussed…”

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