Chapter 77: Idle Chatter

Chapter 77: Idle Chatter

Arias looked around the deserted streets of Port Mari. This was just making his anxiety worse, the port was completely abandoned...

“All right, fan out, search the buildings.” Arias heard one of the captains say.

“Come on kid. You’re with me.” Conte said as he turned to look at Arias.

The pair of them approached the door of a nearby house and Arias saw Conte roughly kick the door open, breaking the lock on the door.

“Damn look at this place, Elysians live good don’t they?” Conte said as soon as he stepped into the house.

Arias entered after him and he had to agree. The house was nice, they did say Elysians lived well. They made a killing on trade, their jewellery and wine sold very well on foriegn markets. Not to mention in the past there were sex tourists who were basically wealthy individuals who ventured to Elysia to hire coutesans. Elonia, the town on the border, had a thriving red light district because of it. It was just on the other side of the Elysian Gate with a full garrison of soldiers on standby, so the bandits stayed far away from it. But this was before the border closed naturally.

Arias looked at the nice carpet and the polished wood floor. The nice wood furniture and the fancy paintings on the wall. It was a nice house, it looks like the rumours that Elysians were richer than Volerians were true.

“Check this out.” Conte said as he opened a cabinet and took out a bottle.

“Wine?” Arias asked as he walked over to Conte.

“Better, Elysian Brandy. It’s distilled from wine so it’s even stronger and it kicks like a raging bull. It's five years old... better than the swill I drink that's for sure...” Conte said as he finished with a mutter before placing the bottle on a nearby table.

Then he reached into the cabinet and began taking more bottles out. Arias silently watched as he took out three more bottles of varying shapes and labels.

“Oh hello my sweet...” Conte said as he took out one last dusty bottle, he examined the dusty label and let out a whistle of appreciation.

“Now this... they were saving this... well too bad... hehehe...” Conte said with an almost bandit-like grin.

“Open your bag.” Conte said as he took off his own backpack and he dumped it on the table. Arias did the same and he watched as Conte peered into his bag.

“You got a lot of shit in there kid.” Conte remarked as he tried to make some space in Arias’s bag.

“Letters mostly.” Arias replied as his mind wandered to the stack of letters from Rosie.

“Don’t get too attached to those kid.” Conte said as he looked up at Arias.

“We lose our packs quite often. Sometimes you have to drop your bag and run into battle. Shit gets trampled by other soldiers by horses. Sometimes a stray spell burns it all. Honestly, the more you carry the more it weighs you down. Keep the nice perfumed ones and dump the rest. Burn it if you don’t want anyone to read it.” Conte said as he put the bottle of brandy into his bag.

“They are all perfumed.” Arias replied.

“Then pick the ones that have poetry or something.” Conte said as he reached for another bottle to put into his bag.

“They... all have poetry...” Arias muttered in response.

“Oh for fucks sake... bloody lovebirds... then pick your favourites or something...” Conte snapped in exasperation. Arias was about to open his mouth but Conte shot him a glare before handing him a bottle.

“Oh shut up kid, just put this in your damned bag. Do what you want with the letters.” Conte said in resignation as he closed his bag.

Arias nodded as he felt his cheeks heat up and he quietly closed the latch on the bag. There wasn’t space for more because of the stack of letters in there...

“Come on, there’s still the upper floors.” Conte said as the pair of them hefted the bags back onto their shoulders.

In the back of his mind Arias recognised that they were stealing. But honestly, even if he didn’t take it someone else will. This town is going to be looted clean by the time they move out. They were going to be spending the night here after all.

Later Arias took what must have been the daughters room while Conte took the master bedroom. He looked around the bedroom and he saw a picture frame on top of a dressing cabinet. He walked over and picked it up to see a portrait of what must have been the owner of this room along with another man.

They looked to be about as old as he was... the girl reminded him of Rosie. Arias hastily put the portrait back down so as not to drag up any sense of longing. Almost robotically he opened the closet to check if someone was inside, then under the bed. As he looked under the bed, he saw this wooden box tucked away at the corner. Arias curiously reached in and pulled the box out. The first thing he noticed was that it wasn’t covered in dust, so it was put there recently.

He put the box on the bed and popped open the latch. His eyes were greeted by shining jewellery. He saw a pair of pearl earrings, a gold necklace with a shining topaz as the centrepiece. A silver hairpin with opal gems...

Arias glanced over at the portrait and saw that the girl was wearing a beautiful sapphire necklace and a different set of earrings. If he had to guess these were the cheaper ones. This girl probably took all the expensive ones with her.

“Hey kid, did you find anything?” Arias heard Conte ask as Arias heard him walk into the room,

“On that I agree, the Great Beasts are burrowers and the Dwarves live underground. Those stunted little things would find their caverns collapsing on top of them. Their pretty fortifications would do nothing.” Faren said.

“Funny isn’t it how history can flip like a coin. If you told me two years ago that Elysia would be united and we would be on the cusp of taking Voleria I would have called you mad.” Gabrion mused.

“Yes, we should thank those foolish adventurers for releasing the Great Beast. One cannot over state the advantage of having an ancient on your side.” Faren replied.

“Try not the temper of the ancients...” Gabrion muttered in response.

“Perhaps the most terrifying part of that statement is thus far I have heard the Great Beast has not thus far lost his temper...” Faren replied as he cast his gaze to the cavern around him. Even now he could occasionally hear the earth shift around them as the creatures of the Hive scurried around them in the soil.

“Then pray his ire does not fall upon the good people of Elysia. I am sure you know the old stories, the old legends...” Gabrion said as he looked around at the walls of the underground cavern they were hiding in.

“Yes, our ancestors were forced to wage war on each other for the entertainment of the Devourers. They were toy soldiers in enchanted plate, their rulers sent them to fight and die all for the favour and the gifts of the gods. They said the Devourers could remake anyone, mould their flesh like puddy. A receiver of the gift would be born anew, shedding their weakness and rising again far stronger than they once were.” Feron replied softly as his mind wandered to the tomes upon tomes of legends he had read.

“The Proving Grounds they called it, a stretch of desert in Zarima where armies clashed for the entertainment and the whims of far more powerful creatures. They say that place has red sand because of all the blood that was shed there.” Gabrion said as he turned his gaze back to Feron.

“They also say it’s haunted, apparently tortured spirits walk those sands when the sun is down.” Feron added.

“Not surprising, I hear places where great suffering has occurred tends to taint the land.” Gabrion said.

“It has something to do with the Ether. When creatures die their bodies release some of the Ether stored within their bodies. The more powerful the creature the greater the dispersal of Ether. The graves of the Devourers often cause verdant forests and vegetation to sprout around their corpses. Although interestingly said forests are often extremely hostile to most life, with vegetation filled with venoms and diseases often appearing within the confines of those lush lands.” Feron replied.

“Like the Mugumma jungle?” Gabrion asked.

“Supposedly... that place is extremely Ether rich, almost unnaturally so. Something must have happened there, but for such a large piece of land to turn out like that. What happened there must have been truly a sight to behold.” Feron mused as he cupped his chin.

“Well we will see a sight to behold tomorrow, when we break the back of Tralis’s military.” Gabrion grunted.

“Have you ever seen a Hive fight?” Feron asked.

“I have not had the privilege or misfortune, have you?” Gabrion replied with a question of his own.

“I confess I have not... privilege indeed... hahaha.” Feron said as he let out a chuckle, turning quite a few heads at the sudden sound. Most of the soldiers were not really in a mood for idle chit chat considering they were sitting in a monster made cavern. Gabrion raised an eyebrow at Feron and he stifled his laughter.

“No it just reminded of that old saying you Wardens have. Eso Drai vasdeki Voskai. It means the glory of battle, if I recall correctly. Do you have any idea what dead language it comes from? I was meaning to ask for quite some time, but it always slips my mind.” Feron asked.

“I had no idea as well until recently. I asked the Great Beast on a whim and he told me it was the language of the Boarlins.” Gabrion replied.

“The Boarlins? The Blade’s race?” Feron asked in surprise.

“The same, the full phrase is apparently, Eso Drai Vasdeki Voskai, Aroki Zondesi Ahs Hai. It means, the glory of battle, to the victor the spoils.” Gabrion replied softly as if his mind was elsewhere.

“Huh...” Feron muttered as he pondered those words.

“We didn’t even know what language it was, the Great Beast told me like he was telling me what the colour of the sky is. He even finished the phrase...” Gabrion replied.

The two old friends stood silently side by side for a moment internalising this information. The fact that the Great Beast knew these things was a testament to its age. Even the languages of the Draconians called Dracoviss and High Elves’s High Alvish were fading, with fluent speakers now few and far between. Those languages still had progeny races carrying on their ancestor’s legacy and yet the old tongues were still fading. Most now spoke the common tongue, the old languages would soon be gone from the world.

The Boarlins and their progeny the Piglins are gone. The Orcs and their various sub species were on the road to extinction. The Elves grow weaker with each generation. No one even knows what the Dragonborn and Ravenborn even look like anymore, it’s been so long that half the records contradict the other half.

“How old is the Great Beast I wonder?” Feron muttered, the question was half for himself and half for Gabrion.

“Older than those whose footsteps have long vanished...” Gabrion replied.

“I suppose that would be right...” Feron muttered as his mind wandered to the full phrase that is so often said. Few knew it anymore, for the rest of the saying was difficult to imagine for those born in a world without the gods that were the Devourers.

Try not the temper of the ancients

Hold onto your souls, for the ancients will take the rest...

As is their right...