The wet rag felt heavenly against his soring and toned arms, legs, abdomen and back. The feeling of water dribbling down in waves, devouring the musky sweat upon his skin, then vaporizing brought peace upon his mind as it evaporated into a mist passing under his skin, bringing a soothing chill to the searing tendons and sinew beneath. And most importantly, snuffing out the aching present in all his joints.
A minor blessing, endowment delivered from the heavens as their foreman advertised it. A minor and furtive weapon to silence the murmurs amongst the plebeian and downtrodden of Luth-Astaril, against the New Dawn’s s whose influence slowly spread in the shadows, provided by the Order themselves.
Not as effective though as they expected it, Euthymius thought as he searched for the orkh in the pit, an orkh whose clique already sworn themselves to the cause of the New Dawn. Albeit he wasn’t sure in what capacity they aided Mirayroth’s ambitions, he did notice the decrease in pickaxes, spades, shovels and rejuvenating potions for the past half a year. He even tailed the group once, but only saw them enter the Drunken Sphinx to ease the exhaustion of the day with copious amounts of alcohol. Nothing portentous. Just what he expected from those whose sole respite after long day laid in the wet bottom of a keg.
Euthymius gazed up the sky, and from the precipice of the quarry, surveyed the Illius’s stage of dimming. It was nearing the middle hours of afternoon. Rushing past the folk he stopped where the six miners gave space to him. “Sure, I have time for one drink.” He said whilst bundling his long, dark hair into a tail striding down his nape.
“No adventuring today huh?” Calvus, an avian-kin said, his red and blue trimmed feathers gleamed from all the wiping made him look almost of noble birth. Though his ragged, torn clothing contrasted his pristine figure.
“Is it going so bad?” Before Euthymius could answer, Petellia, the sole woman of the group asked in her deep, mannish voice.
Her muscles ripped and tested the boundaries of her slim linen shirt with angled, heptagonal collar encircling her neck, leaving a miniscule gap betwixt. The shoulders appeared quite rugged, and the few holes that blemished it were sewed in a bit hastily. Quite the luxury for a miner. Euthymius thought years before, and as he learned she was the daughter of the foreman who chose to work alongside them instead of yelling out the daily quotas. A choice which brought respect for both.
“Or he wishes to follow in the steps of his brother. Folk like us who wish to pursue martial paths need to accrue experience beforehand.” Hostus, a merkiin with pale complexion, oily grayish black scales flecked on the sides of his face, arms and legs interjected before Euthymius could speak up. Again. He wanted to correct him, but as the words started forming, decided against it. Though he did not join the adventurer’s guild to walk the same path as Isocrates, but he suspected, possessed the same reason. To accrue experience after nearly meeting his doom.
“Do you wish to join the Legion?” Volaginius inquired as they began their ascent on the sloping road leading up from the quarry into the streets of the lowest district on the west bank. The question surprised him a little, he simply shook his head.
“Just thought the extra pay could come in handy to help out at home. Whilst also making the city a bit more safer.” He answered almost truthfully. His other reason for enrolling in the guild involved Calaviril. Whom he got assigned to watch by Naghig after the whole incident not far from his home. Though besides keeping tabs on her, he also wished to show her around the city, let her see how dire things have been since the Harrowing in hopes it reaches those above, in hopes it may avert bloodshed, upheaval.
A faint hope as he was somewhat aware she was still far from being an influence upon them. Though he could still not be sure, whether the New Dawn, Mirayroth wished for a peaceful resolution. But he tried not to think about it whilst with Volaginius and his party, who already changed their topic to merrier ones, whom he joined with guilt he hoped to smother with alcohol.
The sour taste of the beer still lingered in his mouth when Euthymius followed after Volaginius. Nearly, he fumbled and fell, assaulted by a mild dizziness which quickly passed by the time he mingled amongst the folks crowding the street. Still, Euthymius regretted not ordering something fatty. Myrtilos advised him many times to battle drunkenness heavy grub.
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His words endlessly circled in his mind like the world did moments ago whilst he made sure to stay five to ten long steps away from Volaginius quite sober still, even after downing at least ten or eleven kegs of the strongest meads served on this level. He was a bit envious towards the constitution of orkhin, their natural endurance towards alcohol. And stupid thinking he could stalk another drunk a little. Or maybe he felt stupid about his confidence, shameful that three kegs of beer proved to be his limit.
Just as he began wallowing, Volaginius took a sharp turn, a strange sense, a gratefulness spread across Euthymius. He charged towards the corner, huddled against it, and just as he peeked over, the wall within the alley veiled in soft shadows, moaned open.
First the outlines of the marble blocks became visible, then they pushed a little outwards before sliding into the rest, creating a gaping hole from which a musky, cavernous air breezed Volaginius’s graying, long hair tumbling down his broad, muscled shoulders. Euthymius waited, for a moment contemplating to be satisfied with this much and head to the adventurer’s guild, but instead rushed towards the wall just as it closed.
“Now where is it?” He murmured, pressing his palms across the smooth, even surface. A strange joy filled his heart upon the tactile impression, and subconsciously he attuned himself to the will of stone. Nearly he lost himself in the sensation, hearing the mindless whispers. Focusing, Euthymius took small breaths, drowned out the faint steps coming from behind as two drunkards stumbled into the alley.
“Look at that pretyy ond.” The dwarf yelled out the incoherent words, scaring Euthymius who swiftly turned around. He exhaled recognizing the two from before. A short dwarf with a dusky bronzish complexion, disheveled beard drenched in wasted alcohol and vomit which stench almost sobered the still mildly drunk Euthymius.
“That zin't a preyty one Carius!” The other, a slightly taller man with a fair skin browned a little by the Illius, hair receding, his body quite thin. His bony fingers pointed high above Euthymius who was contemplating how to get rid of the two. Both were the kind of notorious drunkards who ended up beaten by the others. Though it seemed they had the fortune to heal up their noses that broke at least thrice since Euthymius frequented the Drunken Sphinx.
“Isn't he the one with the filghy orjh?” Euthymius froze when he heard those words and felt where this all will lead. From the walls, two heads grew out and hit at their napes. With grunts the two collapsed, and not long before, passed to the lands of Oneiron. Piss flown out from their crimson and lavender tinctured breeches, spreading a vile, pungent smell within the alley. The smell proved so potent, Euthymius reflexively pinched his nose as hard as he could.
Euthymius waited a little, then turned back and closed his eyes, focusing once more, then he exhaled in tandem with the moaning, hidden door before he passed through into the utter dimness residing within. Torches lit the gloom, lining the winding path of stalactite walls. Though at first, he expected the road to lead further below, into the belly of the mountain, not long before, the path began to ascend. Twenty or so steps later, he noticed the faint glow of the Illius seeping in through thin cracks outlining another door, less hidden along the mountain’s wall, high above the lands. From beyond it, a cold breeze braced his visage, lifted a few of his loose strands dangling at the fringes.
Before opening it, Euthymius recounted the times he cast during the day, and prepared for the mild, alerting pain that shall mix with the arkhaine euphoria. This time, touching the stone felt less pleasant, its rough surface gnawed innocently into his hardened palm as he pressed it against the jagged protrusions. This time it wasn’t just the mindless element of earth which entered his mind, but something else, a second layer of protection he recognized. One that sent little thunders into his mind, amplifying the pain.
As soon as mana began to flood his arkhaine points located in his arms, Euthymius loosened his press and kneeled into the harsh ground. He bit hard into his lip, blood trickled down his chin as he felt small tips thrusting into his sides, first treacherously trickling, then clawing the insubstantial wounds. Deep breaths followed one after another as the door opened. Struggling, he became unsure whether to continue or not. In the end he pulled through as the illusory pain ceased gradually.
Stepping out, he reflexively grabbed onto the protrusion of the mountain and as he dug deep, his nails nearly crawled out from their place. The pain registered not as his chest rose and flattened with each deep breath, before him the golden expanse on the other side of the mountain stretched as far as he could see. Looking to the right, he noticed a growing path, and far ahead he watched as Volaginius disappeared in a dark flash, just below a plateau with marbled walls right at the steep promontory.
“That shall be enough.” Euthymius skirted back, taking deep breaths as the wind smothered him nearly. Stepping in, he offered a prayer to the Dawnfather and the Gray Monarch for not decreeing his doom, and watched as the door closed, its moaning drowned out by the shrieks of the increasingly violent wind.
And the last one for this month and week. A sliced chapter, as the third Arc is still, mostly out of order. The curse of focusing on one character before working on the others.
Besides, I also wanted to pick up with Euthymius, and expand on the previous second segment, where he meets up with Calaviril for a little
Anyhow, the third volume's progress is a little bit slow. Still on the second arc, Sigi's side as I expanded his adventures in the Veinways a little bit more. Currently enjoying a bit of rest in a haunted villa in the depths, helping a certain character recording the diaries of a teneavhe who lived there a long, long time ago. Slowed down a bit, as on the other side, I'm doing some preliminary outlining for an extensive, long battle, the first I believe so. Thankfully, beyond throwing ideas at the wall, though a bit excited to finally reach this point, even if also a bit nervous in getting it right.
Anyhow, I am starving so thank you for reading this, hope you enjoyed this month's batch of stories. Have a pleasant evening or day, and weekend!
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