Chapter 8: Chapter 7: Port City of Njord

*badump*

Something… felt strange.

Where, or what... is this place? I pondered to myself. I felt as if I were watching the world through someone else's eyes, unable to move my own hands and feet. Are these my own hands and feet?

*badump*

Everything felt a little... blurry. I was inside someone's home, that much was obvious. A mostly bare place, with some scattered junk, likely the kind of trinkets humans loved to have. At least it was clean, with wooden plank walls and a stone fireplace with a small cauldron filled with some kind of stew.

I couldn't stop myself as I walked to the pot, and used a basic wooden ladle to fill a wooden bowl with the stew. Did my hands change again?! Not that I could do much about my confusion.

I carried that bowl of stew to what looked like the only bed in the home, where a woman lay with a crying newborn babe, while a tall man held her hands. They smiled at me, that much I could see, while their faces looked to be yet another blur.

*badump*

It’s shifting again...

I had to admit, I was a little curious at what was going on. The curiosities of human life, I suppose.

But now the woman wailed, tears stained her cheeks and her eyes rolled back into her head. She was completely emaciated compared to the woman from before, and this time everything was clear.

Every detail of her face, contorted in pain... black spots and pustules that covered her body... and the gnarled hand she reached out towards... us? Why am I holding the young babe now?

*badump*

The world shifted yet again. But... it was starting to make some more sense to me. There were only a couple other people here, one of whom was a cleric for some god I had never seen before.

The tall man kept his distance from me, his lips twisted in grief.

I watched the woman's corpse burn in a dirt hole before it was buried beneath the earth. These are human rituals. Some variations, but still the same.

*badump*

These are clearly someone's memories, at this point... and that girl definitely isn't Diane. So... who's memories? And why am I stuck in them?

The tall man's bluish lips and cracked neck greeted me this time. He hung limply on a rope nailed into the ceiling, the stool he stood upon knocked aside onto the ground. Such an incomprehensible act... the fragility of humans never ceases to amaze me. How could a single species vary to such extremes?

He looked down, hands covering the eyes of a young girl as her warm tears leaked between his fingers. This memory... mentally, it made me grimace and clutch my heart for a moment. Why? Is this... the pain from that memory?

*badump*

The world shifted again, and now, I was just plain annoyed. Why do I have to waste my time with this? How was I even affected by these memories, without noticing? Even in my current state... it shouldn't be that easy to get something past me...

An angry-looking man just ran past me, and with how I was cowering with this child, we were clearly hiding from him. Reacting to the yowl of her stomach, I pulled out a neatly wrapped slice of bread from a pocket stashed inside my shirt. The last one, at that. Judging by the scrawny fingers, this kid had been forgoing his own meals to care for his little sister. A reasonable enough assumption.

Peak folly.

*badump*

“… thistle” A whisper pierced into my consciousness, with a slight pressure on my shoulder.

“HEY THISTLEMAN!” Diane shouted into my ears!

I practically fell off the horse from the shaking, as my eyes snapped open.

Good... at least that's over with...

I rubbed my head, trying to ignore Diane's hovering.

“Good, you’re awake again. You had me worried, spacing out like that! So don't do that anymore, kay?” Diane chided, and quickly tried to cover up her worry with poorly acted indifference.

How am I supposed to not do something that I don't know how it happened in the first place?

“Ah, well, uhm… I’m sorry… I'll… see what I can do about it?” I shrugged with a somewhat pained and confused expression.

Now that I really think about it... all those people I saw... weren't they the ones from the locket?

“Its fine, don’t worry about it. We are about to reach the gate, so just follow my lead.” Diane reasserted herself.

At least she adjusts pretty quickly. Resilient kid.

I wasn't in a particular rush, but I figured I would have time to investigate this locket issue later.

Although... that is the first time I had ever panic-eaten something, no? I made a mental note to NEVER do that again, just in case.

---

The sky was overcast as they approached Njord. Massive wooden walls surrounded the city, each post in the wall looked like someone just planted a whole tree and shaved off the top.

Rumor had it, the city itself was first founded 1300 years ago by a man claiming to be a powerful Viking lord. While the truth behind its founder was likely exaggerated or embellished, he established one of the most fearsome raiding fleets of his era and terrorized much of the coast of Anastasia. After his death, his many children picked up his mantle, but due to constant infighting the city never grew to be much larger than it is today. The city maintained its way of life until 300 years ago, when Luthas the Great began his wars of unification. The city, weakened by a millennia of infighting, submitted to Luthas when his armies marched north, sparing them from destruction and allowing them to maintain their traditions in exchange for their loyalty.

As such, the men of Njord swore their loyalty to King and his direct heirs alone. Luthas had granted the city a certain level of autonomy to maintain a peaceful balance, where the city was led by a Chief Minister elected by the people and the region was managed by a Baron appointed by the King, directly from the noble families of Njord. This resulted in Njord being the farthest reach of Royal Land from the capital and one of the King’s powerful backers, and it also made the direct political influence of the other Lords and Ladies of the land extremely weak.

Numerous long houses filled the city, built with a mix of wood and clay to fill any holes and prevent drafts. The roofs were covered with thatch, with the wealthier houses and shops replacing much of the thatch with wooden slats and clay tiles. The powerful noble’s homes and the churches stood several stories high, adorned with various carvings of large sea serpents, carnivorous fish and a kraken.

Half the city was built out on to the ocean itself, protected from the waves by a large stone seawall with an entry gate for ships entering the port and fisherman leaving the city. Most settlements near the wilderness were eventually ravaged and destroyed by the monsters and demi-humans who would occasionally raid out from its protective labyrinth of trees and hills.

The survival of this city was a testament to the hardiness of its people.

---

 

“HALT! State your business in Njord, travelers!” A male guard commanded in a stern Njordic accent.

A large, burly man with blue eyes and blond hair marched forward to address Diane and Thistleman as they arrived. He wore well-maintained fur armor, and his arm rested calmly on his sheathed sword, likely made of Cold Iron, a specialty in the region said to rival steel mainly due to its effectiveness and durability against monsters, although far weaker when used in dealing with people.

The two children stopped their horses, the pitiful creatures snorted and shook their manes, thankful for a break.

Before Diane could answer, a female guard stepped forward and chastised the man.

“Bjorn, give these kids a break, just look at them and the condition they are in! Come now, your safe from any trouble here.”

The woman walked forward, her build was somewhat slimmer but more defined than the man, and she had a large scar cutting across her face. Instead of furs, she wore a Cold Iron chain shirt over leather armor and a Cold Iron helmet, with fur ear guards over the sides of her head.

She used her long silver spear as a walking stick, the soft thuds of its base hitting the ground became clearer as she approached. Her long blond hair was curled in to a bun behind her head, and her silver eyes shone with a kind expression. Ancient men may have mistaken her for a Valkyrie if they happened to stumble across her.

“My name is Brunhilde, please forgive Bjorn for his stiffness. He is a new guard here and I am overseeing his training. Now I know this may be hard for you, but please tell me about what troubles brought you here in such a manner?” Brunhilde emanated an absolutely disarming demeanor, and she asked her question while reaching up to pat Diane on the head. Meanwhile, Bjorn’s face winced a moment at the critique, but quickly resumed his stoic behavior.

“My name is Diane. Diane Culaine. I was coming here with my… servant Thistleman and our coachman when we were assaulted by bandits. I… I managed to kill most of them before we were able to flee… I don’t know if there are any more. Also… can you please stop patting my head?! I’m not a kid!!”

Diane pouted at maximum intensity, but she didn’t make any real efforts to stop Brunhilde either.

However, Diane needn’t have asked Brunhilde to stop, as the realization of what she just said sunk in.

“Wait… you were assaulted by bandits? And you both killed them?” Brunhilde's eyes widened, as she looked between the two disheveled kids.

“No, she killed them. I only ran around. Oh, and here, they had these tokens on them!” Thistleman chimed in, and tried to pass over the tokens to the guards.

He had smiled quite pleasantly at Brunhilde as he did so, but the fact he would talk about killing people so nonchalantly really threw her off. Diane’s pained reaction made sense, even if the fact a kid killed bandits did not. But Thistleman… that kid just gave her the chills. She hesitated, before finally responding the the boy.

“No… you should keep those to turn in to the adventurer’s guild. Those are thieves’ guild tokens, and we have contracted our bounties and payments through them, so they will be able to reward you for these tokens. Also… are you sure you were the ones who killed the bandits? How many of them were there? Ah… wait, never mind that.”

Brunhilde quickly changed her line of questioning and watched Diane in evident concern, as the girl tightened her fists on the horse’s reigns, her eyes boring holes through the earth.

“Just… let us see your identification then, and you can head on over to the guild.” Brunhilde managed to choke that up, feeling guilty about prodding Diane too much.

In response, Diane pointed at the crest on her bloodstained dress.

“This is all the identification I have with me… I… I don’t have anything else.”

Brunhilde sighed. She looked carefully at the crest, and nodded. “House Culaine. Well, it will have to do. When you head in to the city, make sure you swing by the city’s government office for new entry permits. An adventurer’s card works just as well, but I think you are a bit young to get one of those.”

“Also, try to avoid the Brahmoun district. That area can be quite seedy and wouldn’t be safe for kids around there.” Bjorn chimed in, trying to sound useful.

“Thanks, we will try and take your advice.” Diane responded, trying to regain her noble bearing before riding in to the city. They could hear Brunhilde chiding Bjorn again about not scaring kids as they road deeper in to the city.

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Diane and Thistleman rode slowly through the town. Diane’s exhaustion was starting to catch up with her, but she remained focused and continued looking for the adventurer's guild.

Thistleman acted as if he was tired as well, keeping in solidarity of course, however Daemon’s weren’t known to particularly need sleep. In fact, powerful Daemon’s often used sleep as a show of confidence and strength, or to skip through boredom, awaking only when they sensed a threat or had an interesting new scheme in mind.

Still, he had to play his part. Even if it was a… *shudder* peasant's role. However, Sen…. Thistleman never failed at anything. If he was to be a peasant supporting Diane, his "bestest" friend, then that meant he would be the best damn peasant friend she ever had! As a best friend, he would be just as tired as her, and persevere just as long! Except he wasn’t tired. At all. He tried not to think about that part.

At least trying to figure out how to fulfill his new role was absolutely fascinating, particularly because it involved concepts so absolutely foreign to him. 10,000 years of study on annihilating things, all things, everything. He was probably the foremost expert on the topic in the multiverse. But… how the hell does being a friend work? He started to subtly study the crowd again, his dogged gaze unsettling any who looked his way.

The city had a very different vibe than Versailles. Other than the architecture, the people themselves behaved vastly differently. There seemed to be less entitlement, and a stronger focus on community than business amongst the residents. People were also notably much… poorer than in the Ducal Capital. And more heavily armed. Probably due to the cultural traditions and living on the edge of a violent wilderness?

Eventually, the pair reached the adventurer’s guild. It was located at the last patch of shoreline, before the road was replaced by wood-plank pathways, expertly built to rise and fall with the water levels and preserved with magic. The pathways connected all the different buildings and districts out on the water. Kids could be seen diving off some of the buildings into the water, clearly undeterred by the colder temperatures. Some of the sections had old men sitting in chairs, with their rods in hand and a line in the water. Others had bridges between sections, and people paddling around them in small boats… for fun?

**

Diane didn't bother to look around, as she quietly plodded onward. She was here at the adventurer’s guild, and she would need to collect the money so she could get a place to sleep.

Get in the guild... get some money... find an inn... then... find work?

She scrunched her face, as she never had to look for work before.

People usually just gave us money... so who gave them their money?

They dismounted and hitched their horses by the water trough near the guild. The horses were all too happy to finally have a break, and slurped up the water ferociously before nodding off at the first opportunity.

Diane hauled herself up the small set of stairs that led to the front patio of the Guild, covered with a nice plank roof. The double doors were made of a solid dark oak, with a deep red border around them and golden handles. On the door was a large gold plate with the image of the known world, Anastasia and Ebenheim, surrounded by a great serpent, known locally as Jormungand, the world-eater. This was the crest of the Njord Branch of the adventurer’s guild.

There was a lot of activity around the guild. As Diane started reaching for the handle of one of the enormous doors, it jolted inward. A group of rough looking individuals barreled out, not paying any attention to Diane or Thistleman as they sauntered past. The inside of the guild was just as noisy. Apparently, a lot was happening around the world.

**

Various adventuring and mercenary groups gathered around tables with flagons of ale, debating and arguing over posted requests and hearsay.

A large band of mercenaries boisterously bantered over a new posting that had found its way to their table, with only criers recruiting for other missions able to shout above them.

“Have you heard? The Frost queen has declared war on the Dwarves of Moeria again. Seems they weren’t prepared this time. They have posted some pretty hefty mercenary recruitment ads.” A balding steel clad man with glasses stared at the posting, while nudging a stout bearded fellow in the seat next to him.

“How hefty? I hear those Snow Elves are an extremely violent lot. If you don’t die by their hands, living as their slaves is arguably much worse…” The bearded man grunted thickly, guzzling an entire pint to himself.

“500 gold coins for participating, and a dwarven crafted weapon if you do especially well.” The entire table lit up like a beehive.

“Damn, they are desperate to offer that much! But… to get my hands on a dwarven weapon? I think it might be worth the risk.” A dark cloaked man on the other side of the table tossed a particularly keen dagger in the air and caught it again, smiling with a hint of greed.

“Plus, I hear that Frost Queen is quite the beauty. I wouldn’t mind dying if it’s by her hands.” A younger lad, barely a day over 17 gawked over the bald man's shoulder.

“This is why you never get any girls, you really need to stop coming off as so desperate!” Another young lad jabbed his elbow into the side of the first kid, while his eyes wandered over the poster all the same.

“Philistander’s Hunters are currently looking for a healer! We are hunting the mighty Sabertooth, and promise an equal share in the reward!” A well-dressed ranger leapt atop a table, his green hood pulled black while his cloak swished elegantly behind him.

“How would we even get down there? I hear piracy has gotten even worse in the Treacherous Isles, and the land route is so far the war might be over by the time we reach there.” Another bald mercenary slammed his flagon onto the table, and leaned in incredulously.

“That is a fair problem, but it can also be a boon. I hear this is also increasing the reward for capturing pirate bounties. We can make a quick buck on the way to our next job!” The glasses-wearing man responded, as he leafed through a few other pamphlets.

“Hahaha, now that is thinking with your noggin!” The bearded man laughed heartily.

“Captain Morgan is looking for several groups of adventurers to provide security for his ship on a voyage to the Empire of the Sand. Meals will be provided, as it is a round-trip voyage we are willing to accept adventurers for security on one and both directions.” A well-dressed sailor with a particularly nice, feathered hat contrasting his rough features shouted well above the din, as he read off his announcement, much to the chagrin of the Ranger.

He ignored the scowls from the green-cloaked man, as a pair of men in clerical robes patted the ranger on shoulder before walking over to speak with the feathered-hat crier.

“A lot of other adventurers are also heading south, but I hear it is for different mercenary jobs. Some other groups still in the Kingdom are hiring adventurers left and right.” The only Canian in the group barked, his dog-like snout dripped with froth from his mug.

“Yeah, it seems they are paying well enough and there is no fighting involved. Definitely a lot safer than hunting monsters up here.” One of the youths jumped back in excitedly.

“That crier for Captain Morgan sounds pretty interesting. I always wanted to visit the Empire of the Sand, I don't trust a damned soul who recruits adventurers and mercs for "peaceful jobs", and I hear the drow are pretty close to the humans up there. I also know from very reliable sources that they are much better to deal with than the snow elves! I say we check up on that job instead, eh boys?” The bearded man demurred.

As he stood up to go speak with the feather-hatted man, he yelled out to one of the serving girls. "Aye, lassie! Another round for me boys over 'ere!"

**

Diane and Thistleman made their way through the crowd of adventurers to the front desk, occasionally dodging a spilled drink and the feet of heavily armored paladins and knights. They arrived just as a man in full-plate mail armor picked up a small purse of gold from the attendant and walked away.

“Next! Nyah!”

A fuzzy catkin called out to the group. She had silk black fur, round cat-like eyes and pointy cat ears. Long whiskers poked out from a small patch of white fur around her nose, and a pair of small sharp teeth protruded out of her mouth. She was absolutely adorable.

“NYEXT!” She called out again. Someone behind Diane and Thistleman pointed down to the two kids at the foot of the counter.

The catkin looked over the edge at them in surprise, before speaking.

“Nyah! Sorry, I dyidn’t see ya there! I’m Elsie! How cyan I help ya!” The catkin accent was strong with this one. Diane spoke up.

“We heard we can claim the bounty on some bandits if we turned in their Thieves Guild tokens here?”

“Nyah? You’re claiming the bounty on some bandits? Nyow how did ya myanage that? I byet these aren’t even going to byee real tyokens. If it’s a scyam, then scram!”

Thistleman passed the tokens up to the catkin, quieting the laughter of some of the adventurers behind them. Elsie looked at the tokens for moment, then back at Diane and Thistleman. Then she looked back at the tokens. She then pulled out a monocle from her green vest, and looked at the tokens through the monocle.

“These are indyeed legitimate tyokens.” Elsie said, clearly dumbfounded.

“Then I would like my pay for them please.” Diane was quite tired, but she still maintained her professional business sense.

Even if her family despised her, she still had a proper noble upbringing. Her father prided propriety and following tradition with a vengeance. A noble’s status was also reflected in the expense they provided for the growth and training of their heirs. However, training someone considered crippled and useless hardly does anything to help with prestige, and in her father’s eyes, a wasted expense for no return.

Many noble families thought the same way and would secretly try and remove said failures, in order to maximize their returns on power and status. Diane had managed to survive through this process for 8 years.

“Hymmm, nyormally we don’t pay non-adventurers for quests, but syince these byounties were posted by the town guard, they asked us to pay anyone who cyollected on thyem. Syince the byandits hyadn't byeen myuch trouble, the reward is oynly 40 silver cyoins and 38 cyopper cyoins. Anything else I cyan help you wyith?” The creature rattled on, as she fiddled about with her tally.

“I would also like to register to become an adventurer with my servant, Thistleman.” Elsie’s tail immediately stiffened when she heard the request from this stone-faced, deadly serious girl.

The other adventurers nearby became deathly silent, before erupting in laughter.

“First, this girl claims a bounty on bandits, and now this child wants to become an adventurer?!” A beady-eyed man grinned incredulously.

“Hahahaha, come back when you are old enough, kid!” A gruff man wearing a metal hat chortled.

Thistleman stared daggers back in to the crowd of adventurers.

These pathetic ingrates dare to laugh at HER? She is MY master, and that alone puts her leagues above these worthless pissants!

At the catkins shocked silence, Diane continued again, pointing at her Crest, and speaking with more determination. She was desperate, and after hearing other adventurers speak about what they could earn and seeing what she just made, she knew she would have no better choice if she wanted to survive.

She needed this job far more than they didn’t want to give it to her. Plus, she was sure they wouldn’t have received the Duke’s decree that she was disinherited from the family. It was a gamble, but worth taking.

“I am Diane of House Culaine. I am pressing my right as a noble to register as an adventurer.”

Some of the poorer noble houses would send their children to prove themselves as adventurers as a way to increase income, build status, and reduce their expenses on hiring people to train their children. While it would normally be considered dirty for a great noble house to do the same, it was not entirely unprecedented. It was due to this that noble’s secured the right, during negotiations with the adventurers guild, that their children be allowed to apply and be exempt from the age requirement. Even so, it would be considered an even greater embarrassment if their child failed the exam after pressing this privilege, so it was extremely rare for children under the age of 12 to use this right, let alone an 8 year old.

This brought silence to the crowd, before an even greater round of laughter.

Thistleman was downright furious. His anger was overflowing in to Diane, who barely managed to contain it herself.

“Well? I’m waiting.” Diane puffed out her chest and placed her hands on her hips, staring with absolute determination into Elise’s eyes.

The Catkin sighed.

“Fine. Nyah. But if you regret it, then dyon’t come crying back to mye.”

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