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As they prepared to leave, Zellrid knelt down in front of Meatwolf and stroked her fur. “Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he said softly. “Until then, take care of your pack, okay?” Meatwolf gave Zellrid one last nuzzle before scampering off to join his cubs in the wild.
As Zellrid and Serana watched him disappear into the horizon, they both felt a pang of regret at having to say goodbye to their newfound friends Zellrid then addressed the soldiers and Spook, saying,
“We’ll be traveling to the village, and it should take us about half a day. You all will help carry Maro using the bed we constructed. Do you understand?” The soldiers nodded in unison, ready to follow Zellrid’s command. They had grown to respect him greatly, not only for his combat skills but also for his knowledge of the wild creatures they encountered. Zellrid was a true leader who knew when to fight and when to show mercy. As they set off on their journey, Zellrid and Serana walked side by side, scanning the forest for any sign of danger.
The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the trees. But as they walked deeper into the woods, the air grew colder, and the leaves underfoot crackled with strange magic. Zellrid paused as he felt something was off and called for the others to stop. His troops looked at him curiously, but Serana knew what was happening and prepared her sharp teeth. She was prepared for anything that came their way. As they stood still, a strange figure appeared from the shadows. The figure was cloaked in a black robe, which covered every inch of its body. Zellrid could not see any features or facial expressions as the figure stepped forward, almost gliding toward them.
Zellrid held his sword aloft, ready to strike, but then the man lifted his arm and made a sign that only an arcanist would recognize. Immediately, Zellrid turned to Serana and ordered her and the troops to sheath their weapons. The man in the black cloak spoke, his voice low and calm.
“I come bearing a message for you, Zellrid. A message from the High Council of Arcanists.”
Zellrid narrowed his eyes, suspicious of the stranger. “What is the message?” The man held out a scroll and spoke in a hushed voice. “The grandmaster arcanist Wiatrogon was killed, so you must come with me to Arcanterra for the funeral rites
” Zellrid’s heart sank at the news. Wiatrogon had been his mentor, the one who had taught him the ways of the arcanists. Zellrid had always looked up to him, and now he was gone. Without hesitation, Zellrid took the scroll from the man and began to read it. As he read, the words burned into his soul. The loss of Wiatrogon was a tragedy for all of Arcanterra, and it was up to Zellrid to honor his mentor’s legacy. He glanced at the figure in the mask and spoke.
“I can’t go with you now. I have to make sure Maro is safe first.” The person in the dark cloak offered a subtle nod of understanding. “I will meet you down by the Xrise docks; may the arcane power lead your way, Zellrid.” In the blink of an eye, the man had vanished back into the darkness from whence he came. Zellrid then directed his troops to continue their mission as his yellow eyes began to dim as he sank deep into his thoughts. “No, it can’t be him. He was so kind to everyone. Could these be the same assassins that killed King Edwin?” He was lost in thought, but a feeling of warmth on his arm brought him back to reality: it was Serena’s hand that had entwined with his and her gaze upon him as if she wanted to comfort him.
Zellrid looked at her, grateful for her presence amid his grief. She was the only one who truly understood him, and he didn’t know what he would do without her. “Thank you, Serana,” he said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I have to go to Arcanterra for the funeral rites. Wiatrogon was like a father to me. I need to pay my last respects to him.” Serana nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with determination. “I’ll go with you, Zellrid. We’ll find out who did this and make them pay.” Zellrid smiled faintly at Serena’s words. and after a long trip in the late-day sun, they finally reached the village.
As they stepped into the village square, Zellrid couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The warm smiles and open arms of the villagers were a welcoming sight, especially after the recent tragedy that had befallen him. Zellrid and Serana breathed a sigh of relief as they finally reached the center of the village. and then The hunter that Zellrid encountered in Wolf Den greeted them both, along with a troop of soldiers. “Greetings, arcanist! We meet once more. You weren’t joking when you mentioned the wounded man. “Want to introduce us to your troops and this lovely lady?” zellrid answered, “Yes, those are soldiers from the Xerise kingdom, and this woman is Serana.
” The hunter inclined his head in a gesture of respect. “I am Hunter Finch, and I take great pride in being responsible for this village,” he said as he motioned towards the buildings. It was an honor to meet you all. Welcome to Littlewood. ” He cast a swift glance at Zellrid and Serana and cleared his throat. “If I may be so audacious as to offer my help,” Hunter Finch began to speak, his gaze focused on Maro’s condition. “I think it is best if we hurry and visit the old healer woman, Helena Mazur,” he said,
gesturing in the direction of her hut. Zellrid was filled with a tiny spark of hope as they accompanied Hunter Finch to Helena Mazur’s abode. When they arrived, the healer woman had already assumed their arrival; her furrowed visage was creased with concern. “What happened?” she uttered upon seeing them. “How did he get hurt so badly?” She gestured to Zellrid. “So you came back, stranger.
” Zellrid answered, “Yes, like I said, he has been through a lot. Please, give him a hand.” She answered, “Alright, I’ll do my best, but remember that I don’t work for free. I don’t want your gold; something else is required of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you need to leave the hut so that I can move around and help your friend.” After giving Helena control over Maro’s care, Zellrid nodded and left. He was made to feel at ease as he observed her tending to Maro.
He was confident, knowing that his path was pretty obvious once more and that he could face any problem head-on. Then he turned to Serena and said, “Yah, why not drink something at Taraven? I could use a hot glass of milk.
,” to which Serena responded, “Milk what?”
Serena, just milk, Zellrid chuckled.
“Alcohol tastes disgusting, and I detest it. Milk simply has a nicer flavor, you know.”
Serena started giggling at Zellrid.
“really milk? You are an arcanist who consumes milk, fights monsters, kills them, and is generally knowledgeable.”
Zellrid replied, “Is this a compliment or bullying?” Serana answered with a chuckle, “What do you think, Mr. Arcanist?” Zellrid started walking towards the tavern and grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, at least I don’t drink blood.”
Serana followed Zellrid with a smirk on her face. “Well, I wouldn’t expect a mere mortal to understand the taste of true power.”
“Zellrid rolled his eyes and retorted, “And I wouldn’t expect a vampire to understand the value of a human life.” The two continued their banter as they entered the dimly lit tavern. The air was thick with the smell of ale and sweat. They found a table in the corner and sat down. Serana ordered a glass of ale, while Zellrid opted for milk. As they waited for their drinks, they discussed the events of the past few days. “After Maro gets recovered, I really have to travel out to Arcanterra,” Zellrid said as he started to speak. Then Serana said, “I’m sorry about Wiatrogon.” When Zellrid needed reassurance, Serana grasped his hand.
“Even though I didn’t know him personally, I’m confident that he produced Soulinya’s top arcanist.” Upon being trusted by the waitress, Serana instantly pulled her hand out of
embarrassment. As soon as the waitress saw it, she began to laugh and said, “Well, we’ve got new lovers in the village. “Ale for you, my lady, and milk for you, Mr. Arcanist.” Zellrid and Serana looked at each other with a mix of surprise and annoyance. The waitress continued to tease them, causing Zellrid to furrow his brows in frustration. But Serana just smiled and took a sip of her ale.
“So, regarding Arcanterra... Zellrid cleared his throat after a brief awkward silence.
Serana nodded and sipped her drink again. waiting for him to continue
“I won’t be able to accompany you; the Academy of Arcanists will be dangerous for a vampire,” Zellrid
explained, staring up at her. Serana cocked
her brow. her head to the side, studying Zellrid’s expression. There was a hint of sadness there that she couldn’t quite place.
“But... I thought we’d go together,” Serana answered. Zellrid grimaced and nodded. “As much as I would like to accompany you, I cannot risk putting you in danger.” Arcanterra’s arcanists are hostile to vampires, and if they learn your true nature, you will be in great peril. The Arcanists are renowned for their tremendous magic and control over elemental forces. They have a long history of combating supernatural monsters, especially vampires.
Serana nodded understandingly, taking another sip of her ale. It was true that the arcanists were powerful and dangerous foes to face, even for a vampire as skilled as Serana. But she couldn’t shake off the feeling of disappointment inside.
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She furrowed her brow and spoke intently to Zellrid. “What will you do then?” she asked. He answered without hesitation: “I will go alone to investigate my mentor’s death and stand at his funeral, so that I may be there when they vote for the new Grandmaster.” His voice was cracked yet firm with determination, then he quickly gulped down the milk and thought to himself, “I owe everything I have to him.” Serana stood up and walked around the table to Zellrid’s side. She put her hand on his shoulder.
trying to console him in any way she could. but then The tavern had a sudden uproar. Serana and Zellrid both turned to observe the situation. A gang of unkempt-looking individuals had come and were making a scene by yelling and shoving other customers. One of them had chosen a small child, no more than ten years old, and was threatening him with a rusty knife. Zellrid’s eyes burned with rage as he commanded Serana not to intervene. “Stay here.
“Zellrid then walked to the man and told him, with a sarcastic tone, “Well, aren’t you a brave one, picking on a defenseless child?” I’m sure your mother would be proud. What’s the matter? I couldn’t find someone your size to bully. Zellrid took a step closer to the man. The man glared at him, raising the knife threateningly. Zellrid’s hand moved like lightning, grabbing the man’s wrist and twisting it painfully until he dropped the knife. The man yelped in pain as Zellrid forced him to his knees.
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“Please, no!” the man pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks. At that instant, someone else tried to strike Zellrid from behind. But Zellrid was fast, spinning around and evading the blow before sending a strong kick into the assailant’s gut. The outlaw staggered backward, wheezing for air. Zellrid was fuming with anger as he looked at the two men groveling at his feet. He had seen enough of these types in his lifetime—cowardly bullies who preyed on the weak and defenseless. It sickened him to the core.
He turned back to the child, who was cowering in fear. Zellrid kneeled down and spoke to him softly, “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” The child shook his head, tears streaming down his face. Zellrid gently wiped away the tears with his thumb, offering a small smile to the boy to reassure him.
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Suddenly, Zellrid’s acute nose picked up a nasty odor. When he looked up, he noticed some sketchy-looking people attempting to circle him. Always prepared for situations like this, Zellrid felt his hand travel instinctively to the hilt of his sword. He knew he had to act fast before things got out of hand. Zellrid quickly got up, his hand on his sword, and kept a close eye on the group of sketchy-looking people. He could tell from the way they moved that they were drunk, and their bloodshot eyes and slurred speech only confirmed his suspicions.
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“You guys really want to do this?” Zellrid said, stepping forward with confidence.
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The leader of the group, a burly man with a red face and unkempt beard, sneered and took a step forward. “What’s it to you, pretty boy?”
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Zellrid didn’t flinch. “This kid didn’t do anything to deserve being hit. I won’t let you hurt him or anyone else in this tavern.”
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The burly man laughed and gestured to his companions. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a hero, boys. Let’s teach him a lesson!”
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Zellrid acted immediately. Then, as he drew his sword, he briefly displayed some of his power, saying, “Your parents taught you that when you see a ghoul flee, you see a hag likewise escape, but the greatest thing you should dread is an angry arcanist, and that, my friends, is what you received today.”
The air trembled with energy as Zellrid's eyes blazed with brilliant blue light.
The band of bandits stumbled back in shock as their terrified faces twisted. Are you an arcanist? The strong man stumbled.
Then, turning to face him, Zellrid mockingly remarks, "Oh, how perceptive of you. I am an arcanist, yes. And a very strong one at that.
As Zellrid spoke, the energy coming from his body continued to hum in the space. Uncertain of what to do next, the group of men nervously exchanged glances with one another.
With his eyes still emitting an intense blue light, Zellrid moved forward.
"I advise you to say sorry to the child and the owner of the inn, pay for all you damaged, and never return. If I even hear the slightest hint that you will visit this village again, you can bet your last gold that I'll be holding your head in my hands. "Is that clear?" The bandits nodded their heads in agreement, cowed by Zellrid's threatening aura. "Yes, sir," one of them stuttered. "We're sorry for causing trouble." With that, they hastily made their way out of the tavern without a second glance.
Zellrid sheathed his sword and turned to face the kid, who was still cowering in the corner. He approached him with slow and measured steps, trying not to scare him even further. As he knelt down beside him, he flinched at his touch. "It's okay," Zellrid reassured gently. "I won't hurt you what your name is, kid." The child looked up at Zellrid with wide, frightened eyes. "M-my name's Aiden," he whispered quietly.
Zellrid nodded slowly and held out a hand to the boy. "Come on, let's get you some hot milk."
After a short pause, Aiden put his hand on Zellrid's. Relieved to find Aiden alive, the innkeeper goes and grabs his hand. "I warned you to hide if bandits showed up, kid. We're really grateful this man is here to help us." Looking at the two of them, Zelred rose to his feet. He addressed the innkeeper, asking, "Are you his mother?" She gave her head.
"No," she said, "his mother died a few years ago, and his father left to serve in the war. When he turned to Aiden again, Zellrid's eyes grew thicker. He also noticed that the child's eyes were filled with sadness, and he quietly asked, "What happened to his mother?"
After a short period of hesitation, the innkeeper revealed the truth. "She was killed by bandits who wanted her husband's debts. They beat her to death while she was pregnant with Aiden. She turned her gaze to the ground. The memory of her sister's brutal death still haunts her. She couldn't shake the image of her sister's lifeless body lying on the ground, surrounded by ruthless bandits. It was a tragedy that left a permanent scar on her heart. She wondered how anyone could be so cruel and heartless as to take the life of an innocent woman. Zellrid nodded his head and prepared to put on his cloak. "Are those bandits the same ones who entered the inn earlier?" he asked the innkeeper.
"No," the innkeeper replied, "but they work for the same guy, Talean Jei, a man who controls bandits in this territory." Zellrid continued his conversation with the innkeeper while walking towards Serana. "So, Talean Jei is to blame for the woman's death, then?" Innkeeper answered, "Yes." "In that case, I'm out to hunt monsters as always," Zellrid said. Then, gently turning to face Serana, he gave her a gold purse. "Take this and find a place to stay in this village so you can eat and sleep. I'll check on Maro after " In agreement, Serana nodded and snatched Zellrid's gold bag away. She observed him approach the child while he did so. "Well, friend, I'll take your revenge.
At the last second, I'll make sure he hears your name. Don't worry about my promise to you: "Take this gold I was saving for myself; take it and aid the innkeeper in any way you can. They could use some extra help here." After handing the boy a sizeable sum of money, After adjusting his cloak, Zellrid ventured outside into the brisk nighttime air. In order to reach Talean Jei's hiding place, Zellrid had to go through the gloomy, meandering forest pathways. He couldn't help but wonder how many innocent lives Talean had claimed under his leadership as he made his way through the jungle. He was furious at the thought, but he suppressed it and concentrated on the job at hand.
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After several hours of walking, Zellrid finally reached a small clearing where he heard voices coming from a distance. He crouched down behind a bush and scanned the area. In front of him stood a small group of bandits, all armed with swords and other weapons.
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Zellrid assumed Talean Jei's enormous tent, which was in the middle of the gathering, belonged to him. He saw the bandits making jokes and laughing around a campfire as others guarded the perimeter. Zellrid watched the gathering closely and waited until the two patrolling bandits were sufficiently far away before he made his move.
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He moved quickly and silently towards the large tent, taking care not to be detected by any of the other bandits. When he arrived at the tent's entrance, he paused for a moment to listen for any sounds coming from inside. Hearing nothing, he carefully lifted the flap and slipped inside. The tent was dimly lit by a single lantern, casting long shadows across the various crates and barrels scattered throughout. Zellrid's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness as he made his way toward the largest crate in the center of the tent.
With practiced ease, he picked the lock and opened the lid, revealing a cache of stolen goods. But then he heard a bandit yell out, 'Someone's in the tent! Hurry up" Zellrid's heart raced as he heard the bandit's voice. He quickly shut the lid of the crate and darted behind it, peering out through a small crack in the wood. He saw a group of bandits rushing towards the tent, swords drawn. Zellrid remained calm and focused as he prepared for what was to come.
The bandits burst into the tent, their eyes scanning the area for any sign of intruders. Zellrid remained perfectly still, his body pressing against the crate as he watched them move around the tent. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to strike at a moment's notice. As the bandits searched for him, he declared himself and said, "Hello, everyone. I am hosting a contest. Tell me who your leader is within the next few seconds, or else you won't make it out alive. Ready? Set? Go!"
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