Whispers of A Dead Empire

Chapter 20

Location: Corinthia

"Redrick! How the in the nine hells are ya?" The giant metal-clad paladin's voice tore through my mind, and I felt a grimace cross my face. Damien was arguably one of the terrifying people I have had the pleasure of meeting. He was a zealot of the goddess Vestreya, the patron of war and bloodshed, which wasn't too bad in its own right. But it was his attitude. He was very boisterous and joyful at all times, and it never faltered. Something was off-putting about a man who laughed full of mirth as he tore through a group of bandits who had the idiotic idea of trying to jump him. I tore my eyes from my half-empty mug of hillcrest ale and looked him over.

His armor was polished to a brilliant silver sheen and had a dull red trimming that adorned his breastplate and collar that wrapped around to a flowing blood-red cape. His helm was off and attached to his hip. A pair of radiant blue eyes sat on a perfectly sculpted face and had twinges of golden red highlights in them that pulsed with hidden power. He looked to be freshly shaven. He was known for his long flowing brown hair, but that too was shaven. Maybe he was going for something new. "Hello Damien, what can I do for you this fine day?" My words were rife with my usual overbearing sarcasm.

The large paladin pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. The wood groaned out from under the immense weight as it struggled to contain him. Those enchantments were really putting in the work to stop it from breaking. I mean, Damien wasn't fat, but he was fucking jacked. His level was even greyed out, which told me that he was leagues stronger than I. But I could only guess that he had much of his stat points into constitution and vitality. "Well, ya see. Master Agrimire wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience, and they sent me to retrieve you."

Fuck, I really didn't want to see the guild master. Not that I disliked him, but usually, if he requested to see you, that means one of two things—either a severe reprimand or a high priority quest. I have done nothing too egregious for a reprimand, which would mean that he would want to give me a quest. "I see. Well, damn, I guess my hands are tied then. Mind if I finish this ale? I don't want my hard-earned silver to go to waste."

"Take your time, Redrick. As long as you get there, all is well." He stared at me and gave me a large toothy smile, revealing a mouth full of inhumanly perfect teeth. Man, I envy him. I shrugged and threw the entire mug back. I enjoyed the savory taste for a moment before I let it drain down my throat.

"Alright then, lead the way. I'll be right behind you." I did a quick item check and ran my hand across my rapier's hilt. Out of every item I've ever owned, this was the most valuable to me. It was my father's sword and a symbol of a now-defunct family. It was his dying gift and one that I will forever cherish. I rested my hand across the handle and stood up—the ambient buzz of the tavern filled my ears, and the world shifted slightly. Damn ale, I guess I drank too much. Hopefully, my body can filter out most of it before I get to the guild master.

Damien stood up, the sound of his plate armor clattering as it shifted momentarily drowned out the drone of the tavern's inhabitants. We pushed our way out through the packed dining hall. Damien's massive frame easily parted the sea of people like grass. I kept close to him, careful not to get left behind.

We eventually pushed our way outside and onto the main road of Corinthia. Massive buildings stretched into the sky, and people moved down the street in tightly packed waves across the cobbled streets. This was the capital of the Corinthian Empire. One of the most prominent nations in the world, and they took every chance they could to flaunt that fact. We stepped down from the tavern and onto the street, keeping away from the carriages that filled the streets. "Do you wish to gather the rest of your team?"