The Broken Realm

Chapter 2

KELTHAS

Somewhere in Blackwood, something startled the birds into flight, a great cloud of black rising from the emerald crowns of oaks and ironbarks. A single long column of wagons and carts rolled steadily over a narrow road paved with gravel and stone, like ants towards their colony.

Kelthas stirred from within his saddle, mustering the strength to force a beady eye open, as his brown palfrey trotted beside the wagons. By the gods, my buttocks ache with every bump, he groaned internally. Unlike the merchants and the sellswords that guarded them, he was garbed in loose grey robes of silken linen, a luxury few could afford. A raven surrounded by arcane symbols had been stitched on the breast of his robe in threads of gold, signifying his origins.

He had lodged at Blacksand village for a few moons, awaiting anyone able to lead him towards Stoneridge Pass. The dusty roads were perilous for those traveling in solitude. As luck would have it, a convoy of Bronze Merchants had stopped by the village to replenish their supplies. He recognised their insignia, a golden imperial surrounded by the red sun. Upon learning of his predicament - and his lofty origins, they extended an invitation for him to join them in their journey towards Windred. A revered person of Ravenhold was welcome in any party.

There were twenty wagons and carts, all carrying the symbol of the Bronze Merchants. One might wonder why a convoy carrying valuable goods of trade would announce their travel with such bold impunity. A trader belonging to the Bronze Merchants feared not the pursuit of bandits and slavers, for what the merchants lacked in strength and men, they made up for with golden imperials. When times were lean, sellswords were cheaper than grain. And times were always lean.

Some tell of how a group of slavers had set upon a column of wagons belonging to the Bronze Merchants, robbing their gold and stock. The men and women were sold in a remote Talarian marketplace. They did not live to enjoy their ill-begotten fortunes for long. The Bronze Merchants had bought swift retribution with a hundred skilled swords and a mage from Ravenhold. Their heads were delivered in chests of ornate silver, across the dark waters of Leviathan's Sea, to Temeria where the Masters of the Bronze Merchants resided. Since then, brigands and murderers have steered clear of all business that may incur the wrath of the Bronze Merchants. As they say, what use is coin if you can't spend it? Merchants bearing their emblem were safer in their trades throughout Elysia. Only from the dangers of men, for other perils exist within the lands. Their coffers swelled with coin of gold and silver.

Perhaps some walking might ease the pain, he thought, letting out a groan of discomfort. Kelthas slowly swung himself from his horse as he struggled to minimise the pain welling from his bottom. His mop of sandy brown hair flew wildly around his head, obstructing his view; the wind had blown in from Leviathan's Sea, strong and sudden, like the descend of a redwing eagle onto its unwary prey. In annoyance, Kelthas brushed his unruly hair back with a careless hand while stretched into his horse pack, extracting a thick leather-bound tome.

"Is that it?" exclaimed Bryan, excitement evident in his eyes. Built like a bear, his broad chest and arms were corded with muscle and sinew. Clad in leather and ringmail, there was no mistaking the copper insignia on his chest, twin swords crossed over a golden imperial. He was one of the Watchguard, skilled mercenaries employed by the Bronze Merchants. They were separated into grades of iron, copper, silver and gold amongst their ranks. As is the colour of his insignia, Bryan possessed the authority of one belonging to the copper grade of Watchguard. There were no unskilled men within the Watchguard; the Bronze Merchants only hired only the very best and armed them as heavily as the knights of old.

"Is what it?" Kelthas replied in confusion, momentarily halting his movements.

"Is that your grimoire? Your book of spells? The tome of magic containing the secrets of mana?" replied Bryan enthusiastically, globs of saliva splattering from his mouth like drops of summer rain. "I hear all mages always carry theirs about them, ever ready to cast their spells."