“I’m guessing you’ll want an explanation. You’ll get one, but eat this first. I don’t want you passing out again. And contrary to what I said when we parted last time, I won’t kill you.”
The assassin passed Visilias a steaming bowl of stew, and he attacked it, asking for more in a matter of seconds.
“As promised, now that you’re devouring your food in the most primitive way possible, I’ll start explaining. My name is Anthira, and as I’ve told you before, I’m an assassin working for our empire, Elduin. We were headed in the same direction, so I tagged along a leeway’s behind your company, and was fortunate enough to witness the fight. I can’t reveal to you our location, but I brought you here shortly after you fainted, and it’s been three days since.”
Visilias swallowed the contents in his mouth before speaking. “So did you see anything.. perhaps.. different occur back there?” He asked, scratching his head with the backside of his spoon.
“You disgust me,” Anthira said, wrinkling her noise in distaste. “But no, I didn’t see anything unusual. Your ability to fight however did surprise me. Why what do you mean?”
“Nothing, don’t mind me.”
Thankfully, Anthira didn’t pester him further on the subject, and instead channeled her attention into tidying up various things around the dingy cellar. Visilias was dying for answers, his questions burning holes into his mind. How had he been able to fight as well as he did? Why did the assailant, who was very clearly a human, dissolve into dust? And most importantly, what had occurred with his eyes? Visilias plunked himself back onto his bed, unable to shake off the feeling that something unusual and perhaps supernatural had occurred. Feeling fatigued yet again, he drifted off into a restless sleep.
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Visilias woke up to a dead silent room. He scanned the room, confirming that Anthira had either left, either temporarily or permanently. He pulled himself sluggishly off the bed, angrily throwing the coarse blanket off to the side after he became entangled in it. A scrap of paper with hastily scribbled text caught his eye.
Travel towards the range of mountains to the right of the cellar’s exit, which will lead you to a city called Kratistie. From there, seek a man named Ureagan, and he will direct you to Elduin’s army. You’ll find a few supplies in the corner. Safe Traveling. –Anthira
Visilias reread the note, letting everything all soak in. A few days ago, he had been a slave and his life had been simple, his only purpose being to please Anseln and heed to his biddings in order to avoid the whips. Now he was stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no one to assist him in finding the mythical Elduin’s army.
At least he was free.
Visilias walked over and inspected the khaki sack containing his supplies. In it were a five loaves of fresh bread, one whetstone, one compass, and four leatherskin bottles, two containing water and two containing some of the delicious stew that Anseln had made last night. Against the wall lay a beautiful sword, its blade a crisp, beautiful silver, its red hilt embedded with a small yet exquisite ruby. Its sheath was surprisingly simple, with the word Ouranos engraved on it, which he made to be the name of this extravagant weapon. He didn’t know if this was meant for him, but it was in the specified corner and he needed a weapon. Visilias slung the sack over his shoulder and buckled the sword and its sheath onto his trousers. He strode over to the ladder leading to the exit of the cellar, undid the latch, and was off.
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