Southern Niriu was once the glorious and treasured domain of the Etirii, or the hill people. They were called the Etirii, being the denizens of Asair Etirranen, or the 'Blessed Hill Lands'. Yet the locals had rejected the ancient and so-called 'high speech', in favor of their own, and they did not like the word for their race. It was not easy to converse with them – some would refuse to speak to you, if you were not using the common tongue, though they still knew the ancient language of their ancestors.

  The capital city of Etirranen was all that remained of their past glory, even if it was heavily populated, heavily traversed and dirty, and often visited by market shoppers who cared little for local customs. Perhaps it was fair in some portions still, but often of late there were tales and rumors coming to them, and through them: tales of bandits roaming the countryside in search of new spoils, of bold beasts hunting farther afield than usual. The green hills – yet another common name for their city's hinterlands – were ending another festival season after another harvest.

  A spellcaster, Shiden Muiras, wandered up the stairs ahead of him, ignoring the whispers of a terrible bunch of ragtag commoners passing by. He was more well-off and had better clothing as an adult, but the snide comments on his state of wear still annoyed him; they had been bad enough in his youth. He was twenty-seven now, and even after ten years of coming to the capital itself, there were few in the country he called a friend.

  The palace was ahead, and he hurried on past the upper markets, shaking off the memory of another trip to a worse place than this one. Shiden recalled his last journey to the awful, nightmarish, abysmal land of ash in Niriu's southern parts; the deadlands they were called, and were the remains of a place called King's Sanctuary. The spellcaster was fighting off a weariness in his limbs. The steep palace stairs had him gasping deeply and hoarsely with every attempt at resting on each landing; the path was leading up to the great gate. The gate was made with heavy wood logs and steel, and only reluctantly opened at the start of the day by guards in armor from the glory days of Etirranen.

  Now, they only called it Etirran, hating the commoner name of 'Green Hills'. It was the 'Hill Lands' to them, or the Hill Country, named for its most respected King, the lord Etir who had fought against the terrible threat of the Shroud Armada. The war had been so very long ago that none in the city could remember it, because there were none alive who had fought in the battles against the armada's vast army, despite the many petty complaints about the use of their country's older name.

  Shiden wasted a few minutes chatting with a courier he knew, waiting for his own guards to come up after him; they were very old now. These two were his only friends among the northern race of men, known in this age as the Raiiya. Brelann, and Kallan, they were named – two members of a traveling company of knights, twin brothers, men of the infamous Blue Company – and they were clad in the bright, blue, heavy armor it was known for.

  They had their cloaks on, and crossbows were beneath these on leather slings. The company was made up of four sub-companies full of numerous men, who did not always get along; but the twins were his closest traveling companions among them, and a part of the local branch, and were not at all unkind to him. Then again, he'd met them when he was only fifteen. Shiden looked back down the way to watch for them; there they were, stomping up the high, steep, polished stones of the great stairway to the king's palace.

  The throng of locals was pressing on them. The spellcaster shifted to the side as a few local children passed by him with no supervision, wondering if the locals were taking the precautions his captains warned about seriously enough. He watched them until they disappeared around the winding bend of the staircase. Shiden feared for them, but they would not have understood why, and he knew a drill had been announced the day before, to begin in the early morning hours.

  One of the twins tapped Shiden on the shoulder then, startling him out of his thoughts. Brelann's voice was hoarse, likely from breathing the smog clouding the northern district where he was often deployed. “Doing well, Master Muiras? Shall we go on in? Not looking forward to it, are you?”

  Shiden only laughed, and nodded in the direction of the gate. Together they entered in, and it was like a different world altogether. Guards were drilling in the yard ahead; the fenced area before a decrepit tavern on its eastern side was full of supervising officers. A few went inside; they were not gathering for drinks, but poring over notes and reports of the evacuation effort.

  “They really despise the drills, don't they, Mister Brelann? I don't envy them. To get this rabble to go where you want is like dealing with unruly beasts,” said Shiden.

  The knight pointed upward, at a terrace high above them. There was a man up there, looking out over the domains from above, in his great bedchamber. “Well, they have his ranting to avoid.”

  The man left the terrace. Shiden watched him enter back into his lofty chamber. The spellcaster groaned and picked up his pace, walking toward the familiar high door at the back of the yard. Arrows were flying overhead, shot by the latest recruits. Yells were not deafening, but he could hear them; they were the sounds of young men who were often recruited from the central district at the age of ten, and had been training in the city's annual war quests. Shiden passed the training hall, and entered into the door of the barracks. He wondered if any of last year's winners were among those in the yard. More guards were there, more than usual, and in their standard-issue iron armor.

  Shiden dropped a coin bag onto a desk and clapped a hand on the shoulder of a man he recognized. His eyes were down, staring at a recent report with scribblings in the margins, and he grunted as Shiden passed by; he spoke no words. Shiden blushed despite his usual feigned sternness. The man did not look up, anyway, but the spellcaster was still embarrassed. He continued on and braced himself for another steep climb.

  The stairs were of slate-wood taken out of the westlands, and wound about many times through the palace's narrow passages. The company leader passed many rooms, open or not, and many windows – eventually; most of the barrack's floors had none, until one got to the highest levels of the palace. Light streamed in from above, and when Shiden reached a window, he glanced out at the vast fields of green where his friends made their living. He did not stop again until he got to the door of a waiting area for visiting scholars and foreign delegates. There were few inside this room.

  Aliin Karan was irate, as usual. His gait was slow, and his thoughts were dark; he was focused on one thing only: victory. His hands were clenched, and his brow furrowed. The elder of the palace entered his bed chamber again, reluctant to leave the terrace. He knew what he had to do, and braced for the next letdown and the next excuse from his latest visitor. The palace was run down and decrepit. Most of the floors would have had a layer of dust all over them, if the elders did not like it to be cleaned every day. Karan was the palace's sole military occupant, and he shared the structure with the Watchers who guarded the council, and the palace's own guards.

  His advisory team had been convened hastily for a meeting with several more understanding individuals. Warriors, translators, and even wandering Heroes from many other nations had already come and gone back to their lives over the past few days. Few answered his call, two of them being his own siblings – and they had done so, he imagined, because they were already bound to visit the palace by their occupations.

  Rieth had gone; Karan's brother was a rough-looking man, which was not surprising, given his bearing. He was a frequent traveler to the country's wild lands, its former holds in better days, and traveled northward often. Their sister, Aliin Megia, one of the eldest members of the Watchers, was in the chamber with Karan now. She was not looking up when he re-entered the room, and she was leaning against one of the chamber's many support pillars, obviously tired from taking part in a rite which gave her, and others like her, the ability to peer – for a short time – at future events.

  There was a navigational chart in Megia's hands, unfurled like most of the scrolls on the table beside her. Her eyes darted from marking to marking, and she was murmuring to herself in a strange way. Unintelligible words escaped her lips once in a while, also. Karan knew the language, but not the context for it here.

  The elder of the palace scratched his scarred cheek. “Are you so desperate?,” he asked. “Why look there, now? I expected you to search nearer shores for assistance. Unless―.”

  “Yes, you guess correctly,” responded Megia. “This is one of the charts of prophecy bearers – the acolytes who told kings their fated futures.”

  Karan scoffed and walked over to a seat next to a long table. There was one of Megia's students there, poring over more scrolls. Her pen had stopped scratching, though she pretended to be reading a book, in order to eavesdrop.

  The elder remarked on the scrolls at the table; there was another chart in front of him. “I never learned to see through their irritatingly bizarre disguises. Will it help, do you think? The pirates were in allegiance with the enemy once, if you don't know? If the map you are reading is a normal navigational chart as well―.”

  “I can hardly decipher what is obscured here, anyway. The ancient prophets hid these messages well. Nearer shores? No, brother. Most of those who fought on them are dead, now. We are running out of potential allies who have faced our enemy and know how to defeat them.”

  Karan laughed and shook his head. “Surely, there are not so many gullible youths who don't know about the previous campaign against our latest. It is why the War Quests were created after all – a gentle way to train, and to encourage them.”

  The woman closed the scroll and took it to a shelf at the back of the room, beyond the lantern's dim glow. “Yes,” she called out, “but they treat it as a game, I hear – haven't been to one of the arena fights in years. Waste of time, maybe.”

  Megia approached her student when she was done, and checked over the notes the woman had been taking. “Well, Saiya, I think I have found what we need, so leave for the barracks and wait for my arrival. I can finish up here and join you later.”

  The woman handed a coin bag to her student, and whispered something. Karan could not hear the words, but Saiya quickened her pace, tossing material into her rucksack with haste. She was ready to get out of the stifling room and back to her home in time.

  “Of course, teacher, I will have a meal ready for you by the usual time.” Saiya moved to another table for a moment; strewn across it were many crumpled scraps of notes and several books opened to pages covered with scribbled annotations and corrections in the margins. The clearing away was daunting, but again Megia gave word to leave it.

  Karan stood and bowed to the young woman. “Goodbye, Lady Aurien. Twenty-four, and already more useful than the other student translators here – a tremendous fortune my sister met you, I think.”

  After this, Karan turned his attention to Megia again and began speaking in their native language; her own voice was raised suddenly, within only a few responses; she responded back as if she was angry. Saiya was astonished, but she returned the bow and went to the door at a faster pace. It was more of a curt nod, for her part. “Goodbye, Elder,” she whispered.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  But why me, Elder – what did you not say? Hiro was correct – you and the council do know something is not quite right. Why did you have the council call for a drill?

  The chamber door opened as Saiya reached it; beyond were several armed men, and someone she hadn't seen since the previous evening. Shiden entered into the room with part of his traveling company. Saiya looked on at his plain attire, which was accentuated only by the tattered, cerulean and sable-colored fabric he wore every day as a makeshift scarf.

  The westlands were full of fumes – and bandits to recognize your face. She went to him and hugged him. His hand left his side only briefly; before, as he entered, it had been on the scepter in the sheath lashed to his belt; his other was still on the hilt of a dagger on the other side. He only gave her a hug with one arm, with a quick flash of a smile, before continuing on, stepping aside for her to exit.

  Saiya donned a hood, quickly putting it over her head with her pale, trembling hands. She smiled too, but this was unseen by the others, for the shadow of her covering quickly hid the woman's face from view. Her gaze passed over the torn fabric on Shiden's right sleeve as he turned. The flax garments had seen better days, but this was a long tear, and it was not there the night before.

  By the door to the chamber were several of Shiden's armored compatriots, including the two twin knights, Brelann and Kallan. Saiya greeted the former in their native tongue, and bowed her head in a sign of respect to the latter, before descending the stairs. A third knight followed after her, whispering many words in their language. Captain Aurien followed his daughter, but some sensation came over him, some foreboding. He paused a moment, and looked out of a south-facing window with his head tilted, and picked up his pace when he resumed his descent.

  Shiden passed along the shelves ahead of him, and moved deeper into the bedchamber; the main room had been turned into a records archive some time after the passing of the King Etir, so very long ago that few knew when it had actually happened. The king had died, and there were many scholars in those days, with few places to store their long books of lore. He approached Aliin Megia, greeted her with a quick, one-armed hug, and took his heavy rucksack off. He dropped it onto the table, sat at Saiya's recently vacated seat across from Karan, and began rummaging through it, but he stopped suddenly and thought it would be better to wait.

  “Mother, Master Aliin – our Enemy has returned. No longer is this only some rumor made up by the rats in the marketplace, although they have been taking the annual War Quests seriously lately, I was told. Well, if they know something's off, they did not get the news from me. In any case, I have verifiable evidence for once, not anecdotes from admirers of gossip and slander.”

  For nearly two hours Shiden spoke to them, without many pauses, though Megia and her elder sibling exchanged many glances. They already knew some of it. He sensed the elder was only humoring him. At least a few of his recent discoveries were enough to corroborate many of the latest reports to reach Karan's ears. The elder of the palace offered him several drinks in between more discussions. Shiden turned them all down, except for one poured from a tall jug he made certain was only full of water. He spoke of northern lore – aided by his mother's interjections – and its relevance to the bandit gangs now prevalent in the southlands. They had been, as he'd long suspected, of the Raiiya, before defecting.

  Shiden finally broached the subject of the last major battle. Karan had been feeling quite agitated, and was now even more obvious about his irritation; there were many remnants from it, and many of them had come to him recently; he was a collector of artifacts, but not because of a desire for money, as a hobby, or sentimental attachments. He was only the recipient of artifacts as payment, from many people who traveled to see him, to beg for aid in defending their own far off villages and towns. He was forced to deny them often; at least they could hire wandering Heroes. Karan could not even deploy the guild forces if he desired to. Not directly, at least.

  “Is it another banner you want to show me? Another banner from bygone days? I have seen them often; you would not be the first to show me one. They have been recovered many times on patrols lately. I have enough now to carpet the entire damned floor with them. Of course the pace at which they are brought to me is somewhat alarming. Three months since the last; most of the ones I received this year are from the northwest. It was more frequent, last year. Many have used our ancient sigil in the past decade, and they always turn out to be mere bandits, seeking to strike fear into the nomads and the occasional village chieftain. It could be that traitor Hollan. He has caused much grief lately.”

  Shiden looked into the rucksack on the table. He still didn't take anything out. “I have heard those rumors as well, but I am not talking about stolen banners from a forgotten country. The opinion of the council may be irrelevant. Are you not the final authority? How many of my discoveries are to be mocked? I went to visit the northlands; I found this, also,” Shiden ended. He rummaged again through his belongings, and finally drew forth a dagger from the pack. He held it up, and it drew the other's gaze, and Karan's expression changed, as though he were experiencing some sort of physical pain.

  For a moment in the dark archive room, Karan was taken back to that dreadful day when he had to make a terrible decision, which led to the death of many people. He sat tense on his seat. “Where did you find it?”

  Shiden glanced at his mother before responding, hesitating once. “A gravesite in the north. My former shipmates were on shore leave, and I went to explore the tombs after visiting with them. I hadn't seen them in a long time, you see. I met a translator through my old captain, who guided me through the area. A pardon is the only thing I have ever asked the council for. Never approval. I beg for yours, now – I am sorry for taking it, but I had to.”

  Karan looked upon the dagger. It was ancient; Karan knew it even when he was a child not allowed to touch weapons, but it still looked the same as it always had. “It was my family's weapon. You could not have known, but you do not fully understand my emotions now. You seem to think I am like the fools on the Council. I am not. I always suspected a possible return – but this? It was sealed into one of the tombs, with a powerful sealing ward on the door.”

  The elder stared at the weapon on the table before him. “They broke into them, then. Well, then it is no longer necessary to convince me of anything. I think I understand. When you leave, take what provisions you require from my personal larder. I know how the commoners treat spell users such as you – but I still envy you, wanderer. You have always done things your own way; I know the council well, having listened to its veiled speech many times. Many of them pretend to be so meek. I tire of it. You only have to spend time here to encounter it.”

  Shiden seemed to hesitate again. He passed the dagger gently across the table towards Karan, who left it in front of him without handling it. “I found it near a body, resting on a raised marble platform. There was something else there. There were torn pages from an infamous tome: the L'iiyrohai. I brought them, and the knife. Lady Aurien is studying the pages, of course. I traveled to the tomb with the translator I mentioned: I do not know where he went, but he was able to tell me about them. The pages contained an unnerving passage.”

  'A wanderer will be waiting there. Seek after his Way, and he will speak to you regarding one who is to slay the great Enemy. . . .'

  Karan scowled; his gaze turned aside for a moment as he recalled something he heard his mother recite long ago, one part of many verses of lore she spoke about while on her death bed. He frowned at the similarity, not recalling the entirety of the writings, but spoke no words to the caster regarding it.

  “So it begins again. The Council would know nothing of it. It has been so long. Are you sure you have seen parts of the ancient Codex? Then it was stolen once more, or a copy of it was.”

  Shiden rose, and slung his rucksack over one shoulder after closing the drawstring. “The rest of the writing seemed to describe my discovery of the very same pages I found. The first described my introduction to the translator. Or that is how I perceived it. He tried to discourage those thoughts. But many verses were in it, recorded long ago, maybe; it was – disturbing, to say the least. The others were not translated, I had no time to wait there.”

  Karan got up from his place too, to lead Shiden to the exit, but the elder's intuition drew his attention to the terrace, and he went suddenly to it. Megia stood by, her hand in a pocket. “Quiet, please,” called out Karan. “I feel very odd – there is a trembling, can you feel it? Yes, there is even a light, over to the south.”

  A bright flash blinded them momentarily. “Megia, cast Barrier, now!”

  She responded, putting forth her hand; in it was a healer's scalpel, and Megia held it aloft in the direction of the terrace doors. A shimmering blue field of light appeared before the doorway. The glass in the doors shattered, despite her spell. A fierce wind came in, and Karan was shoved backward into the shelving behind him. He grasped the railing of the steps leading up toward the terrace, and descended back to the central tables to get farther away from the doors. One of the doors slammed to the ground, knocked off its hinges from the force of the wind. Glass fragments were sent flying in their direction.

  Megia's Barrier was hardly strong enough to protect them. She dropped to a knee, clutching at her right arm after letting the scalpel fall to the floor. Several deep lacerations and burns were beginning to form on it. The woman's concentration broke, and the barrier started to flash rapidly. Her arm began to bleed profusely. She could only look on in horror; a vast orb of light, in appearance much like a smaller sun, was rising into the sky over a place in the southern district of the region. It hovered for a moment, and shot many bursts of fire in many directions. After another minute, it exploded into a greater blast, and engulfed the surrounding area.

  Karan slunk further into the shadows. He did not speak at first. He did not want to acknowledge the truth, but he had to. The elder turned slowly, and glared at the sentries by the side door to another part of the palace. “You already know what to do,” Elder Karan ordered, in a tranquil manner, despite his obvious fear and anger. “Go. Now. Summon all of them. Tell them the Lady Aliin will join them shortly.”

  The sentry men exited swiftly, and passed into a secret passage beyond a bookcase in Karan's private library, waiting tensely for the stone wall to open. One of them went ahead, and the second manipulated a hidden lever twice, rushing into the passage so he was not crushed to death by the door closing on him.

  Karan watched them go. “Stay, Megia, I want a quick word,” he said, and he sat down upon the steps leading to the terrace. Several other palace guards followed Shiden and his companions out of the main door.

  Megia wandered back to her research material in a daze. Her eyes struggled to focus on the dusty volumes in front of her. The oracle looked up after some time, after stuffing several scrolls into her pack. There was blood on her right arm and the sleeve was ripped; her journal's cover had blood upon it. She attempted to wipe it off with her other sleeve before putting it in the pack. “What did I just have to protect us from, Karan? You know who did it – tell me, now: are they back?”

  Karan looked at her silently before putting a hand in his robe pocket. He took out a furled scroll with gold edges and an inscription on one of the ends, which marked it as a record of the Raiiya people. “Of course I do, and I do not even need your gift of foresight to know it. Our family's tomb is not the only one Cinar Raiya has disturbed. I was there, sister, all those years ago, when the great council decided to lie to its people.”

  Megia waited for him to continue, only speaking when he didn't say anything more. “How is he so powerful now? His infernal abilities can reach us from the farm lands? All the way at the palace? We are an hour away from those lands – well, if we were to go there using the best carriage drivers, at least. How?”

  “He was always an aberration, even for one of the Shroud's heralds. Whatever you think you know, the charts you wanted earlier won't help you,” said Karan. There was a curious expression on his face, and he seemed to be wavering.

  “Go restore yourself at a healing house; that is a terrible wound – you could not do it yourself, and I know your stubbornness. You'd wait too long before seeking aid. Take this scroll, read it when you can. If the real Codex tome has been recovered, there is little time to act. It is not necessary for their power to grow, but they might seek after it for another reason. I wrote most of this report myself, if you want to know. We outnumbered his forces, and we still lost.”

  Megia snatched the scroll from her brother's hand. “Can they be killed,” she said. “And what is this? Why did you hide this one?”

  Karan laughed and rose to his feet. “You're such a bad liar. You know exactly what I gave you – well, I certainly hope they can die. All others who received a copy of my report are dead, now, and I no longer care about the deceits we had to make use of. If any will consider it, find help, and quick. I am sorry for keeping it hidden. I had to. Now, leave me, and do not return.”

  Megia saw him pick something up off of the main table as she went out, something that glinted in the lantern light. She did not wait to see what it was, but slammed the door as she exited the room.

  Shiden sat waiting in the tavern for news and orders, doing his best to aid those wounded in the blast with minor healing spells. After some time, his curiosity got the better of him. He followed after one of the senior captains, losing sight of the man at the entrance to the main courtyard. There were too many rushing to the stairs to see what had happened. He gave up trying to find a spot to see it for himself, but he knew roughly where the blast had been, and he was terrified for those who lived there. Only then did Shiden receive any information. He turned to see his mother coming up to him; Megia said nothing, but passed her son a note, and left his side.

  Of Mice and Men, and Hedda Gabler. I've been working on this feverish pipe dream for 22 years. Went from a journal entry for my college prep class, then a tabletop campaign idea I was kiting with a friend in high school, to a comic series, to what it's become now, between warehouse jobs and mail room gopher slavery. Hope you guys enjoy. Time to expose my heart to be shot at. Eh, well, dedicate this one to Mister M., who sparked interest in expanding that short story into a long series of adventures.

  Series Preface

  space ranger sorry, "Relic Hunter", actually DO? What was in the mysterious note that our handsome protagonist Shiden received from his mum at the end of Chapter 2? Why did Cinar Raiya attack our heroes in the first place? Who is the mysterious fire wielder that burned down Hiro's epic starter base? Who was creepily watching the gallant Captain Aurien from the woods around his daughter's house? Where would the civilians of Etirran even go for safety during an attack? Why was the capital so full of smug, black-armored, elitist jerks?! - and what the h*ck are Runners, anyway? Find out next time on...okay, we won't do that reference. I just wanted to avoid spoiling anything, this is only the first chapter. You're gonna stick around, right?

  Volume 1's 20 Chapter Limited Edition on Ko-Fi - 150 epub copies

  Volume 1's 17-chapter Standard Edition