SmallSailboat
The one they warned you about
Dominic
Under a tree in the late fall, a breeze flew by and brought a shiver to the man resting underneath it. The wind through his white tunic and leather armor, embroidered in blue by his wife in the winter months, was met with little resistance in its worn and nearly tattered state. He needed to get to the next village, and quickly, before the first snow fell. He was close to finding the ancient city and the treasure within, however, and refused to go home empty handed. He didn’t spend all these long weeks away from his pregnant wife and ailing parents just to come home with nothing. He could hear his father’s voice in his mind already, praising him for doing his best, but he was never good at masking his disappointment whenever he returned empty handed.
“Dominic!” A hunter called to him, catching his attention. The scouting party he was traveling with, sanctioned by the Royal court themselves for an expedition of these ancient lands and the power they were prophesied to hold, sat some ways away enjoying a lunch break before the last leg of their trip. Their group was the third attempt, a dozen or so people with a wide enough range of skills to hope on holding their own. The ruins and their odds of survival were rigged against them, but they had their own ways of evening the playing field. The leaves crunched under his worn brown boots, but he settled in beside the sandy haired man that had been calling for him, throwing an arm over his shoulder in play and making a few jokes seemingly without a care in the world towards the others.
He had enlisted himself as a historian, an archaeologist with pure scholarly interest in the lands, as had two of the others, though they couldn’t withstand a battle like he could. Under his father’s tutelage, as well as his grandfather’s before him, he had battled with the humans and monsters alike that roamed this world and his own. His weapon of choice was a shortsword, though he was well versed in magic. More than he would let his travel companions know, but that was for their best interest and his, anyway. It wasn’t entirely a lie; he really did love history and studying civilizations of the past, meeting other cultures and learning not only the stories they recorded as important, but how they did so in both ancient and recent history. Among his long lineage, he was probably the most avid collector of these things in many generations.
Besides the three scholars, the rest were bodyguards of sorts, meant to battle away any beasts or monsters that had made their home in the tunnels leading into the earth and setting off any traps that might otherwise have endangered the lives of the kingdom’s greatest minds. Though they were hunting for artifacts that were believed to bring great prosperity and protection to their country, all except him were blind to the very one around his neck that did just that- a plain looking key, if looked upon by a plain eye, but those with a sensitivity for aetherological currents would know the overabundance of power that radiated from the pendant, and would likely prefer to study that instead of whatever they found in the cavernous ruins below.
The simple leather strap that kept this all-powerful weapon tied loosely to its Keeper brushed against the black coily hairline on the back of his head, which was a little itchy and tempted him into changing it into something else, but he couldn’t do that here. He couldn’t use transfiguration magic in front of these almost-strangers, that was a higher level magic than what he was supposed to know. In his application to join the expedition, he had cited himself as proficient in enchantment and battle magics. He had to keep a level of humility around these adventurers, passing himself off as a light hearted and eccentric scholar. One who could play around with the swordsmen, but still keep intelligent conversations with his fellow excavators. With obsidian eyes and hair, his gaze was cast out over the plains they would be traveling sprawled out, blades of grass giving its battle cry into the wind, echoing the brave soldiers that fought and died for this land centuries ago in a desperate attempt to protect it. Those remains had already been sent back and categorized for processing, but the main city had yet to be entered.
For a moment he bore the wisdom of nearly fifty predecessors spanning over a thousand years, calculating how he was going to get his hands on the most dangerous of artifacts that lay in wait without altering the others, but they weren’t the most perceptive bunch. That was why he had insisted so much on joining this particular party, even though the blue eyed woman across from him thought it was because the group was largely made of women. She didn’t know about his wife at home, or how much guilt it laid in his chest to have to hide his wedding band in order to keep up his act on certain missions like this one. The composition was largely the reason five of the sellswords accompanying them had joined, she had assumed he was just like the others, just a bit more learned, but he saw no fault in letting her think that. As long as he didn’t have to let her down easy, and they could work together amicably enough, he couldn’t care much of her guesses at his personal life. He would never forget the color of her eyes, or the fear in them when their party fell prey to the ravenous hunger of the ancient castle’s pitfalls and traps. They were the same color as his Rebecca’s, the thought of which was enough to wake him from his dream.
--
He could be found many years later under a similar tree, though his hair was now peppered in silver. Haggard and worn from his many years of travel, he had finally decided to settle down in a small town of a different kingdom, one who didn’t know his name or the failures of his past. He still wore that tunic his wife had made for him, though by this time she and his daughter had been long gone, and he had left his armor behind in a storage area meant for things belonging to past Keepers. He sighed wistfully in his resting place, knowing he would only have a few decades left in him, so he had begun the months long process of warding and barrier magic that it would take to protect this little alcove from those who would seek the dangers he chose to drop anchor here. It was a seafaring town, on top of that, so there was plenty of traffic coming and going to mix with the aether the Collection to protect both it and the nearby residents from anyone tracking him. He served largely as a healer and an older adventurer, regaling people of his stories whenever he was drunk,of Sir Dominic Aegis Levante, but hardly anyone believed him. He was just another old man who had come to their welcoming climate, port city town to retire and rest. He had heard of some strange happenings in the nearby forest, near where the children from the local orphanage liked to play, so in fear of the worst he left his post from underneath the pine and went a few hours inland to investigate. Destiny was on its way to meet him there, but not as a welcome guest.
Under a tree in the late fall, a breeze flew by and brought a shiver to the man resting underneath it. The wind through his white tunic and leather armor, embroidered in blue by his wife in the winter months, was met with little resistance in its worn and nearly tattered state. He needed to get to the next village, and quickly, before the first snow fell. He was close to finding the ancient city and the treasure within, however, and refused to go home empty handed. He didn’t spend all these long weeks away from his pregnant wife and ailing parents just to come home with nothing. He could hear his father’s voice in his mind already, praising him for doing his best, but he was never good at masking his disappointment whenever he returned empty handed.
“Dominic!” A hunter called to him, catching his attention. The scouting party he was traveling with, sanctioned by the Royal court themselves for an expedition of these ancient lands and the power they were prophesied to hold, sat some ways away enjoying a lunch break before the last leg of their trip. Their group was the third attempt, a dozen or so people with a wide enough range of skills to hope on holding their own. The ruins and their odds of survival were rigged against them, but they had their own ways of evening the playing field. The leaves crunched under his worn brown boots, but he settled in beside the sandy haired man that had been calling for him, throwing an arm over his shoulder in play and making a few jokes seemingly without a care in the world towards the others.
He had enlisted himself as a historian, an archaeologist with pure scholarly interest in the lands, as had two of the others, though they couldn’t withstand a battle like he could. Under his father’s tutelage, as well as his grandfather’s before him, he had battled with the humans and monsters alike that roamed this world and his own. His weapon of choice was a shortsword, though he was well versed in magic. More than he would let his travel companions know, but that was for their best interest and his, anyway. It wasn’t entirely a lie; he really did love history and studying civilizations of the past, meeting other cultures and learning not only the stories they recorded as important, but how they did so in both ancient and recent history. Among his long lineage, he was probably the most avid collector of these things in many generations.
Besides the three scholars, the rest were bodyguards of sorts, meant to battle away any beasts or monsters that had made their home in the tunnels leading into the earth and setting off any traps that might otherwise have endangered the lives of the kingdom’s greatest minds. Though they were hunting for artifacts that were believed to bring great prosperity and protection to their country, all except him were blind to the very one around his neck that did just that- a plain looking key, if looked upon by a plain eye, but those with a sensitivity for aetherological currents would know the overabundance of power that radiated from the pendant, and would likely prefer to study that instead of whatever they found in the cavernous ruins below.
The simple leather strap that kept this all-powerful weapon tied loosely to its Keeper brushed against the black coily hairline on the back of his head, which was a little itchy and tempted him into changing it into something else, but he couldn’t do that here. He couldn’t use transfiguration magic in front of these almost-strangers, that was a higher level magic than what he was supposed to know. In his application to join the expedition, he had cited himself as proficient in enchantment and battle magics. He had to keep a level of humility around these adventurers, passing himself off as a light hearted and eccentric scholar. One who could play around with the swordsmen, but still keep intelligent conversations with his fellow excavators. With obsidian eyes and hair, his gaze was cast out over the plains they would be traveling sprawled out, blades of grass giving its battle cry into the wind, echoing the brave soldiers that fought and died for this land centuries ago in a desperate attempt to protect it. Those remains had already been sent back and categorized for processing, but the main city had yet to be entered.
For a moment he bore the wisdom of nearly fifty predecessors spanning over a thousand years, calculating how he was going to get his hands on the most dangerous of artifacts that lay in wait without altering the others, but they weren’t the most perceptive bunch. That was why he had insisted so much on joining this particular party, even though the blue eyed woman across from him thought it was because the group was largely made of women. She didn’t know about his wife at home, or how much guilt it laid in his chest to have to hide his wedding band in order to keep up his act on certain missions like this one. The composition was largely the reason five of the sellswords accompanying them had joined, she had assumed he was just like the others, just a bit more learned, but he saw no fault in letting her think that. As long as he didn’t have to let her down easy, and they could work together amicably enough, he couldn’t care much of her guesses at his personal life. He would never forget the color of her eyes, or the fear in them when their party fell prey to the ravenous hunger of the ancient castle’s pitfalls and traps. They were the same color as his Rebecca’s, the thought of which was enough to wake him from his dream.
--
He could be found many years later under a similar tree, though his hair was now peppered in silver. Haggard and worn from his many years of travel, he had finally decided to settle down in a small town of a different kingdom, one who didn’t know his name or the failures of his past. He still wore that tunic his wife had made for him, though by this time she and his daughter had been long gone, and he had left his armor behind in a storage area meant for things belonging to past Keepers. He sighed wistfully in his resting place, knowing he would only have a few decades left in him, so he had begun the months long process of warding and barrier magic that it would take to protect this little alcove from those who would seek the dangers he chose to drop anchor here. It was a seafaring town, on top of that, so there was plenty of traffic coming and going to mix with the aether the Collection to protect both it and the nearby residents from anyone tracking him. He served largely as a healer and an older adventurer, regaling people of his stories whenever he was drunk,of Sir Dominic Aegis Levante, but hardly anyone believed him. He was just another old man who had come to their welcoming climate, port city town to retire and rest. He had heard of some strange happenings in the nearby forest, near where the children from the local orphanage liked to play, so in fear of the worst he left his post from underneath the pine and went a few hours inland to investigate. Destiny was on its way to meet him there, but not as a welcome guest.
