The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 663

Chapter 663: “Hello Traveler”

“Hello traveler, are you new around these parts?”

“Greetings,” replied Igna, “-I’d say I’m quite accustomed to the surroundings. Have matters changed?” Rough-edged benched paired by constant shakes of the rocky paths had many of a lesser plumb bottom sneer.

“Not really,” said the elderly-looking woman, “-Glenda’s become quite the talk of the province. Let me tell you, in my old days as a housewife, I never expected the war to have such effects on our daily lives.”

“Don’t worry about my granny,” interjected a younger boy, “-we’re all residents of a nearby village.”

“Everyone here is related?”

“How did you know?” returned a motherly figure. He took a moment to think of an answer, ‘-I can’t be rude and say they’re bear similar features.’

“Call it a hunch,” said he behind the mask of nervousness.

.....

“Are you a single father?” presumed the mother, “-the attire’s quite fit for a traveler, are you perhaps rich?”

“I’d say my father’s a prominent trader. The little gloom-ball is my daughter.”

“Must be harsh,” sympathized the grandmother, “-to raise a kid at such a young age.”

“No, it’s easy,” added Vanesa, “-pops very rich, we get what we want.”

“Very rich,” a sparkle lit the obvious greed, “-might I ask thy name?”

“Do forgive my daughter,” he patted her long oily hair, “-she’s a bit dazed from the travels. I’d say I’m fortunate, and not rich. Being completely honest, life outside of Arda is easier.”

“True that,” sighed the granny, “-back in my days, us demi-humans were prosecuted without justification. Part of my ear was chopped before their grandfather swooped in. He was a mage from the Order or something, a very wealthy man.”

“-Granny...” sighed the bystanders, the grandson hid his face into his mom’s back. The latter signaled to be silent. “-the good ol’ days. I remember it as if it was yesterday. The Dorchestrian war raged the land, my sister and I were on a trip, it was the first time we ever went abroad. The walk lasted months, until the cheapest carriage. We were allowed passage to Dorchester only; thankfully, my brother at the time served the royal family, his skills in battle made us a somewhat prominent family, maybe not prominent, we did better than the other families. One of the granted favors was an expedition outside the border. Father thought to start a trading business, and I was sent to negotiate. War had been rampant for decades, the province decided into aggression and non-aggression sectors. Sadly, our carriage was ambushed by masked men. Our supplies and the passengers were killed, only women and children were allowed to live. Those times were rough, I can’t tell how long we endured. Our bodies grew skinny, and my sister somewhere along died of starvation and diseases of vulgar nature. My beastwoman appearance didn’t turn men on like she did, in a way, this ugly face of mine made it on shock horror value. Strangely enough, instead of a lady, they saw me as a replacement for a warrior. My tiger blood and carnivorous tendencies changed my persona into a warrior. In time, our band of mercenaries became well-known around the region, the highest point was 5 thousand men. We occupied the border between Arda and Dorchester. In time, I realized the reason my sister and I were sent. Father and brother lied, we were supposed to be pleasant gifts for the men, distraction for their hard work defending the border. Our carriage contained supplies for them, and never us, we were doomed from the start. Let me tell you son, the war in those days was rough. Still, this ol’ granny made it alive through countless battles. I ripped, ate, and slaughtered to survive, Then, the last battle I ever fought arrived, we were ambushed by a party of mages, the leader, someone by the name of Josiah, or whatever. I couldn’t believe my defeat at the hands of a kid your age named Tempest something. Whatever, we lose, and I was set free by a stranger from that mage team, he found me attractive and I figured why not. If I was to die, I’d at least know what the world had to offer. Color me surprised when I was then sent back home. There, I started a family without a man, worked as a mercenary, and grew to a sustainable life. My brother and father were killed on orders of the queen, they leaked information to the enemy. Thankfully, we were cut from the family name.”

‘I get why the boy didn’t wish to hear her story. The granny, despite her appearance, is very graphic in the details. Even I cringed at her tactlessness.’

“-anyway, the Empire’s invasion was news to me. Here I thought we had a humble king and strong queen ruling our continent.”

“No grandma, the rulership changed a few years ago,” added the grandson.

“Oh yeah, the king died on an expedition to the Empire?”

“Granny,” slipped.

“You called me granny?” her fiery eyes dimmed, “-come here,” she wrapped his head under her armpit, “-you’re a gentleman, aren’t you,” she laughed.

‘Her grip is strong,’ he tapped her elbow, “-I yield, my lady!”

“Let her go, mother.”

“Fine, whatever,” the grip eased, “-boy, where are you from?”

“The world plays various tricks, I’d never imagined such a chance encounter.”

“What you mean, don’t be a vague boy.”

“The man Tempest Haggard is actually my uncle,” he leaned and to watch the road ahead, “-the mage party was probably him and his teachers. Josiah’s an instructor at a prestigious academy in Oxshield.”

“Oh,” the mother’s eyes came to a pretty astute conclusion, “-you’re related to the royal family?”

“Yes,” said Igna, “-Staxius Haggard, the king who died, was my uncle.”

“The Devil of Glenda,” said the grandson, “-are you him?” he watched in wonder.

“I suppose my name’s pretty known around here,” a nervous scratch of the cheek sold the relatable young noble story.

“You’re experienced in battle too, son?” fired the rider, “-believe it or not, I was an adventurer too until I took an arrow to the knee. The undead archers from the Azure walls are no joke.”

“Isn’t life hard in Arda?” inquired he.

“Not so much as Hect would make it believable,” said the mother, “-true, it’s hard to come across food.”

“-Ignore them,” gestured the granny, “-food’s abundant at Glenda, the villages are striving hard to make the accommodation of victims viable. There are jobs to be had, a new dungeon was found at the location of an ex-castle. Adventuring’s pretty effective. Their possibilities are endless. If not for that dungeon, I doubt the faction to handle the influx.”

“A new dungeon?”

“Yeah, it’s increased traffic from the neighboring lands,” said the rider, “-since the place is hidden inside the walls, the sense of security is much more pleasant.”

“What about the royal capital?” inquired Igna.

“No idea,” shrugged they, “-the place’s gone silent. Even the church has stopped their useless attempts at conversion.”

“Don’t let the optimism veer thy head, Viscount of Glenda,” added the mother, “-true be it the town’s done a lot for the survivors, truthfully, a single town can’t possibly help an entire province. The other nobles are on edge ever since newer construction. The newspaper, the propaganda’s lesser implicit in that issue. Nobles boycotting the food situation is the tip of the iceberg, the province isn’t going to last another year. The economy’s going to take far longer to heal; the lizardmen, main farmers at the swamp, have perished, income is cut.”

“Do pardon my surprise, you’re well versed in the matters of state.”

“I was once part of the queen’s entourage,” her face and profile didn’t spark a memory. “No matter, I’m surprised a noble would bother to travel alongside commoners.”

The wall of Arda stood prominently, a line of carriages and hand-drawn carts waited. Military outposts of the Blood-King’s affiliation were stern in checking the supplies.

“It’ll take a few minutes, why not take a walk around the village,” suggested the rider, “-I’ll rejoin once my cargo has been inspected.”

“Come along,” hailed the bossy granny.

“Me too?” pointed Igna to himself.

“Yeah, come on,” she smiled. The grandson and mother were also very inviting. Pleased by the encounter, they ambled to a tall and beefy arch. “-mom, how long did it take to build this?”

“They say it happened in an instant.”

“Took around a year’s time to construct,” said Igna.

“How would you know?” inquired the still vibrant granny.

“The prince and I built it.”

“Two men...” they paused, “-seriously?”

“Forget I mentioned it,” a checkpoint for people had sterner-looking guards. A sure impressive crowd of constant chatter drowned the acquaintances’ conversation, Vanesa climbed from the piggyback to his shoulders. ‘-Don’t tell me they’ve begun to build a village...’

“Checkpoint,” the line shuffled, the fellow passengers easily made it across, “-Can I have identification?” inquired the guardsman deep onto his record book.

“Will this do?” a noble crest rested on the counter.

“Let me see,” he nonchalantly grabbed, “-let’s see,” it pulled onto his book, “...” the pen fell, “-Master Igna?”

“Correct,” he smiled, “-do I pass the checkpoint?”

“S-sir,” he stood sharply, the chair fell and made a scene, “-I didn’t expect you to be here, sire...”

“No need be flustered,” crest to his neck, “-have a good day.” The other guards bowed; an influential figure was in the presence of commoners. The sentiment soon faded into life’s daily ruckus. Shadows of the present arch gave to the feeble sunny another side. The place wasn’t impressive nor was it to be disregarded either. The construction of buildings was handled by dwarves.

“Here,” hailed the grandson, “-the tavern is over there,” a sharp left led into the merchant part of town. Shabby stalls veiled per a durable fabric was neatly fit the esthetic. Loud and confident merchants hailed the passersby. Many stopped but rare were those who bought, a recession limited the movement of money. Then again, what enabled the construction of cottage-style buildings, sure, the architecture and abundant forests and material dwindled the initial cost, what about men power. In then, curious gave to, “-how are they able to build a village?”

“Pretty self-explanatory. The passage tax is used to pay workers. Materials are transferred easily and at a low cost by the links of the upper wall. Trees are cut towards the west and sent. I heard the faction has plans to open the wall’s route to ease the travel from edge to edge. Sounds good on paper, I’m sure there are a lot of considerations to be taken.”

‘Good answer,’ thought Igna.

“We’re here,” proclaimed the grandson. A one-story high cottage without much in the ways of visual pleasantness. The business was for better or worse, present. Lack of food rose the prices of already cooked meals. The trader’s guild was hard at work with the importation of food from Oxshield. Then again, if money isn’t circulating, the sustenance would but stay in a warehouse and rot.

“Pretty well-off to sit down and eat,” said Igna.

“Never said we were poor,” said granny in jest. My daughter here was scouted by officials in Glenda, she’s to become a worker for your town.”

“You were scouted?” he took another look, “-from what I’ve seen, the skill speaks volumes.”

“I thought the viscount would know his entourage,” a distasteful click of the tongue silenced the already tranquil table.

“I refute thy line of thought,” argued Igna, “-I’ve entrusted the town to my stewardess, and in turn the people she’s trusted and employed have scouted thee. Does the logic not lead to my actions.”

“I didn’t mean my words in malice. Tis but bad memories from when Lucifer came into the capital, I had a gut feeling but was asked to remain quiet. The ways of the noble world, I wish it to be on merit and excellence. Ladies in wait begged, bribed and threatened me to not raise the concern to the queen for she had found love,” said she sarcastically.