“Plan is simple. Find the crocodile priest. Kill the crocodile priest. That’s what we’re bein’ paid fer. Savvy?” explained John Timber.
“What about others? Civilians? Militia? What about killin’ them?” questioned Mbaya from the wagon bench.
“They’re all gods-damned Harmonyists. I hope we get to punish every last one of those haughty degenerates,” growled Corvus next to Aritian. The rugged warrior sat hunched over, securing his greataxe to an equipment pack. He wore an old brown cloak that covered his scale-mail armor, and had a bearded face with medium-length dark, prematurely graying hair. With the fair skin and somewhat pointed ears of a half-elf, Corvus gave off the impression of a distressed man with however incredible, unwavering determination.
“Aren’t we going to look out of place in a town full of lizard people? Like, do we need to cover our skin with slime and wear big pointy teeth?” questioned Momo. Momo looked the most out-of-place out of everyone, wearing a colorful traditional tengu outfit with a checkerboard pattern of yellow and red. You might not have even noticed that he was a bird-man unless you looked under the long pointy-nosed white mask he wore covering his beak. The only resemblance of a warrior he had at all was the greatsword sheathed on his backside.
“Hey, you've got nothing to worry about with that huge mask over your face. It definitely screams, ‘I’ve got nothing to hide and totally aren’t doing anything suspicious,’” jested Tai. Tai was cleaning and polishing his deity’s cleric symbol, a small metal-smelted warhammer kept on a chain necklace. He had long neck-length brown hair with a full beard, and wore lamellar leather armor under a chestnut cape. There was a timeless, unaged look about him, with a tan sculpted face that looked strangely, perfectly proportioned.
In the center of the wagon bed, Pan the panther gave a short, moody snarl. Pan had midnight-black fur and bright, cautious yellow eyes that seemed to always be scanning for danger.
“She says… she's more worried that Mbaya will do something reckless,” translated Momo, glancing tentatively to the back of the wagon.
At the rear, sitting motionless like a hawk watching its prey, was Mbaya. The towering man gave off the unmistakable aura of a cold-blooded killer, with his dead-eyed gaze, multiple scars, and quiet demeanor. He had a dark complexion, bald cut, and a lean physique- although swiftness was likely what made Mbaya so deadly, not strength. On his sides were two boarding axes, one of which shined with a golden luster and masterful craftsmanship. There was certainly something about that axe that wasn’t normal.
Driving the wagon and giving the directions of their mission was John Timber. Timber had caramel skin, dark, curly hair, and always wore a large-brimmed hat with a feather on it. Underneath a white frock he had hidden hide armor, along with dual musket pistols and a cutlass at his side. His disposition seemed optimistic, despite the fact that their newly formed group was just starting their first quest.
About a month ago, Aritian responded to one of the particularly high-paying jobs on a quest board he found in the Storm Empire. All it mentioned was one day of adventurer’s work for an unproportionately hefty sum of gold. A week later he met the prospective employer, John Timber, at a tavern nearby to discuss details. Only then did he learn that the quest’s objective was to murder a Harmonyist priest, a lizardfolk named Carnan Frig. Frig had been instrumental as a leader in the violent pro-Harmonyist revolution that had taken place in Garaizan recently. Hundreds had died, including the city’s traditional council, in a militant coup that changed the nation from a democratic republic to a theocratic dictatorship overnight. Not to say that Aritian wasn’t apprehensive about murdering someone, as he’d never done so before- but he’d seen first-hand the disgusting toll that Harmonyism could take on the vulnerable underbelly of society.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Aritian lived the lifestyle of a traveller he’d always dreamed of while growing up- going from place to place, sleeping under the stars, romancing beautiful women, and learning about the various cultures of Yilan. Things weren’t sunshine and rainbows all the time though, and if he found himself on the end of a ludicrously high unpaid bar tab or in the bed of a lord’s daughter, he could count on three things to get him out of trouble- firstly, his background as an Azata-blooded aasimar typically distracted onlookers from whatever predicament he was in with a single glance. Aritian’s heavenly complexion, jewel-like irises, silver tongue, and thick lightly golden hair was enough to make most mortals stop and simply behold his angelic-like appearance. Secondly, Aritian could weave magic from song- a natural with the harp, his bardic spells could compel people to dance, laugh, and more. Thirdly, if it came down to it, Aritian kept with him a shortbow with which he had been practicing archery for some time. He knew he wasn’t the best shot, but it was always good to have it as an option for self-defence.
But while hitchhiking his way through the southern kingdom of Cassia, Aritian had his first encounters with Harmonyism. Burned-out slums, mass graves, and public ritual executions of the homeless, poor, sick, and disabled were the telltale signs. This was because Harmonyists held the core belief that the cleansing of society was necessary under their god, Harmony, and that those sacrificed in the name of their god would go straight to heaven. But Aritian could see past these lies, of course- Harmonyism was just an excuse, a way to remove the unappealing lower class and unwanted of Cassia in a way that wouldn’t hurt the conscience of Cassian nobility. It didn’t matter to Aritian if those sacrificed really were sent to paradise in the afterlife- they were killing innocents by the hundreds, maybe thousands, and doing irreparable damage to countless people’s lives.
So again, he didn’t really mind if the goal of their quest was to kill a Harmonyist leader. It would be revenge for all those slaughtered unjustly in Cassia he had witnessed. But that still left something unsettled about their mission- the motive. Why? Who would want a Harmonyist priest dead? In Aritian’s mind, the answer was simple- while John Timber, their swashbuckling employer was the one giving orders, someone clearly was paying him in turn and supplying him with information. And that someone, or something, was likely the Storm Empire.
The Storm Empire was Cassia’s northern neighbor, and easily the largest nation by far in all of Yilan. It championed many personal freedoms and securities under its wide territory, with subjects free to trade, practice religion, and settle down as they saw fit. Long unified centuries before by a mysterious individual simply known as the Storm Emperor, the Empire was a natural enemy to the theocratic state of Cassia that solely followed the ideas of Harmonyism. And with Garaizan to the east now experiencing a Harmonyist revolution, this spelled trouble for the Empire.
Aritian wasn’t a fool; this quest was actually quite important to the Empire- they needed the city of Garaizan back under their influence for the benefit of its lucrative south-east coastline trade routes. So that begged the question- why would the Imperial strategists send a delegation of ragtag, inexperienced and uncoordinated adventurers to complete a task so paramount as assassinating a national figurehead?
Aritian’s conclusion was that the Empire knew the mission was a ten-to-one chance of failure- and that their party, called Overlord, likely wasn’t even the first party to be sent in. And the way things were looking, they wouldn’t be the last.
