Chapter Five

  The Salted Crab

  The night wind blew harsh against Theo’s face as he moved swiftly across the tile rooftops of Leeside, each foot landing deafly, albeit clumsily with his current possessions. He had taken to the high ground after receiving interested looks from a gang of vagabonds. The ornate box containing his sword was an attractive prospect to some of the city’s poorest. Holding the box tightly under one arm, he struggled to remain perfectly balanced when jumping from rooftop to rooftop until at last he stopped to catch a breath.

  The city streets below were unusually shadowed in silence, causing him to wonder whether the streets had always been this empty before the recent news regarding the Striga played any part in it. If one such monster existed, he thought, this might be the last late-night stroll he’d embark on. Theo glanced over his shoulder worryingly, surveying for any pursuers. He suddenly yearned for the familiar safe environment of a tavern.

  The Salted Crab sat cosily on the docks if Leo back at the Maiden was to be believed. He had been the only person Theo had spoken to before departing the whorehouse. When hearing the news, Leo had offered to speak to Margret; perhaps to convince her to change her mind of kicking Theo out, but Theo refused him. Then the bouncer had even offered Theo a place to stay until he got his affairs in order. His love for Leo deepened in that moment, but he wouldn’t give Margret the satisfaction of knowing he was relying on anyone else but himself. Regardless, Leo allowed him to collect his Imperial Mark from the cellar before departing. With it, Theo knew he needn't fear hunger for at least a month.

  Taking an ambitious leap, the half-elf landed on the adjacent building; tile clicking below his feet on impact. He pulled himself up over the crest of the roof, then laid his box to rest. Theo paused, mesmerised by Leeside in all its nocturnal bueaty. Its many torches and lanterns valiantly held back the darkness, and along its walls Theo could see squadrons of guards patrolling, their torches moving like silent will-o’-wisp in the night.

  A patch of ocean stretched out to his west; its enormity resembling black glass under the moons. To his north, past the encroaching darkness that even his eyes couldn’t penetrate lay Herbline Wood. To the northwest, the Mason Cliffs rose mightily from the earth, their chalk-white rock acting as a natural shield against the relentless foam-whipped lashings from the Delaric Sea.

  Theo would need to reconnect with the ground now that the congested houses were giving way to isolated warehouses. He stopped on the edge of a rooftop, observing the twenty-foot drop of open air that welcomed him below.

  He dropped, landing heavily as a twang of pain rushed through his ankles like stinging needles. He hadn’t climbed like this in years. As a boy, Theo could be often found up a tree or on some tall garden wall. He remembered how easily he could support his own weight back then. Now, his body felt somewhat stiffer and heavier compared to back then.

  Limping for a short while, Theo finally made it to the dockyard pier where rows of docked ships bobbed pleasantly against the ocean tides. The two moons hosted a clouded sky and distantly he could see bold fishing boats bobbing noiselessly on inky waves. A few sailors stumbled past him, each with rosy cheeks and breath tainted with rum.

  Following the warm light that spilled from an open doorway ahead, he came upon a two-story building that sat facing one of the many piers. A sign hung above its doors bearing the cherry image of a crab. Theo hastened to read the hanging signpost, taking great relief when he discovered it was indeed the Salted Crab.

  In less than a day, he would be meeting Pyro here, and hopefully Skinner too. He had already determined what to purchase from the city markets before this encounter

  “What can I do for you, young master?” Croaked the old woman behind the bar. She looked to him like the oldest woman he had ever met. Her skin was riddled with deep wrinkles, while her lips moved across toothless gums.

  Theo looked about the tavern wearily, noticing only a handful of sailors among the many dimly lit tables. “A room if you have any, and hot food too.”

  “I have both if the young Master has the chips, that is.” The woman said beaming a broad red smile.

  Theo placed the only money he had on the bar with a soft click. A single Mark shone brightly despite the tavern’s dimness. The woman grinned hungrily, then placed the tip of the coin in her mouth. Regardless of not having any teeth to speak of, she leered when the coin touched her gums.

  “Nothing beats the taste of gold.” She croaked. “This way master, I’ll show you to your room. We don’t often get visitors from the Empire.”

  “I’m not from the Empire” Theo snapped. People from the Empire were often held in low regard among Leeside’s lower class, to become associated with such folk might grant him weary suspicions from the proprietor. He lowered his hood, hoping to reveal as much with his elven ears. Elves were seldom seen within the Empire, usually confiding themselves to their own cultures and cities like Silva. The woman eyed him through narrow slits.

  “Ah, I beg your pardon. I meant no offense.” she said earnestly.

  She led him upstairs slowly, groaning at the pain in her joints, then down a narrow hallway that broke off in opposite directions. Crude paintings of ships lined the corridors, alongside plaques accounting for the vessel names.

  “I’ll put you on the end here, Mr…”

  “Redwood.” He answered, feeling a queer sort of pride in the name as if for the first time he was not just an extension of the Red Maiden.

  “Redwood.” She repeated curiously. “Very well, in here.”

  She opened a locked door which groaned as audibly as old woman herself when it moved. She stepped aside, giving way to Theo who entered. It was a small room, smaller than his one in the Red Maiden but pleasantly free from Margret’s taint.

  “If you’re hungry, Master, I can have one of my daughters warm you up some broth. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll have the food brought to the room personally.”

  “I think I’ll eat downstairs.” Theo declared. He wanted to familiarise himselfwith the place and its people as much as possible before tomorrow.

  “Very well,” she said after a brief pause, then reached into a deep pocket to hand him his key.

  After she had left, Theo sat on his bed and examined his first ever private room. The bed gave heavily under his weight, its mattress nothing more than a burlap sack full of hay in a wooden frame. He took his ornate box and stuffed it under the sheet. Overwhelming satisfaction and fear washed throughout his body at the prospect of spending a night alone here. Every moment felt uncomfortable, yet at the same time, thrilling. When he gathered himself, he left his room and locked it, taking pleasure as it clicked.

  Downstairs, he was pleased to find the tavern floor still mostly empty. Theo occupied one of the suitably dark corners before a girl; skinny as a broom, noticed his descent. She introduced herself to be one of the proprietor’s daughters and to Theo looked no older than fourteen. She served Theo a steaming bowl of broth without so much as a word, accompanying it with some beer, water, and a sizable handful of chips. These chips were growing to be numerous and troublesome to carry; he would need to invest in a money pouch he decided.

  The broth grew sickly the more he ate, with its generous amount of tallow mixed in. Chunks of what Theo hoped wasn’t rat meat floated in its depths.While he was eating, his sharp ears pulled his attention to the front doors as a band of sailors marched in, their faces red in fury. They tossed their laden coats on vacant stools before sitting at a neighbouring table. There was five of them, some old, others young; all human, and all wearing their own necklaces of the ten-pointed Aquastar.

  “Five pints of your strongest beer, and some hot food if it pleases you, my dear” one of the older one bellowed to the young girl, who promptly hurried away at the command. They didn’t seem to notice Theo, who instinctively shrunk away to avoid detection. He’d rather not make himself known to anyone unless absolutely necessary.

  “How can a town fall so swiftly?” One of the sailor’s boomed across the room. His voice was matched only by his gut, which hung heavily over a strained leather belt.

  “The West is filled with many strange happenings,” said another, much leaner man. “I never understood why some folk would live so close to those mountains.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Well, looks like we're stranded here for a time.” said a third, mousey-looking sailor.

  There was a ring of faces wrinkled into scowls and frowns as the men considered this fact.

  “My sister told me that the Empire has already dispatched an army from the capital to deal with it.”

  Theo watched in hidden interest, his trained ears straining to pick up the lowered voices as the five men suddenly pooled their heads together.

  “Led by none other than a Crestriver.” one whispered, followed by a round of gasps as the sailors leaned backward in their seats before regrouping.

  “Crestriver? Where have I heard that name before?” There was an open palm slap on leather from the supposed silly question.

  “You dope, the Crestriver's are notable people over in the Empire—they led the slave revolt for goodness sake!”

  Theo could hear the five sailors moving old mugs from their space as they got comfy.

  “Which Crestriver is leading this army?” probed the leaner sailor.

  “Saurus. Not only that, but his son Alaric Crestriver rides with him.” A round of huffs and hisses spread throughout the bickering party as the girl returned with a platter of mugs. None of the sailors spoke while the girl was in ear shot but when she left, the conversation resumed in hushed voices.

  “I heard Alaric is a Magus, one of the best the Empire has.”

  “That he is, which means that this must be no small matter. Dockhands have said that barrels of Sphene Dust from Mandolin are being stored here in Leeside, in preparation for the army’s arrival. Whatever, or whomever, was responsible for the destruction of Wetbrook isn’t being taken lightly.”

  “But what could have destroyed a whole town?” snarled the fat sailor after a mouthful of beer.

  “I heard it was goblins.” claimed a voice.

  “Goblins riding giant spiders perhaps. I heard strange tales from crewman sailing close to the White Gull Harbour at the cliffs. They claim they saw spiders the size of horses spilling down from the plains.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “It’s true,” confirmed another, “They say there’s hundreds, thousands of them.”

  Mixed reactions ensued as some of the sailors scoffed at such ideas while others sat silently in thought. When the girl returned with a serving board burdened with broth, the quarrelling died down.

  “Thank you, my dear.” Theo heard as half a dozen chips spill out across the wood.

  The sailors chewed, slurped, and gulped without chatter for a brief spell. As the five men feasted, Theo waited, letting his own broth run cold. He was unfamiliar with this town called ‘Wetbrook’ but any news involving the Empire, or furthermore: Giant Spiders, grabbed his interest.

  “So, these Magi then. How many are in the Empire these days?”

  When none of the other men answered, it was the oldest, and most delicate voice that finally spoke up. “Very few. Some believe them to be dying out.”

  The old man’s voice was low, causing Theo to stress to catch his words.

  “Magi have been around long before the Empire ever existed, back when they were simply a republic. In those times they belonged to a Magi Covenant which resided in the tower of Midgal, off what is now the Luposian coast. The tower once held vast amounts of knowledge far beyond what any of us could hope to know. From their understanding of the world and seemingly infinite knowledge, the Magi became very powerful. That is until they began practicing blood magic and attracted the wrath of men. It is said towards the end, they could summon demons from the Ashen lands to sate their every desire.”

  A spoon fell into an empty bowl before a fist washed it aside. The heavy sailor had finished his broth first it seemed, while the rest of the sailors seemed to hold no interest in their food anymore.

  “Blood magic and demons? Have you gone senile, old man?” disputed the heavy sailor.

  “Eat a rotted fish, Bert. Joseph knows more history than most scholars,” argued the leaner man.

  “That’s because he’s lived through most of it,” Bert retorted.

  “The Magi prefer to keep their dark past quiet,” continued Joseph, “It was at the tower of Midgal that the Magi made their last stand. The great battle that took place there would decide which power would remain, either the Luposian Republic or the Magi Covenant, as none could exist with the other.”

  “Wait!” cried a sailor. “I’ve heard of this battle…but I was told the Republic and Magi fought together?”

  “Some of them did,” stated Joseph, “and after the tower was thoroughly destroyed, all the surviving Magi decided to serve the Empire. Any Magus alive today is a direct descendant of all the Magi that fought alongside the Republic. This handful of Magi fought against their own, seeing their covenant for what they were becoming, especially after people were taken from the Midgal’s surrounding villages--children too--only to be wickedly experimented on and returned as monsters. Some men lost their minds simply by gazing upon the tower at the height of its power. It plagued the gentlefolk that inhabited the land around it, until of course the people pleaded to the senate for its eradication, claiming it to be a threat to the very existence of man, and foretold of the abominations it produced.”

  “Is it true the covenant knew magics of the flesh and with it amassed a huge army of undead to fight the Republic?” asked a voice excitedly.

  “That too…is sadly correct,” agreed Joseph, “but the battle was won in the end, and the Magi that helped were given leniency within the Republic. Many joined their blood with prominent houses, one such being the Crestriver family, and before a generation had past, the Santerian household transformed the Republic into the Empire it is today.”

  Theo leaned back, digesting the story like his half-eaten broth. All this talk of Magi and their bloodline being traced back to a sinister Covenant worried him. Was he not aware of a Magus currently attending the Red Maiden? Wasn’t that same Magus at odds with the Empire in some way?

  “You said they summoned demons?” asked a voice, pulling Theo from his thoughts.

  “Demons from Ashen, yes.” confirmed the seasoned sailor.

  “How did they control them?”

  “As I said, with old blood magic. Ancient scrolls and demon stones were found in the Midgal tower.”

  “And how do you kill a demon?”

  The seasoned sailor hummed in deep thought.

  “To kill a monster, you must send a monster. Or possess a sword of light.”

  “What’s a sword of—”

  They were cut off by the proprietor’s voice; so loud it caused Theo to temporarily jump.

  “Closing up young masters! Only ill customers to be had at this time. If you’re not staying the night under my roof, I’ll be happy to let you out the back when your thirst is sated.” she went on, moving from window to window to close them. Her daughters mimicked her, as the shy girl that served them lifted stools onto tables.

  When it was safe to do so, Theo snuck back upstairs to his room, avoiding the detection of the five sailors. He thought about all that they had said, pondering just how small Leeside was in comparison to the rest of the world. That night in the blackness of his room, he dreamt of demons and monsters. Unknowingly, while he slept, he clutched at his ornate box tightly.

  *

  The next morning, Theo broke his fast on dried figs, crispy bacon, and a couple of fried eggs. The proprietor of the Salted Crab was generous in her portions--asking for only a couple of chips in return--and even extended his stay for another night. When he was finished; wiping the dried egg from his chin, he took off into the city with all his possessions.

  Ships were being loaded with cargo as Theo moved through the river of people. The dockyard seemed to Theo like the most vibrant part of the city, as if the docks were a beating heart that fed life into the rest of the city. Merchants peddled their wares straight off the ships, selling everything from fresh clams to exotic wares abroad. A bell tolled as some of the ships made into port. The volume of sound and movement made Theo’s head spin.

  All the foreign people fascinated Theo, especially those that arrived from Iradrin, beyond the Delaric Sea. Great towering men with copper skin and a love for bronze sold exotic wares from their impressive ships. It was known that Iradrinites worshiped the sun as their god, and their love for bronze was only surpassed by their love for gold.

  Theo saw one Iradrinite house a lime-green scorpion in his hat; watched as the scorpion moved when commanded by its handler. One Iradrin ship was even burdened with caged animals from their homeland. Great beasts the same size as the carts they pulled lumbered mightily along, each trained obediently to obey to the crack of whips. Within the carts they pulled, Theo saw what looked like a lion, except its head was as large as an ox and it bore fangs the length of a man’s forearm.

  On the way to Greenside, where all the markets could be found, Theo picked up a newspaper for a single chip and read about the disturbance in the West. Just like the sailors claimed, the town of Wetbrook that sat to the North-West, past the Mason Cliffs, had fallen to some ill fate. The lack of information regarding the attack was by far the most pressing concern. The mpire vouched to reclaim the town and smite the evil that was responsible. Following this, the city’s fear was renewed with the news of Wetbrook, causing many people to wonder just when they’d feel safe again.

  Arriving in the main market, Theo walked around until he found what he was looking for and eventually acquired a used leather belt and a sword frog to hold his new blade. It didn't take him too long to find a set of leather armour--just covering the chest, forearms, and shins--which he bought for twelve chips after haggling with the seller. Theo had purchased the leathers thinking the extra protection would be wise given the lifestyle he would seemingly be embarking upon. By mid-afternoon, he was back at the Salted Crab.

  He feasted on fish stew for lunch and helped himself to a fresh beer. In less than a day, Theo had spent close to a quarter of his Imperial Mark and would have to be more frugal here-on-out. All that was left now was to wait for Pyro. The Salted Crab, or simply ‘The Crab’ as many of the patrons got to calling it, was somewhat busy during the day with many of the dockhands coming in to eat lunch and catch an ale on their break. Theo found The Crab to be a great place for picking up gossip, as many of the sailors and laborers often arrived from eastern cities or the capital. They spoke in the Luposian dialect, which hard pronounced every ‘C’ to sound like a ‘K’. Some of this dialect had already leaked into Leeside and Theo’s own pattern of speech. For example, the name of Mirella’s son, Micah, was pronounced in true Luposian fashion.

  Further into the evening, he overheard a Iradrinite talk about a certain creature from his homeland that never ate but rejuvenated its strength from the sun. Apparently, this creature could tuck itself up into a ball and use its crystallised shell to roll across deserts with ease. When these creatures were cut, nothing but sand ran from their wounds, and its heart was a yellow sapphire causing many of them to be poached respectively.

  When Theo had absorbed enough talk, he retreated to his room where he inspected his sword privately. He cut the air with it, pleasantly hearing how it hissed and whistled. It was lean, like him, made for quick slashing cuts; an elven weapon for a half-elf.

  After he grew more accustomed to its feel and his arm ached from many strikes, a knock sounded on his door. Theo stood there awaiting a voice that never came.

  When the knock sounded once more, this time heavier, Theo called out, "Who disturbs me?"

  “Open the door whore-son,” came the unmistakable voice of Pyro, “Skinner would like a word.”