Chapter 37 : Of Crowns and Departure

Lord Bruno,  returned to the mansion and opened up all the warehouses and held a large banquet.a paragon of martial virtue, was keenly aware of the architect behind this deliverance. His heart swelled with gratitude for Curtis , the mage whose arcane prowess had turned the tide of fate. With a voice that resonated through the vaulted chambers, he raised his chalice high:​

“To our champion! To Curtis !”

The cry was taken up by the throng, a chorus of acclaim echoing from stone walls:

“To Lord Curtis ! To victory!”

As the master of the house extolled Curtis ‘s deeds, so too did the assembled warriors and kin. Praise cascaded upon him like a river in flood, nearly overwhelming in its fervor.​

“Haha, I am honored by your words,” Curtis replied, his demeanor a blend of humility and grace. Though accustomed to the grandeur of noble courts in his service to Lord Gerbon, he knew well the art of measured speech and modesty. A touch of self-effacement only endeared him further to these stalwart hearts, who now lauded not only his sorcery but his noble bearing.​

Yet, he partook sparingly of the potent brews offered, mindful of the perils that inebriation might invite.

“Should I lose myself to drink and cause some mishap, it would ill serve us all,” he demurred.

His prudence was met with nods of understanding. It was known that wizards of his caliber often eschewed the fog of spirits, lest their formidable powers be loosed without restraint. A drunken brawl might end with bruises; a drunken spell could raze a keep.​

While he declined the mead, Curtis did not abstain from the hearty fare, savoring the rich meats and fresh-baked breads. As the night deepened and the revelers’ tongues grew thick with drink, he took his leave, seeking the solace of his chambers.​

Come dawn, refreshed and clear of mind, Curtis was summoned to Lord Bruno’s private study.​

“Did you find rest, Curtis ? I trust the feast was to your liking,” Bruno inquired, his eyes keen and searching.

“It was most gratifying, my lord. Perhaps a touch less adulation would have eased my comfort, but I am grateful nonetheless.”

Bruno chuckled, a deep rumble like distant thunder.​

“From our first meeting, I’ve noted your humility. You could afford a measure more pride, and none would think ill of it.”

“Such is my nature, I fear. And you, my lord? You partook heartily last eve; does the morning find you well?”

Bruno waved a dismissive hand.​

“A head heavy with wine does not excuse a lord from his duties. One night of revelry suffices; now, we return to the matters at hand.”

He sipped from a goblet of spiced tea, gathering his thoughts before speaking further.​

“Let us speak of our accord. You recall the terms?”

“Indeed, my lord. Ten gold crowns for each engagement, with the promise of additional reward should our endeavors prove fruitful.”

To put this in perspective, twenty silver pieces comprised a single gold crown, a sum sufficient to sustain a family of modest means for a month. The common folk often subsisted on thirty silver pieces monthly, while Curtis ‘s own expenditures during his sojourn in Nizerte had scarcely amounted to three gold crowns. Thus, ten crowns per battle was a princely sum by any measure.​

The mention of such wealth stirred memories of Lady Elisa, who, upon his departure from House Okeanis, had bestowed upon him a hundred gold crowns—a fortune beyond the ken of most. Her generosity had left an indelible mark upon his heart.​

Bruno’s voice drew him back to the present.​

“You stood with us in two engagements, earning twenty crowns by our pact. Yet, truth be told, when we struck this bargain, I envisioned a protracted campaign, not swift resolution. In hindsight, it seems I have gained your service at a bargain.”

Curtis listened intently, sensing the weight of the lord’s words.​

“While the charter allows for amendments post factum, any increase in your fee would see the guild claiming a greater share. And let us not forget, it was the guild that presented both our house and that of Gaud with your esteemed services. Had fate twisted otherwise, you might have been raising your staff in their cause.”

“Such is the impartiality of the guild, my lord. They must serve all without favor.”

“True, though it chafes me to admit it. Thus, I wish to offer you recompense beyond the guild’s reach—a personal token of my esteem.”

“Unmediated by the guild’s hand?”

“Precisely.”

“Your confidence honors me, my lord. I shall keep this matter in confidence.”

Their mutual understanding was sealed with a nod, both men finding common cause in circumventing the guild’s grasp.​

“Excellent. Now, tell me, have you considered making Nizerte your home?”

Bruno’s tone was measured, betraying the gravity of his inquiry.​

“You speak of aligning myself with House Narok?”

“Indeed. I would see you among us, offering the highest station, unfettered support for your arcane pursuits, and, should you desire, the hand of my daughter in marriage.”

“Your daughter, whom I had the pleasure of meeting at the feast?”

“The very same. And not to boast unduly, but she is counted among the fairest in Nizerte.”

“She is indeed comely, my lord.”

Their encounter the previous night had been brief, yet memorable.

Bruno gave a solemn nod, the light in his eyes undimmed by disappointment.

“Ah. I see.”

Curtis studied him for a breath, then arched a brow. “You’re taking this… surprisingly well.”

Bruno’s chuckle was gravel-rough, yet not unkind. “Would you prefer I beg you to stay? Cling to your coattails like some love-struck lordling?”

Curtis offered a wry half-smile. “No. Just—most wouldn’t yield so easily.”

“My heart wishes to hold you here,” Bruno admitted, “but my mind has long accepted that some men were born to walk further roads than others. Your destiny stretches beyond the walls of one city, one house. I asked out of hope, not expectation.”

There was no bitterness in his voice. Only respect.

He turned to his desk, opened a lacquered drawer, and withdrew a sealed envelope—thick, stiff, and heavy with promise. With a reverence almost priestly, he handed it to Curtis.

“This,” he said, “is my personal thanks.”

Curtis broke the seal, eyes widening as he counted ten polished notes, each emblazoned with the crest of the Kalia Consortium. Each one bore the value of a hundred golden crowns. Together, they amounted to a small fortune—more than some minor lords might earn in a lifetime.

Chapter 38 : The magical system

“This is…” Curtis whispered, stunned. “It’s too much.”

“A thousand crowns is steep,” Bruno agreed. “But not when weighed against what you gave us. You didn’t just win a battle, Curtis. You ended a war that had poisoned this city for decades. Take it, and let it stay between us. Not even Sir Terty need know.”

He winked, and despite himself, Curtis chuckled.

He tucked the envelope inside his robe. “Then I’ll accept—with gratitude.”

“And I, with no regret,” said Bruno. “You saved more than my house. You saved my people. Should fate see fit to cross our paths again… I hope we meet as friends, not allies in need.”

There was, of course, more to the gesture than sentiment. Gifting a thousand crowns was not just gratitude—it was investment. But Curtis saw no reason to refuse. Bonds forged in respect were stronger than chains of obligation.

“I’ll drink to that day,” Curtis said, and the two clasped arms, the grip firm as steel between seasoned warriors.

After formally concluding the contract at the Mercenary Guild, Curtis and Terty left the estate of House Narok. Bruno had offered them a room for as long as they wished—Curtis declined, gently but firmly.

Instead, they returned one last time to the familiar walls of the Bron Brothers’ Shelter. There, with the tavern quiet in the pale morning light, Curtis found time to speak with those who’d welcomed him when he had first arrived, anonymous and untested.

“You’re leaving?” Freeman asked, raising a grizzled brow.

“I’ve lingered nearly two months,” Curtis replied. “It’s time.”

“You stayed long for a mercenary,” Freeman mused. “We half wondered if you meant to settle down.”

“Not quite my calling,” Curtis said, though he smiled.

Seiker, leaning against the doorway with arms folded, asked, “Got a heading?”

“North. Toward the East.”

“Abaca, then?”

Curtis nodded. Nizerte, where he now stood, was a southeastern harbor city. Northward lay the East—a vast and rugged land where mountains ruled the horizon and civilization carved footholds in the stone. There, humanity clung like ivy to the cliffs, surviving amidst the howling winds and winding passes.

“You’re not going to sniff out culture, that’s for sure,” Freeman remarked. “Training?”

“That, and rumors of foulspawn. I’ve heard mercenary mages gather there as well.”

Terty snorted. “Careful with those tales. There are more monsters than mages in the East—and far more rumors than truth.”

“I don’t need many,” Curtis said. “Just enough to sharpen my edge.”

“Still, don’t expect to find many like you. Mercenary mages are rare, even where they’re ‘common.’ You’d be lucky to find someone who can hold a torch to you. But if it’s battle you want—well, you’ll find plenty of that.”

Terty’s voice had the weight of experience; he had walked the Eastern paths himself, not long ago. Had he not only recently returned to Nizerte, he might have followed Curtis again.

“Well,” Curtis said, “mercenaries live on the road. Our paths may cross again.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” said Terty, nodding. “And when next we meet, I expect you’ll have grown stronger still. I’ve got to earn that Gold before you leave me behind.”

Curtis chuckled. Trusted comrades were rare—but parting was the mercenary’s way. Always leaving. Always seeking. And always returning, someday, somewhere.

That final day in Nizerte was quiet. Curtis rested, ate, and traded insights with those who knew the local roads and dangers. The Shelter was quieter than usual. It had the feel of a farewell not only in words but in spirit. Even the sea breeze through the shutters seemed to whisper, go on.

At dawn, beneath skies still tinged with starlight, Curtis passed through the city gates.

His cloak fluttered in the breeze. His boots met stone, then dirt, then winding trail.

Beside him, his waterskin sloshed with hidden strength—his spirit, now shaped and sleeping at his side in liquid form.

The road to Abaca stretched ahead, winding through the mist-clad valleys and up into the jagged heights of the East.

Beyond that? He did not know.

But he would walk it.

One step at a time.

And when he met the next flame, he would meet it with water enough to drown the world.

When Curtis  first arrived in Nizerte from the Sun Archipelago, he had done so clinging to the grace of another man’s ship. Thus, this journey—undertaken by his own hands and on his own terms—was, in every sense, his first true voyage alone.

The evening before his departure, he sought counsel from Terity, a seasoned traveler and comrade well-versed in the roads and riddles of the land. Terity, ever generous with his knowledge, was quick to oblige.

“From this last commission alone, you’ve earned twenty gold crowns. You’ve idled for more than a month since, so you should be well-off.”

“There will be no trouble affording the road.”

Even without counting the thousand silver coins he had received as a secret bonus, his purse was heavy enough.

“Do you ride?”

“I’ve learned. Though I wouldn’t call myself a cavalryman.”

“More than enough. Most folks haven’t even sat a saddle. Let’s get you a mount.”

“A horse?”

“Unless you’re destitute, traveling on horseback is always better. Always.”

Terity led him through the crowded market streets as he spoke, his boots crunching against the dust of a well-trodden city.

“You’re a normal man, aren’t you? Physically, I mean—apart from the magic.”

“I suppose so.”

“Took me a month to walk from Abaca to Nizerte, and that’s with my pace.”

“I’ll take the horse.”

“A wise decision.”

Terity, a warrior honed by years on the road, could outwalk most men and still have the strength to wield steel. But a common man? The same journey would stretch into six long weeks, if not more. And without rest, even that might break him.

It was no longer a question of coin, not after the success of the Naroc family’s request. Curtis  was willing to trade gold for comfort—and, more importantly, for time.

“This one looks promising.”

Terity demonstrated the craft of choosing a good steed—how to read the shine of the coat, the strength in the legs, the calm in the eyes.