As he spoke, his thoughts drifted back to his encounter with Nalia, the mysterious woman in green who had graced this very plaza two days prior. She had been nothing but a vexation since.
With a solemn prayer, Tristan gently returned the fallen knight's head to its resting place in the earth. Rising to his feet, he surveyed his surroundings: the plaza, now crowned by the four majestic statues he had coveted since his arrival.
His reverie was shattered by a sudden yelp. Whirling around, he saw a woman clad in leather armor and chainmail, her hand clapped over her mouth in horror. A goblin had scrambled atop a pile of rubble and lunged at her with a dagger. Fortunately, a man in his late twenties intervened just in time, dispatching the creature with a single, fluid slash of his sword.
"I told you there was no need for you to come, Jasmine," Tristan said, striding over to the woman, his sword securely sheathed at his belt. "You're exposing yourself to unnecessary risks."
Still rattled by the recent encounter, Jasmine took a moment to compose herself before responding. "Call it stubbornness, Your Grace," she said with a wistful smile, casting her gaze over the crumbled buildings and ashen streets. "This once-beautiful city deserved at least a witness to its fate."
"Not much left to witness," Tristan replied, his laugh tinged with a note of despair. He surveyed the devastation before turning back to the young merchant. "Jasmine, your efforts haven't gone unnoticed. I deeply appreciate your initiative."
Hearing his words, Jasmine bowed graciously. "Thank you, Your Grace. It's an honor to assist in any way I can, especially in times like these."
Tristan nodded, his eyes taking in the scene around him. He had brought two squadrons from the city's interior for this mission. Any more, and the inner wall protecting the remaining citizens might be left vulnerable.
Glancing to his left, he noticed General Henry leading the Iron Vanguard with calculated efficiency. They were clearing the adjacent street of monstrous threats, spear and lance at the ready. Whenever they sighted a goblin or one of the mutated felines, the soldiers encircled the creature, dispatching it with coordinated thrusts. For those beasts crafty enough to take refuge in the narrow alleys or beneath rubble, the knights unsheathed their swords and delivered swift justice.
Just as Tristan was about to shift his attention elsewhere, his best friend Oswald approached. "We're nearly finished on this side," Oswald gestured toward his own squadron, led by the elderly Robert. Despite his age, Robert radiated a vitality that seemed to outshine even the youngest among them—and that was without invoking any special skills.
"It seems our initial assumptions were correct," Oswald mused, his expression thoughtful. "The number of monsters has significantly diminished. These streets should have been teeming with hundreds of them; we've encountered merely a couple dozen."
"That's a hopeful sign," Tristan said, allowing a rare smile to cross his features. "It should ease the burden on the guards manning the inner wall. The past two days have been hellish."
"You haven't been getting much sleep, have you?" Oswald noted, his tone tinged with disapproval. "I told you to rest. A weary commander is of little use to his troops."
"You're one to talk," Tristan retorted, clicking his tongue in mock annoyance. "If I could find sleep while the world around me is ablaze, I'd question my own sanity."
At Tristan's words, Oswald chuckled. For a moment, both men stood in companionable silence, watching their forces complete the task of securing the plaza. After several moments of quiet reflection, Tristan finally spoke, breaking the silence.
"If the monster population is indeed decreasing, that's promising," Tristan said, pausing to consider the implications. "We might even stand a chance of reclaiming the outer city."
"With these magnificent statues, that hope becomes all the more tangible," Oswald replied, gesturing toward the towering figures that encircled them. "Shall we inspect them? I've been looking forward to it."
Tristan followed Oswald's gaze, his eyes widening in awe at the sight of the statues. "Indeed, we've waited long enough."
Without another word, they moved toward the statue that resonated with both of them—the warrior. Its imposing form emanated an aura of pride and virility, a magnet for any knight.
As Tristan reached out to touch the statue, a notification materialized before him, arresting his attention. Warrior Statue 5/200 Would you like to choose the Warrior class?
So, Robert saw this as well? Tristan pondered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. And five out of two hundred? Does that imply there are three others—besides Robert and Little Roo—who have claimed this class?
His thoughts briefly stalled as he recalled a face he'd rather forget: Nalia. The reports suggested her forces numbered in the thousands. Does that mean most of them are now dead? But even so, how could nearly two thousand people claim a class when the cap for each is set at two hundred? That does not make a lick of sense.
The enigma before him defied easy explanation, but Tristan pushed it to the back of his mind. Such ponderings could wait; the immediate choice was what mattered.
"Yes, I choose the Warrior class," Tristan declared, his voice unwavering. Choose one of these starting abilities Abilities Power Strike Imbue your weapon with magical power and strike the enemy with an attack that deals additional damage. Charge Allows the warrior to quickly close the distance to their target, potentially stunning or knocking them down with a small shockwave Taunting Shout Provokes enemies to focus their attacks on the warrior, protecting more vulnerable party members. Weapon Proficiency (Passive) Allows the warrior to use various types of melee weapons effectively, such as swords, axes, and maces. Shield Proficiency (Passive) Grants the ability to use shields for added defense, helping to block or deflect incoming attacks.
Surveying the array of skills displayed before him, Tristan felt the allure of each one. Every skill offered unique advantages, each tailored to fulfill a distinct role within a team.
After a moment of contemplation, he made his choice. "I choose Charge," he announced, his voice resolute. Congratulations, you have become a warrior. You can check your information by simply saying or thinking “Display Panel”
As he read through the notification, Tristan muttered outloud the last two words, “Display Panel”.
Ding Class Warrior Level 0/20 (exp: 0/10) Lifespan 60 years Stats Strength 12 Agility 10 Constitution 10 Mana 5 Free Points 0 Skills Charge (Active)
As Tristan gazed at the floating text before him, he was rendered speechless. His eyes locked onto the ethereal words, his heartbeat pounding like war drums in his chest. Not even his first encounter with the grotesque goblins could match the profound wonder he felt now. It was as if he had caught a fleeting glimpse of another world.
"Tristan? Hey, snap out of it." Oswald's voice pulled him back to reality. Glancing sideways, he noticed Oswald motioning for him to turn around. Their two squadrons had completed their tasks and now awaited further instructions.
"Your Grace, couldn't you have waited just a bit longer?" General Henry approached, his voice rich with hearty laughter. "We, too, are keen to discover the hidden wonders of these celestial statues."
"My apologies, Sir Henry. I suppose I was a bit overeager," Tristan said, chuckling as he scratched his head. He then turned to address his assembled knights. "I know you're all eager to acquire these magical abilities, but we must proceed in an organized and deliberate manner. Each squadron will divide its members equally among the four statues. As for the skills you choose, I'll leave that to your personal discretion."
With those directives, the knights huddled together to discuss the allocation of classes. The most robust and seasoned among them were granted the right to choose the Warrior class, while the others distributed themselves among the remaining three.
While his knights deliberated, Tristan walked over to Jasmine, who led the merchant association. "You and your mercenaries are also free to select classes," he announced warmly. "How you distribute them is your choice."
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Caught off guard by this unexpected honor, Jasmine promptly bowed. "Thank you, Your Grace. Your generosity won't be forgotten."
Wasting no time, as if fearful Tristan might rescind his offer, Jasmine hastily conferred with her mercenaries. She then approached the statues, scrutinizing each one carefully. After gathering all the information she could, she chose the Magus class for herself. Most of her mercenaries became Assassins, with a few selecting the Warrior class, two opting for Magus, and one for Priest.
This distribution makes sense; a mercenary’s job isn’t typically on the front lines, Tristan thought, nodding to himself before rejoining his friend.
"We've finally acquired the abilities that Sir Robert has," Oswald mused. "Watching him single-handedly vanquish hordes of goblins and other monstrosities was beyond anything I could've imagined."
Tristan nodded, taking in his friend's observation. "Indeed. It's almost miraculous how these magical abilities have rejuvenated a man in the twilight of his life."
Tristan's voice trailed off, his gaze shifting toward the inner city. His expression was a tapestry of mixed emotions.
"You're thinking about your younger brother, aren't you?" Oswald surmised.
Tristan nodded slowly. "If magical powers can imbue a man of advanced age with such vitality, then perhaps they could help James overcome his frailty."
"It's a prospect worth considering for the young prince," Oswald agreed. "But first, we'll need to secure safe passage from the inner city to this location. If the monsters continue their relative inactivity, we might be able to stabilize the area in a matter of days."
"That would indeed be ideal," Tristan said, letting out a subdued sigh before smiling.
As their conversation wound down, Tristan's eyes roamed the plaza. Eventually, they settled on a grand stone building situated at the far end, beyond the towering statues. Adorned with intricate decorations, its entrance was imposing. Initially, Tristan had paid it little mind, as the statues were of paramount importance. But now, having completed the task of class selection, his curiosity was piqued by this enigmatic structure.
"Should we venture inside?" Oswald suggested, catching Tristan's focused gaze on the mysterious building. "We're already here. We may as well discover what's left to be discovered."
"You read my mind," Tristan replied with a chuckle.
The two friends promptly entered the imposing structure. Inside, they found a single, unadorned room in stark contrast to the elaborate exterior. A large bulletin board covered one wall, adorned with a myriad of parchments. At the far end of the room sat an elderly man with a white beard, who glanced up at the newcomers before returning to his reading with a dismissive scoff.
Undeterred by the man's aloof demeanor, Tristan approached him. "Excuse me, sir, may I ask you some questions? What is the nature of this place?"
"You ask for permission to ask questions but proceed without waiting for an answer?" The old man scoffed again. "No matter. This is simply a hall without a master to claim it."
Although momentarily taken aback by the man's curt response, Tristan was intrigued by his subsequent words. "A hall without an owner? Is it possible to claim it?"
The elderly man took a moment to appraise Tristan before responding. "Yes, but not at present."
Puzzled by the man's terse answer, Tristan exchanged a quick shrug with Oswald. Intrigued by the large bulletin board, Oswald turned his attention back to the old man. "Sir, could you enlighten us about the purpose of that board?"
"Quests you can undertake are posted there," the man replied, not lifting his eyes from the document he was perusing.
Though still succinct, the old man's answer offered a new avenue for exploration. The two friends approached the board and each selected a parchment to examine. Slay 10 Monsters Description Eliminate ten of the wandering monsters in the area to receive rewards for your efforts. Quest Objectives Eliminate 10 monsters Rewards 100 Arcane Coins
100 Experience Points
As Tristan examined the quest details, he quickly grasped the basic concept. However, one aspect still eluded him. Turning back to the old man, he inquired, "Sir, could you elaborate on these arcane coins? What purpose do they serve?"
The old man's voice tinged with exasperation, he explained, "They're coins; you use them to purchase things. Skills, food, and even goods from others. Buy whatever you need."
"Skills? And food?" Tristan's eyebrow arched in surprise. "How can we buy food with these coins?"
Setting aside his paper, the old man sighed deeply and regarded Tristan with evident annoyance. "You buy food at the shop. But you can't right now; the fortress is still locked."
Instead of clarifying things, the old man's explanations only generated more questions in Tristan's mind. "So, how do we go about unlocking this fortress?"
Without uttering a word, the old man gestured toward a particular quest posted on the bulletin board. As Tristan stepped closer to read the parchment, his heartbeat quickened in palpable anticipation. Since the moment he had stepped foot inside this stone building, he had realized he was on the cusp of a transformative era—yet he wasn't merely a passive observer. He was shaping history with his own hands.
While Tristan meticulously read through the quest details, absorbed in every word, his friend Oswald's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"How do we accept these quests?" Oswald inquired, turning to the old man. "I don't see a place to sign."
"Bring it here," the old man replied curtly. Oswald complied.
Meanwhile, Tristan continued to study the quest in his hand. Four guardians coming from all directions? Just how powerful could these creatures be? We need to prepare for battle immediately, he thought. Lost in contemplation, Tristan mechanically went through the process of accepting the quests, starting with the perilous Four Guardian mission before moving on to the daily tasks.
As he completed the paperwork, Oswald nudged him back to reality. "Something's happening outside."
Exiting the building, they were met with an unexpected sight: a new faction had arrived. A squadron of twenty knights stood at attention, commanded by a lord in his mid-fifties and a younger, unremarkable man who rode slightly behind him. The lord, sporting a sharp beard, was clad in full-plated armor and carried a lance at his side. His younger companion, in contrast, wore a simple light-brown, long-sleeved shirt and was clean-shaven, his features hardly noteworthy.
Tristan's brow lifted at the newcomers, but it was Oswald's expression that held the most surprise. "Father...?" he whispered.
"Oswald," the older lord dismounted hastily, his eyes searching his son's face with palpable concern. "You had me deeply worried." Turning to Tristan, he bowed with a hint of formality. "Your Grace, I am heartened to see you well. Hearing of your journey alongside my son through the monstrous hordes in this besieged city, I could not stay away."
General Henry gave a sarcastic cough, not bothering to hide his skepticism. It was obvious that, had Lord Johanness truly felt this way, he wouldn't have remained ensconced in his manor for the past two days.
However, Tristan, bound by decorum and respect for his friend's family, chose to respond with veiled civility. "Lord Johanness, your timely presence is most welcome. As the adage goes, 'a stitch in time saves nine,' and yet here we are." He allowed a brief pause, letting the weight of his words hang thickly in the air before lightening the mood. "Nonetheless, I appreciate your journey here. Unity is indeed our most potent asset during these testing times, wouldn’t you agree?"
Caught off guard, Johanness took a moment to recover before answering with a newfound vigor. "Of course, Your Grace. It is in these defining moments that we must step forward."
“I’m glad you share my thoughts,” Tristan approached the head of the Strongheart family, intent on emphasizing the contributions of the others. "General Henry has dedicated many years to our city's service. Even now, he leads his Iron Vanguard, rescuing our citizens and defending our inner walls."
General Henry chuckled warmly. "These old bones may ache, but they've never ignored the call of duty."
"It's heartening to see you so well, General," Lord Johanness said, "A lion may age, but his fangs remain as sharp as ever."
"Your kind words honor me, Lord Johanness," the general replied, bowing slightly with well-practiced grace.
"And let's not forget Oswald," Tristan interjected, "who has been indefatigable in his efforts. He is, without a doubt, the pride of the Strongheart family."
Johanness's expression grew complex as he looked at his son. After a moment's contemplation, he bowed his head lightly. "Your praise is most generous, Your Grace."
"There's no need for such formality among friends," Tristan said, extending a warm handshake toward Johanness. "I've admired you since my youth, Lord Strongheart. You have honored both your family and this city throughout your life."
Taken aback by the flood of compliments, Johanness could only muster a simple, "Thank you."
"Not to let the praise go unshared," Tristan chuckled, steering Johanness's attention to a woman clad in leather armor. "May I introduce Jasmine, the head of the Merchant Alliance? Her contributions have been invaluable—providing both our army and the civilian populace with much-needed food and clothing, purely out of the kindness of her heart."
Johanness's eyebrows lifted with keen interest. "Remarkable. To lead the Merchant Alliance at such a young age, and still extend such generosity. I am genuinely impressed." He turned back to Tristan, adding, "To see a young prince surrounded by such remarkable individuals harkens back to the days when we stood beside your father against the western barbarians."
"My father often regaled me with tales of those times," Tristan smiled, directing the conversation back to Jasmine. "In the past two days, it's become abundantly clear that without Lady Jasmine, the city walls might have crumbled and Locksley would have been lost. An army, after all, marches on its stomach."
Pausing to let his words sink in, Tristan looked earnestly at Lord Johanness. "In light of her heroic efforts and commitment to our cause, I intend to use my authority as the first prince to recommend Jasmine for a seat on the council. Would you stand with me in this, Lord Johanness?"
Caught off guard by the proposal, Johanness hesitated. Sensing the eyes of everyone upon him, he let out a deep sigh before nodding his agreement. "If it is your wish, Your Grace, then I will certainly support you."
"I knew I could count on you," Tristan declared, shaking Johanness's hand vigorously as he laughed.
"It's the least I can do," Johanness returned the smile. His gaze then swept across the enormous statues surrounding them. "Your Grace, rumors of these divine statues have reached even me. When might you acquaint us with their wonders?"
Following Johanness's gaze, Tristan chuckled. "Why not right now? These are divine constructs, gifts from the gods themselves. While we may need to establish some regulations, these blessings should not be hoarded by a single individual."
"Your wisdom continues to humble me, Your Grace," Johanness said, smiling graciously. "Shall we proceed, then?"
"Certainly," Tristan gestured, allowing Lord Johanness and his men to approach the statues and choose their classes. After brief deliberations among themselves, they dispersed, each selecting one of the four imposing statues.
"I apologize for my father's behavior," Oswald approached Tristan hesitantly. "It's disheartening to see him only step forward when it's convenient for him."
"There's no need to apologize," Tristan exhaled, releasing a tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. "Besides, I managed to secure his support for Jasmine's council seat, so it wasn't a total loss."
"I'm impressed," Oswald laughed. "I never thought you had such diplomatic finesse."
"It comes with the territory of being the first prince," Tristan replied, sharing in the laughter.
As the minutes ticked by, Lord Johanness's men busied themselves selecting their classes from the towering statues. But Tristan's attention shifted to the slender man who had accompanied Lord Johanness earlier. Unlike the others, he seemed in no hurry to make a choice, lingering on the sidelines.
Why does he seem familiar? Tristan pondered. I can't quite place where I've seen him before.
Despite his focused contemplation, Tristan couldn't pinpoint where he'd previously encountered the mysterious man. Soon enough, Lord Johanness completed his activities in the plaza and headed back into the city.
Even as the squadron rode off, Tristan found his gaze lingering on the slender figure, an inexplicable sense of unease gnawing at him.