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Authors: Nikolas Rex
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of the Talisman, Protector of the Broken
Crown, Vanquisher, Preserver… the Relic Hunters of Relic Hunters!”
The large wagon and company approached.
Marc was very confused, but watched anyway as a large
carriage passed them. It was shiny and extravagant, pulled by armored balkars
with dark purple-mahogany hides and faded light-pink underbellies. The outer
frame of the carriage was painted a dark green with royal purple colored wheels
lined with gold. Green, purple, and gold banners, identical to the one on the
rider’s back who had ridden before, were attached to the top of the carriage
and flapped boldly against the wind.
“Lanvar himself must be inside!” Zildjin said eagerly.
Sesuadra nodded in agreement but let his enthusiasm show
only in his eyes.
The wagon windows were open as it passed and they could just
peer in.
They caught a glimpse of someone inside, a healthy looking
man with black hair and black stubble on his chin. The man looked back at them
as he passed.
“It is him!” Zildjin said excitedly, “Did you see him?”
The others nodded.
The carriage rode on for a bit, before the man inside
ordered a stop.
The doors to the coach opened and Lanvar leaned out. One of
the riders came up with an empty saddled two-legged creature.
Lanvar mounted the creature and with two of the other
riders, rode back to Soren’s wagon.
“All is well?” Lanvar asked in greeting. He was dressed in
fine black and gold vestments. He was tall and muscular. His neatly trimmed
curly hair almost covered his dark pupils.
“All is well,” Soren replied.
“You are a trader, are you not?”
“Indeed,” Soren replied.
“Are any of your wares for sale?”
“I have some required items to deliver but I have some to
sell, yes.”
“Do you, perchance, have some churta? The gelus are colder
and colder each cycle and it seems to make this particular fruit very difficult
to find, and I do so love the taste of it. I would buy a crate of your finest
churta if you have any.”
“We have two if you want!” Zildjin blurted out.
Lanvar cracked a smile, and then let out a short laugh.
“Do you like magic?” he asked Zildjin.
“Yes, of course, sir. I cheered for you in your last
competition,” Zildjin offered eagerly.
Lanvar nodded with a small grin, then turned to Soren, “I
would purchase both crates of your churta, then.”
Soren and Lanvar bartered for a moment on the price.
“The deal is done,” Soren stated after they agreed on a
price, “Zildjin, jump down and fasten the crates to their steeds.”
Lanvar motioned for one of his servants to hand over a bag
of coins. Soren took it.
Zildjin sat motionless for a moment, looking at Lanvar, not
really realizing that Soren had spoken to him.
“Boy?” Soren prodded.
“Me? Oh, yes, of course, right away.”
Sesuadra was already in the back lifting one crate which he
passed to Marc. Zildjin jumped down from the wagon. The crates held small
crimson colored fruits. Marc carefully handed off the crate to Zildjin. They
repeated the actions and soon a second crate was loaded into Zildjin’s arms. He
quickly walked over to Lanvar’s steed.
“Secure them here,” Lanvar instructed.
Zildjin nodded and carefully placed the crates on the two
legged creatures back, behind Lanvar. He then deftly roped the crates into
place with a few tight knots.
“Very well done. Continue to cheer for me,” He said,
directing his attention to Zildjin, “your dedication is appreciated. Here is a
small token for your enthusiasm.” He reached into a bag tied to the side of the
saddle atop his animal. As he searched he spoke, “Remember, the magic of old is
not lost, as relic hunters we are bringing it back, piece by piece.”
Finally he pulled out something that looked like a silver
medallion, and then handed it to Zildjin.
“Take good care of it, there is something special about it.”
“Thank you sir,” Was all the young man could say.
The three riders turned and
Crown, Vanquisher, Preserver… the Relic Hunters of Relic Hunters!”
The large wagon and company approached.
Marc was very confused, but watched anyway as a large
carriage passed them. It was shiny and extravagant, pulled by armored balkars
with dark purple-mahogany hides and faded light-pink underbellies. The outer
frame of the carriage was painted a dark green with royal purple colored wheels
lined with gold. Green, purple, and gold banners, identical to the one on the
rider’s back who had ridden before, were attached to the top of the carriage
and flapped boldly against the wind.
“Lanvar himself must be inside!” Zildjin said eagerly.
Sesuadra nodded in agreement but let his enthusiasm show
only in his eyes.
The wagon windows were open as it passed and they could just
peer in.
They caught a glimpse of someone inside, a healthy looking
man with black hair and black stubble on his chin. The man looked back at them
as he passed.
“It is him!” Zildjin said excitedly, “Did you see him?”
The others nodded.
The carriage rode on for a bit, before the man inside
ordered a stop.
The doors to the coach opened and Lanvar leaned out. One of
the riders came up with an empty saddled two-legged creature.
Lanvar mounted the creature and with two of the other
riders, rode back to Soren’s wagon.
“All is well?” Lanvar asked in greeting. He was dressed in
fine black and gold vestments. He was tall and muscular. His neatly trimmed
curly hair almost covered his dark pupils.
“All is well,” Soren replied.
“You are a trader, are you not?”
“Indeed,” Soren replied.
“Are any of your wares for sale?”
“I have some required items to deliver but I have some to
sell, yes.”
“Do you, perchance, have some churta? The gelus are colder
and colder each cycle and it seems to make this particular fruit very difficult
to find, and I do so love the taste of it. I would buy a crate of your finest
churta if you have any.”
“We have two if you want!” Zildjin blurted out.
Lanvar cracked a smile, and then let out a short laugh.
“Do you like magic?” he asked Zildjin.
“Yes, of course, sir. I cheered for you in your last
competition,” Zildjin offered eagerly.
Lanvar nodded with a small grin, then turned to Soren, “I
would purchase both crates of your churta, then.”
Soren and Lanvar bartered for a moment on the price.
“The deal is done,” Soren stated after they agreed on a
price, “Zildjin, jump down and fasten the crates to their steeds.”
Lanvar motioned for one of his servants to hand over a bag
of coins. Soren took it.
Zildjin sat motionless for a moment, looking at Lanvar, not
really realizing that Soren had spoken to him.
“Boy?” Soren prodded.
“Me? Oh, yes, of course, right away.”
Sesuadra was already in the back lifting one crate which he
passed to Marc. Zildjin jumped down from the wagon. The crates held small
crimson colored fruits. Marc carefully handed off the crate to Zildjin. They
repeated the actions and soon a second crate was loaded into Zildjin’s arms. He
quickly walked over to Lanvar’s steed.
“Secure them here,” Lanvar instructed.
Zildjin nodded and carefully placed the crates on the two
legged creatures back, behind Lanvar. He then deftly roped the crates into
place with a few tight knots.
“Very well done. Continue to cheer for me,” He said,
directing his attention to Zildjin, “your dedication is appreciated. Here is a
small token for your enthusiasm.” He reached into a bag tied to the side of the
saddle atop his animal. As he searched he spoke, “Remember, the magic of old is
not lost, as relic hunters we are bringing it back, piece by piece.”
Finally he pulled out something that looked like a silver
medallion, and then handed it to Zildjin.
“Take good care of it, there is something special about it.”
“Thank you sir,” Was all the young man could say.
The three riders turned and
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