Dunda was beyond words.
The wagon that he rode in bounced along at a steady pace. His view was full of tall, looming walls of granite, gates forged of some foreign black metal, and a slew of towers and grand parapets. From afar the grounds of Garth Verlore had looked like a fortress, and from this close-up, one could still mistake it as thus.
Alas, it was a place not of war, but of knowledge and education.
Dunda was from Gren, a mid-sized, seaside dorpie.
He was born and raised into manual hardship.
Fishing.
Farming.
Foraging.
Gren was still a relatively new settlement by all accounts.
Some 10 years ago, war had come calling.
Gren -then known as Grengia- had been trade and market partners with their distant neighbor, an established dorpie known as Vessmense. Between them was a healthy and growing mercantile relationship, one that spanned several decades.
That is until a new Mayor was elected to rule Vessmense.
This new leader was greedy, ruthless, and persistent in his ways.
He raised the base prices for all of the products that his dorpie exported and began to steal and blackmail valuable trade partners and merchants from not only Grengia but its sister dorpie, Natemense.
It wasn't long before fighters and soldiers from Vessmense began to harass merchants out on the roads between dorpies and villages, forcing both sales and "protection" taxes.
These acts, both those addressed and those left unchecked, had led to many a conflict between the major dorpies…
Those many conflicts had rather quickly led to war.
Dunda had lost both of his parents in that war…His mother first, in a raid-like attack in the middle of the night.
His father just 3 years later on the field of battle, to an enemy War Mage.
His life had been turned upside down at the age of just 6, and further cast into disarray by 9. His Uncle Urik had taken him in, but this was nearly just as bad as being homeless. The man was both cold and cruel. His father had very rarely if ever spoken of his younger brother…and in his passing, he had left him nothing of his secret, yet considerable wealth.
That wealth, a sum of just over 100,000 gold, was Dunda's. Unbeknownst to him, should he begin his schooling, and do well in his chosen field of study, it would be made available to him by the time that he reached the age of 18.
Dunda had never really thought about any of this stuff til now.
In fact, much of it his Uncle simply hadn't told him.
The last few years of his life had been…interesting to say the least. His Uncle was dictatorial, and pushback was neither welcome nor tolerated. Dunda had often found himself woken at the crack of dawn to a meager, and often cold meal. Just to then be ushered off to his uncle's corn fields, or to the seaside to assist in the duties that came with maintaining his uncle's sizable fishing boat.
Until just recently, Dunda had no idea that his father had had so much wealth to his name. He had always been fed simple meals, his clothes were always of average make, and their home was neither fancy nor shabby.
Dunda hadn't even known what his father had done for a living! He had never really thought much of it in his youth, but now that he did think back on it, he realized that he had always been kept occupied in one way or another.
With work usually.
The fishing, farming, and foraging were such a huge part of his daily existence, that he rarely seemed to have time to think too far outside of these things. Whenever he wasn't doing some sort of physical labor, he was being taught to read and write by his mother, this homeschooling would later be continued by his uncle's wife. She was just as cold and cruel as he.
Dunda had purposefully forced himself to forget her name.
He didn't want her dark and detached imagery and namesake to replace the very few and faded memories of his mother that he held on to…
The boy had spent many a night alone, at the back of his uncle's house, in his dark and perpetually damp room.
Nights that he had prayed to…God?
The Universe itself?
For some sort of escape from this life…these people. He had no real concept of religion really. Outside of the prayers that he was made to say before each meal, he didn't tend to pray on his own time.
But with time, he did.
More and more in fact.
A part of him never, and still didn't believe in anything that he could not see, feel, or hear on his own.
A part of him HAD to believe that there was something, someone out there that would take him away from Gren.
Never to return.
He needed to believe, he had come to learn.
It was all that he had to hold on to. He HAD to believe that things would get better.
On the morning of his 16th birthday, everything changed.
A most curious carriage had arrived at his uncle's door.
A tall, slim, prim, and pressed man had climbed down from the driver's seat.
A series of sharp knocks had echoed through the house and to Dunda's half-awake ears.
"WHO DAT BE!?"
His Uncle had shouted from the privy, just outside of his bedroom door.
Dunda would not wait to be asked a second time.
Drowsy, and with tired legs, he rolled from his bed and made his way to the door.
A click.
A clack.
A clank.
A twist, a turn, and a pull.
The locks came undone and the door swung open on oiled hinges.
Before Dunda stood the fanciest, cleanest, and tallest man that he had ever seen.
Unblinking, the man bent at the waist and brought his pristine face down to Dunda's height.
Dunda, at 16 now, was just under 5'10.
The man before him was at least 7'5.
Dunda wore a bland, sand-colored workers' tunic.
The man was draped from neck to toe in what appeared to be studded, green suede light armor.
Dunda wore flat, black work shoes.
The man's boots were tall up to his knee, and polished so thoroughly that one could see themself in them as a mirror, even though they were a deep, chocolaty brown in hue.
The boy had no words.
This wasn't just some mail carrier or local.
He was what Dunda imagined royalty would look like.
"Good morning lad."
The man said with a deep and rumbling voice that startled Dunda from his awe-struck daze. He arched his back a bit and craned his neck in order to make eye contact with the man, as he had now righted his bend, standing tall once again, his arms crossed behind his back.
"I suppose you wouldn't happen to be the man of the house would you?"
The man said, again his voice taking the boy by surprise.
Dunda stumbled over his words initially.
His Uncle answered for him.
"FACK NO HE AIN'T!"
He spat over Dunda's right shoulder, simultaneously dropping a heavy hand on the boy's left.
"Me house, me boy, me conversation! Who be you, and what do you want this early in the morning?"
Unflinching, the tall, regal man raised a closed hand to his mouth and cleared his throat.
"Good morning to you as well…Sir."
He began.
"I am Sir Ivin Rue of Garth Verlore. I have come to retrieve, and escort the young sir to his new home."
It was Urik's turn to be awe-struck.
His hand had slipped from Dunda's shoulder and hung limply at his side, just as his other did. His eyes went as wide as saucers. His face was very suddenly pale and drawn. His mouth hung agape. His shock seemed to change from thus, to both anger and rage as he began to realize what was happening.
Dunda meanwhile was lost in thought.
His prayers…
They had been answered.
He didn't know how to feel.
What to feel.
What to say or do next.
Again, his Uncle spoke in his place.
"You'll… you'll be going now!"
He said to Sir Ivin, the words tumbling with haste from his fumbling and trembling lips. His hand went to the edge of the door and made to close it in the man's face. The door seemed to be warm to the touch, and… vibrating.
For some reason, the door suddenly felt as if it weighed over 300 pounds… needless to say, it didn't budge.
Sir Ivin took a half step forward.
His gate was so long that his small step had carried him beyond the threshold, and into the house. His stunning eyes, a pale green in hue, were both captivating and intimidating all at once.
He spoke.
His voice never grew louder, yet it seemed to boom and echo throughout the house.
"Upon his 16th birthday, the boy is to accompany me, should he have the want, to his new home: Garth Verlore, via the will and wishes of his late father. By and only by the boy's own word should this not come to pass."
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier with every passing second, with every word even.
A fact that was not lost on Uncle Urik.
Dunda took a couple of steps back.
Or at least he had tried to.
What was this? He couldn't move!
His body simply wouldn't respond to his thoughts.
He wanted to… to flee?
To help somehow? Yet if it was fear that held him in place, it wasn't for himself of this "Sir Ivin" It was for his Uncle. He didn't exactly know why he suddenly cared, but he did.
Mayhap it was the fact that this man seemed incredibly powerful.
Uncle Urik would be no match.
Dunda could do nothing but stand and watch in silence.
The space between the two men seemed to be vibrating.
They had their eyes locked on one another.
Dunda had never seen magic used so…liberally.
In fact, up until this point, he had never seen his Uncle use any sort of magic whatsoever. Urik would not back down. He was not extremely affluent in Aether spells, nor did he tend to rely on magic to get by in his day-to-day life, but he knew of mind magic. He knew when his perception was being tampered with. He was a businessman. It was his duty to keep his own mind organized. He dared to take his eyes away from the towering man long enough to chance a glance at the door.
It was simple enough to keep track of the state of things within the bounds of his own home. This made mind manipulation magics a lot less effective here. This fact gave him a sort of "home-field advantage." so to speak.
Sir Ivin dropped the subtle enchantment that he had cast on the door a split second before Urik could undo it with a push of his will, and that very same door (along with the man who was now applying pressure to it) shot forward.
Sir Ivin stepped to his left just in time for the door to close and slam loudly, a second later Urik slammed into the door head first. Bouncing off with a loud crack, he fell back and onto his rump.
The humiliated man clamped both of his hands over his horribly broken nose and spat something up at Sir Ivin, something that was muffled and slurred by the stream of blood that leaked from below his hands. Dunda was stunned beyond words. Beyond belief. He sheepishly glanced up at the man who now stood to the side of his front door, just before the window. His arms still folded calmly behind his back.
Hellz yes, he wanted to go with this guy!
Sir Ivin spoke.
"My sincerest apologies sir."
He began.
"But I simply could not allow you to shut the door without having first gained my answer from the young man here."
He said, slowly turning his head to gaze at Dunda, then back to the now kneeling man. Urik again muttered something that neither Dunda nor Sir Ivin caught, but a split second later, the man's intentions were made clear. As mentioned before, Urik was a businessman. His days were spent out and about the docks and fields mainly, managing his workers and seeing that all was kept afloat. While this did tend to keep him in relatively good physical shape, he was no fighter.
With that being said, he was always armed regardless of that fact.
He was not the most… honest of businessmen.
His dealings had gained him a bit of a reputation around Gren as a "snake oil salesman."
A liar.
A thief even.
This led to him being both beaten and harassed more than a handful of times by local gang leads and even town folk. It was because of this that he had taken to keeping a long, crude knife concealed on his person.
He made his move.
Urik launched himself at Sir Ivin, his hidden blade snapped from its sheath and shot towards the startled man's throat in his clenched right hand. His eyes were bloodshot from the magical exertion. Beads of sweat rolled from the creases in his dirt-caked forehead.
"OVER MY DEAD BODY!"
He shouted as he attacked.
Urik had no idea who Sir Ivin really was, nor could he have ever fathomed the level of mistake that he had just made.
Urik knew only three things.
1: This man was from that accursed school.
2: He would rather the boy (and HIS fortune) die before he let him leave.
And 3. Darkness.
The fight was over before it really began.
If one could really call it that.
Without his feet moving an inch from where they were, Sir Ivin's left arm shot out like a snake, catching Urik at the wrist.
With a slight twist, the bones snapped.
Before Urik could react to the interception, Ivin's right hand struck him four times in the span of three seconds.
First: An open palmed thrust snapped Urik's arm at the elbow, forcing it to bend at an unnatural angle. The knife fell to the floor over Ivin's left shoulder.
Second: A closed backhanded fist slammed into the right side of his upper rib cage, blasting the air from the charging man's lungs.
The third and fourth strikes were a double slap with that same right hand. Once to the right, and a returning slap to the left. With the last slap, Sir Ivin had released his grip on Urik's wrist.
The force of the blow sent the man flying, he collided with the wall and fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.
Dust floated down from the rafters.
Urik snored.
From Sir Ivin's right, Dunda burst into the loudest, purest fit of laughter that he had ever experienced up to that point in his life. Then as he looked up and met Sir Ivin's gaze, he snapped his hands over his mouth and fell silent.
His spine tingled.
His mouth went dry.
His head spun just a bit.
He had heard everything that this man and his Uncle had said, yet he still had no real idea of what was truly happening at the moment. But as the tall, not-so-intimidating man knelt before him and offered him his hand, he knew one thing for sure: He would never look back.
Never.
Maybe something,
someone,
had heard his prayers after all.
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Hello all! And welcome back to Enverdolmol! I hope this tale finds you all well!
I just want to start by thanking you all again, you all keep me going with your love and support. I will be doing my best to keep new and fresh content coming for you all just as often as this brain of mine can pump it out! I hope you all come to love the new characters just as well as all who have been introduced thus far with time and as we dive deeper into our tales!
I will be posting some new Character Dives soon as well so keep an eye out for those as well!
Till next we meet my loyal and loving travelers here in the ever-growing world of Enverdolmol!
Stay safe,
Stay healthy,
And Stay vigilant!
-Redd.