The central plane is also nicknamed the Greenland Plane. Geographically, it is divided into four regions: the Azure Tides Kingdom to the east, a city of steel, a hub of commerce and trade controlled by the council of powerful merchants and bankers, each specializing in different business activities; to the north, the Kingdom of Iron Will is embraced by rugged mountains and nourished by fertile valleys. It is also known as the Land of Warriors and Alchemists.
And last but not least, there is Diamond Mage Academy, an elite school and beacon for magical knowledge that serves as neutral ground for those aspiring mages across all the kingdoms of the Thralia Continent.
Drake finally reached the Greenland Plane after three weeks of crossing the frozen expanse, leaving behind him endless white drifts and an ice-coated wilderness. A world in Technicolor now greeted him: fields of brilliant grasses, dancing in the warm breeze, whose earthy smell mingled with the sweet fragrance of flowers in bloom-a pungent memory that he had crossed from frigid slumber into a radiant, breathing paradise.
He led his horse through the towering gates of the City of Steel: every step a wonder, taking in the tall buildings that lined either side of the road with the precision of an artisan's hand. Busy vendors lined the roadside, their stalls filled with everything from the ordinary to the bizarre. Drake yelled out to one of the elderly men, hobbling out and weighed heavily on a weathered walking stick. "Hello there, sir. Could you tell me where the Phantom Mercenary Guide office is?
The old man's voice paused, a slow, measured drum. "My… son… where… you… are… headed… lies… quite… far… away… why… don't… you… take… a… transport… carriage?"
Drake stepped up to him, nodding thoughtfully. "Thanks. Where would I find such a carriage?"
The hand rose once more, shaking as he pointed up the road. "Count… seven… buildings… on… your… left… the… eighth… is… the… transport… office…
Drake thanked him with a respectful bow and went down the busy street, counting buildings. On the Eighth, the scene was really active: people went in and came out, booking their rides. He scanned inside; his face a mask of surprise at the inner structure so very much like a cellular office design, each section a small hive of activity in its own right.
He strolled in, mumbling to himself, "This… almost feels familiar. Is it… someone else from my world summoned? No… that cannot be… unless they were born here…"
A woman draped in black entered with a smooth bow and spoke in a voice as smooth as honey yet businesslike: "How may we assist you, sir?
Drake shook his thoughts away and said, "I need a ride to the Phantom Mercenary Guide." She motioned prettily towards one of the cellular offices. "Please, follow me."
In the office, a man no older than his early thirties sat upon a stack of papers, clearly concentrating without blinking an eye. "Your name and destination, please," he asked in a very serious, businesslike tone.
Drake answered, "Alexandra Drake, going to the Phantom Mercenary Guide.
The young man tore a ticket from a thick stack, noting Drake's information down carefully. "That'll be five silver coins," he said, his hand outstretched. Drake asked in a low tone, "Would you accept gold?
Yeah, that would be one gold coin, the man nodded back. Drake handed him the shining coin and got five silver coins as change. "Please present your ticket to the man on the wooden chair by the corner.
Drake thanked him and crossed over, handing the ticket to the seated man. After a cursory glance, he gestured Drake to follow him outside to a solid, brown carriage. Drake's eyes flickered to the horses pulling the carriage, reminding him of his own.
"Is there a stable here where I might board my horse?" he asked. The man nodded. "Yes, but you will need to go back inside. On your right-hand side, you will see a little office where a lady will make the arrangements for a horse's boarding at two silver a month."
Having taken care of his horse's boarding, Drake walked back to the carriage with an apologetic smile. "Thank you for waiting.
It creaked slightly as it took off, moving in time to the rhythmic beat of hooves as they went on their way to his destination. After twenty-seven minutes, the carriage came to a stop in front of a big building with a board reading "Phantom Mercenary Guide Office." The driver looked back, composed and steady. "Young master, we've arrived."
Drake, exhausted from his journey, climbed out with aching limbs, casting one glance backward at the groaning sign. Taking a deep breath, he shoved inside, his gaze wandering over five mercenary officers sitting behind a long table. On his left-hand side, several clusters were bent over a large board on the wall, regarding its contents with a great deal of interest.
Approaching one of the administrators, Drake was greeted by a courteous smile. "How may I assist you, sir?"
"Good afternoon," Drake began, his voice respectful. "Is there anyone here by the name of Maximus?"
The administrator's smile pulled sideways a little, one of his eyebrows rising questioningly. "Yes, he's one of our top contractors. May I ask why you're looking for him?"
"Oh, nothing serious. Just need to pass along a message," Drake replied.
"He's on a mission right now," said the administrator. "He should be back in about a week, if everything goes according to plan."
"Could you let me know where the mission is?"
"Yes, of course. He and his team went south of the City of Steel to the Fog Forest."
Nodding, Drake began to turn away but then stopped, remembering something. "Is there a transport service here?
Public transport is rare in these parts," the administrator confided. "As luck would have it, however, a Rank 7 mercenary guide is about to embark on a mission that will be crossing into the Fog Forest. If you're willing to wait, that is. You might just see your chance to travel along with them."
With a nod full of thanks, Drake moved to a quiet bench in the corner, lowered himself down onto it, and settled in to wait for the trip to the elusive Fog Forest.