Rough Landings

A spring breeze wafted through the meadow, carrying the scent of fresh pine and morning dew. The clearing was teeming with life; the songbirds wove an intricate melody as the staccato scurries of the woodland squirrels set the tempo. Nature’s tune woke even the most lethargic of beasts from their winter slumber. Slowly but surely, the chorus of the wild sprung into harmony.

Crack! A sudden interruption broke the rhapsody and reverberated through the meadow, catching the attention of the nearby critters — an unexpected guest. More curious than weary, the creatures peered to get a view of the figure who had just materialized out of thin air before them.

A slender figure lay sprawled on top of a thicket, green hair cascading behind her like a silk veil. A simple warrior’s tunic clad her body, and a sheathed longsword hung at her waist. Battered leather gloves and boots covered her hands and feet, indicative of intense and repetitive training.

“Silvie would have loved this,” Lorraine murmured to herself through the pulses of a splitting headache as she caught sight of her surroundings. She reminisced about the cute little girl who had befriended her one quiet morning in the practice fields on The Homeworld as she was training alone.

Worry suddenly filled her veins like ice, chilling her heart; her last memory was of Silvie accidentally tumbling into the teleporter as it was activated, materializing both The Grand Archive’s party and Silvie into this strange new world of Cambria.

She unceremoniously picked herself up from the thicket she had found herself on, combed the twigs out of her hair with her gloved fingers, and dusted the soil from herself. Every fiber of her being felt as if it had been stretched to the breaking point before snapping back into place. Her muscles screamed with each movement, the squirrels staring down at her swam in her vision, and her throat was beyond parched.

They did mention traversing worlds would take some getting used to, but no one said anything about it being this bad, Lorraine thought to herself. In The Grand Archive, her instructors had warned her about the acclimation process for traveling to another world. Moving from the mana-rich Homeworld to a mana-starved world on the brink of collapse would come with some adverse effects that trainees generally had not experienced before.

No wonder that mage had a smirk on his face as we departed on this mission. I’ll pay him back doubly when I find him. Lorraine accented her resolve with each weighted footstep out of the clearing.

But first, I need to find Silvie. Thinking of her dear friend suddenly thrust into Cambria, going through the same materialization aches and pains that Lorraine just experienced, energized Lorraine to move forward.

Sunlight pierced through the foliage at uneven intervals. Leaves crunched underfoot as Lorraine dragged her lethargic body through the woods.

Get out of the woods, find a road, and then find a bed. Once I get some rest, I can start thinking about how to find Silvie and how to complete this mission, Lorraine thought to herself, barely able to keep her thoughts straight. Nausea came over her in waves, and she took periodic breaks to steady her breathing.

A short trek later, she found herself emerging from the grove onto the edge of a well-trodden road. The road curved westward, cutting through a quiet and sleepy village at the break of dawn. Still drained from the travel, Lorraine trudged forward, drawn forward by the thought of a warm meal and a place to rest her head.

An Unsettling Settlement

As she entered the village, Lorraine did not notice any motion — not even a wisp of smoke escaped from the buildings. Crows perched on the rooftops like gargoyles, waiting and watching expectantly. The silence grew more oppressive with each step into the village.

Lorraine felt a prick in the back of her mind, triggering her honed danger sense. Adrenaline began coursing through her body, loosening her fatigued limbs, as she slowly unsheathed her sword in anticipation. The eerie atmosphere grew more palpable as she approached the town tavern, sword in hand. With her other hand, she tentatively placed it against the warped oak door, steadying herself and her breath.

Creakkk.

Screams punctured the air. Smoke choked her lungs. The floor was wet with blood. She was a child again, smothered by her parents’ corpses as a towering monster slashed through the villagers like paper. Fear seized her as memories she had tried hard to repress came flooding back.

The smoke burned her throat. Her screams were just hoarse coughs. Her small body was pinned down, unable to move. Helpless. Defenseless. Useless. Terror had consumed her and she could do nothing but wait and die.

Lorraine’s breathing grew heavy. The blood-soaked massacre she had found in the tavern triggered her memories of her village’s slaughter. Corpses lay strewn across the room, twisted and sliced in grotesque shapes. Reality and memory became blurred and her senses were overwhelmed. Her grip on her sword tightened, preparing to smite the monster in her memories — the monster she was powerless against as a child.

His haunting visage was branded into her mind. Although she could not make out any of his features at the time because of the smoke, his disgusting and overpowering aura and wicked blade slashed a clear image. The only thing for certain Lorraine understood at the time was that this monstrosity was a God within The Grand Archive.

Over time, her fear and terror contorted into hate and determination. From the day she was pulled alive from the burnt wreckage of her home, she resolved to strengthen her body and join The Grand Archive to one day hunt down the monster responsible for her misery – to claim vengeance for her murdered family and friends.

But as she stood frozen in that doorway, her thoughts were paralyzed.

All that training, all that determination…and still I am nothing but a child. Lorraine’s hands shook uncontrollably, barely maintaining her grip on her sword.

My first mission and I can barely hold it together. Pathetic… A tear leaked out from her eye, betraying her emotions. Loathing for her tormentor and for her weakness welled up in her heart.

“Hail, wandering warrior. Who do you serve?” A clear, authoritative voice rang out, breaking Lorraine from her nightmare. She whirled around, hands still clenched on her longsword, ready to strike down her phantoms. Taking a moment to pause and catch her breath, Lorraine slowly brought herself back to reality.

Before her was a knight of solid build, encased in polished steel plate. Gold trim filigree lined his armor, and a crimson cape billowed in the breeze. One hand cautiously rest on the hilt of his broadsword sheathed at his waist as he waited for Lorraine's response. Behind him, a steed waited patiently, nibbling at some wild grass.

“Ah, I…I’m a sell-sword from a faraway land from the south. Just looking for some work and coin.” Lorraine recited a story she had prepared and practiced a few times before for her mission to Cambria.

“Well, lucky for you, we have plenty of both. This kingdom’s seen better days. These atrocities,” the knight, relaxing slightly, pointed at the tavern Lorraine had just entered, “are becoming more and more commonplace. In fact, The King is setting up a task force and hiring mercenaries like yourself to keep the peace. Might be just what you are looking for.” Weariness showed in his eyes as he replied.

“I am all too familiar with the casualties of war…” Lorraine replied shakily, still haunted by the travesty at the inn and her past.

“We have dispatched some scouts to hunt down the murderers responsible for this atrocity. I am headed back to Camelot on patrol myself. Let me escort you. Sir Damian of Riversbend, captain of the Camelot Guard, at your service.”

“Lorraine Allard. I appreciate the courtesy, captain.”

Moving Forward

The captain led Lorraine on a half-day’s journey further west past the village before arriving at the base of a hillside flanked by a flowing river. They stopped occasionally to rest and split the rations that the captain had brought along for the scouting trip. To keep the pace, the captain just led his steed by the leash on foot.

Occasionally the captain and Lorraine would make small talk, discussing the history of Camelot and the surrounding Kingdom of Aesa. Outside of the sudden rise in faction disputes between nobles and criminals taking advantage of the chaos, Lorraine did not pick up on anything too out of the ordinary that she thought would help her mission. Likewise, Silvie’s description did not ring any bells for the captain.

As they traversed the switchbacks of the hill, Lorraine sensed the air grow richer and denser in mana. Each passing gust of wind energized her, soothing some of the aches and pains she had experienced earlier in her materialization. Slowly, the fear-tinged tendrils of hopelessness receded from her mind. As they reached the top, the mana almost radiated from the valley below.

A picturesque landscape blossomed before Lorraine’s eyes as she crested the top of the hill. A massive valley, lush with life and dotted with farms, villages, and forests, expanded in front of her. Rivulets streamed through the valley, flowing to a central point where a great gleaming city stood proudly. Pearlescent walls towered over the surrounding lands, capturing and refracting the sun’s rays into prismatic light. Within the walls, a bustling city could be seen, people teeming around the streets like ants. At the center, an impregnable castle soared above the city, standing as both a symbol of absolute power and divine right.

“Welcome to Camelot.”