By the time the group finally reached Trivordi, the first part of their assignment was already more or less complete. The small trading town lay peacefully beneath the warm afternoon sun, and the dust of the road slowly settled again after the last wagons had rolled through the gate.
They prepared for the next stage of their escort mission.
The merchant whose goods they were accompanying was already waiting impatiently beside his carriage. Once the last formalities were settled, they climbed onto the back without many words. The horses pawed the ground briefly, the driver clicked his tongue, and the caravan was already moving again.
The road led straight toward Textoria.
Alvios let out an excited cheer.
He sat half on the carriage bench, half on the railing, grinning as if the adventure had only just begun.
"Let's go! This is going to be amazing!"
His motivation seemed limitless.
You might almost have thought the world itself was waiting to throw new challenges at him.
What might our brave heroes experience on this journey?
What dangers would they have to face?
Whom might they still encounter along the way?
Well.
To be honest, none of that happened.
The journey was astonishingly quiet.
No monsters.
No catastrophes.
No dramatic twists.
Except for one lone bandit who tried to rob the caravan.
Unfortunately for him, he had chosen a very unfortunate moment.
The man jumped out of a bush with a drawn knife, tripped over a stone, and was immediately struck by the lead carriage.
A short scream.
A dull impact.
Then he lay motionless in the ditch by the road.
The driver merely shrugged.
"His own fault."
And just like that, the ambush was already over.
Aside from that extremely brief interruption, our heroes reached Textoria without any further trouble.
The sun stood high above the city when the carriage finally rolled through the gate.
The horses snorted in exhaustion.
Their pace slowed more and more until the wagon finally came to a stop.
The group climbed down.
Everyone stretched after the long ride.
The job was done.
The escort had been completed without incident.
Raiiko ran a hand over the back of his neck and tried to work out the stiffness. The trip had taken longer than he had expected.
Even Alvios, who normally could never sit still, looked tired.
"Finally in Textoria," he muttered, letting his shoulders drop.
"That dragged on."
Nouel cast a brief glance at the driver.
"At least there were no problems," he said calmly.
"That's worth more than a fast road."
Meanwhile, Raiiko handled the formal side of things.
He pulled out the crumpled contract sheet, a piece of parchment that had already been folded several times. The edges were frayed, and a few spots had been slightly smudged by rain.
The driver, an official representative of the Merchants' Guild, took the document and checked the details carefully.
He read every line.
Then he gave a short nod.
With a firm press, he finally stamped the official guild seal onto the parchment.
Only with that seal could their payment be issued later.
Without that confirmation, anyone could have claimed to have completed a contract.
A short while later, they stood inside the guild house of Textoria.
The room smelled of paper, ink, and old leather armor.
The assignment was registered.
The parchment handed over.
And finally, they received their pay.
It was not even remotely as much as they had earned from their last mission.
Alvios counted the coins again.
Then he made a slight face.
"That is… less."
Nouel only shrugged.
"We also did less."
Even so, the money, together with what remained from the reward of the last job, was enough to repair their equipment, buy fresh provisions, and pick up a few extra things.
Alvios and Viktoria brought their armor to the blacksmith first.
The old man behind the counter looked over the damaged metal plates.
"Looks like you got yourselves into trouble again."
"Only a little," Alvios replied.
Sparks flew as the blacksmith began repairing the damaged sections.
Meanwhile, Alvios took care of a few more purchases.
He bought:
a binding rope
• a throwing net
• and a sleeping potion
When he returned with the items, the rest of the group looked at him with deep suspicion.
Nouel crossed his arms.
"You'd better not use that on us."
Alvios grinned.
"Me? Never."
Raiiko, meanwhile, quietly tucked away his share of the money as if he were a particularly well-behaved boy.
Nouel used the opportunity to renew his own equipment as well.
Several of his arrows had broken during the fight against his clone.
So he bought new ones.
Carefully selected ones.
"Well then, everyone," Alvios finally said, clapping his hands once.
"You all done?"
He grinned broadly.
"Good. Then on to the next adventure!"
He was eager to see more of this world.
More cities.
More battles.
More stories.
But Viktoria let herself slump against a house wall in exhaustion.
"Take a break, my prince," she groaned.
"My legs are about to fall off."
Raiiko nodded in agreement.
"A few days of rest would be wise," he said.
"We could gather information. Maybe there are new assignments."
But their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a loud uproar.
A huge crowd had gathered in the central square of the city.
In the middle of the crowd stood a large information board.
Alvios and Viktoria exchanged a glance.
"What's going on over there?"
Without hesitation, they pushed their way through the crowd.
People were shoved aside.
A few complained loudly.
But our heroes could not have cared less.
They wanted to know what was happening.
After a few minutes, they finally fought their way to the board.
Viktoria pointed at the large poster.
"My prince… look."
Alvios stared at it.
"Whoa… no way."
In large letters, the poster read:
GATHERING OF LEGENDS
As excited as they were, neither of them actually knew what that meant.
A middle-aged man had overheard their conversation.
He laughed quietly.
"What? Don't tell me you don't know the legend?"
Alvios and Viktoria shook their heads at the same time.
The man cleared his throat.
Then he began speaking in a dramatic storyteller's voice.
"Then let me tell you a story…"
He cleared his throat once more, as if preparing himself for an old tale he had already told dozens of times.
Alvios and Viktoria practically hung on his every word.
"Every ten years," he began slowly, "Aeridor holds what is called a Gathering of Legends. At this gathering, just as the name suggests, the heroes of past ages assemble."
He paused briefly.
"Heroes from a time when Aeridor was still at war."
His voice grew more serious.
"It was a terrible war. Murder… despair… entire cities were wiped out."
The crowd around them had gone quiet by now.
Even those who had only stopped out of curiosity were listening now.
"Around thirty years ago," the man continued, "the Regina of Aeridor united her forces against the so-called Dark Order."
Alvios furrowed his brow.
The man continued.
"With the help of brave adventurers, they eventually managed to defend the kingdom. But the price was high."
He looked briefly at the ground.
"More than half of the royal troops died in that battle."
He sighed.
"And as for the adventurers… well…"
He let the sentence trail off.
"The few survivors decided after the war to establish a tradition. A tradition celebrated every decade in Trivordi."
Alvios' eyes began to shine.
"A tournament," the man said at last.
"A tournament for the new generation."
Now Viktoria also began to grin.
The man raised one finger.
"The winner of this tournament receives glory, honor… and a personal audience with Regina Aeridoris."
The crowd began murmuring excitedly.
"And besides that," he added, "ten warriors from the old age, true legends, will be present at the tournament."
Alvios could barely stand still.
"And if you win," the man said, "you may challenge one of those legends personally."
Alvios threw both arms into the air.
"That's insane! When does the tournament start?!"
A familiar voice answered from behind them.
"Alvios… Viktoria… don't tell me you two really didn't know about this."
Nouel had managed to push his way through the crowd by now as well.
His expression was a mix of disbelief and mild despair.
"You don't know the Gathering of Legends?"
Raiiko appeared a few seconds later behind Viktoria.
Alvios, meanwhile, was completely fired up.
"I'm all in!"
He jumped onto the small stone platform in front of the information board.
"Just wait, legends of the past!"
He spread his arms dramatically.
"Here comes the great Alvios! I'll make sure that we, too, go down in the history books!"
His voice echoed over the entire square.
And suddenly…
it became deathly silent.
Viktoria and Nouel froze.
Slowly, dozens of heads turned toward Alvios.
"My prince…" Viktoria whispered in panic.
"Not so loud."
Only now did Alvios realize that absolutely everyone was staring at him.
Nouel pressed a hand to his face.
Raiiko, on the other hand, had already disappeared somewhere back into the shadows.
Then a young voice from the crowd suddenly shouted:
"Quiet! They're coming!"
Everyone turned at once.
At the far end of the long road leading to the square, several riders appeared.
They moved slowly through the crowd.
Seven figures.
Seven legends.
At the very front rode a small dwarf.
Yet despite his size, he radiated an incredible presence.
On his head sat a golden crown shaped like rising dragons.
His cloak was deep red and adorned with golden patterns.
And slung over his shoulder was a warhammer almost as large as he was.
Alvios' eyes widened.
"Damn… he looks incredible."
Nouel let out a quiet sigh.
He was the only one among them who genuinely studied history.
"That is King Shragrim Krumorgin," he explained calmly.
"The king of all dwarves."
Alvios' mouth fell open.
"During the war, he supposedly forced a giant over a kilometer tall to its knees with a single blow."
Viktoria stared at him in awe.
"And more than that," Nouel continued, "he was the one who drove off the World Dragon."
To Alvios and Viktoria, all of this felt like a dream.
Nouel pointed at the second dwarf.
"The one there is his son. Shrodmir Krumorgin."
"He was also part of the great battle thirty years ago."
Beside them rode an elven woman.
Her gaze was calm. Almost cold.
"That's Selia," Nouel explained.
"Not much is known about her."
He paused briefly.
"But in the great battle, she is said to have taken down over two hundred enemies… before anyone even realized she was there."
Alvios swallowed.
Behind her rode a huge figure.
A reptilian being.
"That is Slarg, a Saurakai."
Nouel crossed his arms.
"They say his will alone was enough to keep pace with the Regina for a short time."
A group of young women suddenly began squealing excitedly.
"Oh my god! Back there! That's Nuol!"
Nouel pointed farther back as well.
"A Nerathi."
"A rare Aqua-born people."
Nuol's skin shimmered crystal-blue.
He wore a dark robe with a breastplate over it.
His face was strange, almost alien.
Two small feelers hung at his cheeks.
His eyes were round red spheres.
"Three eyes… Nouel, do you see that?!" Alvios was completely fascinated.
Nouel deliberately ignored him.
"His spear is made of a green-silver metal."
"With that weapon, he defeated several elite warriors during the war."
Farther back rode two more figures.
An older human man.
Beside him a woman with a hood.
Curved horns protruded from beneath it.
Nouel continued speaking.
"The woman is a succubus."
"The man beside her is sixty years old by now."
"The two of them fought together in the great battle."
He grinned faintly.
"And they even have a child together."
Alvios blinked.
"What?"
"Their son is Prince Arthus."
Nouel shrugged.
"He should be around twenty-three now."
The crowd cheered as the legends rode through the street.
But three of the ten legends had still not appeared.
No one knew where they were.
Viktoria's eyes shone.
"My prince…"
She grabbed Alvios by the arm.
"Let us go down in history."
Alvios nodded immediately.
Nouel's stories had lit a fire in both of them.
They wanted to fight.
They wanted to prove that they, too, had what it took to become heroes.
Luckily for them, a registration booth for the tournament opened only a few minutes later.
"GO!"
Alvios and Viktoria immediately sprinted off.
They shoved their way through the masses.
The Aether itself seemed to listen.
The new generation wanted to prove itself.
Alvios suddenly noticed that Nouel was not following them.
He turned around.
"Nouel!"
His expression fell.
"Why aren't you coming?"
Nouel crossed his arms.
"I'm not entering."
Alvios blinked.
"What?"
Nouel shrugged.
"Tournaments are boring."
But there was a dark shadow over his eyes.
Something from his past.
Something he had never truly let go of.
"I'll just watch you two."
He turned away.
"So stop bothering me."
His voice sounded cold.
Meanwhile, Raiiko was meditating in the shadow of a wall.
His eyes were closed.
His breathing calm.
"A tournament…" he murmured.
Inside his mind, he was fighting himself.
Strike.
Block.
Dodge.
Every movement was precise.
His mirror image attacked.
Raiiko countered.
A lethal exchange of blows.
He repeated the fight over and over again.
Fifty times.
He won forty-eight of them.
His focus grew sharper and sharper.
He felt the Aether flow.
He was one with it.
After a few minutes, he opened his eyes.
"I should watch the fights."
The wind blew in the direction of the registration stand.
"Good thing we made it!"
Alvios was breathing heavily.
Sweat ran down his forehead.
Viktoria was just as out of breath.
The crowd had nearly crushed them.
But they had registered successfully.
Shortly after that, another announcement was made.
The tournament would not take place in Trivordi.
But in another city.
Memoria Decem.
A city built from the aftermath of the battle thirty years ago.
There stood a massive arena.
The Circulus Immortalis.
But the true peculiarity was not above the arena.
It was below it.
Beneath the arena lay catacombs.
More than a million graves.
Fallen warriors.
Heroes of the war.
It was said their souls watched the tournament.
Judging the new generation.
The journey to Memoria Decem began.
By tradition, all participants had to travel on foot.
Even the legends followed this custom.
Alvios, Viktoria, Nouel, and Raiiko walked together with thousands of other warriors.
"Nouel," Alvios suddenly said.
"Why don't you actually want to enter?"
Nouel did not react.
His gaze remained cold.
"I forgot," he finally said.
Alvios went pale.
The group kept moving.
Suddenly, a race broke out.
Everyone wanted to reach the legends first.
"I'll get there before all of you!"
Alvios burst into a sprint.
"Wait for me, my prince!"
Viktoria ran after him.
Nouel sighed.
Then he suddenly grabbed Viktoria's hand.
"That's enough."
He took the lead.
All of them ran.
The ground vibrated under the steps of the thousands of participants.
"I'm going to be first!"
"Keep dreaming!"
Nouel started laughing.
His legs were burning.
But he kept running.
Alvios stumbled several times.
But he refused to give up.
Then he suddenly stopped.
His face went pale.
Ahead of the legends, someone was already running.
An elf.
With white hair.
Alvios' eyes widened.
"Raiiko…"
Raiiko was running completely at ease.
As if nothing at all had happened.
He had simply emerged from the shadows.
Right behind the legends.
"You cheater!" Alvios shouted.
Raiiko did not react.
He just kept running.
Nouel finally reached him.
Panting, he grabbed at Raiiko's robe.
"How…?"
Raiiko gave a faint grin.
But before he could answer, a deep voice rang out.
The dwarf king had stopped.
"We have arrived!"
He raised his massive hammer.
The earth trembled lightly.
"Let us make this tournament a magnificent feast of battle!"
More than five thousand people cheered at once.
The beginning of the Tournament of Ancestors.
A tournament held every ten years.
And perhaps…
the next generation of legends would be born here.