For the first time in a long time, the town of Varun was filled to the brim with people. Soldiers stationed right outside the towns edge waited as their representatives purchased supplies.
At the gate stood an eager middle aged hunter, who coincidentally was the chief of the village. After greeting the two large men in armor he began showing them into the town while leading them towards a large building near the center.
It was then that a little fat boy ran hurriedly in behind them cradling his broken purple hand.
The town isn't large, nor is it small, and it's separated into three sections.
The eastern section is the living area for all the residents, which has a variety of houses with no set design.
This was because the town had developed quickly over the past hundred years, some houses were made just of timber with thatch roofs, and some were made of stone with wooden roofs. Yet the signs of development were clear as the houses improved from simple wood to complex stone designs.
Surrounding the town is a rectangle shaped wooden set of walls with a single gate leading to the outside. At each corner stands a small tower which holds a few lookouts in leather armor wielding longbows.
Varun is developing, with enough time and a bit of luck it will become one of the largest trading hubs near the southern border.
The western section where the gate is, is the market. The main road leading from the gate goes right through this section of the town.
The road is paved with stones and zig zags around many small stores and stands. Local citizens are allowed to set up stands to sell their goods and more established businesses purchased land to build stores.
There is an alchemy shop which facilitates the purchase of various potions and pills.
A large hunters lodge which is responsible for providing game for the town's citizens.
A small black blacksmith's shop with smoke rising from its eight different chimneys which provides the farmers with tools and the local garrison with weapons.
Lastly, there is a main town hall which holds meetings every tenth day of the month.
While the town was bigger than the three surrounding villages, it was still considered small compared to the more established cities.
Ever since the town leader became a cultivator, it's size began to swell. Growing from a small population of a thousand to over 10,000! All in the past 50 years, the town had grown over tenfold.
In the easternmost section of the town there is a small barracks, which is much nicer than the rest of the town. It's made of thick stone and has it's own set of walls to protect the area.
Large orange banners with crossed white spears cascade over the ramparts for all to see. These banners bare the sigil of House Thrackian, the local Count which oversees the safety of the village.
Stationing troops in this village was a deterrent to raiders, monsters, and other types of misfortunes. It also allows the local lord to show his might to the citizens building his prestige.
Anyone could build a small village within a territory, but when you receive a garrison from the local lord, you know you've really made it.
Prestige however wasn't the only reason a lord left troops in different villages. Once a town's population exceeds 10,000, the emperor will gift it a large runic tower crafted by dwarves.
When a town reaches this size, cultivators begin to appear. I don't mean they fall from the sky, but they start to be birthed from the mortal citizens. To the naked eye, a mortal child and a cultivator are the same. Yet within they're very different, this is where the runic tower comes into play.
The local lord who leaves troops within the village will send one Justiciar with them. They do this for two reasons, first to host the grand test, and second to establish the lords laws within the town.
Leaving troops stationed within the city allowed for the lord to join in a large event every five years. At this event the whole town would bring their children aged 10 - 15 to be tested.
This test would determine if there were any children with the ability to cultivate. Often times these events would lead to only one or two children being revealed as cultivators in large towns.
Yet these one or two children were worth more than all the other mortal children combined. In a small town like this, it would be lucky for them to produce a few cultivators in over hundred years!
While getting more common as time goes on, cultivators are still pretty rare. Only one child in 10,000 that are tested will be revealed as a cultivator.
This is a sharp increase from a few thousand years ago where only one child in a hundred thousand were cultivators. Yet no one knows why this is.
Cultivators are the cornerstones of any force, and some even have the potential to become gods among men. While all cultivators are more powerful than mortals, there is also a hierarchy between them.
All cultivators possess spiritual roots within them which allows them to absorb and refine the worlds mana. These roots range from inferior to moderate, high, superior, and divine. These roots are the gate that stands high between mortals and cultivators.
The quality of ones roots determined how far on the path of cultivation they could likely go. A cultivator with inferior roots could likely become an innate warrior with years of hard practice and work.
Those possessing moderate roots could become a quasi-knight or even a knight if they were lucky.
The higher the root quality, the farther on the path one could go.
While root quality is important, it is not the only thing that cultivators can rely on.
There are rare bodily constitutions and bloodlines one can possess which give rare benefits. Even one with an inferior root could become a knight if they possess a higher quality bloodline or constitution.
It was this day that a rare testing would occur, and the town's children would be tested for potential. The caravan, which was going to the deep south also planned to arrive on this day specifically.
It was common for lords, mercenaries and sect disciples to attend these meetings to obtain talented youth.
A single cultivator had the power to change the nation, how could they not be chomping at the bit?
The caravan's journey to the south is dangerous, and they would likely lose many of their soldiers. Recruiting these kids and mortal warriors would allow them to prepare for the impending losses.
The south was home to the frosted lands of the Normangandyr Empire, whose people resembled that of barbarians. The land, which was split in two by a large volcanic eruptions years back, was the only place to get unique furs, rare ice attribute plants, and exotic slaves.
To procure these rare and exotic goods, many trade caravans would venture through the frozen wasteland with mercenary guards. Often these would be guarded by mercenary groups or even the local lord's troops.
While there was no ongoing war with Normangandyr, it was covered in large mountains which many different groups of bandits and sects resided. Often, caravans would have to pay tolls or fight their way through to arrive at the trade towns.
It's not that lords haven't tried to weed out these good for nothing bandits, the mountains were just seemingly endless and so were the different bandit groups. It is very lucrative to attack these caravans, thus when one group is killed two more take it's place.
After many years, certain bandit groups have become infamous yet manageable. If you pay the usual toll, it would allow for safe passage. Sometimes even the mountain bandits participated in the trade. Within the mountains are many rare and desirable goods that aren't available elsewhere.
They say the devil you know is better than the one you don't.
The frozen lands of Normangandyr are an unforgiving place, and it's easy to convince people to commit thievery.
Who wouldn't want to take a piece of the crown jewel which is the north? It's simply the way of things.
Bandits aren't even the only obstacle, there are Orcs within the frozen lands. Those that ride magma iron boats with red skin sails across the boiling sea.
At this time the large caravan is traveling south, escorted by a large group of armored guards split between three separate mercenary groups. This caravan, led by a mercenary group called the Icebound Brigade was heading for Normangandyr.
The caravan, started its journey at the capital of the Thrakan Empire. Using this long journey to procure goods which were rare in the frozen lands of the south yet plentiful in the north.
Wine was the most desirable commodity to the southerners only produced in the North, followed by special fruits and expensive silks.
This caravan's leader is named Josiah, and he was currently meeting with the town's leader. Who coincidentally was comforting a small child with a broken hand pointing his purple fingers at a white haired smaller child with red eyes.
Standing nearby, was a tall man in metal armor with a black shield pattern across his right pauldron. He stood there defiantly against the village chief with his 10 other mercenaries proudly behind him.
Despite the obsidian guard mercenaries being low in number, neither the caravan leader, nor the other mercenary leaders dared to leavy an accusation.
This mercenary group was small yet every member was a cultivator, meaning they were more powerful than a 100 man mortal army.
Their leader Valkir commanded the 10 many unit of the Obsidian Guard mercenary group, a renown knight who was destined to become a swordmaster.
*Thud*
The sound of coins within a leather pouch hit the ground causing a clanging of the coins within. Gold coins spilled out along the floor causing the town leaders eyes to sparkle momentarily.
"I will be taking this small child with us"
The hunters eyes swelled as he looked down at his son's broken hand, and his face flushed with red as he saw his prized dagger sheathed within the belt of the armored Valkir.
What could he do? Nothing.
He was merely a squire ranked cultivator, who among the low tier cultivators was the lowest of the low. Yet still, he was stronger than mortals and had a longer lifespan.
Cultivators were separated into four tiers, low, middle, high, and supreme.
The lower ranked cultivators were then broken out into three separate major realms, Squire, Innate, and Quasi-Knight.
The middle ranked cultivators were also broken out into three major realms and with the first being Aura Knight.
Valkir is no low ranked cultivator, he is a full fledged aura knight, a middle tier cultivator. The gap between large realms is vast and a middle tier cultivator could wipe the floor with a hundred lower tier.
Valkier is one who could walk sideways without a second thought among this small town. Most middle tiered cultivators belonged to large prominent families or sects yet Valkir was an anomaly.
Offering monetary compensation to the leader was his form of consolation, not for his sons hand but the loss of an innate warrior. Valkir couldn't care less about the mortal child, to him, he was another ant.
He did however understand how the towns leader would feel losing a cultivator. For if this town gained an innate warrior, it could grow. More businesses would feel comfortable opening up shop, and more people would settle because of the protection.
The town's leader could only pick up the money and swallow his anger, yet that didn't mean he was finished.
The towns leader put on a fake smile,
"You pay this large sum for an orphan wild child. He must be special, he must have peaked your interest somehow."
The town leader looked the boy up and down with disgust and though to himself,
*Tsk*
This wild child broke my kids hand... If he caught the eye of this knight then he must possess spiritual roots. My damn child... Why must he make trouble with kids all the time. If this child grows under the tutelage of the knight. What will I do if he someday comes back for revenge against the little one....
"This bastard broke my child's hand, and such he should lose his. Where is the face of the leader of this town if I let my own child be hurt so badly. He should feel lucky, if I were a someone with a title the boy would have lost his life!..."
*Burst*
Suddenly the doors of the town hall were flung open, and a small man in fine silk robes walked through. He was accompanied by many armored guards and holding a large scroll.
This scroll was labeled Thrakan's Laws and Guidelines.
This caused Valkir to sneer and the town's leader to smile gleefully,
Valkir turned to him,
"Justiciar, what business brings you to this place..."
Every step caused the sound of metal on wood, clanking in the air, like a symphony of coins rattling throughout the townhall.
The smaller man in fine silk robes sighed and looked at the small boy.
"On a day such as today you cause trouble. According to the laws of the land you should be flogged and thrown into a cell for the month"
He clicked his tongue,
*Tsk*
He pointed to the child who was holding the black fox,
"Lucky for you, today is a most auspicious day! It is the day of the grand testing. You better hope you're special for if you're not you will face judgement for what you done today."
The white hair boy looked down at the floor saying nothing. He had run into this man before, he was the one who kicked him out of the town for being 'Dirty' in the first place.
Valkir's sneer turned into a smile which caught the Justiciar off-guard.
He knew the potential of the child, he watched him become an innate warrior in front of him.
He was also curious about the child's potential, the kid wasn't meditating and the mana was drawn to him.
This signified one of two things. Either the child had a unique bloodline, or a rare body constitution.
With this test, all will be revealed.
For better, or for worse.