They agreed to go their separate ways for the day. Darius headed toward the smithy to handle party equipment repairs. Finn ambled off whistling a tune, likely toward the entertainment district. Lyra and Erik walked together toward the market square, which lay beyond the main road.
The market was lively at midday. Merchants hawked goods from stalls, everything from fresh produce and smoked meats to basic alchemical potions and second-hand weapons. Erik and Lyra strolled past a fruit vendor where Lyra purchased a handful of small red berries. She offered one to Erik. "Try this, a sunsweet berry. Good for replenishing energy."
He popped it into his mouth. It was tart and sweet, juices waking him up. "Delicious," he said.
As they moved along, Erik noticed something that made him pause: a stall where a scruffy man was selling books and scrolls. Among the tattered covers, one title caught his eye, "Bestiary of the Abyss: A Guide to Dungeon Creatures."
Lyra followed his gaze. "Interested in some reading?"
Erik smiled a bit sheepishly. "I think it could be useful. I, uh, realize I have a lot to learn about the creatures in this world." That was an understatement; beyond goblins, he only had vague notions from games or the fragmented memories of this body.
The bookseller grinned a toothless grin. "Fine choice, sir. That'll be five copper for the bestiary."
As Erik counted out coins, his eyes wandered across the other titles. Another spine caught his attention, "A History of Astoria and the Four Kingdoms." The cover was worn, the gold lettering faded, but the pages within looked intact.
He hesitated, then added, "And this one as well. The history book."
Lyra gave him an approving nod. "A wise choice. Knowing the land's past can help you understand its present. Especially now."
The bookseller rubbed his hands. "An educated adventurer, rare breed these days. That'll be another seven copper, good sir."
Erik paid without hesitation, tucking both books into his satchel. "I've… got some catching up to do," he admitted with a wry grin.
Lyra smiled warmly. "We all do, in one way or another."
They continued to browse. Erik bought a sturdy dark green tunic to replace his torn one, and a spare waterskin. As they passed a booth displaying trinkets and charms, Lyra slowed. Her eyes were drawn to a simple leather necklace with a tiny wooden carving of a wolf. She picked it up, smiling softly. "This reminds me of our party's name… Iron Wolves."
The vendor, a kindly old woman, piped up, "That there is a charm for camaraderie and courage. Blessed by a druid, it is."
Lyra looked to Erik. "Perhaps we could get this for Darius. A token of how we feel, that he keeps us safe like a lead wolf."
Erik nodded warmly. "That's a great idea." Darius wasn't the type to buy such things for himself, but a gift from his team might mean a lot.
They pooled a bit of coin to purchase the charm. Lyra beamed, clearly happy. "We'll give it to him tonight at supper, together."
Spending time with Lyra was easy. Erik found her presence calming. She had a nurturing aura and a quiet strength beneath her gentle manners. He learned that she'd been raised in a temple orphanage and trained as a cleric to help people, which is why she joined the adventurers, to protect the helpless from monsters. It was inspiring and a stark contrast to Finn's profit-driven sass and Darius's duty-bound stoicism. Their party truly was a balance of personalities.
By late afternoon, the errands were done. Erik had a bit over 9 silver remaining, plenty for now. He parted with Lyra as she headed to evening prayers. Not wanting to return to the tavern just yet (where Finn was likely deep in his cups by now), Erik wandered the outskirts of town.
Blackstone Outpost backed against a craggy hill on its east side, while to the north lay the endless expanse of the dungeon wilds, forests and canyons known to house various low-to-mid level dungeons. To the west, the road led eventually to bigger cities. Erik strolled up a path to the top of the eastern hill where an old watchtower ruin stood. From here, he could see beyond the walls.
In the distance, beyond rolling plains, something caught his eye, faint glimmers of light near the horizon, in a line. He squinted; they looked like floating motes or perhaps glowing crystals? The original Erik's memories surfaced: those were the Dungeon Pillars, enormous magical spires scattered across the world that marked entrances to deep labyrinths below. At night they often glowed faintly. Each pillar was essentially a gateway to a separate mega-dungeon. Blackstone's economy thrived on the closest ones that low-level adventurers could plunder.
There were also rumors, Erik recalled, of a great central dungeon, the Tower of Eternum that had been mentioned. Unlike the pillars that delved into the earth, the Tower rose into the sky, and supposedly connected to the heart of the world's mystery.
Erik sat on a broken stone, watching the horizon as dusk approached. Two lives' worth of thoughts mingled in his head. This world was filled with so many unknowns, and he felt both exhilarated and overwhelmed. The power of the runes made him feel he could eventually stand up to its challenges, yet he couldn't shake the fear of losing what he'd gained, these friends, this new chance.
He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the evening breeze. Suddenly, faint crunching footsteps alerted him. Erik's eyes snapped open and he reached for the axe at his side, thinking perhaps a stray monster had crept up.
"Woah there," came a familiar voice. It was Darius, raising open palms as he stepped into view around the ruined tower wall. "Didn't mean to startle you."
Erik relaxed, lowering his hand. "Darius. It's alright. I was lost in thought."
The knight approached, still in his partial armor, though he had removed the heavy breastplate and only wore chainmail and a tunic over it. He looked at the same distant lights Erik had been watching. "I often come up here to think too. Before a big journey, or after one."
He fell quiet, as if considering his next words. Erik waited respectfully. Darius wasn't a man of many words, so when he spoke at length, it was usually important.
"You fought well yesterday," Darius finally said. "Better than I expected. I may have said that already… but it bears repeating." He turned his gaze to Erik. "Something changed in you. Not just skill, your eyes. In the heat of battle, I saw a resolve… a fire that wasn't there before."
Erik felt a prick of anxiety. He wasn't sure how to respond. "I… I realized what's at stake, I suppose. I didn't want to let anyone down, or lose anyone." That was as honest a statement as he could manage without revealing everything.
Darius studied him for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Fear of loss can harden a man's will. Hold on to that, but don't let it consume you." He stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Erik's shoulder. "You're like a younger brother to me, Erik. I need you to know that. I've led this party for five years, and I've seen too many comrades perish by carelessness or despair. But I have a feeling… you might be the one to surpass us all someday."
Erik's eyes widened in surprise. Coming from the seasoned warrior, that was high praise indeed. Or perhaps a premonition? The weight of Darius's words pressed on him, along with a foreboding sense of why Darius might be saying this now, almost like a farewell. It made Erik's stomach clench.
"I'll do my best," Erik managed softly. "I won't waste the chance you've given me, bringing me into your team." Guilt stabbed him in a brief, but sharp pang, knowing he hadn't truly earned that trust originally. He vowed to be worthy of it now.
Darius gave something almost like a smile, rare for him. "Good. That's all I ask." He patted Erik's shoulder and then moved to lean against the ruin wall, eyes on the horizon once more. "Get some rest tonight. I have a feeling we'll have work soon. The roads aren't getting any safer."
Erik nodded. Together they watched as the first stars emerged. He felt heartened by Darius's words, and even more determined not to let him down.
Later that night, after supper with Lyra and Finn and a subdued round of drinks at the Gilded Tankard, Erik found himself alone once more in his room at the inn.
He set his pack down by the narrow bed, pulled the two newly purchased books from within, Bestiary of the Abyss and A History of Astoria and the Four Kingdoms, and sat beneath the flickering light of a single wall-mounted lamp.
The room was quiet save for the muted hum of conversation drifting up from the common room below. Erik shifted, propped his back against the wall, and opened the Bestiary first. Its pages smelled faintly of old parchment and ink. The introduction was simple but chilling:
The Abyss is not a place, but a principle—a cosmic blight that seeps into the world, twisting life into expressions of decay and ruin. Its touch spawns creatures of corruption, and from its depths of silence rise the Dungeon Lords, powerful beings who wield its entropic power as their own.
He read in rapt attention, absorbing what he could about creatures of darkness. The battle at the goblin warren had been but a taste of what this world contained. If these were only the lesser known threats, what nightmares lurked in deeper places?
With that sobering thought, he set the Bestiary aside and opened A History of Astoria and the Four Kingdoms. The preface offered a poetic yet grim reminder:
The Five Kingdoms stand upon the bones of older empires. Their peace is young, their wounds ancient. In the shadow of the Tower of Eternum, all things are bound, past, present, and what is yet to come.
Erik read on.
Astoria: The central kingdom of the continent, often called the heart of the known world. Founded from the ashes of the High Empire after its fall centuries ago. The histories are fragmented, but most scholars agree the Empire's collapse was orchestrated by the last great Dungeon Lord to threaten the continent, a being of such immense power that its true name is now a curse only whispered in the most forbidden texts. Ruled by House Zefilion, now by young King Alaric, who seeks to hold together a kingdom of merchants, nobles, and faith. The Guild and the Church of the Light act as stabilizing forces, though both harbor factions of their own. Capital: Silverkeep, a city of spires, intrigue, and the ancient Tower.
Velkor Dominion: A militant realm to the east. Warlords rule fractured territories. Supreme Warlord of Kael'Drak now rising in power, seeking unification. A constant threat to Astoria's eastern borders. Strength is law; honor forged in conquest.
Thalethar Confederacy: Merchant-princes rule with gold and guile. Located to the south along trade-rich coastlines. Spies and assassins as common as diplomats. Ancient pacts and dark dealings whispered in noble courts. Wealthiest of the kingdoms, but internally fragile.
Iskar Dominion: Across the Emerald Sea to the far south. Ruled by mage-lords known as the Council of Nine. Magic governs all, economy, law, and war. A land of wonders and horrors. The mages seek knowledge forbidden elsewhere. Tense relations with Astoria and the Guild.
Clans of Varnok: To the north, beyond the Frostspine Mountains. Clans of fierce warriors and mystics. Tribal, but bound by ancient oaths. Keepers of ruins older than the Five Kingdoms. Distrustful of southern kingdoms, but respected for their strength. Rumors speak of great spiritual power within their shamanic circles. Information is scarce, veiled behind the forbidding peaks of the Frostpine Mountains.
Erik sat back, mind spinning with the revelations. He understood the political geography—the five great powers that vied for dominance on this continent. He understood Astoria's place at its heart. But the book, for all its detail, never named the world itself. It spoke of kingdoms and continents, but what was the name of the place that contained them all?
He tried to grasp for a name for this entire reality, a word beyond 'the kingdoms' or 'the continent'. For a fleeting, dizzying instant, a word surfaced in his mind—sharp and clear as a crystal bell. The thought felt immense, foundational. But just as he reached for it, it dissolved like smoke, leaving behind a faint, prickling headache and the strange, unsettling feeling of having forgotten something he had always known.
He shook his head, the unease settling in his gut. His gaze drifted to Erythrael, resting beside him. If the path ahead leads into such depths, he thought grimly, I'll need more than strength. I'll need knowledge, and allies.
With that, he marked the pages and closed the books, eyes lingering a moment on the cover of the history tome. The Tower's silhouette was etched there in faded silver.