Hylore – Seahold (Noreland Capital) Spring 2344 AS

  Day 15

  I had just returned to my room and was relaxing on the bed. Acolyte Mandolin had come to see me yesterday, as it was Worshipday, to know if I wished to attend the ceremonies at the Mother's Temple. I was able to beg off attending as I was still recovering from the black rat fever.

  The black rat fever was gone, and all of my armour was being repaired. I will be collecting it tomorrow. It had cost me seventeen silver system coins, but it was well worth it. That leaves me with thirty-nine silver in total, which was not as much as I hoped.

  Today was a day of rest, otherwise.

  I opened The Chronicle to see what was being said and find out what was happening. This would represent the first contact with the other crusaders. Opening the file, I saw a translucent blue screen appear in my line of sight.

  The banner at the top read "The Crusader Chronicle."

  The first section was an opening piece by the new editor, welcoming all third-wave members to the world and this publication. It apologised for the bare-bones layout of this first edition, as they were still setting up and looking for contributors to help with future issues.

  I read through this section and the first articles, but didn't see anything of great interest. It was all about cultural differences and how to interact with the locals in different areas. Some did give information on how to fight global threats, but nothing serious had been engaged yet on the scale of eldritch horrors.

  One thing that did concern me was the death count. In the top corner, just under the banner, there was an account labelled 'The Death Count'. It was sitting at 43. That meant that 43 crusaders were already dead, and we were only just two weeks into this. I shook my head, wondering what the hell they were doing, killing themselves so quickly. I suspected that they were the ones who didn't listen to the briefings and warnings and dived straight in, thinking it was some form of computer game. Well, they learned the hard way that it wasn't.

  Thankfully, there was still a massive queue of people trying to join the crusade. That 43 would have already been replaced by now. To maintain the hundred thousand crusaders stationed around the world.

  I kept going down the list of different stories and articles. One, however, did catch my attention, and I read it carefully.

  Who is the first?

  Hello, fellow crusaders. I've been speaking to many of our kind, and I have decided to station myself there. Like many of you, I decided to go for the more temperate and pleasant regions of this world to live in. The part of the world I'm living in is very similar to the Mediterranean and very agreeable to my needs.

  Getting to know the others is quite a revelation, as we are from all over the world. I have met people from countries and cultures I never thought I would encounter. That's not counting the locals, even though it has also been another eye-opener.

  Back on earth, I never had the opportunity to travel. Living in America, I never saw the point in travelling beyond the borders. Everything I needed was there. But now I'm encountering so much and seeing more. I realise how much I missed out and I am trying to make up for it now.

  One night around a bonfire, my group and I were talking when someone mentioned their serial number. This got us all to reveal ours, and we were all in the thousands. Gregory, who posed the original question, spoke about what he knew of the founder of the third wave. He knew very little, but he was sure whoever held that number was the one who conceived the idea of the third wave. That led to a question.

  Who holds number one?

  I don't know about you, dear reader, but I am very interested in speaking with that person or meeting with them. I don't know about you, but I would love to know how they came up with this idea and thank them for the second chance we are all getting.

  Sure, we have to deal with eldritch horrors and monsters, but for one, I am grateful that even with the challenges, I get to be alive and active again.

  So if anyone knows who it is that The Chronicle know, because I suspect they have got one hell of a story.

  Thanks for reading.

  Michelle Johnson.

  I finished the article. "That's not going to happen. Ever."

  I kept reading and then reached the ratings tables. There were five tables in total: wealth, titles, great deeds, legendary gear and level. Wealth was the first and easiest to understand, representing how much money a crusader had amassed over the time they had been here. Why this was the first table or even a table at all, I didn't really understand, as I was not here for the money but a second chance at life and to try to do some good. But it seems our world's obsession with material wealth has followed us. I did not think I would be on it, but I scanned the list of 10 names anyway. I wasn't and felt grateful as I moved on.

  Titles was an easier one to understand. This represented System titles earned through our actions and deeds. We all held the crusader title, so in count, but I checked the list and found only one name and nine empty sections. Minh Ly was the only name on the list, with a single additional title. They had earned "Compassionate Soul." No other details were given.

  Great deeds were a bit more nebulous. It represented actions taken by crusaders that were recognised by both the system and the population. This meant you had to do something like defend the city or slay a great beast in front of witnesses to be recognised by this table. So far, it was empty.

  Legendary gear was simple enough. If you had earned an item that was rated legendary, you were put onto this list. Again, it was empty. If anyone had discovered such an item so far, they were not reporting it, or, like me, had chosen to remain anonymous.

  The final table, of course, was level. That was the simplest one to understand and was linked to our System-acknowledged character level. I checked the first number on this list and let out a sigh of relief as it was five. I read down the list, realising that the top seven people rated were all level five, so I was safe being a level three.

  It was interesting to touch base with the others this way, but ultimately, there was nothing there that could help or hinder me. I will keep reading The Chronicle, as it has been a way to stay informed about global events. If I ever appeared on any of those tables, something seriously has gone wrong.

  I dismissed the screen and sat up on my bed. My feet are on the floor now, and I look across the room to my desk—the box I found in the rooms linked to the sewer system. I had cleaned it up and checked the keys I had seen, but they didn't work on the lock. I thought at first the lock was clogged or jammed, but I realised the keys were not the right ones.

  The box was made of high-quality wood, with brass hinges and a lock. The brass was tarnished but still identifiable. The box had a brass-filled crest engraved on it. I did not recognise the crest. I would investigate whether the owners were still alive. Breaking the box and claiming its contents was an option, but I wasn't taking it.

  I stood up and walked over to the table, thinking about the problem I now have to deal with.

  How did I identify the family crest?

  The answer became apparent to me. I was considered a bit strange when I worked there because if I didn't know something, I asked for more information. I was not one of those who tried to hide their ignorance or misunderstanding of the problem; if I was out of my depth, I said so.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I turned and headed out of the room and down the stairs. I walked over to the bar and spoke to one of the bartenders. "Is Isabel around today?"

  "Yes, she is in the back. Give me a minute." He stopped cleaning the bar top and walked into the back through the curtain. After a few minutes, he returned with Isabel following.

  "Good morning, Hector. Why are you looking for me?" After the bar brawl, she had become a lot less formal with me and dropped the title use while we addressed each other.

  "I was hoping that you could help me. I discovered a box in one of my recent quests that bears a family crest. I was hoping to return the box to the family that owns it, if possible. Do you know of any way for me to identify the crest?"

  "A family crest? You could head up to the noble section of the city and check out the library there. They will have all the family crests in their books." She looked thoughtful as she spoke.

  "Can you tell me where it is?"

  She gave me the address. I thanked her and walked back to my room. I closed the door behind me, but didn't go to the desk; instead, I went to the window. I'd opened the outer shutters earlier and rechecked the sky. Slightly overcast, but I didn't think it would rain. Living my entire life in Britain had taught me how to read clouds to predict rainfall.

  It was still quite early in the day, and I knew I could reach the noble section of the city. I opened up my map and entered the address. The icon appeared with the route to get it through the streets. I wrapped the box up in a piece of cloth and carried it out of the room. Once the doors locked, I left the tavern and began my journey.

  I walked through the streets, taking in the sights and the people. I moved at a fair pace and soon crossed into the merchant section. I would have to go through the merchant section and pass the Coliseum to reach the noble section of the city. As I walked, the Coliseum grew larger in my sight. I had often seen it from a distance, but this was going to be the closest I've ever been to it.

  It wasn't long until I reached the building. It was about the same size as the famous Colosseum in Rome. It lacked the elaborate statues that the original had and was far plainer in its construction. It was ancient, with many areas showing repair work dating back decades or more. It was quiet around the building right now as there were no competitions or fights until the evening. Sonday was when most significant events took place outside specific festival days. Today was Labourday and the Coliseum was nearly completely closed.

  As I passed the building, I decided I needed to attend at least one event, just for the experience. So far, I've been too busy dealing with quests and black rat fever. Near the edge of the building, I found a wooden board with flyers attached, and I glanced at them as I walked, then stopped.

  I walked up to the flyers and reread them carefully this time. They were the Coliseum runners offering any unregistered fighters the opportunity to compete in the low events for a prize purse. They all hinted that anyone who succeeded had the chance to be approached by the noble houses that operated fighter stables and be recruited into them for greater wealth and prestige.

  I snorted out the idea of me on the Coliseum sands. If I became desperate for money, that was an option, but I would do my best to avoid it at all costs.

  I walked on and soon reached the noble section of the city. There were two clear signs that I had changed into another part of the city. The first homes around me were much larger and walled, with gardens. The second was that the road I was walking suddenly angled upwards as I began climbing the hill on which the section was built. At the very top of the mountain stood the old fortress, held by the noble family that ruled the nation. Thankfully, the building I was looking for was not that high up, but it was a large structure not far into the section.

  I approached the front of the building and the columns that flank the doorway. The building had a strong Gothic feel like the rest of the city, but also hinted at a more classical Greco-Roman style with multiple wings and columns.

  I walked up the steps and through the two large open doors into a lobby. Everything here screams of wealth and money. I was getting some looks as I entered the building from the staff and the patrons, who are all far better dressed than I am. I looked around and found a receptionist section and headed over to it.

  There were several large doors leading out of the room; one was open. Beyond, I could see rows and rows of bookshelves, and it was clear I was in the right place.

  The woman looked up as I approached, and her smile stayed, but I could see the disdain for someone of lower stature. I spoke first.

  "Good day, Madam. I'm seeking help in identifying a family crest on a box I recently discovered." I fell into the polite and formal tone used for strangers.

  "You are….?" She was not impolite, but the disdain for me was apparent. She was trying to gauge my social status to decide how vital my request was.

  "Adventurer." I showed her the System tattoo on my right hand. "Adventurer Hector."

  That changes things. Adventurers held a certain level of social status in all societies. As long as they were in good standing, they were held with respect. And those adventurers who had fallen from good standing are well known and infamous throughout their local areas and societies.

  "Of course, Adventurer Hector. We are most happy to help you with your search." She sat up quickly, realising that I was someone to be dealt with and not pawned off to someone else or ignored. "Please wait here while I go and find a Librarian to assist you."

  She quickly got up and headed off to one of the doorways. This gave me a good chance to look at the room. It was around the lobby with four doors. One was the entrance and exit, and the other three led into different parts of the building. Tall columns were spaced regularly around the room, and I saw people coming and going. The columns appear to be made of black marble with white veins. There were six receptionist desks in this room, and they were all busy. The ceiling was domed, with large windows that let in lots of light. The floor was tiled in black and white, with a large, expensive-looking pattern. Black and white was the dominant colour scheme throughout the space.

  As I continued to look around, I noticed that the receptionist had returned with the small man following her. He appeared to be in his 60s, worn, wearing glasses and an expensive-looking suit. His attitude and body posture screamed bookworm. I noticed that many men and women were walking around in similar outfits, and I think they were the librarians' uniforms.

  "Greetings, Adventurer Hector. I am Librarian Harold. I've been told that you are seeking to identify a family crest that you have discovered on an item." He sounded like an academic. But if he could give me the information I needed, I would be most happy.

  "Indeed, Librarian Harold." I held out the box wrapped in cloth and unwrapped it to shorten the crest. "This is the crest I'm looking to identify and return this box to its owners."

  He looked at the crest on the box and frowned slightly. "It is indeed a Noreland crest from its design. But I am unfamiliar with their family. Please follow me."

  He turned on his heel and began walking towards one of the large sets of doors, and I followed. When he reached them, he opened them, and I was surprised how easily he did so. The doors must be exceptionally well-balanced and oiled to open so easily.

  He motioned for me to enter, and I did. I was in one of the wings of the building, and the floor-to-ceiling was nothing but bookshelves. The building was three stories tall with an open space in the middle and walkways around, all of which were loaded with bookshelves. Tables ran the length of the open space, with large windows built into the ceiling to let in light. The room smelled of paper and parchment, and all the furniture was of deep, dark, expensive-looking wood.

  "This way, Adventurer Hector." Librarian Harold walked past me as I was gaping at the room. I suspect he was used to the reactions of many who saw the room for the first time.

  I quickly followed him to a table. "Please place the box here."

  I did so, unwrapping it to give him a clear view of the crest and the box. He reached over and began to inspect the crest with his fingers. Muttering to himself under his breath slightly.

  "Interesting. Old family crest. Definitely pre-modern age." I was able to make up most of what he was saying.

  He looked up and spoke to me directly. "A most interesting box, Adventurer Hector. Please be seated while I seek out several books that we will need."

  Before I could say anything, he quickly turned and walked off into the rows of bookshelves. When nothing else to do, I sat down. Each of its seats around me was of the same dark wood, heavily padded. Everything around here screamed of money. I suspect that selling this chair would net me enough money to live quite comfortably for several months.

  I watched the locals moving around. Most were librarians, but I caught many others, mostly nobles, from the quality of the clothing. A few can be wealthy merchants, but I suspected that even they would find it hard to gain access to this place.

  I was getting a few odd looks, but being allowed here meant I was approved. It was nearly half an hour before Librarian Harold returned, carrying several large, heavy tomes. He was followed by a young girl about eighteen carrying several more books.

  They were all placed on the desk next to the box. The girl nodded to the senior librarian and quickly vanished, giving me a look first. I noticed a bit of an odd look from some of the younger librarians. I suspected that they do not encounter many adventurers here. Probably read about adventurous exploits in their books, but it was odd to see one in real life.

  Librarian Harold began flicking through the books one at a time, trying to match the crest's design to those displayed on the pages. He continued to mutter to himself as he did so, but I could not hear him this time. He went from book to book, and as he did so, each one became older.

  It was in the fifth book that he found the match.

  "Here we are, Adventurer Hector." He proudly pointed to the crest on the page that matched the one on top of the box. "House Ironbreaker. An ancient one."

  "House Ironbreaker. Does the house still exist?" As I asked, leaning over, looking at the crest and the family history written there. I didn't get to see much of it before the librarian, Harold, closed the book.

  "I do not know, Adventurer Hector. Please wait here for more while I check for you." He turned and disappeared again quite quickly. He was rather spry for his age, I realised as I watched him walk away. He took the book with the family crest away with him.

  He was gone for another 10 minutes, but when he returned, he carried a small piece of paper. He handed me a card with an address on it. "Here, adventurer Hector is the last known address of the family."

  "Thank you, Librarian Harold, for all your assistance," I said honestly, as his assistance was significant to me in finding the crest's family.

  "We live to serve." He spoke, bowing slightly with his hand on his chest. He seemed actually quite surprised that I thanked him.

  I updated my HUD map with the address, and it changed. I set off from the library, following it to its destination.