The Wheel Of Samsara - 102 Prologue

Shouts and laughter echoed abound coming from a two-storied building in the city of Expiria. The building, like many others in the western outskirts of the city, seemed to be falling apart. The white ink of yesteryear was so abused by the constant drizzle and the dusted winds that one could barely call it grey anymore. A few wooden boards were loosening from the walls, showing glimpses of the inside bustling with activity. The only thing that drew the eye in such a miserable building – just one among many others – was a shiny sign, depicting a lavishly painted blue dragon coiled around a silver jug. In gold, “The Drunken Dragon” was written beneath it, with the dragon’s tail resting above the letters.

“This ale is damn good!” A voice made itself heard among all the others, a surprising feat considering the noise that assaulted the ground floor nonstop.

The man that gave the shout slammed a wooden mug on the table in front of him, making it shake and creak dangerously. His muscles bulged from under his clothes, a shabby linen shirt whose sleeves had been ripped off and a leather vest that most likely served as a made-up armor. His tanned skin was a rare trait in the city where it almost never stopped raining, showing that he was an outsider. His shaved head exposed rough features, contrasted by a pair of turbid eyes that were darting around sneakily, assessing the surroundings.

A dozen or so more tables were placed around the ground floor, all occupied by at least three or more people, and all covered by mugs. A few waitresses were walking around the tables, taking orders and serving customers. Opposing the door to the pub, a wide counter seated a few more people as a bartender filled mugs nonstop, looking rather raggard from the unstoppable work. By his side, a tall wooden board was placed, almost hiding the stairs to the second floor. Various drawings and notices dangled from the board, from edicts of the citylord to bounty notices of various criminals.

“I told you, didn’t I?” A youth in front of him gave a satisfied smile, showing a few yellowed and crooked teeth and snatching back the man’s attention. “The ale from the Drunken Dragon has been regarded as one of the best in the city, on par with the stuff those damn stormlings drink in their sect.”

The youth was the complete opposite of the tanned man. His worn out clothes seemed to be a few sizes too big, making his already skinny body look even frailer. His greasy black hair came all the way down to his shoulders, covering most of his sickly pale face and barely exposing his beady eyes. In some ways, he resembled a rat, while the man in front of him resembled an ox.

“How come I haven’t heard of it before? I’ve done missions here not too long ago!” The tanned man took a long gulp from his mug, looking so desperate that one would take him for dying of thirst.

“This place hasn’t been around for long, just a couple of years. Despite that, it only really blew up a few weeks ago, when the owner decided to take this seriously. I heard he was a big shot in some other city, coming from a line of merchants. His family had the most luxurious pub in town, but he screwed up and had to turn tail and run,” the youth gave a quick glance to his sides, before leaning in and whispering the answer to the question he knew was about to come. “Word is he slept with the citylord’s daughter.”

“For real!?” The tanned man was incredulous.

“Not only that, he did so just to mess with the citylord, that was trying to bring trouble to his family’s business.” The youth’s voice was so low it was almost impossible to discern amidst the rukus around them. “Hugo, you have no idea. That guy is insane.”

“Insane? Such a man deserves my respect! Daring to sleep with a citylord’s daughter and doing so just to fuck with the guy on top of that! It takes balls the size of the Roaring Mountain!” The tanned man, Hugo, gave a hearty laugh before finishing the ale in his mug.

“Two more!” Hugo shouted to his side, drawing the attention of a waitress passing by.

Her bronze hair was neatly tied in a ponytail, contrasting with the azure dress she wore. It was a mostly plain piece of clothing that ended up in silver frills a bit above her knees. The waitress turned her hazelnut eyes to the man, before giving him a light nod and quickly walking away with a reddened face and a few beads of sweat rolling down her white face as she rushed to the counter. Hugo was momentarily struck by the sight, amazed at how good-looking the girl was.

“This place seems better off than what I thought,” Hugo pondered as he sneakily followed the waitress with his gaze. “The workers have a decent uniform and even her shoes seem to be pretty expensive,” He pointed at the waitress’ feet, covered by a pair of surprisingly delicate silver shoes. “Not to mention their appearance. You chose a good place, Ian.”

“Well, considering how this place is always full I wouldn’t be surprised, even more so if the owner brought as much money with him as they say.” Ian shrugged.

“Why bother with this run-down building, then?” Hugo asked, supporting his chin on his hands, never taking his eyes off the waitress. “I get it that such a horrible building would be cheap, but with that much money on his pocket he could have gone to something better, possibly drawing a richer clientele too.”

“Who knows? Maybe he wants to make a name in the city before going to a richer area, have some sort of foundation before competing with the big guys.” Ian pondered.

“Nah, that’s not it,” Hugo fatly rejected Ian’s thoughts. “Those proud nobles and those guys from Storm Peak would never lower themselves to enjoy something that started in the outskirts like this, sustained by scum and mercenaries like us. I’ve worked my fair share around the world to know how those guys act towards us.”

“Huh, didn’t think the cultivators from other sects would be as annoying as the stormlings.” Ian mumbled.

“Cultivators are all the same. Just like nobles. Just like us,” Hugo sighed. “Give sect cultivators a kowtow and they will be as happy as a noble with a kiss in the ass and us with money.”

“Well, I have no idea then,” Ian gave up.

“Anyway, let’s talk business. You said there was a job here, no?” Hugo finally took his eyes off the waitress and turned to Ian. “You better have something that makes my trip worth it, and even more so to stay around. I fucking hate rain.”

“Three days of work, the pay will be ten mid-grade elemental crystals.” Ian raised three fingers.

“What the fuck?” Hugo was dumbfounded. “What do they want us to do, rob the citylord?”

“Actually no. All we have to do is go to a fishing village to the west. Small place, no cultivators. As body tempering cultivators we would be gods there,” Ian smiled. “All we have to do is clean up the place.”

“Clean up?” Hugo raised a brow.

“Yeah. We either politely convince the villagers to leave or rough them up.”

“Whose orders?”

“Some noble. Rumor is that he wants to take a hold of the land to build a big port or something.

“I doubt the Storm Peak Sect will let this happen.”

“Word is the guy has a few stormlings on his pocket, they shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.”

“Why not convince the villagers to work for him, then? I am sure it would be way cheaper.”

“Not my problem.”

“Who else is going?”

“Possibly Stevens and Hawkings.”

“Sheesh, Hawkings? Might as well just hire street thugs.”

“Again, not my problem.”

“I don’t know, seems very suspicious.”

“This is a very private thing, to be done in secret. If you refuse the job you’ll possibly be taken care of.”

“By either Stevens or Hawkins, I’m sure,” Hugo grumbled for a while before sighing. “Fuck you Ian, look at the mess you dragged me to.

“Come on, it is not that bad.” Ian showed his crooked teeth through a disgusting smile.

“Is the paid guaranteed at least?” Hugo asked with annoyance.

“Yep, just show up, help throw them out and you get your share.”

“This makes no sense.”

“When has anything those nobles did make any sense to the likes of us?” Ian spat.

“You know what, fuck it, I’m in.” Hugo gave up on asking more questions. In the end, as he said himself, money was all that mattered. Money and his life.

Just at that moment, the bronze-haired waitress approached, holding a silver tray with two mugs filled to the brim with ale.

“Here you go, sir.” She placed the mugs on the table.

“Thank you.” Hugo sighed again.

“Come on, it won’t be that bad.” Ian tried to cheer him up.

“Here I thought you had a lead on that kid from the Abyss Sect, turns out you just wanted me to play a thug and beat up some poor villagers.” Hugo spat.

“Heh, that gray-haired freak? No one knows where he is, might as well try your luck hunting the Tyrell brat.” Ian scoffed.

“I am not insane, you know? I heard that brat killed two of his own and even made a run for it with a girl tagging along. If he could kill two of those stormlings and escape unscathed from the fucking Storm Peak Sect, what trash like me do against him?” Hugo was not amused. “At least the Abyss Sect kid is at body tempering, with him I would have a shot. For one hundred high-grade elemental crystals on top of that? Kid better pray for his luck, people will be chasing him to the ends of the world.”

“Well, you never know. The bounty notice is from one month ago, if he wasn’t found out yet we might have a shot.” Ian shrugged.

“He probably holed himself up in some forest and is trembling in fear. If he ever shows his mug around, he is done,” Hugo sneered. “But I doubt that will happen. Kid that stupid wouldn’t have managed to cause that much trouble in the first place. If you wanna try your luck be my guest, I can even help you out: I narrowed down his whereabouts to anywhere but the Abyss Sect.”

“No need to be a cunt about it. Anyway, you accept the job?” Ian asked, extending a hand to Hugo over the table.

Hugo furrowed his brows for a moment, before drinking a mug of ale in a single gulp and taking the hand. “Whatever, it’s not my first time doing this anyway.”

As they finished their business, the bronze-haired waitress was still serving other tables, but slowly getting closer to the stairs leading to the second floor. As soon as she felt it had been enough, she walked up the stairs very naturally.

Walking down a hallway, she gently knocked on the door at the end of it.

“Come in.” A charming voice answered her. She sheepishly pushed the door open, revealing a wide room.

A few candles were placed across a central table that could sit twelve, just enough to occupy most of the room. The light of the candles flickered nonstop with the breeze coming from an open window on the eastern wall, showing a sky darkened by grey clouds and the broken roofs of hastily put together houses and buildings. If the Drunken Dragon was looking like it was slowly degrading, those houses looked like they were about to fall apart. Dusty winds made the boards on their walls creak dangerously, and some were so unstable they looked like they danced with the coming of the wind, preparing to fly away with it at any moment. At this point, it was doubtful the owners dared to stay inside them during the constant rain, as they for sure would be drenched in their living rooms and quarters in a matter of moments.

Two men and a woman were sitting at the table, but only the woman seemed to be doing anything at all. She was slouched over the table, examining carefully a parchment map spread over it, and slowly drawing circles and lines with a quill. Her flaxen hair cascaded over her shoulders, shining with the candlelight and falling over her face. She blew it out of the way with a bit of annoyance, putting a few strands behind her ear and revealing her face. A pair of charming hazelnut eyes drew one’s gaze in, framed by a heart-shaped face and a somewhat pointy nose. A jade bracelet could be seen on her right wrist, a good match to the green dress she wore, despite how plain it was. Her brows were slightly furrowed, and her lips were a bit pursed as she looked at the map pensively.

By her side, a young man was lazily stretched over a chair, with both feet crossed over the table. A jug of ale was close by, half-filled. In his hands, a mug went up and down constantly as he took hearty gulps now and then. His wavy black hair was cut short, but even so, it was still so messy it resembled a bird’s nest. The young man had his eyes closed, looking very relaxed as he mumbled something to himself. He had a well-defined chin and gentle features, giving him a handsome look and a somewhat magnetic appearance only accentuated by a very imposing, Romanesque nose. A single ring adorned his left hand, a worn-out silverware that wouldn’t usually draw one’s attention. Wearing grey pants and a simple white shirt, the only thing that truly looked luxurious on him was a blue vest embroidered with silver threads.

“Master Alan,” the waitress gave a small bow as she approached the young man.

Alan opened his eyes and beckoned her to approach with a gentle smile on his thin lips. She carefully leaned by his ear and whispered something.

“Oh, that. No need to worry, I heard it when they said it,” Alan’s smile widened a bit. “You may go back to attending the tables, Triss, no need to worry.”

As the waitress left, he let out a troubled sigh, before directing his attention to the woman by his side. “Nessa, looks like Hugo and Ian will join Stevens and Hawkings on the raid to the fishermen’s village.”

She gave an almost imperceptible nod as she drew a sheet of paper already scribbled halfway through and added a few names to it. She then returned her attention to the map, putting the quill down and analyzing the lines and circles she had drawn before.

“So, any news on the boy?” The remaining man in the room asked with a hoarse voice.

He had dark circles around his brown eyes, and a few wrinkles were already sprinkling his middle-aged face, making him look very tired. His greyed out hair was swept back, showing the dark lines creasing his brows and bringing one’s attention to his aquiline nose, that was slightly bent to his right. No doubt the result of entering a fist fight and not receiving proper medical care afterwards. A very common occurrence in the western side of the city. Thick, dark-green pants covered his lower body, being accentuated by shiny, brand-new leather boots. His linen shirt was simple, but kept clean and spotless, being covered by a layer of hardened leather armor. The shaft of a short spear peeked from behind his right shoulder, being strapped to the shoulder-pad of his armor. He looked like a seasoned hunter through and through.

“None at all,” Alan took his feet out of the table and sat straight. “Rumors are popping up all over the Western Continent, it is hard keeping track of what might have some truth and what is complete bullshit.”

“It always is,” the hunter spat. “Which is why I hoped you of all people would know something.”

“Sorry Zen. I would like some extra money as much as you, but today is not the day.” Alan smiled apologetically. “On the other hand, despite a few bumps in the road, I am happy to say to you that our plans have been working out nicely.”

“Are you really pushing forward with it?” Zen’s lips curled up.

“Why not? Crashing the Expiria Auction and screwing that citylord of ours would be pretty good, I’m not gonna lie.” Alan smiled deviously.

“Any changes on the plan given the new information?”

“Not really. Why, any advice?”

“You might want to ditch that sign of yours. People in this city usually don’t take lightly to any kind of offense to the Dragon Clan.” Zen gave Alan a meaningful glance.

“Well, it’s the third sign already, might as well leave it be. If the stormlings or the Dragon Clan itself have any trouble with my humble pub they are welcome to come complain to my face.” Alan sneered, looking out the open window.

Far into the east, above the horizon, the grey clouds covering the city of Expiria darkened as they approached a barely visible mountain range, turning pitch black. While Expiria had constant wind and rain, the area belonging to the Storm Peak Sect was enveloped in a perennial storm.

“Don’t step on the dragon’s tail.” Zen gave Alan a last warning before turning around to leave without another word.

“Don’t be so cold. Here, you can take it as a gift, it’s your favorite.” Alan pointed at the half-filled jug over the table.

“If you feel like being generous you might as well give me a barrel.” Zen sneered.

“Well, look at that, aren’t we bold?” Alan scoffed before waving his hands dismissively. “Whatever, ask Triss for it and go fetch it at the back. Next time you are paying, though.”

“Cheers to you!” Zen waved goodbye and left the room.

“What an asshat.” ‘Alan’ complained, sprawling all over his chair.

“It feels kinda good seeing you being taken advantage off.” Nessa finally took her eyes off the map and gave Alan a bemused look.

“As if you don’t do that all the time.” Alan snorted as he crossed his arms, displeased. Nessa gave a hearty laugh as she walked to him.

“So, let’s be real, why bother with a guy like that?” Nessa inquired, sitting by his side.

“That guy can take down a dire wolf by himself, despite being just at body tempering. His experience and ability is second to none.”

“I know that, but he works for the citylord. I want to know why take the risk of exposing our plans. As far as I know he might be loyal to the citylord and is just pretending to both get our services and have something to use against us if we step out of line.”

“That’s exactly what he is doing, you know?” Alan’s eyes narrowed. “As for why I still am playing along… the best way to create an opening during a fight is to pretend you have one yourself.”

“I don’t get why you like playing such games.” Nessa gave a hopeless sigh.

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“It brings no joy to be straightforward. It would be too simple, too bland. I would rather have some fun while doing what I need.” Alan shrugged before pointing at the map on the table. “Anyway, did you find something?”

“Not really. As you said, rumors are coming from everywhere. Not only in the Western Continent, even in the Northern and the Southern Continents too. Specially from the south.” She pondered for a while, charmingly resting her chin in her hands. “Why do you take an interest on that Amon kid anyway? It’s not like we need the money.”

“It’s nothing in particular. It is just that after digging around for some info I feel what happened to him was similar to what happened to us,” Alan lowered his eyes. “I feel we might as well try to find him. That way we can either get an ally or more money.”

As he was about to answer, Alan suddenly flinched. His brown eyes suddenly changed, turning a bright silver for a moment. He buried his face on his hands, shivering as he took deep breaths. Nessa leaned in, giving him a hug as he slowly calmed down.

“You can stay here and rest, I’ll take care of thing downstairs,” she proposed worriedly.

“It’s fine, I just lost focus for a moment. If only I had a second glamour bracelet…” Alan sighed, still clenching his head. His silver eyes slowly darkened, turning brown again.

Nessa uncomfortably put a hand around the jade bracelet on her wrist, feeling guilty.

Seeing this, Alan smiled gently. “No need to feel guilty, it can’t be helped. I might as well use this opportunity to train.”

“Don’t overdo it.” Nessa gently put a hand on his cheek. “Rest a bit, I’ll take care of things.”

Without waiting his answer, she left the room, leaving him by himself. Alan looked a bit troubled as he put a hand on his pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it revealed a drawing depicting a boy on his teens with bizarre ashen hair and golden eyes. Some information was written below the drawing, detailing his cultivation stage, crimes of treason and the exaggerated reward of one hundred high-grade elemental crystals issued by the Abyss Sect if the boy was returned to them dead or alive.

“What a mess. Worst of all, his drawing is better than mine.” Derek Tyrell lamented, looking out the window again. The wind coming through the window was turning colder, and Derek could faintly smell the scent of humid earth. Soon enough, a faint pelting started echoing from outside. In the city of Expiria, it started raining again.