Just outside the western gate of Valar, lay a walled field almost half as big as the city itself, the Yuran field. It was the place where the army garrisoned within the city usually trained. Today, however, the usual sight of men in armour running together, riding horses and practising their weapons weren’t there, instead, a different view covered this piece of land. The tools of the military had disappeared and Red, blue, yellow, green, many colourful tents raised above its grassy grounds like wildflowers, small stalls scattered throughout those camps sold various foods and other items, jesters and performers performed their arts.

The capable men and women who had arrived at Valar to respond to the call of her majesty, queen Shaela Arnet gathered on this field today. They scattered throughout the field, either alone or in clusters, some enjoying the entertainments, some wandering through them, some even locked in confrontations. The place brimmed with excitement today. Because today was the day of the quest initiation ceremony.

“Does your uncle know you want to join the quest?” Erhan asked Arban as they walked in through the gates of the field.

Arban’s head swung around as his eyes tried to drink in the festivities around him. “I’d tell him if I meet him,” he said with an air of nonchalance.

“Your aunt?”

“Yeeaaus…” Arban said in a weird drawn-out voice.

“So you didn’t tell anyone.” Erhan nodded. He gave the boy a curious stare and said, “if I remember correctly, you tried to pull something similar when I visited your shop in Garola, didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Arban said, jerking his head back to look toward Erhan. “I got permission from my father,”

“Which I helped you get,” Erhan said. “Yeah, I know that, but I don’t think I could help you much here.”

Arban glowered at him suspiciously. “You won’t try to stop me, would you?”

Erhan sighed and shook his head. He walked up to a stall selling grilled ham. Handing Arban one of the plates he bought, he said, “I don’t usually stop people from doing something they want to do. But I’d still advise you against it.”

Arban clomped down on the piece of meat with an irritated face. “So many people are going to go. Even people my age aren’t that rare. Why do all of you want to stop me? Do you think I’m not strong enough?” he chewed the words out along with the food. “I grew up in a smithy. I’m skilled in every weapon I tell you.”

“While I don’t doubt your… skills,” Erhan said in a doubtful tone, “the depth of the dreaming mountains aren’t somewhere that’s fun to travel to. The air there is cold enough to freeze your bones. All manners of aggressive wild animals make their home there. Not to mention…” he stopped there.

If there was one thing he never wanted to face again, it was those, the Nightless. Only one of them had been enough to kill seven people from the team of ten who went hunting down the creature. All of them as powerful as he had been in his prime. The three remaining people, including Arya and him, only survived because something else had drawn it away, though he didn’t know what. But the creature had left its mark on the chest then, and although he was ashamed to admit it, in the recesses of his mind. That’s why he’d rather avoid that topic.

“Don’t worry,” Arban finished the last morsel and threw away the plate on the grass. “If I meet them I’ll chop their heads off.”

“Don’t litter,”

“Oh, come on,” Arban spread his hands in a wide gesture. “Look at everyone around you. All of them are doing it.” he looked down and sighed. “People are filthier than animals sometimes.”

“Hmm, I see. So you are ignoring the fact that you are one of them.” Erhan observed. He looked up at the sky. There was still an hour or two until midday when the ceremony is supposed to start. So maybe he’ll check out one of the performances around the field. Though most of them about one war or another, there were a few that were better.

Shaela Arnet, the queen of Robera, arrived at the Yuran field on a golden chariot, drawn by four great white warhorses. Her hair flowed down to her waist like a black river, her eyes like burning golden flames sat on a sculpted, oval face. A green velvet cloak covered her figure. A gold and silver diadem encrusted with rubies and emeralds sat on her forehead, enhancing her beauty for which wars had erupted.

Her ministers and nobles along with their knights accompanied her on their horses. Sena was also with them. She rode while halfheartedly conversing with youngsters of noble houses around the country who had arrived at Valar for the same reason as her. From time to time her eyes ran over the crowd that started to gather around the procession. But searching for a particular face amongst a crowd of almost five thousand was no easy task. Especially, since Erhan didn’t try to be conspicuous.

The cavalcade arrived at the largest and gaudiest cluster of tents in the middle of the field beside a round stone podium. The queen came down from the chariot and entered a huge red and green tent embroidered on the sides with the depiction of golden voros. Her advisors and ministers also walked in with her for a last-minute discussion before the start of the ceremony.

Erhan watched the back of a man disappear into the tent from afar. He was the only person who wore a relatively simple piece of garment, a pale green robe. He stood out amongst the others not only because of his garb though. To Erhan in particular, he appeared a man full of mysteries.

Although he looked in his nineties, Erhan could tell that was a disguise. His appearance should be no older than Erhan’s and his age should be many times greater than his. The man reminded him of some of his greatest teachers among both the sadhus and kapalics.

What was a man of his caliber doing here?

“That old looking man who went inside the tent, who is he?” he asked Arban who was craned neck as far as he could over the heads of the crowd, trying to see as much of the queen as possible.

“The green-robed one?” Arban absently replied. “Oh, that’s lord Giraldi. A great man. Advises the queen and stuff. Though someday I’ll take his job away.” he ended with a mumble.

“So, he is Giraldi. Truly a great man,” Erhan said to himself. He crossed his arms in front of himself and pondered. A man like that involving himself in mundane affairs must have a goal. None of his actions should be beyond his intentions. Then informing the queen of the location of the Book of Dreams, what are his intentions in doing that?

A great fire rose above the stone podium. Its red and golden tongues licking up six to seven yards in the air. Four men sat along the four corners of the fire facing the four directions, east, west, north, and south. The ornaments made of jewels, precious metals, and teeth and fangs of various animals they wore, cut a jarring contrast against their frugal clothing. Those weren’t there for decoration though. They were charms. They sat with legs crossed, as Erhan did during meditations, each of them holding a staff of blackened wood straight beside them. Those staffs weren’t true lightning imbued staff like Erhan’s, but ordinary sticks of wood with their surface charred over cremation fire.

The so-called ‘druids’. Erhan smiled to himself. Those were no druids, though they had some relation to the druids. But what they practised was actually a hodgepodge of druidic arts and some other magics from beyond Clover, like voodooism, shamanism and such. They were undisciplined and self-taught people who can’t go beyond the basic of arts of any of them. But to the ordinary folk of clover, they

So the queen called them for the ceremony. It wasn’t unexpected though, as true druids rarely performed anything but the greatest ceremonies. And although today’s ceremony could also be considered a great one, it was for an expedition to the Dreaming mountains. That was a sacred place for druids. Although they wouldn’t outright denounce the ceremony, they wouldn’t perform it either.

Erhan didn’t particularly care for the mountains or the ceremony. He had a goal. A final goal. And that was all that mattered.

“Bring in the sacrifices!” said the druid with white hair reaching his chest who faced the western sky just as the last point of the sun disappeared beneath it.

A group of four soldiers led a cluster of sheep, goats, cows and horses toward the podium as the four men in the corner stood up. A knight came forward holding a long tray covered in red velvet clothing. The white-bearded man removed the cover and picked up a curved scimitar.

He gestured the soldiers and one of them drew one of the four horses forward. As if aware of its looming fate, the creature neighed and shook its body apprehensively, hesitant to go forward. It would have bolted if not for the strength of the soldier holding the rope around its neck.

The druid drew out the scimitar from its sheath and raised it. The reflection of the flame glittered on its surface for a moment before he brought it down on the creature’s scruff. Blood splashed forward from the horse's neck like a tide breaking through a dyke. Its head fell down with a thud. Its body, twitching and thrashing, also tried to buckle, only for the soldier to hold it up, leaving it standing as the four druids pushed forward a huge waist-high stone cauldron, letting the blood still warm with its remaining spark of life trickle into it.

The other animals started moving restlessly. They had seen the fate of their companion. They knew that would also be their fate. But they could do nothing to prevent it.

“That… is cruel,” Arban said as he looked down at the ground, trying to erase the scene of the animal’s heads getting chopped off one by one.

“Didn’t you quite like chopping heads off?” Erhan asked as he watched the sacrifice ceremony gradually draw to a close. Although to say he wasn’t bothered by it would be a bit of a stretch, he was too used to it to care. “You’ve talked about it a lot ever since we came to the capital.”

“Well, when Han chopped that crocodile’s head off, I thought it was really cool.” he took a quick glance at the sacrificed bodies of the animals piled up by the fire and whirled his head away again. “I mean, the blood… there wasn’t so much of it then, what’s with the river and all. And It was so tense then. The crocodiles were chasing us, trying to eat you. Not like this.” he sighed. “Those poor animals.”

Erhan listens to Arban’s speech as he nodded. “Yeah, those animals are poor,” he said as he turned and walked away from the fire. “Sacrificing them wouldn’t really have any kind of significant impact. The best effects I’ve seen, are from sacrificing humans.”

“Human sacrifices?” Arban who was walking with him was taken aback. “Have you seen human sacrifices?”

Erhan stopped and looked up to see the rising evening star as he said, “I’ve done them.”

Arban’s eyes widened took a step back. “Really? You mean…” he made a chopping motion towards his neck.

Erhan nodded. “Right, like that. But that was a long time ago.”

Araban took a sharp breath as he looked everywhere but him. “Hmm,” he said as he turned back, hurrying towards the fire despite himself.

Erhan chuckled to himself. Maybe the boy would be manageable now. But each people are so different. Even though she was only five or six years old, Ellie used to hear the same gruesome feats of his youth with such interest.

He bit down on his lips. The mood that had just lifted after conversing with Arban, soured again. He took a deep breath and exhaled out, “Well, let’s think about happier times... happier times.”

After the sacrifice, the great blessing ceremony started. As the four druids slowly circled around the fire, muttering their mantras and pouring goblet full of animal blood into the fire, a stench of burning blood wafted through the field. But not only the smell, but there was also a tingling static-like sensation spread through the air that even normal people could sense.

Erhan narrowed his eyes. Along with the blessing, there was some kind of restraining effect in this art. As if to monitor them and some other effects that were unclear to even him. It was a complex sort of art that those four druids shouldn’t be capable of performing. Even he himself would have difficulty performing this alone. Then who was behind this art?

If the queen really wanted the troublemakers gone from her kingdom, then she wouldn’t want to keep an eye on them or restrain them. Not to mention if she didn’t even want the artefact, why would she waste resources to perform such complex art on them. However, if not her, then who?

He looked over at the front of the royal tent where the queen stood with her entourage. Although most people beside her either wrinkled their noses or put handkerchiefs on them, the queen remained as impassive as ever. Her expression, a blend of fortitude and nonchalance, impressed Erhan. But he looked at the man standing beside her. Bent like the decrepit old man he looked, Giraldi’s face had a lax, carefree expression that seemed different than everyone else.

Was it him? What exactly are his intentions?

Erhan rapped his staff on the ground. Anyway, although it would be slightly difficult, he should be able to free himself from most of the art’s effects. The art dispersed throughout the whole field, its effects were relatively weaker, but the casting was quite a complex one. Erhan wouldn’t be able to stop this through defending forcefully. He closed his eyes and started to mutter, stringing each piece of mantra with the other. He created a complex web of obscure syllables to defend against the complex net of art trying to snare him.

As the back and forth between the arts continued, sweat appeared on his forehead. Guarding against The art was harder than he thought. If not for the sub-standard delivery of the so-called druids, his act would have to be a lot more eye-catching than this. And at the end, he might have to take another one month break from spirit casting due to blood loss. But even now it was like playing chess against an opponent who could anticipate most of his moves.

The art’s effect captured the attention of almost every other person in the fields, so no one noticed Erhan’s silent struggles, except for one person. Giraldi tilted his head as his eyes pierced the darkness to look through Erhan. Oh! A true druid. What was one of those recluses doing all the way here? They shouldn’t have any interest in the quest. Besides, for such a young fellow, the druid had considerable skill and power. And he looked like one who’s been out of practice for years. Was he the one...

Giraldi considered for a while. Should he involve himself? After a while, he shook his head. There was no need for that.

Half an hour later, Erhan breathed out in relief. It took a while to end. That was Exhausting. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His clothes were also soaking wet. Though the blood loss wasn’t much as it was a relatively mild spiritcasting, he was still a bit pale around the edges.

He clenched his hand. The art was too complex. He wasn’t completely successful in warding it off. Some of the effects might still affect him. The worst part was, he didn’t know which ones they were.

“Here you are,” Sena’s loud voice woke him from his musings. The young woman came jogging towards him with a helpless looking Arban in tow. “What are you doing standing around here? The team deciding has already begun.”

Erhan gave her a measuring look. “So, despite Arakan’s warning, you’re still going?” he asked.

“Aren’t you?”

Erhan nodded. “Fair enough, but I need to go there. You, on the other hand, don’t.”

Sena shrugged. “I just want to. Besides, it’d be a good experience.”

“Ok, then,” Erhan said as he walked with her towards the podium.

Although he didn’t know how the queendom was deciding the teams. Judging by the fact that each participant of the quest had to register their name, age and some other details and presence of the druids, it was probably some kind of divination. He had never been good with those.