The king called for a state of emergency, summoning all of the knights willing to take up the task of saving the princess from an unexpected traitor. You are but one of the many called upon by his majesty. Should you succeed in rescuing the princess, you would be rewarded rather handsomely: a promotion, land, riches, anything within the king's power to save his only heir. Once the meeting adjourned, you were sent to the town near the tower where the princess is being held captive. To think that a milquetoast and humble town would be so close to the suspicious tower, how unfortunate for them. Where would you like to go?
You were immediately greeted by the smell of alchohol, the smell of today's stew and menu, loud chattering, and the sound of lute and singing. This is the town's tavern; lively and bustling with patrons that range from ordinary townsfolk, weary travelers. You sat at an empty bar stool by the counter, glancing at the options of drinks and foods that this tavern serves. Perhaps there are things you can learn here, or maybe you are here for a short respite. Either way, you already know what you will have to do.
You ordered a drink, enjoying the cold beverage provided by the bartender. Getting a drink before embarking to a task that you will die trying to see through.
You ordered another drink. It really is rather refreshing; the cold ale cools your nerves just right, with the alcohol slowly warming up your face. This may not be the best liquor you have ever had, but it was still acceptable for your taste buds.
Downing another drink, you're quite delighted that the quality of the liquor that the tavern provides isn't terrible.
You drank another mead, and you begin to feel a little dizzy. It was still within a manageable threshold, but you have to admit that this town certainly has a way with its beverages.
Though you should remember to drink in moderation, as well as having more important matters to attend to.
You can't help but feel a little more dizzy. The alcohol is beginning to take hold of you. But you have the confidence that it wouldn't blur your judgement.
These are the thoughts of someone who is not as sober as they say they should be.
Again, money talks as the man quietly takes the gold coin. The bartender pours you yet another glass, you've decided to try out their strongest shot, and you can't lie that it has a really strong kick to it.
The other patrons started to cheer you on as you downed another mug, you practically threw a pouch of gold to the bartender for him to agree to serve you any more liquor as well as paying for everyone's drinks.
The bartender raises a brow as he notices your intent. "You're one of 'em knights the king sent out for the rescue, eh?" He said as he looked at the armour that you wear; it is a standard armour provided by the kingdom, the lack of additional decor on it signifies your rank as a knight of a lower standing. "And a green one too. Either yer a confident feller, or a foolish one to take up a task far beyond yer station." The bartender remarks rather bluntly. "Anyhow, not any o' mah business. What can I do fer ya?"
The bartender nods. "Aye, it's a little difficult to explain, but.." The man looks as though he was thinking for a little bit before continuing. "Lately, some folks felt like the town has been in this weird sense of deja vu." He answered while nodding to another customer who ordered a drink as he reached the bottle that had it.
"Aye, I'm part of the few folks around here that's been experiencing this, actually." The bartender says, filling up a glass with booze before sliding it across the counter to another customer. "To start with, some days, it feels like it was exactly as the day 'efore." As he said this, he must have realized that it wasn't exactly a helpful descriptor. The bartender does a fake cough. âAh⌠I do mean it quite literally. Every breath you have taken, every action you did that day? It was all. Exactly. Same.â He emphasized the last parts with taps on the counter.
"Well, that's about the only thing I know off the top o' mah head." The bartender shrugs. "I reckon that yer bound to hear something similar if you listen in to some folks chattering." He drawled blandly as he wiped another glass dry. "I guess there's also whatever's wrong with the forest just at the edge of town. Frankly, no one has really set foot there for a while now." The bartender added as if it were about the weather. He looks at you again, this time squinting. "Is that all ya want, or are ya gonna order anythin'?" The bartender asked bluntly.
The music and chattering of the other patrons became muffled as you stepped out of the tavern. Though you couldn't quite feel the cool summer breeze due to your armour, you can at least breathe a little easier with how untainted the air smelled compared to inside the tavern.
Stopping yourself from getting anymore drinks took you an egregious amount of self-control.
It took a little while, but you managed to sober up. Enough to be functional despite your head feeling as though it is getting hammered. Repeatedly.
You managed to stumble out of the tavern with the grace of a baby deer that had just been born, that is to say, absolutely none at all. A few complaints shot out of a few patrons when you made your way out, but you were on cloud nine to even care about the chatter. You had an important task at hand, after all. And that task is.....
Though your head is clouded. You know that in your honor; you mustn't let his majesty down, you are a proud knight of the kingdom. Lowly in standing you may be, but one that has
You will save the princess from that human personification of pure scum's grasp.
The town plaza is buzzing with the sound of the townsfolk going about their lives. Yet there is an odd sense of unease in some of the peoples faces, but it dissapears just as quickly as it happened replaced with a brief look of apprehension. You can see a group of gossipers in the corner of your eye, and judging by their expressions, it seems to be a serious topic. Though you quickly remembered that your steed is by the edge of town in the stables, and that you should depart soon.
"Can't you believe it? The knight ...... ?"
"I ..... right? When it .... .... thought it was a joke when .....!"
"But why would .... .. ....? What could .... ....... for ...'Golden Weaver' to ... ....?"
"Isn't it ...? Surely it .... .. a hoax!"
You are a little too far from hearing the conversation clearly, yet you know well that the topic of their conversation is about the bastard.
"Oh! Good day, fair Knight!" One of the ladies nervously greeted you as she turned to face you, who suddenly appeared behind her. For a knight who wears a full suit of armour, you have proven to be quite the stealthy type time and again.
The group of women looked at each other uneasily before one of them spoke up. "Um, we've heard that the Golden Weaver holds the princess hostage... But is it not odd?" Despite her discomfort at being confronted by a knight, she remained steadfast in answering your inquiries. "They're loyal to her highness to the point where they willingly donated so much of their magical energy when she fell deathly ill, so why would they do that?"
"...Now that I think about it, why were they in that abandoned tower again...? She was already well...." The group paused; confusion plagued their minds. "...When was there... a tower?"
Once you were done with your business in the town, you walked closer to the edge of the town where the stables are. There, your trusty companion and steed is being taken care of by the stable workers.
The destrier snorts as it hears your heavy footsteps getting closer until you are in front of the beast. You gave the stallion an appreciative head rub as it lowers itself for you, ready to depart to your next, and hopefully not last, destination.
With your noble steed carrying you onwards, the journey to your destination felt a little less burdensome.
You can feel the tower's presence even from far away. So to feel this suffocating aura becoming stronger as you get closer, itâs almost nauseating. Even so, your faithful deterier charged forth and carried you despite the ever-growing unsettling feeling in the air.
The stallion slowly came to a halt, stopping at the foot of the imposing building. You got off the top of your horse, giving it one last pat for a job well done before you head inside.
Kicking down the tower's door, you were greeted with a relatively empty space, save for a bookshelf that still had some books and scrolls on it. Despite how desolate the ground floor looks, you can easily tell that it looks far larger than it appears on the outside.
There wasn't anything useful within the lobby. However, you take note that there definitely was a fight that happened here; scorched spots on the floor, deep cuts along the walls, and unrecognizable furniture.
There are only two ways to go up: the perfectly fine staircase or an almost unsteady-looking ladder.
'Spatial Distortion and the Area it Effects' by Ferhin Rerik
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'Curse: How Magic Scales Misfortune' by Erik Escher
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'Vol 13 About Legends: The Uprooted One' by Urbaine Scysilious
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'Recursion Theorem' by Myruel Eskandor
.....
.....
Though you are not entirely oblivious to the ways of magic, having briefly encountered a few of the Royal Court Magi and spoken to them on rare occasions, and the basics were covered in your training as a knight, to cover as much weakness as possible. The contents within the books are ones that you are far from qualified to really comprehend, not to mention one of them appears to be partially destroyed. How rude.
Curiously, the books appear to be placed in an order you do not quite understand; maybe it is a code. Or perhaps it is simply arranged haphazardly⌠Either way, it doesn't matter to you.
There was something... off with the staircase.
You decided to trust your experience and began the tedious, but very likely safer, action of ascending the ladder. It was difficult at first; the ladder steps were a little uneven, and it felt awkward to get a hold of, but as you continued to move up, you realized it was honestly not bad.
When you finally reached the end of the ladder, you feel a little flustered that your arms were aching from holding onto the uneven rungs that would make any safety inspectors within the kingdom cry. In any case, the most notable thing on this floor is the large door in the middle of the room and an equally large mural depicting a rather modest library on the side.
You feel a strong presence on the other side of the door.
After a brief rest, you opened the door cautiously with one hand on the doorknob and the other on the hilt of your sword. And standing there at the center of the room is the once proud and noblest knight in the entire kingdom: The Golden Weaver. A knight who once served the princess with utmost loyalty and care, now holding that very princess captive for unknown reasons. Your mind couldn't wrap around the idea of just why they would even do this. All that you need to know is that they must die if you wish to even save her majesty. Their posture is relaxed, notably sluggish, and completely unbothered by your arrival, as though they expected this to happen. They already have their sword firmly at hand; they just need a reason to use it. "....." Do not mistake their level of leniency for carelessness.
You barely reacted in time and leaped to the side as a nearly imperceptible energy brushed close to where you stood. The door has been completely evaporized, and you have no doubt that the slash your opponent made has been embedded deeply in the tower's wall.
Had you been a second slower, there would not even be a body to be turned into a fine mist. But there is no time for you to dwell on 'what-ifs' as the rogue knight is already closing the distance between you and them.
Your swords clashed against one another; it is a miracle and a half that your blade did not immediately shatter upon contact with their own. You can feel your grip wavering in the contest of strength and willpower between yourself and them. But you can't lose now.
Your eyes glanced around for something that could help you survive against this monster, honour will not save you from this encounter, but a little bit of trickery shouldn't be too big of a deal.
You managed to deliver a solid kick to their midsection, earning a near inaudible grunt from the rogue as you made space between the two of you.
There is only a short moment before they make their move, so it is best if you could make yours before they can.
You managed to make a break for it and ran straight to the mural. There was this feeling in the back of your mind that the mural wasn't just a regular painted wall but a magical portal of sorts.
And that very feeling proved to be correct, as the moment when you were about to just slam into the wall, you ended up just passing through it with minimal difficulties. But based on the sound of something making contact with a stone wall, it seems like the same couldnât be said for that ââbarbarianââ.
Like what is depicted on the walls, the place you are in seems to be a library, with books and scrolls filling the shelves. It did not look fake, though you have yet to experience high-tier illusion magic to truly confirm its authenticity.
Walking around the library made you realize that this place was likely once filled with scholars dedidated to magic and its the limits. You investigated this place until you found a suspicious bookshelf that turned out to be a hidden door leading you to a hallway.
There appears to be a door at the end of the hall, untouched and unguarded. You quickly made your way over there.
Noticing that you were able to enter the mural but your opponent couldn't, you took this opportunity to launch a fatal, but rather dishonourable, attack against them.
You swiftly reached out to grab them by the cloth of their cape and yanked them towards the mural. The traitor slammed against the wall as they could not enter the space within the painting. They must have realized just what you were doing as they immediately tried to pull back and get away from the wall, but it was already too late.
In one brisk and decisive moment, you plunged your sword into their throat, a weak layer of magic briefly coated your sword as it pierced through the layers of protection that failed to protect them, before pulling the blade away to leave them to bleed.
You could hear them quietly gagging, one of their hand reaching up to their bleeding throat. You let go of their cape and turned away from them. Delightful, isn't it?
You had a vague impression that her majesty would be somewhere in the palace; many within the palace had said that she was fond of libraries and would often have long discussions with the Royal Court Magi regarding magic, academic research, or matters within and outside the kingdom.
Perhaps out of what was left of their loyalty, that person held the princess captive near the vast place of knowledge for her own comfort. You gripped the sword tainted by the fallen's blood tighter as you investigated this place until you found a suspicious bookshelf that turned out to be a hidden door leading you to a hallway.
There appears to be a door at the end of the hall, untouched and unguarded. You quickly made your way over there.
You pushed the door open, in the middle of the room is the princess, the heir to the throne, and the the pride of the royal family in all of her resplendent glory.
She blesses you with a smile. "At long last, you are... finally... here...." Her voice trailed off as her eyes looked at the blade in your hand, still covered in the blood of her once loyalest knight. You couldn't tell what kind of expression she wore from both the veil that covers her eyes and to the way her face reveals not a hint of her thoughts and feelings.
After a while, she finally speaks again. "I suppose you will be escorting me back, then?" The princess spoke in a calm and soft voice, yet you can't help but notice a hint of sadness in it. She held out her hand for you to guide her back.
You remembered a good old secret technique that you picked up from one of the other knights during your training, it involved having a small pouch filled with sand or some sort of powder that you would have somewhere on your person, and if ever you were on a tight spot in a close combat situation; simply toss a handful of what's inside the pouch.
With this in mind, you reached into your pouch filled with a mixture of sand and grounded chilli and attempted to toss it at your foe. Only for it to also backfire as you and that scumhave gotten those same mixture on your eyes and even noses, making it mildly annoying when both your sense of smell and sight are stinging in irritation.
You reared your head back before slamming it against the other's. They didn't make a single sound as it happened, seemingly unaffected by it, as they then landed a kick to your thigh rather harshly.
You skidded across them a little as you gripped the spot you were kicked on, it was painful. But you can't afford to let your guard down.
Your question was only met with silence from your enemy. Even though there were multiple opportunities to strike you down, the Golden Weaver did not engage in violence and remained silent for a while.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of both of you being in a standoff, they spoke. "You already know why." The authority in the way that they said that could not mask the weariness that they have.
The tension between the two of you is heavy; your instincts to fight or to flee are battling one another over what you will do. "But, I do wonder..." A sudden wave of pressure fell on you as their eyes met yours.
"Will you continue to try stopping me?"
A sensation similar to thorny vines constricting your windpipes from within, as you stopped mid-sentence, as you began to cough up a liquid, presumably your own blood.The rogue knight noticed how you halted yourself from speaking any further as you continued to hack up blood and slowly walked towards you. "I see, so you do want to resist this... fate." As they got closer to you, the air began to crackle with magical energy before it completely enveloped the knight in gold and blue. Perhaps there really was merit to their moniker, Golden Weaver.
How bold, you have a lot of nerve to try to sway the anomaly.
âCome, take my hand, and we will break through this cycle weâve found ourselves in.âThey still dare to ignore me, huh?
I have chosen to take their hand. The warmth of their magic can be felt as it weaves itself on your magic and on the wretched curse, 'untangling' some parts of the spell that were making a mess of my own body. "Come along now" Spoke the fabled knight after a few seconds of silence.
They began leading me somewhere in this twisted tower; climbing up stairs that changes a step, going through rooms that alter their space, and through halls that seem to stretch impossibly far. Finally, the two of us stopped at a door. "Her majesty has been waiting for a long time. Please, come in." The loyal knight of the princess said as they stood to the
side of the door.
It was... nerve-racking, I have only ever seen her from afar, as I am of a lower station. Yet despite this, I gently opened the door to reveal the pride of the kingdom, standing there with a smile on her face and a knowing look in her eyes.
"At long last, you are finally here."
You did not attack the wretched immediately, nor did you show any fear or panic, and instinctively dodged. You stood still, looking straight ahead at what was once a proud knight, turned a hateful villain, traded pride for their personal gain.
"......." They did not say anything to you; they do not owe you anything. But perhaps out of courtesy, they did not make a move, simply observing you the way you are observing them.
You decided to take a different path and ventured into the woods nearby, opting not to take your horse with you.
Treading carefully as to not trip over the roots, it is made clear that no one in the village had made any frequent trips in the woods for some time now as the path to the forest becomes less maintained.
It may be wiser to simply go back, and accomplish the task you came for.
You turned back, running through the woods, stumbling and nearly tripping on the way out of the forest. You didn't stop until you could see the light of the sun shining down on you, until you saw the town again.
You went back to the stables, getting on your steed as you had decided to go to your destination.
Out of pure stubbornness, you went even further inside the woods. The trees and foliage started to change as you went deeper into the forest. The trees began to loom more ominously, and the flora became denser and even a little hostile, with some of them being thorny and even poisonous.
You start to hear the sound of what seems to be music; an airy yet haunting melody can be heard somewhere deeper within the sea of trees. If you strain your ear, it appears to sound like some sort of wind instrument.
Does it not seem wiser to go back and save your kingdom's princess?
As you get closer to what would be considered the heart of the forest, you can hear the music become clearer.
You spotted a vaguely humanoid figure in the middle of a clearing. Its skin is a mixture of decaying flesh and withering roots. The creature's face looked rather grotesque, as if a wooden mask had been stitched onto it. In its hands is what appears to be a pan flute made of bones; you couldn't tell if the bones were those of an animal or of humans.
Wait, isn't that....
The creature's neck made several unsettling creaking noises as it turns its head towards you. There was neither malice nor kindness in its eyes, it simply observes you with a simple judgement in mind; prey or not?
It ceased its song of pan flute. And the only sound that remained is that of your own breathing and the wind brushing against the leaves; no other creature dared to make a noise when their lord speaks.
"I am Manchineel, the Uprooted One, and the master of this forest. What do you seek?"
......
The Master of the Forest slowly nods. "Rid the curse? How peculiar, that spell was meant to be a blessing of sorts." Although its maw moved as it spoke, you could tell that it was not exactly synchronized to the words spoken out of it. "I suppose gifts can be twisted into curses and curses could be made into a blessing." Yet each word that fell out of its mouth
"Though the unique element to this 'curse'makes it tricky to 'rid of' so to speak, I can, however, ease it. If you solve my riddle. " It chortled half-heartedly, yet the words are rather sincere.
....You... why..
The Uprooted One did not elaborate. Instead, it immediately started its riddle.
"Some say I am money; I can be spent, wasted, or lost. Others say I must pass for wounds to heal and mistakes to be forgiven. I cannot be seen, yet, my influence can be seen and felt by all. What am I?"
The creature remained silent for an uncomfortably long time. You were worried that you had given it the wrong answer, yet you refused to show any weakness to one of the kingdom's legends. After a while, it finally spoke. "Correct. The answer is time." A pleasant breeze blew in accompaniment of the Uprooted One's voice, and with it, the forest's ambience returned in full.
It tilts its head at you in apt attention before finally it lifts one of its long limbs and reaches towards you at an alarming speed. The sound of what seemed to be bones cracking and wood splintering nearly made you flinch, yet you remained still, if only a little stiff, as it held your shoulder.
Then, warmth began to spread from your shoulder to your entire body as their magic began to seamlessly weave itself onto you, and by extension, your curse, leaving you feeling lighter than you had before you came here.
âThis is the most that I can grant you at this moment. This will give you some reprieve before your journey starts once more.â...How dare you....