ALBION (human)

  I slump down, exhausted, next to Lyrel. A pointed ear peeks out from beneath the bandage on her head. My gaze drifts to the forty or so adventurers scrambling over the remains of the troll. Among them is Groboln, of course he would be among them... He is moving like an excited child in a market of wonders. He rummages methodically through the ashes with a metal rod—likely salvaged from the debris—picking up fragments he deems interesting. His movements are precise, but his expression betrays an almost unhealthy fascination.

  “Groboln!” I call out to him. “Do you really think there’s anything useful in there?”

  He half-stands, his rod in hand, a smirk playing on his lips.

  “Ah, Albion. Look around you. Do you think we’re getting paid for all this crap?! I’m making the most of it. This troll—it’s not exactly common...”

  He turns back to his task, muttering under his breath. Nearby, other adventurers bicker over larger chunks, each claiming a piece as though their lives depend on it.

  Kael Margonos remains utterly still. His imposing aura dominates the landscape, even in silence. His eyes scan the ruins with an intensity that sends chills down my spine; it is as if he saw something in the distance but isn’t entirely sure of it. He doesn’t need to speak for us to understand that he views the incident as a mere inconvenience. For a mage of his caliber, this kind of confrontation is nothing more than a minor obstacle on the path to his objectives.

  “He’s impressive, isn’t he?” Salina’s voice breaks the tension, attempting to lighten the mood.

  She might be better off rummaging through the wreckage herself—Groboln’s probably not wrong about that—but yeah, I understand her awe. Those Inquisition guys... I get why even kings bow to them. Compared to Kael, Yvanna seems almost useless, though I’m sure she had a role in those protective spheres.

  I’m about to respond when Groboln interrupts, his eyes gleaming like a child who’s just uncovered a treasure.

  “Hey, Albion! Come see this!” he shouts, waving a piece of metal in the air.

  I approach, curious but wary.

  “What have you found?”

  He hands me the fragment. It’s a metal plate, visibly twisted and deformed by heat, yet engraved symbols remain legible. They’re unlike anything I’ve seen. Curved lines and geometric patterns intertwine, forming what looks like an alien language or code.

  Groboln whispers, his eyes alight with excitement. “See these engravings? They’re still pulsing with energy.”

  I frown, running my fingers over the inscriptions. A strange warmth emanates from the metal, though it might just be the residual heat reflecting off the glowing bands. I’m no mage, but I don’t feel anything magical about it. Still, Groboln looks pleased, and that’s good enough for me.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He shoots me a provocative grin, clearly proud of his find.

  “Don’t worry about me, boss.”

  I shake my head, a tired smile on my lips. Groboln can be a fool at times, but he does have a knack for finding interesting things—sometimes. And today is not one of those times; this metal plate feels completely useless. I still decide to humor him. “Alright,” I say simply, leaving him with his precious prize.

  In the distance, Kael Margonos turns, his piercing gaze briefly falling on us. My heart skips a beat. Did he see what Groboln has? Impossible to tell. He seems to be heading our way, but no—he moves to speak with Yvanna. What could he be saying to her?

  As I step back to let Groboln toy with his discovery, my thoughts drift to the immensity of these ruins. There’s something eerily fascinating about the colossal debris scattered like the remnants of an unknown city. Each piece, each shard, seems to tell a story beyond our comprehension. Artifacts? Traps? Remnants of dwarven constructions brought up from the ground? No, all of this crashed here—but from where? That’s the real question.

  I can’t help but wonder what we might find if we had more time and freedom to explore. Lost technologies? Answers to the mysteries of this forest and the cataclysm? But what interests Groboln, myself, and most of the adventurers here is how much it could all be worth.

  Lyrel, still beside me, seems to read my thoughts. She speaks softly, almost to herself:

  “This place... it chills me to the bone. Not just because of what we’ve seen, but because of the secrets it still cradles in its ruins.”

  I nod. Elves always have a strange, almost poetic way of speaking. Her words perfectly capture the tension, the mix of fascination and fear hanging over us, especially after the attack we just survived.

  But then, a cold reality hits me: we’re not free to explore this place as we wish. The Inquisition is here, and Kael Margonos is not a man to let anything slip through his grasp. They will lock this place down, that’s certain. Some of the inquisition guys are already urging adventurers to put down metal plates and stuffs they grabbed from the fragmented troll. These ruins will become forbidden territory, an enigma sealed behind walls of silence and control.

  “If the Inquisition secures the area,” I murmur, “we won’t have access to these ruins anymore. Not without taking huge risks.”

  Salina, standing beside me, furrows her brows, her clear eyes fixed on the horizon where the debris stretches endlessly.

  “And you think King Aldrik will just let that happen? He’ll send troops to claim this territory, especially if he thinks there’s something valuable here.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. But trust me, Kael Margonos isn’t the sharing type. The Inquisition operates beyond the laws of kings. They’ll claim these ruins are dangerous, that they hold anomalies, heresies to purge. And Aldrik, powerful as he is, won’t risk a direct conflict with them.”

  She stays silent for a moment, then murmurs:

  “Then we’ll have to find a way. If these ruins hold something that can give us an advantage, and money, I don’t want them to be the ones to get everything. They're already plenty rich.”

  Her gaze shifts to Kael, still surrounded by his inquisitors. They resemble sinister statues, like the sculptures of their leaders in their sanctuaries.

  I smile faintly, without humor.

  “We’ll have to be smarter than them. And faster.”

  My thoughts return to Groboln and his discovery. There’s definitely more here than just metal plates.

  A sigh escapes me. I can’t help but hope we’ll have the chance to return here, away from the Inquisition’s watchful eyes. I glance at Lyrel. She doesn’t seem to have a group. Maybe she’d join ours.

  I need to discuss this with Salina—Groboln's opinion will always lean favorably towards an elf, "with big tits" as he said before. I place my palm on my forehead, already bracing myself for his inevitable slew of inappropriate jokes if she joins us...