Devourer Class

Teramore had snow gathering along its cobblestone streets and anyone who was out was more likely in heavy clothes and boots. Neita felt rather out of place in the grey, foreign area when she exited the carriage. She felt especially self conscious with her light suit jacket and pants. Both had magic arrays and enchantments within the seams that generated a set temperature against her skin, an incredibly expensive gift from her father.

When Neita hadn't been spending time catching up on sleep, she had been traveling back and forth across the city of Teramore to finalize the report with every official who was in town about the burning camp between Teramore and Bluewalk. It was all required in her work and the only thing she volunteered to take was the information to the Count. It would give her a chance to talk about her original reason for coming; the dungeon incident that happened just a month ago.

She told the driver that she'll be staying at one of the guild managed inns and would meet him and his carriage there in a few days. He was to head back to Bluewalk and meet with the guild office there with her report, they would be able to more easily investigate the fire and bodies with more thorough sweeps. Neita intended to join the investigation on her return to the capital when she finished her questioning in Teramore.

It's one thing if it was a monster attack from reckless camping near the forests, but the clear signs of an unknown force clearing out a bandit camp was something the guild wouldn't let go. If more secret powers were rising against the Etherite Kingdom, it was a part of her job to find out who commit such a massacre.

In the meantime, Neita was going to first visit the Count about Venora, gather files written on the incident again, and finally meet with the Mystroff family at their home. She dreaded opening up any mental wounds in Galahad just because she was concerned about the truth, so she inadvertently waited to do that last.

She walked into the main office building of the city and made her way to the front desk. The male secretary at desk turn her name and position before she sat in the waiting room with several others seemingly unhappy about the waiting process. She spent half the morning in a chair while compiling questions she hoped weren't too s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to ask to see if her hunch about the strange events were valid.

Neita eventually put her tablet away and tried rubbing the mental fatigue out of her temples. She opened her eyes back up to see the Count was walking into the main lobby. He seemed to walk with rather quick step to Neita, clearly moving at the quickest yet still polite pace as he could.

"Miss Lilgrey I presume?" He said while extending his arm out for a handshake. She was quickly introduced and they arrived in the Count's office of a file covered desk and small table set by the window.

Neita sat at the chair opposite of Count Swittar's desk before she heard a flutter of wings come from the open window. A small brown hawk flew inside the room and perched itself onto the table, watching with a rather vigilant eye that almost made her flinch in her seat.

The Count sat down at his end of the desk and noticed the look Neita was making at the presence of the aerial predator. "Ah, apologies. That there is Solteer, a Familiar gifted to me from a close consultant and friend of mine."

Neita nodded before pulled out her tablet to begin talking about her reason for coming to visit. She didn't notice the odd look the Count and Solteer seemed to share. He could only shrugged at his improvised relationship with the bird.

"I hope you don't mind, but I came to discuss with you the events that took place a few weeks ago that involved your daughter's adventure team."

"I figured as much, the whole hasn't exactly been easy on anyone. For both my family personally and the guild office."

"Why did the guild suffer?" Neita asked, confused why they had any issues besides losing workers to the massacre and trauma.

"Reputation miss Lilgrey. You'll catch on to such things when you get a few more years under your belt. The city guild office lost not only two teams during a coordinated event, but the investigative officers couldn't find anything else to say on the matter. They couldn't figure out how or why everything happened and now the recruitment rates for dungeon hunting has dropped significantly."

"I see, it's very difficult to handle when it affects everyone in the city very heavily. Which is why I don't want to intrude on the s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e topic, but if possible, could you tell me anything more about what Venora experience or what she might have overlooked. May I speak with her on the matter?"

She implied with her tone that she was asking not the Count of Teramore her request, but the father of a Venora. She wanted to help the best she could on the matter, it didn't feel right to leave everything like.

"Unfortunately, Venora is currently staying at a healing village for the time being; a place more specialized in rehabilitation instead of just a medical center of healers using high level recovery skills. There is very little magic that can heal the mental damage someone experiences from such events. Though despite the injuries, She seemed very certain before she left; that the demise of her team involved a large blemmyae attacking before blacking out. I'm not sure if that helps but that's I all can find out myself."

Neita heard Solteer shake his wings out behind her, seeming to be unhappy about something.

The Count gave a noticing before continuing. "Eh, may I ask as to why your still investigating the disaster? I thought everything was filed away five days after the event. In fact, you and your associate came in and out of Teramore pretty quickly on the matter."

"My partner felt he needed to return on another urgent matter. We tried to work as quickly as possible, but now I finally have an opportunity to look more in-depth on the matter" Neita didn't want to admit their quick visit was due to Malex being extra crabby and impatient; or that she returned just because she had a doubt about Galahad's injuries and story.

"Ahh, well I'm glad you chose to revisit after the urgent matter was dealt with. Best to discover any unknown dangers." For some reason, that almost sounded fake to Neita. She pushed it off and kept thinking about what to do next.

"And speaking of unknown dangers, I heard a few rumors about you bringing in a bandit from the Fangs of Nyt? Anything you can confirm?"

"Oh, well I have the final report on the incident here for you to file. This'll be more convenient than having me explain it to you before making just you read all I've said. You should also know though, Symora Vantré is not a bandit, she was trapped in the bandit camp and nearly died trying to escape during the chaos."

"I see, well we'll see what the kingdom's orders are for her after the team in Bluewalk is done. I am sorry that Venora ended up leaving a bit before your return. I can imagine you'll want to talk with Galahad Mystroff as well?"

"Yes, do you have an home address I can find him at?"

"He still lives with his family in a forge and shop here." The Count wrote everything down on the note of paper and handed it to her. "However, you should know he might not be home and it may be a while when he returns."

"Why is that?"

"Last I heard was he took a security detail job for one of the local bakers that was planned for Bluewalk."

"He took a job for Bluewalk so soon? When was that?" Neita was trying not to let the sensation of her neck prickling change the sound of her voice.

"Nearly a week ago."

She was overcome with multiple thoughts overrunning her brain. How could she had just missed him? Was he anywhere near the bandit camp when the massacre happened? Was he somehow involved?

Neita was trying not to freak out and at the same time, she had no idea Count Swittar felt the same way. He was fearful of the what had become of Galahad and what the massacre meant. Solteer's warnings about Galahad's changes and distrust made him think it would ultimately all come back to bite him, he wished he hadn't sent him off with a letter discussing with Regin the secrets he was told. The whole event was nerve racking. The two sitting across one another were concerned with what had happened to the Galahad for two very different reasons.

"I should probably be heading out then." Neita said after taking a calming breathe. "I hope you and your family will be able to overcome the hardsh.i.p.s you've had to face as of late."

"Thank you, I'm not exactly one to hold onto the past sorrow when the aftershocks are causing problems. Sometimes you have to accept the situation you're dealt and handle that before anything else." Count Swittar gave a tired sigh and shook Neita's hand before walking her to the door.

"Hopefully you'll find the what you're looking for before you leave Teramore. Have a nice evening and stay safe."

Neita left behind a small crystal cube with the file information and exited the office with more questions and anxiety than when she entered. She could only hope Galahad wasn't a part of the carnage she found, if only she could have asked the boy who ran off.

*****

Galahad entered the old bar and saw barely a handful of customers sitting in random seats around the space. He sat at a stool that g.r.o.a.n.e.d loudly at his weight, and waited a minute before eventually getting the bald bartender's attention.

The bartender was clearly a battle class of some kind, with a solid physique and menacing stature that kept almost people from skipping their bill. When he made his way over, Galahad notice the man's head was closely shaven down to his thick beard, not bald.

"Excuse me. Why is this place named 'Spartan's Porter?' Is it a type of class or skill of some kind?"

The bartender moved a few glass off the wooden rack behind him and pointed his thumb to a worn out sign on the wall.

The sign read: "Answers never comes free; the only free question is 'What's on tap?'"

Galahad rolled his eyes at the bartender and ordered a pint of the Venom Ale. Contrary to the name, it wasn't poisonous or bitter, it had more of a peachy taste. The name originated from the color, that of a dark and sinister looking green. To Galahad, it had a resemblance to a demon lethal oil that could be added to a sword for the dungeons, one of many products his mother sold back home.

Galahad paid the man and downed three gulps before asking the question once again. This time the bearded man spoke in a rather deep and hoarse voice. Seemed he spent more time smoking cigars than fighting.

"Grandfather was a summoner, used to summon creatures called Spartans. After he retirement, he wasting his credits opening the bar and named it after them." His words were blunt and ended as quickly as they came.

'Huh, so I have a class that takes off of a summon, not a rare or unique class. That's certainly interesting.'

"But what exactly are they?" Galahad was very curious to know what type of creatures these summoners were. They were obviously humanoid and strong, but if they had other powers and abilities that connected to Galahad, he wanted to find out now than in a more intense situation.

The bartender only pointed at the sign again gesturing to the second half Galahad hadn't yet read.

"More Information = More Pints"

Galahad was irked at the lack of useful knowledge giving bartender, he bought another drink and tried for a more in-depth and singular answer so he would go bankrupt.

"I mean to ask what are Spartans truly, when your grandfather summoned them, what were they capable of?"

"My grandfather died when I was real young, I never really saw them in action. All I know is they came from some other realm, shouting in an unknown language and fighting like martial art masters gone savage. That's all the stories I ever heard of them."

Galahad figured that was all he was going to get out of the guy before he'd try and corner him into buying a whole pitcher.

'Screw it, I cant keep wasting time with this.' Galahad got up and left the bar, realizing there wasn't much else to know. A summoner who wield humanoid monsters from another world certain wasn't unique. There were legends of someone who summoned massive dragons from other worlds, reigning down hellfire for decades, that legend had more information than those pints could give.

Galahad had grown especially tired of the unrewarding effort because he finally figured out a scheme to get himself in the dungeon without a pass. He needed to gather a few supplies before he could attempt something extremely illegal.

Just before Galahad left the Spartan's Porter, he went to the restroom in the back and threw out all the old bandages, he wasn't going to need them anymore. The role of broken and powerless will only serve as a memory, now he'll be whatever the black orb made him.