Skandre, one day later…
Dragons were inherently lazy creatures, down to their very genes.
They spent most of their immensely long lifespans sleeping, the periods of inactivity pushing them further along their path of power the longer they were under. However, when it came to robbing and looting, you'd think they'd been possessed by the spirits of hard working peasants.
They did with it near religious fervor, their focus, efficiency, and utter thoroughness only matched by Adepts. Skandre was a testament to how motivated they could really be when it came to the matter of wealth and treasure.
Not just Skandre, Greem thought as he strolled down the sullen streets of the eponymous city and recalled the seven others he flew over on his way here, the bulk of the populace garbed in shabby clothing and moving about like actual zombies.
All the lights in their eyes were gone, siphoned along with their wealth by the greedy dragons. Replacing it was cold dead anger, helplessness, and resignation that seemed to cycle one after the other.
He could imagine the thought processes behind those rapid shifts in emotion. The protector creatures of their kingdom that were practically gods in many of their minds had turned on them all of a sudden.
They'd taken not just their painstakingly earned gold and jewels, they'd taken their homes, friends, parents and even children. How could such a thing not make a rational person rageful and vengeful?
But what else could that blistering fire of vengeance do except sit and eat them alive from within? It wasn't like they could do anything else about it. These were dragons.
Their normal human legs couldn't even maintain regular consistency in the presence of the beasts.
And even if they could somehow confront the callous and shameless behemoths without passing out frothing at the mouth, how were they supposed to find them? No human alive knew the location of Dragon Valley.
Those that did were cold corpses on the battlefield where the fate of their plane was decided. Not that these regular civilians knew that.
With a relaxed pace and careful movements, Greem navigated the ruined capital, managing to not touch a single person despite his size and the plethora of people making their way down the streets and out of the city.
He held a metal plate the size of a credit card, except it'd been cut in half. Life force steadily flowed into it and led him towards its other half, which, from what he could tell, was moving and heading towards him.
That was odd, but he continued with a calm confidence. He had a guess as to what was happening, he just needed to reach the card's other half and confirm it.
After a few minutes of walking, and the surroundings, buildings and people around him becoming slummier and slummier, he arrived on a narrow, filth covered street.
Right at the end of it, he found someone, the latter's head and arm peeking out of the alley there while he waved his arm vigorously while smiling like it was raining money.
'This kid,' Greem thought and shook his head, unable to stop the tiny smirk that formed on his lips.
With subtle manipulation of his crafting method's powers, he carved a tiny, unblemshied path on the shit covered and piss puddled ground and walked along it to join his hosts in the alley.
He didn't make the artificial path too obvious. He didn't want to scare away the suitors he'd drawn upon stepping foot into the city.
It was inevitable.
Men with his build were a rarely seen sight in this land. To make matters worse, the grey robe he'd draped on himself lifted from time, exposing the high quality apparel he wore beneath.
The crooks following him might not know his identity nor the materials his clothes were composed of, but their well experienced eyes and sensibilities told them they cost a good amount of money.
Upon entering the alley, Greem raised a finger to his lips to shush his enthusiastic new follower and the boy he was with, the latter betraying no change in expression.
He seemed good at keeping his composure, probably due to his hard upbringing, but the hope and expectation rolling off him was as thick as the scent of unwashed rags, armpits, and other crevices Greem dared not think about.
Halfway into the alley, he turned and faced the group of rowdy looking men armed with pitiful knives and other unimpressive bludgeoning weapons. He regarded them for a moment and nodded visibly when he recognised the leader hiding in the back.
"Runeforge Camp. Do any of you know where it is?"
"They can't possibly know that," a young voice said from behind.
He looked over his shoulder at the skinny boy, his right eyebrow raised. His right arm went up right after and he pointed a gloved hand at the surprisingly smart would-be thieves, clenching the appendage into a fist.
They took him looking away as the signal to attack. Unfortunately for them, they were severely outclassed. Their charge got cut off abruptly when the invisible sleep inducing ripple hit them.
They ended up in a heap that would see some of them sore when they woke up.
"You know where Runeforge Camp is," Greem turned and stated in a matter of fact tone.
The boy nodded. "Follow me."
He started moving and Edward looked at Greem like he had a lot to say. He however kept mum and took after his master when the latter followed the mysterious little boy without question.
The boy had come to see him the day he arrived in the capital. Greem had given him fresh clothes and a storage item filled with gold coins and ordered him to pay for the most safe way to reach Skandre.
According to his new master, it was the safest place he could hide while he and his colleagues went to war with the knights, despite the glaring and obvious problem with it.
Having been on the run for a significant portion of his life, the capital was a place he'd had repeated nightmares about. His head had rolled down the execution block in the square more times than he could count.
And now he was being asked to go there. Had Greem not sensed his discomfort and deduced the cause for it with his immense wisdom, Edward was not sure he would have had the courage to make the journey.
He looked at his left wrist and the metal band there, recalling how Greem gave it to him and explained what it did. So long as he kept it on, no one could sense that he was a heretic. Well, no one who wasn't a heretic could detect his true status.
That's how he guessed the mysterious boy found him.
At first he was afraid, the worst he feared had happened. He almost ran from the city, but when he found out that the boy was just like him, he concluded that the master had made him only invisible to just the knights, not others like him.
Once again, he was glad for imploring his saviour to take him under his wing. He could imagine his future under such a person. His days of living like a vagabond and being a dreg of society were over.
Still, he wanted to apologize for leading an unfamiliar person to what was supposed to be their secret meeting. Thankfully, Greem said nothing about it nor did he seem annoyed.
He could only hope it remained that way.
The boy led them out of the alley and went through a dozen other ones that saw their elevation reduce little by little until they reached the foot of the mountain.
They walked for nearly an hour, something that grated against Greem's impatience like sandpaper against skin. His booster had never felt heavier against his back. He wanted to simply pick Edward and the boy up and ask the latter for directions.
But the three dragons that decided to take their turn raiding the city not long after he joined up with the boys made him hesitate. He could use his stealth artifact, but it could only hide him from the senses of a Beginner Second Grade.
These dragons weren't even Third Grade, but they were definitely beyond the level of Beginner Second Grade. Unwilling to end up dragon food, he tamped down his eagerness and patiently followed the boy.
At the foot of the mountain, they found another slum and entered it as well, making their way to a run down house. Inside it, Greem and Edward came face to face with an old man with a dirt stained blindfold obscuring his eyes.
None of his senses registered anything extraordinary about the man. Not even a thin aura of spirit and elementium aura like the one the mysterious boy had.
Instead, what he sensed was the foreign sense of respect worming its way harmlessly into his chest and head the more he gazed at the blind man. A sure sign of someone who used fate.
Greem nodded in confirmation at his expectations being met and gestured with his open hands at the man in a well, let's start manner. He looked forward to the interesting conversation.
They were two people with knowledge about the future meeting each other for the first time. The old man had to find some of it as amusing as he did.
"Welcome, guest from another plane. I am Mas. But you knew that already didn't you?"
Greem smirked. "I have no idea what you're talking about diviner Mas. I am Greem. While it's truly nice to meet you, really, you know why I'm here right? I mean I'd say it but it feels a bit redundant."
The old man laughed. "I understand what you mean perfectly. I feel the same when I speak to my friends, the other sages. We share very few words."
They spoke for some time after that, discussing the details of their cooperation.
Just as Greem expected, Mas had read his own future and that of his numerous charges. Judging from the way the man held nothing back and shared everything openly with him, it seemed his desire to recruit them would be successful.
But there was something missing. Mas wasn't hiding it per say, but he could sense the old man was reluctant to mention it. Right as he was about to ask what it was, the diviner beat him to it.
"Not now. I ask that you trust me on this. Finish your business with the Runeforge and the king first. We'll talk about it after. It involves the lives of me and my charges as well, and I do not wish to see them die. If you don't believe me, at least believe in that."
Sighing, Greem made a few subtle nods and thanked the man before turning round to leave.
Mas had no combat worthy abilities due to his path as a seer. As a way to maintain balance, the plane or multiversal will—Greem wasn't sure which or if the latter even existed—had taken away all his ability to advance in other paths.
Even though he was Second Grade, the old man was every bit frail as he appeared. And while he didn't need help moving about, he still required help in dealing with the few inevitable futures he divined.
The numerous followers making up the bulk of individuals in this secluded slum served that purpose very well. They protected him and aided in furthering his interests, and he in turn served as a supernatural compass and early warning system.
Their relationship benefited both parties. One would not survive long without the other. Though now that the plane was essentially the clan's, that might soon change.
Going over the intel passed over to him, Greem mentally went over the missions he came to Skandre to tackle. The complete information on the unique energy method was his self-set goal.
The one where he had to assassinate the king and bring his head to Lord Sarubo was assigned to him by the Sixth Grade himself.
One was obviously easier than the other. And the easy one turned out to be what would get him what he wanted so badly in the first place, so he wasted no time after double checking the intel one more time before setting off.