Thunder cracked overhead, rain lashed against the young woman's cloak, blurring the light from the lantern on her right hand. The cold wind howled like a banshee, as she pressed on the muddy stoned road. Her right foot slipped, and the weight of the wicker basket she was carrying brought her down into a muddy puddle.

She stood up shakily, then crawled to check the wicker basket in front of her for any damage. She quickly unwrapped the Adarna fabric, woven from the fiery feathers of a mythical phoenix bird, Adarna. It acts as a waterproof covering and also provided both resistance to fire and insolation for the precious cargo that she held dear—a newborn boy, snuggled soundly in his white woolen blanket.

The young woman gave a sigh of relief. "He's alright," she whispered.

She wrapped the basket again and raised it using her left hand. Luckily, her lantern was lit on the muddy ground. Picking it up, letting the downpour of rain remove the mud that covered it, and she continued on.

"To the Seven Gods above, let me be fast enough," she muttered under her breath.

As she walked along the muddy road, a weathered signpost on the left side of the road emerged from the rain and mist. She walked closer to it, lifting her lantern so she could read. The sign contains three languages: Valerian, Bisaya, and Celtia.

                   Above

"<--Nebo, Kingdom of Velanthir."

                   Below

"Baskerville, Empire of Karnorath--->"

"Nebo,” she whispered. She continued onto the muddy road where the sign pointed towards Nebo with each labored step in the muddy road; short after she climbed a small mound which gave her the distant view of the town that beckoned on the horizon, its lights glimmering due to the rain.

"Just a few more kilometers," she muttered to herself, and pressed onward.

As she neared the town walls, the young woman heard a distant toll of a bell and spotted a group of mercenary men in cloaks, clamoring at the gate. Behind them stood a wagon crafted from the finest oak, its sides emblazoned with the words "Ray and Brother's Merchandise".

Polished iron fittings, though dulled with age, gleamed softly in the wagon's lantern light, leading an unexpected touch of elegance to its rugged exterior. The wagon bed was laden with cargo, each crate, barrel, and bundle of carpets meticulously organized and secured. Covering the goods was a dirty white canvas that arched, but it had a small platform above for protection of the driver from incoming rain, similar to those wild west wagons, shielding both the goods and the occupants from the storm.

A man sat at the front with reins on his weary hands, while beside him a young boy shivered beneath his cloak. His small frame trembled against the cold, wet storm. The shouts of the mercenary men they hired, though muffled by the relentless storm, reach her ears—spoken in valerian, a language commonly used since the founding and the fall of the Valerian dynasty to the Karnorathian conquerors fifty-nine years ago.

"Hey, is anyone awake!? Open up these bloody gates!" One of the mercenaries bellowed below the walls. One of the men rang the bell repeatedly and said, "Our goods are getting soaked out here!"

Finally, they saw light coming out from the walls, a guard stood on the wall shielding himself with his cloak from the storm, holding a misel lantern—a lantern type, made with lead that had reflectors that reflect the candle light from within into a one single direction and can also be adjusted similarly to a modern flashlight. He adjusted the light of the lantern and swept the beam over the group, the bright light cutting through the rain and darkness, the mercenaries half shielded their eyes from the blinding light with their hands.

"Pamatuod!" The guard called down in Bisaya, his tone professional and skeptical of the armed men in this late hour.

(Pamatuod - proof of identity in Bisaya, one of the many dialects of the Philippine islands.)

One of the men stepped forward, raising a golden badge. A flower-shaped design gleamed in the lantern’s beam, its eight polished gold petals catching an illuminated glow of golden yellow. The guard squinted down, then turned his head and shouted in Bisaya.

With a groan, the heavy wooden metal gate cracked open upwards. The men wasted no time and hurriedly went to the wagon, pushing and pulling the two horse-drawn wagons inside. The wheels splashed through the puddles as they crossed the threshold. Laden with heavy tradable goods, the wagon rumbled forward and the men hastened to find refuge inside. The young woman wasted no time following behind quietly, not to make any suspicious noise; went cautiously to their blind spots. Using her eyes, she assessed the status of each mercenary for precaution if ever a fight would be inevitable. There are six mercenaries hired by the one who drove the wagon. Three of whom are swordsmen of diamond rank, two silver-ranked mages, and one iron-ranked healer who was with the other two pushing the wagon from behind.

(Rankings from highest to lowest: Titanium > Diamond > Platinum > Silver > Iron > Steel > Copper. This is the standard ranking that applies to mana pool, swordsman, mages, healers, warriors, and other classes. Except for military rankings, which real-life rankings are applied to this story)

The guardhouse office was built into the wall of the gate entrance. Its facade was adorned with the banner of the barony’s lord; a crimson red background and in front of it was an image of a stone-bricked tower. A small platform and window offered the guards inside a view of those passing through the gate. The mercenaries were met by a sluggish sergeant who sat inside the guardhouse, half asleep, yawning at the face of the leader of the mercenary group. He gestured to his men to conduct inspection on the wagon and ask for identification cards or badges. Beside the sergeant was a highly active recruit who sprang into action, stepping briskly out of the guardhouse to meet the men. His tone was eager as it was his first shift, though practiced, he executed it perfectly and greeted them, trying to mask his inexperience while the other gate guard inspected the wagon and asked the other mercenaries and the persons on the wagon for their identification cards or badges.

“Good evening, Sir, welcome to Nebo, may I ask who is the leader of this group?”

A man in a black cloak stepped forward holding in his right hand his Adventurer’s Guild diamond identification card. Below it was the golden shaped flower, travel permits and other important documents.

“Very well, Sir. Follow me inside the guardhouse and we will process them.” Both the mercenary officer and the recruit entered the office. The mercenary officer’s cloak and boots were dripping with rainwater, leaving small puddles on the cobblestone floor. His frustration was palpable, the weight of the storm, delays, and concern of his client's safety were evident in his sharp gestures.

“Does it take too long to open up those bloody iron gates? I heard that Baron Oliver upgraded it with a capstan to help ye lazy folk to open ‘em gates faster for folks like me soaked in this pissing weather,” the mercenary officer said in a grumpy tone.

“My apologies… Sir?” The sergeant was annoyed but glanced at the mercenary to get him to say his name.

“Rodrick,” the mercenary replied. “I am no knight, Sarge. I was…  but my liege died a long time ago.” His expression was mixed with regret when he spoke.

The sergeant scratched his head and yawned, “Rodrick. In our defense, you and your men arrived this late—” the sergeant was cut off by the new recruit.

“At one AM in the morning, way past gate hours hehe.”

Both the sergeant and mercenary officer stared at him with an intimidating look; the recruit lowered his head.

“Private,” the sergeant spoke, causing the recruit to snap to attention. “Call our scribe Edward to process their papers.”

The recruit gave a salute and hurriedly rushed inside the gate barracks.

“Excuse me, Sarge.” A man came inside the gate office, wearing a deep burgundy cloak, lined with a lighter cream, draped over his shoulders which cascaded to the ground. The cloak’s rich color contrasted with the teal and turquoise underneath the cloak. The man also wore fitted black pants, paired with black leather boots. On his right hand was a small purse full of libo coins, and he handed it to the sergeant, but the sergeant didn’t accept it.

(Author Note: Below are the monetary coins used in the story. The VALUE only applies within the story.

Libo are rectangular shaped gold coins similar to those used during the Edo period in Japan. Value: 1 Libo = Php 1000
Drac are square shaped silver coins borrowed from “Drachma” once used in the ancient kingdom of greece. Value: 1 Drac = Php 100
Ari are round copper coins whose size is similar to that of the previous "Five Philippine pesos coin". Borrowed from the roman copper coins “Assarius:  Value: 1 Ari= Php 10
Dupo are small round coins, its size similar to that of the US penny. Dupo which I borrowed from “Dupondius” , an ancient Roman brass coin. Value: 1 Dupo = Php 1)

“Lord Julius Ray, even though you’re a fifth-generation cousin of my liege, I will not stain my honor and oath with such an unnoble act. Besides, 20 Ari isn’t that much to you, hmmm?”

The sergeant fixed his eyes on Julius with an intimidating glare. The mercenary officer came closer, holding the hilt of his sword and placing his right hand on the sergeant’s left shoulder.

“Sarge, with all due respect, you are talking to a family member of your liege’s house. I am pretty sure there would be consequences for threatening…”

The sergeant turned his gaze to the mercenary, placed his left hand on the hilt of his sword, and released an overwhelming aura. That several of his men fainted to the ground while the mercenaries outside stood their ground, countering the pressure from a diamond rank guard. Their healer dropped to his knee, desperately trying to resist the pressure as blood trickled from his nose.

Back in the gate office, the mercenary officer grinned and unleashed his own aura, the clash of auras cracked the walls of the gate house and the ground shook. Outside the gate, the young woman felt the pressure and release a fraction of her aura to counter the pressure to protect her baby. Both the sergeant and the mercenary officer suddenly withdrew their auras, sensing something far more powerful that sent chills down their spines. Other of the gate guards who didn’t faint unsheathed their swords, scanning their surroundings, trembling.

The mercenary shouted orders to his men to surround the wagon in protective mode. Alarmed by the growing presence of the unknown aura, one of the mercenary mages raised her staff, struck the ground, and chanted Mangita (search). Blue-green circles of light emerged beneath her staff, scanning the area in search of the ominous source.

Outside, the young woman noticed the spell. She dissipated her aura, and raised her right hand on chest level and made a hand sign. Raising only her index and middle finger she chanted Tago (hide). She blended into the shadows, leaving no trace of her presence and magic.

“Is it gone already?” A voice came from below.

The sergeant sighed and saw Julius hiding below the table.

“Oh Lord Julius, never thought you could cowardly hide despite your noble confidence earlier.”

Julius Ray stood hastily from the table and patted the dust from his clothes before speaking.

“One more word from you, peasant, your wife and the whole town will know about your mistress. Also, your head will be placed on a spike for insulting a Noble!”

“I highly doubt my liege would lose one of his 3 diamond rank men whom he invested so much to obtain.”

Before Julius could speak, the recruit and Edward swung the door behind them. Edward, carrying a heavy logbook, respectfully excused himself between Julius and the sergeant. Gently, he placed the logbook on the table breaking the tense standoff.

“Oh, just in time, Edward.”

The sergeant took the documents from the mercenary’s hand and took a libo coin from the purse of Julius and tossed it back to him, who was desperately trying to catch it.

As the squabble between the persons inside the gate office continued, the young woman seized the opportunity to slip by unnoticed. Keeping her head lowered and her movements deliberate since she barely held the spell she placed on herself. She moved into the shadows of the wagon, cautiously moving not to draw any attention, but as she neared the horses, her baby cried within the wicker basket. She hastily unwrapped the Adarna fabric and checked on him while she rocked it gently to lull him back to sleep.

She suddenly found herself face to face with a young boy perched on the driver’s seat, with reins held tightly in his hand. Their eyes locked for five long seconds. The boy was startled by the sight of the disheveled person with a newborn infant before him. He turned to look for his father.

“Father?” said the young boy.

“Not now, Marcus!”

In that split second, the woman wrapped the basket and chanted hangin. Small winds gathered on both her feet, and she darted out from the gate. Disappearing into the lashing rain, making the boy think he saw a ghost.