Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (ink book reader .txt) 📕

that had finally released them from its grip. Despite the many troubles and deaths that accompanied them, the Stumps weren’t going to give up. No matter how naïve it sounded, they were pursuing a noble goal, generously flavored with promises of wealth and honor.

[1] A drink made of jam diluted with water

Chapter 41

3rd Day of the Month Kraig, 322 A.D., The Plains

T he first month of autumn brought with it not only a cold wind, driven from the far mountains forever covered in snow, but also fluffy, heavy clouds that sailed lazily across the low sky, hiding Imaril from view. Here, on the vast plain that separated the civilized world from the land of few forts, castles, and outposts, you needed to wrap yourself up in a thick cloak to keep yourself warm. Unfortunately, Ash had never had such a thing so he clung to his staff, absorbing the heat trapped within the wood.

“How’s that possible?” Mary asked irritably, staring at the mage’s horse.

While she was haggling with the stable boy, the mage had somehow managed to summon his odd horse, which came galloping toward him from the direction of the Forest of Shadows. Guido, as usual, gave everyone a curious sniff as if to check if they’re edible. Wrapped in their cloaks, they were of no interest to him, so he hurried to bother other horses. Unaccustomed to a member of their kin alike to Guido, they were trying to throw off their riders.

In total, seven gold coins had to be paid for the riders. Such an expense made Mary lose her temper, so she was now snapping at the smallest of troubles.

“It’s magical.” Ash shrugged, stroking Guido’s thick neck.

“Everything you own is ‘just magical,’ ” she hissed. In her distress, she added a few too many coins into the expense column that she was writing up in her mind.

“Because I’m a mage.” Ash winked and, bursting out laughing, dodged a slap.

The party moved rather briskly along the road, which was covered with sand and overgrown with weeds. Here, on the plain, there wasn’t a single village that had more than two hundred inhabitants. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising that no one really cared about roads as no one really needed them. Here lived mostly those who had fled from the wrath of their previous kings.

Sometimes, you’d met those who thought that betraying one’s king and running away to live free in the middle of nowhere was much better than living under tyranny. Ternites also came here, looking for a peaceful and quiet place where they could study and train. But more often than not, once could see Aquelas, wandering artists, traveling the endless sea of emerald grass.

The plain, which encompassed all thirteen human kingdoms in a half-circle, was reputed to be the birthplace of the most famous of people. Their fame, unfortunately, wasn’t that gained by chivalrous deeds, but exploits, scandals, as well as theft and other scams.

The Stumps, crossing the lake, went northeast, hurrying to get to Rezaliks as soon as possible. The ever-crimson sky of the Fiery Mountains could be seen looming ahead. These epic mountains, mentioned in many old legends, incessantly ejected gigantic columns of ash and smoke into the air. It was there, on the slopes of these ancient volcanoes, that a flower grew that could heal the king’s daughter.

It had been almost forty days since they had left the walls of the beautiful Mystrit and set out on a long and dangerous journey. The princess had no more than two months left.

“Mary.” Tul pointed his finger at the detailed but rather old map. “The crossing’s here. If we go a bit south, we can cross over the bridge. We won’t lose more than two days.”

Mary took the map and began to carefully study the landmarks, monster dens and hunting grounds, as well as the comments left by the mapmaker. About forty miles separated them from the bridge, which at a good pace wouldn’t take more than a day and a half, but the ford could be reached by the first star. Of course, this would mean getting off the beaten path, which was always dangerous, but when a life was at stake, every second counted.

“We’ll go to the ford then,” She said, returning the map.

While Tul and her were discussing the route, Lari read the scroll that Arlun had given him.

“Is it interesting?” Ash asked as he rode closer.

“Uh-huh.” Lari nodded, continuing to stare at the diagrams covered with lines of small, neat handwriting. He kept biting the tip of his tongue, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. He was well aware that it’d take him no less than six months to learn, and a good couple of years to improve these techniques. Though, that was nothing compared to what Arlun had to go through. He had probably spent at least seven years inventing and another seven polishing the skill.

“Did you know that a sword can be transformed without magic?” Lari asked, reading the description of the Blade Aura Technique.

“Really? I’ve never heard of it!!” Ash replied. He did know, but there was no need for his friend to know that.

“Uh-huh.” Lari nodded again, most likely, he didn’t even hear the answer, immersed in reading.

They were getting closer and closer to the high mountains. Forever cold and white, they seemed like the fangs of some monster, chained and buried in the frigid ground. Baring its teeth, it tried to crack open the lid of its coffin and break free.

Ash smiled, remembering his first time in these mountains.

 16th Day of the Month Zund, 312 A.D., the Drunken Monk Era, the Eastern Boarder

The edge of the world. How many songs have been sung about this mysterious place? How many poems have been composed, stories written, and legends retold? Some say that