RISING OF THE GOLEM KING FROM ZERO TO HERO, Volume 1, Part One by H. L. Watson - HTML preview

Chapter 17

The morning after collecting my new ward Dahlia, I made my way to the stables where I was housing my newly acquired horses and carriage. The sky overhead displayed a tapestry of muted blues and grays, dawn's light still struggling to pierce through the scattered clouds. The cobblestone streets of Azure Reach glistened with morning dew, the stones worn smooth by years of wagon wheels and foot traffic. A few days earlier, after contracting with the Mercenaries Guild, I had instructed my newly hired bodyguards to meet me at this location so that we could finally depart from the city.

The stables occupied a sprawling structure on the city's eastern edge, its weathered timber frame speaking of decades of service to travelers and merchants. As I approached, the distinctive pungent aroma of hay, manure, and leather tack intensified, mingling with the earthy scent of animals and the sharp tang of metal from the adjacent blacksmith's forge. The familiar sounds of horses nickering, stable hands shouting instructions, and the rhythmic scraping of shovels against stone flooring created the background symphony of a place where journeys began. Dahlia walked quietly beside me, her pink hair neatly braided and tucked beneath a practical traveling cap. Her eyes darted nervously from side to side, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with the wariness of someone unaccustomed to such freedom of movement. Her hands fidgeted with the fabric of her new traveling dress—simple but of better quality than anything she had worn as a slave in Jiren's household.

"Have you ever traveled outside the city before?" I asked, hoping to ease her obvious tension. She shook her head, eyes widening slightly. "No, master—I mean, sir." A flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks at the slip. "Mother and I were always confined to the estate."

"This will be a new experience for both of us, then," I replied, offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "The capital is said to be quite different from Azure Reach." As we walked through the stables' main entrance, the building's cavernous interior opened before us. Rows of stalls stretched in orderly lines, each housing various beasts of burden. The space echoed with sounds that bounced off the high wooden ceiling, where dust motes danced in the streams of light filtering through small windows set high in the walls. Alongside the familiar striped horses that had become commonplace sights in my time here, I was taken aback by creatures I'd never encountered before. They resembled a cross between a goat and what my world would call a yeti—massive, shaggy beasts with powerful builds and curved horns that spiraled from their broad foreheads. These creatures stood a full head taller than my own five-foot seven-inch frame, their muscular shoulders easily reaching six and a half feet. Their coats ranged from pure white to mottled gray, thick and seemingly impervious to the elements.

"Mountain brays," a passing stable hand explained, noticing my curious stare. "From the northern territories. Surefooted in rough terrain and stronger than any horse. Cost more than a year's wages for most folk, though."

I nodded my thanks for the information, marveling at the exotic ecology of this world. Each day seemed to bring new discoveries, reminders that despite my growing familiarity with Iriddoria, I had barely scratched the surface of its wonders and complexities. Consulting the small map the stablemaster had provided, I navigated through the labyrinthine structure toward stall B6 where my team and carriage awaited. The stalls were arranged alphabetically by row, with numbers designating individual compartments. The stable's organized system spoke to the efficiency required to manage the countless animals and vehicles that passed through its doors.

As we neared our destination, the distinctive sound of voices in conversation grew louder. Rounding the corner to row B, I was surprised to find a gathering of people clustered near my stall. The carriage I had purchased stood behind their stall on the outside yard, presumably positioned for easier access when hitching the team.

My steps slowed as I assessed the unexpected assembly. Four large, heavily armed individuals stood in a loose semicircle, their postures alert and professional. Each wore functional leather armor reinforced with metal plates at critical points, and an impressive array of weapons hung from their belts and baldrics. They were provisioned for extended travel, with weatherproof cloaks and sturdy boots that showed signs of many miles already traversed. Their faces, marked by scars and weather, told stories of battles survived and hardships endured.

Behind these formidable figures stood three smaller forms draped in white robes with distinctively embroidered colored borders. One figure, clearly male judging by his broader shoulders and stance, wore a robe trimmed with vibrant red embroidery that seemed to catch and reflect the light in an almost unnatural manner. The intricate patterns resembled flames frozen in fabric, creating an illusion of movement even when still.

To his right stood a female figure in a robe adorned with green embroidery. The detailed patterns evoked images of intertwining vines and unfurling leaves, the stitching so fine that the borders appeared to be growing rather than sewn. The third robed figure, another female, wore blue-embroidered borders depicting stylized waves that seemed to flow around the edges of her garment with remarkable artistry.

The designs were unlike any I had encountered in Azure Reach, suggesting origins from distant regions of the empire or perhaps beyond its borders entirely. Their mysterious presence and unusual attire immediately piqued my curiosity.

Most surprisingly of all, Amy stood among them, dressed in practical yet stylish traveling clothes of sturdy brown leather and forest-green fabric. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical braid, and her blue eyes scanned the stables with the watchfulness of someone accustomed to assessing threats. A significant amount of luggage surrounded her feet—several packs, a trunk, and various cases of different sizes arranged in a carefully balanced pile. The group noticed our approach almost immediately. Dahlia moved slightly closer to me, intimidated by the sudden attention from so many unfamiliar faces. The armed individuals assessed us with the calculated gaze of professional warriors, while the robed figures remained more inscrutable, their features partially hidden beneath their hoods. Amy's face brightened with recognition, and she took a step toward us, waving. The unexpected gathering left me bewildered, and I couldn't contain my confusion as we drew near. "I only contracted two bodyguards from the Mercenaries Guild; this is an excessive number," I stated, my tone betraying my perplexity. The four armed individuals exchanged glances but maintained their disciplined silence.

Amy stepped forward, a confident smile playing across her lips. "Eric! You're right on time." She gestured toward the mercenaries with a sweeping motion of her hand. "I made some adjustments to your travel arrangements."

The familiar sound of her voice—the California accent that reminded me so powerfully of Earth—momentarily distracted me from my growing irritation at finding my carefully made plans altered.

"Why did you intervene with my hiring, Amy?" I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice. Behind me, I felt Dahlia shrink back slightly, sensing the tension.

Amy met my gaze directly, her posture relaxed yet somehow defiant. The morning light caught in her blonde hair, highlighting streaks of gold that I hadn't noticed during our reunion at the guild. "I dismissed the two mercenaries you'd hired," she admitted without a hint of apology in her tone.

My eyebrows rose involuntarily. "And why, pray tell, would you do that?" Amy leaned closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper that carried the scent of mint leaves, suggesting she'd recently chewed some to freshen her breath. "I've contracted four from the guild. Trustworthy ones." Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "And guess what? For the same price as the duo you picked."

Disbelief must have shown clearly on my face. "How did you manage that?" The guild's rates had seemed inflexible during my negotiations.

A smirk lifted one corner of her mouth, creating a dimple in her right cheek. "They owe me. Each of them." She straightened, brushing an imaginary speck from her sleeve. "Let's just say I've got some leverage in the guild."

The vague explanation only deepened my curiosity, but more pressing questions demanded answers. "But why go through all this trouble?"

Amy's expression softened, the confidence in her demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. She sighed, the sound barely audible above the ambient noise of the stables. "I genuinely wanted to pay you back for the kindness you showed me when you helped me purchase my freedom." She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the seam of her leather vest. "And..." Her gaze lifted to meet mine again, a mixture of determination and uncertainty swimming in her blue eyes. "I want to come with you on your journey." The unexpected admission caught me off guard. My mind raced through the implications of having Amy join our traveling party. Her presence would certainly complicate matters, especially given the responsibilities I already bore for Dahlia's wellbeing. Yet I couldn't deny a certain relief at the prospect of having another person from Earth along—someone who understood the strange displacement of being torn from our world and thrust into this one. Taking several deep breaths to compose myself, I considered her actions more objectively. While her methods were presumptuous, her intentions appeared genuinely helpful. I studied the four mercenaries more carefully, noting their physical condition and equipment. My teacher Eldon had once explained the combat class system during our lessons on practical survival. Combat classes were generally divided into two primary categories: melee classes and spell classes. In total, the system recognized eleven distinct combat classes, or twelve if one included Tinkerers, though we were typically classified as utility rather than combat specialists. The melee classes included Berserkers, Warriors, Martial Artists, Holy Knights, and Shapeshifters. Spell classes comprised Priests, Arcanists, Pact-Makers, Arcane Scholars, Scouts, and Thieves. Each brought unique capabilities to battle situations, with various strengths and weaknesses that made certain combinations particularly effective. Assessing the group before me, I identified what appeared to be two Warriors, judging by their balanced armor and weapon arrangements; a Berserker, recognizable by the distinctive battle-axe strapped across his broad back and the ritual scarification visible on his forearms; and a Scout, whose lighter armor and array of small throwing weapons suggested specialized training in reconnaissance and ranged combat.

The combination was tactically sound—better, I had to admit, than the two general mercenaries I had contracted. Still, Amy's presumption rankled.

"In the future," I said firmly, pitching my voice to carry clearly without shouting, "consult with me before making assumptions about my preferences and decisions." The words came out more harshly than intended, and I saw a flash of hurt cross Amy's features before her expression hardened into annoyance.

She crossed her arms, her posture becoming defensive, but she didn't press the matter further. An uncomfortable silence fell over the group, broken only by the distant sounds of the stable's activities and the occasional snort from the horses in nearby stalls. Clearing my throat, I shifted my attention to the remaining mystery. "Alright, I understand the presence of the four mercenaries you've brought along, but what about the other three hooded figures?" I gestured toward the white-robed individuals who had remained silent throughout our exchange.

Amy's gaze followed mine, her brow furrowing slightly. "Honestly?" she began, her voice edged with undisguised exasperation, "I don't have a clue."

My surprise must have been evident, because she quickly continued. "You don't know them?" I asked, glancing back at the robed figures with renewed wariness. Amy shrugged, the gesture communicating both indifference and frustration. "They were already here when I arrived. I tried telling them you wouldn't need any more help than I'd organized." She sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically enough that it seemed performed for effect. "But they wouldn't budge."

She shifted her weight, adjusting the strap of her traveling pack with a quick, irritated movement. "I suggested they leave, but they refused to listen or even discuss the matter." My frown deepened as I considered the implications. "Did they give any reasons?" Amy shook her head, blonde braid swinging with the motion. "None whatsoever. They just stood there, as if waiting for something or someone."

Both of us turned to study the mysterious trio more carefully. The stable's ambient sounds seemed to fade as tension thickened the air between us. Whatever their reasons for being there, it was clear they had their own agenda, one that might not align with our plans. Deciding to address the situation directly, I stepped forward, my attention focused on the robed figures. Two appeared female based on their stature and the subtle curves visible beneath their robes, while the third, slightly taller with broader shoulders, was clearly male. Before I could speak, Amy leaned close, the scent of mint stronger as she whispered urgently in my ear. "You should send them away; we don't require their services, and they'll only incur additional expenses." The warmth of her breath against my ear sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. My irritation flared again at her continued presumption, but I reminded myself that she was merely attempting to be helpful, however misguided her approach. Gathering my composure, I addressed the group directly. "May I inquire about your presence here?" I directed my question toward the red-robed man, assuming based on his slightly forward position that he might be the leader of their small contingent. To my surprise, it was one of the women who responded. The figure in the blue-trimmed robe stepped forward gracefully and lowered her hood, revealing a face that momentarily robbed me of breath.

Honey-brown hair cascaded in gentle waves around a face of extraordinary beauty. Her most striking feature, however, was her eyes—large, almond-shaped, and an unusual violet color that caught the stable's diffuse light with hypnotic intensity. Her features possessed a delicate quality that reminded me of elven descriptions from fantasy literature in my world—high cheekbones, a petite nose, and lips that curved naturally into a gentle expression. The woman carried herself with unmistakable poise, suggesting noble birth or upbringing. Her beauty was entirely natural, lacking the artificial enhancement of makeup or filters that had become so common in the social media landscape of Earth. The effect was both startling and mesmerizing. I caught myself staring and attempted to recover my composure, only to feel Amy's sharp elbow in my ribs, a none-too-subtle reminder to maintain my dignity. The woman cleared her throat, the sound musical even in its ordinariness. When she spoke, her voice matched her appearance—melodious and refined, with the careful enunciation characteristic of educated nobility.

"Greetings, fellow traveler. My name is Eira, and I have come to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement that I believe will be advantageous to both parties involved." She leaned forward slightly, an expression of earnestness animating her features. The movement released a subtle fragrance—something like lavender mixed with an unfamiliar spice—that added to her otherworldly presence.

"We've been in this city for a few days now," she continued, one slender hand rising to tuck a wayward strand of honey-brown hair behind her ear. The gesture was casual yet somehow elegant. "And we've come to know that our group, as well as yours, are bound for the capital." My interest piqued despite my wariness. "The capital? You three are also headed to Valoria?" Eira nodded, the motion fluid and graceful. Her violet eyes held mine with surprising intensity. "It's imperative we get there, but the path is fraught with danger." The stable's ambient noises seemed to recede as our conversation deepened. A shaft of sunlight broke through the high windows, illuminating dust motes that danced between us like tiny stars. "Your group," I ventured, connecting the pieces of this unexpected puzzle, "they're mainly spellcasters, aren't they?" The distinctive robes with their elemental-themed embroidery suggested magical specialization, a perfect complement to the physical combat capabilities of the mercenaries.

A wry smile curved Eira's lips, transforming her already beautiful face into something that would have launched ships in ancient times. "Yes, our strength lies in magic. But magic alone is not always enough, and given our precious cargo, we must ensure that we take every available precaution to ensure safe passage."

The implication was clear. "You want our groups to travel together." She inclined her head in acknowledgment, her violet eyes never leaving mine. "There's strength in numbers. And with your group's prowess in physical combat and our magical abilities, we'd stand a better chance against any threat."

The logic was sound. A combined party with both melee and magical capabilities would be far better prepared for the various dangers that might await us on the road to Valoria. Still, caution demanded I consider all aspects of this unexpected proposal. Before I could respond, Amy interjected, her voice sharp with territorial defensiveness. "We have no need for spell classes. We already have all the protection we require." She punctuated her statement by grabbing my arm and pulling me closer to her side, her fingers digging into the fabric of my sleeve with surprising strength.

The unexpected physical contact both surprised and discomfited me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dahlia's expression transform from nervous observation to indignation. "Leave my master alone!" Dahlia's voice rang out, higher and more forceful than I had ever heard it. Her pink hair seemed to bristle with outrage as she stepped forward. "Quit accosting him with your vulgarity!"

Amy's head whipped around, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "Who is this brat speaking to me in such a manner?" The tension in her voice matched the sudden stiffness of her posture. Realizing the situation could quickly deteriorate, I raised my voice to interrupt the brewing confrontation. "Ladies, please calm down." The command came out more authoritatively than intended, silencing both women immediately.

I turned to Amy, gently but firmly removing her hand from my arm. "This is Dahlia, my ward and newly hired serving girl." Addressing her directly, I added with unmistakable firmness, "Do not presume to make decisions for me. I find it increasingly bothersome." Amy released her grip, taking a half-step back. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, annoyance evident in every line of her body, but she remained silent. Returning my attention to Eira, who had observed the exchange with a politely neutral expression, I asked the practical question. "Would you and your party require any payment for accompanying us on this journey?"

Eira shook her head without hesitation, the motion causing her honey-brown hair to catch the light in a momentary shimmer. "We have all the necessary supplies and funds for our journey. We will not be a burden."

Her posture straightened slightly, hands clasped before her in a formal gesture. "We understand your concerns and will make separate camp arrangements during the journey to avoid imposing on your resources. Our only desire is to ensure a safe journey for both parties." The stable fell quiet around us, as if the very building held its breath awaiting my decision. The practical benefits of traveling with spellcasters were undeniable. Melee fighters could defend against physical threats, but magical attacks required magical counters. Moreover, healing magic could prove invaluable if injuries occurred during our journey. After carefully weighing the considerations, strategic advantage outweighed my initial hesitation. With a decisive nod, I accepted their proposal. "Your company would be welcome." Eira's response was immediate and transformative—a smile of such genuine warmth and appreciation that it seemed to physically brighten the dim stable interior. The authenticity of her reaction solidified my confidence in our arrangement.

Amy, standing to my side, crossed her arms over her chest, her posture broadcasting her continued displeasure. "Fine," she muttered, the word barely audible over the stable's background noise, "but if they come with us, they had better keep their distance." Eira's serene expression never faltered. She inclined her head toward Amy in a gesture of acknowledgment that somehow managed to be both respectful and slightly regal. "I assure you, we will respect your space and work together only when necessary. Our primary goal is to reach the capital safely."

An awkward silence threatened to descend once more, but I prevented it by extending my hand toward Eira in the universal gesture of agreement. "Very well, welcome to the party."

She regarded my outstretched hand with momentary confusion, as if unfamiliar with the custom. Instead of taking it in a traditional handshake, she reached forward and grasped my forearm in a warrior's grip, her slender fingers surprisingly strong against my sleeve. "For the length of this journey, we are siblings in arms," she declared, violet eyes intense with conviction. "I will strive to honor and uphold my responsibility to you, as I hope you will reciprocate in return."

The formal pledge caught me off guard. When she released her grip, a lingering warmth remained where her hand had touched. The contact, though brief, left an impression that distracted me momentarily from the task at hand.

Clearing my throat, I addressed the assembled group with newfound purpose. "Alright, everyone, let's get the supplies and luggage loaded onto the coach." The mundane task of preparation would provide structure to this unexpectedly complicated morning. As we began transferring items to the wagon, the practical reality of our expanded party became apparent. The vehicle I had purchased, while spacious for a small group, could not possibly accommodate all our combined supplies. Bags, packs, and crates accumulated beside the coach, clearly exceeding its capacity.

"There's no way all of this will fit," one of the mercenaries observed, stating the obvious with gruff practicality.

Eira, who had been consulting quietly with her companions, approached once more. "Worry not," she offered, her voice carrying easily despite its gentle tone. "We have a wagon of our own with ample space for the remaining luggage that won't fit on yours. We're happy to share the space."

The offer resolved our immediate logistical problem. With grateful acknowledgment, I accepted her solution, mentally reorganizing our travel formation to account for the additional vehicle. As the loading continued, my gaze fell on Amy's substantial collection of luggage—far more than seemed reasonable for a journey, even one of considerable distance. Curiosity mingled with concern about how she had spent the money I'd given her for her freedom. "Amy," I ventured, keeping my tone conversational rather than accusatory, "what did you buy with the funds I gave you? It seems like we have a lot of unnecessary supplies." Her posture stiffened defensively, hands moving to her hips in a posture of challenge. "Well, I wanted to make sure we were well-prepared for the journey. You never know what we might encounter along the way."

The vague explanation did little to address my concerns. The sum I had provided would have been more than sufficient to secure not only her freedom but also establish a modest new life if managed judiciously. The extravagant purchases suggested either poor judgment or priorities I didn't fully understand.

However, confronting her further seemed counterproductive given the tasks still before us and the journey about to begin. She was now a free woman, entitled to make her own decisions— even if those decisions might not be the ones I would have made in her position. With mental shrug, I returned my focus to the practical matters of our departure. The unexpected additions to our traveling party promised to make the journey to Valoria more interesting than I had anticipated. Whether that would prove beneficial or problematic remained to be seen, but the die was cast. Our combined fortunes would play out on the road ahead.