In the Shadow of Mountains - a litRPG adventure

‘There are 3 things all wise men fear; the sea in a storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle-‘

*Door crashes open*

“Get on your hands, knees in the air!”

*Sirens blare*

“NO! I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, I just wanted something to say, I-”

“No excuses! That’s 30 years in the can for quote stealing. Tag him boys, let’s move.”

“Nathlan…what’s the deal with the World Tree?” I asked, keeping my breathing even as we jogged in a mile-eating lope towards the open horizon.

Vera and Jorge were far ahead of us, their silhouettes wavering in and out of focus as the sun continued to rise. The heat was now palpable, beating down on our heads as we moved. It had been easy to ignore as we travelled further east out of the Wandering States, since the weeks of monsoon rains kept us cool and a brisk wind from the north took away the heat when it arrived afterwards.

But now we were nearly out of the great grass sea and into the unofficial borderlands between the Wandering States and the city-states that dotted the wilderness on its border. The heat was starting to become an issue, and the environment was changing along with it.

The undulating emerald grasses that had stretched to the ends of my view for over a month were abating, with sand dunes springing up intermittently, and sheltering their own little oases of rugged bushes and reeds. We had begun to pass still bodies of water, some no larger than puddles but some stretching almost to the edge of our vision.

The great grass sea had broken against the dunes and the very earth was a testament to this battle. Rather than tightly packed dirt bound together by uncountable thin roots, the ground began to soften, giving way to pebble-dash and sand. Enterprising reeds and gnarled, twisted trees clung resolutely to their little kingdoms, carving out a small domain over which periodic rains could not wash their roots from.

The running was harder work than usual because of the uneven ground, and I hadn’t noticed how used to running on soft, flat, and stable ground I had become until it was taken away. My Cloven-Hooved skill had seen more growth today than over the last two weeks combined.

Nathlan looked at me side-long as he replied, “What do you mean? We’ve told you about it before, haven’t we?” His response snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah, roughly. But I mean…like why is it so significant when ‘the world Tree stirs’?” I raised my hands and put on my best mystical impression at the last bit and Nathlan smiled at my antics.

“…and empires fall’. That’s a simultaneously simple and complex question, Lamb-”

I interrupted him before he could really get going. “Yeah, no I get it. Give me the simple version first, right?” I then juked to the side to avoid his hand as he shot it out to flick me in the shoulder.

“Okay. Simply put, the World Tree grants a large amount of power to a small number of individuals. There tends to be a trend towards centralisation in society through the ages – city-states trade amongst one another, and as technology improves and cultural ties deepen, they form larger kingdoms.

“This leads to prosperity, but there is more room for squabble over who controls and benefits from the greater prosperity, combined with relatively weaker ties to overcome such strife. Territories expand outwards in search of greater resources to supress the internal struggle, and empires are born. These larger political entities are more likely to encounter one another, and wars inevitably break out, decimating entire swaths of the world with the resultant magics that are wielded.”

I was tempted to interrupt him, prod him to get to the point, but I had to admit it was impressive to see how he could spin an entire lecture from nothing within moments, without missing a step. No filler words for Nathlan the wise, just pure information injected straight into your ears. The thought made me grin to myself, but luckily Nathlan was not one to be distracted when he got going.

“The World Tree is understood by most to seek stability. Its interests – If they truly exist and are not just governed by blind instinct or complete randomness – are in keeping the world whole and intact. It therefore acts as a counter to powerful states by empowering individuals far beyond anything that others could hope to achieve. A great mage may have lived for a few centuries and been able to bring down a Dragon or Leviathan or Giant – with years of preparation, an entire city’s worth of resources, and a healthy dose of luck – but an individual empowered by a seed of the world tree can match that feat within a few years of growth. Alone.”

“Right, but how does that lead to more stability? Surely empowering people far beyond the norm simply creates more conflict?”

“Yes, but only in the short term. This leads to one of the most widely studied phenomena of the World Tree that still has no conclusive answer – who it chooses to gift. To cut an entire avenue of research down into a single sentence; overwhelmingly powerful individuals create change in the societies they exist within. Empires fall because they are filled with inherent contradictions, and a sudden influx of powerful individuals from across all walks of society end up playing out those contradictions in bloody conflict. A slave state may be relatively stable, but there is a constant struggle between those who benefit from the slave labour, and those who are forced into slavery to serve them. Imagine what happens when a handful of the slaves are suddenly gifted with power to change things?”

“I can see where you’re going, but surely its not just the slaves that are gifted power? What about the slavers themselves? I thought you said the World Tree was amoral. Empowering slaves certainly seems like a moral stance from where I stand.”

He ducked his head in acknowledgement, before refuting my point. A polite show of respect before showing me how I was wrong – very Nathlan.

“No, you’re correct. But consider that gifting the slavers power doesn’t mean they will win – most slave states are inherently unstable and only persist because the slaves do not believe they can win their freedom – even a failed rebellion weakens the state significantly. And consider also that it is not just those two groups that are gifted power anyway. How does the disrespected but still powerful merchant class react when given power? What if we consider ethnic or religious tensions as well? Other empires and kingdoms? Roaming powers and natural calamities?”

I admired the way the sunlight glinted off hazy green and yellow dunes. The rolling plains had held an ethereal beauty, an agelessness that soothed my soul, but now that I was leaving, I couldn’t deny that I was looking forward to some variety. I was born of the mountains after all, and I needed to feel the terrain around me move and shift constantly to truly feel in touch with the world.

I let the words roll through my mind as I considered them, trying to tease understanding from the knowledge and largely failing. There was simply too much context I was still missing about the world.

“The point is, Lamb, that empires have a thousand different divisions and conflicts simmering under the surface, so there are always desperate people willing to do anything to change things. If you hand out incredible power just to random people, they will use it to further their own interests and that will bring conflict with other groups. Conflict breads instability, and the empires will eventually collapse. The World Tree therefore acts as a check on political centralisation, and prevents any single entity from growing too powerful.”

Again, I considered the words and found myself out of my depth. But there was something niggling away. I used Heart of the Hills to clear my head and focus on the feeling of dissonance, tracing back the arguments to see what was pinging as significant to me.

“But then how come there are a bunch of empires running around now? I get that the Sunset Kingdoms are constantly in flux, but there are well-established empires and large kingdoms that still exist now – how come they haven’t fallen yet? What about the Ashkanians – they were around for ages weren’t they?”

As soon as I uttered the sentence aloud though, my heart dropped. Why hadn’t they fallen yet?

Nathlan replied but I dismissed his answer as soon as I heard it. “Sorry I should have led with this – this is all pre-system. Following the creation of the system and its structuring of wild magic, states are much more stable than before – that’s why the gods are still overwhelmingly popular, despite their lack of engagement with their worshippers. Most of them anyway.

“No, the World Tree hasn’t stirred in centuries now, and cleansings have grown much more rare in general as far as we can tell, which is one of the main points in favour of the stability theory. States are stable and unlikely to grow too large, mostly due to the existence of the system, and so the World Tree simply slumbers. We may never see it stir again.”

I knew that he was wrong though. Not about the god stuff – I knew nothing about that and would take his word for it. I was even worse placed to discuss the stability of pre-system vs post-system political states. No, he was wrong to say that the World Tree wouldn’t stir again, and only I knew.

I considered telling him then and there, I really did, but I needed more information first. So, I took a cautious approach – not a coward’s one, I forcefully told myself – and spoke again.

“So the World Tree keeps the world safe and stable by indirectly causing the destruction of any polity powerful enough to destroy significant chunks of it?”

“In essence, yes. Bear in mind this is all conjecture – as far as I know there is no firm conclusion on this subject, even from those who study the great tree directly. Especially from those few, I should say.”

“Right, and that was pre-system. Is that why Jorge was talking about cycles when he first tried to explain the world to me? What about post-system?” I asked.

Nathlan nodded again, a gleam entering his eyes as he engaged with an attentive pupil. Despite his ostensible joy at his new class, I sometimes wondered if he wouldn’t be happier as a teacher of some kind, raising a support class as he lectured to students throughout the world. It was an idle thought though, and I quickly refocused when he answered my question.

“Yes, and yes. I’m surprised you remember that to be honest. Post-system, there has only been a single cleansing – at least if you take Nathlan the Ancient’s reading of history – which I do, by the way. Siliantros is one of the more highly regarded scholars that disagrees and suggests a total of three cleansings, and others still posit a half dozen. Only one has been total though, and that was the cleansing that wiped out the Ashkanians roughly a thousand years ago.”

I yawned, again watching the scenery disappear beneath our steady strides. “Any of those geniuses have a guess at why the system has that effect?”

“I can see I’m losing you, so I’ll try and summarise it your way; Everyone’s more careful when an old monster could be living in the village next door.” I nodded, and he seemed to take it as permission to carry on.

“You see, the system democratises power. Skills grant mastery with time and intent – and danger in your case…our case now I suppose? – regardless, rare knowledge and experienced teachers are no longer required. Experimentation and drive are all that is needed to truly excel. That’s not to say that nepotism doesn’t still exist and class distinctions have vanished by any means but there has been a marked reduction in inequality- hey wait!”

I had started increasing my pace as he droned on, partly in a desire to get away from another lecture, and partly to see how fast he could go before he had to shut up and focus. I’d learned part of what I needed to start unravelling the puzzle the Giant had presented and didn’t want to push too far too soon.

I grinned over my shoulder at him as I heard him shout and opened my stride further, racing to catch the two figures on the horizon.

We travelled for two more weeks after reaching the edge of the steppes, and the environment changed rapidly. Sandy desert and rocky plateaus dominated the landscape, and the colours of gold and orange were seared into my soul. After spending so long in a green haze, I was expecting to rejoice in the varied colours of a new world, but I quickly became bored with unceasing sun beating down upon parched land.

It was with great enthusiasm then that I welcomed Jorge’s pronouncement of our arrival. We were entering the city state of Colchet apparently, although I couldn’t see any evidence of that. Nothing in the surroundings gave any clue, but Jorge must have read my mind because he pointed towards a rocky outcropping less than a mile away. We gathered round to squint over as he began to speak.

“Right, listen up. We’re now in Colchet territory. That over there is a waystation. Doesn’t look like much, I’ll grant, but just trust me on that for now. That means it’s time we have a little chat and go over the rules. Yes, there are rules.” He glanced meaningfully at me at the end, and I looked back with as innocent expression as I could muster. Nathlan snickered.

“Shouldn’t be any major cultural shocks in Colchet for either of you, Lamb and Nathlan, and we’ve been here together before right, Vera?” She nodded and he continued. “So, as I said, nothing too major. When we first arrive, I want us to stick together and get a place to stay. Vera will go and check out the state of play – make sure there’s nothing dangerous we need to know about. I’ll go and check in with my contacts, but I want both of you to stay put for a day or so until Vera gives the all-clear. Just in case.”

“Is there something wrong with Colchet then? What are you worried about?” I asked, surprised at the level of caution.

He hesitated for a moment. “Not exactly. Colchet is built within a canyon that goes deep. Think Iona Chasm deep, although without the dead god as far as I know.”

“Wait what? Woah woah woah. Dead god!?”

“Did…did I not mention that the Iona Chasm was the resting place of a dead god?” Jorge looked sheepish for a moment before his face lit up again. “No, I definitely remember telling you not to go down there. If you’d have listened, no harm done right? That one’s on you Lamb.” He looked at me smugly.

“He’s got you there” Vera chimed in, showing her support for Jorge and leaving me turning to Nathlan with shock.

“I’m not being crazy here, am I? That’s something you should mention, right!?” I asked him. He just laughed and clapped me on the shoulder, “I promise to tell you if I see any dead gods, Lamb.”

Jorge clapped his hands to regain our attention and he continued speaking, over some quiet grumbling from me. “So, the canyon is deep, and sometimes creatures come up from the depths to bother the city. They have a relatively powerful and well-trained defence force, but generally the city goes into lockdown during these events, and it can be a bit lawless as the guards are all busy. Just keep an eye out and be careful.”

“Rule 1 – as I’ve already said, don’t go anywhere till Vera gives the all-clear.”

He looked firmly at me and Nathlan again, as if we were naughty children he suspected would run off and get kidnapped at the first opportunity. Like the good little disobedient child I was, I poked my tongue out at him, eliciting a badly concealed smirk.

“Rule 2 – Don’t get in any duels. Especially if the person asking for one has any visible scars on their arms or faces.”

Vera interrupted. “I think that waters down your rule. No duels period. Scars are irrelevant.”

Jorge looked at her askance. “I thought I made that clear. No duels.”

I butted in at that point, realising that this conversation was already going off-rails and I could help destabilise it further. “Yeah, I’m with the big lady on this one. I’m now just wondering if I should risk a duel as long as the challenger has no scars. You’ve taken a very simple and strong statement and diluted it into a mushy soup of nuance. How many scars? What if they have scars but no legs and only one arm? What if they have no scars but are like super jacked or something?”

Jorge seemed about to retort but instead he suddenly grinned, and I felt a hand close around my shoulder. A very strong, calloused, and heavy hand. I felt her breath whisper against my neck as Vera spoke directly into my ear from behind. “Call me ‘the big lady’ again, and you’ll get a very comprehensive idea of just how deep Colchet’s canyon is.” Somehow, she managed to inject enough threat into that single sentence that it almost sounded like a growl to my ears, despite the fact she was whispering.

“Okay okay, no duels. Thank you for clarifying oh benevolent one, I will never besmirch your holy name again.” I squeaked, gaining confidence with every word until I received a gentle cuff on the back of the head. Jorge chuckled and we grouped up once again.

“Rule 3 – Nathlan you will stay with Lamb, handle cultural matters on his behalf and generally keep him out of trouble. He will do the same to you, although probably less effectively – sorry Lamb – so don’t fuck up too badly alright?”

“Not to get scolded again for pulling us all off-track but this seems less like a universal rule for us to follow and more a specific instruction to Nathlan only.”

“Rule 4 – Lamb only speaks when asked to do so directly by me.” All faces turned towards me with depressingly unsympathetic expressions, so I raised my hands and accepted defeat.

“Right, that should do it. Let’s go and see what delights civilisation has awaiting us!” He clapped his hands again and strode off towards the rocky outpost he’d pointed out to begin with, and we filed after him like a small gaggle of ducklings trailing their mother.

We reached the ‘waystation’ and I stood confused for a few moments before a deep rumble sounded. The rock slab before Jorge, roughly 3 meters wide and flecked with lichen, shuddered before drawing in and then sliding to the side with the sound of heavy stone grinding against earth. I looked around but could see no mechanism apparent, until I caught sight of a couple of horns vanishing behind a boulder at the top of the outcrop.

Jorge strode confidently in towards the now empty tunnel that the rock slab had exposed, and Vera gave me a gentle shove forwards before I could remark on what I’d seen. When Nathlan brought up the rear, the slab rolled back into place with a rumble. It was completely dark for a few moments, but Vera’s heavy hand returned to my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. The reassurance I took from that simple gesture was unexpected.

A soft blue glow then appeared before us, and Jorge began to move forward. I followed, and once we started moving, I saw that a wall-mounted sconce held a wooden pole. It looked like a torch, although rather than the familiar orange glow of dancing flames, a cool blue light emanated from the head.

Once I was level with it, I could finally make out the details of the torch head. An intricate, intertwined loop of thin branches, converging together at the point, almost like a tree grown around a pear with honeycombed gaps throughout. It was beautifully complex but somehow still natural, no evidence of seams or joinery present, although I suppose the best joinery would be hard to see.

Moments before I reached the torch, another one lit up ahead of us, probably only a dozen meters in front, although with the slight curve of the tunnel it was hard to judge the distance well. We walked in silence for possibly a tenth of a bell, my first few questions hushed before I got the hint and just observed.

Blue fire lit our way, and I noticed after a while that the torches behind us started to wink out as we moved, such that we were left floating in a gently glowing tunnel, detached from any sensation of distance and scale.

Before the unsettling feelings this dislocation caused within me could blossom into panic and force me to break the silence, something changed. I saw a blue glow up ahead, beyond the bounds of our light. It resolved into a chamber, lit by a grand bonfire, burning away with the same blue flame. As we stepped moved closer, the scale began to settle in my mind, and I was suitably awed.

A chamber curved around in a circle ahead, at least as wide as two pine trees laid end to end, with the same naturally grown, unnaturally lit torches set into sconces at regular intervals. It had a dozen entrances set about the room and a bright bonfire burning in the centre of the room, although on closer inspection this too was in the same form as the torches, albeit on a much grander scale and giving out a commensurate amount of light.

Eleven of the entrances looked similar to the ones we had come from, leading to dark hallways curving away; some up, some down, but none likely to intersect as far as I could tell. The twelfth – thirteenth if you counted our tunnel mouth – was different.

Where each entrance had a scribble of runes above it, the thirteenth was carved with exacting precision. It held an artistic quality that the other runes lacked, and was far more complex in its scope and detail. Lines of runes covered the sides and top of the blocky entrance, and I leaned forwards to attempt to decipher the runes.

At that moment though, three figures strode out of the darkness. Bright red gowns covered their torsos and flowed down to their knees. Below their bare legs they wore sturdy sandals, with an upturned toe covering, presumably to prevent sand and grit from breaching the front of the sandal and rubbing the toes beneath raw.

All three had rectangular shields secured to their backs by leather harnesses, and short spears strapped beneath, peaking over their shoulders. They wore no prominent armour otherwise that I could see, although the two on either side of the central figure wore metal helmets with swooping horns pointing at the sky. The warrior in the middle held her helmet slung under one arm and brought the other up in a lazy wave as she spoke.

“Hold there. You speak Ashtani?” She said, voice rich and deep, and clearly used to command. Jorge again stepped forwards in front of us, drawing the focus of all three warriors.

“Yes. We to visit Colchet. You assist?” I winced at his strange inflection. I’d gotten so used to the wise man knowing everything that I was surprised to hear him sound unsure about anything. The woman didn’t hesitate at the mistake, obviously used to traders and strangers fumbling the local language.

“Your purpose?”

“Visit. Trade. Old friend has…information? I check in.” I tried to keep my face carefully blank at the stumbling language, trying to store the moment in mind so I could mock Jorge later for being worse at something than me. The old geezer would hate it.

“I see no escort - are you fighters?” Jorge only hesitated for a moment while trying to pass the words before nodding.

She asked another question, “Where are your weapons?” to which Jorge simply held up his storage ring and conjured an apple from within before storing it again, then pointed at all of us.

She simply nodded, and signalled her two companions to wait. She stepped closer, clipping her helmet to a little hook on her belt I’d not noticed till this point, and withdrew 4 lengths of thick leather cord.

She gestured towards us all as she spoke, underscoring her words with a demonstration. “I need to bind your weapons. Understood?”

Jorge looked a little lost at this and tried to ask for clarification. That was enough for me, and I stepped forwards to whisper in his ear what she had said. He looked surprised for a moment but then scrambled to agree, seeing the weariness of the two armed warriors spike after our conferring. He conjured a small war-axe and slipped it into a loop in his belt quickly before anyone could be spooked further.

The leader stepped forwards and expertly wrapped Jorge’s axe with the leather cord, fashioning a surprisingly durable-looking binding in only a few moments. She then approached my companions and did the same. By the time she reached me, Jorge had withdrawn and tossed over my spear, and I held it loosely, tip on the ground in what I hoped was a non-threatening gesture. I’d never really considered how simple confusion and a language barrier could make even simple situations like this one risky, but now that I was here, I was definitely moving slowly. Despite that, the woman didn’t look concerned, simply carrying out her checks with a casual professionalism.

Once satisfied, she beckoned us to follow, and we strode into the darkness once more. The larger entrance through which they’d originally emerged turned out to be nothing more than a short passageway leading to a guardroom filled with empty bunks and desks. Gear adorned the walls, and I spent time examining it while we waited for the woman to return.

She did so, dismissing the two other warriors that had been guarding us, but she was not alone. An elderly human followed behind and brightened immediately upon seeing us. I caught his eyes flick to Jorge’s neck, and Nathlan’s and Vera’s hands, and skim straight past me entirely, which left me puzzled.

The female warrior unclipped her helm from her belt and said something in Ashtani as she gestured to the new man. I didn’t bother to listen in too closely, and the man started running through a list of languages, pausing after each one for Jorge to comment. It only took a half-dozen until Jorge interrupted with joy and they began to speak back and forth in a rapid-fire exchange that was still too fast for me to follow, despite understanding their words. Something about storage devices, trade and debts.

After what felt like only a few heartbeats, the grey-haired man looked away from Jorge and towards the three of us, a beaming smile on his face; “Welcome to Colchet adventurers!”