The final notes of 'Parting at Yang Pass' faded into a lingering, poignant echo. Evan pressed his hands firmly against the strings, silencing the resonance. A profound sadness tinged his voice, "Farewell, friends. I truly must leave. Yet, I promise to return. This melody... is my goodbye."
A tall figure had materialized behind Evan unnoticed. Hearing his words, the figure's expression hardened imperceptibly. A strong hand came down on Evan's shoulder.
Evan, sensing the presence he knew so well, didn't startle. He simply lowered his head. "Zander... I have to go."
The figure moved. In a flash, the imposing presence stood before Evan. Though Evan was tall, this figure towered over him by another head. Wild, untamed purple hair, slightly disheveled, framed a face carved with the harsh lines of granite – broad shoulders radiating latent explosive power. For a fleeting moment, Evan felt the familiar, comforting heat emanating from Zander's hands.
"Evan..." Zander's voice was low, rough with unspoken emotion, "...I cannot go with you to Milan."
"What?" Evan gasped, shock and disbelief flooding his features. "Zander! Why? You promised..." His voice trailed off, the words catching in his throat.
Zander gripped Evan's shoulders firmly, his expression pained. "I'm sorry. I did promise to accompany you. But... something urgent demands my attention." He pulled the map to Milan from his tunic, pressing it into Evan's hands. "Take this. Follow the path marked. You'll reach the Milan Institute. If you get lost, ask directions. Once my business is finished... I will find you at the Institute. That is my promise to you."
A wave of desolation washed over Evan. Ten years. They had never been apart. Zander's sudden departure, delivered with such unyielding certainty, carved a hollow emptiness within him. He felt bereft, as if something vital had been torn away.
"Zander..." Evan's voice held a desperate edge, "You hold so many secrets... secrets you won't share. But if you need my help... tell me. Please! I am your brother!"
"Brother." The word ignited twin flames of intense heat in Zander's deep, violet eyes. He clapped Evan's shoulder firmly. "Yes. We are brothers. Evan, go to the Institute. I won't be long. I will find you there. That is my vow." His gaze sharpened. "Remember: trust no one easily on the road. Conceal your true strength. Never let outsiders know the full extent of your power. Only then can you truly protect yourself. Understand?" He pulled something from within his tunic, pressing it into Evan's hand. "Use this when you need to act unseen. And... after our encounter with those Polish heavy cavalry... leave this city swiftly to avoid trouble." Without another word, Zander turned and strode purposefully towards the direction the lion-man had vanished.
Evan stood rooted, watching until Zander's figure disappeared completely. The vibrant streets of Roll City suddenly felt cold, desolate, amplifying the loneliness and helplessness settling upon him. He was truly alone now.
Looking down at the object Zander had given him, he saw a mask crafted from an unknown, incredibly soft material. He carefully tucked it into his tunic. Zander, come back soon, he thought. Now... I must rely only on myself. First, buy a mount, then head straight for the Milan Institute to wait for Zander.
With that resolution, the sharp edge of his loss softened. Spotting a passerby, he inquired about purchasing a mount and was directed towards the slave market near the city's North Gate. Buoyed by purpose, he set off in that direction. Zander had explained the currency: gold coins were universal, one gold piece equaling one hundred silver. Silver was the common currency; a family might spend only ten or so silvers per month. A good Riding Lizard should cost no more than a few gold pieces.
On Aerion, slave markets existed in almost every human city, a necessary component of the rigid class system. They served as places to trade the lowest class: slaves. Over time, their scope expanded to include slaves from various races and low-level magical beasts. Generally, beasts sold here didn't exceed Tier 3.
Magical Beasts were classified from Tier 1 to 10. Tiers 1-3 were Low-Level Beasts, often docile or only mildly destructive. Tiers 4-6 were High-Level Beasts, possessing significant power. Beasts beyond Tier 6 were called Sentient Beasts, formidable and intelligent. Tier 10 Beasts were mythical 'Divine Beasts'.
The most powerful known beast species were the Behemoths of the Northern Wastes and the Dragons inhabiting the hidden Dragon Cities within the Eight Human Kingdoms. True Dragons and True Behemoths were exceedingly rare, historically never numbering in the thousands, yet each possessed immense power, the weakest starting at Tier 7. Dragons held an advantage Behemoths lacked: numerous kin. The inherently lustful nature of Dragons had spawned countless Dragon-kin over millennia. While True Dragons remained scarce, various Draconic breeds thrived. Some, tamed by humans, became Riding Drakes. Though weaker than True Dragons, their Draconic heritage granted them considerable power, starting at Tier 3. The strongest Riding Drakes rivaled their progenitors. These creatures formed the backbone of the human kingdoms' might, enabling them to contain the Beastmen within the harsh Northern Wastes. Humans, naturally, had no desire to invade that inhospitable land.
"Pity me! Mother died when I was three! Father abandoned me at ten! Kind lords and ladies! Spare a few gold coins for a bite to eat!"
Evan finally located the slave market entrance only to be confronted by a heart-wrenching sight: a young beggar sat just outside, wailing dramatically. The boy was small and painfully thin, clad in filthy, threadbare rags. Grime covered his face and body. A chipped bowl sat before him as he implored passing townsfolk.
Evan, encountering poverty for the first time, felt a surge of compassion. He looks my age, he thought, yet so frail. Losing his mother at three, abandoned by his father at ten... what suffering! Without hesitation, he walked towards the beggar and stopped.