Ashfall Bluffs hummed, a low thrum of industry and conversation. Kaelen found a stool at the back of The Soot Kettle, a tavern smelling of stale ale and burnt oil. He ordered a cup of weak broth, its steam rising in thin wisps, and watched the crowd. Faces here were harder, etched by wind and work, a stark contrast to the verdant quiet of his journey. “Anything else, quiet one?” Elara, the tavern keeper, set the steaming mug down. Her arms were strong, dusted with flour, her gaze sharp. Kaelen shook his head slightly. “Just… trying to find my bearings. Heard there might be work for a strong back.” Elara wiped down the counter. “Work’s always here, if you don’t mind getting your hands dirty. Bounties, mostly. Arcane creatures.” She leaned closer, voice dropping. “If you’re looking to sign on for a hunt, you’ll want the Barony’s Guildhall. Head for the clock tower, can’t miss it. Big stone building, dead center.” Kaelen raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Guildhall? What’s that?” Elara burst into a throaty laugh, a sound like gravel shifting. “You truly are fresh from the ash-country, aren’t you? Bless your soul. It’s where the Barony keeps its records, where the Watch Captains dole out tasks. All official-like.” She chuckled again, drying a mug with a practiced snap. Darkness had already bled into the sky beyond the grimy windowpanes. Going now seemed futile. Kaelen decided he’d visit the Guildhall in the morning. “So, what brings you to Ashfall, quiet one?” Elara asked, her eyes tracing the worn leather of his satchel. “Chasing an Ash-Beast, perhaps? One of those Arcane Creatures?” She paused, a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. “Are you an Ash-Hunter?” “An Ash-Hunter?” Kaelen repeated, his voice even. He felt the familiar prickle of caution. His secret was a heavy cloak. Elara leaned on the counter, polishing a pewter tankard. “You know, those folk who believe if they hunt Arcane Creatures, they can claim the beast’s raw magic. Become a… a conjurer themselves.” She scoffed softly, a dismissive sound. “Superstition, mostly. But some are truly desperate, risk their lives for a whisper of power.” Footsteps clunked loudly behind Kaelen. A hand, heavy and calloused, landed on his shoulder. Kaelen stiffened, his body tensing, elemental energies stirring beneath his skin. A soft rumble, like distant thunder. “Now, Elara, don’t go spreading nonsense.” The voice was rough, but held an underlying rumble of conviction. “It ain’t just superstition. It’s the truth. Seen it myself, with my own eyes.” Kaelen shifted, brushing the hand off his shoulder with a deliberate, slow movement. The man took a step back, a surprised grunt escaping him. He stood somewhere between thirty and forty, a knot of muscle beneath a worn leather vest. Unkempt ash-gray hair framed a face scored by wind and soot, but his eyes, despite the general dishevelment, held a surprising clarity, sharp and assessing. “Thane, you old dog!” Elara grinned, clapping a hand on the counter. “Thought the Ashfall waste had claimed you for good this time!” Thane laughed, a hearty, booming sound. “Not until I’m throwing fire like a true conjurer, lass!” Three burly men emerged from the shadows behind Thane. They carried crude, heavy weapons—a spiked polearm, a recurved bow, a hammer that looked like it could crush ore. Their muscles bulged under their grubby tunics. “Apologies, miss Elara,” one of them grunted, his voice a low rumble. “Our boss gets a bit… enthusiastic.” Kaelen fixed his gaze on Thane. “What you said,” he began, his voice low. “About becoming a conjurer by hunting Arcane Creatures. Could you elaborate?” Thane’s grin widened, revealing missing teeth. “So, you’re interested, eh, quiet one? Don’t blame you. Who wouldn’t want to feel the spark?” He pulled up a stool beside Kaelen, his men fanning out a short distance away. “Conjurers, they kill the beasts, absorb the raw energy. Grow stronger. Same principle for us folk. Crack one open, you get a taste of that power.” Thane leaned in, his voice conspiratorial. “Seen it happen. Not everyone, mind. Takes a certain… grit. But I’ve personally witnessed the change. That’s why we hunt. The four of us. To become conjurers.” “Already taken down three!” one of Thane’s men boomed, thumping his chest. Another chimed in, “Almost there now, hyungnim!” Kaelen felt a cold knot in his stomach. *Three?* The Arcane Creature he’d faced had been a whirlwind of jagged stone and raw fury, a creature that could rip a dozen armed men to shreds. His own encounter had nearly cost him everything. “Three creatures?” Kaelen asked, his voice carefully neutral. “Does that mean one of you has already… become a conjurer?” Laughter erupted from every corner of the tavern. Elara clutched her sides, tears streaming down her face. Thane chuckled, a wry grin on his face. “A conjurer here?” Elara gasped, wiping her eyes. “Bless your heart, country boy. In Ashfall, we got four, maybe five, and they’re all Barony Wardens, lord’s personal guard. If one of these louts had the Spark, you think they’d still be scraping by?” “Nah, not yet,” Thane admitted, shaking his head. “Bloody hard work. Nearly lost our hides more times than I care to count, just getting those three down.” *Four conjurers in a settlement this size?* Kaelen thought, a familiar weariness settling over him. *No wonder the Barony is so wary of raw magic.* His mentor had always lamented the scarcity of true mages in the world, the isolation of those who could wield raw power. Thane’s gaze dropped to Kaelen’s satchel, then to his hands. “Say, quiet one. You talk about hunting, but you’re not exactly equipped for it. No weapon?” Kaelen hesitated. He reached into a hidden pocket in his belt, pulling out a small, well-worn leather sling. It was little more than a pouch of tanned hide connected to two long thongs, suitable for flinging small stones. He had used it for hunting rabbits and squirrels in his youth, a simple tool. He expected mockery, a scoff at its pathetic appearance compared to their heavy steel. Instead, Thane’s men leaned in, their expressions surprisingly serious. “A stone-thrower!” the man with the polearm rumbled, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Well-used, too, by the looks of it,” added another, tracing the smoothed leather with a grubby finger. “What sort of stones do you favor, friend?” Thane asked, his gaze sharp. “Size of a walnut? A fist?” “Smaller,” Kaelen replied, his voice flat. “Egg-sized, perhaps. For small game.” “Egg-sized? Ah, you’re after the scurry-beasts, then,” Thane mused, nodding. “The ones that mutate from rabbits or foxes. Small things, but still got a vicious bite. Enough to crack their skulls, I reckon.” Kaelen felt a flash of relief. They assumed he hunted the weakest of the mutated creatures, the ones that, in their un-mutated form, a human could likely subdue bare-handed. His silence on the true nature of his abilities remained unbroken. He had no intention of revealing he hunted predators, beasts that could tear through armored men. No need to show his full hand. “Tell you what,” Thane said, his eyes bright. “We’re always looking for another marksman. How about you join our hunt? We’re going out at first light.” “Thank you for the offer,” Kaelen said, a polite but firm finality in his tone. “But my path is my own. I hunt alone.” Thane frowned, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. “That’s a shame, quiet one. You look like you could handle yourself. But if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” He slapped Kaelen lightly on the shoulder, a gesture this time devoid of aggression, before turning back to his crew. --- Kaelen retrieved a rough key from Elara and climbed the creaking stairs to the second floor. His room was sparse, a cot, a washbasin, and a single, flickering lantern. He lay on the cot, the straw mattress rustling beneath him, trying to still the restless energies within. Below, the voices of Thane and his men drifted up through the thin floorboards. *“Hyungnim, why were you trying to rope that skinny kid in? He barely looks like he could lift a shovel.”* *“Aye, one good swipe from a burrow-hog and he’d be crying for his mother.”* They mocked him, their voices thick with the false camaraderie they had shown moments ago. Kaelen had known enough people in his life to expect such two-faced behavior. A quiet sigh escaped him. *People are people*, he thought, closing his eyes, the words echoing a long-held truth. *“Tsk,”* Thane’s voice rumbled, surprisingly clear. *“Reminded me of my own foolish youth. Wandering out there with nothing but a glorified pebble-shooter. Ten lives wouldn’t be enough to survive that way.”* *“You’re too soft-hearted, Thane hyungnim,”* one of them grumbled. *“Who’s arguing?”* Kaelen listened to the conversation fade into murmurs. The world held both kindness and cruelty, often wrapped in the same package. --- Morning dawned, a pale, ash-tinged light filtering through the grimy window. Kaelen ate the thick, dark bread and thin, savory soup provided by the inn, the simple warmth a comfort. Then, he left for the Barony’s Guildhall. It stood at the heart of Ashfall Bluffs, a sturdy four-story structure of dark stone and exposed iron beams, buzzing with activity. Miners haggled over claims, merchants sought permits, and engineers argued over schematics for new steam-conduits. Kaelen navigated through a knot of citizens debating a land lease, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer density of human life and its accompanying mundane emanations. He found the Watch Captain in charge of bounties behind a desk piled high with parchments. The man, middle-aged and paunchy, squinted at Kaelen through thick spectacles. “What do you want?” The captain’s voice was dismissive, his eyes raking over Kaelen’s plain travel clothes as if he were a particularly uninteresting speck of dirt. “Seeking information on Arcane Creature bounties,” Kaelen stated, his voice even, his posture unyielding. He could have shown the man the raw flicker of elemental power that resided beneath his skin, reduced him to fawning subservience. But that would complicate everything. He didn’t want to be revered, or worse, enlisted. He sought anonymity, swift action, and then departure. His mission was his own, not the Barony’s. “No touching, just look and hand it back.” The captain slid a thick ledger across the desk. Its pages, stiff with age, listed the Arcane Creatures. Descriptions of their forms, their estimated sizes, typical behaviors, and reported locations. Beside each, the bounty. Weaker beasts, non-hostile, demanded live capture. The more aggressive ones, those that threatened human life, could be killed, their cores extracted or their corpses brought whole for verification. “Mind yourself,” the captain grunted, not looking up. “Weakened creatures, once culled, often look no different from a common beast. Scammers try to pass off regular carrion all the time. But hear this: if you kill one, bring it back. Even if it’s just a paw, a tooth. Barony Wardens have to disperse the residual magic, or else… well, let’s just say an abandoned Arcane Creature corpse can birth far worse things. Leaving one behind is a capital offense under Barony law. Keep that in your skull.” “Understood,” Kaelen affirmed, the warning settling deep within him. He had witnessed the horrifying aftermath of unchecked magical decay, the way raw power twisted and reanimated the dead. He scanned the list again. “Some of these creatures seem quite dangerous for an ordinary hunter. Don’t the Wardens hunt them?” The Watch Captain snorted, a derisive sound. “Wardens? Do you think they have time for common vermin? Their duty is to uphold order, patrol the clockwork lanes, defend against incursions from the Iron Waste. Hunting some overgrown badger is for vagrants like you, not the Barony’s finest.” Kaelen’s gaze fell to a particular entry, a cold frustration coiling in his gut. ***** **Cinderwing** A crow-like creature, its feathers partially fused with obsidian shards and smoldering ash. It can deflect arrows with its hardened plumage and attacks by diving from high altitudes, shedding burning cinders and sharp feather-shards. Known to stalk the outskirts, preying on strays and smaller children, leaving only scorched earth and bone fragments… ***** *If conjurers were truly humanity’s shield,* Kaelen thought, a bitter taste on his tongue, *shouldn’t they prioritize these threats?* But the scarcity of his kind, and their often-detached focus on greater, more esoteric threats, meant mundane horrors thrived. It was the way of the world. He simply moved through it. Kaelen returned the ledger and left the Guildhall. He walked towards the outskirts of Ashfall Bluffs, the dense cluster of buildings slowly thinning, giving way to scarred earth and skeletal, ash-choked trees. The familiar, desolate wilderness beckoned. *Time to work.* He confirmed his solitude, then closed his eyes, centering himself. He needed the Cinderwing. He needed its core, its primal essence. *Cinderwing, a creature of distorted flame, of earth fused with heat…* He reached out, extending his elemental perception, a subtle pressure behind his eyes. He sought the unique resonance of an Arcane Creature, specifically the twisted blend of earth and fire that would mark the Cinderwing. Hundreds of subtle energies instantly flooded his mind. The low thrum of steam pipes beneath the ground, the faint spark of clockwork mechanisms, the myriad life-signatures of insects, rodents, distant birds. The faint echo of hearth fires, the deeper rumble of the Barony’s forges. *Too much.* He recoiled, a sharp pang behind his temples. The sheer cacophony of life and industry, even at the edge of the settlement, was overwhelming. His senses, refined for the quiet wild, couldn’t filter through the static. He tried to narrow his search – *only creatures with a prominent fire resonance…* Still too many. Every small animal, every patch of dry grass, every ember blown from a distant chimney held some echo of fire. His specific search for a *mutated* fire signature within an animal was impossible amidst the urban haze. He needed a different approach. This raw, blunt method wouldn't work here. He would have to track it like any ordinary hunter. ---

The Ash and the Ledger