I find myself on the beach very close to the main port of the white city of Stormhammer. I did not arrive at the port—I do not come with ship users. I do not depend on something as crude as steam. I am perhaps the only free sorcerer in these times.
It was not always this way. I come fleeing from people who educated and prepared me for their convenience and vengeance. In these lands, I seek an artifact they created and left abandoned when they lost their power. Only it will bring me peace.
Although I am a kilometer away, I can clearly see the stone walls of the sorcerer's tower. He is a Whitecap, which means his spells and artifacts have healing and protective purposes. The city from outside looks radiant and mystical beneath that iridescent dome that provides fresh shade to its inhabitants.
I take the secondary roads with the purpose of reaching the forest's edge as quickly as possible, near the exclusion barrier. As I leave the city behind, I cannot help but be impressed by the number of black smoke columns rising from all the factories, smithies, and armories in the city. The trains never stop arriving and departing. Stormhammer is one of the largest cities of the new era—populous, industrialized, magical, and powerful... The largest since my masters left this continent.
My clothes can pass me off as one of the many adventurers seeking treasure. The design is based on one we stole from one of the few mercenaries who came to the isle seeking fortune. The elven archmages crafted it from dwarven war elephant hides brought from the old world (which I now tread). It will easily resist arrows and even non-enchanted harpoons and swords. On my back, hanging from a chain, is one of the last sword-staves, which gives the impression of being a miniature claymore. The shirt is white linen, contrasting with the black of my cloak and armor. The boots are dragon hide. The scrolls with all the spells I have stolen are hidden within the cloak; only I can find its pockets.
Even with the appearance, body, and abilities of an adventurer, I cannot go to the missions and rewards office. Most must pass through there if they want to enter the exclusion zone facing the Dark Forest. It is the only moderately safe access zone, but it lies within the mage's limits. His field would quickly meet mine. I do not want a Whitecap to know I am here. His apprentices would alert the population. Everyone wants a mage in their towns. Fortunately, one of the first things I learned was to contract my magical field, so I do not waste mana as I advance. But it is not the only reason I avoid this city. Behind me, activated by the limits of my magical zone, a funeral coffin accompanies me. Inside travels what was my love. It accompanies me in the search for what can end her suffering.
The overlook facing the rest of the continent makes it look very daunting. I must descend a couple hundred meters before reaching the exclusion zones. The armed forces of the village patrol that path frequently, thus preventing incursions that the more powerful creatures occasionally manage. I travel by the general road, at least until I reach the outskirts—about fifty to a hundred meters below the city. The roads are passable despite always sloping downward. There are no white stone avenues, but there are a couple of paved roads to prevent slipping and ensure passage.
As I descend the path, I cannot help but feel some apprehension. The box that accompanies me is protected from external attacks and those originating from within. Yet some of the country's inhabitants might see my beloved. Some originally magical races might see her. The mere idea that someone might scream in horror at her image—when she was so beautiful—makes me feel greater urgency to find that article hidden by my ancient masters, lost in the continent's center. I will find it, that is certain, even if I have to go through all the warriors and demons of hell!