The librarian took the sketch from Lassim and studied it intently, his brow furrowing as his sharp eyes darted over the lines. He tilted his head slightly as if viewing the image from another angle might reveal something new.
The crude drawing captured the broad contours of the wolf-like creature, its elongated snout, and the jagged spikes that jutted from its back, shoulders, and limbs. "Hmm… Unusual," he murmured to himself, as he turned the sketch in his hands.
Finally, he handed it back to Lassim with a slight shake of his head. "Looks wolf-like, but these spikes…" He gestured vaguely at the jagged features on the drawing. "I can’t say I’ve seen anything like it around the city. It’s certainly not a creature one would find in the nearby forests or hills."
His hand motioned toward the nearest shelves. "You’re welcome to search the bestiary section. We keep a modest collection of tomes on Spirit Beasts there, including some more obscure entries. But I won’t promise you’ll find what you’re looking for. It’s 5 low-grade ESS per hour, and you’ll pay when you leave. If you wish to borrow any books, bring them to my desk and I can tell you the process and rental fees for checking books out."
"Thank you," Lassim said, tucking the sketch back into his magic pouch and giving the librarian a polite nod. The man turned away, settling and leaning back comfortably in his seat at the desk again and resuming his quiet reading.
Lassim moved toward the indicated section, scanning the neatly arranged shelves. The librarian’s organization was quite impeccable, the rows of books divided by region, elemental affinity, and rarity for each of the beasts.
Lassim selected a few promising titles: The Wolves of the Western Peaks, Rare Spirit Beasts of the Central Plains, and The Elemental Manifestations of the Southern Continent. Settling at a table near a small, flickering fire-infused mana lamp, he opened the first book and began to read.
The first entry he came across detailed a Spirit Beast known as the Iron Fang Wolf. The illustration showed a creature covered in a sleek, silver coat that gleamed like polished metal. Its body was lithe and streamlined, and its defining feature was a set of jagged iron fangs that it used to tear through prey and even armor.
"Interesting," Lassim muttered to himself, his finger tracing the image. The metallic sheen of the wolf reminded him of the construct’s frame, but there were no spikes, and its body lacked the bulk and raw power of the creature he sought to identify.
Also, his mind considered the very real possibility that just because the construct was metallic, didn’t mean the creature’s actual body would be of the metal element. It could be literally anything so he reminded himself to not overly fixate on metal elemental wolves during his search.
He moved on to the next book. This one described an Earthquake Howler, a large, stone-plated wolf that lived in mountainous cliff regions of the South-Eastern part of the continent. Its massive paws were covered in rocky protrusions, and its howl could send shockwaves rippling through the ground. The spikes on its limbs caught Lassim’s attention briefly, but these were uneven and looked more like jagged stones than the smooth spines of the construct’s limbs, back and mane.
He closed the book with a quiet sigh and reached for another. The third tome, The Elemental Manifestations of the Southern Continent, offered some of the most peculiar entries yet.
He flipped past descriptions of snowbound creatures and glacial serpents before stopping at a detailed illustration of a Frostmane Hunter. The wolf was drawn in an incredibly detailed manner, depicted in mid-pounce, its body sleek and covered in shimmering, frost-coated fur that glowed faintly blue. A jagged ridge of ice-like spikes ran along its back, forming a protective crest. It was closer to the construct’s form than anything he’d seen so far, but there were several features that made it more icy in appearance and distinctly more solemn looking that didn’t align with the conal spikes and predatory aggressive snout of the construct.
Hours passed as Lassim continued his search. Book after book revealed fascinating but ultimately unhelpful entries.
He read about wolves that thrived in deserts, their fur reflecting sunlight to ward off heat or even absorb it to then blind and scorch their prey. There were also night elemental wolves that hunted in packs so synchronized they seemed to share a single consciousness through the use of their connected shadows that acted like puppet strings.
The variety of forms and abilities of wolf beasts was staggering, but none matched the combination of features he sought. The spikes remained the greatest obstacle—while many beasts bore protrusions for defense, they were almost always organic, not conal or not covering most of the body like the ones on the construct.
Finally, Lassim closed the last book in his stack and leaned back in his chair. Though his search had yielded no answers, his expression remained calm. He returned the books to their proper places on the shelves, thanked the librarian for his assistance, paying 20 low-grade ESS for the four hours he spent and then stepped outside.
The sun was much lower now, casting long shadows across Bronvald’s streets. The town was just as lively as before, the sounds of bartering merchants and a group of laughing children with book bags on their shoulders filled the air.
Lassim’s eyes scanned the bustling square as he considered his next step.
Eno’s words came to mind, the mention of an older wind elemental beast tamer who had once sold eggs during festivals. If the man was a local like Eno suggested was a possibility, someone in town might know where to find him.
Lassim began his search in the market in front of him, approaching stall owners and shopkeepers with polite inquiries.
The first merchant he spoke to, a wiry man with calloused hands selling polished gemstones, shook his head after hearing the description. "An old beast tamer who sells eggs?" he repeated, frowning in thought. "No, doesn’t ring a bell. But you might try asking around the tannery traders’ stalls and skinners. They’re just two streets over. Follow the smell as you’ll surely recognize the smell of their hides once you’re close enough."
Following the man’s suggestion, Lassim’s nostrils were hit with an intensity that he hadn’t expected as the smell of rotten hides and salt for the curing punched him in the face. There was also the smell of manure and feed as he approached the closest few traders selling livestock and one that rented Spirit Beast mounts for wagons.
The second and third people he asked gave similar responses to the gemstone seller, either shaking their heads or apologizing for not knowing anyone who matched the description. Lassim went all the way down the street, repeatedly asking each stall and shop owner he came across.
He’d lost count of how many he’d asked over the course of the next half hour or so, but eventually a cheerful woman selling woven blankets near the town’s edge, finally gave him a useful lead.
Her eyes lit up as Lassim described the man, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Ah, you must mean Old Edrian!" she exclaimed. "He lives just outside the western gate with his wife. Has a big patch of land where he raises all kinds of creatures. Probably twice a month he comes into town and sells the newly hatched beasts and highest quality eggs to the mount renters for their next generation of work beasts. You’ll know you’re in the right place by the sound of the wind chimes—he’s got dozens of them hanging on his fence, and they sing even when there’s no wind."
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Thanking the woman by purchasing a beautifully woven black and violet blanket that reminded Lassim of Lustria for some odd reason, Lassim stored it away to give as a gift before making his way toward the western edge of town.
The noise of the market faded behind him as the streets grew quieter, the stone buildings giving way to scattered cottages and fields. As he approached the outskirts, he began to hear the faint, melodic tinkling of wind chimes. The sound grew clearer with each step, blending into a soft, harmonious melody that seemed to drift through the air like a gentle breeze.
Lassim stopped at the gate, his eyes drawn to the property beyond. It was expansive, with rolling fields of tall grass and a few scattered trees. Near the center of the land, a trio of massive eagle-like creatures sat in a grassy clearing next to each other on a fallen over tree.
Their feathers were snow white and shimmered with iridescent hues, catching the light as they each shifted and swayed slightly. Each was probably large enough to carry at least three riders on their backs. Yet, here they sat calmly, their sharp eyes half-closed as they listened to a man playing a lute-like instrument nearby.
The old man sat on a wooden stool, his back to the gate, the music flowing effortlessly from his fingers. Lassim found himself closing his eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over him. The melody was soothing, evoking images of open meadows and cool, refreshing breezes.
For a brief instant, he could almost feel the tall grass brushing against his legs and the gentle wind caressing his face.
When the music came to an end with a soft, lingering note, Lassim opened his eyes to find the old man turning to look at him. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp and alert, and a faint smile played on his lips. "You’ve been standing there a while," the man said, his voice carrying a calm, melodic cadence. "What brings you to my little corner of the world?"
Lassim stepped forward, offering a polite bow. "My name is Lassim," he said. "I was told by a friend that you might be able to help me with something."
Edrian set the lute down beside him and stood, brushing off his trousers. "Help, is it? Well, that depends on what you’re looking for. Do you need a beast egg or something? I’ve got a couple ready for my next trip to the market, but they’re all firemaw lizards. Quite good companions for the armorsmiths, but you don’t give off the same stench as those hardy fellows. Haha!"
Reaching into his bag, Lassim smiled as he retrieved the sketch and handed it to the old man. "I’m trying to identify this creature," he said. "I came across it during my travels and was hoping someone with your knowledge might recognize it."
Edrian took the sketch, studying it intently. His brow furrowed as he traced the lines with a finger, lingering on the conal spikes. "Hmm… Strange," he murmured. "Wolf-like, yes, but these spikes… I’ve never seen anything quite like this on a wolf."
He glanced up at Lassim, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Where exactly did you see this beast?"
Lassim hesitated for only a moment before giving a vague answer. "In a misty place," he said carefully. "I only caught a glimpse of it, but the image stuck with me and my curiosity has just gotten the best of me. I’m quite enthusiastic about figuring out what it was."
Edrian’s gaze lingered on Lassim for a few moments longer with some suspicion before he nodded. "A misty place, eh? Sounds like the sort of environment where odd creatures might lurk."
He handed the sketch back to Lassim with a glint in his eye. "It’s not a local beast, that much I can tell you. But let’s see if my records can shed any light on it."
Edrian gestured for Lassim to follow, leading him toward the modest stone house near the center of the property. The wind chimes continued their soft, melodic song as Lassim stepped through the gate, closing it gently behind him. The scent of grass and clean air gave way to something sharper as they neared the house—the distinct aroma of raw meat mingled with herbs.
Inside, the source of the smell became clear. A woman stood at a sturdy wooden table, her movements deft as she chopped raw meat and sorted it into bowls alongside what looked like offal and bone fragments.
Her silver-streaked but vibrantly green hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and her kind eyes flicked toward Lassim briefly before returning to her work. Her hands moved with practiced precision, each cut and motion deliberate as she prepared meals for the creatures outside.
"Oh my, a visitor? Should I prepare something, Dear?" she asked with an upward inflection.
"Just a traveler with a question," Edrian replied casually, waving a hand as if to dispel any concern. "Don’t mind us. We’ll be in the sitting room."
Lassim nodded politely to the woman. "Good afternoon, Ma’am," he said.
She gave him a small smile in return, though her focus remained on her work. "Afternoon," she replied briefly, her voice like a warm hug.
Edrian led Lassim into a cozy looking sitting room, the walls lined with shelves packed with books of varying sizes and colors. A large window let in natural light, illuminating a space that felt lived-in and comfortable with a fireplace on one section of the wall.
A pair of well-worn chairs sat near a small table, which Edrian gestured toward as he began scanning the shelves.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, his tone still calm and even. "I’ll see what I can find."
Lassim remained standing, his sharp eyes following Edrian’s movements as the old man ran his fingers over the spines of the books, muttering quietly to himself.
After a moment, Edrian pulled down two hefty volumes and carried them over to the square shaped center table that was between the chairs. He set them down with a quiet thud, then opened the first one, flipping through its pages with practiced ease.