The Prologue to Adventure
Chapter 1: The Order
Order from the Adventurer’s Guild: The Atlas of Old
A prophecy from the South has reached our ears; if it is true, the Atlas of Old must be found! It is an ancient scroll imbued with a magical blessing. Legends liken it to a living map of the continent, making it capable of sniffing out dark forces wherever they gather.
The problem is nobody knows of its last whereabouts, or even what it looks like… still, brave Adventurer, a journey must be made for its swift recovery! Upon discovery, bring it directly to the Guild.
Godspeed…
– Sir Allard, Embers of the Phoenix
Chapter 2: A Letter from Burt
Dear Adventurer,
I hope this letter pigeon finds you safely. The Tracker spell cost an arm and a leg, I tells you!
I heard your name being spoken of among certain crowds... it sounds like you’ve acquired a fair bit of renown for your courage and past accomplishments! I assume you’ve also received the Order from the Adventurer’s Guild? Ah, but let me tell you: you’re wasting your time looking for that Atlas. That is, without the proper guidance…if you catch my drift. What if I told you I know where to start looking for it? Well, at least I have a hunch, but I assure you: my hunches are spot on. Sounds tempting, right? But, of course, nothing is free…
The name’s Burt. I'm a past member of the Adventurer's Guild, but not currently in great favor with the Guild, or the Guildmaster, or anyone for that matter. But don’t fret! Finding the Atlas could land me back in good tides with the lot of them. After all, rewards and reputation generally go to the fastest person or group to complete an assigned quest. So, what do you say, how about we team up on this one?
Ok, look, there's a koi out west by the name of Mr. Sprinkles. Makes sense, because he's quite literally covered in sprinkles. Kind of a lazy name, but impossible to miss. He owns a bakery in the kingdom of Wisteria, and you know Wisterians don't take kindly to wandering whiskers. A pretentious bunch, I'd say, but we should be safe getting there. Now see, everyone in the west knows of Mr. Sprinkles' bakery, The Rising Café, but few whiskers know Mr. Sprinkles is more than a simple baker; he's a collector. If a rare magical artifact has ever been adrift, chances are Sprinkles came in contact with it at some point.
Here's the catch. I know where to find him, but, you see, I may or may not have, uh, "acquired" some of his possessions without his knowledge. A rare set of cards, priceless in my opinion. I heard it was collecting dust in Sprinkles’ back room, so one day I sort of snuck in and grabbed it. I glimpsed a heavy-looking fancy book on my way out, but at the time I had no idea what it was! There’s no way I can go and face Sprinkles by myself, and I’m pretty sure he suspects me already.
So, I get you to Wisteria, and you figure out a way to get us an audience with Mr. Sprinkles at his café. We split the reward 50/50. Easy enough. Deal?
Look, consider this a demonstration of my trust in you. Take these codes to The Underground Pond. They'll get you access to The Tables, a place where some of the earliest and most talented players hang out to play cards. Even some of the original founders of the legendary game are known to pop in from time to time. Give it a shot; they'll want to know what brought you there, so tell them Burt sent you! I’ll meet you there.
Go on, add some meaning to your life, Adventurer, then maybe we can begin our journey…
Lots of love,
Burt
Chapter 3: A Thief’s Request
Nearly a week has passed since your journey to The Tables in Windrose City. You’ve had so much fun learning and playing the card game that you've forgotten that Burt is supposed to meet you here, though it seems the meeting has also slipped Burt’s mind. As you play your final hand, you drag yourself away and tell yourself that you must find Burt.
After combing the town, you stumble across a whisker clad in a green salamander robe haggling with a local fruit seller. The merchant is shaking his head with a most disagreeable expression and impatiently waves the whisker away. The cloaked whisker waits until the merchant turns his back, then swipes a couple of apples beneath his cloak and hurries away with his hood over his eyes. You sigh.
This kleptomaniac whisker could only be the infamous Burt. You are about to call to him, but he blindly bowls you over, and you both tumble to the ground.
“Unhand me, Officer, I swear those apples leapt into my cloak on their own accord!” Burt wails.
The merchant has come out of his shop to see what the ruckus is about, so you grab Burt by the arm and steer him away into a back alley. You wave Burt's letter in front of his face, and his expression changes to that of excitement.
“Ahh, Adventurer! I thought I’d forever lost you to The Tables. You know, I came looking for you, but I realized I didn’t know what you looked like so I left in search of food.”
You begin to worry if this whisker can be trusted at all. Burt tosses you one of his plundered apples.
“Relax! You had a great time there playing cards, right? Heh, so now you understand why I couldn’t resist borrowing those cards from Mr. Sprinkles. Whiskers go crazy over rare cards and whatnot.”
You purse your lips. You don’t particularly agree with Burt’s roguish ways.
“Oh, you must think I’m no good. Well, look, I mean to set my affairs in order, truly! We’ll go see Sprinkles, and I’ll give him back the cards while you take—I mean, ask for the whereabouts of the Atlas—then we’ll return it to the Guild, and I’ll make my proper apologies to Allard. Then we get our rightful reward, and we all win, see?”
You shake your head. It seems much too ideal for the plan to succeed, but you are taken in by the earnestness of this impish whisker. You hold up a warning finger to Burt before holding out a hand.
“Yes, yes, I’ll work on mending my ways! And your possessions will be perfectly safe around me,” Burt says heartily, pumping your hand up and down. “Let us depart for The Rising Café!”
Chapter 4: A Walk to the West
The journey through the West goes smoother than you expected. Burt explains that Wisteria keeps a tight eye on its land, and there are frequent patrols. With wealth comes the privilege of safety and security, so the best mercenaries and guards are stationed to quell the first signs of trouble.
"You know, the Western Kingdoms are steeped in tradition and formality, ruled justly for centuries by the royal lineage of the Wisteria family, descendants of the Barleys,” Burt babbles happily next to you.
“Unfortunately, after the passing of the Old King Lozendar, the kingdom split into seven smaller kingdoms and their respective castles, overseen by the various barons and baronesses of the noble houses and the daughter and three sons of Lozendar, who rarely see eye to eye.”
You walk past a couple of noble-looking whiskers strolling down the well-kept path. They take a look at you and Burt’s Windrosian cloaks, sniff, and stride past without another glance.
"The whiskers of the West are known to be well-educated and cultured and often think themselves superior to the whiskers from other regions. Not me, though. I'm the best there is. Well, I wouldn't say all Westerners are like that. Mr. Sprinkles from The Rising Café is a shining example of real kindness and compassion. So long as you don't get on his bad side. Like I, uh, kind of did. I really messed that up, didn’t I?”
You nod gravely.
"Look! Wow, time really flies. You see that up ahead? That's Castle Wisteria! We made it all the way here. Let's go find us a donut-looking whisker."
Chapter 5: The Rising Café
Castle Wisteria is a grand old castle, easily the biggest structure in the entire kingdom. It looms over the surrounding township like an indomitable overseer. It is your first time here, so you try to focus on not getting lost, but Burt keeps rambling about cards. His passion for the game is unending, so you have given up on silencing him and try to tune him out while you peer down the bustling streets.
“Did you know there are over a million strategies to win?” Burt continues his monologue. “Well, probably not a million, but there sure are a lot. My dream is to one day win a tournament and become a legend at The Tables. The prizes for winning a tournament are said to be in a league of their own. Until then, I'll use the money from the Adventurer’s Guild to travel the continent and learn every card strategy from every city. Then, I'll truly be unbeatable!”
You and Burt reach a greener part of the township, where the city blocks have made way to buildings separated by trees and shrubbery.
“You’re just starting out,” Burt goes on, “but who knows? Maybe one day you'll make a fine player yourself and we can compete against each other head-on! Although, I’m sure we know who'd win.”
He smiles slyly at you, but by now you are completely ignoring him. You turn a corner and grab Burt’s wrist. The colorful building in front of you is unmistakably The Rising Café. A thought suddenly occurs to you. How are you supposed to make an introduction to Mr. Sprinkles? You had thought about it here and there while traveling, but the immediacy of your task is setting in. You don't know much of anything about Mr. Sprinkles. Come to think of it, you don't know much about Burt either, except that he is crazy about cards, and every time you tried to change the subject, one way or another the conversation would get back to cards. Burt has finally quit talking and is gawping at the café, apparently grappling with his own problems. You crack your knuckles and stride forward as Burt stutters and stumbles behind you.
The Rising Café is a whimsical pastry dream. You feel as if you have walked into the inside of a cake. Other whiskers are enjoying their morning temptations, when you see the whisker behind the counter. He is pink, rounder than other whiskers, and covered from head to fin in sprinkles.
Burt follows, slightly hiding behind your back. You make it just past the threshold when Mr. Sprinkles spots Burt. He wastes no time with introductions.
“You two. In my office. Right now,” he says as he takes off his apron and sets it on the counter.
You gulp and follow him into the back room, dragging along an unwilling Burt. The office is even more whimsical than the front of the café. Mr. Sprinkles sits at his pastry desk in his cupcake chair. He then motions for you and Burt to take a seat on the croissant couch. He glares at the two of you in silence for a minute. Under the stern look, whatever air of confidence and self-righteousness Burt had when you first met him is being pressed out of him. You merely hold your breath, praying for the best.
“I’m assuming you’ve come to confess? And who is your accomplice?” Mr. Sprinkles demands.
“I was only borrowing the cards for a couple games, Sprinkles; I promise I was going to give them back,” Burt bursts out. “Oh, and this is…”
You leap up and bow as low as you can.
“Adventurer, is it? And you say you’re after a certain artifact? Well, if you want something from someone, the art of conversation is not one to ignore.” Mr. Sprinkles rises from his cupcake chair. “Tell me, Adventurer, why should I help you? After all, you’re associating with a thief.”
“I just borro-” Burt tries to say before Mr. Sprinkles puts his hand up.
You swallow. Asking for the Atlas outright might not be a good strategy. You look around the room. It is immaculate. You can tell that every detail, down to the furniture, was carefully designed and planned by the colorful baker.
“Adventurer,” Burt whispers. “Now’s not the time to be admiring the room.”
But Mr. Sprinkles looks thoughtfully at you.
“You like my office, do you?” he says.
You nod feverishly. You walk around the room, pointing out every marvelous decoration and piling on your compliments. You end up holding Mr. Sprinkles’ hands, saying what wonderful pastries the baker must create with those elegant fingers.
“Err, indeed, Adventurer,” Sprinkles says. He is taken aback but cannot hide his delight. “I take the utmost pride in my work. Say, do you want to try my latest inventions?”
Burt opens his mouth, but fearing he may ruin your efforts, you step on his toes while nodding vigorously at Sprinkles.
“Very well, wait here,” Sprinkles says, turning to leave the office.
“What are you playing at?” Burt says, once Sprinkles disappears, “This is far from what we’re trying to accomplish here.”
You shake your head, telling Burt to trust you. Sprinkles comes bounding back with a loaded tray in his hands.
“I whipped these up this morning,” he says, shuffling his feet. “It has been decades since I’ve made anything new. Not since the passing of... anyway, I haven't had the courage to test them on anyone yet. Perhaps you could…?”
You nod and reach for the nearest pastry. You take a bite. It is like a slice of heaven in your mouth.
“Oh wow, Sprinkles,” Burt says, enthusiastically stuffing his face. “These are really top-notch.”
The tray is empty in no time, and Sprinkles triumphantly sets it down on his desk.
“Well, that’s that. I had no idea you were a fine connoisseur, dear Adventurer. I shall make fresh batches and put them in the bakery tomorrow.”
“I helped eat them too,” Burt says, putting up his hand, but Sprinkles turns and pulls out a pen and notebook, humming as he writes some notes. You clear your throat deliberately.
“Hm, what’s that? Oh, yes, my apologies; as I said, my work is my priority. But for testing my inventions so graciously, I must give something in return. What is the artifact in question?”
You feel a rush of excitement.
“The Atlas of Old?” Mr. Sprinkles says as he strokes his chin. “Why yes, that is part of my collection. I hadn’t thought about it in so long. Why ever do you want it?”
“Sir Allard of the Adventurer’s Guild has issued an order for its retrieval,” Burt says with a salute.
"Sir Allard requests it? Well, that’s different! He is a legend amongst our generation. If it is he who seeks it, it must be for an important duty. Now, where did I put the old thing?”
He walks into a small storage room and reappears with an old tome. It appears to be covered in dust and cobwebs, aside from a clean circle in the center.
"I had stuck it under the corner of one of my donut racks so it would stop rocking back and forth,” Mr. Sprinkles says with embarrassment. “I like you, Adventurer, so it’s yours if you want it. Just have that little koi return what’s mine."
With a flourishing apology, Burt hands over the cards, and Sprinkles hands you the dusty book.
“Now, it’s only rumored that this is the Atlas,” Mr. Sprinkles says. “Open it. It’s all blank. Strange, but fear not; I do detect magic from it. If I were to take a chance, I’d bet on this old thing.”
You stammer your thanks to the baker.
“Well, it’s getting late. We must be leaving soon,” Burt says as he stands and heads for the door.
“Ah, ah, ah, Burt. Pockets, please,” Mr. Sprinkles says before Burt gets to the door. Burt turns his pockets out to reveal a small jeweled goblet and a clinking sack.
“You’ve really got to curb this addiction, Burt. Give me those,” Sprinkles demands. “And toss in your card winnings from the week. Then we’ll call it even.”
Burt lets out a wail of despair and gives the stolen items, plus a few meager coins from his own wallet, to Sprinkles.
“Consider this a hard lesson, Burt,” Mr. Sprinkles says dryly. “And you, Adventurer, good luck with that. If you ever figure out how it works, come by and show me.”
You wave a grateful hand to the baker as you leave the café with a despondent Burt. The moment you walk out the door, you open the book excitedly. Sprinkles wasn’t lying; the book's pages are all blank, reflecting nothing but the light from the sun.
“Huh. Would you look at that?” Burt says, looking over your shoulder. “We might have come all the way for nothing. At least Sprinkles only took the coins from my spare wallet.”
Chapter 6: A Hint of Darkness
Hours after Adventurer and Burt have left the café…
“Apple fritter, please,” the small whisker says.
“I’m sorry, we’re fresh out of apple fritters,” Mr. Sprinkles replies, exaggerating his frown to match the young whisker.
“Do you have any bear claws?” the little whisker asks.
“Why, certainly!” Mr. Sprinkles says, perking up.
He reaches under the counter and pulls out a bear claw the size of the young whisker's head. Her eyes light up with joy. She outstretches her arms to grab it before Mr. Sprinkles is even ready to hand it over.
“This one’s on me,” Mr. Sprinkles says with a smile as he passes her the pastry. The little whisker runs back to the table with the rest of her family.
The following customer walks up to the counter, wearing a black cloak tied at the chin with a maroon button. The other patrons may not have noticed, but Mr. Sprinkles knows this is a sign of a paid assassin.
“What can I get for you today?” Mr. Sprinkles says casually.
“I think you know,” the assassin says, flashing his dagger beneath his black cloak.
Mr. Sprinkles tilts his head in the direction of his office. "Not here."
They both walk into the office at the back of the bakery. The assassin drags his dagger across the arm of the croissant couch.
Mr. Sprinkles looks at his clock. “Let’s hurry now. I don’t have all day.”
The assassin looks into Mr. Sprinkle's eyes while testing the sharpness of his dagger on his fingertip.
“Your intimidation tricks don’t work with me,” Mr. Sprinkles says while tapping his foot on the ground.
“I believe you know the whereabouts of a certain adventurer, and perhaps you know what that individual possesses,” the assassin says in a greasy voice.
“I see many customers, in and out, all day. I like to assume all of them are adventurers; life's more fun that way.”
“This adventurer was with a koi named Burt. Ring a bell? If I’m correct, which I am, Burt is also a rather infamous little thief.”
“You know Burt?" Sprinkles says. "Burt was the one who stole my cards! I don’t associate with thieves like him or assassins like you. I suggest you leave immediately.” Mr. Sprinkles points to the door.
The assassin flips his dagger multiple times. “I understand, Sprinkles. I’ll be on my way then.” He opens the door to the office and looks back insidiously. “It’d be a shame if you were lying to me,” he says as he strolls out of the restaurant.
Mr. Sprinkles goes to his Closet of Extraordinary Artifacts™ and takes an old piece of parchment coupled with ink and quill. He hastily writes:
“They are searching for you; be wary."
As soon as the message is written, it disappears.
Chapter 7: The Atlas of Old
“I think Mr. Sprinkles gave you a fake,” Burt says. You shake your head, but at the same time, you wonder what could lie behind the mystery of the empty book. You tap your forehead as you look down at the pages.
“It’s not hard to use a map. This,” Burt says, pointing at the book. “This is not a map.”
You both make your way to the Grand Library of Wisteria in the heart of the city. You begin your search for anything that involves maps and atlases. Then you move on to old scrolls involving history, most of which are about the Western Kingdoms. There is no mention of the Atlas of Old anywhere.
“Momma! Momma! Look! It’s a story about sea creatures!” A young minnow comes running out of the mythical section towards his mother.
“Shh, we must keep our voices down in the library, honey,” the mother replies, picking up her son.
A sudden idea pops into your head. You grab Burt and head towards the Mythical Fiction section of the library. If the legend of the Atlas of Old became a myth passed down by generations, wouldn’t you find it here? You begin scanning the books for hints.
“I don’t think we’ll find it here,” Burt says, looking around. “It’s mostly children's books.”
You spring up with a book in your hand.
“'The Great Pond: From Here to There, A Bit of Everywhere'. Wonderful,” Burt says.
You roll your eyes and take the book to a reading table.
“It doesn’t look like anything special,” Burt says. “Come on, let’s try our luck playing some cards.”
You shake your head and point at the author's name, Dronato Krake.
“Who’s that?” Burt asks.
You open the front cover to the biography of the author.
“Dronato Krake, the first and only whisker to sail around the entire Great Pond,” Burt reads. “Well, that was centuries ago, right? So, he’s dead. Now what?”
You rack your brains to when you were back in magical school. There was something the teacher had said over and over. You tell this to Burt.
“Oh yeah, I remember,” he replies. “Something this Krake guy said about being great even if you were small? Oh right, ‘Greatness from small beginnings.’”
The Atlas of Old begins to tremble in your pack. You jump in surprise and pull out the old tome.
“We’re onto something here!” Burt exclaims. You look at him through narrowed eyes, annoyed at his abrupt change in disposition.
You open the book and look at the pages. They’re still blank, but the book has a slight pulse.
Burt leans in closer and says again,
“Greatness from small beginnings.”
The Atlas of Old begins to flip through its pages as if there is a strong gust in the library. You look at Burt, nervous about what could happen. The book settles down, and you remember there was more to what Dronato Krake said. You grab "The Great Pond: From Here to There, A Bit of Everywhere" and flip through it as quickly as possible but can’t find any more to the phrase. Frustrated, you close the book, leaving it facedown, when you notice the words on the back cover: Sic Parvis Magna, Omnia Mors Aequat. Greatness from small beginnings, death makes all things equal.
Trembling, you show Burt. He nods and whispers,
“Sic parvis magna, omnia mors aequat...”