Roadside Ruins

Cole Bridges doesn't have much to brag about in life, except maybe for the freedom to ride the open road. It's a perk afforded to him because he's a courier. It is not an easy job; the roads are falling apart in some places, criminals often target couriers as easy pickings, and that's to say nothing of the possibility of a monster attack. It isn't a great career, he knows that. His girlfriend, Katrina, is always telling him that he needs to get a new job, a better job. 

Easier said than done, sweetheart.

The important thing is that it kept his rent paid and his stomach full. He even has a bit of savings set back. Beanfield isn't the most affluent town, so he always thought he was doing well for himself. He is a man in his early twenties and already is earning more than his mother or father did.

Katrina comes from wealth, though – her father, Aaron Dewford, owns the local expedition firm that rakes in money from government contracts. She doesn't work, and she never has. Her father would never let slip an opportunity to remind her that she needs to find a man who can keep her in comfortable living. It goes without saying that he does not approve of Cole. To Katrina's credit, she defends Cole to her father, insisting that he will find his way soon and that success is right around the corner.

Or at least that's the way it was until recently.

Aaron gave Katrina a generous allowance weekly for as long as she could remember. Shortly after she turned twenty, though, Aaron closed the purse strings. "You should not be coming to me for money. You are a grown woman and have a grown man at home to provide for you."

That is when the friction really began. Cole's job is plenty of income for himself and Katrina to live on, but not in the luxurious way she was used to when she could also rely on her allowance. Since then, Cole has been pulling extra shifts to make a little extra money. It means a lot of time on the road, and a lot of risk, but he does the work without any complaints. Not to her, anyway. When he's out on the road, he can air all of his frustrations as loudly as he likes, and he does so often.

-

On the road between Beanfield and Wakeville (cleverly named Beanfield-Wakeville Road), Cole rolls down the road on his bike. The light craft is technically property of the local Enchantworks, but it's a rent-to-own and he only has another twelve payments before it belongs to Cole outright. It's made of iron, mostly. There is a mageglass sphere that sits where one might expect a gas tank to be if gasoline were in this world. Instead, the sphere contains a glittering pearlescent blue substance – mana. His bike may not be the fastest model on the market, but it's been able to outrun every monster Cole has seen, so it's flawless in his eyes. 

He watches the trees as he goes through a thick forest, always alert for monsters and doubly so when there is good cover like this.

Cole catches a glint of something in the woods. It reflects the mid-morning sun like a piece of polished metal. Against his better judgement, he slows the bike and makes a U-turn. He putters slowly past where he thought he saw something, straining his eyes for any indication. Nothing. He circles his bike again, almost ready to dismiss it entirely. Then he sees it.

It's a branch office. Obviously camouflaged heavily, but not well enough to keep it hidden from Cole's intense scrutiny. He stops his bike in the middle of the road, mouth hanging open in shock. Suddenly his mind is racing and his palms are sweaty.

Finding a building like this is a rarity to put it mildly. These incredibly well-constructed structures are creations of the First Era and its people. It is unclear exactly how much time has passed since then, but Second Era calendar is chugging steadily through year 315. Anything inside those walls is sure to be ancient and valuable. He steps off his bike and pushes it off the road, propping it up with the kickstand in the scrubby grass beside the road.

He breaks into the dense underbrush of the woods, making his way slowly toward the branch office.

The building itself is smooth and hard, apparently constructed from something unknown or inaccessible to Second Era manufacturers. Cole can see that it was grey-white at some point, now coated with centuries of grime, dirt, and moss. He walks the perimeter of the structure, half looking for a way in, half looking for an excuse to walk away. He finds the entrance; it sits barely ajar, only the thinnest crack in the wall giving an indication that there is a threshold here.

This is nuts. I shouldn't be here. Cole thinks to himself. Who knows what could be in there?

Overwhelmed with curiosity, he wiggles his fingers into the wall's opening and gives a push. It takes a lot of effort to break the mechanism free, but once it begins moving, the door slides back into the wall. Cole stands in front of the open door for a long moment. He breathes a slow, heavy breath to settle his nerves. Cole steps forward warily.

Now inside the building, his eyes adjust to the darkness. He allows a long minute for his sight to fully return before he takes another step.

Coming into colorless view, Cole takes in the interior of the branch office for the first time. He sees a wide open room with tall ceilings, similar to a modern-day lobby. A large desk sits along one wall, built-in benches line the wall opposite. There is an enormous statue in the center of the lobby – apparently decorative, mimicking a massively oversized flower bouquet, but crafted from mage-glass.

Oh my word.

Cole steps around the statue, admiring it from all angles. Truly a breathtaking piece of art, it was unlike anything that he'd seen before. It seemed to be entirely smooth, devoid of any rigid facet or hard angle that would indicate a craftsman's hand. No toolmarks blemished this remarkable work. He stands totally engrossed in view of the statue. After a minute or two, he moves further inside, stopping at the desk on his way. There are some dusty parchments with a language he can't read and a handful of slim writing utensils that looked like a stick of charcoal. Off to one side, a leather-bound register that looks like it may have been used as a day planner or guestbook. Again, the language is unfamiliar so Cole can only guess.

He fishes in his backpack for an empty scroll tube. A courier's best friend, he thinks. Cole picks up all of the loose parchment and rolls them up together, sliding them into the tube. He collects the writing utensils and drops them into the tube as well. The ledger, however, is too heavy and bulky to bring along.

In the next room, there are desks in neat rows throughout. Four rows of four desks each, the tops of which are all empty. Cole's fingertips trace a line in the dust of one desk absentmindedly as his eyes scan the rest of the room. On one wall, he sees a painting that stops him in his tracks. It's a view of the Edgewater Mountains, a sight that he's seen from the angle depicted many times. The painting is incredibly realistic, but that's not what makes his breath catch in his throat. Shown among the foothills are massive crystalline spires of brilliant colors. They were beautiful to see even on canvas, Cole can only imagine what they might look like if they were still standing.

I can't believe there used to be watchtowers in the mountains, Cole thinks. Or maybe there never were. It's a painting, after all.

He continues through the building, down a hallway with doorways on each side. He peeks into the first to find a room roughly fifteen feet wide with a circular table in the center. The table reminds him of the statue in the lobby – it seems to be growing from the floor itself, sculpted perfectly to suit its purpose. This masterpiece table, Cole notices, is missing chairs to go with it. Come to think of it, there were no chairs at the desks, either.

He took a quick glance into each of the doorways in the hall, finding nothing of note. At the end of the hall, there is larger chamber with four desks. Cole combs over them, finding maps and what might be receipts or invoices maybe. General business litter, anyway. He scoops them up the same as he did the papers from the desk in the lobby, adding them to his stash. Maybe I can sell this stuff to a collector or something.

At the third desk, Cole finds a sketched portrait of a woman that causes him to linger. She looks a bit like Katrina, he thinks. The pictured woman looked young and lively, with curly dark hair. She was wearing very ornate earrings and matching necklace. Her wide smile suggested an easygoing personality.

His new discoveries took his complete attention. He had never seen anything like this before, and it left him dumbfounded. Distracted.

Too distracted to pay attention to any potential dangers.