The sound of children laughing and arguing reached the ears of the youth perched on the window’s ledge.

  He listened to the familiar cacophony, taking in the excited chatter of the children, the vigorous bartering coming from neighbouring merchant stalls and the murmur of many conversations that echoed all around his vantage point.

  He often found himself watching the daily bustle unfold in the small square just beyond his window.

  After a time, he noticed a group of children bursting out of a small alley and running all over the place, jumping over various crates of the square’s fruit vendor - nearly tipping them over.

  Under the barrage of the salesman’s heated cursing, the children remained undeterred, darting across the square with gleeful defiance before vanishing into yet another winding street. They were lost in a game of catch, the labyrinthine grid of alleyways serving as their boundless playground.

  The square gradually settled, and the youth shifted his attention to another unfolding event.

  He had always enjoyed the pastime, ever since he was a child. Given the choice, he had consistently preferred being by himself - lost in thoughts and imagining some grand adventure - rather than meeting up with other children his age. He had always been a rather reserved child, though his interactions with other people had lessened more and more in recent years.

  This development had regularly caused tiring discussions within his family - his other siblings being the total opposite of him - and had repeatedly been the talk of their local neighbourhood to the boy’s utter dismay.

  The people of Eresford were a lively bunch. They repeatedly found ways and reasons to celebrate - whether it was neighbourhood gatherings, feasts shared among friends and families, or the regular festivals held in the town’s bustling main square and streets. Occasions that were eagerly anticipated and often talked about by the townsmen many weeks after the event had ended.

  The people of Eresford often said that communication was as important a skill to any self-respecting merchant as any other. In the youth’s opinion, however, it was little more than gossiping.

  Eljas wasn’t a chatty person and therefore didn’t fit the description the townspeople regarded in such high esteem. In the past he had often become the focus of verbal reprisals and consequently been excluded from daily activities by his peers.

  He hadn’t really cared all that much. It was his mother who had often been far more devastated by it than he ever was. In his eyes, he had come to accept - and even started to embrace - this newfound freedom early on.

  Still, he had dutifully gone to the local school learning his letters and numbers all this time. His parents owned one of the many merchant houses in town and always aspired to reach greater heights within the Merchant Empire - a conglomeration of many city-states, merchant guilds and countries spanning over half of the continent of Deveron.

  Naturally, the help of their sons and daughters was factored into these aspirations and had strongly influenced their decision to spend the noticeable amount of money buying their children every time the necessary education. Eljas had gladly thrown himself into his studies - partly to escape the tedious nature of socialising, and partly to immerse himself in the knowledge and stories hidden within the pages of the school’s library. If becoming a merchant would help him experience these things, all the better.

  Their hometown, Eresford, was located on the outskirts of the vast empire, backdropped by a massive mountain range and close to a vast forest that stretched the western horizon. When immersed in his studies, Eljas often dreamed of faraway lands and the mysteries that lay even further beyond - of distant empires and magical wonders the world had to offer in abundance.

  He was pulled out of his musings, still watching the gentle bustle of the square, when his mother’s voice rang out from downstairs, echoing through the house. For a moment, Eljas considered feigning ignorance - he often did - but she called out again, more insistently this time, leaving him little room to ignore it any longer.

  ?I’m coming mother!“ He called back and jumped down from the window’s ledge. He gently closed the glass window - an expensive and rare commodity in this town and probably everywhere else he mused - and exited his room, swiftly heading downstairs.

  Being the youngest son, he lived in a modest room tucked beneath the roof of the house, crafted by a local carpenter his parents had hired when he turned ten - eight summers past.

  Though small and often prone to temperature fluctuations, it had become his personal sanctuary, far removed from the noise of the lower floors. Since then, he had carved himself a small world all of his own and a respectable collection of miscellaneous trinkets - gathered or traded for in his free time - adorned the walls of his room or lay scattered haphazardly across the floor.

  Fortunately, his mother rarely ventured upstairs; otherwise, he’d never have heard the end of it.

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and leapt over the last few steps, landing in the cozy living room with a spring in his step.

  ?Y-you called, mother?“ He inquired, slightly out of breath.

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  "Ah yes, Eljas. I see you were hiding in your nest again - I suspected as much. You know, it doesn’t do you any good to spend so much time alone. I’m glad you’re so dedicated to your studies, truly, but being knowledgeable isn’t the only thing that makes a successful merchant." She chided him.

  This little speech had become something of a tradition between them - his mother fretting and trying to coax him into socialising more each time he emerged from his “nest,” as she had come to call his room.

  ?A merchant should know how to navigate the social environment, to read the room and the people in it - communication is the opening act of any trade.“ She recited.

  ?Look at your father, a tradesman of high reputation - known to be of character and reliable business partner. A successful merchant with a rich history of advantageous trade deals. And yet, only his recent connections to other citizen of note in the local sector of the empire and his repetitive social engagements have paved the way towards becoming the local hall master of the Merchant Guild here in Eresford. You should take note of this and strive to imitate his laudable commitment to himself and to our family. So that our merchant house may always prosper and be blessed with good fortune in the years to come.“ His mother proclaimed, her hand resting on Eljas shoulder and squeezing comfortably.

  Eljas, patiently listening to his mother, nodded along. He respected his father of course, however he didn’t always see eye to eye with him. He had already experienced the darker sides of said commitment and the naturally accompanying intrigue and misery it caused too often to care for it. For the rest of his family, it was another case. His parents and most of his siblings had never questioned the necessity of treading these paths for further success and played their role well by all accounts; or his older brother of two years who had completely embraced this and regularly mingled with other like-minded, aspiring sons and daughters of merchant families.

  Who, in turn, were the lackeys of one particular individual. One notable reason as to why Eljas consciously avoided all social events and preferred to remain alone was the ever-present Maximilian - scion of the influential House Soros and son of the Master of the Guild overseeing the entire region his hometown was part of. Though publicly admired for his charm and future prospects, Maximilian had repeatedly made Eljas the target of his bullying early on, using his position to belittle and isolate him even more than Eljas already did by himself.

  What had begun as the bickering between children had soon turned into something worse. Eljas still remembered regretfully how he had publicly laughed at the obviously stupid answer Maximilian had once given in class at the beginning of their school time. Young Maximilian, only used to special treatment and obvious displays of respect and awe by others, had reacted poorly. It had come to heads between their fathers and had even been passed on to an independent town council - at the time both fathers were only hall masters - after the boy had continued to throw a tantrum by the obvious disrespect Eljas had shown to him.

  The final straw had been the council’s ruling in favour of Eljas though - something that nowadays would never be possible any more. The Soren Family had risen shortly after and the council was disbanded on the orders of the new Master of the Guild.

  ?Eljas, are you even listening to me?“ The mother had gripped him firmly now, slightly shaking him out of his thoughts.

  ?Oh but of course mother! Look, I will attend the next gathering in town, I promise.“

  Luckily, the next festival was still some time away he reckoned. Chances were high his promise would soon fade from her memory - the latest when all the social fuss would inevitably arise and sweep her attention away from his youngest son. He had successfully dodged…

  ?This gladdens me, Eljas! As it happens, the Soros Family has invited our family and other members of the guild to a banquet this Saturday! You will wear your best of course!“ She exclaimed, visibly happy with the outcome and promptly returning to what she had been doing before he had come down to her.

  Eljas, however, remained frozen in place - an empty gaze placed upon her retreating back.

  ?… damn …‘

  He had quite obviously fallen into a trap.

  ***

  He awoke to a cold room shrouded in muted grey. The familiar golden glow conspicuously lost and the comforting, warm feeling absent on his body.

  Eljas continued to remain on his back for a little bit longer and closed his eyes again - the hard, cold surface of the stone floor slowly grounding him in the present. The last wisps of his dream drifted away into the recesses of his mind. Though, he tried to hold on to the image of his mother’s face for a moment longer, her warm smile a reassuring sight - the heartache in his chest, however, ultimately washed the last traces of sleep away.

  His shoulder felt stiff and acted as a reminder for the crude treatment he had performed the previous evening.

  He re-opened his eyes and observed the ceiling of his personal prison. He let his gaze drift, a precautionary move in an alien environment.

  His eyes traced the curvature of the domed ceiling, observing how moisture had pooled in some places, forming droplets that fell with a steady rhythm - each one echoing faintly as it met the cold stone floor below, a grim metronome marking the passage of time in his prison. For a while he observed the damp, mould-streaked surfaces of this impenetrable cage he had found himself in.

  Finally, he laid eyes upon his forearm resting on his belly. Luckily, it hadn’t shifted much - his body far too drained from the prior ordeal, it seemed. He made a cautious attempt to raise it, only to feel a sluggish, delayed response. A creeping dread took hold of him in that moment. The nerves hadn’t escaped the injury unscathed and something important seemed to be compromised.

  Eljas let the now slightly trembling arm fall back onto his sternum and released a resigned sigh. He shifted his other uninjured arm, which had been lying parallel to his body, slightly - only to flinch in alarm as it suddenly brushed against something. A startled yelp escaped his throat as he instinctively tried to scramble away, but froze mid-motion the moment his eyes landed on the source of his fright.

  A small crystal vial, emanating a faint, dull glow, had been knocked over by Eljas and now rolled gently across the floor before coming to a slow, wobbling stop between the wall at his back and himself.

  ?…What the …‘ he thought while observing the still vial, though his mind came back with nothing.

  The situation deteriorated even further when a deep, grinding sound reverberated through the chamber. Eljas turned frantically around, frightfully looking in every direction while bits of mould and dust crumbled from the wall and even started falling from the ceiling adjacent to it.

  Then, a rectangular, man-sized slab of stone at the centre of the wall began to slowly recede backward. It halted after only a moment, only to resume its motion at once, rising this time with deliberate slowness into the darkness above.

  For what remained in its place was an opening - a door into the unknown.