My destination is the inn I am staying at, though I still have to wonder if it will be safe for me or if another cutthroat-for-hire will be breaking in tonight. I haven’t the coin for another room, though. Not until I can get my pay.
I take a detour to the Adventurer’s Corps to see if Corporal Level is still around to remedy that. It’s in the same district and the hour is not yet late. Perhaps I can get what I am owed and relieve myself of this bothersome quartet at the same time.
As I round the corner to the main street where the Merchant’s Guild Hall dominates, and the Corps building nestles, I see Corporal Level and Voella’Tien leaving the compound together, and looking quite pleased to be in the company of the other.
Drat. My business doesn’t need to interrupt. It can wait until tomorrow. Nothing will have changed, aside from me being cooler-headed, which is probably a wise thing anyway. I am surprised at myself for losing my temper. It is not something I am used to suffering, let alone showing. Bad form on my part, but the last few weeks have me drawn thin so fuck it, and fuck them. This ridiculous surveillance scheme is just the last straw in the stack.
I decide to head outside of town and sleep in the woods. The walk will do me well and the chances of being killed in my sleep are probably lower.
I walk for some time, deciding to go out the north gate. The woods that way are denser and quieter than the other directions. The east gate is the road toward Kalsis enVull and Ark Aegion, so the foot and cart traffic is quite high. The south gate opens quickly into farmland, but some travelers use small footpaths through the area as a shortcut to Buknar Vull or, even further south, to the Elven border cities, Dwaylla and Yurnii that reside inside the borders of Elysium but are somehow the purview of the spring elves of Athvisvale. The west gate also opens out into farmland but is also the primary trade route to Plor, so it is almost as busy as the road toward Ark Aegion. It’s probably better for everyone that I be alone, so I head out into the dark forests at the start of the foothills that skirt the mountains of Druumshallt.
The air is crisp and clear, and I work up a good sweat as I walk. The trek is quite pleasant, actually. My owl, sensing my leaving the city, now soars silently above me, peering through the darkness to warn me of any danger.
There is no danger to be had tonight, however, and I find a suitable campsite near a brook, shielded on three sides by a rock and clay embankment. I make no fire, but just roll out my bedroll and eat some travel rations while I enjoy the dark and quiet. The moons’ light filters through the trees and ripples on the surface of the running water. I decide to stargaze and empty my mind, letting go of the frustrations that seek to diminish my intellect.
After an hour, I am quite calm and focused back to the present. I haven’t the money to move to a different nation, so I must either find a path forward in the Adventurer’s Corps or find another way to earn what I need. The worst thing I can do is go to a new country with no money. I certainly don’t want to repeat that same mistake a third time, as tempting as it might seem.
I perform my nightly routine and kneel in the brisk water of the brook to rinse off. I air dry and do some additional stretches, testing the places where I was injured the night before. Aside from some tender spots that feel like bruises—though I can’t confirm in the dim light of the moons—my function feels as good as ever.
I dress and cast my warding spell before I lay down to sleep. My owl hoots under a bough in a nearby tree as I drift off.
I do not dream.
The morning dew has me feeling tacky as soon as I come into consciousness. I sit up and look around, the forest thick with mist. Visibility is quite low, but I have no worry that I won’t be able to find my way back to town before it burns off.
I do my morning exercises and drink deeply from the cool, mountain spring. Feeling refreshed, I meditate and review the spells I have prepared in my mental arsenal. I don’t need to clean up any blood today, at least as far as I know now, so I replace that spell with something to enhance my intelligence. It only works for a short time, but it might come in handy when trying to negotiate with Corporal Level.
My mental arsenal prepared, and my meditations over, I pack up my things and head back to town.
I walked quite a distance to reach my camping site, so I don’t reach the market district until mid-morning. A small line of recruits is outside. Active recruiting seems to be a good sign that the Corps is, so far, a success. Hopefully, anyway. Perhaps the turnover is so great that they’ve had to lower their standards.
As I walk past, I evaluate the people in the line and they seem quite adequate. Good. The promise of work and fair pay would undoubtedly attract mercenaries and ex-soldiers from other cities.
Corporal Level is in his office—the converted stall—and is preoccupied with writing when I knock. He looks up and his eyes light up in acknowledgment.
“Zer Khaldun, you’re here! The others told me you wouldn’t be coming,” he seems relieved.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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