Chương 6: Pulled Over

A minute of scrambling chaos ensued as they tried to hide the cart in a pocket of roadside trees. Joel dragged Perri by the front of his muddy cloak, rushing off into the brush. Pulling Perri down with him, he crouched behind some of the lumbering trees. Just far away enough to bolt it if needed but close enough to see the beaten road. He glanced up at the clear sky, light fluttering through the leaves. The sun had been in their favor, its light reflecting off the approaching riders. Plate armor.

If they were lucky, the horsemen were distant enough to have missed their accompanying cart. However, shining sun or not, the riders would've seen some people travelling. Joel chewed the inside of his lip as the others hid in the brush. The prudent action would be having some of them pretending to travel. The lot of them completely disappearing was more suspicious. It seemed like Boreth had already clocked onto the same idea.

Hiding on the other side of the road, the grey bearded dwarf argued with Curzan, who was a clammy mess. The angry scowl on Boreth's face told Joel that the discussion was going poorly. With a shake of his head, Boreth stepped out. He pulled at his cloak, doing his best to cover the cutlass at his hip. The dwarf walked slowly, pretending to continue down the road. One person wouldn't be convincing enough. Shit. Joel glanced down the road, checking if he had the time. He guessed a few moments, nothing more.

Dragging Perri again, he came out of the thicket to march alongside Boreth. The dwarf nodded at Joel while voicing something like a grateful grunt. A couple more people would've been nice but three was hopefully enough. Meanwhile, Perri was doing his damndest to wrestle out of his grasp. Joel shook the lanky man in a desperate attempt to calm him.

"They've already spotted us by now," said Joel. They all heard the arriving clamour of hooves behind them.

"Just relax, they might just pass us by." He wished as much. They moved to the side of the road, as any sensible traveller would. Joel kept his eyes low, expecting Boreth would take the lead. He hoped he wasn't shaking as much as Perri, realizing what a mistake it might have been to lug him along. The horses reared to a stop in front of them, their barding clattering against kite shields and plate armor. Ten gleaming knights turned their steeds to face the three of them.

Decorated with blue and purple sashes, their tunics threaded with the symbol of a lilac iris. On horseback, they towered like steel giants. Sweat trickled down Joel's back. He hoped none of the hidden idiots would be stupid enough to try anything. Being outnumbered should be enough of a deterrent. The plate armor — and the proficiency to utilize it — was a huge advantage, especially at lower levels. Drastically mitigating received damage, it allowed the wearer to be more aggressive in exchanges.

You'd be more than willing to take a blow to land an equal one on a less armoured opponent. And that wasn't counting the warhorses.

"Well met, travellers," voiced one of the closer knights, their flat tone indicating anything but.

"Good day, milords," replied Boreth, nodding. Joel appreciated that Boreth kept it short and polite.

"Strange seeing a salt dwarf this far in-land," said the broad-shouldered knight, lifting their visor to show a handsome face with a curly, blonde beard.

"Away from the coast and your beloved boats." The man's gaze scanned the three of them.

"Shouldn't you be out pretending to be a corsair like your countrymen?" Boreth twitched. A layered slight that Joel couldn't decipher.

"What is your business here?" continued the knight, trotting his horse around the trio of them. He casually flicked the top of Perri's rusty spear, nearly making the jittery man jump." Somewhat armed. Freewalkers?"

"No. Heading to Wardenhal to look for work," replied Boreth curtly.

"I suppose that might've been expecting too much," scoffed the knight, looking at Joel and Perri.

"Losing one's homeland would make someone desperate for work. The price paid for surrendering, I'd say." What the fuck was this guy's problem? Boreth's gaze hardened, his fist tensing into a ball. Joel saw he was willing to draw steel over that comment. Panic forced him to speak.

"We've come from the Berr-" A soft voice spoke up among the other knights.

"Enough, Lannwald. They aren't who we are looking for." The words had enough authority to make the knight give a small salute — a gauntlet to his breastplate.

"Apologies, Lady Durandt," Lannwald said, bowing his head.

"There's been rumours of Dominion spies crossing from the wastes."

"Considering how much you appear to know about dwarven history, are you telling me you believe that a salt dwarf would dishonor himself as a Dominion spy?" asked the voice with transparent incredulity. The voice's owner was as ornately armored as the others, but was a head shorter than the rest. A short sword, akin to a large knife, was sheathed on their saddle. A sleek wood handle between a silver pommel and hilt. They pointed to Boreth's hip.

"One with an ivory-hilted cutlass, no less?" Lannwald's face turned to a beet red hue.

"Of course not, my lady."

"Then let's move on, Syr Lannwald. We hunt more dangerous quarries." The knight nodded, tapping down his helm's visor. He prodded his horse forward, falling in with the rest of the horsemen. Joel waved away the dust that followed their galloping exit.

"Terrifying," Perri said as he collapsed, leaning on his spear.

"We'll wait some time before moving. Any distance between them and us would be smart," said Boreth, watching the riders depart down the trail. He gave a brusque nod to the two others.

"Good work on joining me unlike the rest of those gutless cravens." Curzan called out from the thicket behind them.

"Are we in the clear?"

"Speaking of cowards…," Boreth muttered, his scowl reappearing. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Curzan, now standing tall, emerged from the woods. The blue-white elf — serrated dagger in hand — walked alongside him. The other few of the band popped out. Across the road, Flendel led the horses and the cart back.

"Damn knights," Curzan said, pulling himself up onto the driver's seat of the strongbox wagon. He hooked his bow and quiver on the corner of the wagon cart.

"I would've shot them through the eye if they weren't so dense." Joel avoided rolling his eyes. Boreth didn't hide his sneer.

"Who were they?" Joel asked.

"Some busy-body noblemen who have too much time on their hands," Curzan answered, impatiently waving at others to hurry along.

"They were the Count Durandt's men. Pretty knights with pretty purple flowers," said the knife-wielding elf softly, retaking their position on the lockbox carriage's roof. Their eyes were completely black, it made their gaze unsettling. The break was short. Joel took the time to munch on the spiced cheese Gorum had packed. He caught Perri staring at it so he begrudgingly shared a few slices. Soon enough, Curzan shouted orders to get moving. Joel stuck to his usual spot at the rear, several paces behind the wagon.

Perri came bumbling next to him, saying whatever thought he fancied. It helped the hours pass.

"Who's that strange elf with Curzan?" Joel asked, finding an opening to interrupt Perri's endless babbles.

"First time seeing a lunar one? That's Bhas," Perri said. He moved closer to Joel, whispering.

"She's dangerous. I heard that she used to be a Freewalker with Dirien years back. Even Curzan knows better than to get on her bad side." The sun started its descent. Joel wiped the sweat from his cheek. He gave an understanding nod. It was better to just let Perri prattle on than prod further. And Perri did just that.

"If you ask me, I'd say that she and Boreth are the real muscle in our little group right now. Best stick with them in a scrap. Curzan's also a safe bet with his bow, as long as he's got the space."

"You all get into fights that often?" Perri paused.

"Well, some folks get crazy enough to try their luck. But then they learn that Bhas is the real crazy one." Okay, noted. Avoid pissing off the spooky elf. The plains morphed into craggy hillsides. The march had turned into a hike, the trail rolling up and downhill. The dipping sun cast long shadows of nearby boulders. A chilly wind swept into the funneled road. By the time they stopped for camp, Joel was thankful to rest. He enjoyed some more bread and cheese while warming his feet near one of the campfires.

Wrapping a blanket over his shoulders, he leaned against a toasty slab of stone. Sleep came to him easier than he expected. It didn't feel like nearly enough rest by the time Perri shook Joel. He woke to the starry, midnight sky.

"Sorry, Joel, but Curzan said to make sure you get the dead watch," Perri said, stifling his yawn. He promptly plopped himself where Joel had been laying, passing out instantly. Joel stretched before standing, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. Other than the crackle of campfires, the rocky hillside was quiet. He kept the blanket wrapped around his shoulders before looking around. The strongbox carriage — composed of dense, iron-banded wood — was parked several paces away.

A nearby campfire illuminated a seated Bhas, whittling away at a small branch. A pang of disappointment. If it was anyone else, it'd be worth risking it for curiosity's sake. Even elves had to get some sleep, though they required much less. There'd be other chances. Joel cupped his hands, blowing into them. He could make a quick perimeter check around the camp. Moving would keep him awake and warm. He set off, crossing his arms for more warmth.

"Quiet, isn't it?" asked Boreth, startling him around a corner. The dwarf was sitting in the dark, packing dry herbs into an elaborate pipe.

"Didn't see you there."

"Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget that humans can't see all that well in the dark," said Boreth, lighting the pipe's bowl with a match. He inhaled deeply twice before letting out a breath, smoke blooming from his mouth.

"You should carry a lantern."

"I'll get one in town," said Joel, watching the dwarf smoke. The sea shells in Boreth's beard reflected moonlight, rattling with his every inhale. Another puff of acrid smoke. Reekleaf. The game's milder version of tobacco. Joel hadn't smoked since he graduated. Quitting had been a silent pride. That said, he wished he had a pack of cigarettes, not even for the ritual of smoking, but just to have a normal reminder of home. Boreth must have caught him staring. He held the curved pipe over to Joel.

It was all the convincing needed. Joel took a single inhale, handing the pipe back. Hot smoke settled deep in his chest. The perfect, warm pick-me-up he needed for a cold night. A satisfied smile appeared on his face as smoke jetted out of his nostrils. He didn't care about breaking his abstinence, as far as he was concerned, it was sincerely worth it.

"You're too good-hearted to be with this crew," said Boreth as if he was stating a simple truth. The dwarf took another series of puffs, his exhales billowing out.

"What? You saw what I did to Flendel back at the lodge." Joel leaned his quarterstaff on an opposite rock. He rubbed his hands together to warm them against the midnight chill. Boreth shook his head.

"That doesn't mean anything. Plenty of folk can fight well. Doesn't mean they're good-hearted." Joel shrugged.

"If you say so."

"You showed up to face the knights when you didn't have to," continued Boreth.

"The crew needed someone to step up and you hopped to it."

"Hey, Perri did too," said Joel, chuckling. Boreth laughed his agreement, a hearty rumbling sound as warm as the pipe smoke.

"I think you have the training to be a Freewalker," said the dwarf as he relit his pipe.

"Even if the guilds make you work as a porter, go do something proper with that courage while you can."

"You stepped up before me though," replied Joel with a smile.

"Guess we're both just too good-hearted." Boreth didn't respond, continuing to puff away. The awkward silence lingered, and the mood soured. Joel took it as Boreth's polite way to tell him to piss off. Well, that meant patrolling camp.

"Thanks for the smoke," said Joel, picking up his quarterstaff. Boreth responded with an affirmative grunt as he left. It was going to be a long watch. The vast night made the camp feel miniscule. The stars peppered the sky endlessly. It all made Joel feel more lost. He'd been trying to keep himself distracted, convincing himself that this life could be a second shot at everything. His routine back at the lodge made that easier — simpler — to believe.

But it only took a day of travelling outside the safety of Gorum's for him to realize how danger could escalate. As he walked, Joel thought back to earlier in the day; how Boreth had been so ready to draw steel against the knights. What would have happened if he did? If a fight really broke out? Joel was certain that the knights would have skewered them dead on the spot. And then what? He'd show back up in his bedroom? Joel shook his head.

The thought had been gnawing at him since he had arrived here, an existential theory that puzzled him. The way he feared for his life with the knights proved that he wasn't prepared to test it. In fact, maybe it was time for some upgrades to make sure he didn't tempt fate.

"[Homebrew]." — [NOTIFICATION: Obtain ability score upgrades and class features for EXP.] [Total available EXP: 300] [Ability Score Upgrades] [Class Features] — 300 EXP wasn't an absurd sum. Still, after today's events, having that quantity of excess EXP when you could die at a moment's notice felt foolish. It was time to spend and pick up some features.

"[Class Features]," voiced Joel. His eyes scanned the list of classes that appeared. If it was about staying alive, it was smart to look at the physical classes. A class that prioritized VITALITY. The relentless burgundy hamster came to mind.

"[Barb-" Joel saw something move at the corner of his eye. It lurked by some nearby crags, further downhill, outside of the campfires' light. He gripped his quarterstaff with two hands, taking a step back. He let out a sigh of relief as Flendel's bald head appeared. The large man lumbered uphill, slow and plodding." Hey, you really shouldn't be wandering so far from camp," said Joel. He paused. A dark stain bloodied Flendel's shirt, the large man's hands holding his side. Flendel spluttered blood; a pained gurgle escaped his lips. Claws — sharp as razorblades — sprang out from the dark. They ripped across Joel's chest, sending him flying. A spray of his red splattered the stone. [Damage taken. HP: 64%]