Geo departed from Lake long after nightfall, his heart filled with a profound sense of contentment. It had been a remarkably triumphant day, all things considered. The goods he had brought with him had been in high demand, and he had even borne witness to a fiery clash between two traders over a precious barrel of ale. In addition to fulfilling all his essential trading needs, he had managed to procure three bundles of resilient, vibrant cotton cloth, ideally suited for bestowing as gifts during the impending summer solstice celebration. Ordinarily, he would have been on his way home within a matter of days, but circumstances were different this year. Fern's life hung precariously in the balance, and thus his journey had only just begun. He fervently beseeched that they would swiftly locate this enigmatic remedy, enabling them to return in time to save his friend's young daughter and, hopefully, evade another bout of the plague.
He vividly recalled the arduous struggle for survival that afflicted everyone. Panic gripped the populace after the catastrophe, but it was the plague that ravaged their hearts and communities, ultimately leading to the collapse of organized government. Initially, the virus struck haphazardly, infecting individuals in remote regions, but soon it began decimating entire communities. It wasn't long before the religious factions began likening the plague to the Seven Deadly Ills, reminiscent of some biblical tale. Each time he pondered Fern's ailment, he envisioned Rolly's trepidation when he uttered, "I believe it is one of the Seven."
He continued his stride, the camp alive with activity as people congregated around blazing fires, immersed in trade and merriment. Amidst the grim realities of everyday existence, where sustenance was scarce, the plague loomed, and marauders posed a constant threat, these moments of revelry held immeasurable value. However, for Geo, the festive ambiance held no joy, not since his father's demise and the night stained with blood. The flickering firelight and echoing sounds kept Geo on high alert, making it difficult to discern what lurked beyond the trees, where the fire's glow did not reach. Picking up his pace, Geo inadvertently collided with an imposing figure emerging from behind a tree.
"Watch your step, little man," the massive individual bellowed, reaching for his belt knife with his right hand while restraining Geo with his left.
As the man assumed an intimidating stance, Geo's mind drifted back to that fire many years ago, his father's life force seeping away into the earth. Unamused, Geo swiftly thrust his hand into the man's right shoulder, thwarting his attempt to draw the knife. Moving in closer, Geo executed a fluid motion, driving his elbow forcefully into the back of the man's skull. Staggering, the man retaliated, but Geo effortlessly evaded the blow, seizing the opportunity to trap and swiftly dislocating and incapacitating his arm. With precise footwork, Geo advanced, seizing the broken limb, and with a deft maneuver, he effortlessly hurled the man over his shoulder, propelling him into a nearby tree. The impact resonated with a resounding boom and a sickening crunch. The man lay motionless, unable to rise.
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Geo strode purposefully towards the four men, their faces frozen in shock. He moved with a swift, almost ethereal grace, striking fear into their hearts. But before he could take more than a few steps towards the fire, the men turned and fled, as if chased by a demon.
As Geo stood there, watching the men disappear into the darkness, the crackling flames and dancing embers brought back memories of a painful past. He was just twelve years old when he returned home from hunting with his father to find his mother, Iweesa, lying in a pool of blood. It was then that he learned the art of combat. Filled with anger towards everyone, including his father, Geo took on the responsibility of caring for his younger brother, who mourned their mother's loss incessantly. His father, consumed by grief, offered no words of comfort, only grueling combat training sessions. But Geo's anger fueled his determination to surpass his father's skill.
A sudden spark from the fire jolted him back to the present, breaking the hold of intrusive memories. Frustrated with himself, Geo growled, but the memories also sparked an idea. From tomorrow onwards, he decided, he would train Lake, in the ways of the sword and unarmed combat. It would be a breeze compared to training men at the age of fourteen. Perhaps Lake would come to appreciate the hours spent honing his own abilities. And if not, at least it would increase their chances of survival on this perilous journey.
As Geo made his way through the bustling camp, he couldn't help but worry that helping his friend would lead him back into a life filled with violence. It was a life he had left behind long ago. After years of healing and finding inner peace, his family had guided him towards the Good Path, teaching him balance and respect. It had been a difficult journey for someone who had witnessed so much violence and death in a world plagued by chaos.
His mind screamed danger, especially after the encounter with the man who had attacked him earlier. Did the man perish after hitting the tree? Geo didn't know, but he sensed more danger on the horizon, which meant more fighting. In silence, Geo pushed these thoughts aside, focusing on the present moment.
It took over an hour for him to approach the area near the Forked Bridge. He carefully moved through the woods, checking for hidden archers or lurking enemies near the meeting spot. He had circled around from the north and east, and now he was closing in from the south. Just as he was about to clear the final area to the west, loud voices echoed in the distance, catching his attention.