Under the morning sun, we stood together at the edge of the village, ready to set off. The villagers had come out in full, bustling around us with smiles and tearful goodbyes.

“Here, Duke!” one of the older men said, pressing a basket of bread into my hands. “You’ll need some good food and water for the trip. It’s not much, but it’ll keep your belly full.”

I nodded, touched by the gesture. “Thank you,” I replied sincerely. “We’ll put it to good use, I promise.”

Others came forward, offering small bags of coins and supplies. “For your journey,” one woman insisted, her eyes full of kindness. “Take it, please. You’ve done so much for us.”

I shook my head, keeping my voice humble. “Your kindness is more than enough. I don’t want to take from you since we only rebuild the houses,” I said gently, refusing the coins.

The villagers murmured in appreciation, though a few looked disappointed they couldn’t do more. One young man even stepped forward, puffing up his chest. “If you take me with you, I can help protect you on the road!”

I chuckled, clapping his shoulder. “That’s a generous offer, but we’re alright. Besides, you’re needed here. This village wouldn’t be safe without you,” I said warmly, easing him back with a nod.

Eventually, we made our final rounds, saying our last goodbyes. Just as we were about to leave, the village chief approached us with three horses.

“Mister Wiler?”

“These will speed up your journey. They’re well-trained and loyal—take them, and they’ll serve you well.”

We thanked him, each of us taking our mounts. Kaldor and Sylas shared one of the larger horses, while Mira and I took the other. Kael, with a grin, claimed the smaller horse, giving it an affectionate pat on the neck.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, buddy,” he whispered to the horse, earning a snort in response.

As we rode out, we glanced back one last time at the village. After that, valleys that stretched as far as the eye could see, and vast plains under endless skies were the only things left.

Two days into our journey, we passed through the ruins of an abandoned village, its buildings overtaken by vines and trees.

The ruins loomed in front of us, shrouded in shadows and twisted by time. Stone structures rose up like skeletal remains, choked by vines and overgrown foliage. Even the air felt thick here, weighed down by years of abandonment. We dismounted and ventured into the silent remains of what was once a bustling village, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound.

We decided to set up a small camp here for the night so Sylas conjured an earth fence so we could tighten the leads of the horse.

Mira ran her fingers along a crumbling wall, her expression both awed and saddened. “Hard to believe people had lived here, families and memories, and now… nothing.”

Kael, stepping cautiously beside her, gave a solemn nod. “Time catches up with everything, doesn’t it?” he said, his voice low. “Places like these… they’re reminders of how fragile we are.”

The silence grew as we each took in the somberness of the place, but a sense of curiosity drew us deeper into the ruins. Ivy climbed the stone walls, and broken beams lay scattered across the ground, their wood brittle with age.

“Do you think anyone comes here anymore?” Sylas asked, peering down a winding stone alley swallowed by shadows.

I shook my head. “Doubt it. This place has probably been untouched for years.”

Kaldor picked up a cracked pottery shard from the ground, turning it in his hand. “Imagine all the stories this place holds.” He dropped the shard back down, brushing off his hands. “Strange, isn’t it? We’re just passing through, but to the people who lived here… this was their whole world.”

We moved slowly, almost reverently, through the village’s narrow paths. The darkness seemed to swallow a sound, amplifying every shuffle of our footsteps. Around us, shadows stretched across broken walls and hollowed-out buildings.

As night began to creep in, the atmosphere grew heavier, the silence around us pressing in until every whisper felt too loud. Somewhere behind us, a small stone rolled, sending an echo through the deserted place.

Sylas jumped, her eyes wide. “Did… did anyone else hear that?”

“Probably just a stone,” I replied, though I found myself glancing nervously over my shoulder. “We’ve been here long enough; maybe it’s time we head back.”

Just as I said it, a shadow drifted out from behind one of the walls, tall and looming in the dusk. It moved slowly toward us, its figure barely discernible in the darkness.

Sylas clutched my arm, her voice rising in panic. “D-Duke, that… is that a… ghost?”

I blinked, suddenly feeling my own heart pounding. “Uh… maybe?” The shadow wavered, looking eerily human as it hovered closer.

“Oh, no. No way,” Sylas whispered, her grip tightening as she started to summon magic into her hands. “I am not letting some ghost follow us out of here.”

“Wait, Sylas!” I hissed, realizing that her magic was strong enough to flatten what was left of the ruin if she panicked.

But before she could release her magic, a familiar voice broke through the tension. “What in the world are you doing?! It’s me!”

Kaldor’s face appeared in the dim light, his eyes widening as he realized we’d mistaken him for a ghost. He raised his hands, eyebrows raised in mock horror. “A ghost? Really? I’m hurt,” he said, crossing his arms as he stepped out of the shadows.

Sylas let out a huff, letting her magic dissipate with a flicker of light. “You scared the life out of us, Kaldor!”

“You almost took the life out of these ruins!” Kael said with a laugh, clapping Kaldor on the shoulder.

Kaldor chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I was just checking out that old well over there. Didn’t think I’d be mistaken for some spirit haunting the place.”

Sylas narrowed her eyes at him, though there was a faint smile on her lips. “Next time, warn us before you wander off into the shadows.”

We shared a laugh, the tension fading as the familiar warmth returned among us. We continued exploring carefully, peeking into what might have been an old market square, where stones marked the outline of once-sturdy walls. Time had nearly erased the place entirely, but a few forgotten things remained—a broken wooden cart, a rusted sign, and fragments of pottery.

We laughed not noticing Mira was nowhere to be found

*In a dark corner*

“Anyone, please save me, hick” Mira cried as she hugged her legs tight.

A mouse came sniffing her hand

“GAHHH” She screamed

As we stood there, Kaldor’s voice softened. “Do you think there’s anyone still out there who remembers this place?”

Mira nodded and dusted the dirt off her clothes. “Probably someone, somewhere. But places like this are only stories now.”

With one last look around, we turned back the way we’d come, our footsteps echoing softly against the crumbling stones.

A week passed, with villages and towns unfurling one after another along our journey. Each place we stopped had its own charm, its own story tucked away between narrow streets and busy markets.

I’d learned to spot the life of a village in its tiniest details: a cluster of children playing in the dirt, the chatter of vendors calling out prices, and the occasional blacksmith’s hammer ringing out from an open forge. But despite the color and life around me, the ache of unanswered questions followed wherever I went.

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At each new stop, I’d approach the villagers, asking, hoping that someone, somewhere, might hold a clue to my mother and sister’s whereabouts. The responses were always kind, but they never bore the answers I was looking for.

I also asked them for some information about Arthur’s crime line, but most of them expressed concerns while others were too scared to answer.

One day, we arrived in a peaceful farming village. The thatched roofs stood low and cozy, and rows of vegetable gardens stretched along the main road, bursting with late-season harvest. I approached a woman working beside her cabbage patch, the scent of fresh earth clinging to the air.

She paused, wiping her hands on her apron, and listened intently as I explained who I was looking for. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen anyone like that, son,” she said, her eyes kind but apologetic. “Though… Laura Caddel you say? You’ll want to keep asking around in bigger towns. People travel through there more often.”

I forced a smile, nodding. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate your help.”

As we moved on, Sylas cast a reassuring smile my way. “Don’t lose heart, Duke. We’re getting closer every day.”

In a coastal town, we passed the following week, vibrant boats lined the shore, their colors reflecting off the crystal blue water. Fishermen gathered their catches on the dock, their voices carrying over the waves.

I spoke to the middle-aged innkeeper as we settled in for the night, his face thoughtful as I mentioned my mom.

“Laura Caddel?” he echoed, rubbing his chin. “About a decade ago, I had heard that she was a part of the Silver Blades. But now, living in a small remote village, I have no information about her location. Sorry for your loss kid…”

I managed a nod, the disappointment familiar but no easier to bear. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Sylas gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, her eyes warm with encouragement. “She’s out there somewhere. We’ll find her, Duke. We won’t stop until we do.”

The days blurred into each other, the vast fields, dense forests, and lively markets passing like scenes from a dream. As we journeyed on, the landscapes became a backdrop for shared stories, moments, and memories—small comforts in our search that never quite had the answers we hoped for.

Then, in a bustling village with cobbled streets and smoke curling from chimneys, we met a blacksmith who worked in his forge with a steady rhythm, his hammer clanging against iron as sparks flew around him.

When I approached him, he paused, wiping sweat from his brow, and listened patiently to my questions.

“I don’t know her,” he admitted, his face set with sympathy. “But a famous adventurer—that’s someone who’d leave an impression. If she was nearby, someone would’ve remembered.”

I nodded, swallowing my disappointment. “Thank you. Every bit helps.”

Kaldor slapped me on the back as we left the village square, his usual grin softened by sympathy. “Hey, we’re one village closer to finding them. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but we’re still moving forward.”

I managed a faint smile, grateful for the reminder. Every question asked felt like another chance at hope, and I clung to it, refusing to let go.

Our travels took us through old towns and forgotten villages each village unique in its way. Some seemed barely more than a few houses huddled together, with stray cats winding around doorways, and others bustled with life and trade, welcoming travelers from every corner of the region.

Yet, through it all, there was no word of my mother and sister’s current whereabouts, only stories of her past adventures and fleeting tales.

But even as each conversation ended in another dead end, the unspoken promise of our search pulled me onward, step by step.

Finally, after two long weeks, we emerged from a forest to see a vast stretch of sand in the distance. The land of Degaritas.

Kaldor whistled low, his eyes widening at the sight. “That’s… a lot of sand.”

“And a lot of heat,” Mira muttered, already fanning herself. “Just looking at it makes me feel parched.”

As we continued, we saw the wide river that encircled the sandy land, a natural border between this continent and the rest.

Following the river’s edge, we soon spotted a bustling port town. Small boats lined the docks, their colorful sails flapping in the breeze, and the sound of busy vendors filled the air.

“Looks like that’s our way across,” Kael observed, nodding toward a ferry.

The port was bustling with activity, alive with the sounds of creaking wood, calls of traders, and several boats gliding along the river. Small stalls lined the wooden walkway, displaying everything from salted fish and colorful spices to woven fabrics and trinkets that glittered under the afternoon sun.

Workers hurried between stacks of cargo, their shirts worn and faces weathered from long days spent near the water. The air was thick with a blend of salty river breeze and the earthy scent of freshly unloaded goods.

Nearby, boats of all sizes bobbed along the water's edge, some tied securely to the dock and others casting off to navigate the gentle but persistent current of the river. Ferries and cargo vessels were anchored close by, their hulls scraped and painted with the names of distant places.

I spotted the ticket booth tucked away under a shady awning, a small line of travelers gathering around it.

“How many?” the man behind the counter asked, eyeing us with a curious look.

“Five,” I replied, but Kael nudged me subtly, his expression wary.

I hesitated for a moment before clearing my throat. “Actually, we’ll need the tickets under different names.”

Mira frowned. “Why?”

Kael crossed his arms, skeptical. “Yeah, why? Every adventurer we’ve met used their real names. Even the famous ones. We’ve met Silverfang, Alric the Stormblade, and even that guy from the Crimson Banner—what was his name again?”

“Garrus the Ironwall,” Kaldor supplied. “And he didn’t bother hiding his name either.”

Kael nodded. “Exactly. The only people who use fake names are mercenaries, spies, or criminals. And even then, it’s usually temporary.”

Kaldor added, “Isn’t using nicknames going to make it harder to get information? If fewer people know our names, fewer people will talk about us. If we ever need help, we might regret it.”

I exhaled, already expecting this argument. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. We aren’t just some adventurers passing through towns. We’ve made enemies, and the more people who know our real names, the easier it is for someone to track us down. If we keep using our actual names, anyone looking for payback will have a much easier time.”

Kael frowned but didn’t argue yet, so I continued. “Even if adventurers normally use their real names, they have guilds backing them up. If something happens to them, the guild will notice. But us? We don’t have that kind of safety net. If someone wants us dead, we’ll be on our own.”

Sylas tilted her head. “He’s got a point. If we mess up or piss off the wrong people, I’d rather they be hunting for some made-up name than my real one.”

Mira thought for a moment before sighing. “Alright, I guess it does make sense. But let’s not make them too ridiculous.”

Kael still didn’t look entirely convinced, but he glanced at Kaldor, who simply shrugged. “Fine,” Kael muttered. “But if this backfires, I’m blaming you.”

“Duly noted,” I said with a smirk. “Alright, let’s get creative, then.”

Sylas stepped up first, grinning. “I’ll be… Ember Veil.” She crossed her arms like she’d just pulled it out of nowhere, but I had a feeling she had been waiting for an excuse to use a name like that.

Mira tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… Silver Breeze. Sounds nice, right?”

Kael sighed, then muttered, “Night Hunt. Let’s just get this over with.”

Kaldor chuckled. “Shade Walker. Has a nice ring to it.”

I nodded, glancing at them all before turning back to the ticket seller. “Guess that makes me Blade Keeper.”

The ticket seller, who had been quietly listening to our exchange, finally spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Alright then, that’s Ember Veil, Silver Breeze, Night Hunt, Shade Walker, and Blade Keeper.” He scribbled down the names, then handed over five tickets. “That’ll be—” he paused, grinning, “—a hefty sum. Ten silver coins.”

I took one glance at the price and frowned. That was far more expensive than I’d expected.

“That’s double the normal rate,” Mira muttered.

The ticket seller merely shrugged. “This is the only port leading to the Central Continent. You either pay now or come back next time.”

Sylas let out a dramatic groan. “Of course, it is.”

I clicked my tongue, thinking fast. We couldn’t afford to throw away this much money, especially with Degaritas ahead of us. “What about a trade?” I asked, leaning forward slightly.

The seller raised an eyebrow. “A trade?”

I nodded. “We’ve got three good horses. Strong, reliable, and well-trained. I’m willing to offer them in exchange for a discount.”

Mira turned to me, whispering, “And how exactly are we traveling once we arrive?”

I smirked. “Horses are good for tough conditions, but Degaritas has its own native creatures suited for the terrain. It’s better to get animals that thrive there instead of pushing our horses to their limits.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer, but the ticket seller still looked unconvinced. “Three horses for what kind of discount?”

Time for some theatrics.

I spread my hands and grinned. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why would I want some random horses?’ But these aren’t just any travel-worn beasts. No, sir.” I stepped to the side, gesturing toward our mounts as if unveiling a masterpiece. “These three have carried us across miles of rough terrain, swift enough to outrun danger yet sturdy enough to endure the toughest roads. Look at their coats—healthy, shining. These aren’t common stable-ridden nags. They’re travelers’ companions, battle-hardened yet obedient.”

The seller narrowed his eyes, rubbing his chin. “That so?”

I nodded confidently. “Of course. You’d be getting top-quality steeds—ones that can earn you a pretty sum if you resell them, or, if you’re smart, keep them for yourself. And since I’m in a generous mood, I’ll let them go for a deal. You take them, and instead of five full-price tickets, we get a discount to three people’s fare.”

The seller exhaled, clearly debating.

To add just a little more pressure, I clapped my hands together. “Of course, if you don’t want them, I’m sure there are other traders who would be very interested—”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Fine. Three horses for a discount. You get the tickets for three people’s price instead of five.”

I grinned, barely holding back my excitement. That was nearly a 40% discount. Not bad for a bit of fast talking.

As he scribbled down the final adjustments, I handed over the reins of our horses. Sylas gave me a knowing look. “Fancy tricks, huh?”

I smirked. “It always pays to know how to talk.”

Mira shook her head but smiled. “Just hope we don’t regret this later.”

The ticket seller slid the tickets across the counter. “Pleasure doing business. Safe travels to wherever the wind takes you.”

I took the tickets, feeling a sense of satisfaction. This might not have been part of the original plan, but at least we were covered.