Ban trudged through the torrential rain, his jaw hadn’t unclenched since he left Arthemis and started walking towards, where he felt, the main road may be. His clothing squelched with every step he took, a hefty amount of mud and grass filled his boots. His mind was a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. He cursed Arthemis under his breath, regret gnawing at him for agreeing to such a bizarre ordeal.
The Aetherial Blade, or whatever Arthemis called it, was nowhere to be seen, and the cryptic tattoo on his wrist served as a constant reminder of the ridiculous pact he had entered, all the peril none of the reward. The rain seemed to intensify, mirroring Ban's inner turmoil. He couldn't shake the feeling that Arthemis had manipulated him, leaving him with nothing but an enigmatic tattoo and an empty promise. At least his wound appeared somewhat better; that tea must have had some medicinal properties or, more likely, another bit of magical nonsense.
He contemplated the promise he had made, Arthemis told him not to pursue the raiders. If he had contemplated going back on his word before, now that he knew no new power had magically manifested, his decision felt justified. He would never have agreed had he known this in advance. He reasoned that pursuing the raiders was more urgent than ever or he risked losing them, after the time wasted in his strange detour into the Aether.
Little time passed before Ban’s feet started to drag, his legs felt like bricks had been attached at the bottom, not to mention the chafing all over his body. His weary steps finally led him to the main road. The rain, unrelenting, continued to pour down, soaking him to the bone. He glanced left and right, searching for any sign of the raiders' passage. However, after hours of searching back and forth he had to accept that the elements had washed away any trace of their presence. Frustration had slowly welled up within him as he realized that the opportunity to track them had slipped through his fingers.
He could continue towards Shandar, but from all he heard, he was more likely to end up a slave or dead than make it to the capital of the country without enough coin to bribe his way through.
His jaw tightened further, teeth gritted against the harsh reality. The cryptic tattoo on his wrist seemed to mock him, a permanent reminder of a choice made in haste. Ban felt a mixture of anger and regret, fuelled by the belief that Arthemis had manipulated him into a pointless diversion.
The main road stretched out before him, a desolate path leading to the country of Shandar on one side, where the raiders had likely taken the villagers, and the ruins of Besart on the other. Without a hope of making it through the border, and without a better plan, Ban decided to head back the way he came.
Deep in thought as he walked, Ban didn't notice the approach of a merchant wagon until the two donkeys pulling it were practically sniffing at his hair. A middle-aged man with a friendly smile and a balding crown was guiding the cart. The cart itself was nestled under a timeworn but meticulously patched canopy, it bore the weathered marks of countless journeys and trade endeavours. The wooden frame, seasoned with the passage of time, showcased a rich patina that spoke of both age and the care invested in its upkeep. The roof, appeared to be fashioned from a durable blend of faded canvas and sturdy leather, curved protectively over the cargo, sheltering it from the caprices of weather.
"Need a lift, lad?" the merchant offered when he recognised Ban staring his way.
“Huh?” Ban eloquently responded. To be honest he was surprised to hear the man talk, he was expecting him to drive past him in a hurry with the rain, he never knew a merchant to hang around where there was no money to be made. After the bizarre encounter with Arthemis, he couldn't help but view offers of help with a measure of caution. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of the non-existent sword, only to remember that he wasn’t armed in the first place, so he stood wanting to bury his head in the ground in embarrassment.
Considering the offer but eyeing the friendly-faced merchant warily, Ban hesitated for a moment. “What's in it for you?” he asked; his tone may interpreted as rude to most, but he was feeling edgy for more than one reason and considered it justified.
The merchant chuckled, a warm sound that echoed through the rain-soaked air. “Well, you look like a soul in need, and I could use some company on this dreary road. Besides, it's not every day you see someone in the middle of nowhere kicking puddles and looking like a rag doll. Quite the conversation starter, isn't it?”
Noticing Ban was still looking at him with suspicion, the merchant added, “I've been on the road for years, young man, and I've met my fair share of hardships. Enough to know when someone needs a helping hand. Also to be honest lad, the rain has me worried I’ll come across some branches on the road or get bogged down somewhere and I could do with a helping hand moving obstacles out of the way.”
Ban's suspicion melted into a reluctant smile. The man had a point. It wasn't like Ban had a better plan or a clear path forward. He felt like he’d been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and hadn’t really had a chance to process any of it, he was dying for a respite. He eyed the merchant wagon one last time, assessing its authenticity and the sincerity in the man's eyes.
"Alright, but no funny business," Ban warned, climbing onto the wagon with a squelching sound as the mud released its hold on his boots.
"None at all, my friend. Just heading to Serenas, and company is always welcome," the merchant replied, guiding the donkeys back onto the road.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
As they got comfortable the wagon trundled along, Ban and the merchant gave each other a little space before the general chit chat began. The rain served as a backdrop to their conversation, the rhythmic drumming providing a sense of comfort. The merchant introduced himself as Eamon, a trader with a penchant for storytelling.
"So, lad, what brings you out here in this wretched weather?" Eamon inquired, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
Ban hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "Just... a series of unfortunate events. Got caught up in something I shouldn't have," he replied vaguely.
Eamon raised an eyebrow, "A young man of mystery, eh? Well, don't worry, we all have our fair share of troubles. Serenas is ahead, a bustling city with all sorts of opportunities. You might find a way to remedy those 'unfortunate events' of yours."
Ban nodded, appreciating the genuine concern in Eamon's words. Despite the rain and the lingering frustration from his encounter with Arthemis, there was a strange sense of camaraderie developing between the unlikely duo.
“Actually I’m headed for Bers…” he stopped himself midway through his sentence as he realised there probably was no point going back to the village, there was nothing left behind but charred remains.
“What was that lad?”
Ban cleared his throat, shifting his gaze from the rain-soaked horizon. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking a new direction may be just the thing," he replied, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.
Eamon gave Ban a sympathetic look, as if he understood the weight of unspoken grief. "Sometimes, the road ahead is more important than the places we leave behind. Life has a funny way of leading us to where we're needed, not where we think we should be."
Ban mulled over Eamon's words, finding an unexpected wisdom in the midst of the rain. The rhythmic sound of the droplets against the wagon, combined with Eamon's easy-going nature, began to soothe Ban's frayed nerves. As much he tried to remain reversed the merchants was hard not to like, he wasn’t sure if this was due to his years of salesmanship or his genuine personality but it seemed to do the trick in slowly opening him up.
As the wagon trundled along, Eamon continued sharing stories of his travels, tales of distant lands, and encounters with peculiar characters. Ban, in turn, found himself opening up, recounting bits of his own journey, careful to leave out the peculiar encounter with Arthemis. He wasn't ready to share that part of his story with a stranger, no matter how friendly.
“So this guy grabs the soldier by the ear and throws him out the bar with a kick to his backside! You should have heard the round of applause he got from everyone else. I tell you, no matter where you are, there is always the one guy who likes to throw his weight around and can’t keep his hands to himself.”
The rain persisted, but the mood in the wagon lightened. Eamon's laughter echoed in the air, blending with the natural melody of the rain. Ban, despite his initial scepticism, found himself drawn into the camaraderie of the road. Having found Eamon to be very well-travelled he decided he was comfortable enough with him to prod for some information.
“Surely taking a mage along on your journey would make life much easier? You wouldn’t have to worry about broken trees in your way and nobody would be daft enough to go up against a spell caster.” He tried to sound offhanded in his comment but other than knowing of their existence and some crazy stories here and there he knew little of the mage situation, it’s not like they would venture into a small town like Besart, but he was acutely aware that he needed to fill this gap if he was going to survive alone.
Eamon chuckled, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement. "Ah, mages. They're a rare breed, lad. You see, magic doesn't come cheap, and those who can wield it are even rarer. I'd be more likely to find a dragon offering me a lift."
He adjusted the reins, guiding the donkeys through a particularly muddy stretch of road. "Mages are usually in the employ of the wealthy or governments. They don't come cheap, and the cost of hiring one for a journey like mine would be more than I could possibly make. Plus, most mages are tied to the military so not available for hire.”
Ban furrowed his brow, realizing the complexity of the situation. "So, it's not just about having the coin, but finding one willing to accompany you?"
Eamon nodded sagely. "Exactly. Even if I had a chest full of gold, persuading a mage to join a simple merchant on the road is like convincing a bear to dance. They have their own commitments, and most prefer the safety and prestige of serving a lord or being part of a powerful institution. Word of advice, try not to annoy a mage or their Aegis knights unless you want to make your life complicated.” He paused before he finished “…and short.”
“What’s an Aegis knight?”
“That’s right I guess you wouldn’t know. Each mage is assigned a knight; some say there is a magic bond between them, but all I know is that they stick to each other like burrs to wool. It’s kind of a package deal for most mages, even those not in the military sometimes have a someone like that.”
Ban absorbed the information, realizing that the world held more intricate layers than he initially thought. Magic and those who wielded it were not only scarce but appeared to be entwined with power and politics, not really his area of expertise.
"So, if I were to encounter a mage, it's likely they'd be part of some lord's entourage or a military force," Ban mused aloud.
"Aye, that's a safe assumption. The common folk like us rarely cross paths with mages unless it's during a royal procession or a military parade. They keep to their own circles, and rightly so. The kind of power they wield can be a double-edged sword," Eamon explained.
Ban couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. The allure of having a mage by his side seemed like a distant dream, overshadowed by the harsh reality of their scarcity and the complications that came with them.
Eamon must have read something on his face as he laughed heartily. "Looks like you’re having some deep thoughts! In my experience, there is little magic can do that we can’t do for ourselves. There's plenty of wisdom and strength to be found in the mundane. Not every problem needs a fireball or a lightning bolt to solve. Sometimes, a good pair of hands and a bit of wit are enough to see you through."
As they continued their journey, Ban absorbed Eamon's words, realizing that he needed to navigate this world knowing he could only rely on himself. The rain continued to fall, but Ban felt a newfound resolve building within him. If mages were out of reach, he'd have to find his own path, relying on his own skills and resourcefulness.
After a few days and more logs than Ban though possible on the road they finally approached Serenas, the rain which had followed them for days also decided it was a good time to make way for a bright morning, leaving behind a misty landscape. The city emerged on the horizon, its spires and towers shrouded in a soft veil. Eamon turned to Ban with a grin.
"Well, lad, it seems we've made it through the worst of it. Serenas awaits, a city of endless possibilities. Who knows, you might find what you're looking for."