After another day of rest and relax—uh, recuperation, I was ready to leave the mending manor, or whatever, I set about trying to get a handle on what exactly the state of affairs was in Tallrock. It was interesting to me that now that I was known as part of the crew that helped defend the town, the cityfolk treated me pretty well! Actually…I guess they sort of just…tolerated my presence, but believe you, me, that was a huge improvement over “Untrusted.” Now I was “Neutral.” I’d take it. Some even considered me something of a hero. Granted it was mostly children who half the time seemed to think I was hobgoblin or a big tadpole or something, and, also, they quickly moved on after getting bored, but still. As I’d said at the outset of the first evening—I’d change their minds. I think there were even some heroic poses thrown in, too, for good measure.

Don’t mind me, just participated in the small matter of saving the whole fuckin’ town from certain doom at the hands of a giant, man-eating centipede. No big whoop, right?

Tallrock was in shambles, with not a single building left untouched by the oomukade's rampage. The others had spent the next few days hauling debris, patching up roofs, and generally making the place habitable again—despite being exhausted. It had been a communal effort. Well, you know, except for me. I had been wrapped up like a mummy and snoozing away my troubles on Easy Street. But based on everyone’s accounts, it was quite the workout. With everyone pitching in, after only a few days they’d even managed to turn the place from a war zone to a functioning village once more. Well, mostly.

I spent some time reconnecting with the homies, mostly Rua and Edwig. The former had made it very clear that we should get back to her homebase as soon as possible, and the latter mostly avoided being in the public eye. It was fuckin’ weird.

Jes and Frida had apparently led the charge in assisting with the rebuilding—which meant Jes supervised, while Frida did the lion’s share of the actual physical labor. They’d been too busy to chat much, but there was a night where the group of us got together at a tavern after a long day and got fucking drunk. It was my first real taste of other-world alcohol, and since the legal drinking age in the Kingdom of Arlo was birth, I didn’t even have to sneakily sip it from under my coat. Though, because of the rebuilding, the swill wasn’t nearly as rich in variety as it should have been according to Orville.

Stinky…well, Stinky was up to something, though I wasn’t sure. Yeah, he helped, and even made a name for himself when he pulled an old man out of a chimney, but he was surly about—which goes without saying. I didn’t talk to him much either over the few days as he seemed intent on avoiding me.

I also got the real spiel on the inner workings of the city from Garth. He’d been happy to have someone to talk to about “sojourner shit” in me and Rua, and was clearly pretty satisfied with life in the moderately-sized medieval city. Enough so that he didn’t feel the need to come along and meet the others at Rua’s base camp—at least not until the rebuilding got sorted.

Oh, and, surprise, the captain didn’t try to arrest us after the whole fiasco. That was a relief, though she did give us dirty looks every time she saw us out in the streets.

Eventually, though, it was time to leave the city. We’d dragged our feet—well, mostly me—because I wanted to see if I could convince Jes, Frida, and maybe even Stinky to tag along. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

Jes and Frida, out of their own timeline as they were, still had business to settle. They needed to find Virgil, for one, who was out there somewhere, bein’ a cowboy, I guess. Second on the list was to return back to their homes and see what was left, if they had any ancestors that needed their ears slapped or whatever. I understood. It was likely a lot had changed in nearly five-hundred years, so they had to get their bearings. However, it wasn’t without its silver lining: Frida had confirmed that once they’d gotten all that shit squared away, they’d come find us. I mean, after all, there were still friends to revive. They took Merra’s amulet with them, though. Jes seemed to have forgiven me for my errors, at least in so far he didn’t blame me for the others’ deaths—at least, not completely. I wasn’t sure if I could give myself that much credit, but I was willing to take the wins where I had them. Frida and I spent the last day before they left just browsing the city, exploring and having a good time. It was bittersweet to know that they’d be leaving, but I’d hopefully see them again. That was it though, I kept my unwarranted affections to myself.

Stinky’s excuse was shittier. He was leaving to join back up with the Redmark—a name shared with Jes’ former college, but I didn’t think about asking about that connection before they’d left. I’d subtly suggested he abandon them, but he was pretty resolute in his refusal—and only tried to stab me three times—once successfully, during the conversation. Eventually, he too dusted off down the old dusty trail, leaving me, Rua and apparently a very eager Edwig to make the plans to head off.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Before we left, though, Edwig had needed to stop by Yosper Hall to pick up some belongings. He was acting weird about it the whole time, and the only indicator that he’d even had a connection there was when we arrived. He’d thrown the doors open and loudly bellowed, “I’m back, baby!”

Of course this was short lived as several minutes later he’d flown out the door with a pack over his shoulder and the sound of angry voices following him, merely shouting to us that “C’mon, we gotta go! Go, go, go!”

And so, we bid farewell to the city of Tallrock. Its towering walls and weird-ass turtle-riding guards would be sorely missed, but alas, our journey had to continue. Rua, Edwig, Rexen, and I set out into the forest, our packs heavy with provisions and our spirits higher than the writer’s room of a John C. Reilly movie. See? That’s what you call topical humor.

The forest beyond the city was dense and the path was winding, but we pressed on, determined to get the fuck back. I’ll admit, I was nervous. Ever since the curly-haired lady had commissioned me to rescue Rua, I’d been thinking about what would happen when I got back. And side note—I still wasn’t sure what the fuck was up with that lady. I mean, I’d started to sus it out, but it was still a mystery. Like, why not just grab Rua herself? Why not help fight off the oomukade? Why the heavy winter clothes? It essentially boiled down to one factor—it was beyond me. I’m sure there was some malicious machination lying in wait I’d eventually encounter, but for now, I was just happy to have a clear goal that didn’t involve being chased.

We encountered a few obstacles along the way, such as a particularly stubborn bush that seemed to have a vendetta against us, and a river that was more mud than water that Edwig seemed to take affront to in a way that seemed almost personal. But we persevered.

And so, the next two days were much the same. Rua, with her bizarre and inexplicable navigation abilities, led us through the wilderness, with Edwig and I following closely behind. I have to admit, I was starting to get a bit restless. Not only was the journey becoming monotonous, but I was also learning just how boring Edwig's life at Yosper Hall actually was. I mean, who actually gives a fuck about the intricacies of parchment-making?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trudging through the underbrush, we emerged from the trees onto a stretch of hillside. The trees thinned out here, and we could see for miles in every direction. The sun was setting, casting the landscape in a cozy, warm light. We set up camp there, and as we sat around the fire, I started getting really impatient. It had officially been the longest amount of time I’d gone Regaia without someone trying to knife my soft parts, and I think I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When we laid down to rest, I watched an inky cloud of smoke drift lazily across the night sky. Something felt off about it, but I didn’t know what. We slept, and the next day, Rua let us know that we weren’t much further from the end of our little journey.

She fuckin’ lied. It took the better part of the day to get close to where we’d been led to believe the encampment was, and by the time it actually came to pass, I was exhausted and pissed off. I’d finally managed to get some new clothes—and more importantly, boots—but unfortunately, the clothes chafed my skin and the boots gave me blisters. I ended up finishing our march completely barefoot.

But, as we crested a far hill, Rua finally announced that we had finally reached our destination. The headquarters of the sojourners, the place where that had become something of a safe haven. Well, except for Rua described as a nightmare upon their arrival. I had to admit, a part of me was relieved. So far, my leg of the field trip had been awful, filled with danger and death-defying ordeals, but the thought of finally being around others who had gone through similar trials was comforting.

As we made our way down the hill, I couldn't help but take in the breathtaking view. The land was lush and verdant, with tall trees reaching towards the sky. A sparkling river wound its way through the valley below, and in the distance, I could see the faint outline of a train wreck.

Damn, she really hadn’t been lying about that.

From afar, all we could see was a long row of train cars, the very same ones that had brought us to this world. But they were in a complete and total wreck, twisted metal and broken glass strewn about. The encampment, such as it was, had been built around them, but it was clear to me that it had seen better days.

But, just as I was about to remark on the beauty of the place, Rua turned to reveal our camp, and froze in horror. I followed her gaze and saw what had caused her distress. The camp, not far from the train itself was in ruins, smoke and flames rising from its central mass. The land around it was scarred and blackened, as if a great battle had taken place.

"What in the name of fuck," I muttered, my heart sinking.

"No, no, no," Rua said, her voice trembling.

Well, that's just great, I thought to myself. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse."

The same inky black clouds I’d seen the night before rose from several spots, the acrid smell of burning wood and metal filling the air. The tents that had been erected were tattered and torn, flapping wildly in the wind. The main building Rua had bragged about helping to construct was there, but now it was nothing more than a smoldering pile of ash.

What had happened here?

My first thoughts were, of course, that maybe this had all been a trap set by the curly haired fuckwitch—damn, Garth was right, that did sound awesome. But then, why would she request Rua’s rescue only to turn around and raze their settlement to the ground? Something was fishy, and I wanted to figure it out before it spiraled out of control. More importantly, though, I wanted to make sure everyone was alright.

In any case, It was clear that this was no longer some mythical safe haven, but rather exactly what it seemed to be: a makeshift camp in the middle of a warzone. And as I looked upon the scene before me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

This was not the sanctuary we had been promised, but a battleground.