Name: Cain Miller
Title: Blind Man's Avarice
Class: None
Strength: 20
Endurance: 23
Vitality: 15
Dexterity: 17
Intelligence: 11
Wisdom: 19
Perception: 5
Skills:
[Chop (2)] - passive
[Enhanced Sense (1)] - passive
The streets were distastefully loud, even with the sun lower in the sky. I followed Ilya along the roads as we made our way to the Rigged Tavern. He seemed to know where he was going, confidently weaving through the packed people.
I rolled my healed shoulder, stretching the tight muscle. It was hard to believe that it had been mangled practically beyond repair just yesterday. It hammered in the fact that I was no longer on Earth and that this planet's laws were completely different. It had been easy to push it aside since I had no visuals. However, that trick was no longer working.
Now that I was no longer on the brink of death, I could fully appreciate a skill like [Enhanced Sense]. What the priest had helped kick start that night had now steamrolled into a lieu of sensations and awareness. Along with the five points in perception, the skill left me feeling like the world was no longer entirely dark, with nothing beyond my arm's reach. The path Ilya and I walked was clear, moving people and immobile objects unhidden from my senses. My understanding of the world had improved; everything was interconnected to my feet that fell upon the ground with each step.
Ilya turned and walked into a building, pushing the door open to release noise that was even worse than what was outside. I couldn't deny that my new skill was beneficial, but it was too intense in overly loud places and when I got injured. Everything was amplified, and I wished I could turn it down at will. I wondered if I would ever get used to this or if it would always be an unfamiliar sensation running under my skin.
The building we entered opened into an expansive room where people crowded and moved around the space. Ilya stopped near the door, me beside him, and scanned the room for Keith's supposed friend. He seemed to know who to look for, as not long after, he took off again, his small feet easily tapping through the controlled chaos.
Instead of following him, I walked around the room, keeping close to the walls. This matter didn't concern me, so I wouldn't involve myself. I had no reason to interfere, even if Keith's request was suspicious. His code reeked of "spy." I'd considered warning Illya but decided against it—I was not his father.
Ilya had stopped next to a man in the corner of the room who didn't engage in a conversation when Ilya tried to speak to him. I heard Ilya mention that Keith sent him, which garnered a slight reaction. I had stopped about a dozen feet away, relaxing against the wooden wall.
Hearing Ilya repeating the phrase Keith had told him, I listened for the expected response. The man delivered, and Ilya handed over an envelope. That seemed to conclude any business, and the mysterious man swiftly left the Tavern. Ilya made his way back to me, and we exited as well. I breathed a sigh of relief after we made it out into the cool night air, where things were calmer. The breeze pleasantly ran along my overheated skin.
"Since that's taken care of, I wanted to stop and visit my mom and sister," Ilya told me. "We can probably stay the night there and save some money if you're okay with it."
"Alright," I responded. We walked through the slowly quieting streets, and as we went on, the houses grew progressively smaller as I sensed the road becoming narrower. Ilya stayed quiet and tried to muffle his footsteps, nervous energy surrounding him. I followed his example, testing my own ability to sneak. It was easier than I thought, my perception and senses giving me the means to discern where to step and how to place my foot. It was a process, but I gradually got to the point where I could not hear my steps even with [Enhanced Sense].
Ilya suddenly sped up, bolting to a house and quietly knocking on the door. A woman's muffled voice called through the door, asking who it was.
"It's me, mom," Ilya whispered back. "It's Ilya!" Locks were turned, then the door was quickly swung open.
"Oh, Ilya!" He was pulled into a tight embrace, clearly missed. "What are you doing here? Did you run away?" she asked desperately.
"No, mom. We're here on orders." She finally noticed me, inhaling in shock and pulling Ilya behind her. "Don't worry," he assured, "he's a friend." She slowly relaxed, wearily letting me in before shutting the door tight.
"What are you doing here?" Ilya's mother asked. A small child, probably around four years old, based on the weight of her steps, ran up to Ilya. He kneeled to hug her as she babbled at him, answering.
"We were attacked by a beast at our camp. Carter," he gestured to me, "fought it off but was injured in the process." He continued to tell the story, painting me as a hero who had saved his life. I almost laughed as he exaggerated my 'heroics,' clearly enjoying his mother's gasps and exclamations in response.
After eating a quick meal, we laid down to sleep. We had to meet the cart driver in the morning to return to camp, and Ilya didn't want to be late. However, he was up longer than me, talking with his family while I tried to tune them out.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
I woke to the start of movement in the streets and shook Ilya awake as well. Getting ready to leave, Ilya took his time saying goodbye to his family at the door. He was reluctant, and I knew it was hard for him because he hadn't wanted to leave in the first place.
As he opened the door, Ilya's mother walked outside to see him off. However, the street was oddly crowded when we exited, and I heard the clink of metal. It clashed against the ground, and I realized the sounds came from soldiers who stood at attention when we appeared. Ilya's mother pushed her daughter inside and closed the door before coming up behind Ilya and placing her hands on his shoulders.
"H-how can I help you?" she shakily asked.
One man stepped forward, leather and metal brushing against each other as he moved his hand to the sword at his side. It made me shift my hand to the axe that was usually tied at my hip, but I found it missing.
He ignored the woman, speaking instead to Ilya. "Ilya Skellfeather, you have been seen colluding with spies of the rebellion and handing over Federation secrets. Two men escaped with an envelope that was first in your possession last night, one a well-known member of the Gothsend Alliance." I could hear the sneer in his voice as he spat out the name. The information moved something in me, and I felt a strange sense of regret, wishing I had warned Illya sooner.
The soldier grabbed Ilya's arm, intending to drag him away. "You have been labeled a traitor to the Federation, and your punishment is execution." Ilya loudly protested, crying out as he pulled against the unforgiving hand. I could not sense his mother moving; she seemed halted in shock.
Then, she moved.
Lunging for the man off the stone street, I heard her screech for Ilya to run. Despite her efforts, the man was unmoved. He seemed utterly unbothered; his feet against the ground were like an unmoving mountain, fascinating me. With lazy strength, he tugged his sword from its scabbard, metal ringing clear like a bell. I heard the slash of the blade as it cut through flesh, and Ilya's mother began to wail. Blood splashed like rain through all the chaos, and I could only imagine the picture it painted. This time, Ilya had stopped moving from shock, his body limp against the solid ground.
"Obstruct justice again, and you'll lose your other arm," the soldier said, his metal armor clanking. She fell heavily to the ground, knees cracking against the stone. Ilya's legs collapsed as well, the man releasing him and allowing him to fall.
"Mom...?" he quietly whispered, but he was only answered by pained cries and gasps. Suddenly, he screamed. His wretched howl should not have been possible; such a tiny body releasing such a noise was unimaginable. Ilya's screams of anger traveled through the streets, bouncing from building to building and causing everyone to fall silent.
The guard sighed, impatient. "Get up," he commanded, kicking at Ilya's side. He still did not move, even at the loud smack against his skin.
"Fine. We'll proceed here. I'm tired of waiting." He flicked his blade to get rid of the blood, and I found the motion pointless, as it would only become dirty once again. Ilya finally moved, kicking off the ground to lunge for the guard like his mother had, and the sword came to meet him. It sliced through the air, indolently displacing anything in its way. Then, with a missing breath, it met Ilya's neck, smoothly severing skin, muscle, and bone until his separated head fell and began to roll. Ilya's body toppled, a quiet thud against the stone ground.
There was a pause in the world as everyone seemed to stop to behold the carnage. The brighter night had led to a dark day, and only blood and death came to greet it. Illya's mother began to cry Illya’s name over and over again. However, no one listened.
Movement on the street quickly resumed, the guard sliding his weapon back into its sheath. He shouted for someone to clean up the mess, but by then, I was already in an alley, walking away from the chaos.
My one source of information was now gone, and I no longer needed to stay here. But, more importantly, I didn't want to be noticed by the guards and attached to any criminal activity. I was concerned the mother would call me out; I was also unsure if anyone would connect me with Illya, and I did not want to meet the same fate as him.
I had to quickly meet the cart at the gate, lest it leaves me behind in an unfamiliar city. I weaved through the streets, stopping and asking for directions when necessary. The sun had not yet begun to rise over the buildings, only streams of heat making their way through the gaps to hit the cold ground. Making my way out of the eastern gate, the sun finally hit me in full force. I sensed the cart waiting to the side, the driver pacing impatiently.
"There you are! I've been waiting since dawn. Now we won't make it well past nightfall." He looked behind me, searching for the missing person. "Where is the boy?"
"He won't be able to join us," I told him, not wanting to elaborate.
"Hm? Well, whatever. If that's the case, it's his loss. Let's get going."
I sat next to him on the front bench, the back full of goods. As I was no longer injured, I could sit up just fine. The horses took off at their masters' urging, and we began a steady gait away from the city of death.
It had now been proved that Keith was not who he pretended to be. I understood his reasoning for passing off a dangerous task to another, but I was angry that I had almost been caught in the crossfire as well; it also seemed… wrong, to use a child for such a hazardous task. However, I wasn't sure if I wanted to do anything about him, as I didn't want to get tangled in his clandestine machinations.
I would take things as they came and only ensure Keith was aware that I knew. I was dubious about his plans and couldn't make any of my own due to lack of information. Would it be good to take a side in this war? I had yet to see any direct action, but I had been told it was in the west, the battle waging on the empty ground between the Federation's capital and the three cities.
If I was forced to choose, I would want to know who had the best chance of winning. Rebellions usually never bore fruit, so my preference would lean toward the Federation. However, I needed to find out what resources the Alliance had, so I couldn't disregard them yet. My own personal gains and benefits were of the highest importance to me, but in the grand scheme of things, I was only a small weakling, and it was doubtful I would have much say.
I did have some leverage as I now knew Keith's secret. I could use that information to help myself on either side. The other option was not to choose at all and leave through the forest into the unknown land. However, that idea had yet to appeal to me, as I wasn't optimistic that I could be self-sufficient in this strange world, especially with my recent encounter with the lenndi. Most likely, there were even worse beasts in the forest, and I knew I could not stand a chance.
These thoughts consumed me throughout the ride; a sense of urgency drove me forward. I had no idea what was in that envelope given to the Alliance and was unsure if the information would help bring the war to a head. It could be a changing point, and choosing between the two could be paramount. It could also be minimal, but being prepared could never hurt.
The rhythmic clomping of the horses was a constant, and the air grew clear and comfortable as we moved away from the city. We rested once to eat and give the horses a break, then we were off again. The driver's estimations were correct, as we were still on the road by the time the sun had set. I had asked him why we didn't stop and make camp for the night, as the horses could stumble and fall in the dark.
"It's more dangerous to stay in one place than to keep moving," he told me. "I've been traveling this road for years, my class [Coachman] proof of that. Bandits and monsters look for those stopped and lagging in the night, stealing and killing. It's always best to keep moving."
I acquiesced, listening for these supposed dangers. There was constant rustling in the grass surrounding us, rocks scraping, and sticks cracking. My heart thudded from the hidden enemies, always lurking. They were far enough away to stay out of earshot from the coachman and the horses, but I was aware, and the trepidation dug into my skull.
They never came close, and we made it to the camp unmolested. After thanking him, I went my separate way from the driver, then moved toward my tent.
The familiar surroundings and quiet were a significant improvement from the city. I reveled in the silence, and it welcomed me with joy.