The somber mood was our yoke as we continued our hike through the, now, monotonous countryside. Sure Tah'Styr seemed to accept her fate, but it just rubbed me the wrong way. Imagining her becoming no better than some thrall made me want to vomit.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to start doubting her professed love for me, but I am worried that in the future she will be so beholden to me that it will affect her critical thinking skills.

I can only imagine us being in a similar situation like the Noble from the story and Tah'Styr does something so horribly misguided that it causes us to lose everything. Doubly so as she is the smartest of our group. While it was somewhat selfish, the thought of potentially losing her bright mind made me want to reload the previous save, even if I knew I couldn't.

-It all feels like things have been constantly going downhill since the start of the day... After the 69-

The irony that we were technically moving UP-hill was not lost to me.

The road that we were on was similar to the one we took to get to O’Carón. It must have been considered a highway as it was fairly maintained. The road itself was wide enough that two wagons could travel abreast, or more likely, travel past each other.

It was not exactly flat but more like a very shallow hump where the apex was centered and it gradually tapered off on both sides into the ditches to either side, likely to prevent water from pooling and creating large puddles. Past the ditches were berms that segregated pedestrians from the wilds of the forest and mountains that loomed beyond. Honestly if it weren't for the foul mood I was in, and had access to my phone, I would have just stood there capturing the environment.

Being a hermit afforded me few chances to actually see the countryside, so when I did go on a trip I made sure to actually look around and breathe in the view, and fresh air. Despite the sour mood tainting it, I still put my head on a swivel looking at the monotonous countryside. For while it was basically the same thing: evergreens, deciduous, mountains, meadows, ETC; there was still the occasional interesting collection of the above mentioned that just drew my attention. Even the odd critter caught my eye as they rustled the leaves or pranced off after being alerted to our presence...

[ Start action Log ] [ Onimous ]

[Perception Check] [NULL Advantage]

[R: 17]

[+3Mod]

- 22 -

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

...It was this active perusing that led to me spotting a humanoid figure crouched behind some bushes near the side of the road a bit of a distance away. If I hadn't been actively surveying my surroundings I would have missed it, what with the fact that the clothes being dyed natural colors and a cloak masking the majority of the silhouette. They'd seen us as evident by them putting away what looked like a spyglass.

I needed to alert the group without also alerting the ambushers, luckily our time spent in Myth-Land, and their advanced AI, had led to Fahkir sharing her Military lingo with us for situations just like this. After all, what's wrong with talking about getting a drink?

I put my arms behind my head as if resting them there like some spunky teen and started to walk backwards while facing them.

"Guys, all this walking is tiring, it'll probably be 7 as soon as we get to the next town. I'm gonna knock back the first beer I see. What about you guys?"

I looked at all three of my companions. It took a moment but I saw Fahkir instantly start reaching down to ready herself to draw her warpick. Seeing as she's the one who trained us on this, it was to be expected.

"Just a single beer? You know what they say man, 'You never just drink one beer'. Still though I'm sure we will get there sooner than 7. I'm thinking maybe arrive at 5 then go to the tavern at 7, then see how the night takes us."

Tah'Styr finally did the fast maths to understand the implied instructions and also laid her hand on her glorified mace.

"I don't know guys. You two might be able to handle multiple bottles, but I don't think I can stomach more than one in a night, I doubt Motherly-wolf will even finish a single bottle off."

"Hey! I'll have you know I have quite the appetite for spirits!"

Understandably, Motherly-Wolf had no Idea that we were talking in code. Tah'Styr ignored her outrage and continued to speak in code as we got closer to the ambush.

"Should we even get drinks? I really don't want to repeat what happened at Raging Cobras."

"Ah Raging Cobras, THAT was a frustrating time. Hehe no, we're getting those beers because we deserve them."

I said it with a chuckle, like it was just some drunken tomfoolery. In reality I got a cold shower from that name.

Raging Cobras was a big PVP game the three of us played prior to Myth-Land. In fact it was the reason why we started playing it, that and Tah'Styr's recommendation as she already had an account on it for the Streaming.

It was an MMORPG game that was rather hardcore. One life, one account, no retries. It didn't stop people from using fake emails to make new accounts, but for the most part it was brutal. We had gotten fairly high leveled until one raid went south fast. 3 Level 60's all wiped due to being ambushed after we had gotten rather cocky. Several controllers were busted after that.

Now we were faced with a similar situation just instead of controllers being busted our lives would be if we bit off more than we could chew. Worse, we had no choice BUT to spring the ambush and we had an escort "NPC" with us. NO ONE likes escort missions.

We must have gotten close enough for the bandits to feel confident in trapping us as out of the OPPOSITE side of the road strutted a broad-chested and towering man. He dropped his cowl to reveal a very military looking man that wouldn't be out of place to see in Fahkir's barracks, back when she was Chris.

His chestnut hair was the 2-on-top-1-on-side haircut most army guys have. He wore a gambeson that was coated in grass stains and mud, whether on purpose or just as a result of his dirty work. A large scar bisected a nose that has personally fist bumped one too many knuckles. Spear held loosely in his right hand, he grinned at us revealing that the bandit profession did not have dental.

"Well, well, well. Wot's dis den?"

With his introduction the person I originally spotted stepped out brandishing a short sword and crossbow, and from the same side as the leader two more lackeys walked out banging their clubs onto their round shields. The scout kept his face covered clad in a similarly stained gambeson. The two lackeys were surprisingly the only ones who wore helmets but they also only sported stained tunics, tunics that already bore several patches that were threadbare.