Having spent the entire night either awake or sleeping beside Anabella's lifeless body, Geral departed the city at daybreak when the gates were unlocked. A group of merchants had formed a caravan behind him while he waited for the gates to open, but he soon discovered that they were headed in a different direction and would only be accompanying him for a small portion of the journey through some ruined quarters of the city. Dalia had been present at the gate, but he tried to avoid her gaze. Too many painful memories were associated with her. She simply nodded at him when the gates opened but did not approach him to shake hands or say anything.

As he rode on the west-headed road towards the heart of the republic, Geral could hear the caravan trailing just behind his carriage for the first few hundred meters. However, at the first bifurcation, the merchants turned left to take the southwest trek towards the border town of Komran, leaving Geral to ride alone.

He progressed slowly through the spooky, silent city quarters, cautious of any noises. The area was unusually quiet, with the eerie landscape blanketed in a depressing grey hue.

As soon as he left the eerie, desolate city quarters and reached the old city limits, a peculiar vegetation began to sprout.

The magical storm had ravaged the land; what was once a thriving area of fertile fields and solitary farms that had once fed the city had been transformed into a depressing grey landscape.

This new flora seemed to have taken over this part, some of them having beautiful and innocent-looking flowers contrasting with the grey landscape, others already giant and contorted, looking like wicked old trees frozen at the moment when they tried to grab you.

The view was still limited to a few hundred meters, and strange noises could be heard intermittently, sometimes followed by violent clashes. Fortunately, the road remained deserted, and he was able to keep the horses at a steady trot.

The road was in good shape, and his carriage continued to move swiftly along it. He wondered if the city was still maintaining it or was so from before? How long will it stay in good shape? Could they keep up with all those roads? Were they using slave labor, or some good mages were doing it?

He had been traveling for hours, surrounded by a never-ending blanket of fog and a bleak landscape, when finally, as the first signs of green grass appeared, the horses lightened their pace, and Geral breathed a sigh of relief when the suns broke through the veil of clouds.

The most treacherous part of the journey was now behind him, and he began to search for a suitable spot to stop and rest.

As he gazed up at the two suns, which were closer together than he remembered, he raised his fist and let out a curse, remembering the Twin Gods' day and the sacrifice.

Suddenly, a dark shape appeared in the sky, and his heart raced as he thought a giant predator was coming for him. For a moment, he feared the Gods might be punishing him for his insolence; however, he soon recognized the shape as Fify, Olomuc's dragon, and breathed a sigh of relief.

To his surprise, the dragon came closer and, in the end, landed beside his carriage, kicking up a cloud of dust that enveloped Geral and the carriage. He quickly covered his face with his right arm to protect his eyes and soon heard the orc's voice.

"Early on your way!" Olomuc wondered.

Geral nodded, spitting dust to the side, then waved to the orc.

The orc laughed and looked down at him from the height of Fify's back, where the air was clean.

"Sorry for the dust!"

The dragon stepped closer to the chariot, causing the horses to neigh in fear. Geral had to strain the lines to keep them from running away.

The orc asked, "Time for a break?"

Geral nodded again and pointed towards a small group of trees, where a creek was meandering through the fields and getting close to the road. Once he drove the carriage under the trees and freed the horses, Geral tried to calm them down and let them graze on some fresh grass. He approached the orc, who was already brewing coffee over an improvised fire.

Geral inhaled deeply, the alluring aroma of coffee reaching his nostrils.

"Coffee?" he wondered, glancing at Olomuc.

The orc let out a soft laugh, "Not quite coffee, but a plant that shares a similar scent. It's one of my personal endeavors. It might even have some additional effects, but it's just as good as the real thing."

Curiosity piqued, Geral asked, "Additional effects?" He then shrugged and raised a brow. "Do you still have some of those sausages?"

Olomuc nodded in affirmation. "It provides a minor boost to vitality and a decrease in intelligence, but that won't matter to a non-caster like yourself. Sausages, you say? Of course, I have some! That's another one of my little projects. I have a couple of farms up north that produce them for me."

Geral was taken aback by this news. "You're a farmer?"

Olomuc bared his teeth, revealing two rows of white and yellow teeth, and let out a hearty laugh. "You could say that! I helped some struggling farmers and resettled them up there. They handle the labor, and I oversee the planning and quality control, like testing the sausages, you know, and also marketing and distribution!"

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

As Geral and Olomuc munched happily on a mountain of sausages, Fify amused herself by playing with the horses. The dragon's movements were so gentle that Geral realized the horses weren't frightened at all; Fify must have been doing something right.

Curious, Geral asked Olomuc, "Is Fify not going to eat them?"

Olomuc shook his head, correcting Geral by saying,

"She, not he! She knows you need them, and I don't think she'll volunteer to carry your carriage."

Fify snorted and glanced at them, causing the horses to jump further away in surprise before calming down.

Geral rolled his eyes, realizing the dragon could perfectly understand them, then brought up a question that had been nagging him since Anabella's imprisonment.

"Why do you serve Grackak?" he asked.

The orc watched him with indignation in his eyes and replied, "I do not serve him; I am helping him. There is a difference!"

Geral wasn't going to let the matter slide so easily. "So, you don't serve Grackak, your lord?" he pressed.

The orc sighed in response. "That's just a term we use for the sake of convenience, of impressing the spawns."

Geral was taken aback by the response and almost choked on a piece of half-chewed sausage.

"Wait, you're the one person in this world who I thought wouldn't call the NPCs 'spawns' in a dismissive manner!"

Olomuc chuckled softly and patted him on the back, nearly knocking him over.

"Well, they do refer to themselves as spawns of this world. It's easier than saying 'sapient beings of this world,' but to me, it's all the same. The spawns are used with a more authoritarian regime. They would not respect a weak leader, even in their republics."

He shrugged.

"But let's not talk about spawns anymore. You were wondering why I support Grackak? He's one of the few people from our world who's trying to build up a society here, which is no easy feat. He has some controversial recruitment methods, but what he really does is force some players to come here, give them several tasks to help improve the town, and then let them decide if they want to join the society or leave. It's mostly worked out okay, except for that stupid assassin who didn't like his methods and decided to show it by killing a bunch of citizens. Technically, she had the right to fight back, but killing those poor sobs was a bit of an overreaction on her part."

He rolled his eyes. “I had not been here when she came, so I speak only from what I've heard. I had warned him that he was overdoing it, but yeah, that is Grackak. So, no, I do not serve him, but I support him... for the time being."

Geral swallowed and took another sausage from the plate. "For the time being?"- he wondered.

Olomuc sighed.

"You know, funny thing. I am an orc, and I see the republic having attacked the orcs without reason, just because they are orcs. I was thinking of going to support them."

"Support the wild orcs?"

He shrugged." Maybe."

“What can a lonely person do?” - Geral wondered

Olomuc raised a brow.

“I'm the highest level around. I am level ninety-two,” – he said without Geral having to ask him – “And I have Fify. We certainly can make an impact.”

“What level does Grackak have?”

Olomuc shook his head. “That's a state secret. You won't know unless you're able to see for yourself."

Olomuc leaned in closer to Geral, his voice lowering to a whisper.

"Well, I'm going to leave; I wanted to remind you something. You swore to do something for Anabella. I think you will do it, isn't it?”

Geral hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with the implications of such a question. Why would Olomuc question that?

He answered instinctively in a whisper: “Yes,” he said firmly. “I will do it. Why do you ask?”

Olomuc wet his lips and repeated himself.

“I mean, you will do it exactly as she asked you, isn't it?”

Geral nodded again, his eyes questioning.

“That's the plan.”

Olomuc gazed at Geral, considering whether to say more. Finally, he let out a deep sigh. “You do know that Anabella was an undead, right?”

Geral nodded. “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything? I will still keep my promise to her, no matter what.”

A strange glint appeared in Olomuc's eyes. “Are you not suspicious of anything?”

Geral frowned. “What should I be suspicious of?”

The orc stood up and then sat back down. “Okay. Under certain conditions, the undead can survive even if they are killed. It's still relatively rare, but... okay. It's possible that she gave you instructions to bring her back to life.”

Geral's heart rate skyrocketed. “You don't really think...”

Olomuc shook his head. “No, I don't think so, but I did have my suspicions.”

Geral's eyes widened in fear. "Are you following me to kill her if--"

Olomuc looked at him, surprised, then sighed and shrugged as Fify snorted again, scaring the horses.

"No, Geral. I only cleared the roads near the city for you. They're too dangerous for a level twenty player, especially when traveling alone. That's why I followed you. Also, I wanted to say goodbye to a friend."

He stood up and put the now empty plate in his inventory.

Geral got up as well, his face red from shame, realizing what he had done. "Wait, wait! Thank you, and... do you really think there's a chance?"

Olomuc smiled and shrugged.

"You'll tell me when we meet again. Take care of yourself and do exactly what she told you. Maybe there is still hope!"

He shook Geral's hand and whistled. Fify stopped playing with the horses and came over with a happy grin on her dragon face.

As they left, Geral's heart was pounding heavily in his chest. Did Anabella plan her resurrection? But how could burning her body on the altar of a temple help with her resurrection?

However, those were the instruction; maybe there was a way?

He turned towards the carriage with new hope in his heart.