At Ansure’s camp, straddling the riverbank, a flurry of activity split the afternoon air. Horses thundered northwest while laden wagons lumbered in the opposite direction, their movements painting the sky with swirling clouds of dust.
On one flank, Ansure’s main contingent departed with the wagons—borrowed until that morning by the Eternal Village—while three mounted figures broke away, heading back toward the village.
After spending days managing Ansure’s wagons, Jonn, and Petyr had returned to retrieve Asher, who had remained behind with Ansure’s men as collateral for the borrowed vehicles.
The exchange proceeded smoothly in the mid-afternoon sun. With formalities concluded, Asher mounted one of the horses his companions had brought, falling into stride beside them as they peppered him with questions about his extended stay.
Asher had no grievances to voice. Though Ansure’s subordinates maintained a professional distance, neither particularly warm nor celebratory, they had imposed no undue demands. He’d received no free ride—the group rarely shared their provisions and daily assigned him tasks. He’d tackled these duties willingly, using them both as distraction and opportunity to gather intelligence about their temporary hosts.
Despite his efforts, Asher gleaned little useful intelligence about the Nation of Thalassia. Ansure’s men, as guarded as Asher himself, zealously protected information about their origins, mirroring Asher’s own discretion regarding the Eternal Village.
“That’s for the best,” Jonn remarked after absorbing Asher’s report. “It would have been problematic if they’d been overly forthcoming, only to demand equal disclosure from you.”
“What about the village?” the blond man to Jonn’s right inquired. “How have things fared in my absence?”
Petyr, his gaze fixed on the horizon—a canvas of ebony earth meeting the fading azure of dusk—responded, “Nothing extraordinary transpired. However, construction on the village’s eastern flank has progressed markedly. With our newly acquired materials, we can finally speed up development in that sector.”
“That’s heartening,” Asher said, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. “Now that we’ve settled matters, we can expect a few months of tranquility, right?”
With Yeoman Ferry’s threats neutralized and the next substantial harvest a distant prospect, Asher yearned for a period of calm for the entire village.
“Perhaps… or perhaps not,” Jonn reluctantly deflated his villager’s optimism. “Don’t disregard the creatures to the west. And let’s not forget the Lost Treasures group that wiped out Sarre’s team. We have no assurance they won’t set their sights on us in the future.”
“True enough. Those challenges persist…” Asher conceded, his earlier buoyancy dimming as he recalled their lingering threats.
“But we’re growing stronger,” Petyr interjected, his tone uncharacteristically optimistic. “Since resolving our food crisis, our guards have demonstrated remarkable improvements in both strength and combat prowess.”
Jonn absorbed his guard leader’s observation, his mind flitting to recent assessments of his own.
The training regimen with Count Francus’ enchanted weapons is yielding results beyond my initial projections, Jonn mused. At this rate, we may soon be able to entrust some guards with genuine magical items, not just for practice, but for actual combat scenarios.
While this wouldn’t equate to transforming villagers into full-fledged mages, it represented a significant power boost. Much like the fake mage who had coveted their Aether Tears, any ordinary mortal capable of wielding an enchanted item could elevate themselves considerably above those without mana cultivation.
Sensing the winds of fortune, however fickle, blowing in his village’s favor—even amidst their myriad challenges—Jonn allowed a smile to grace his features. He adjusted Windy’s reins, urging her towards home.
“Let’s make haste,” he proposed. “I’d like to return in time for the evening meal.”
His companions nodded in agreement, spurring their mounts to a brisker pace.
The trio rode atop level 1 beasts, creatures capable of outpacing and outlasting ordinary horses by a significant margin. As they thundered across the landscape, the riders felt the rush of air against their bodies, their hearts pounding with a mixture of exertion and excitement.
The sheer thrill of this high-speed journey was infectious. Even Petyr, usually measured and serious, found himself unable to suppress a smile of pure enjoyment.
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Hours melted away, and night descended upon the Barren Hills of Deepshadow.
Darkness blanketed the sky, bringing with it a rapid and dramatic drop in temperature.
The stark transition was a hallmark of this region, where the absence of large water bodies and vegetation led to extreme temperature fluctuations.
Despite being in the midst of spring, the nighttime chill in the Barren Hills rivaled that of winter in more temperate zones. The three travelers, well-versed in the area’s climatic quirks, had come prepared. They were bundled in winter attire, warding off the biting cold as they entered the last stretch of their journey back to the village.
Their mounts, though exceptional, were nearing the limits of their endurance. The group had pushed hard, covering an impressive distance, but a rest stop for the horses was becoming inevitable. As they approached, the familiar landmarks that signaled the last 30% of their trek, the encroaching darkness heightened their senses.
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It was this awareness that allowed them to notice something out of the ordinary. In the distance, where the inky blackness of night should have reigned supreme, there was an anomaly—a faint glow that shouldn’t have been there.
“Something’s off about that part of the horizon,” Asher said, pointing north. He could see a faint glow in the distance, standing out against the usual pitch-black darkness of the area.
Petyr and Jonn looked where Asher was pointing, their faces scrunching up in recognition. There was definitely something there—it looked like people were lighting up the area with torches or something similar.
“Enemies?” Petyr whispered, voicing his concern.
“Could be,” Jonn replied as he slowed Windy down, instinctively changing their course towards the light.
Asher and Petyr followed suit, trusting their leader’s decision without question.
“Let’s take it slow and be careful,” Jonn said, gripping his spear. “They might be enemies heading for our village, or just travelers passing through.”
They pressed on, covering the 2.5 miles that separated them from the light source. After crossing a small hill, they finally spotted the camp ahead.
Seven carriages were arranged in a circle, with only seven horses visible. Inside the ring, campfires flickered, and many sleeping bags revealed the presence of over 20 people.
Only four people stood guard on the camp’s outskirts, tipping off the three Eternal Village members that these weren’t warriors.
It wasn’t just their numbers or the amateur way they’d set up their defenses; it was also how they held their weapons, their underdeveloped bodies, and their lack of a typical warrior’s posture.
A seasoned fighter would naturally have strong, toned muscles, even if not bulky. They’d stand tall and know how to handle their weapons properly. But these guards had none of these traits. What’s more, they seemed oblivious to their surroundings.
Even after a full minute of riding within sight of one of the guards, the trio hadn’t been spotted. The guard failed to raise the alarm, while the rest of the group seemed to be in the middle of a meal.
Men and women huddled around the fires lighting up the area, nibbling on what little meat remained in their rations.
Finally, one of the men noticed Jonn’s group approaching and shouted a warning, catching everyone’s attention.
Men scrambled to their feet, eyeing the incoming threat, while women huddled with the younger ones. They cowered in fear, worried that their pursuers had come to drag them back to the place they’d fled.
Among the most terrified was a young man with a shaved head. His eyes were bright but barely noticeable amid his ragged clothes and disguising haircut.
‘Could those be Count Javis’s ruthless men?’ he wondered, clutching his arm in horror.
Jonn slowed Windy to a halt, studying the group intently. The terror in their eyes and their frail, undernourished bodies told him almost everything he needed to know.
More victims of our brutal world…
Asher and Petyr came to the same realization, loosening their grip on their weapons but remaining alert.
“Who are you? What brings you to a place like this?” Jonn asked.
He had initially approached ready to fight off potential interlopers, but seeing the group’s dire situation, he was inclined to continue on to the village. Still, he couldn’t leave without at least questioning them.
The people huddled together, cornered by these well-built, armed men on horses so massive that their own animals looked like decrepit old nags in comparison. Fear kept them silent, unable to speak or even plead their case.
Jonn waited. After nearly a minute, his patience was rewarded. “We’re homeless, seeking shelter,” said a middle-aged man, who Jonn pegged as a farmer. “Our former lord has fallen, noble warrior. We’re free now, but freedom is harsher than we ever imagined.”
Surviving without support in a crumbling world was no easy task. This group had experienced hunger like never before. Even those who had once been confident and eager for their masters’ downfall now regretted their naive wishes for freedom.
“We’ve come from Eldoria,” a woman spoke up, drawing stares from both the trio of knights and her own companions. “We tried our luck in the Nation of Thalassia, but found nothing after days of travel. So we decided to head north. Eventually, we hoped to reach Sylvestria. Unfortunately, we didn’t realize the journey would be so long.”
Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes as she glanced at the horses, mourning the animals her group had been forced to slaughter to stave off their growing hunger.
“A group without direction?” Asher murmured, catching the attention of Jonn and Petyr.
“Are you suggesting…” Petyr looked pointedly at his cousin, grasping the implication of Asher’s question.
“It’s a large group to bring to the village. Controlling them won’t be easy,” Jonn said, understanding Asher’s thoughts and Petyr’s concerns. “But I ask you, can we really ignore them?”
Asher didn’t quite grasp Jonn’s point, but Petyr did. He recalled the recent village Council meeting that Asher had missed while with Ansure’s group. With two new sheep and four new silkworms in the village, the workload for the animal and crop caretakers would increase. Meanwhile, the village’s expanding area required more maintenance and vigilance.
By the next harvest, things would become complicated if they didn’t increase their numbers.
“Maybe we should only take a few of them,” Petyr suggested, knowing they couldn’t refuse help entirely, but wary of dealing with such a large group.
“No, we have to accept them all,” Jonn said, his mind made up. “But we can split them up, as you suggested. We could send some to the fishing station on East Lake. That way, we’ll have a smaller group in the village. We’ll finalize the details with the council tomorrow. For now, let’s head back to the village.”
With that, Jonn dismounted, leaving his spear by Windy’s side. He approached the group with his hands raised in a peace gesture.
“Fellow travelers, don’t be afraid. I mean you no harm,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “I’m from a village not far from here. We have room for hardworking people willing to contribute alongside us. If you’d like to join us, I’m here to guide you.” His words were eloquent, his [Charisma] working to win over the wary group.
Human nature could make people shrink from such an invitation out of fear. But these people were desperate for a new leader to welcome them, to show them the way forward. They yearned for someone to look after their needs.
Jonn’s invitation was tempting, despite the lingering fear in their hearts.
Sensing their inner conflict, Jonn pressed on, highlighting the advantages they would have in the Eternal Village.
“If you come with us, you’ll have a safe place to sleep at night. You’ll have work to keep your minds occupied, and you won’t need to worry about fighting unless you choose to learn. Most importantly, you’ll have hot, fresh meals at least twice a day to keep you nourished.
“Join us in our village. Together, we’ll survive this harsh world!”
Jonn’s entire speech was compelling, but it was the promise of regular meals that truly resonated with the group.
Gradually, one by one, the wary travelers began to trust these three strangers.
In their minds, it was better to take a chance on these people than to press on into uncertainty and risk death in a matter of weeks.
Better to potentially fall into the hands of someone who might enslave them than to starve to death in the bleak, desolate Barren Hills of Deepshadow!