The merchant that would bring Uzca south arrived in the village the following day. Uzca went with his father to negotiate a fair rate for travel to Donarin, the nearest town that was technically out of the mountain range and part of the lowlands. The merchant liked the people of the mountains and made a deal where Renza bought half of the scrap metal he had been lugging around, and Uzca would be given a ride down to the lowlands village.

"Very good. Thanks for your custom, Renza. It's always a pleasure. Uzca, was it? I'm going to be selling for a few hours. Depending on how it goes, I might stay until tomorrow morning, or we might leave this afternoon. You should be ready to go either way! I won't wait around too long for you, but I will swing by the smithy before I leave."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate the ride. I won't be late."

"Good. Now if you're not buying anything else, get lost, you'll scare away the customers."

Uzca spent the next three hours with his father going over everything he could possibly need for his journey.

"It's a long trip, son. You're headed to Telestria, at the very least. That's your mother's hometown, you know. Once you leave the peaks and mountains, it's on the other side of the province. Your mother said the journey took weeks with a horse and carriage. I imagine you'll be on foot for a fair part of it. Then there's all the trouble you'll get in."

"Yes, yes, I get it, Pa. You want me to be prepared. I still can't take fifty pounds of cured meat with me. I need other things!"

"That's what the second pack is for!"

"How am I supposed to carry two packs!?"

"Hmm. I might be overdoing it."

His father had loaded up two packs with so much stuff that Uzca could barely lift them. They were propped against a cabinet while an assortment of other supplies Renza wanted to cram inside were strewn about nearby. Uzca guessed it was half of everything they owned.

"I think it's probably safe to leave the full set of cookware behind. What would I even cook? You packed me travel rations!"

"You might hunt something and want to cook it up!"

"Pa, I've never hunted in my entire life."

"Really? I've never taken you?"

"When have you been hunting?"

"Hmm, maybe that was before you were born."

Uzca threw his hands up in the air.

Eventually, they narrowed it down to the essentials. Uzca grudgingly agreed to a single small pot in case he needed to cook something or, more likely, boil water that he needed to be sure was clean. He had travel rations for a few weeks and would eventually need more, but he'd pass through several towns on the way. His father gave him a twenty-year-old map that was probably outdated but had their approximate location and Telestria on it. He could manage with that since he'd mostly likely be asking for directions along the way anyway. He'd update his map, or buy a new one if the opportunity presented itself.

He also packed a knife, flint, some thin rope his father had insisted on, a canteen, a sword—which he had never used outside simple checks for balance at the forge—a bed roll, and last but not least, a cloak. He had no doubt his father filled the other exterior pockets of the pack with an assortment of things Renza thought he might need but did want to argue about.

"I think this is it."

The two shared a look, and Uzca knew it was time to go. When the merchant's wagon pulled up, there were fewer tears than Uzca had assumed. His father just smiled at him. "Have fun, son. If you find your mom...tell her I'm sorry and that I love her, no matter what."

"I will, Pa. Take care of yourself."

They shared one last hug and a few more personal words. The merchant looked bored, but he didn't interrupt.

When Uzca set his pack in the back of the cart and climbed up front with the driver, they departed. A fair number of people had come out to wish him well. A familiar man flagged them down when they rounded the village and neared the entrance.

"Uzca! You wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to your favorite Uncle, would you?"

"Of course not, Uncle Menza," he said with a smile, hopping down to hug the man.

"Good luck in the lowlands. You show them what it means to come from the mountains — to be a highlander. We're good folk. Show them that. Make sure you come back too. We don't want to lose you to the lowlanders!"

"I'll do my best, Uncle."

They ended the exchange with a wave, and the merchant was happy to get out of town without any more delays. The pair of horses that pulled the heavily laden cart moved them at a steady rate, and within a few hours of quietly enjoying the ride, they were farther away from the village than he had ever traveled.

"We'll stop to eat soon, but we have a couple of hours of daylight, so we'll press on after that. Old Messy doesn't like it when her meal is late."

The horse on the right whinnied as if to confirm the statement.

"Great. How far is it to Donarin?"

"Oh, we'll make it a decent way today and could probably make it late tomorrow, but I don't like arriving at a town in the evening. Wares sell better when a new merchant rolls into town in the morning, you see. I become the talk of the town, so everyone has to stop by."

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Uzca wouldn't have thought about it. He knew about smithing, and he knew a few things about wrestling. Outside those things, he had precious little knowledge of other professions and the tricks of various trades. His father had never really taught him about the art of trading, as he typically managed orders and contracts himself.

When they stopped for food, they ate travel rations and didn't bother with a fire or anything. Uzca finished his food and got up to stretch his legs, and the merchant, Warren, grabbed a pair of bags filled with oats from under the driver's seat and strapped them to the horses. Uzca walked around for a handful of minutes and was about to return up front when a noise from the back of the wagon grabbed his attention.

The wagon was a flat bucket with a large tarp spread over the top of the mound of goods inside. It was less organized and harder to manage, but it saved on the extra weight versus something like a full merchant stand wagon. Uzca had seen a few of those stop in town, and the merchants could retrieve nearly anything through a series of doors set into the outside — organized but heavy.

When he rounded the back, he didn't find anything amiss. The trees on this part of the mountain were still too sparse to hide anything substantial. He was about to check the back of the wagon when Warren called him back up.

"Quick dawdling back there! Time to go!"

He hurried up to the front and carried on. A couple of hours later, they pulled to a stop at a safe enough looking clearing on the side of the rough dirt road.

"We'll want a fire. Be quick while you still have light and gather up some wood."

Uzca knew the wood would likely be somewhat wet this time of year, but he wouldn't be his father's son if he couldn't start a fire with a bit of damp wood. He ran off.

Not too far from the wagon, making a circle and picking up kindling first, Uzca heard a yell of surprise.

"Who the hell are you!?"

He rushed back and found the merchant at the back of the wagon with the tarp pulled back and a slightly embarrassed Bezben sitting in the back of the wagon, crammed in between a mountain of goods and the wooden sidewall.

"I knew I heard something earlier! Bezben, what are you doing!?"

"You know this one?"

"He's my cousin."

"I couldn't let you leave alone! Besides, I want to see the world too!"

"Your family is probably worried sick, Bez!"

The boy shrugged. "I left a note. Hidden just well enough so they wouldn't see it until we were well away, but they'll find it."

"No. We have to take you back, Bezben."

Warren cleared his throat. "Now, I'm not any more a fan of stowaways as the next merchant or caravan, but even if I had an extra day to bring your cousin back, which I don't, the horses wouldn't be able to make the journey. Uphill is a lot harder than down, and this trail is steeper than the one I take up into the peaks. I'm not looking to lose my horses."

He had been talking to Uzca, but he turned to face the boy with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Bezben schooled his expression when he saw the ice in the merchant's eyes.

"You, on the other hand, are in trouble, boy. I have every right to turn you in to the law in Donarin. Do you have the coin to pay for passage? If not, you're going to either need to work off the debt or find out how comfortable a cell is."

Uzca thought that was harsh, but the man was a merchant. He would be getting his money's worth for the inconvenience. Bezben could stand to learn a lesson.

"I have coin! How much?" Bezben said quickly. Too quickly.

A gleam entered Warren's eyes. An easy mark.

"Hmm. I don't see a pack. You have enough for a ride and supplies, hmm? Let me see."

Like the idiot he was, Bezben tried to hand over his entire coin purse. As he pulled it off his belt, the hefty clink let Uzca know it was full of coins. Normally, Uzca would leave his cousin out to dry, but if he were going to be traveling with him—which seemed like his only option outside walking back up the mountain—the boy would need his coins.

As the coin purse was released, Uzca deftly reached a hand in to catch it. "While I'm sure my cousin is very sorry for not being forthcoming, I'm also sure he meant no harm. Please, allow me to negotiate on his behalf. A ride would be what, around two marks?" Uzca pulled out a single gold coin. They had different money than the lowlanders, but to his surprise, when he learned this fact, their coins were worth more. The raw materials made them worth many merchants' trips into the mountains.

"For your inconvenience, and a pack of supplies, I'm going to guess around...four marks?" he pulled out two more coins equaling four marks, six marks total. It was an outrageous sum for a ride one town over and a pack of supplies. He was using the most valuable coin in Bezben's pouch, and he only had a few more, but it would save him from being robbed completely blind.

The merchant, for his part, didn't seem mad about losing the chance to fleece the young man. Instead, he looked happy and eager to take the deal. Uzca's instincts told him to lower his offer, but he was the one to make the offer. He wouldn't go back on what he said. The merchant on the other hand had no qualms about asking for a little more, but Uzca held firm, and the merchant took the coins and smiled at him.

"You learned to barter from your father, I see. He too knows when to haggle and when to build a bond between merchant and shop. Keep your wits about you in the lowlands and you'll do fine."

Then he turned back on Bezben, "You, on the other hand, should be glad your cousin was here. First, learn some decency and respect. Next, learn how to deal with others. We can get your traveling pack together when we get to Donarin."

With the dealing complete, the merchant returned to pulling out tent equipment and setting it up.

"Come on, dummy. We need to gather firewood."

Bezben was still a little flushed with embarrassment and took his coin purse back silently. He followed Uzca into the trees, and they collected the wood in silence. They were still gathered around the fire a while later when the merchant decided to call it a night and head into his tent. He left the two of them to sort out a watch for most of the night. They would need to tend the fire, as it would do most of the work keeping unwanted wild animals away.

Uzca volunteered to take the first watch as he hated waking up in the middle of the night. Bezben didn't immediately go to his own bedroll, provided by Warren.

"Why did you really come, Bez?" he asked. He was mostly curious. Sure, he didn't want his cousin along, but he couldn't send the boy back. He wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man and could make his own decisions. Uzca would make the best of it, which meant knowing his cousin's goals if he had even thought that far ahead.

Bezben scowled, staring into the crackling, dancing flames.

"It's not fair, you know? Ever since I was a little kid, it's been 'protect the village' this and 'lead the village' that. My pa has never asked me what I wanted to do. He just assumes I'm going to follow him. But then you get to leave your trade and pa behind while I'm still stuck. I know you're going to try to find Aunt Freyen and Frenza, but...I don't know. I wanted to have an adventure too."

Uzca studied his younger cousin. Like all of their line, he was well-built. He was a little taller than Uzca, if not as big. He had brown hair that reminded Uzca that his own hair was now a little odd. Bezben was a man now. He had a gift and was grown enough to make his own decisions. Man or boy, Uzca needed to make sure Bezben knew all the risks.

"It's going to be dangerous, more likely than not. Father said there would be dangerous roads, and people won't always treat us mountain folk with respect. So if I bring you along, you need to keep a level head and do what I say."

"I'm not a child, Uzca. I can handle it."

"You ran away from home and left a note behind, Bez. You should probably give it a few weeks before claiming you aren't a child."

Bezben rolled his eyes, but he nodded to Uzca. "Okay. I'll listen to you. Thanks for arranging my travel with the merchant. I was just nervous."

"Sure, Bez. Alright, go get some sleep. I don't imagine you got any decent rest in the back of that bumpy wagon."

"No. No, I did not."