Chapter 63

Orion

Day 47, Day 7 on the Road

Kronfeldt

“Raid@Thornhill.

In 20/30 days

Maybe 400/500 men

Warehouse@ N.Ind dist”

Five hundred men? How in the world could we defend against a force like that with only twenty days to prepare?

After exchanging a flurry of messages with James, I finally had the complete picture. They were planning to send around fifty men, along with James, to a major camp hidden somewhere to the east, near Port Havenreach, where roughly three to four hundred men were waiting. Their intention was to march on Thornhill, which lay directly south—more like south-southwest. This gave us between 20 to 30 days to prepare for their arrival.

There was little time I could sacrifice to anxiety. First, I had to send word back to Thornhill. They needed every precious day to ready their defenses. I wondered if I should go after the ones here at least. Could I manage to take on fifty men? Maybe, if I could pick them off one by one—but they’d send every last soldier after me in the end. I couldn’t waste time in Kronfeldt like that. But before I sent JD off, I needed to confirm it myself.

Midday wasn’t the ideal time for reconnaissance, but the rain and low visibility made it easier to blend in. I drew my cloak close and crept toward the northern district, slipping past the smelters, blacksmiths, charcoal burners, tanners, and renderers. The air lay thick with the stench of iron and smoke. Outside the North Gate, wagons trundled toward processing warehouses.

In my mind’s eye, JD circled above, marking the spot I highlighted. As he hovered near, the connection to his vision sharpened. Near the lake, a lone dock lay apart from the chief port, leading to a wooden warehouse. An unremarkable ship unloaded its goods onto carts, which gnolls and frogmen hauled toward the warehouse. Through JD’s eyes, I saw wolves chained to key positions around the building and crossbowmen stationed at balcony windows and rooftops, their eyes keen for intruders.

Inside the open double doors of the warehouse, wagons were filled with bags of grain, casks, and folded tents. Near the front, two town guards pocketed coins, turning a blind eye to the activity.

A boar-faced creature with tiny nub tusks and brown fur, vaguely resembling James, struggled to tie down a load with rope. He wore a familiar pirate’s cutlass at his side and muttered apologies as a gnoll supervisor berated him, forcing him to try again.

As if sensing my intention, JD took off and returned to me, swooping down to land on my shoulder as I waited behind the walls of a smelter. I reached into my pack for the kebab I saved for JD—a well-earned reward—and then pulled out a piece of parchment and a pencil. Shielding the paper from the rain with my body and cloak, I pressed it against the rough wall and began writing my message. Once done, I secured the note on JD’s leg.

Then I turned to the newly improved kebabs, checking their buffs before we moved out again.

Goose Heart, Muskrat Heart, and Swift Breast Kabob - C

Migration of the Goose: Increases stamina recovery by 30% for 6 hours.

Flight of the Swift: Boosts air movement speed by 30% for 6 hours.

Hide of the Muskrat: Grants a brief shield against rain and water for 6 hours.

“Go to Bianca. You remember her,” I murmured to JD, focusing on an image of her and Thornhill in my mind. As the vision took shape, I shared it with him, sensing his mind latch onto the smokehouse by the beach. “It’s far, but this is important.”

I held out the entire kabob as his reward. He tore into it, feathers ruffling with satisfaction.

“Don’t wait for a reply. Just make sure Bianca gets the message, then come right back.”

JD pecked at me in irritation, as if insulted by the simplicity of the instructions. He wasn’t a fool, and he knew his way around a task. With a flap of his wings, he took off southwest, the new buffs lending him an extra burst of speed as he shot off into the rain-streaked sky.

I stood there, considering my odds. Fifty-seven men. Twelve archers, seven wolves, one Eldrin whose abilities I still couldn’t gauge. And James... He was there too. I couldn’t let him get swept up in this, becoming a casualty in their crossfire. He needed to make it to the main raiding group and keep an eye on them. The thought settled over me like a shadow as I looked toward the horizon, feeling the weight of choices yet to be made.

With a deep breath, I pulled out my Dungeon Gourmand card and studied it.

The Dungeon Gourmand - S

All food you cook no longer damages you, including Dungeon Meat. From now on, any Dungeon Meat will provide a permanent skill card. You can only slot 6 Food Skill cards at once. Any additional cards will require you to either discard the new skill or replace an old one.

Maybe with six new skills, I could wipe them out.

I made my way back to the Hog’s Hollow, The mingled scents of stewed meat and stale ale wafted over me as I pushed through the door. Sliding one Third across the counter, enough to cover a meal and glass of water, I leaned toward the boarman bartender. His tusks caught the dim light as he polished a glass. “Is there a dungeon around here?” I asked.

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound, as if I'd asked something absurd. "Nay. You think they let any commoner into a dungeon?"

The bartender kept chortling as I asked, "Where's the nearest dungeon?"

"The one in the Capital, beneath the Queen’s fortress. Always guarded. The Queen’s particular ‘bout who gets in and out.” the bartender continued to wipe down his counter before serving another patron.

No dungeon, then. That threw a wrench into my plans.

I turned my attention to the meal, determined not to let it go to waste. The meat was tough and full of gristle, but I worked through it, washing down each bite with bitter water. When I’d finished, I left, the weight of the remaining coins in my pocket urging me to spend carefully.

With 4 Seconds and 39 Thirds left, I arrived at Maxby’s. The shop was cluttered but well-stocked, and I picked out a portable bedroll—sturdy, suitable for the road, costing me 1 Second. Then, a few hemp bags and bottles of cheap wine. After some bartering, I handed over 2 Seconds and 10 Thirds. Finally, I grabbed two jars of paint—blue and brown—packed in clay for another 20 Thirds.

With 5 Thirds left, I went to the farmer’s market and bought all the tomato and onion seeds I could find. By the end, I had only 1 Second and 4 Thirds left. My coin pouch felt light, but I doubted I’d need these coins back in Thornhill.

My satchel full, I headed to the White Fox Exchange and Loans to find Sophie. Instead, her representative—the White Fox—directed me to Hanseatic Limited. I gave them the passcode, answering with “New York Yankees.”

The White Fox’s directions drew me back to the dock by the Southern Gate, where memories of my first steps into the city still lingered. Near the Jewelry Store yet cut off from its brightness, the brick warehouse stood plain and unadorned, merging with the weathered stone of the city walls. Its narrow, barred windows offered no glimpse within, making it seem less a building than a silent fort at the edge of the waterfront. The port next to the warehouse was empty, its silence broken only by the gentle creak of a single rowboat tethered to the dock, swaying idly in the murky water.

Outside, I found a lone guard—a slightly overweight badger—dozing on an iron bench, his snores filling the quiet. Inside, Sophie was unmasked, busy offloading tea bags and tea sets into the warehouse, with three former slaves assisting her. She was packing a portable wagon, its interior expanded to the size of a small apartment due to her increase in levels.

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Wulfric and Ulf lifted heavy ingots for her, which she placed into neatly lined bins. Sweat beaded on her face, and she sighed. “I wish I could just hire someone to handle this, but unfortunately, they can’t enter my space.”

“We need to get back to Thornhill as soon as possible,” I said in English, my voice tight. “We’re going to be under attack soon.”

Sophie barely raised an eyebrow. “Already?” she asked, almost casually. “I spoke to the Mercenary Guild, but they’ll need a month to arrange a contract with the Bronze Fists up north. The other guilds are either decimated or contracted by the Duke’s heirs or the Mayor to defend this city and Port Havenreach.”

“That’s why we need to get back right away,” I pressed.

“We’ll go first thing tomorrow,” Sophie decided. “I still need to set my affairs in order here.”

“Right away, Sophie,” I muttered. Even I could hear the petulance in my voice.

“Listen, mister, I can’t just throw away everything I’ve built over the last few days.” She gave me a sharp look. “Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Long-Term? If you want this done faster, grab a crate and help load this wagon.” She gave me a weary smile as if watching me strain was a small pleasure.

We spent the rest of the day packing the wagon—iron ingots, rolls of parchment, linen, and bins filled with socks, trousers, and gloves. Two heavy crates of bolts and arrows clattered onto the floor before we lifted them in place, followed by ten crossbows and ten bows stacked neatly on the racks. Sophie, with a surprising ease, slid each bin into position along the rollers, her strength quiet but certain, a gift of her class, no doubt.

“Just ten crossbows and bows?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.

“It’s as much as I could manage on such short notice without drawing attention. We have plenty of craftspeople back in Thornhill; they can make better weapons than these.” Sophie’s tone was brisk. “This gear is only for emergencies.”

“I hope you’re right,” I muttered.

“Why don’t you and James finish whatever you need to tonight? Tomorrow, bright and early, we’ll head back to Thornhill.”

“James isn’t coming.”

She raised an eyebrow, a trace of a pout forming. "Oh? And why does he get to stay behind while I’m dragged back to the sticks?"

"You have the Portable Wagon, Sophie. James is on a spy mission. We can’t deliver these goods to Thornhill without you," I said, my tone firm.

Sophie shrugged, a smirk playing at her lips. "Sometimes these classes feel like chains around our necks, don’t they, Orion?"

I didn’t argue—no sense in fighting the hand we’d been dealt.

"Alright," she continued, turning to the group. "Wulfric, Ulf, Edith—you’ll head to the stables and get familiar with your mounts. Wulfric and Edith, you’ll ride James’s elk; Ulf, you’re with Orion. My horse won’t support both of you," she added with a playful glance. "If there’s anything else you need to handle before we leave, now’s the time."

She turned to go, heading off to wrap up her business. The three former slaves looked at me expectantly, so I made my way back to my food stall.

The evening brought a rush of diners as the rain finally let up, and a line gathered outside. After serving the former slaves hamburgers—an unexpected delight that left them wide-eyed, marveling at the taste like it was a slice of the heaven they’d dreamed of—I said my farewells to Slink, Fleetpaw, and young Nax.

Slink frowned. “What should I do about Hadrelian’s men?”

“Just pay them.” I handed him the last of my coins. “Keep the place in shape while I’m away. You won’t need to pay me daily anymore.”

“That’s... generous, Lord Clark,” Slink said, a bit stunned.

“And where will you go, Lord Clark?” Nax piped up, his curiosity brightening his voice.

“Just some business near the outskirts. Look after yourself, Nax.” I ruffled his hair, thinking of the hardship he and Fleetpaw faced at home. One day, I’d find a way to ease their troubles—after I’d managed to fix my own.

The four of us—the three former slaves and I—made our way through the damp streets to the Ironhoof Stables. There, we ran into a bit of trouble. Without Sophie’s contract, the stablemaster refused to release the elk. He was a stern but gentle badgerman and, after a moment’s thought, allowed us to feed the animals while we waited. I watched Wulfric approach Comet, the elk that James favored. My own mount had grown since I’d last seen him—his coat shone, his hooves were scrubbed clean, and his eyes held a lively glint. The stablemaster had cared for him well. When I stepped closer, Rudolph nudged me with his muzzle, nostrils flaring as if to confirm it was truly me.

An hour passed before Sophie arrived, the Contract at last in her hands. After setting things right with the stablemaster, we led the elk from their stalls. Wulfric, moving with a hint of uncertainty, began saddling Comet, James’ mount.

“Do you know how to ride, Wulfric?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Horses, yes, but I can’t say I’ve ever ridden one like this, milord,” Wulfric admitted, glancing at Comet with a mix of respect and apprehension.

Before I could respond, Edith climbed onto Comet’s back, her arms wrapping around Wulfric’s waist. Comet, docile, twisted his neck and shook his head as if trying to dislodge an annoying flea before slowly moving onward.

Sophie let out a soft sigh, a hint of melancholy creeping into her voice. “I wish there was a faster way to travel from city to city.”

“Aren’t you excited? We’re finally going back home,” I replied, though the shadow of danger looming ahead lingered in my mind. The thought of Thornhill, however, ignited a flicker of anticipation.

“Of course, but it’s still a drag. We need to build a railway here someday.” Sophie mused, her eyes sparkling with the prospect.

After an hour of getting Comet accustomed to the weight of Wulfric and Edith in the saddle, we finally returned him to the stable and made our way back to the inn. The day’s events weighed heavily on me, and exhaustion tugged at my limbs. The moment my head hit the pillow, I surrendered to sleep, grateful for the brief reprieve it promised.

In the morning, we returned to the stables and finally set out from the city: Ulf and I rode Rudolph, while Sophie took Olive, and Wulfric and Edith settled onto Comet.

As we traveled southward, workers cleared the newly constructed roads, which stretched just a mile before giving way to dirt tracks once more. Approaching the outskirts of Kronfeldt, Sophie cast a long, wistful glance back at the town. She nudged Olive to catch up, her horse falling into step beside mine. Removing her mask, she flashed me a small, genuine smile.

“Be honest, Orion. You enjoyed our little vacation, didn’t you?” Her voice was light but held an undercurrent of curiosity.

“Aside from constantly watching my back for slavers and pickpockets, it could have gone a lot worse.”

Sophie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “When this storm blows over, why don’t we have an adventure? Travel the world and discover more strange places like this. We could build banks and McOrion's on every corner.” Her words lingered in the air, tempting and soft.

I felt my face flush at the intimacy of her suggestion. It almost sounded like a proposal, but I knew better. Sophie wasn’t the settling type—she needed someone to watch her back, not someone to love. As I reflected on her behavior, it struck me how differently she treated James and me. She viewed James as one of her adoring fans, someone she likely had some contempt for, while I was just a pawn to be kept under her heel. The moment I acted the same or became inconvenient, I knew she’d toss me aside. Or maybe it was all just a game to her; it’s not like I had a great grasp of what women wanted.

“Thornhill’s my home, Sophie. My brother’s there, my friends…everyone’s there. We need to protect them,” I replied.

“Thornhill will be fine,” she said, a hint of sadness in her tone. “They’ve got Alex and Cade, who are much stronger than you, and soon they’ll have mercenaries guarding the outskirts with money earned from their exports. Our gold protects better than you riding off to fight armies alone.” She leaned in closer, her eyes searching mine. “Be honest with me. What would you do if Cass wasn’t there? No obligations, no ties. Haven’t you ever wanted to do something for yourself?”

Her question hung in the air, forcing me to confront the thoughts I often pushed aside. I opened my mouth to respond, but the weight of her attention made me hesitate.

I shook my head, sighing. “I don’t care for hypotheticals. Cass is there. He’s the only family I have left. Everything I care about is in Thornhill.”

My look lingered on her, studying her before I continued.

“I know you want to travel the world, but isn’t Thornhill your home, too? Aren’t we important to you, Sophie?”

For a fleeting moment, her expression faltered. I saw a hint of vulnerability beneath her usual confidence, but just as quickly, she waved it away. “Thornhill’s my home. I’ll always need a place to plant my roots. But you know me… I love to travel. I’ll grow, and so will the village, if I connect with other places. I want to see everything this world has to offer.”

Her eyes searched mine, revealing the conflict within her. She wanted to be free, to explore, yet a part of her seemed tethered to my safety. “But still,” she added softly, “I want you to do something.”

“Like what?” I asked, sensing the shift in her tone.

“Just be careful, Orion. I’d hate to see you do something reckless, like taking on this army by yourself.”

“Since when have you been worried about my safety?” I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden concern.

“I know you're strong, but the fortuneteller—”

“Stop right there,” I interrupted, my harshness sharper than intended.

“But Orion…” she pressed, her eyes pleading.

“I’m not going to let some reading dictate my actions. It’ll just cause me to doubt myself every time I have to act. Besides, I’m always careful,” I insisted.

She met my gaze, her expression softening. “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.”

“I appreciate it, but I can handle myself.”

She slowed her elk to a canter while I pressed ahead, the silence between us heavy with all the words left unspoken. Despite riding toward the same destination, our mounts slowly drifted apart.