The sound of hooves clipping, and clunking created a soothing rhythm to the walk. The windy road was overgrown, showing little use. Trees and vegetation crowded the road on both sides.

We had left Rosedale after a meal that Frank had scavenged up from the wreck of his inn. It was me, Darya, Frank the innkeeper and the smith, Karl. Also, their eldest sons to drive the three open-top wagons that were pulled by mules and a horse.

The wagons were loaded with items that the villagers wanted to sell in town, and hopefully buy food and planting seeds in return. I had bought a couple of minor power crystals from Karl so I would have wands at the ready in case we ran into any trouble along the way.

“What’s the name of this kingdom again?” I asked Darya.

“The Kingdom of Trasal.”

“Ahh, who’s the king?”

“King Montur, the third of house Krolia.”

“And the queen?”

Darya shrugged. “There was for a bit.”

“What happened to her?”

“He chopped her head off.”

I scoffed. “What? The king?”

“Yeah, did it himself. Now he’s looking for a new queen. That’s what happens when you get caught with the stable boy, but that’s just a rumor.”

“So it’s a monarchy of a sort, right?” I asked.

“That’s … right?”

“Where’s the capital?”

“The Ryton, to the west.”

“How far are we talking about?”

“A few days' ride, maybe? I haven’t been that far, you see.”

“Don’t like to travel?”

“No, I’d love to travel. Sadly, I can’t.”

“Why not, who’s stopping you?” I asked.

“I have responsibilities, you know? The orphans, the village, my father. I can’t just abandon them and go off wandering.”

“Right, right. And how many big cities are in this kingdom?”

Darya counted on her finger. “Six … seven if you count Cosford?”

“Are they at war with anyone?”

“No, well- .. they’re always itching to get into it with the bloody Renish, you know? Across the span.”

“The what?”

“The Wide Span, of course.”

“Oh yeah, that.” I had no idea.

“You got a map of the world?”

“The world? There was one at the inn, but it’s not very good. Didn’t you see it?”

“I must have missed it.”

“What’s the geography like around here? I see we got the cube there, a swamp to the north of Rosedale, some forest, hills.”

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“Yeah, pretty much. Mountains to the north, and west. Rivers, lakes, that sort of thing.”

“How religious is everyone here? Amelia is very much into this Great Mother. What’s that about?”

“What do you mean? You don’t worship her where you’re from?”

I smiled. “No, why would I worship Amelia?”

Darya laughed. “No, the Great Mother of course.”

“Uhm, no, should I be?”

“Well, it’s really up to you, I suppose, but- … who do you worship then?”

“Good question. Let me get back to you on that. Also-”

“You’re asking a lot of questions, aren’t ya?”

“How else will I learn about this place?”

“You still haven’t said where you’re from, aside from the Gokroton, of course.”

“The wh- … nevermind. I’m from afar, and want to keep it that way.” Not that I had any choice in the matter. How would I get back to Earth now? How would I un-die? And also un-fuck my monster body too? Did I even want to go back? I left my mom back there. It’s been three days now, so she probably had a funeral already, though I had a feeling there was nothing in the casket but ash, if that.

“Anything I should know about Kittrell before we arrive there?” I asked. “Any special laws, or anything I need to watch out for?”

“Uhm, don’t steal, and … don’t kill?”

“Oh, I think I could manage it easily. They’re not going to look at me strangely, are they? The townsfolk in Kittrell, I mean?”

“Uhm, yeah, about that. Try not to get roped into anything serious, unless of course you want to. Kittrell is a nice town after all, and someone like you would, uhm.. You’ll see.”

“What?”

Darya sighed. “They’ll love to have you around, that’s all.”

“Ahh, that. They’re going to try to take advantage of me.”

“Pretty much. Yup. Just like we are in Rosedale.”

I laughed. “I love your honesty.”

“Hey, it is what it is, there’s no denying it.”

“You’re afraid I’ll see the town, decide to stay and not return to Rosedale. Aren’t you?”

“Would you blame us? We need all the help we can get.”

“It’s tough in Rosedale, and especially right now.”

“It’s never been easy, let me tell ya that. I’d love to take my sister, my father, and all the orphans and move to the city where it’s safer, but we can’t afford that sort of a thing. So, we do with what we got.”

The convoy slowed to a stop. Ahead, I watched a group of men approach us. They weren’t regular bandits, beggars, deserters, or local farmers. They were armed with swords, and wore a mix of armor.

Instinctively, I reached down to the purse at my side. A very thick, and heavy purse filled with over two kilos of pure gold -- 550 gold coins worth. Surprisingly, despite this incredible wealth, my stats weren’t raised even by a single digit.

I moved my hands toward my wands. These men weren’t going to take what’s mine.

***

In the distant lands of Gokroton, a very bored Drakon guard stood outside a vault, yawning. This vault was one of many in the Atreezar Vaults which housed tremendous treasure and wealth spanning many generations of various Drakon clans, noble and royal alike.

He shifted from one leg to another, pondering the meaning of his monotonous life. He was an accountant, not a guard, and wasn’t even trained to fight like so many of his brothers were. And that was likely the reason why he was made to do this mindless chore. It didn’t matter who guarded the gold, insofar as someone was there for every minute of every day of the year.

He didn’t even know how much wealth the vault he was guarding contained, only that it belonged to the Clan of Dereweth. Rumor was that it possessed over a hundred bars of gold, each one thick and heavy.

Down the hall, the steward of the vault was arguing, yet again, with the head of the Dereweth Clan, Wromor the Elder. Their conversations carried well down the massive stone corridors.

“He’s dead.” Wromor said. “My son is dead. It’s been five years and not a word.”

Steward sighed. “Almost, but not quite five years, now is it? It’s another few days.”

“It’s much less than a few days now, isn’t it?”

The steward glanced over the stone carved calendar on the wall, tapping his claw on one of the marks. “Look, it’ll be soon, very soon. Unless word reaches of his safety, at the mark of five years his vault would be relinquished to his clan, just as the law requires. You know this.”

“It pains me,” Wromor said with a heavy voice.

The steward sighed, thinking that the only thing that pained Wromor was that he couldn’t get his grubby claws on his son’s gold. He couldn’t understand the impatience. He had already waited for almost five years, what’s another few days? What was the hurry all of a sudden?

“Alternatively, you could see the High Oracle to confirm his uhm … demise? In which case-”

“Perhaps I should," Wromor said in an angry tone before storming out.