Disceroa, 1st of Budrise, year 179 BN

Path to Valewater

This was not how things were supposed to go. It was easy, a simple trip to Valewater. Not a fight for his life with a group of people that didn't even like him. "Fucking Mitch!" Ben mumbled under his breath as he wiped the blood off his dagger on his trousers. With one smooth motion, he put the dagger away and scanned the area.

Everyone is too busy paying attention to a second group of raiders or soldiers. The sound of the horn is what drew their attention, but he wasn't interested. He's done enough fighting for one day, and risking his life for these people wasn't worth it. It was best to cut his losses here and head back to Disceroa. If Mitch asked him, he'd just say the merchant died out here.

Heck, it wasn't going to be too far off the mark if the situation played out like he imagined it would.

Best to find what was valuable from the wreckage and run with it before anyone noticed.

Ben kicked over bits of wood spying any potential valuables. He wasn't sure what the merchant was carrying, but he had to have something.

"Just my luck!" Ben grinned as he spotted something shiny reflecting the sunlight. It was a golden necklace, probably worth a fortune and underneath it was a scroll. He paused for a second noticing that the bronze box was shattered into pieces, meaning what he was grabbing was inside.

He shrugged, no one would notice if he took an item or two. Besides, no one knew what was in the box, so how would they know he was the one to take these items?

Putting the necklace on he tucked it underneath his shirt and glared at the scroll. Why was this inside the box with the golden necklace? Was it valuable? It had to be, there was no other reason why someone would hide it. He wasn't the best reader, but he could understand a few words here and there. Surely more than enough to make out anything written down.

Unfolding the scroll, he tried to read the contents.

To Edward of Valewater,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. As we move closer to the culmination of our shared endeavor, I must commend you for your unwavering dedication and loyalty. Our plan, should it come to fruition, will reshape the balance of power to the benefit of us both.

As previously discussed, the impending ceremony commemorating the founding of Valewater will provide the perfect cover for our plot. On the evening of the 15th, while celebrations are underway and guards are focused elsewhere, you must arrange for the necessary elements to be in place. Your task is straightforward but vital: you are to ensure that the disposable individuals hired for the task are positioned within the vicinity of Lord Ike’s residence, posing as revelers or merchants. They should be prepared to act swiftly and decisively once the moment arrives.

It is imperative that these individuals believe they are undertaking this task in exchange for a significant reward, as their commitment is crucial for the initial phase of our plan. However, remember that their capture and subsequent execution are essential to lending credibility to the diversion. The staged attempt will provide the perfect cover for our true objective and simultaneously heighten tensions between Valewater and Evergreen, sowing distrust and chaos.

Alongside this letter, I have enclosed a scrying stone. You are to deliver this stone to Lord Ike as a gift, accompanied by an anonymous note suggesting it as a token of goodwill from a secret admirer. The stone will allow us to monitor the proceedings remotely, ensuring that our plan proceeds as intended.

Upon the successful completion of this task, I will fulfill our agreement. The hand of my niece, Angelica, will be yours in marriage, and you shall receive a prestigious position on Thornhill’s city council, along with the promised land. Your future in Thornhill is bright, Edward, provided that you execute this plan with the same precision and discretion you have shown thus far.

Proceed with caution, but rest assured that your efforts will not go unrewarded. Together, we will shape the destiny of our regions.

With sincere regard and anticipation,

Peter II of Thornhill

Confidential Advisor

'Huh?' Ben scratched his cheek, he picked up the ability to read during his time on the road traveling from here to there. He didn't have the best skill, nor did he know every word but he knew enough to fake it to the ladies. A man who could read was something special among the common folk, and it would only elevate his status. When it came to tricking people into doing what he wanted, the ability to read and write came in handy.

However, he had to be reading this wrong. Assassination? Isn't that something huge?

If he delivered this as it should have been, he'd have never known. But, if he was reading it right, or as best he could, there would be an assassination attempt. This was good news, very good news. He could easily gain something from this if he handled it right. No more Mitch, no more Disceroa. He'd be a free man, one potentially with status.

Yes, this was good, very good for him. He had to make sure no one found out, at least no one here in the vicinity. His ears twitched, he could hear footsteps. Someone was coming. Turning around, he saw Richard staring at him, the man noticed the item in his hand.

'Fuck!' Ben screamed in his head. How could he be so stupid to be holding the damn scroll out in the open like this, he should have tucked it away for later. The others were eyeing him too, they'd want him to hand it over. They'd take the scroll and use it like he would. He knew it.

But no, this was all his. He found it, no one else.

"Ben, what does it say?" Richard asked him.

Gazing over he could hear the sound of hooves coming closer. Those men on the hill were descending and would pose as a good distraction. "I'll tell you later, we have more pressing matters to attend to." He told Richard as he motioned towards the descending men on top of their Aurochid's. As he spoke he began tucking the scroll away not trying to draw too much attention to himself.

Richard however wasn't buying it. The man was watching his every move.

'This is mines, I ain't sharing!' He wasn't going to budge on this matter, he did not care who it was. Those men were coming closer, and he noticed Richard and him had some distance between them. As soon as the thought appeared in his head, Ben took off running towards the men.

"Wait, Ben!" Ben could hear Richard's shout, but he was gone. Besides his way with words, the one thing he was confident in was his ability to run. He had to be quick on his feet in case he found himself in sticky situations.

Ben ran towards the approaching men, but as he got closer, he noticed the insignia on their armor—they were soldiers from Disceroa. Clicking his tongue in frustration, he quickly changed direction, heading east. He knew there was a village nearby, and despite the danger of running into more raiders, he figured he could handle it. Besides, there would likely be scraps of food he could grab.

The landscape blurred as he sprinted, his mind racing just as fast. The recent fight had left him exhausted, but adrenaline kept him going. He couldn't afford to slow down now. The thought of getting caught by the Disceroa soldiers or the raiders was enough to spur him forward.

Ben navigated through the terrain, his eyes scanning for any signs of danger. The east was the same direction those raiders had come from, but he knew he could outsmart or outrun them if necessary. He just needed to reach the village and find some food to keep his strength up.

Ben glanced over his shoulder, making sure he wasn't being followed. The soldiers from Disceroa were now far behind, mere specks on the horizon. He had gained enough distance, but he couldn't let his guard down. Not yet.

Ben spotted a cluster of trees in the distance and slowed his pace, looking back one more time to ensure no one was following him. Seeing no pursuit, he headed into the trees, knowing it would be harder for anyone to track him through the dense foliage. They had traveled mostly on open plains, but this was one of the few places from Disceroa to Suncrest where trees were bunched together. It was also close to a village he had visited once before.

As he traveled through the trees, Ben felt a slight sense of relief. The canopy above provided a welcome cover, making him feel more secure. He moved swiftly but cautiously, making his way toward the edge of the tree line. When he approached the edge, he saw trails of smoke rising into the sky.

In the distance, the village came into view. Some homes were burnt, and a few were still burning but almost done. Corpses lined the ground, and debris was scattered everywhere.

The village, or what was left of it, lay before him. The devastation was worse up close. Ben crept along the edge of the trees, his eyes taking in the scene. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the sickening stench of death.

He needed to find food and figure out his next move. Carefully, he made his way towards the remains of the village, keeping low and alert. He stepped over debris and around bodies, his eyes scanning for anything useful.

Among the wreckage, he spotted a small market stall that had been overturned but not entirely burnt. There were some loaves of bread, slightly charred but still edible, and a few pieces of dried meat. He quickly gathered what he could, stuffing the food into his pouch.

Ben paused for a moment, looking around the ruined village. The once bustling place was now a ghost town, its silence only broken by the crackling of dying fires and the distant cries of scavenging birds. He knew he couldn't stay here long. It was only a matter of time before more raiders or soldiers showed up.

Suddenly, Ben heard something snap behind him. He whirled around to find a man in tattered clothing, dirt smeared across his face, holding a pitchfork aimed directly at him. The man was skinny, with barely any muscle on his frame, and looked to be a teen, probably just old enough to be considered an adult.

Ben raised his hands slowly, palms facing outward. "Easy there, kid," he said in a calm, soothing voice. "You don't want to do that."

The young man's eyes flickered to the pouch at Ben's waist, a hint of desperation on his face.

Ben noticed this and decided to play on it, softening his tone further.

"Look, I get it. You're hungry and scared. But that pitchfork won't get you what you need," Ben continued, keeping his voice gentle and persuasive. "I’ve got some food here. How about we share it, and we can both get out of this mess alive?"

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The young man hesitated, the pitchfork trembling slightly in his hands. Ben could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

"You’ve got family, don’t you?" Ben asked, taking a cautious step forward. "They’re probably worried about you. Let’s make sure you get back to them safely. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just trying to survive, same as you."

The young man’s grip on the pitchfork loosened slightly. Ben took another step forward, his eyes never leaving the boy’s face.

"What's your name?" Ben asked gently.

"T-Tom," the young man stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Alright, Tom," Ben said with a reassuring smile. "Let's put the pitchfork down and figure this out together, okay?"

After a tense moment, Tom lowered the pitchfork, his shoulders sagging in relief and exhaustion. Ben slowly approached, keeping his movements deliberate and non-threatening.

"Good choice, Tom," Ben said softly. "Here, let’s sit down and see what we’ve got."

Ben handed a portion of the bread and dried meat to Tom, who accepted it with shaking hands. They sat down amidst the rubble, sharing the meager food in silence. Ben kept a careful eye on Tom, noting the desperation in his eyes and the way he devoured the food.

"So, Tom," Ben began, keeping his tone casual, "what happened here? Where did the raiders come from?"

Tom swallowed hard, glancing around nervously. "They came out of nowhere," he said, his voice trembling. "A group of them, maybe a dozen. They attacked at dawn, set fire to the houses, and killed anyone who resisted. It was chaos."

Ben nodded, encouraging Tom to continue. "Where are they now? Did they leave anyone behind?"

Tom shook his head, his eyes downcast. "Most of them moved on, heading west. But a few stayed behind to loot and gather supplies. I’ve been hiding, trying to avoid them."

Ben processed this information, thinking about his next move. He needed to avoid the remaining raiders and find a safe route out of the village. "Do you know if there’s any safe place nearby? Somewhere we can lay low for a while?"

Tom hesitated, then nodded. "There's an old barn on the outskirts, to the north. It’s hidden by the trees. I used to go there with my friends. It should be safe."

Ben gave a reassuring smile, though his mind was already calculating the next steps. "Good to know. We should head there, get some rest."

As they finished eating, Ben weighed his options. Tom had provided useful information, but keeping him around might be a liability. He didn’t trust the boy completely, and having to watch his back could slow him down.

Tom seemed to sense Ben's hesitation and spoke up. "There's more. They took the women, the young ones, and any children they could find. Chained them up and took them back west where they came from."

"Prisoners?" Ben asked, frowning. "Did they take any supplies?"

Tom's face darkened, and he shuddered. "They took everything. Food, tools, even the livestock. And... they took my sister."

Ben put a hand on Tom's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry, Tom. We'll figure something out."

Tom sniffled and nodded, trying to hold back his tears. "Thank you."

"Alright," Ben said, standing up and brushing off his clothes. "Let's head to that barn. Lead the way."

Tom nodded and got up, leading Ben through the remnants of the village toward the northern outskirts. As they moved, Ben kept an eye out for any signs of the raiders. The village was eerily quiet, with only the occasional crackle of dying fires breaking the silence.

When they reached the edge of the village, Ben saw the barn Tom had mentioned. It was hidden by trees and appeared undisturbed. A good place to lay low, at least for a while.

"Here we are," Tom said, looking relieved. "It should be safe inside."

"Great," Ben replied. "You've been a big help, Tom."

Tom turned to him with a small, hopeful smile, but it quickly faded as Ben drew his dagger. "I'm sorry, Tom, but I can't take any risks."

Before Tom could react, Ben moved swiftly, plunging the dagger into his neck. Tom's eyes widened in shock and pain, but he didn't have the strength to cry out. Ben quickly dragged his body behind the barn, laying it down carefully out of sight. He wiped his dagger clean on Tom's tattered clothing, feeling no remorse.

With Tom taken care of, Ben entered the barn and sat down on a bale of hay to think about his next move. He considered going to Suncrest, but quickly dismissed the idea. It was a bad move considering they were already at war. Valewater was out of the question, too. He'd have to cross Suncrest, and before that happened, he'd be swept up in some nonsense. Evergreen was also a no since that's where Big Oar, Carl, and the others were from and would be going back.

Heatherhill or Espheo seemed like his best options. Two regions he hadn't been to, but anyone with status in the black market or nobility would pay for the information he had. Ben took out the scroll again and tried to read it, but shook his head. There were just too many words he didn't know to make it out to the full extent. But he was positive there was something about an assassination and a lord in there.

He leaned back, considering his options. Heatherhill was known for its merchants and traders, a place where information could be as valuable as gold. Espheo, on the other hand, had a reputation for its underworld dealings and nobility with an appetite for secrets.

Exhaustion suddenly hit him like a wave. He realized he was more tired than he thought. "I can afford to close my eyes for a few minutes," he muttered to himself. Finding a relatively comfortable spot on the hay, he allowed himself to drift off.

When he woke, his heart nearly skipped a beat as he saw the sun was setting, casting long shadows from the top window of the barn. Panic set in as he heard voices outside the barn. Men. He could tell from their tone and volume that they were close. Too close.

He strained his ears and caught snippets of their conversation. They had found Tom's body. Before Ben could move, the barn door creaked open, revealing men in mismatched armor sets. His eyes widened as he recognized the man standing in front. Mikhael.

Mikhael was the leader of a mercenary group, notorious for taking any job as long as the pay was good. He was a rugged, imposing figure with a reputation for ruthlessness. Mikhael's eyes widened in surprise upon seeing Ben.

"Ben? What are you doing here?" Mikhael asked.

Ben quickly composed himself, forcing a grin. "Mikhael, old friend! I could ask you the same question."

Mikhael's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't recall us being friends, Ben. Last I heard, you were in Disceroa. What brings you to this charred ruin?"

Ben thought fast but decided honesty was his best option here. "I was on my way to Valewater when raiders hit the village. I took cover here, waiting for things to calm down."

Mikheal's eyes narrowed at Ben's response. Ben noticed the change in the man's expression and wondered what was wrong.

"To Valewater?" Mikhael repeated. "Why would you go all the way out there? You still owe Mitch a great amount of money."

Ben laughed weakly, trying to hide his anxiety. "Yeah, I do. Always something, right?"

Mikhael wasn't convinced. "And what are you doing way out here, Ben?"

Ben forced a casual tone. "Just trying to get away from it all. Things got a bit too hot in Disceroa. Figured I'd try my luck elsewhere. You?"

Mikhael stared at him for a moment longer before speaking. "We have a job, same as always. My men and I were following some merchant fellow, but when we caught up, the merchant and his men were already fighting. So, we sat back and watched the situation unfold, waiting to make our move. But then, more soldiers came, and in the chaos, one of the merchant's men fled. We've been tracking him ever since."

Mikhael smiled at the end, a knowing glint in his eyes. Ben felt sweat start to slide down his forehead. They were tracking him, and worst of all they found him.

Ben's mind raced. He had to play this carefully. "Tracking one of the merchant's men, huh? Sounds like a wild chase. Did you catch him?"

Mikhael's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Not yet. But we always get our man. And now, here you are, Ben, right in the middle of it all."

Ben swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "Just a coincidence, I swear."

Mikhael's eyes bore into him, and Ben knew the mercenary wasn't buying his story. He had to find a way out of this, and fast.

"Listen, Mikhael," Ben said, trying to sound earnest, "I had no idea you were involved. If I can help, I will. You know me—I’m just trying to survive."

Mikhael's eyes remained cold, but he gave a small nod. "You know how these things go, Ben. No hard feelings, yeah?"

Ben forced a chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, no hard feelings."

Mikhael leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "For me, I'd look the other way for a few bronze tales."

Ben breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he might be able to buy his way out of this mess. "I can manage that."

Mikhael's smile turned predatory. "But I can't. I'm getting paid ten gold tales for this, and that's just half the payment. Can you honestly blame me?"

Ben's relief evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of dread. "Who the fuck is paying you twenty gold tales?"

Mikhael shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Doesn't matter. You'll meet him shortly."

He motioned for his men to move. Ben quickly assessed the situation. There were five men in the barn with Mikhael and more outside. Fighting back was pointless. He was outnumbered.

"Alright, alright," Ben said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "No need to get rough."

Mikhael smirked, clearly enjoying Ben's predicament. "Smart choice, Ben. Now, let's go."

They led Ben out of the barn, the grip on his arms firm but not overly harsh. As they stepped into the fading light, Ben could see the other mercenaries waiting, their eyes watchful and alert.

Mikhael guided him towards the edge of the village, where a makeshift camp had been set up. The firelight flickered, casting eerie shadows on the ground. In the center of the camp, a man sat, dressed in fine clothing.

The man was plump, with a round face that glistened with sweat despite the cool evening air. He wore a deep burgundy doublet, its fabric rich and finely embroidered with gold thread that formed intricate patterns along the seams and edges. The doublet was snug, its buttons straining slightly over his girth. His shirt, visible at the collar and cuffs, was made of white linen, the fabric pristine and crisp.

Draped over his shoulders was a dark green cloak, fastened with a brooch shaped like a roaring lion's head, crafted from polished bronze. The cloak's hem brushed the ground, lined with fur that looked to be from some exotic animal, providing both warmth and a display of wealth. His trousers were made of soft, dark leather, tailored to fit comfortably and tucked into high, polished boots that reached his knees.

A wide leather belt cinched his waist, adorned with a large, ornate buckle that sparkled in the firelight. Hanging from the belt was a small pouch, and a dagger with an intricately carved handle, its sheath inlaid with silver.

The man's fingers were adorned with several rings, each one set with a different precious stone, glinting as he moved his hands. His face was framed by short, well-kept hair, and a thin beard traced his jawline, meticulously groomed.

"Well, well," the man said, his voice smooth and cultured. "What do we have here?"

Mikhael pushed Ben forward. "The runaway. Ben."

Ben tried to keep his fear in check, his mind racing to come up with a plan. "Who are you?"

The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Let's just say I'm someone very interested in you."

The man walked closer, his gaze never leaving Ben's face. "Now, Ben, why would you run? They won the battle, yet you still ran."

Ben's mind raced, searching for a plausible explanation. "They didn't like me. I had no choice if I wanted to survive."

The man raised an eyebrow. "That may be true, but that can't be all there is to it. The only reason someone would run away from a group, especially one traveling with a merchant, is because that person managed to gain something of value." He glared at Ben. "Do you have something valuable?"

Before Ben could answer, the man turned to Mikhael. "Search him."

Mikhael's men stepped forward, roughly patting Ben down. Ben's mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this. But it was too late. One of the mercenaries found the scroll tucked inside Ben's shirt and handed it to the finely dressed man.

"Thank you," the man said, unrolling the scroll.

The man's face darkened as he read the scroll. He clicked his tongue and sighed, frustration etched in his features. Without a word, he took the scroll and tossed it into the campfire, watching it burn.

"One job," he muttered angrily. "He had one fucking job to do, and he couldn't even do it right!"

Ben's mind raced as he watched the man's expression and processed his words. Suddenly, it clicked. His eyes widened as the realization hit him. "You're the man that hired Mitch."

The man's eyes narrowed, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "Very perceptive, Ben. Yes, I am the one who hired Mitch. And now, thanks to his incompetence, I'm left cleaning up his mess."

Mikhael cleared his throat and asked, "What's next? We could still go back for the others."

Peter glared at him. "We should have done that in the first place, but you," he pointed a finger at Mikhael, "said it was a better idea to go for the one that ran away."

"But, Peter—" Mikhael started, but Peter cut him off sharply.

"Now everything has been ruined," Peter snapped, rubbing his temple in frustration. His gaze shifted to Ben, cold and calculating. "I should gut you where you stand and leave your body for the animals. But that would be too easy."

Peter's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "The slave arena has been lacking fighters as of late. I think you'll make a fine addition."

Ben's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to talk his way out of it, "Wait, I can—"

Peter's eyes blazed with fury. "If you say one more word, I'll have your tongue."

Ben clamped his mouth shut. This was not the merchant that came to Mitch asking for help, that man was more subdued and easy to manage. This one, this man was something else.

He couldn't become a slave, that was far worse than death. Especially when he'd be forced to fight to the death for others' entertainment. There was a way out of this, he was sure of it. Ben did not come all this way and live this long to be forced into slavery. That's not how his life was meant to go.

Peter's voice cut through the noise of the camp. "And Mikhael, make sure our guest here doesn't cause any trouble. I want him alive and in one piece when we reach the slave market."