Victor continued down the muddy trail. He had walked up this very road recently, with the rest of the Legion, but now he was a lone figure, with no others in sight. ‘Finally’, he thought, ‘peace and quiet. No busy bodies rushing around, no group of mages I have to deal with. Not even a stray soldier bombarding me with ridiculous questions’. He snorted at the idea, remembering several soldiers who had seemed keen to throw fire from their hands, only to be turned away by the years of study and work required. Honestly, the amount of people who think you can just wave your hands and suddenly turn a man into a frog is far too many.
“Huh,” he spoke to himself, outloud. “Now how would I actually go about doing that?” Lost in his musings, he paused for a moment to kick a pebble out of his shoe, and when he looked back up towards the road, there was a figure standing in front of him. Several figures actually, all of them clothed in shoddy green cloaks and, as Victor noticed with a start, armed with an assortment of slightly rusted spears and shortswords.
“Well,” one of the figures said, stepping forwards, “I wouldn’t go about doin’ much in your shoes, right about now.” The woman spoke in a high-pitched lilt. She was several inches taller than the others around her, and despite the rank smell coming from the group, Victor could pick out just a hint of perfume. “Now then, no sudden moves, drop ya satchel to the ground, and we’ll see about lightening the load on ye, hmm?”
Victor, seeing how close they were, eyed his spellbook before slowly unclasping the satchel sitting over his shoulder. It hit the ground with a heavy thump and he spoke calmly “Alright, there’s no need to speak in obtuse ways, I understand what’s happening here.” He raised his arms slightly in a placating way, before continuing, “If it would convince you to let me keep my things, I could tell you the way to an army stash not far from here.”
Stepping forwards and raising her sword to point directly at his face, the woman who seemed to be in charge replied, “And what, ‘sactly, would an army need with a stash?”
“Well,” Victor started, “the Marquis wasn’t convinced the Muldish army would just sit and let the fort nearby get sacked, so he wanted to set up an emergency fund, so to speak. I know, because it was me and a few other mages who put it together and camouflaged it.” The bandit looked back at the others, who were muttering amongst each other, before looking back at the leader, and several of them gave tentative nods, with the others simply looking suspicious. Victor, for his part, was struggling to hold back his distaste for the whole situation.
“Very well then, tell us where it is,” the woman sheathed her sword, before pointing a finger directly at Victor, “An’ no funny business, yeah? Don’t even try ta touch that book of yours. I know how you wizards can be.”
“No funny business, got it,” Victor replied before very slowly crouching. The bandits rustled, several of them moving their hands to the hilts of their weapons, but Victor turned away from the satchel, and very carefully placed his leg on top of it as he kneeled in the muddy ground. Cursed bandits getting my pants wet now. Not to mention the robes. Victor picked up a stick nearby and started sketching in the dirt.
“First”—He used the stick to curve a long line up and to the left of the starting point, with the curve on the left side of the line—“if you go down that road,” Victor pointed back down the road, “it’s got a bit of a curve to it. As it stops curving, there's a path,” The mage then drew another curved line from the end of the first line, curved down and to the left, also with the curve to the left, “that splits off from the main road. It’s more of a trail, though, so you’ll have to cross a fallen tree about right here.” At the end of the line, he made another short straight line, this one pointing a bit down and to the right of the end of the last line.
“Wait a second,” One of the bandits spoke up, clearly confused, “I don't remember a path in those woods. An’ couldn’t we just move through—” Victor immediately scratched a short arc at the end of the line, with the arc ending to the upper right of where it started. Surprised by his sudden movements, a few of the bandits started to draw weapons. They were far too slow. Victor raised his hand, sitting on his knees with a straight back, a calm expression on his face. Using the freshly carved sigil in the dirt, a blast of air burst out from in front of him, sending the bandits flying back into the treeline. Scrambling, Victor grabbed his satchel and ran down the road.[https://i.imgur.com/qIBgZRH.png]
Several miles down the road, a squirrel sat atop a branch, staring down at the strange two legged predator. It had stopped its running and leaned against the tree below it, which the squirrel found quite rude. It really should find its own tree, the squirrel was here first. Curious, and slightly annoyed, the squirrel climbed down a bit to get a better look. The tall creature had stopped leaning against the tree, thankfully, and was now sticking its forelimbs in the skin-pouch that hung at its side. It rustled around in there, and seemed to be getting more and more annoyed. Its thick fur seemed to get more and more rustled as it did so, bunching up in places and looking quite ridiculous. The squirrel wasn’t sure what there was to be annoyed about, the skin-pouch was quite intact and clearly full of things. Maybe there weren’t as many things in there as there should be? The squirrel felt quite pleased as it patted its own skin-pouch in its cheek. One nut, nice and secure. It looked down on the two legged creature, just as it began exaggeratedly breathing. It inhaled for an obscene amount of time before exhaling. Showoff, the squirrel thought, I could do that too if I were that big. After repeating its show of superiority over the once more annoyed squirrel, it let out a piercing shout that frightened the poor beast into scrambling back up its tree.
“FUCK.”
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The now furious mage stalked back down the road, each step forcefully and deliberately placed, eyes scanning to see if the ring had simply fallen out of his pocket and hands firmly grasping his spellbook, ready to open it at a moment’s notice. Unfortunately, he mused, The only spell I actually have properly made right now is Fireball. Perhaps I should write down that rune I used against those damn bandits. Godsforsaken thieving scum, I should… Realizing he was only working himself into a frenzy, Victor took a moment to breathe, and calm himself. He’d been running for ten minutes or so, and it was a significant trek back. His progress for the day was seriously ruined, he was hot and sweaty underneath his robes, and his legs hurt from the exercise. Finally back at the spot where he had been ambushed, he sat down on a log, before examining the scene. The dirt road was a bit scuffed up, and a small sapling had been knocked over by a bandit flying into it. Victor smiled a bit, looking at the effects of his hasty work, before remembering why he was here. His smile immediately dropped into a scowl, and he stood up to kick dirt over the rune he had drawn. Now that his work was removed and no other could copy it, he began looking for a trail of some sort left behind by the bandits.
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Several hours later, with the sun dipping below the horizon, Victor pushed his way out of the forest and onto a new road with the footprints he’d been following leading directly to a village. Brushing his clothes as clean as he could, Victor grimaced. He couldn’t just go blasting his way in, and there were only half a dozen of the bandits. It was a small village, but it would still be a pain to find them here. Looking up at the darkening sky, he decided he needed a rest anyways, and so started his walk into the village. As he stepped up to the entrance, a single guard was leaning against the shoulder-high fence that surrounded the village. Victor waited for the guard to notice him, only to realize the man was asleep.
“Excuse me,” Victor loudly started.
“Eh? Oh! ‘Scuse me sir, I didn't see you there!” the guard stood up straight and unruffled his gambeson. At least he has the sense to keep ahold of his spear, Victor thought as the man cleared his throat and continued, “So uh, name, occupation, and reason fer visit?”
“Victor Foreshock, Mage. I am traveling these parts and would like to avail myself of your Inn. I assume you have one here?”
“Oh, yeah, certainly we do,” the guard squinted, looking over the robed figure in front of him in the torchlight, before spotting the book sticking out the side pocket of the satchel and nodding, “Yep, just walk on down the road there, right in the middle, there's a big ol’ clearing, an’ the only two story building in the village Is the one yer looking for.”
“Thank you.” Victor replied before walking down the road in question. A minute or so later, he found himself in the middle of the village square, and was beginning to second guess his decision. The ‘Rottin Hare’ sat on the right side of the road, with cracked wooden shutters closing the windows on the second floor and a questionably intact stable area to the side. The interior was lit, but seemed quiet. Sighing, Victor walked up to the door and pushed it open. The door, lacking any means whatsoever of being secured, creaked and groaned as he opened it. Stepping inside, a man sat behind a desk with a large book in front of him. To the left was a staircase looking just as intact as the stables, and to the right a wide empty doorway leading into a dining area of some sort.
“Welcome sir, to the Rotting Hare!” The man surreptitiously wiped the corner of his eye, blinking several times in what appeared to Victor as an attempt to wake up. “What can I help you with, sir mage?”
Victor cleared his throat, before speaking, “A room for the night and…” He looked at the state of the dining area, “...a dinner and breakfast?”
“Oh, yes certainly. Dinner, Breakfast, and a night will cost you eighteen brass. And might I have your name to put in my log?”
Victor opened his satchel, and began digging for the coinage as he replied. “Victor Foreshock is my name, and here are your coins.” The mage placed the coinage on the table, and began walking into the dining area. It was a fairly simple place with small circular wooden tables, four short stools sitting around each table, and what appeared to be a bar at the back of the area, with a small half door behind the bar leading into a kitchen. Several of the stools were occupied by who Victor assumed to be villagers, who were quietly eating some kind of stew from wooden bowls and drinking some sort of liquid from wooden mugs. A red haired woman in a long dress moved between tables, talking briefly to some of the guests and occasionally moving behind the bar and returning with a newly filled mug to give to a table. Victor sat down on the most sturdy looking stool against the bar and watched as the man moved from the front desk to behind the bar, waving over a kid to replace his seat at the desk.
“So,” The innkeep began, “we’ve only got stew right now, but we’ve a selection of different ales to-”
Victor held up a hand, interrupting him. “Just a glass of water and stew please.” A few moments later, Victor had a steaming bowl of food, and a cup of water, made of glass surprisingly, as it was the first piece of glass he’d seen in this village. Even the mugs displayed were wooden with thin metal bands around them. Pulling out his spellbook, Victor flipped to a blank page, pulled out his quill, and unsealed his inkwell. A few minutes later, as the soup went from scalding hot to just warm, the Mage had finished adding a new rune to his book. He muttered as he went back over his logic, half remembering it from his old spellbook, and then placed a hand on the side of the water glass. He focused for a moment, and there was a hissing noise. A bit of steam wafted off the top of the glass, and Victor shook his hand clear of a bit of grime that had seemingly materialized on his palm. He then closed his book, took the provided spoon, and began eating. Most of the way through his meal, he looked up and saw that child from the front desk standing next to him. The boy had the same dark hair and green eyes as the innkeep.
[https://i.imgur.com/j4ZJGgA.png]
“Excuse me mister wizard, what did you do to your water glass?” The child spoke up before Victor could start ignoring it.
With a long sigh, Victor looked at the kid and said simply, “I purified it. Removed all the unwanted bits.”
“How did you-”
“You wouldn’t understand if I explained it to you, and I’ve no desire to talk.” Victor got up, leaving the bowl and glass on the bar, and looked towards the innkeep, “Which room am I staying in?”
The innkeep nodded, and pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to the mage, “Room two, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Victor nodded and stood up, “There is, actually. Do you know of any… bandit activity in the area?” Victor placed his hand on the countertop, showing the glint of a silver piece and looking the other man directly in the eyes.
The innkeep glanced at the silver, before looking back at Victor. His eyes slid slightly to the side as he said, “Sorry sir, I've not heard anything of the sort.”
“Well, that’s a good thing I suppose. Bandits only bring trouble.” Victor turned and headed to room number two, taking extra care to lock the door behind him.