The morning sun rose over the treetops of the Valterre, piercing its canopied darkness with a million rays of golden light. The air was just beginning to warm. The constant trill of insects and hungry birds chirping could be heard throughout the forest. As the damp of the cool night evaporated, it released a mélange of smells; pine, moss, and fresh bark, dirt and delicate wildflower.
In his place of hiding—a wide stump hollowed out by rot, concealed by an overgrown fern—Max was trying his best to appreciate it all, but wasn't doing a very good job of it, though no fault of his own. Despite the warmth of morning, his teeth were chattering. While running from Chilton, he’d stumbled and found the small foxhole by accident. When he heard the guard trip and crash into the ground, Max took the opportunity to hide.
A decision which likely saved his life.
Though he couldn’t see anything from the small enclosure, the sounds were enough. He’d heard Chilton’s threats, then the man’s battle with the first bugbear. He heard Chilton running, then screaming, then a loud cracking sound, like a walnut broken open. After that, he never heard Chilton again. Though the guard’s silence brought him some measure of comfort, it also served as a stark reminder of the dangers that lay waiting in every square meter of this world.
Max shivered. It would take some time for his bones to warm up. He was woefully unprepared to be caught out in the wilderness like this; unprepared for a journey of any length, really. Alby had been in charge of bringing the food and water, and now Max wished he had gotten a heavier wool cloak the last time a trader had come through Brix.
Rubbing his arms, Max prepared himself to emerge from his hiding place, knowing that moving around would get his blood flowing again. First he listened for any signs of danger. Hearing none, he then peeked through the ferns.
Nothing.
Max breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Chilton wasn’t exactly a low-level player; neither of the guards were. Still, it shocked him how easily the bugbears had dispatched the man. He’d have to be very careful going forward. Though he seemed alone for the time being, it wouldn’t be good to linger—there’d be more than just bugbears sauntering about the Valterre. Of this he was certain.
After tapping the satchel at his belt, a map of the area appeared in the air. Most of it was blank, except for Brix Mines and now a small slice of Valterre Woods. That was expected; the map would only show the areas he'd personally explored. However, Max only needed to see where he was in comparison to the mining settlement so he could find the road, which he knew ran east from there. He was too far west, so after orienting himself, he put away the map and began heading south to find the road.
A cacophony of thoughts threatened to overwhelm him as he made his way through the forest, but Max tried to focus on the task at hand. He needed to keep his wits about him and place every step with care. Tiptoeing did no good if there were dry branches snapping underfoot. Every now and then, he paused to check the map again and listen to the surroundings. Other than the birds and bugs, however, Max heard nothing. Whether that was his own good luck or something else, he was thankful.
He reached the road within a half hour.
The forest seemed to yield itself to the dirt path. Though the tree canopy leaned over, giving the wide trail a somewhat tunnel-like feel, it was like the trees respected the road and purposely did not grow near it. Some evidence of clearing could be seen—some stumps and hacked foliage—but otherwise the path wove through the forest unchallenged.
Okay, then.
Now that he’d found the road, there was nothing else to do but follow it. As the main throughway connecting the wilderness of the Valterre with the plains and farmlands closer to Tiann, Max knew it would eventually lead to the city on the coast. Based on what he’d heard, the journey would take at least seven days walking. Though he was still numb from the night’s events, he willed himself forward, putting one step in front of the other.
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Max wasn’t stupid enough to walk on the road directly. When Chilton and the other guard failed to return, he figured Skole would likely send out a patrol to figure out what happened. Getting caught out on the road would do him no favors—he escaped well-enough under the cover of night, but if he were spotted now, he’d be chased down and captured for sure.
He had a fairly good idea of what would happen after that.
Instead, Max skirted the treeline; close enough that he wouldn’t lose the road, but deep enough so that he could crouch in a moment’s notice and remain hidden. He made sure to keep one ear aligned towards the road. If a mount’s hooves were to pound upon the packed dirt, he’d hear them long before he could be seen.
As he began walking eastward, Max kept his senses alert but finally allowed his mind to be consumed by the events of the last day. They weighed on him like a sack of coal. The botched robbery… Alby’s murder… nearly his own… and the dagger…
The dagger!
Last night, Max had been too scared to think too much about the guard’s death and what happened in the moments afterward. A fractured memory didn’t help, either. All he could remember was a blinding, burning rage—when he’d regained his sight and sanity, he found a dagger in his hand, and Grayle’s lifeblood running over his forearm. The next he knew, Chilton had spotted him, and he ran for his life.
He opened his inventory to see the weapon again, but it was gone. All he found was the spare clothes he’d packed and that mysterious black-purple stone.
How…?
Where had the dagger come from? Even more curiously—where did it go? Max ran from Chilton with the dagger in hand, kept it clutched to his chest while he was hiding in the hollowed stump. He didn’t recall ever putting it back into his inventory.
He took the stone out of his inventory again. In natural daylight, it seemed to absorb the light, taking on a jet black appearance. Max couldn’t see any purple at all, in fact, not like before. It was as if it was only the hot flames from the torch that revealed the stone’s true color. It also felt cold in his palm. That too, was odd.
He tapped on the stone again, wondering if something had changed between now and the mines. When the info box came up, it still read:
????? ?????
Frowning, Max returned the stone to his inventory. A problem for another day. One thing at a time. First he had to ensure his own survival, long enough to reach Tiann. Maybe, hopefully he’d find some answers there, but until then it was no use expending previous mental energy on fruitless trains of thought. He’d only been walking for about an hour and already he felt tired and foggy-headed. Max didn’t need to check his Hunger and Thirst to know that both were getting high. If he didn’t find food and water soon, the trek would only get more difficult.
Still, there was nothing else to do but keep following the road. If he wandered around, it was possible he would find a stream of fresh water or a wild patch of berries, but it was even more likely he’d run into an enemy he couldn’t defeat and couldn’t run from. Despite his slowly increasing fatigue, his best chance of surviving was tied to avoiding mobs at all costs. So, with chapped lips and a rumbling stomach, Max continued onwards and hoped he’d soon run into a merchant’s caravan or pack-trader he could buy from.
The minutes turned to hours. When the sun had risen past its apex and began its downward arc towards the horizon, Max picked up the distant sound of beating hooves. They were on the road and sounded like they were approaching fast.
Brix guards?
Max dove further into the forest without a second thought. He found a spot where he could be concealed by leaves yet still see the road through the foliage. As the hoofbeats neared, he kept himself completely still and waited to see who'd been sent to hunt him.
Max found himself holding his breath as the riders rounded the bend in the dirt road.