The next morning they were lucky to move with a little less caution. After descending the plateau of Tyre, the routes were more populated with travelers and merchants.

The forest dwarves they were traveling to lived at the base of a great mountain around a week away. In most maps, Tyre was considered the center of chartered lands. They were heading directly north, about halfway between Tyre and the edge of the known continent.

Dwarves, who often lived in and around mountain ranges, seemed to have a morbid naming sense. Bur had mentioned that his native mountains were called Mourne, while the Nuno lived at the base of a range called Dreade. Lucian wasn’t sure what warranted the names, but he hoped it was more pleasant than it sounded.

The Dreade mountains, according to John, were tall and ice capped. Fresh water flowed down the peaks and to the base, where a large forest teaming with life housed the Nuno they were searching for.

One of the prolific mountains had a huge cavern inside of it where one of the great dwarven cities, Mezark, was located. Mezark was a huge landmark for anyone traveling. The area lacked a reigning kingdom for hundreds of miles, so bandits and nightmare creatures roamed relatively unimpeded. Mezark was a safe place to recuperate and prepare. A great fork in the road that every traveler in the north has stopped at.

Lucian’s destination was at the base of Mezark’s mountain, so there were ample people, from Tyre and other surrounding areas, traveling in the same direction.

John carried three weapons. His sword stayed ready at his hip along with a crossbow that was strapped to the opposing thigh. He had a silver spear that was strapped to his horse. The spear could elongate, and could grow to over eight feet, John told his son. A dwarven design from the very same dwarves they were going to visit.

Despite John being a walking arsenal and Lucian’s dark clothing and demeanor to strangers, they were rarely treated as threats. Most people had a soft spot or a son and father traveling together, and John got along great with others.

Being an adventurer since he was a child, John had grown up around mercenaries and drifters. Now, in his mid forties, he was a seasoned traveler who could easily communicate with others.

It was no surprise to Lucian that his father was the talking type, but it was impressive how casually he addressed and joked with others. Lucian, outside of his family, found little desire to ingratiate himself with anyone.

He had encountered similar circumstances when he traveled the land slaying monsters in his third life. England, during an innovation of steam powered machinery that was so unlike anything he had ever seen since, had its own great deal of wary travelers or bandits patrolling the countryside. While he did not learn proper diplomacy until the following life, Lucian had always given those with bad intentions an option - leave or die.

It ended with death more often than not, but Lucian always thought that giving them an option meant he had done his part to prevent the bloodshed. Now, he could tell his approach might have been wrong.

Lucian studied his father intently, trying to figure out what the secret to being social and friendly was. He could mimic the body language and tone, but he couldn’t find the right words to make someone like him.

He didn’t even know where to start. It was just easier, for him, to ignore.

The trip was without much drama. They traveled with a group of merchants and their armored guards for a few days before reaching the first, and only, major roadblock in their way.

“The Big Swamp,” John said gravely, his eyes focused on the road in front of them.

“Let me guess… it’s a big swamp,” Lucian responded dryly.

“Yeah… how’d you know?”

Lucian rolled his eyes and replied, “Deductive reasoning.”

“Don’t let the unoriginal name lower your guard. It’s dangerous. The most dangerous place we’ll encounter, no doubt. The canopy is so dense that it prevents a lot of sunlight from touching the ground. Nightmares hide in the sludge and slither around like snakes.” John shivered. “Scary place. The nightmares there are like giant octopus slugs, but with teeth.”

Lucian grimaced. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“I take it that we’re going around then?” he asked. It was a common strategy to take a detour eastwards and all the way around the swamp. It was time consuming, as the swamp was the largest from east to west, and would add over a week to their travel time.

“We could go through with the necklace,” John said, referring to the sunstone talisman Lucian was currently wearing. “As long as we make sure the horses are well rested beforehand, we could be out in a single day.”

“Is that something you’re optimistic about?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“How was it?”

“Stressful,” John answered honestly.

Lucian pursed his lips. That wasn’t the most uplifting answer. Messing with any nightmare was a bad idea, but he was confident that he could kill any creature - nightmare or not.

Undecided, they decided to weigh their options more later.

About a few hundred meters away from the swamp was a semi-large town that was the crossroads for the travelers. It was surrounded by a large wooden wall. Guard towers littered the area, especially on the north side of the town closest to the swamp.

His instincts were telling him that something was off in the town. It was an animalistic intuition he picked up in the jungle, and he trusted it.

But there was little option. It was approaching dark, so the either had no choice but to go into town to, at least, get more supplies for whatever avenue they were going to take.

Lucian gently pulled back on his reins and relaxed in his seat. His horse, Cranberry, was well trained and slowed down to a slow walk. Approaching the gate into the town, he noted how wary the guards seemed at the sight of them

Two guards sat in two perpendicular towers around twenty feet into the air. The towers were made of solid oak with stone corners to help reinforce its structure. Lucian could look down the road and see that the other side of the town, nearest to the swamp, had a much heavier wall reinforced mostly by rock that was a byproduct of magic. There were much more towers on that end as well.

Apparently nightmares weren’t smart enough to flank around, or so it seemed. They calmly walked into town. The guards near them tensed, but nobody bothered to stop them. Up close, Lucian could clearly see how frail and mentally rattled the guards looked.

Either the town was in dire straits, or they had very loose requirements to become a guard. His gut, always cautious, leaned more towards the former.

His father glanced at him. Lucian truly believed he had a great poker face, but his father easily deciphered his thoughts and told him. “We don’t have much of a choice. It was too cloudy to fully charge the amulet.”

Lucian nodded tightly. His father was right, of course. Not only was the amulet a major reason to pack up for the night, but also their horses would get sick if they tried to graze in the swamp and if they wanted to go around they would need more supplies.

It was safe to assume that most stores were closed by this time of the evening, so they were at an impasse.

For one night they had to stay.

Taking a closer look at the architecture of the town, Lucian found it rather admirable. It was a humid area, being next to a swamp and all, so the buildings were mostly built out of brick and other stones. Some of the buildings were smoothly paved stone, which meant an advanced mage had once helped construct the town.

Most towns, especially in this world, were built around a main, central, street filled with shops and taverns where travelers can eat and resupply without having to stray too far. It prevented strangers from going into the more residential parts of town.

That would make the main street the most busy, lively part of the town. This town, however, lacked that buzz he was expecting.

It wasn’t like the palace was a ghost town - there were plenty of people walking about. What caught Lucian’s attention was that it seemed like there were mostly travelers going about. Most travelers were smart enough to not leave their essential belongings sitting in an inn, so he could easily deduce the locals from tourists just by sorting out the ones with backpacks and weapons from those who had more streamline outfits.

There really were not a lot of locals. Everyone carried, at a minimum, a sword or dagger in this world, but those who were lightly dressed and without packs were few and far between. Those he did notice were in a hurry to leave the street and to their homes.

The locals were scared of something that the tourists were oblivious about. At this point of Lucian’s existence it was starting to become cliche. In England, it usually meant some sort of supernatural being was terrorizing the town. Which, more times than not, meant he had to kill it himself.

Though magic wasn’t as rare as his previous life. Most people could fight at levels leagues above what he experienced in his other lives. There shouldn’t be much problem burning a wraith or ganging up on a werewolf.

The only explanation would be a creature far scarier than his examples - a nightmare. They were often grotesque and were shaped in ridiculous ways that made them hard to fight.

Lucian didn’t spot any clear damage to any of the buildings. A nightmare, from what he read and was told, fought with the intent to destroy. Collateral damage happened more often than it didn’t. Besides, what was the point of such a reinforced wall if it didn’t work?

He already had a plan to figure out if the town was safe or not. He had an ace in the hole when it came to information.

“Dad, let’s get a drink,” he said to his father. John in a pub was a treasure trove of info.

John looked at his son with a quirked brow. “Most people don’t like when their fathers drink,” he said, trying to sound sagely.

“I don’t know. You’re the first dad I ever had,” Lucian pointed out. “Let's find a pub.”

“The path of an alcoholic, already?” The sarcasm was palpable.

“Yeah, I’m underaged so I need your help to feed my growing addiction.”

“Okay, okay,” John relented.

“Hold it right there!” the voice of an older man interrupted.

Lucian frowned at the intrusion and looked at the man who had stopped right in front of them. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was stout. His gut was peeking out over his belt in an unflattering way. Lucian, especially from an elevated position on his horse, was unimpressed.

“Good evening,” John said pleasantly, his voice dripping with kindness. “How can we help you today, Sheriff?”

Sheriff? Lucian faintly spotted a badge hidden under the man's bulbous gut. A brass badge seemed too western for his tastes, but his mind instantly equated the badge to authority, so clearly there was merit to having a shiny badge.

“Are you allowing underage drinking in my town?” the sheriff asked accusingly, his hand confidently on his belt as if he had all the power in the world.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Lucian was already exasperated to the point where he just wanted to ignore, or kill, the man and get on with his day. Though, his father may not approve of him killing someone in a non life threatening circumstance, so he just ignored the sheriff and dully looked at the sky.

“They call this area the lawless lands, don’t they?” John countered. “Whether or not my son chooses to drink or not shouldn’t really matter. The coin I pay is what matters. Also, for the record, I don’t let him drink.”

“The law, and the record, is me,” the sheriff said belligerently, taking a step forward in what could only be perceived as a threat.

Lucian let out a loud, bored sigh.

His intent was clear enough that the sheriff had no choice to turn to him with his own provocation, a sneer. “What was that, boy?” he demanded.

“Lu,” his father tried to interject, but it was too late.

Lucian’s expression was unbelievably plain, his voice monotone. “You might be the biggest fish in this tiny pond, but you’re still pathetically small - embarrassingly so. You’re wasting our time. Move.”

John’s palm met his own forehead. His son had been uncharacteristically serious since they left home, but an attitude like this was something he had never expected.

“Oh my god,” he muttered quietly. “He’s literally Rey’s child. Both of them ended up like her.” He stared at Lucian with a myriad of emotions. He raised his voice. “Lucian,” he called.

“No,” the sheriff raised his hand to stop him, “let the boy talk. I dare you to say it again.”

“I don’t have to. You heard me,” Lucian answered smugly. “I want you to repeat what I said.”

“Lu,” John tried to interrupt again.

“Oh?” the sheriff laughed with bravado, but his fists clenched. “Are you going to make me?”

Lucian didn’t respond, instead he put down the reins for his horse and was about to dismount.

“Lucian!” John called with an edge, making his son falter. Shaking his head, John reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a metal card. It was tattered and scratched, but still shone in a bright silver color. Encrusted into the card was a red gemstone.

John outstretched his arm and held the card towards the sheriff, who hesitantly grabbed it.

“Platinum?” the sheriff murmured as he closely inspected the card. He slowly handed the card back and looked at John with a completely different light than before. “That’s rare,” he said breathlessly. “They don’t make cards like that anymore.”

“It’s older than he is,” John replied, pocketing his card and pointing a thumb towards Lucian.

“That spear… by any chance,” the sheriff started slowly, “are you the adventurer, John?”

“No way,” Lucian interjected. He was in complete disbelief. There was now way his father, of all people, was so recognizable that a random person in a random town in the middle of nowhere could recognize him.

For fourteen years he lived with his father, and he showed no sign of being some renowned adventurer. He slept in until noon unless someone woke him up. He constantly spilled food on himself because he ate so ferociously. His father would shut down the second anyone touched his sides because he was so ticklish. He never saw some ‘John the adventurer’ in all his life.

John had a lot of friends, but never had any old, grizzled adventurers come to visit them. His parents didn’t really associate with anyone outside of the town they lived in. Was he actually famous?

Lucian was absolutely floored. “Dad, what?” was all he could ask.

John sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Well,” he started, taking his time to figure out what to say, “I guess I am, but that was a long time ago. Not many people know about me these days.”

“I was an adventurer when I was younger, rated silver with a sapphire,” the sheriff explained as he got closer and extended his hand. “Dwayne,” he introduced. “I was at Blackgate when the vampires attacked. Your party saved the whole city.”

“That was a crazy weekend,” John said with a laugh as he shook Dwayne’s hand with vigor. “Nice to meet you, Dwayne. Silver sapphire is pretty good, no wonder you’re sheriff. Also, please excuse my son, he gets his manners from his mother, apparently.” Lucian looked away, trying to avoid his father’s pointed gaze.

“Is his mother the Valkyrie, Monica?” Dwayne said excitedly, “Excuse me for asking, but I saw her fight firsthand. Sometimes I still dream about that glowing sword of hers.”

“No, not Monica,” John quickly corrected. “Rey. Not sure if you know her. Monica usually stole the limelight.”

“The healer,” Dwayne said. “Yeah, I know her. Saved my friend who had half his blood sucked out. Everyone thought she was a saint because of her abilities, but her attitude…” he nodded sagely, “explains the boy.”

“I find that offensive,” Lucian felt compelled to add in.

“That was the point, kid.”

Lucian inhaled sharply. He held his breath.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

He exhaled.

Fine. He won’t start any more trouble. Lucian decided to just let his dad do what he does and talk his way into some amenities.

Dwayne waited for a reaction. When he realized he wouldn’t get a rise out of Lucian he turned back to John. “Word came out that your whole party, minus the Valkyrie, were dead,” he commented. “Rumor was you died fighting a-”

“Yeah, shit happens. Rumors, ya know?” John laughed, clearly uncomfortably. “Anyways, Dwayne, it’s really getting late and my son is just a boy and needs to rest,” he ignored Lucian’s scoff, “would you help us get situated for the night? Long journey ahead.”

“I suppose so,” the sheriff answered. “I assume the boy is so uptight because it's past his bedtime.”

Lucian ignored the barb and they followed Dwayne to an inn only a few buildings down. He told the innkeeper to treat them well, so he gained a little bit of points in Lucian’s mind.

John, being surprised at how prickly his son was around strangers, decided to go to a pub to gather information by himself. He instructed Lucian to leave the horses at a stable where they could eat some good feed and have their saddles adjusted. There was only one stable in town, according to the sheriff, so Lucian leisurely walked to the outskirts of town, horses in tow.

Upon reaching the stables, Lucian was impressed by the sight of the well-kept establishment. As a crossroad for anyone traveling north, the town had its fair share of travelers in need of help with their horses. The stables were quite large and held a plethora of animals, including sheep that were being tended to by a boy around Lucian's age.

Approaching the boy, Lucian addressed him in a soft voice, trying hard not to startle him. “Excuse me.”

The boy, so engrossed in his work, jumped and let out a sharp shriek, causing Lucian to wince.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"No no no! It’s okay. I don’t know how I didn’t hear you coming. Hello!" the boy replied with a thick country accent and a bright smile.

It would be hypocritical for Lucian to call the young man a kid, since they were definitely close in age. The young man was bigger than Lucian, with a healthy body and a sun-kissed face dusted with freckles across his nose and cheeks. His hair was a light brown color that was messy, yet not in a dirty-looking way. His clothes were simple but well-maintained, consisting of a plain shirt and trousers tucked into boots. His posture was tall and welcoming, and his eyes sparkled with curiosity and friendliness. Lucian couldn't help but notice how innocent he looked, which was a rare sight for him.

"I’m Lucian," he introduced. "I’m hoping you can help me with my horses, Cranberry and Radish."

"Well Lucian, Cranberry and Radish, I think you found your guy!" the young man said jovially.

"I’m Erik and I like horses!"

"Hi Erik. Me too?" Lucian replied awkwardly, unused to someone so enthusiastic.

"Follow me to the barn," Erik said as he grabbed Radish’s rein and started walking away. Lucian hastily followed with Cranberry. "I noticed Radish here broke a strap on his saddle. I can fix it in a few minutes."

"Good eye. Thanks."

"Of course. It’s what I do."

They arrived at a large, neat barn and to a section filled with tools. Erik immediately started to work Radish's saddle. Lucian observed Erik, seeing if the boy was a potential threat or not. The farmhand had strong, steady hands and moved efficiently, but it didn’t seem like he had any combat training. He had potential, but was no danger, Lucian decided as he leisurely sat on a hay bale and watched Erik work.

“Say Lucian, are you an adventurer?” Erik asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Lucian took a moment before answering. While he wasn’t officially an adventurer, there was really no other accurate way to describe his escapades throughout his multiple lives. On the other hand, this was the first time he left his home country in this life.

"Sure. I’d say I go on adventures rather than school or a trade, so probably," Lucian decided. "I don’t have a card or anything."

"That’s so cool!" Erik's eyes lit with excitement. "I want to go on an adventure so bad, but my pa won’t let me! He has no help with the stable ever since my brother left. I’m stuck here for now."

“It is dangerous," Lucian warned.

Erik groaned. “Safe is subjective. Things can be alright one day and horrible the next. I see so many amazing adventurers passing through town. I want to form meaningful memories.”

“A lot of adventurers do it out of necessity. Lack of options. You probably make good money being the only stables in town,” Lucian countered.

“Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

“To be honest, I don’t know much about money or happiness.”

“That’s dark.”

“Okay.”

“Do you feel free?” Erik asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Lucian felt a sense of unease wash over him. His curse, a never-ending cycle tinged with misfortune, made him feel trapped to fight and die forever. But then again, it was that very curse that had led him to his current freedom - his fifth life with his family. He couldn't help but wonder if it was all just a temporary reprieve from the inevitable cycle he was stuck in. Was he truly free, or was it just an illusion? Would the next time he died condemn him to violence once again, an orphan with no one to turn to?

So he couldn’t really say he had freedom, could he? Six lives from now, or maybe twenty or thirty, would he look back at this life and realize that this was the one, fleeting moment where he felt free? The weight of those thoughts felt heavy on his chest, crushing him. He knew he may never have something like this again.

Lucian shifted uncomfortably on the bale of hay, his mouth dry. The question had caught him off guard, and he felt a twinge of irritation at Erik's for even asking the question at all. "That's a hard one," he finally admitted. "Any answer to that question is purely subjective."

Erik didn't seem satisfied with that answer. "Then I want your subjective answer," he said firmly.

Lucian found himself taken aback by Erik. He had initially written the young stablehand off, assuming him to be a simple country boy, but Erik’s wit made the conversation surprisingly more complex than he had expected. Even as they spoke, Lucian couldn't help but notice how deftly Erik tinkered with the saddle, his hands moving with precision and ease. He seemed capable, which was a label Lucian rarely gave someone.

“At times,” Lucian answered slowly, his gaze wandering off to the distance. “There are moments I can go either way. I don’t think there’s one remedy for those kinds of feelings.”

“I think adventuring is my remedy,” Erik replied with a voice filled with passion.

Lucian felt no need to play devil's advocate and dissuade the teen. Erik’s heart already seemed set. "If that’s what you want to do then do it," he said with a shrug.

“I want to,” Erik said wistfully, pausing for a moment before adding, “but I can’t. My brother ran away - same idea. It’s just me and pops and I can’t leave him cause the bandits might attack.”

Lucian quirked his brow. “Bandits?”

“Oh yeah, you don’t know about the bandits hiding in the swamp?” Erik’s tone was beyond casual.

“No, Erik. I did not know about the bandits in the swamp,” Lucian replied sarcastically, before taking a moment to really think about it. “How? There’s nightmares.”

“A bunch of local boys. My only guess is that they know the swamp well enough to avoid them. I don’t know how, but they do it. They attack the town often for supplies or just out of spite for the sheriff. Bunch of assholes, in my opinion.”

“I agree.” Lucian nodded in agreement, having a long, arduous past with all kinds of bandits.

“If only Aiden was here. That’s my big bro. We’d hop in the swamp and beat them all up before dusk.” Erik's voice was tinged with bitterness.

By Erik’s tone, and the way he clenched at the saddle, his brother had probably left home not too long ago.

Lucian knew that when a boy first leaves home, they don’t tend to travel too far away. On top of that, it was almost too ironic that a group of locals were camped out in the swamp. Aiden was probably a part of the bandits, but Lucian didn’t feel the need to bring it up. It felt wrong to dishearten someone like Erik. Better to let it be and let him figure it out on his own.

He decided to tell his father it would be better to go around the swamp. It would take longer, but Lucian knew that he would kill any bandit that got in his way. He had no mercy for those who chose that lifestyle, but he couldn’t accept Erik’s hospitality and then potentially kill his brother the very next day.

Lucian excused himself and left the horses in Erik’s capable hands. The farmhand said he would give them a good brushing and have them in peak condition for tomorrow. Lucian believed him.

It was night when Lucian got back to the inn. His father was still drinking, but he was probably alright. The guards patrolling the gates had doubled when the sun fully set, so the night life in the town actually wasn’t too bad.

He fell asleep thinking about Erik’s question and the sad truth he had realized. Sooner or later he would die - and with his track record it would probably be sooner. When that happens and he wakes up again, in a new life and new world, things may not be as good as before.

Would he have a father, mother and sister that cared for him like? Would he have anyone at all?

All of those thoughts made him feel weak. Lucian hated feeling weak, but that was reality. He didn’t want to be alone any longer, but he was weak. He almost let Eleanor die to cougars. He had to leave her because he failed to get into Lumi.

He was getting weaker.

If he had his family taken from him… he didn’t even know what would happen to him. He would never recover.

He desperately needed to get stronger, he decided. He needed to be stronger than Eleanor, stronger than platinum rank and stronger than his aunt. That way he could protect what was his.

He had issues falling asleep.