The kingdom was farther from the first castle than I had imagined. If I were a typical character from a fiction series, trekking through miles of hills and forests might sound like a grand adventure. But now, with every step I took, I realized just how exhausting it truly was. My body was weary, my legs aching from the constant climb, and the weight of my past seemed to add to the burden of the present.
As I trudged along the rugged path, I found myself reminiscing about the years when travel was a luxury, not a chore. It had been nearly six years since I used to glide effortlessly between cities in premium cars, chauffeured by a personal driver. I recalled my father's gift—his old car, handed to me for my birthday. I was too young to drive it myself, but I had a personal driver to take me around. Back then, I'd felt a pang of guilt, believing the used car was beneath me. I was infuriated by the thought of driving something so "ordinary," but my father didn't care. Our collection expanded to include a private yacht and even a jet. My travels were effortless and my experiences confined to the plush interiors of these luxury vehicles.
I had been so arrogant, so blinded by my own privilege. My money attracted people who called themselves my friends, yet none were genuine. The opulence of my life seemed endless until, in a cruel twist, it all vanished. The assets were liquidated to clear mounting debts, leaving me alone in a dilapidated mansion with just a few indifferent caretakers. The mansion, once grand, now stood as a ruin, reflecting the shattered remnants of my former life. My caretakers cared little for me, their interest only in the dwindling funds.
The school I was forced into was obscure and unknown, and even though they managed to reduce the fees, it was a far cry from the prestigious institutions of my past. I had no source of income and no one to confide in. The contrast was stark, and a tear managed to slip down my cheek, tracing a path to my chin as I walked.
Somehow, despite the endless miles, I had managed to reach halfway to the kingdom. The journey had been grueling, but the daily ride to school on my old, rusty bicycle—a four-mile trek from the mansion—had inadvertently built my stamina. Each bump and jolt of the ride had strengthened my resolve, preparing me, if only a little, for the trials of this arduous journey.
The once exhilarating promise of adventure had become a grueling test of endurance. My throat was parched, each breath dry and rasping, and my stomach growled in protest against the emptiness within.
In the midst of this relentless trek, I stumbled upon a cluster of strange fruits growing on a low shrub. Their colors were vivid—bright oranges and deep purples—contrasting starkly with the muted greens of the surrounding foliage. I approached cautiously, examining the fruits' glossy skins and odd shapes. They looked both inviting and untrustworthy.
I pulled a few from the bush, their weight light in my hand. Turning to the messenger, who had been a constant presence during the journey, I inquired, "Are these fruits safe to eat?"
The messenger studied the fruits with a practiced eye before nodding. "Yes, they're safe enough. Though they might not be the most palatable, they will serve to alleviate your hunger and thirst for a short time."
I took a tentative bite. The fruit was sweet, but the flavor was tinged with an odd, almost acrid aftertaste that lingered unpleasantly on my tongue. Still, it provided some relief from the gnawing hunger and persistent thirst that plagued me.
In an effort to understand more about my condition, I turned to the messenger. "Why am I feeling such intense hunger and thirst if I can survive without food?"
The messenger's response was pragmatic, tinged with a tone of practiced wisdom. "While your body can endure without sustenance, it will struggle. Food and drink are essential for maintaining stamina and reducing fatigue. You might not die from hunger, but the risk of fainting increases significantly. The rune you seek will greatly enhance your stamina, endurance, strength, and speed, crucial for enduring such arduous journeys."
As I continued down the path, my gaze wandered over the landscape. The terrain was shifting—dense forests gradually opening up to more cleared fields, with the distant spires of buildings beginning to emerge on the horizon. Yet, the journey was far from over. The land seemed to stretch endlessly, a reminder of the distance still to be covered.
The journey continued through a meadow that unfolded before me like a canvas painted with vibrant hues. The grasses swayed gently in the breeze, creating waves of green that shimmered in the sunlight. Wildflowers dotted the landscape with splashes of color—deep blues, vivid purples, and fiery reds. Each bloom seemed to dance with the wind, their delicate petals fluttering as if to beckon me closer.
The meadow was bordered by a river that wound through the land like a serpentine ribbon of silver. The water flowed with a serene grace, its surface catching the sunlight and scattering a million glints of light. The river's gentle murmur was a soothing backdrop to the symphony of rustling leaves and birdsong. I could see the pebbles and stones beneath the clear water, each one smooth and polished by the current.
The air was fragrant with the mingling scents of fresh earth, blooming flowers, and the crispness of the river. I took a moment to breathe deeply, allowing the natural perfume to fill my senses. The tranquility of the riverbank was a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of my past life. The contrast was almost jarring, reminding me of the sterile, unwelcoming atmosphere of my former home, which had been cloaked in shadows and neglect.
The meadow's beauty was matched only by the sense of freedom it imparted. The expansive field seemed to stretch endlessly, its undulating terrain a tapestry of natural splendor. Butterflies flitted about, their delicate wings adding to the vibrant scene, while the occasional deer or rabbit darted through the underbrush, a reminder of the life that thrived in this untouched sanctuary.
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The sight of scattered bones caught my eye, partially buried beneath the underbrush. They lay scattered and disjointed, a grim puzzle of white against the dirt. My thoughts darkened with unease as I wondered if these remnants were human.
The horizon gradually revealed the outskirts of the kingdom—a boundary between the wild expanse I had traversed and the structured domain I was about to enter.
As the first signs of civilization began to materialize, the landscape transitioned from rugged wilderness to a more defined and orderly environment. The distant silhouette of the kingdom's walls came into view, a signal that the grueling trek was nearing its end.
For the first time since my arrival in this unfamiliar world, I encountered humans who were not my former classmates. They were working in the fields, their figures outlined against the backdrop of rolling hills. Their labor, though humble and routine, bore an undeniable resemblance to the agrarian scenes of my previous world.
I made my way toward them, noting the serene beauty of the landscape—the meadows stretching out in verdant waves, the distant sparkle of a meandering river that cut through the countryside. It was a picture of tranquility and vitality, starkly different from the drab, worn interiors of my previous home.
As I drew nearer, the workers turned their heads, their expressions shifting from the focused diligence of their tasks to the faint hint of curiosity. Their eyes, though initially distant and absorbed in their work, now regarded me with a trace of confusion. They seemed to sense my unfamiliarity and the slight awkwardness of my presence. I scrutinized their attire for any signs of jewelry or runes.
One of them, a man whose face was etched with the marks of years of hard labor, spoke to me in a tone that carried both curiosity and mild surprise. "Did you wander off into the hills, young man? Or are you perhaps a… beginner?"
I stood momentarily at a loss for words, the weight of my past seclusion and lack of interaction with strangers making the situation feel unusually foreign. My experiences had largely been confined to the sterile environment of my mansion and the virtual worlds I frequented. Engaging with people outside that bubble required an adjustment. After a brief pause, I inclined my head in a respectful bow, a gesture of deference I had learned over the years.
"You are correct, sir," I said, my voice steady despite my internal uncertainty. "I am indeed a beginner and have traveled this far seeking shelter."
The initial surprise in their eyes seemed to dissolve into a more receptive demeanor. My acknowledgment of my novice status and my request for assistance appeared to open a doorway to a mutual understanding. The workers' faces, once marked by the hard lines of labor and confusion, now softened with a semblance of acceptance.
"Vithra!" the old man called out, his voice carrying a note of authority. A young boy, likely in his early teens, came sprinting across the fields.
"Call the guards," the old man instructed, his gaze shifting back to me with an expression that was both cautious and reassuring.
The mention of guards set off a flurry of thoughts in my mind. My initial reaction was a surge of apprehension. The term "guards" could signify a range of things—from an official escort to potential threats. The notion that they might be summoned to take me into the kingdom was not entirely comforting. However, a more unsettling thought crossed my mind: could it be that the kingdom had a policy of enslaving newcomers or forcing them into labor?
I silently hoped that my apprehensions were just the product of my overactive imagination and that the situation would unfold in a more positive manner. I had dearly wished that my arrival and request for shelter would be met with understanding and support, rather than the harsh and fearsome outcomes I had conjured in my mind.
"When did you arrive here, poor soul? And were you the only one summoned?" the old man asked, his tone revealing genuine curiosity beneath the weathered exterior. I noticed how the others, who had briefly paused their work to stare, began to turn back to their tasks, as if my presence was of no particular concern to them after all.
"I was summoned a week ago," I lied smoothly, though my pulse quickened. "My party was attacked by a mountain lion. I was the only one who survived." The falsehood came easily enough; I wasn't ready to expose my inexperience to anyone, especially not a stranger whose intentions were still unclear. The messenger had told me plenty about the wildlife of this world on my journey here. It seemed reasonable enough to fabricate a tale of survival—better to appear seasoned than clueless. Better not to become a target.
The old man squinted at me, perhaps weighing the truth of my words, before nodding. "Why don't you come get a drink? My house isn't far."
His offer was sudden, but I wasn't in the mood to follow strangers to unknown places, especially with the state of exhaustion clawing at me. I was drained, both physically and mentally, and the thought of moving another step, even for a drink, seemed unbearable. "No, I'm exhausted. I'll rest here," I replied, settling myself onto a nearby rock with a sense of finality.
For a brief moment, the old man's expression flickered with what seemed like irritation, though he quickly masked it. "Well, suit yourself," he muttered. "I'll continue my work, then."
As he turned and walked back toward the fields, I kept my eyes on him, watching his movements with a wary curiosity. Despite the apparent hospitality, there was something off—perhaps it was just my nerves or the odd shift in his expression when I declined his offer. Either way, I didn't trust anyone just yet.
As I rested, I let the quiet settle around me, the sounds of the field workers filling the silence. I needed to recover my strength, but more than that, I needed to figure out my next move. This world, though still new to me, felt far more dangerous than it appeared on the surface.
I heard the unmistakable sound of horses approaching. Two men, clad in uniforms that marked them as guards, rode into view. Their horses trotted steadily as they closed the distance between us.
"Are you the beginner?" one of them called out, his voice firm and authoritative.
I stood up, despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on me. My legs felt like lead, but I managed to respond. "Yes, I am."
"Hop on," he instructed. I climbed onto the horse behind one of the guards, feeling the powerful animal shift beneath me. The other guard fell in line beside us, and we began to gallop towards the kingdom gates.
As we approached, the massive gates loomed ahead, their grandeur a stark contrast to the simplicity of the landscape I had just traversed. The guards at the entrance looked up as we arrived, their expressions a blend of curiosity and routine professionalism.
One of the gatekeepers turned to the leading guard and asked, "Is he the one?"
"Yes," came the reply from guard, nodding in affirmation.
The female guard, standing at the gate, cast a final, scrutinizing glance at me. Her gaze was sharp yet not unkind. "Welcome to the Kingdom of the Rune'd King," she said, her voice steady and formal.
With those words, the gates creaked open, revealing the bustling activity of the kingdom beyond. The vibrant life of the kingdom stretched out before me, a sprawling array of buildings, markets, and people moving with purpose. It was a stark contrast to the isolated and decrepit mansion I had left behind.
I took a deep breath as we rode through the gates, the sights and sounds of the kingdom washing over me. This was not just a new place—it was a new beginning, where I will finally find my Rune.