Artyom’s magically charged run slowed into a mundane jog. Under the effects of Olympian’s Speed, it only felt like a leisurely stroll. But after helping find survivors after a massacre, fighting off an enemy army, and running all the way here with the barest amount of sleep, even that stroll might as well have been a marathon.

The walls of the nearest town came into view and as he approached. They turned out to be just a head taller than Artyom and only a foot thick. The man from Earth scoffed while still looking ahead, knowing that it wouldn’t be enough to stop a warband like the last one, especially one equipped with Skills. It was likely made to keep wild animals out rather than an invading army.

One thing that did make Artyom smile was how the road went from plain dirt to paved stone bricks. He was expecting bumpy cobblestone with how close this town was to Freeacres, but was grateful for the unexpected respite for his feet.

Just past the walls was a wooden sign with the name of the town written on it, “Trellisia,” and next to that was a man. He sat on a wooden chair that faced the road coming in, and he wore an orange long sleeve cotton shirt and light blue pants.

His eyes lit up as he saw Artyom, and the man immediately shot out of his seat and waved. “Hello there traveler, I see you’ve come to Trellisia, entrance to the kingdom’s frontier! I’m sure you have plenty of news you’d like to-”

Artyom shot past him before he could finish.

“News you’d like to share with me about your travels, or where you’re from,” continued the man, running up just behind him. “Though judging from your linens, I’d say you’re from Freeacres. Bah, they’re nothing more than a village, we’re the true frontier town!”

Artyom turned his head over to the man while not slowing his pace. His eyebrows creased and an angry frown formed on his lips, yet the strange man still looked at him challengingly.

“The grapes we grow are superior to their cherries, and so is our sparkle! You should try some, the nearest tavern is just down the road,” the orange-clad man said, his expression turning into a weirdly worming smile before changing back to a challenging frown. “You have tried their sparkle, right? It won’t be a victory unless you say ours is better, not just good in its own right.”

“This guy is way too nosy,” Artyom thought to himself before his eyes widened in a jolt of fear. “Wait, what if he’s a spy from the Dark Lord meant to find and kill off any stragglers from the attack? It’d keep word from getting to whoever can form an army to fight the war band back.”

“So you never told me your name, what can I call you, stranger?”

Artyom considered casting Tungsten Body on himself and punching the man, if just for getting in the way of his mission, but shot that idea down. It wouldn’t leave a good impression on the other townsfolk who he needed to grill for information if the first thing he did here was beat one of their neighbors up. Though if they felt the same way about this man as Artyom did, it might make them like him instead.

“You know, you smell quite a lot like soot and iron. I’m just going to call you Sooty.”

“Tungsten Bo- no,” thought Artyom. “If he’s actually a spy, I’ll just bait him out. Otherwise, if he’s so nosy, he might actually have the information I need.”

“That’s probably what everyone from Freeacres smells like, they probably don’t boil their wood ash enough to turn it into lye for soap.”

“Freeacres is gone,” said Artyom, slowing down into a walk. “It was attacked, they burned it down.”

“Gone? How can it be gone? Who burned it down?!” asked the orange-clad man. His voice started confused, but slowly grew to sound genuinely concerned.

“The Dark Lord’s army. The warband that did it is gone now, but there could be others.”

“T-the Dark Lord?! By the goddess, that’s terrible! Someone has to warn the Count! Were you planning on doing that?”

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“Yup,” lied Artyom. “But I also heard the hero was nearby, and I wanted to warn him as well. Do you know where he might be?”

“The hero? Of course, he’s on a quest to stop the Dark Lord, he’s the perfect person to ask! But… I’m not entirely sure where he is exactly. I heard about him being in the Count’s territory from Aulif, she knows all about that.”

“Where can I find her?”

“In the bar I told you about earlier, just down this road. Let me take you there,” said the man as he jogged past Artyom and led the way down the street. Artyom could have sworn there was the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

With a frown of his own, the man from Earth followed along.

Several people out and about looked at the two with confusion, most of them pairing up and whispering to each other as soon as the duo was out of earshot.

“Does this guy have the whole town under his thumb or something? They might be too scared to warn me of any danger.”

The two continued for several more minutes, passing several wood and stone buildings. Their facades were well worn, showcasing their advanced age, yet the bright blues, greens, and purples they were painted with gave off the vibrancy of a more youthful and innocent spirit living within their walls.

Eventually, the orange-clad man slowed and came to a halt in front of a particularly large two-storey building twice as wide as the previous houses.

“This is the bar I was talking about, Aulif should be inside. Come on-”

“Give me a second first,” said Artyom, stepping to the side and towards a dark alley out of view.

“A-alright,” he mumbled.

The man from Earth didn’t pay his words any mind and instead activated Tungsten Body and channeled a Gravity Lance in his hand. “It’s now or never, he’s not getting a better opportunity to ambush me than this,”

Five seconds. Ten. Then half a minute, and soon an entire one. One stretched into two, and before it could become two and a half, Artyom turned around with a frown, ready to throw his attack.

Nobody was there.

“Hey, it’s been a while, are you still there? Is everything alright?” said the nosy man from out of view.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m coming back now,” said Artyom with a look of disappointment as he dispelled his readied attack.

As he stepped back into the sunlight, he saw the man whispering to somebody else. They disengaged as soon as Artyom was visible, but the words “quarter of an entire barrel” were still barely audible.

Rather than saying anything more, the man motioned for Artyom to follow him into the bar.

The two were greeted with a cool shade as they passed the saloon-style swinging doors inside, along with the aroma of frying food and grape must. The floor and furniture were made of a dark, almost maroon colored wood that matched the purple contents of the glass cups on just about everyone’s tables. About two dozen people were scattered about the many smaller tables, enjoying their drinks and talking animatedly amongst each other, yet turning their heads to gaze at the newcomers without skipping a beat in their conversations.

The vibrancy of life surrounding Artyom felt like someone had suddenly snapped in front of his face. The shock pushed away the cloud of melancholy, if ever so briefly, just enough to feel hunger and exhaustion finally catch up to him.

“Hey, are you alright?” asked the orange-clad man as he looked down at Artyom’s legs, which began to wobble.

“Yeah, just hungry,” said the man from Earth as he staggered over to an empty table to lean against. “What’s on the menu?”

“Grape sparkle, and a Teccan dish called Tomays or something,” said a man standing behind the bar at the back of the room. “It’s corn batter I wrap around some meat and vegetable stuffing that’s steamed. Decided to put my own twist on ‘em and fry ‘em after.”

“You mean tamales? Been a while since I’ve had those, get me twenty of them.”

“Twenty? Most people get full after three or four, you sure-”

Artyom pulled out a gold coin and flicked it at the bartender with his thumb. “And a mug of sparkle. Let me know if you need help with the math.”

The shine of the coin caught everyone’s attention, who immediately stared at Artyom and began whispering amongst themselves.

“So who’s this contact who knows about the hero?” asked the man from Earth to the one in orange.

“Her, over there,” he said, pointing to a cloaked lady at the far corner of the bar.

She had a number of wrinkles on her face that put her at around fifty years old, yet her hawkish gaze that darted all across the room belonged to someone twenty years younger. Her hair was a pale blonde with strands of white and gray speckled throughout.

She was more focused on the reactions of the other patrons than Artyom himself, so when the man from Earth walked over and sat down in the chair across from her, she flinched.

“So, word on the grapevine is you know about the hero,” said Artyom, his gaze piercing through whatever air of mystery she tried to shroud herself in. “You’re going to tell me where he is.”

“So you’re the guy who pissed out an entire barrel of cherry sparkle in the back alley?”

“What the fu-?”