Raffin's falcon-like gaze cut through the smoke, locking onto the man and stirring him awake. Concealed daggers beneath his sleeves were ready, and his right foot subtly shifted, prepared for any sudden move.
Beside him, Brian stood rigid, ready to spring into action. Asdras silently paid tribute to his mentor, Joe, reminding himself to never lower his guard.
Initially, the rich scent from the stewpot captivated the man, his stomach growling loudly. Gradually, he noticed the three figures encircling him. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, betraying his hunger or apprehension. His eyes flickered nervously between Raffin's prepared stance and the weapons trained on him, assessing his precarious situation.
"What shadows follow you, stranger?" Raffin asked.
The man glanced warily at Asdras and Brian, knowing one wrong move could turn into deadly certainty.
His attention shifted to Raffin, whose unsettling pale blue eyes contrasted with his brown irises. Nervously, he tried to sound confident, but his growling stomach betrayed him, making his voice crack and quiver like an out-of-tune violin.
"Strain," he whispered.
When the man said "Strain," Raffin froze, his gaze sharpening as he scrutinized the stranger.
Suddenly, Raffin broke the tension with hearty laughter, his shoulders shaking with each chuckle. The sound of his laughter boomed around the campfire. Bewildered, Asdras and Brian exchanged confused looks between the guest and their laughing friend.
The man sighed in relief at the laughter, grateful that his sweating brow wouldn't meet the cold kiss of steel.
Raffin inhaled sharply, his eyes drilling into the stranger. "Proof, then. Show me."
"Proof?" the man asked, puzzled.
"You claim to be a merchant?" Raffin flicked a finger at the man's uniform. "Then show your proof."
He fumbled through the pockets of his worn leather clothing, the creases and textures etched into his memory. His trembling hands searched frantically through each bag on his belt. Anxiety pulsed through him like a drumbeat, his breath coming in shallow, hurried bursts. The desperation in his search was palpable.
Asdras and Brian remained vigilant, weapons poised, muscles tense, and eyes unwavering. They mirrored each other's posture, senses heightened, and prepared for any sudden danger.
Finally, the merchant's shaking fingers found something in his left pocket. With a sudden jerk, he retrieved and clutched the token tightly.
"Here!" he said, clearing his throat and tossing the token to Raffin.
Raffin examined the token closely. It gleamed in the firelight, a polished circle of golden metal. An intricate hourglass pattern was etched on its surface, with a name engraved at the bottom in bold capital letters.
Raffin looked up at the man, his fingers holding the token at a diagonal angle, and he asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity, "Javier?"
"By the way, sir, it's me, the well-fed man," Javier said, unsure where to look. "A merchant from the guild; it's a pleasure, sir."
When Raffin heard the name, he signaled Brian and Asdras to lower their guards. He beckoned Brian to fetch a stool for Javier and tossed the token back to him.
Raffin stood and moved closer to the stewpot, stirring its contents with a wooden spoon.
Casually, he asked, "So, Javier, what brings you to these parts?"
Grateful for the stool, Javier struggled to find his words as the scent of cooking meat filled the air. Mustering courage, he asked, his voice trembling, "May I have a bowl, sir?"
Raffin paused, glanced at the moon, and grinned mischievously. "One gold coin per spoon, my friend," he said.
"One gold! How about a silver?" Javier sprang up, stunned by the price, his voice tinged with desperation and disbelief.
Unmoved, Raffin shook his head, shutting down the bargaining. Brian's laughter filled the air, amused by the haggling. Nearby, Asdras busied himself with the horse, offering it corn and apples as they awaited their meal.
"I only have four gold coins, sir," Javier said, scratching his neck. "As Mama always said, every blessing is a curse in disguise."
Raffin ran his hands through his hair. "So, four spoons. See, almost a full bowl, my good sir."
Javier reached into a small bag concealed in his clothing, carefully avoiding prying eyes, and counted four polished gold coins. With a nod, he handed them to Raffin, who received them with a warm, grateful smile.
As Raffin accepted the gold, the firelight cast intricate shadows over the meal, creating a mesmerizing image. The flames highlighted the colors and textures of the rabbit meat, potatoes, and herbs, making them look like a painting.
Satisfied, Raffin handed Javier a bowl brimming with the savory dish, the rich aroma filling the air. He then gave full bowls to Brian, Asdras, and himself before turning to Javier. "So, Javier, what brings you to these parts?" he asked.
Javier tried to explain his situation, but his hunger and the aroma of the meal left him struggling to form coherent phrases.
Seeing his plight, Raffin sighed and reassured him, "Eat first, my friend. We'll talk later."
Between mouthfuls, Brian couldn't contain his delight. "This is the tastiest thing I've ever eaten in my whole life," he said.
Asdras, eyes closed and smiling serenely, inhaled the stew's scent and whispered a prayer, wishing prosperity to the rabbits' spirits.
Javier patted his belly and chuckled. "A meal to remember! Though delightful, it does sting the wallet. As Mama used to say, every silver lining has a cloud..."
Javier settled on the stool, gazing up at the starless night sky. He cleared his throat, mumbled something, and then mustered the courage to speak about his misfortunes. "You see, gentlemen, fortune's wheel has spun me into misadventure. I am, alas, a well-fed man cursed with bad luck."
Javier lifted a finger gravely. "My friend, let me tell you of my grand expedition from the western realms to the northern lands. On the journey, a cursed beast snatched away my mercenaries and precious goods in one fell swoop."
"It was a beast, a monstrosity from nightmares. The lizard, as big as six wagons, loomed out of the darkness like a living mountain. Its coal-black scales glinted malevolently."
"A ranked beast?" Asdras asked.
"Probably rank two," Raffin replied.
"Its jaws," Javier continued, "were wide enough to gulp a man whole, clamping down on my comrades one by one. The crunch of bones echoed in my ears as they were devoured. By a hair's breadth, I escaped with my life, but my luck had truly abandoned me that day."
"By some fortunate twist of fate, I found a caravan heading to the nearby outpost. They graciously took me in and sheltered me from the cursed weather. It was there I used the Jumper."
Javier paused and looked at their faces. "Does this region lead to Martimus, chief?" he asked dryly.
"No," Raffin said, shaking his head. "This is Baurous!"
Javier stared at the floor. "What a shame."
"And how did you end up unconscious around here?" Brian asked, recalling how they found him.
"That damned Jumper," Javier said, curling his shoulder over his chest. "It failed at a crucial moment and caused me to tumble here. Fortunately, I landed in a bed of fluffy snow."
He looked at the trio, weighing the consequences of his plea. Finally, he mustered the courage to ask, "May I join your company until we reach the outpost, kind sir?"
As the words left his lips, a pang of regret coursed through him, wondering if this decision might cost him more than he could bear.
"Of course, friend. You're welcome to share our camp tonight," Raffin said.
Raffin turned to Asdras, gesturing for additional blankets for their guest. He then motioned to Brian to dim the campfire and collect the stewpot and bowls as they prepared to settle for the night.
As they organized their camp, Brian moved to extinguish the bonfire. Suddenly, an unusual sound shattered the night's calm.
"Hey, what is that, sir?" Javier pointed his finger in the direction of their backs.