Amukelo's brow furrowed in thought as Versted's words sank in. "That's not an option. Six months is way too long. I don't have that much time. How expensive would it be to buy a horse, and how long would it take?" Amukelo asked, already calculating the potential costs in his mind.
Versted stroked his chin thoughtfully, glancing at the horizon where the walls of Ansford stood. "With a horse, the travel could be reduced to one or two months, depending on the horse's quality and endurance. But," he added with a note of caution, "the cost would be substantial. Borrowing a horse for such a long journey would be ineffective and probably cost you around two bags of gold. Buying a horse outright, along with all the maintenance costs you'd incur along the way, would be closer to three, maybe even four bags of gold."
Amukelo felt a pang of frustration. His funds, though not insignificant, were far from enough to cover such expenses. Borrowing a horse seemed a temporary solution that would deplete his savings, leaving him vulnerable to unforeseen expenses. Purchasing one outright was even less feasible; it would require months of relentless questing just to gather the necessary capital. Either way, time was not on his side.
He mulled over the possibilities, his mind racing to find an alternative. 'How am I going to make this work?'
Seeing the concern on Amukelo's face, Versted offered a reassuring smile. "There is another way," he suggested, his tone lighter. "If you offer protection to a merchant like me during travel, you could avoid most of the costs. In fact, you might even get no costs at all. This way, you could save up some gold for a horse along the way, and the journey wouldn't take longer than three months, give or take."
Amukelo's eyes lit up with renewed hope. The idea was appealing—an opportunity to both save money and potentially shorten his journey. However, a lingering doubt gnawed at him. "But how do I find a merchant who wants to travel to Gathe? You said this city is very far," he asked, his voice reflecting the skepticism that this solution might also be out of reach.
Versted waved away his concern with a confident smile. "Don't worry about that. I have connections, and I'll ask around. Merchants talk, and I'm sure we can find someone heading that way. You'd be surprised how many people are looking for reliable protection on these roads."
As they approached the gates of Ansford, the town's imposing wooden walls loomed closer, a reassuring sign that they were nearing safety. The dirt road transitioned to cobblestones as they reached the gatehouse, where two guards stood at attention, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of the cart laden with supplies—and prisoners.
"Halt!" one of the guards commanded, stepping forward with his hand raised. "What's your business in Ansford?"
Versted brought the cart to a stop and spoke in a calm, respectful tone. "Just a humble merchant, returning from a trip. But as you can see, we've had a bit of trouble on the road." He gestured to the bandits, now groaning softly as they began to regain consciousness.
The guards exchanged glances, their suspicion giving way to recognition as they took a closer look at the captives. One of the guards, a younger man with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped closer to inspect the prisoners. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the bandit leader. "They were troubling us for quite a while," he said, turning to his companion with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction.
The older guard, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek, nodded grimly. "You've done us a service, bringing these scum in. They've been causing trouble around these parts for too long." He looked at Versted and Amukelo with newfound respect. "If you hand them over to us, we'll save you the trouble of delivering them for bounty yourselves."
Amukelo exchanged a glance with Versted, silently agreeing that this was the best course of action. Dealing with the bandits themselves would be a hassle, and the guards were better equipped to handle their custody. Versted nodded to the guards. "Alright then. We'll leave them in your hands."
The grizzled guard motioned for them to wait as he signaled for additional guards to come and take the prisoners into custody. "It'll just be a moment," he said. "We'll bring your reward to you here."
As Versted and Amukelo stepped aside, they watched as the guards began to offload the bound bandits from the cart, the criminals too dazed and beaten to offer any resistance.
After some time, the guards returned, carrying a small pouch of coins. The grizzled veteran handed it to Versted, nodding in acknowledgment of the captured bandits. "Twenty gold coins," the guard said gruffly.
Versted accepted the pouch with a brief nod, then turned to Amukelo, extending the prize towards him. Amukelo hesitated, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Are you sure?" he asked, glancing at the coins. "We transported them on your cart and used your ropes."
Versted smiled warmly, shaking his head. "If not for you, I would have lost everything today. This is the least I can do."
Amukelo accepted the coins. "Thank you," he said sincerely, pocketing the money.
With the business at the gates concluded, they passed through into Ansford. The town bustled with life, even as the day waned into evening. The streets were cobbled and narrow, winding between buildings that ranged from simple wooden structures to more ornate stone establishments. Lanterns hung from iron brackets, casting a warm, inviting glow over the town.
Merchants were still plying their trades, the last of the day's shoppers haggling over prices. Children played in the streets, their laughter mingling with the distant strains of music drifting from open windows. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and the earthy aroma of burning wood from the hearths within.
Versted led the way with confidence, navigating the bustling streets with ease. "You must be tired after everything," Versted remarked, glancing at Amukelo. "Do you know where you'll be staying tonight?"
Amukelo shook his head, still taking in the surroundings. "I don't," he admitted. "Do you have any recommendations?"
Versted nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I know a good place. It's a small inn, quiet and comfortable, and reasonably priced. It's also close to a pub where I'll be every evening, so if you need anything or if I hear anything about merchants heading to Gathe, you'll know where to find me."
They continued through the winding streets until they arrived at a quaint inn nestled between a small tailor's shop and a bustling pub. The inn was modest, with a wooden sign swinging gently above the door, depicting a painted moon and star. Soft light spilled from the windows, illuminating the street in a cozy, inviting glow.
Versted gestured toward the inn. "This is it. You should find it comfortable enough."
Amukelo nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. I'll meet you at the pub once I've settled in."
Versted gave a friendly nod. "I'll be in the pub when you're ready. And don't worry—I'll ask around about Gathe. If anyone's heading that way, I'll let you know."
With that, Versted turned toward the pub, disappearing into its warm, inviting depths, while Amukelo entered the inn. Inside, the innkeeper greeted him with a polite nod, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Amukelo rented a room for the night. The room was small but clean, with a sturdy bed, a small table, and a single chair. A window overlooked the bustling street below, where the town's energy continued unabated.
Amukelo dropped his backpack onto the bed and began unpacking his belongings. His equipment was worn, showing signs of the arduous journey he had undertaken. His clothes were frayed, his armor scratched and dented. Most concerning to him were the items he carried that had once belonged to his friends. Thankfully, despite the wear and tear of his own gear, these precious mementos had remained unscathed, and his blue clothes were also unscratched. He carefully placed them on the table, feeling a deep sense of relief.
Once his belongings were in order, Amukelo decided to head to the Adventurers' Association to collect the reward for the Landwyrm trophy. He considered bringing his sword but decided against it. The last thing he wanted was to draw unnecessary attention to himself. Leaving the sword in his room, he exited the inn and stepped back into the lively streets.
The town was still bustling with activity, even as the evening settled in. People moved with purpose, finishing their errands or heading to taverns and inns for the night. Amukelo asked a few passersby for directions, and soon enough, he found his way to the Adventurers' Association, a large, well-maintained building near the town center.
The association's entrance was marked by a grand archway, with a carved emblem of a sword and shield prominently displayed above. Inside, the building was spacious, with a high ceiling supported by sturdy wooden beams. The main hall was busy, filled with adventurers of all ranks—some chatting in groups, others poring over maps and quest boards.
Amukelo approached the counter, where a woman with a sharp gaze and a friendly demeanor was attending to the needs of the adventurers. She looked up as he approached, her eyes briefly scanning him with professional curiosity. Amukelo placed the cloth-wrapped trophy on the counter, carefully unwrapping it to reveal the Landwyrm's head.
The woman's eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight. "Did you defeat that yourself?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and admiration.
Amukelo nodded silently, his expression calm.
"Wow, that's amazing," she said, clearly impressed. "Please wait a moment, I'll hand you the prize in a moment."
As she turned to consult the bounty records, Amukelo stood at the counter.