The sharp cry of the eagle echoed through the mountains, reverberating off the cliffs and weaving through the thick canopy of the forest. The griffin, majestic and wild, let out a roar that was almost joyful. It lowered its massive head, and with surprising gentleness, pressed its beak against the chest of the man standing before it.
Leon, still breathless from their escape, looked up in confusion. The griffin's eyes, full of an intelligence he hadn't expected, held a strange, complex mix of emotions. He could almost feel the unspoken words in the beast's gaze.
"What… what are you doing?" Leon asked instinctively, though he knew it was pointless. The griffin couldn't answer him with words, yet its actions spoke louder than any language.
The enormous creature shifted its weight, turning slowly, its great wings rustling softly. It began to walk away, each step heavy and deliberate, leaving deep imprints in the soft earth. When it reached the edge of the forest, it paused and turned back one last time. It let out a soft, almost mournful chirp, a sound that seemed like a farewell.
And then, with a swish of its tail, the griffin disappeared into the dense trees.
Leon stood frozen, staring after it, his heart tightening. Was it really leaving?
For a fleeting moment, he had imagined something different. He had dreamed of a partnership, a bond between man and beast that would carry him to the skies. Together, they would have soared, Leon as a legendary Griffin Rider, achieving feats that others could only dream of. He had even named it: Deathclaw.
But Deathclaw had chosen the wild.
Leon sighed, shaking his head to clear the daydream. Even if the griffin had stayed, what then? He couldn't possibly keep such a creature. How could he feed it? A beast of that size probably devoured enough food in one meal to bankrupt him. Without vast wealth or resources, there was no way to support such a magnificent creature. The wilderness, for all its dangers, was still the griffin's domain, its true home, where it could live freely.
With a lingering glance toward the forest, Leon turned back to his companions, Brandon and Liam. The sight was a sobering reminder of their reality. The three of them were little more than walking shadows of their former selves: filthy, unkempt, and ragged. Their hair was tangled, their faces smeared with dirt, and their clothes... or what was left of them, hung in tatters. Liam's chainmail, though still hanging on, was more rust than armor now. The rest of them had lost most of their clothing during their frantic escape, reduced to wearing torn linen pants that were barely holding together.
Brandon limped slightly, his foot wrapped in old mercenary boots. Leon and Liam, however, had no such luxury. Their feet were bare, calloused from weeks of traveling without shoes, hardened against the rocky paths and rough terrain.
They needed to get back to civilization. Fast. If they spent any more time in the wilderness, they'd soon forget what it felt like to be human.
Leon's hand drifted to his belt, where the small leather pouch hung. He checked it, feeling the weight of the few silver coins inside; coins they had taken from a mercenary along the way. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to buy some essentials, maybe even get them a meal that wasn't foraged from the forest.
"We should head for that village," Leon said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but the urgency was clear. "I'm not even sure if we're out of Kantadar yet."
The others nodded, and without another word, they began to make their way down the mountain. The forest thinned as they descended, the dense trees giving way to patches of open land. Their path was smooth for once; no predators, no unexpected ambushes. It felt strange to walk without the constant tension of danger hanging over them.
After what felt like hours, they reached the outskirts of a small village, nestled at the edge of a vast stretch of farmland. The air here was different; warmer, more alive. The distant sound of livestock and the sight of tilled earth filled the group with a quiet sense of relief. Human life. Civilization. It had been so long since they had seen it.
Leon inhaled deeply, the smell of the soil and crops mingling with the cool air of the forest. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he allowed himself to relax. They had made it.
"Let's stick to the usual plan. I'll head into the village first," Brandon said, glancing toward the distant rooftops. His expression was serious, his voice low. "If we're still in the Kingdom of Kantadar, you two need to stay hidden. Don't even think about coming in if you don't know Uriah."
Leon nodded, but before he could respond, he noticed Liam fiddling with his chainmail, starting to take it off. "Hold on," Leon said, raising a hand to stop him. "Wearing that bloody, torn-up armor will just cause more trouble for Brandon. We don't need to draw unnecessary attention."
Liam hesitated, then nodded, letting the chainmail fall back into place with a sigh. It clanked softly, the sound carrying a hint of exhaustion from their long journey. Leon, without further delay, slipped off his belt and handed it to Brandon, along with his pouch of coins and the dwarf-forged steel sword. "Take these. I'm not sure what the customs are like around here, but it's better to have some protection, especially if you're walking in alone."
Brandon took the items with a nod, his eyes lingering on the well-crafted sword. "This should help," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips before he set off down the path toward the village.
Leon and Liam stayed behind, retreating into the cover of the trees, watching Brandon disappear over the ridge. Time passed slowly. The sun crept higher in the sky, its heat pressing down on them, and with each passing minute, worry began to gnaw at Leon's mind. What if something had gone wrong? What if they were still in Kantadar's territory and Brandon had been caught?
Just as Leon was about to suggest going after him, a figure appeared in the distance. Brandon was walking back, his arms full of bundles. Even from afar, they could see his broad smile. "Come on out!" he called, his voice carrying a cheerful tone. "It's safe!"
Leon and Liam exchanged relieved glances, emerging from their hiding spot and trotting over to meet him. As they drew closer, they saw that Brandon had not only returned safely, but had also managed to get his hands on several new sets of clothes and shoes, as well as bread, cheese, and a water skin bundled up with the garments.
"The villagers are Feru, like us," Brandon said, his grin wide. "We're out of Kantadar, finally. We've crossed into the County of Kossos, southwest in the Kingdom of Orland. The village is called Selva, and it's under the rule of a baron named Farolis."
Leon felt the tension leave his body, relief flooding through him. They were safe. Truly safe.
Brandon handed out the clothes, shoes, and food to his companions, the weariness in their eyes momentarily lifting. "I asked around, and there's a small river not far from here," he continued. "We can go there to wash up and change. No more looking like savages."
Leon grinned. "That sounds like a plan."
They ate as they walked, tearing into the bread and cheese with hunger that only weeks of hardship could create. The familiar taste of food that wasn't scavenged or stolen filled their mouths, lifting their spirits. Laughter came easier now, their voices light for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
When they reached the river, the three of them wasted no time. Stripping off their filthy rags, they waded into the cool water, scrubbing away the dirt and grime that had accumulated over weeks of running and hiding. The river, crystal clear and cold, felt like a balm to their battered bodies.
Leon emerged first, shaking droplets from his hair, feeling reborn. He used a rough piece of cloth to dry himself, then dressed in the new linen shirt Brandon had brought, pulling on the sturdy leather shoes. It felt good; better than he had expected, to wear clean clothes again, to feel the weight of his sword and belt settled around his waist. As he stood by the river, smoothing his hair in the reflection, he finally felt like a person again, not just a survivor.
They sat beneath a tree, counting what remained of their coin. Out of the eighteen silver pieces they had started with, only eight remained. There were also seven small silver coins, which Brandon explained were the local currency, called "dirs."
"In Orland, they use four types of coins," Brandon said, distributing the remaining money. "Copper cents, silver dirs, silver nalers, and gold crowns. It's a decimal system, and the value increases tenfold between each type."
Leon frowned as he fingered the Kantadar coins. "What about our money? Will they take it?"
Brandon sighed. "They will, but only at eighty percent of the value. The villagers here weren't too keen on giving full worth for Kantadar's currency."
Leon shrugged. "Better than nothing. We'll manage."
The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the river. For the first time in days, they could relax, knowing they were no longer in danger. There was still a long road ahead, but at least, for now, they had food, clothes, and a bit of coin to get them through.
And they were free.
As Leon counted out the coins, the realization hit him: buying just three sets of clothes, pants, and shoes had cost him a small fortune. Nine Kantardar silver coins, to be precise, which translated to seven nare and two dir in the local currency. On top of that, the three leather water bags and a small amount of food added another dir to the bill.
Leon sighed, mentally calculating what he had left. His purse, once heavy with silver, now felt alarmingly light, holding the equivalent of only 7.1 silver nalers. He turned the pouch over in his hands, weighing it as if the diminished weight might reveal something more. Although he wasn't familiar with the exact prices in this unfamiliar village, something in his gut told him they'd been swindled.
"Figures," Leon thought. "It's only natural to be overcharged in a strange place. I should consider myself lucky this is the only kind of robbery I'm dealing with here."
His mind drifted back to Earth, to the overpriced souvenirs and overpriced street food at tourist traps. Compared to that, this wasn't so bad. At least here, in this remote corner of the world, he was only losing money, not his life.
After carefully stowing the silver coins in his belt, Leon glanced at the knight's sword hanging at his waist. The gleaming weapon was a relic of nobility, undoubtedly worth a small fortune. If things got desperate, he mused, he could sell it in the city. It would fetch enough to cover food, clothing, and shelter for him and his companions for quite some time. But here, in the outskirts of a poor village, the sword was too valuable and far too dangerous to let go for a meager sum. He'd need to find the right buyer in the city, someone trustworthy who wouldn't try to cheat him.
As they rested under the shade of a large oak, Leon, Brandon, and Liam felt the tension of the day slip away. They'd been on the move for so long, running from one danger to another. Here, in the quiet of the countryside, fatigue began to settle in. Liam yawned, stretching his arms lazily.
"We need to figure out where we're sleeping tonight," Leon murmured, scanning the horizon. His mind wandered between thoughts of shelter and the dwindling coins in his pouch.
Suddenly, Liam stiffened. He reached over and tapped Leon's shoulder, his voice low and wary. "Someone's coming."
Leon snapped to attention, instantly alert. He followed Liam's gaze toward the village, where a group of men was making their way toward them. They weren't just out for a casual stroll. The way they moved, with purpose, made it clear they had business with Leon and his companions. The men were young and rugged, dressed in simple villager's clothes, but their weapons, daggers and short swords, hung ominously at their sides.
Leon rose slowly, gripping his sword. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. These men, though not soldiers, carried an air of menace. Were they mere farmers, or something more?
"What do we do?" Brandon whispered, his voice shaky. "Should we run?"
Leon's brow furrowed, anger flaring up inside him. He had run far enough, from the Kantadar soldiers, from the wild mountain bears, and even from demons and undead. He'd fled through forests and mountains, crossing tens of thousands of miles to escape danger. Now, after all that, should he really turn tail and flee from a few villagers?
He clenched his jaw. "Run? Why should we?" he muttered, his voice edged with defiance. "We haven't done anything wrong. Running now would only make us look suspicious, like we've got something to hide. That'll just invite more trouble."
His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. These men were nothing compared to the threats they had already faced. Goblins, bears, and worse, this ragtag group of villagers didn't stand a chance.
"Let's see what they want first," Leon said, his eyes fixed on the approaching figures. He was ready for anything.