In the flickering shadows of a modest cave, three young men sat huddled around a campfire, the orange glow casting stark contrasts on their thoughtful faces. As they contemplated their precarious future, Brandon traced shapes onto the dusty floor with a small stone, outlining their makeshift map of escape.
"Marmore County is here," Brandon announced, his finger hovering over the northeastern edge of a crudely drawn circle in the lower left corner of the map. "Given the route of the prisoner escort we escaped from, this point is near the border. We could reach Serian in about six or seven days if we take a longer detour. However, we must stay vigilant to avoid not only the soldiers but also bandits and wild animals."
Leon, his brows furrowed in concern, cut in abruptly. "I'm not convinced heading east is wise right now."
Both Brandon and Liam turned towards him, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"Why would you say that?" Liam asked, clearly puzzled.
Leon pointed to the border line etched in the dirt. "The war has started. Kantadar's forces have taken Rolandar. Who knows how many other western regions they've overrun? It seems more perilous to head towards territory that could be under enemy control."
Brandon paused, his youthful face shadowed by doubt. Despite his intelligence, the broader implications of their situation had eluded him.
Leon continued, addressing his companions' visible distress, "We don't know the full extent of Kantadar's conquests. What if they've reached the heart of Serian? Imagine the dangers we'd face trying to push through to the east. Unless you have kin there who could shelter us, I doubt it's worth the risk."
Liam's eyes darkened, a somber tone in his voice. "Aside from my sister, Kantadar's troops killed all my family. Even if I make it back to Serian, I don't know where I'd go."
Hearing this, Brandon let out a bitter chuckle. "I have some relatives left, but they probably wish I'd perished with my father in Rolandar."
Caught off guard by Brandon's self-mockery, Leon gently urged, "So, what should our next move be?"
After a moment's hesitation, Leon drew their attention back to the map. "Before our capture, I heard from traveling merchants that the Kingdom of Orland to the north speaks our language, correct?"
Brandon, nodding, confirmed Leon's recollection. "Yes, and more than that, Orland and Serian share historical roots with our Feru people, although their beliefs diverge from ours in the Holy Sun and Prophet."
Emboldened by this affirmation, Leon laid out his proposal. "Rather than risk heading east back to Serian, why don't we seek refuge in Orland? The Kantadars can't possibly wage war on two fronts. Additionally, most of this county's forces have likely been deployed east. Our chances of a safer passage are higher to the north."
Leon looked to his friends for their thoughts.
Brandon mulled over it briefly before nodding. "While it's not guaranteed safe, heading to Orland definitely poses fewer risks than trying to return to an embattled Serian."
"I'll follow your lead," Liam added quietly, lacking any better alternative.
With a new direction set, a tenuous sense of purpose settled among them. Although the immediate danger of their escape had subsided, Leon's mind only relaxed marginally. The three of them faced a world brimming with just as many perils outside the cave; hunger, disease, bandits, wild beasts, as those they had already endured. But together, they at least had a plan, a direction, and a glimmer of hope.
Under the dim glow of their makeshift shelter, Leon broke the silence with a practical concern. "How much food do we have left?"
Liam grimaced as he rifled through a ragged parcel. "Just two pieces of dry bread." He shook the scant contents, remnants from a fallen mercenary ill-prepared for a long journey.
Leon peered outside where the relentless rain blurred the landscape. "Once it clears, I'll see if I can hunt us something."
Surprised, Liam raised his eyebrows. "You know how to hunt?"
Leon nodded, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "My father was a hunter. He taught me young. Catching small game shouldn't be a problem, though it's a shame we lack a bow and arrows." He sighed, remembering the skills ingrained in him from a different life.
"Well, the hunt's on you then. I'm only good in a fight," Liam admitted, scratching his head. A thoughtful pause later, he offered his sword to Leon. "Need this? And take my chainmail too. You earned a share when you took down that mercenary."
He glanced at Brandon for approval. "Right?"
Brandon, twirling a dagger in his hand, nodded in agreement. "I've no objections. But for hunting, Leon might find this dagger more useful."
Gratefully, Leon accepted the dagger, better suited for crafting snares and makeshift tools than a sword.
The trio had forged a bond of mutual trust through shared hardships, which simplified the division of their scant resources. Leon, reflecting on his past experiences with various weapons, doubted the effectiveness of his limited swordplay in real combat, particularly given the rugged terrain that differed vastly from the flat, predictable floors of his previous urban life.
Assessing the physical capabilities of his companions, Leon turned to the more immediate issue of armament. "Who here is best with a sword?"
Brandon responded modestly, "I've learned the forms, but lack real battle experience."
Liam thumped his chest, his tone tinged with a mix of pride and sorrow. "I can handle a sword. Grew up in the barracks. Defended the city walls against the Kantadar invaders until I had to leave..." His voice trailed off, clouded by the memory of a last order from his father, meant to safeguard his family.
Leon pushed the sword back towards Liam and handed him the armor lining. "You're the most practiced among us with a sword. It makes sense for you to wield it."
After securing their defense, Leon addressed Brandon, "Keep the shield and the long dagger. They'll serve you well in protecting yourself and backing up Liam."
With a light chuckle, Leon added, "And don't worry, I won't sneak off while you two are fighting."
Brandon, understanding the jest, shook his head. "If you're entrusting us with the weapons, then taking your chance to escape would only be fair." His smile eased the tension, reaffirming the solidarity among them as they prepared to face whatever lay outside the cave.
Luohak's voice was tinged with earnest gratitude as he spoke, "Yes, right, you have saved our lives. Should we be in any danger again, feel free to make your escape first. I wouldn't hold it against you."
Leon merely offered a wry smile in response, silently resuming his inventory of their scant possessions along with his companions.
Their collection was modest yet vital: a sturdy helmet, chain mail, a single-handed sword, a lengthy dagger, and a round shield. They also found everyday essentials like clothing and a water bottle tucked inside the tattered mercenary's bag. Surprisingly, nestled among these items were a dozen silver coins, an unexpected boon.
"If we happen across a decent settlement, these coins could buy us some much-needed food and tools," Brandon suggested, optimism threading his voice.
Leon's brow creased with concern. "But we don't speak the local tongue. How can we trade without drawing unwanted attention?"
Brandon tapped his chest confidently, "No worries there. I happen to speak Uriah, the language of the Kantardar people. If the opportunity arises, I can handle the transactions myself."
Their discussion stretched on until the patter of rain outside began to wane. The trio then settled into a rotating watch for the night, each catching snippets of rest.
By dawn, the weather had cleared, and they ventured from the cave into the woods in search of sustenance. Luckily, they stumbled upon a small mountain stream.
Leon, ever resourceful, instructed his companions on fashioning simple harpoons from branches. They spent the morning spearfishing, their efforts culminating in a return to the cave with their catch, ready to be cooked over a newly kindled fire.
After days of gnawing on barely palatable dry food blocks, the taste of freshly grilled fish, though unseasoned, was a heavenly reprieve. Hunger, indeed, made for the finest spice.
The afternoon saw Leon crafting small traps scattered throughout the forest. Using raw fish, earth pits, branches, rags, and vines, he set up snares in hopes of enhancing their provisions before their imminent departure.
As dusk crept over the horizon, Leon took up his place at the cave's entrance, not idly but busily whittling a wooden pole into a spear with his dagger. Even a basic weapon was essential for protection against any potential threats, wild beasts or otherwise.
Lost in his task, Leon's mind wandered to the Arrow of Isa, a fantastical creation far mightier than ordinary ammunition. Despite the toll it took on his body, its power was undeniable. Laughing softly to himself, he dismissed the fleeting thought of such improbable aid.
"The voice that day... what was it?" he mused aloud, thumbing the newly sharpened spear tip, contemplating whether a transient spell or a mysterious ally had intervened on their behalf.
With a chuckle, Leon shook off his reverie. After all, such wonders were rare, and he was already fortunate to have experienced one. Whatever the source, it had been a fleeting miracle, unlikely to recur. Now, it was back to reality, preparing for whatever lay ahead with the tools and allies he had.