The clouds hadn't changed, and it seemed Kael could spend another night in the cold but at least in the dry. In a few hours, the sun would sink behind the dark waves of the sea, and the night would lay over the barren landscape like a heavy cloth. The smell of horsehair and sweat rose from the wagon ahead as the draft animals snorted and continued onward. Now and then, he heard the soft splashing of water dripping from somewhere on the wagon as the caravan slowly moved forward. The merchants had begun to speak softly among themselves.
Thus the hours passed. And as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the sea's horizon, the caravan also came to a halt. They had decided to set up camp here for the night. The place was nothing more than a flat, barren clearing, bordered by silent shrubs and stunted wind-bent trees. The desolate coast allowed no hope to grow.
However, they wouldn't reach Sheshir in time if they decided to keep moving. The animals were exhausted, and if they set out early tomorrow, they would arrive before midday. Kael would finally be in Sheshir.
Then there was no turning back.
Kael remained seated while the merchants began setting up their tents and removing the bridles from the horses. He stared toward the dark sea, listening to the dull roar of the waves.
He is coming. Kael briefly closed his eyes, deep wrinkles forming on his forehead.
Again, the cool breeze brushed his cheeks. Today's tinkering with Fred's scale had offered him a brief distraction, but the doubts always returned as soon as silence enveloped him. They pressed upon him like dark clouds that smothered even the strongest rays of the sun. But he knew he had no right to complain. He had imposed this mission upon himself, and he would fulfill it, no matter the cost.
Kael took a deep breath, the fresh cold filling his lungs and breaking his chain of thought. The brooding pulled him into a vortex of helplessness, and he knew he had to move before it swallowed him completely. With firm resolve, he jumped off the wagon and went to help the first merchant he saw set up his tent.
Before long, the camp was set up. Seven simple tents stood arranged in a circle, while the wagons acted as an improvised wall against the wind that whistled over the cliffs from the sea. Their wooden frames creaked softly under the burden of the salty wind, but they provided the necessary protection.
The fire in the middle of the circle of tents finally flickered and crackled after taking some time to get going. None of the merchants had pitched their tents directly opposite the sea or the fire - they knew too well that the smoke would quickly invade the tents there, a lesson they had all learned on previous journeys.
Kael, who didn't carry his own tent, had only his worn backpack, which he had left on the wagon. The little he possessed was carefully stowed inside - a few pieces of provisions, a knife, and some useful items he had brought from home. Since he didn't have a tent, he was told he could sleep with Fred tonight.
At the roadside, one of the mercenaries sat on a wagon, keeping watch with crossed arms. His gaze swept over the wide, open landscape. There was little cause for concern, as the area was so barren and flat that any threat, whether from bandits or wild animals, would have been visible from afar.
Some of the merchants had already started eating. Kael watched as they took dry bread in hand and chewed on it while the flickering fire illuminated their faces. Some even managed to cut themselves small slices of pork sausage. The simple meal they had acquired at the last stop in the village was enough to keep them warm and fill their hungry stomachs.
Kael himself leaned against one of the carts, a little apart from the group. He had already eaten but felt the cold slowly gnawing through his coat. The flickering heat of the fire called to him, promised the cozy warmth he craved at the moment. Slowly, the desire stirred in him to snuggle closer to the fire to free himself from the damp chill of the night - even if it meant listening to all sorts of nonsense again.
But the longing for warmth ultimately outweighed his desire for solitude. Kael knew his bones needed some relaxation after being jostled around on the wagon almost the entire day. So he approached the fire and sat down with the merchants and mercenaries. The heat was immediately noticeable, and the cold that had crept into his bones began to gradually recede. It smelled of burning wood; the crackling flames mingled with the murmuring of the men.
"…I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time before House Jranad regains control over Sheshir," declared Hassan, a burly merchant with a bushy beard, passionately waving a piece of bread in his hand.
"The boy has killed the dragon! Again! The goddess herself has recognized him as a Runecarrier. With that power behind him, Lord Saranis will be forced to his knees."
"Oh, please," called Hako, the lean merchant crouching by the fire, warming his hands. "House Saranis fought for the city with blood and sweat, and they won't give it up so easily. You know Lord Saranis - he would rather die than give up Sheshir. The young Jranad would have to bring the dragon personally to Sheshir and let it fly over the city for Lord Saranis to even consider surrendering."
"And what good would that do?" grumbled one of the older merchants as he chewed a piece of bread. "Then there would just be another war between the two houses. And war… war is bad for business."
Hako laughed dryly and rubbed his hands as the fire cast flickering shadows on his face. "Bad for business? Maybe for you, old man, but for those who know how to play the game, war is a gold mine."
He leaned forward as if to share a secret. "I still remember the last big conflict between the Great Houses. While others were scared out of their wits, I sent cart after cart full of weapons and provisions in both directions. The soldiers pay, the lords pay, and the peasants have nothing to eat, so they buy from me as well."
A murmur went through the circle; some merchants shook their heads while others seemed intrigued.
"Pah," the older merchant scoffed, shaking his head. "That might work for you, but for most of us? People hoard their coins, save because they're afraid of the future. Who buys spices or fine fabrics when there's a risk that everything will be in flames tomorrow? And lo and behold, everything is in flames."
Hako shrugged. "That's the difference between you and me. You only think about your daily business. But a clever merchant knows that in times of chaos, the demand for necessities explodes. Not everyone can feel safe. Some are forced to buy, no matter how expensive it gets."
Kael, who had been silently following the conversation, raised his eyebrows slightly. Hako was clever, he had to admit.
I would have sold information, Kael thought. That would have been even more valuable. Or false information.
Hako snorted as Hassan praised the young Jranad to the skies. "Wise, strategic." He shook his head and continued warming his hands by the fire. "I'm telling you, he's nothing more than another spoiled noble trying to adorn himself with old stories and traditions."
Hassan glared at him, but before he could reply, their eyes met, and both merchants fell silent. A tense, silent exchange hung in the air. Then Hako's gaze suddenly wandered to Kael, and a crooked grin spread across his face.
"What do you think, stray?" he asked casually. "Care to enlighten us with your wise thoughts?"
Kael said nothing, his eyes remaining fixed on the flames. He had no intention of getting involved in the discussion or amplifying any of the stories, no matter how small his influence might be. Silence was often the best answer, especially when one didn't want to lose control over the conversation.
"He'll talk when it comes to scales," called Fred from the background, laughing softly.
Kael shot him a somewhat angry glance as Fred chuckled quietly, the crackling fire reflecting in his eyes. Kael finally sighed, let the moment pass, and raised his head.
"Jranad or Saranis…" he said. "In the end, it's all the same, isn't it? Since you're seeking profit, you seek the power of the one who has the better stories on his side. And at the moment, that's probably Jranad."
Hako's grin faded, and Hassan nodded slowly in agreement as he pondered Kael's words.
"Profit, you say?" Hako asked sharply, realizing he was losing control of the conversation. "And what noble goal are you pursuing?"
Kael gave him no clear answer. This question had been posed to him in various forms over the past few days, but no one needed to know what he was really up to. "I'm looking for something in Sheshir," he said simply, quickly adding to divert the topic from himself: "But regarding the actual topic… if you're asking for my opinion, Jranad didn't slay any dragon."
His provocative statement caused several heads to turn toward him in surprise. Even Hassan was no longer grinning.
"Are you calling me a fraud?" he growled, visibly annoyed.
Kael shook his head calmly. "No. You just shared what you heard, passed on the story. But," he looked directly at Hassan, "where did you actually pick up this story? No one else seems to have heard of it, at least not before you."
Hassan crossed his arms and replied grimly, "The merchants who passed us today from Sheshir told me."
Kael nodded. "So, no official bard. But the problem isn't the authenticity of the source but the core of the story itself. There's a simple reason why Jranad couldn't have killed a real dragon."
Hassan stared at him suspiciously. "And that would be?"
"There are no dragons," Kael replied calmly.
For a moment, there was an awkward silence, then both Hassan and Hako burst into roaring laughter. Others around the fire chuckled or laughed softly. "Oh yeah? No dragons?" Hassan wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "And why has the goddess recognized every Jranad as a dragon slayer so far?"
Kael shook his head again, his expression unchanged. "Because she is the goddess of stories. But her stories don't come out of nowhere. Your so-called dragon was probably nothing more than a chicken before the goddess made it into an oversized, fearsome chicken. It's no wonder it could be mistaken for a dragon. If everyone believes it's a dragon, then Lord Jranad becomes a dragon slayer. But a true, real dragon - born as a dragon? They don't exist."
For a moment, silence hung over the campfire. The flames crackled softly as Kael's words lingered in the air. Some of the merchants seemed thoughtful, their gazes fixed on the fire as if searching for answers there. But it didn't take long before Hako broke the silence. He laughed dryly and shook his head.
"A clever boy, but far too young to understand such things." He slapped his thighs and grinned around. "Dragons are real stories, stray. You just have to wait for the right moment, and then you'll see for yourself."
Hassan, who had remained calm until then, nodded in agreement and let out a deep, throaty laugh. "He'll learn," he chimed in, "when he's been on the road longer. The world is bigger than you think, boy."
The others by the fire followed suit, laughing softly as if the topic were settled.
Kael merely shrugged, offering no further justification. That wasn't his task. He had said what he wanted to say. But then something happened that surprised him.
Fred, who had until then only sat on the sidelines observing the conversation silently, raised his head and looked at Kael with a serious expression.
"What about Saidan and Nurakahn?" he asked quietly, his voice cutting through the others' laughter like a knife.
"Are they also just made up?"
Kael felt a sudden heaviness descend over the campfire. The wind picked up, causing the flames to dance wildly, and a shiver ran down his spine. The mood changed abruptly. The heat of the fire was suddenly no longer warm but threatening.
"No," Kael answered calmly, without hesitation. He looked directly at Fred, the flames reflecting in his eyes.
"They are real."