In the cramped cave, three youths sat cross-legged on the ground, illuminated by the flickering firelight, discussing their next course of escape.
"Marmore County is here…"
Azerian used a stone to roughly sketch a few outlines on the ground and then pointed to the northeastern edge of the bottom-left contour. "Based on the route that prison wagon took, we're still relatively close to the border. Even if we take a detour, we could probably reach the Serian Kingdom in six or seven days. But we must avoid soldiers, bandits, and wild beasts along the way."
Leon suddenly interjected, "I don't think heading east is a good idea right now."
Azerian and Lohak both turned to him in confusion.
"Why not?" Lohak asked, puzzled.
Leon, whose soul came from Earth, didn't share the same deep attachment to the Serian Kingdom as the other two. He had noticed something they overlooked.
Pointing to the border line drawn on the ground, Leon explained, "The war has already begun. Since the Kantadal army has taken Rolandar, who knows how much of the western region of the kingdom has also been invaded? Heading back to a place that may already be under their control would be even more dangerous."
"..." Azerian was taken aback. Despite being bright for his age, he was still just a boy and found it hard to consider the broader picture.
Leon continued, "I don't know how far the Kantadal army has advanced. If they've already pushed deep into Serian territory, how much danger will we face just trying to get to the safer eastern regions? Unless you have distant relatives farther east worth risking everything for, heading back to a war-torn homeland doesn't seem much better than our current situation."
Hearing this, Lohak's gaze darkened. "Aside from my sister, all my family was killed by the Kantadal forces. Even if we return to Serian, I don't know where we'd go."
Azerian gave a bitter smile. "I have some relatives, but they probably wish I had died with my father in Rolandar."
Leon glanced at Azerian's self-deprecating expression, slightly surprised by the complexity of his emotions.
Azerian quickly regained his composure and asked, "So, where do you think we should go?"
After a brief pause, Leon pointed to the northern part of Azerian's sketched border and said, "I once heard from traveling merchants that the northern Orand Kingdom speaks the same language as us, right?"
Azerian nodded. As a somewhat educated noble's son, he was familiar with geography. "Not just the language. Historically, both Orand and Serian were established by our people. Though most of them don't follow the Sun and Prophet faith like we do."
Reassured by this, Leon proposed his idea. "Here's what I'm thinking: rather than risk heading east back to Serian, why don't we head north to Orand instead? After all, the Kantadal army wouldn't be insane enough to wage war on two kingdoms at once. Besides, most of the soldiers in this county have probably been deployed east to maintain the war effort. It's safer for us to head north now."
He then looked at his two companions. "What do you think?"
Azerian mulled it over for a while before nodding. "While Orand might not guarantee safety, it's definitely less risky than going east."
"I'll follow your lead," Lohak said gruffly, clearly lacking any better suggestions.
Having reached a consensus, the three finally had a goal and direction. Leon felt a slight relief, though only relatively so. While they had escaped their prison, their homeland was now under Kantadal occupation. With their families and homes lost, surviving in this dangerous, chaotic world meant facing hunger, disease, bandits, and wild beasts—threats no less perilous than soldiers' blades.
"How much food do we have left?" Leon asked.
"Just two pieces of hard bread," Lohak replied, glancing at the now-shrunken bundle of cloth. The dead mercenary clearly hadn't prepared for long journeys, leaving them with limited rations.
Leon gazed at the rain outside. "Once the rain stops, I'll try to catch something to eat."
"You know how to hunt?" Lohak asked, surprised.
"Yeah, my father was a hunter, and I learned from him as a kid. Catching small animals shouldn't be a problem. Too bad we don't have a bow." Leon recalled the hunting skills from his predecessor's memory, sighing with regret.
"Then it's up to you. All I'm good at is fighting," Lohak said, scratching his head. He seemed to remember something and handed over his arming sword. "Will this help? If you need it, take the sword. And my chainmail too. Honestly, taking down that guy was all your doing, so the stuff we stripped off him should be yours to distribute."
He turned to Azerian. "Right?"
Azerian didn't object, but he also held up his dagger. "I'm fine with that, but for hunting, Leon might need this more."
Leon nodded. A dagger was more useful than a sword for crafting hunting tools from branches.
As for distributing supplies, it wasn't a major concern. The three were now bound by their shared plight and trusted each other enough. Leon reasoned that weapons and armor should go to whoever could make the best use of them.
Despite having trained with various melee weapons in his past life, Leon knew that fighting on muddy terrain was far different from sparring on smooth gym floors. His experience might not translate well in real combat situations.
He asked, "Which of you is better with a sword?"
"I've studied swordsmanship but haven't had much combat experience," Azerian replied honestly, understanding Leon's considerations.
Lohak, on the other hand, thumped his chest. "I know how to fight with a sword. My father was a city guard sergeant, and I practically grew up in the barracks. When the Kantadal scum attacked the city, I was on the walls helping defend it until…." His voice trailed off, his eyes dimming. "Until my father sent me home to protect my mother and sister."
"Don't beat yourself up. That wasn't your fault," Leon said, pushing the arming sword back to Lohak along with the chainmail. "Since you're the most experienced in sword combat, you should keep these. It's better to concentrate our resources where they'll be most effective."
Then he turned to Azerian. "You keep the shield and dagger. If we're in danger, you'll have better protection and can assist Lohak in combat."
"Of course, I won't run off while you're fighting." Leon added with a playful shrug.
Azerian shook his head. "You're giving us everything. Even if you did run, it'd be justified."
Lohak nodded firmly. "Yeah, you've already saved our lives. If danger comes, you can run first. I won't blame you."
Leon smiled, saying nothing, and continued helping them inventory their belongings.
Apart from the helmet, chainmail, sword, dagger, and shield, the mercenary's ragged pouch contained a dozen silver coins—an unexpected fortune.
"If we find a settlement, we can use these coins to buy food and tools," Azerian suggested.
"But how can we trade without raising suspicion? We don't speak the local language," Leon pointed out.
"Don't worry. I actually speak some Urian, the Kantadal tongue," Azerian said, pointing to himself. "If the chance arises, I can handle it."
Thus, the three discussed their plans late into the night. The rain had eased, and they took turns keeping watch before finally drifting to sleep.
The next day, under clear skies, they left the cave and ventured into the forest in search of food. Fortune smiled upon them as they discovered a mountain stream.
Leon taught his companions to craft simple fish spears from branches. By midday, they managed to catch enough fish to satisfy their hunger.
After days of surviving on awful, hard rations, even plain roasted fish tasted like a feast. Hunger truly is the best seasoning.
In the afternoon, Leon set up a few rudimentary traps using pits, branches, and vines, baited with fish scraps. Although they only planned to stay one more night, any catch could lighten their burden on the journey ahead.
At night, while keeping watch near the cave entrance, Leon busied himself carving sharp-tipped wooden spears. Even the simplest weapons could offer some protection against wild animals.
Holding a newly sharpened spear, Leon's thoughts drifted to the light arrow he had conjured before—what was it called? Ah, Isha's Arrow.
Its power surpassed that of a rifle round. If he could wield it again, they'd have far less to fear from beasts or lone soldiers. Even if it left him unconscious, Lohak surely wouldn't abandon him.
Leon chuckled at his daydream.
Since that mysterious voice hadn't responded to his calls since, pinning hopes on such a miracle was futile. Once was already a blessing.
But who are you? He murmured inwardly while inspecting the spear's sharp point. The voice had been gentle, almost like a young girl's.
Of course, it could have been a kindhearted sorceress helping from afar.
The thought amused Leon, and he chuckled softly as he continued working.