The Free Holds sprawled before Kael and Mareth like a wild and untamed land, its rolling hills dotted with clusters of ramshackle settlements and dense forests that seemed to stretch endlessly. The stories Kael had heard painted it as a refuge for outlaws, misfits, and those seeking freedom from the suffocating rules of the kingdoms. Now, standing at the border of this infamous region, Kael couldn't suppress the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest.
"It doesn't look so bad," Mareth said, though her tone betrayed uncertainty. She pointed to a distant settlement, smoke rising lazily from its chimneys. "We'll head there first. See if we can find food and information."
Kael nodded, adjusting the strap of his satchel. "Let's just hope they're friendlier than the stories suggest."
The village they approached was little more than a cluster of weathered wooden buildings, surrounded by crude fences and watchtowers. As they entered, Kael noticed the wary stares of the locals, their eyes tracking every step he and Mareth took. A group of children playing near a well stopped their game, retreating to their parents at the sight of the newcomers.
"Not exactly a warm welcome," Kael muttered.
"Keep your head down," Mareth replied, her voice low. "We're strangers here. Let's not give them a reason to notice us more than they already have."
They made their way to a small tavern at the center of the village. The sign above the door swung in the wind, the painted letters spelling "The Rusted Axe." Inside, the dimly lit room smelled of ale and roasted meat. The patrons were a mix of rough-looking men and women, their conversations falling silent as Kael and Mareth entered.
A burly man behind the counter raised an eyebrow. "Travelers, huh? Haven't seen new faces here in a while."
"We're just passing through," Mareth said quickly, pulling Kael toward an empty table. "Looking for a place to rest and maybe some supplies."
The man nodded, though his gaze lingered on them for a moment longer. "A place to rest, you can have. Supplies… well, depends on what you've got to trade."
Mareth glanced at Kael, who fumbled to open his satchel. He pulled out a small pouch of coins—the last remnants of their life in Brinhold. The man's eyes flicked to the coins and then back to Kael, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
"We'll talk," the man said, turning back to his work.
As they waited, Kael couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on a woman seated in the far corner. She was dressed in dark leather, her hood pushed back to reveal sharp features and piercing green eyes. She watched them with open curiosity, a faint smile curling her lips.
"Mareth," Kael whispered, nudging his sister. "That woman over there. She's been staring at us since we walked in."
Mareth turned her head slightly, her expression tightening. "Stay calm. Maybe she's just curious."
The woman rose from her seat and began to approach, her movements fluid and confident. Kael tensed, his mind racing with potential escape routes. She stopped at their table, leaning casually against a nearby post.
"You don't look like you belong here," she said, her voice smooth and laced with amusement. "Passing through, are we?"
"What's it to you?" Mareth asked, her tone defensive.
The woman chuckled. "Relax. I'm not here to make trouble. Name's Lira. I'm… let's call it a professional interest in newcomers."
"And what profession would that be?" Kael asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice.
"The kind that knows when someone's on the run," Lira replied, her green eyes locking onto Kael's. "You've got the look of someone with a lot more on their shoulders than they know how to carry."
Kael felt a flicker of panic. "We're just travelers. Nothing more."
"Sure you are," Lira said, smirking. She straightened and crossed her arms. "Look, I don't care who you are or what you've done. But if you're planning to stay here for more than a few hours, you might want someone who knows how things work around here. Someone like me."
Mareth frowned. "And why would you help us?"
"Because," Lira said, her tone suddenly serious, "you're going to need it. The Free Holds aren't as free as their name suggests."
Kael exchanged a glance with Mareth. They didn't trust Lira, but they also didn't have the luxury of refusing help. After a long pause, Kael nodded. "All right. But if this is some kind of trick…"
Lira grinned. "Relax, kid. You're not worth the trouble it'd take to double-cross you."
As the day wore on, Lira guided them through the village, pointing out key locations and explaining the unspoken rules that governed life in the Free Holds. Kael listened intently, his initial mistrust of Lira slowly giving way to cautious curiosity. She seemed to know everyone and everything, her sharp wit and charm disarming even the most hardened villagers.
By the time night fell, Kael and Mareth found themselves in a small, drafty room above the tavern. Exhaustion weighed heavy on them, but the events of the day left little room for rest.
"Do you think we can trust her?" Kael asked, staring at the cracked ceiling.
Mareth was silent for a moment before replying. "I don't know. But we don't have much choice."
Kael nodded, his thoughts drifting to the power that had saved them at the crossroads. He could still feel it, a faint hum just beneath the surface of his consciousness. It frightened him, but it also felt… right. Like a part of him he was only beginning to understand.
As sleep finally claimed him, Kael's last thought was a simple one: They were far from safety, but for the first time, they had a direction.