As Nathan followed the alternative route outlined on his map, the terrain gradually grew rougher. The edge of the taiga forest loomed to his right, its dark expanse stretching out like an impenetrable wall. A narrow stream cut across his path, its waters murmuring softly as they danced over smooth stones. The sun dipped lower with each passing moment, gilding the world in hues of amber and crimson before threatening to surrender it to the encroaching darkness.
He pulled on the reins, slowing his horse as he contemplated his next move. The question weighed heavily on him: should he press on under the shroud of night, risking both exhaustion and unseen dangers, or should he set up camp and risk attracting whatever prowled these shadowed woods? The rumors of man-eating creatures lingered at the edges of his mind, their shadowy forms taking shape in his imagination. He glanced toward the treeline, its stillness unnervingly silent, and decided he'd rather not test fate by continuing.
With a resigned sigh, Nathan dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth by the stream's edge. He chose a spot a little farther from the water, where a patch of flattened grass offered just enough room for his small campsite. The air carried a chill that deepened as the sun slipped below the horizon. He set to work quickly, lighting a fire that crackled to life, casting flickering shadows against the darkening woods.
When the stars emerged in full splendor above him, Nathan decided to gather more wood from the forest's edge. The soft glow of his campfire remained a distant beacon as he ventured into the fringes of the trees. He moved carefully, his ears attuned to the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. Yet, despite the unnerving tales he'd heard, the forest carried no malice—only the faint hum of nocturnal life stirring in its depths.
Satisfied with his bundle of dry wood, he turned back toward camp. But as the fire came into view, he froze mid-step. Someone was there.
A figure hunched near the flames, their silhouette outlined in the flickering glow. Nathan dropped to a crouch, instinctively retreating into the cover of the trees. From this vantage point, he watched as the intruder rummaged through his belongings with unhurried movements, muttering to themselves in low tones. Their words were indistinct, an incoherent rumble like the growl of the stream.
The stranger eventually settled down, pulling a tattered cloak around their shoulders as they sat by his fire. They stretched their hands toward the warmth, entirely at ease—as though the camp were theirs to begin with.
Nathan's jaw tightened. The boldness of the act left him equal parts irritated and wary. He edged closer, keeping himself concealed behind a wide oak, but the stream running between him and the camp was an obstacle. Its waters glimmered under the starlight, the current fast enough to make crossing treacherous. Still, he couldn't simply wait and watch.
His eyes scanned the stream until they landed on a cluster of rocks that jutted above the water's surface. Carefully, he crept toward them, his steps soundless against the damp earth. With a deep breath to steady himself, he leaped onto the first stone. It wobbled slightly beneath his weight, but he held his balance, moving to the next.
The cool spray of the stream dampened his boots and cloak as he crossed, each leap calculated to avoid slipping into the icy current. The rush of water masked his movements, allowing him to approach unnoticed. By the time he reached the opposite bank, he was only a short distance from the camp.
He crouched low behind a cluster of shrubs, his gaze fixed on the intruder. They hadn't moved from their spot by the fire, their face obscured by the shadows of the hood they wore. Whoever they were, they appeared unarmed—or at least, no weapons were immediately visible. Nathan's hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger, debating whether to confront them directly or observe a little longer.
The stranger shifted, letting out a weary sigh as they poked at the fire with a stick. Their muttering grew louder, and though the words were still unintelligible, there was a note of frustration—or perhaps desperation—in their tone. Nathan's grip on his dagger tightened, his instincts urging caution even as his curiosity pulled him closer.
Nathan took a steadying breath as he crouched near the shrubs, his gaze fixed on the stranger by the fire. The rhythmic crackle of the flames filled the air, masking the soft sounds of his movements. After several moments of imagining every possible way to cross the remaining distance without drawing attention, he finally resolved to act.
In one fluid motion, he leapt over the last stretch of uneven ground, landing with the grace of a predator. The stranger remained oblivious, absorbed in their murmured monologue. Step by step, he crept closer, using the bonfire's lively pops and hisses to muffle the faint rustling of his boots. Each stride brought him nearer until he stood directly behind them. He could smell the faint, acrid scent of travel-worn leather mingling with the smoky air.
*****
With deliberate precision, he lunged forward. His gloved hand clamped firmly over their mouth, silencing them before they could utter a sound. His other hand drew his dagger from his belt pouch, the blade glinting menacingly in the firelight as he brought it to their neck.
"Don't move," he growled, his voice low and firm. "What are you doing here? Speak, and don't try anything foolish."
The stranger's body tensed beneath his grip, and he felt the sharp intake of breath against his palm. Slowly, he eased his hand away from their mouth, keeping the dagger at their throat to ensure compliance.
When they spoke, the voice that emerged was startlingly familiar—a calm, measured tone that immediately brought to mind the young woman from earlier, the one who had interrogated him near the forest entrance.
Nathan's brows furrowed in confusion, though he did not lower the blade. "You..." he muttered, studying her more closely now. Her hood slipped back slightly, revealing a face that confirmed his suspicions. "Why would an imperial knight—if that's truly what you are—be rummaging through a traveler's belongings like some common thief? Don't you have a better life than most in this empire?"
The woman sighed heavily, though her voice remained steady. "If you want answers, you'll have to lower your weapon," she said, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at the dagger poised near her throat.
Nathan hesitated. His instincts screamed caution, but the firelight flickered over her unarmed form, her words laced with neither fear nor malice. Still, he would not risk a careless move. "Throw away your weapon first," he ordered. "Then we'll talk."
She obliged, reaching slowly to unbuckle a sword from her belt and tossing it aside with a dull thud. Satisfied, Nathan lowered the dagger but kept it firmly in his grasp, ready to act at the slightest provocation.
With the immediate threat diffused, the woman exhaled deeply, rolling her shoulders as though shaking off the tension. "Fine," she began, her voice tinged with weariness. "Let's start over. My name is Amara—"
"Enough," Nathan interrupted sharply. "You're a thief. No amount of flowery words will change that.
The accusation sparked a flash of indignation in her eyes, and she straightened, bristling. "I'm not a thief," she snapped, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. "I only wanted enough money to send home—to feed my family, to keep us alive."
Nathan's expression remained impassive, but he gestured for her to explain further. The woman crossed her arms, her gaze hardening as she spoke. "I come from the central regions, where towns and cities are ruled by corrupt nobles who care for nothing but their own excesses. My town, in particular, is a cesspit of suffering—high taxes, pitiful wages, no hope of a future."
Her voice trembled slightly, though her defiance never wavered. "I've watched friends and neighbors starve, seen children begging in the streets while our so-called lords throw lavish feasts. Do you have any idea what that's like? To choose between feeding yourself or your sibling? To scrape together every coin and still come up short? You call me a thief, but what would you do in my place?"
Nathan regarded her in silence, the weight of her words settling over him like a shroud. Her story was not unique—he had heard whispers of similar tales before, stories of despair and injustice that echoed throughout the empire's farthest reaches. And yet, hearing it spoken with such raw conviction forced him to confront the stark reality of her plight.
"You masqueraded as an imperial knight," he said at last, his tone quiet but pointed. "Do you realize the risk you've taken? If you're caught, it won't be just starvation you face."
She let out a bitter laugh. "As if starving to death is any kinder a fate. At least this way, I have a chance—a slim one, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless. And if I can send even a fraction of what I take back to my family, then it's worth the risk."
Nathan studied her for a long moment, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his contemplative expression—What is this? Has the central region ever been this terrible before? But, if its true, then.