Back at Braelor's Rest, the morning after Kim's departure dawned with a muted anxiety. [[Marga]], discovering his empty bedroll during the pre-dawn rounds, felt a knot tighten in her stomach. It wasn't just that an orphan had run off – it had happened before. But Kim… Kim was different. Silent, observant, unsettlingly self-possessed even as a child. There was a _weight_ to him, a stillness that belied something profound beneath the surface.
She gathered [[Aldric]], [[Lirien]], and [[Mira]] by the hearth after a subdued breakfast of thin gruel. The other children, sensing the shift in atmosphere, huddled closer, their usual morning clamor replaced by nervous whispers.
"Kim is gone," Marga stated simply, her voice rough. "He left during the night."
Aldric's eyes widened, a mixture of awe and apprehension in their depths. "Run away? Just like that?" He'd often dreamed of escape, of adventures beyond the orphanage walls, but Kim… Kim seemed so…unmoved by the world around him. Running away felt out of character.
Lirien's lower lip trembled. "Maybe…maybe he was taken?" she whispered, her voice laced with fear. "By… by shadow things? Like in the stories?" Lirien, prone to flights of fancy, often populated the world with unseen dangers lurking just beyond the firelight.
Mira, ever pragmatic, shook her head. "He left. On purpose. I felt it last night. A…shifting." Mira's sensitivity to subtle energies made her pronouncements carry an unusual weight.
Marga sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. "Taken or run, it matters little now. He's gone. And the world… the world out there isn't kind to stray lambs." A deeper fear gnawed at her – a fear not just for Kim's safety, but for something…unpredictable about his departure. "Stay close to the Rest," she warned the children, her gaze lingering on Aldric. "Don't go wandering off searching. It's dangerous out there, especially for the…unprotected."
Later that morning, Aldric, restless and unable to shake off the image of Kim venturing alone into the unknown, approached Lirien and Mira again, away from the watchful eyes of Marga.
"We should… we should go find him," he declared, his voice a low murmur, laced with a bravado he didn't quite feel. "Bring him back. Before… before something bad happens."
Lirien's eyes went wide with terror. "Go _out there_? Are you mad, Aldric? Marga said it's dangerous! Shadow things, bandits, who knows what else!" She clutched a tattered piece of fabric to her chest, her small frame trembling. "I'm not going. No, thank you."
Mira remained silent for a long moment, considering. Then, she spoke, her voice barely audible. "Lirien's right. It's dangerous. But… Kim is different. He's… strong, somehow. In a way we don't understand." She looked at Aldric, a question in her dark eyes. "Are _you_ going, Aldric?"
Aldric puffed out his chest, trying to ignore the flutter of fear in his own stomach. "Of course, I am! Someone has to be sensible! Owl-boy is probably lost already, wandering in circles, talking to trees!" He paused, then admitted in a softer voice, almost a whisper, "Besides… I've always wanted to see the town properly. Not just for chores. Just… go." The truth was, Aldric, for all his bravado, felt a stir of envy, of longing for the very freedom Kim had claimed. He just needed a _reason_ to go. And Kim provided it.
"You're foolish," Mira murmured, but there was no real condemnation in her voice, only a quiet observation. Lirien just whimpered, shaking her head, burying her face in her sewing.
And so, spurred by a mixture of worry, bravado, and a secret yearning for escape, Aldric set off alone, following the faint trail he hoped Kim had left behind, a small, solitary figure venturing into the vast unknown.
Meanwhile, Kim was experiencing a revelation of his own. The "Golden Barrel" Inn, while hardly opulent, was a world away from the spartan confines of Braelor's Rest. A room to himself. A real bed, even if the straw mattress was lumpy. Food that wasn't gruel, even if it was simple fare of bread and stew. Clean linen, a flickering candle, and blessed, glorious solitude. The sheer _luxury_ of it was almost overwhelming.
He spent the afternoon observing the inn's common room, noting the comings and goings of travelers and townsfolk. Among them were a group of mercenaries, their leather armor worn but functional, their swords and axes well-maintained and gleaming dully in the dim light. They spoke in gruff tones, their conversations punctuated by the clinking of **Bronze Bits** and the hearty guffaws that accompanied tales of past battles and future contracts.
Kim watched them with focused intensity, his analytical mind dissecting their equipment, their postures, their weaponry. Swords, axes, maces…brute force instruments. Effective, undoubtedly, but…inelegant. Inefficient, even. His gaze drifted to the quivers of arrows slung across their backs. Arrows… projectiles. Range. Accuracy. Potential.
An idea began to form, sparked by the sight of the blacksmith's workshop he'd passed on the way to the inn, and the whispers he'd overheard about enchanters. Blacksmiths forged the metal, enchanters… imbued it with magic. Could arrows, perhaps, be…enhanced? Explosive arrows? Arrows carrying elemental force? Arrows that could… illuminate the darkness?
He thought of the marmalade, the small but encouraging success of his initial venture. Profit was useful, necessary, but…limiting. Enchantment, weaponry, _power_… that held a far greater allure. If he could master enchantment, if he could combine his scientific understanding with this world's magic… the possibilities were, as he'd mused before, countless.
But were they probable? He possessed the _concept_ of enchantment, the whispers he'd overheard, but not the _knowledge_. Not the skills. He needed… information. Books. Scrolls. The secrets of enchanters. And those, he suspected, would not be easily acquired. He was caught in a dilemma: focus on immediate, mundane profit to survive, or pursue the long, uncertain path towards real power.
Later that evening, Aldric, driven by a naive determination and a rumbling stomach, found himself far from the familiar paths around Braelor's Rest, hopelessly lost and increasingly hungry. He'd imagined finding Kim would be simple – just follow the road to town. But the road had forked, branched, and dissolved into a confusing maze of tracks and paths.
Desperate, his eyes fell upon a small orchard, laden with ripe apples, just beyond a low stone wall. "Just one or two," he reasoned to himself, his stomach growling in protest. "Just enough to keep going."
He scrambled over the wall, his fingers reaching for a low-hanging branch, when a gruff voice barked, "Well, well, look what we have here. A little orchard thief."
Aldric froze, turning to face a burly man with a weathered face and arms like tree trunks, his expression thunderous. The orchard owner. And he did _not_ look pleased.
"I… I wasn't stealing, sir," Aldric stammered, his bravado vanishing like morning mist. "Just… just admiring the apples. Beautiful apples, sir."
The orchard owner snorted, grabbing Aldric by the scruff of his neck. "Admiring with your teeth, more like! Trying to fill your pockets, weren't you, you little rascal?"
Despite Aldric's frantic protests, the orchard owner dragged him towards the village, his grip like iron. "We'll see what the watch has to say about thieving orphans," he growled. "They need to learn some respect for honest folk's property!"
And so, Aldric's quest to find Kim ended not in a reunion, but in a rough beating behind the orchard shed and a short, ignominious stay in the village lockup, sharing a cramped, damp cell with a snoring drunkard and the gnawing realization that the world beyond Braelor's Rest was indeed, as Marga had warned