The sounds of Oakhaven waking – quieter today, subdued by grief – filter into the small cabin as morning light fills the cracks. You rise from the cot, feeling less sore than you expected, the subtle enhancements from Oracle's automatic stat allocation making themselves known. You quickly check your meager possessions, strap on the bum bag, secure the knives (skinning knife tucked into your belt, goblin dagger still wrapped in your pocket), and pull on the sturdy leather boots. The local clothes feel rough but serviceable.
Stepping outside, the village air is cool and damp. Fewer people are out and about compared to yesterday morning. Those you see move with quiet purpose, their faces drawn. A group prepares to head out, likely the burial party for Elara. The shared grief is palpable. Eyes still follow you as you walk towards the center, but the fear seems tempered now, perhaps replaced by weary acceptance or simple distraction by their sorrow.
You reach Elder Rowan's house and knock softly. It's Meredith who answers, her eyes red-rimmed but her expression composed. She offers a small, sad smile. "Keelan. Good morning. Father is inside." She steps aside to let you in.
The atmosphere within is hushed. Gregor lies still by the hearth, breathing shallowly. Rowan sits beside him, looking weary but alert. He looks up as you enter, his gaze searching.
"Elder Rowan, Meredith," you begin, nodding respectfully. "I came to check on Gregor..." you glance towards the injured man, "...and to thank you again for your hospitality." You take a breath. "As we discussed yesterday, my path lies south, towards Silvercliff City. With the supplies you provided and the small coin, I believe it's time for me to continue my journey. I intend to leave this morning."
You state it plainly, keeping your tone respectful but firm.
Meredith looks down, clearly saddened but understanding. Rowan studies you for a long moment, his fingers steepled. The conflict you saw yesterday is still visible in his eyes. (Leaving... as he said... Predictable. Safer for Oakhaven in some ways... yet, the threat... goblins didn't just vanish... Wolf wasn't alone perhaps... Foolish to travel south alone with only 10 copper... but his mind seems set...)
"So soon?" Rowan asks, his voice quiet but carrying. "The road south is long, Keelan. And not without its own dangers. Ten copper will barely see you to Bridgetown, let alone the capital." He sighs, a weary sound. "I confess, a part of me hoped you might linger, at least until we were certain no further threats lurked nearby. Your strength... it provided a measure of security this village hasn't felt in some time, even if it arrived under dark circumstances."
He shakes his head slightly. "But, a man must follow his own path. And perhaps it is best. Oakhaven needs time to heal, and your presence, however helpful, is a constant reminder of... things beyond our understanding."
He gestures towards the door. "The supplies and clothes are yours, earned fairly. The ten copper is yours. As for the rest..." He looks genuinely troubled. "The value of those wolf parts... it could be significant, but only if sold well in Bridgetown or beyond. It may be weeks, even months, before one of us makes that journey. Trusting coin to traveling merchants is risky."
He pauses, considering. "Tell me this, Keelan. Should fortune favor us with a good price for those salvage parts, how would we find you in a city as vast as Silvercliff? Or perhaps you intend to stop in Bridgetown first?" He's being pragmatic, trying to fulfill his end of the bargain despite the uncertainties.
Meredith steps forward hesitantly. "Perhaps... you could take a token? Something small from the village?" She glances at Rowan for approval, clearly wanting to offer something more tangible.
Rowan considers her suggestion, then looks back at you, waiting for your response about how payment could potentially reach you, leaving the decision implicitly in your hands: trust to fate and their honesty for later payment, or perhaps suggest an alternative.
Time: Early Morning (Approx 7:30 AM)
Date: 03/05/1042
Status:
- Intention: Keelan has stated his plan to leave for Silvercliff City today.
- Rowan's Reaction: Accepts the decision with mixed feelings (relief/concern), raises practical issue of payment for salvaged goods.
- Gregor's Status: Unchanged (critical but stable).
- Village Status: Grieving, subdued.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Inventory: Unchanged (Preparing for departure).
You listen to Rowan's practical dilemma regarding payment. Waiting weeks or months for uncertain coin isn't ideal, especially when you need resources now. A tangible item, however, solves the problem neatly and equips you better for the dangerous road ahead.
"Elder Rowan," you say respectfully, "I understand the difficulty. Tracking me down in Silvercliff would be near impossible, and waiting benefits neither of us." You gesture towards the door, indicating the world outside. "The road south is dangerous, as you said. My goblin dagger is crude, the skinning knife not meant for combat."
You meet his eyes directly. "Perhaps a different arrangement? Borin is a skilled smith, I hear. If the village has a simple, serviceable short sword – nothing fancy, just sturdy steel – with a basic sheath, I would consider that fair payment in full for my services and the salvaged parts. It would be far more valuable to me on the road than the promise of coin later. You keep whatever the wolf parts fetch; I get a tool vital for my survival."
You let the offer hang there. It's a direct trade: your salvage rights for a weapon.
Rowan looks thoughtful, stroking his thin beard. He glances at Torvin (who returned sometime during the conversation and stands near the door), who gives a slow, almost imperceptible nod. (A sword... practical. Solid value. Easier than coin later. Arms him better... but he intends to leave anyway. Fair trade, given the risks he took. Settles the debt cleanly.)
"A sword," Rowan muses aloud. "Yes... that seems a fair and practical solution, Keelan. Borin owes the community service, and we keep several basic weapons in the stores for the militia." He looks at Torvin. "Take Keelan to the stores again. Find him a standard militia short sword and sheath. Ensure it's sharp."
"Aye, Elder," Torvin replies, his expression unreadable but seemingly accepting the decision.
"Consider it done," Rowan says to you. "The sword, the clothes, the rations, the ten copper – consider your service to Oakhaven fully compensated, and our debt of gratitude acknowledged, if not fully repaid." He offers a slight, formal bow of his head. "Travel safely, Keelan. May your path be clearer than the one that led you here."
Meredith steps forward, offering a sad smile. "Be careful on the road, Keelan. Thank you again for... everything."
"Thank you, Elder Rowan, Meredith. For your understanding and your help," you reply sincerely. "I wish Oakhaven peace and quick healing." You give a final nod towards Gregor, hoping he pulls through.
You follow Torvin back to the communal stores. He unlocks the sturdy door and leads you inside. It's dimly lit, smelling of grain, leather, and oiled metal. He goes to a weapon rack and selects a sword. It's plain, functional – a straight, double-edged blade about two feet long, with a simple crossguard and a worn leather-wrapped hilt. He pulls it from its equally plain leather sheath, checks the edge, and nods. "Sharp enough." He hands it to you, hilt first.
The weight feels solid, balanced, far superior to the crude dagger. This is a real weapon. You slide it back into the sheath and attach it to your belt opposite the skinning knife. It feels secure, reassuring.
"Stay safe out there," Torvin says gruffly, meeting your eye for a moment. It's as close to a friendly farewell as he's likely to give.
"You too, Torvin," you reply.
You step out into the morning light, now properly equipped. You walk through the subdued village one last time, heading for the South Gate. Villagers watch you go, their expressions still mixed, but perhaps with less overt fear now that you are voluntarily leaving. Reaching the gate, you give a final glance back at the cluster of thatched roofs smoke curling into the sky, then turn south, onto the path leading away from Oakhaven.
The forest presses close on either side of the track, which seems slightly more defined here than the one you entered by. The air is cool, the sounds of the woods surround you. You are truly alone now, heading into the unknown, towards a town called Bridgetown two days away, with minimal supplies, ten copper coins, and a head full of impossible power and fragmented memories.
'Oracle,' you think, settling into a steady walking pace, hand resting near the hilt of your new sword. 'Maintain high alert. Scan actively for potential ambushes or threats along the path.'
<< Acknowledged. Active environmental scanning and threat assessment protocols engaged. Monitoring for ambushes, hostile life forms, and environmental hazards. Probability analysis running continuously. Proceeding south along designated path. >>
The journey begins.
Time: Morning (Approx 8:30 AM)
Date: 03/05/1042
Status:
- Departed Oakhaven. Traveling south towards Bridgetown.
AI Status: High alert, actively scanning for threats.