“The first step of a journey is merely leaving behind what you were; the second step is deciding who you will become.” — Seneca The rhythmic clatter of wooden wheels over the hard-packed dirt road was a hypnotic, grinding sound.
Inside the dim, dust-filled wagon, surrounded by towering stacks of burlap grain sacks, Riven struggled to find a comfortable position.
The air smelled heavily of chaff, dried earth, and old canvas.
Every time the wagon jolted over a rut in the road, the impact traveled through his body, sending another wave of pain radiating from his bandaged shoulder.
He bit down hard on his lower lip, stifling a hiss.
He couldn’t afford to make a sound.
If the driver or the guards discovered that an extra passenger was hiding among the cargo, the agreement could fall apart.
He had no idea what they would do to him if they found out he’d lied.
With his good hand, Riven clutched the hilt of the stolen sword resting against his leg.
The weapon was far too large for him, but having it nearby made him feel a little safer.
Beside him lay the rough monster hide and the horn he’d taken from the beast.
Deep in his pocket, resting against his thigh, was the small red magic core.
They were practically everything he owned.
‘Just stay quiet.
Just get to the town.’ Although the guards had snuck him in he knew the merchants might report him if they found out.
How long had they been traveling?
Time blurred in the cramped darkness.
The steady swaying of the wagon lulled his exhausted body, threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness.
However, the sharp throbbing in his shoulder kept him awake.
He shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on his wound.
A sudden jolt sent pain shooting through his arm, and he immediately froze.
He couldn’t afford to reopen the wound.
Not now.
After what felt like hours, the wagon began to slow.
The sounds of the forest gradually faded, replaced by unfamiliar noises.
He heard the clinking of horseshoes clomping against the stone, merchants shouting to one another, and distant whips cracking.
There was also a constant murmur of voices, far louder than anything he’d heard since escaping the camp.
They had reached a settlement.
Riven carefully lifted his head, listening to the activity outside.
The wagon continued forward before eventually slowing again.
“Cargo check for the inner gate.
Offloading at warehouse four?” The voice belonged to a man standing outside.
“Aye,” the driver answered.
“Standard grain shipment, plus a tired team.” “All right.
Move it along.
Keep the lane clear.” Riven held his breath.
The wagon started moving again, its wheels rattling over what sounded like cobblestones.
He tightened his grip on the sword, waiting for someone to notice him.
But no one did.
Eventually, the wagon came to a stop.
The horses shifted in their harnesses, and the driver climbed down.
Riven could hear footsteps moving away, followed by the distant voices of workers unloading other wagons.
He waited.
A few seconds passed, then a few more.
Only when he was reasonably certain nobody was nearby did he push the canvas covering him out of the way.
Bright afternoon sunlight spilled into the dark interior, forcing him to squint.
He peered outside.
The wagon was parked in a narrow loading alley, surrounded by tall buildings made of stone.
A few workers were carrying crates nearby, but none of them seemed interested in the wagon.
Riven took a deep breath.
He had made it.
Slowly, wincing as he moved, he gathered his belongings.
The monster hide was awkward to carry, and the horn kept slipping from his grasp.
He tucked the magic core safely into his pocket before carefully lifting the sword.
It was still much too large for him.
He would have to get used to carrying it.
After checking that nobody was watching, Riven climbed over the back of the wagon and dropped onto the cobblestones.
His legs nearly gave out beneath him.
He caught himself against the wagon, gritting his teeth as his injured shoulder throbbed.
For a moment, he simply stood there, waiting for the pain to subside.
Then he looked around.
The alley opened onto a much larger street.
People walked past carrying baskets and crates, while merchants stood outside their shops, solicitating their services out to passing customers.
Several wagons were parked along the road, and a few armed men stood near the entrance to a nearby building.
Everything was unfamiliar.
Riven had spent so long in the camp that he had almost forgotten what a normal town looked like.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he was surrounded by people who weren’t trying to control him.
But that didn’t mean he was safe.
He was still a five-year-old child, he’s wounded with an oversized sword, and no money.
He didn’t even know the towns name.
Riven glanced down at his belongings.
The hide and horn might be worth something.
The magic core might be worth even more.
But he had no idea how much any of them were worth, and he couldn’t risk being cheated.
More importantly, he needed someone to look at his shoulder.
He decided he would ask for information at the adventures guild.
He adjusted the sword’s position and carefully pulled the monster hide over his good shoulder.
The horn was tucked beneath it, leaving his injured arm free.
Then he stepped out of the alley and into the busy street.
The afternoon sun warmed his face.
Riven took a slow breath and looked at the unfamiliar buildings stretching in every direction.
He had escaped the camp.
He had survived the forest.
And now, at last, he had reached civilization.
But freedom was only the beginning.
He still needed food, money, somewhere to sleep, and a way to treat his injury.
He also needed to figure out how a five-year-old orphan was supposed to survive in a world where he knew absolutely no one.
For now, he had only one goal.
Gather information.