*Date: 33,480 Third Quarter — Between Chalice Theocracy and Kingdom of Satar* - A month ago
The journey continued.
Days blurred into each other. Wake before dawn. Walk until noon. Rest during the hottest hours. Walk again until sunset. Make camp. Brew potions. Sleep. Repeat.
Aris fell into the rhythm with surprising ease. His body, hardened by four years at this wretchet game, adapted quickly. His feet toughened. His shoulders stopped aching. Even Fox seemed to accept the endless walking, though he often rode in Helda's wagon when he thought no one was looking.
On the fifth day, they reached a relatively large village called Thornbrook.
The settlement sprawled across a hillside, its buildings made of gray stone and dark timber. A small river ran along its eastern edge, and the main road cut through its center like a scar. Not a city, but not a hamlet either. Big enough to have an inn. Big enough to attract traders.
Master Gront called a day halt.
"Those who wish to set up shop may do so," he announced to the gathered caravan. "We leave tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late, or we leave without you."
---
Some of the merchants rolled their wagons into the village square and began hawking their wares. Silvan the glass merchant. A fabric seller from the eastern provinces. A dwarf who dealt in metal tools.
Most, however, had no buyers here. The villagers were simple folk with simple needs. They did not want exotic glass vials or rare herbs. They wanted bread and iron and cloth they could afford.
Helda decided not to set up. "Too much competition from local apothecaries," she said. "And too little coin in their pockets."
Aris helped her secure her wagon and then found himself at loose ends. He wandered through the village with Fox at his heels, taking in the sights. A blacksmith hammering at his forge. Children chasing geese. Old women gossiping on doorsteps.
Normal life. The kind of life Aris had almost forgotten existed.
---
"Aris! Hey, Aris!"
He turned. Vorn the beastmaster was waving at him from across the square. The halfling had set up near the village inn, his cage of exotic creatures drawing curious looks from the locals.
"Come, come!" Vorn beckoned. "I want to thank you properly."
Aris approached cautiously. The halfling had been pleasant enough since his wound healed, but Aris had not forgotten the gleam in his eyes when he looked at Fox.
"Thank me how?"
"A meal! My treat." Vorn grinned. "The inn here serves a decent rabbit stew. And their ale is passable."
Fox pressed against Aris's ankle. A warning or a question, he could not tell.
"I... suppose."
"Excellent! Excellent!"
---
The village inn was called the Thornbrook Rest. It was small but clean, with a fire crackling in the hearth and the smell of cooking meat filling the air. Vorn led Aris to a corner table and ordered food and drink with the confidence of a man who had done this a thousand times.
"So," Vorn said once the serving girl had left, "you're going to the tournament."
Aris tensed. "How do you know that?"
"Master Gront mentioned it. Said you were heading to Parthanon for the big competition." Vorn sipped his ale. "Brave of you. Foolish, maybe. But brave."
"I have my reasons."
"Everyone does." Vorn leaned back. "You know, I work for Tartarus. The beast shop in the capital. We deal in rare creatures. Exotic pets. Mounts for those who can afford them." He gestured vaguely. "It's good work. Honest work. Well, mostly honest."
"What's your point?"
"My point is that I know people. People who could help a young man like yourself." Vorn's eyes flicked to Fox, who was curled under the table. "And I'm still interested in your companion."
"I told you. He's not for sale."
"Everyone has a price, Aris." Vorn's voice was gentle, almost paternal. "Twenty gold. Thirty. Name it."
"You don't understand." Aris felt his jaw tighten. "Fox isn't a possession. He's my friend."
"Friends can be replaced."
"Not this one."
They stared at each other across the table. The fire crackled. The other patrons murmured in their own conversations.
Finally, Vorn sighed and held up his hands.
"Fine, fine. I won't ask again." He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "But if you ever change your mind, come find me at Tartarus in the capital. The offer stands."
---
The food arrived. Rabbit stew, thick with vegetables and fragrant with herbs. Fresh bread. Two mugs of ale that Aris barely touched.
They ate in uncomfortable silence. Vorn made small talk about the roads and the weather, but Aris's mind was elsewhere. On the tournament. On the Locke. On Lyra, trapped in a body that did not remember who she was.
When the meal was finished, Aris stood.
"Thank you for the food."
"My pleasure." Vorn raised his mug. "Good luck in the tournament. You'll need it."
---
Aris was halfway across the village square when a voice called out behind him.
"Excuse me! Excuse me, sir!"
He turned. A man was hurrying toward him, waving. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, with the rough clothing of a villager and the eager expression of someone who wanted something.
"Can I help you?" Aris asked.
"I hope so. I hope so." The man stopped, catching his breath. "The caravan master told me you're an alchemist. That you might have scrolls. Or recipes. For potions."
Aris studied the man. Something about him was familiar. The set of his shoulders. The way his eyes moved. The desperation lurking beneath the surface.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Rodran. I'm... I'm an amateur alchemist. Self-taught." Rodran wrung his hands. "I've been trying to learn on my own, but I can't get past the basics. I heard you were traveling with the caravan, and I thought maybe..."
Then it clicked.
Aris remembered. The Karakol Inn. Adon's corner table. A man begging for another chance. *I couldn't enter the academy. I'm trying my hardest just by myself.*
This was the same man. The one Adon had dismissed. The one who had stared at Aris's blood vial with such jealousy.
"I know you." Aris kept his voice neutral. "You were at Karakol Inn. In the city. With Adon."
Rodran's face went pale.
"I... I don't know what you..."
"You wanted to be Marduk's disciple. Adon turned you away."
For a moment, Rodran looked like he might run. His eyes darted left and right, searching for an escape. But then his shoulders slumped, and the fight went out of him.
"Yes. Alright. Yes." He met Aris's gaze. "I was there. I saw you show that vial to Adon. Saw his face change." His voice cracked. "You're what I've been trying to become for three years. A real student of the Master."
"So you followed the caravan?"
"No I am living in this town. It is luck brought you here"
"Yeah I am lucky like that"
He smiled "Maybe luck is turning to my side. When the caravan stopped here, I thought..." He trailed off.
"You thought what? That I would teach you?"
"I hoped." Rodran fell to his knees in the middle of the square. "Please. I'll do anything. Carry your supplies. Clean your equipment. Whatever you need. Just give me a chance."
Aris looked down at the kneeling man. Fox emerged from behind him and sat beside his ankle, watching.
"Get up." Aris's voice was harder than he intended. "Get off your knees."
Rodran obeyed, though his eyes remained downcast. He gulped "I have a robes for a mage and a imbued dagger. You can have them. They will be usefull for you"
"I'm not a master," Aris said. "I'm barely more than an apprentice myself. I can't teach you what you want to learn."
"But you know the Master. You have his recipes. Please..."
"Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't." Aris shook his head. "The path I'm on... it's not something you want. Trust me."
"You don't know what I want." Rodran's voice hardened suddenly. "You don't know what it's like. Watching everyone else get stronger. Get smarter. Get *chosen*. While you're stuck in a village, mixing weak tonics for copper coins."
Aris said nothing.
"I've been passed over my whole life," Rodran continued. "The academy rejected me. The guilds ignored me. Even the Master's apprentice couldn't be bothered to introduce me." His eyes burned. "But I won't give up. I can't."
Fox spoke, breaking the tension. "Aris, we should go."
Rodran's head snapped toward the fox. His eyes went wide.
"We're leaving." Aris turned and started walking.
"Wait! Please!" Rodran's voice followed him. "I'll find another way! I'll prove myself! And when I do, you'll see! Everyone will see!"
Aris did not look back.
---
That night, in his tent at the edge of camp, Aris lay awake thinking about Rodran. About desperation. About how far people would go when they had nothing left to lose.
"He's dangerous," Fox whispered beside him.
"No, he is just desperate like we are."