The cool night air drifted through the empty streets of Pravend, carrying the damp scent of river mud and woodsmoke.
Jade, Numerius, Yuzon, Mataranas, and Nathaniel sat together on the stone rim of the village well. High above, the crescent moon cut through thin clouds, casting long shadows across the empty square. None of them had gone back to their straw beds. The quiet, dark cottages surrounding the square felt strange and suffocating after three weeks of blood, steel, and LitRPG level notifications.
Heavy, uneven footsteps crunched on the gravel path.
Torvald hobbled out from the dark shadow of the blacksmith shop, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane. His left arm was bound tightly across his chest in a cloth sling, and thick white bandages wrapped around his forehead, but his single visible eye was sharp and unblinking in the moonlight.
"You boys are sitting out here making enough noise to wake the dead," Torvald grunted, coming to a stop near the well.
Jade looked up, adjusting his spear. "Sorry, Torvald. Just thinking."
Torvald leaned his weight against the stone well, eyeing the five of them with a critical look. His gaze drifted over Nathaniel's light crossbow, Numerius's back shield, Yuzon's hunting bow, Matty's cavalry shield, and Jade's arming sword.
"Thinking about your families?" Torvald asked, his voice rough. "Or thinking about how you don't fit into this village anymore?"
Nathaniel let out a dry, bitter laugh, rubbing his sore nose. "Bit of both, Torvald. Mostly trying to figure out how to survive my own household."
Torvald snorted, chewing on the unlit stem of his wooden pipe. "I have seen it a hundred times. Young men march off to war thinking they will come back and go right back to pulling plows and weeding turnips. But once a man tastes steel and sees a castle wall break, the village feels small. You can't put milk back in the cow, boys."
Jade listened to Torvald's words, feeling a heavy weight settle in his chest.
Deep down, Jade knew they had already decided long ago that they needed to join a warband, or eventually build their own. It was the only way to grow stronger, level up, and find out why they had been dragged into 1084 Calradia in the first place.
But actually walking away was far more complicated than he had expected. In just three weeks, they had grown genuinely attached to the families assigned to them in this world. Jade thought of his father's sudden, crushing hug, Matty's weeping grandma, and Nathaniel's nagging mother. These were not just NPC backstories anymore. The emotional ties felt real, pulling at them and trying to tie them down to a quiet life they could no longer live.
Nathaniel, meanwhile, looked like he was about to suffer a mental breakdown right beside the well.
He slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and began muttering under his breath as he mulled over the absolute nightmare waiting for him at home.
"You guys don't understand," Nathaniel said, his voice rising in panic. "I am caught in a two-front war. On one side, my mom spent two hours pacing the floor, complaining about peasant dirt, holding my face, and screaming about my ruined nose. She told me she is sending a messenger to Ocs Hall tomorrow to arrange a meeting with Master Osgar's daughter so I can become a high-society merchant!"
Numerius grinned slightly. "Sounds fancy, Nate."
"It's a trap!" Nathaniel hissed, waving his hands. "Because on the other side, Hilda's mother came over with fresh bread. She saw me survive the siege, remembered the promise our fathers made before they disappeared in the war, and now she thinks I am a local hero! She was measuring my shoulders for a wedding tunic, talking about buying four sheep, and setting a wedding date for next month! My mom was glaring at Hilda's mom, Hilda's mom was invoking our dead fathers' promise, and I was sitting in the middle trying not to bleed on the stew!"
Yuzon chuckled softly under his breath. "So your Social stat gave you two separate marriage tracks at the same time."
"It's not funny!" Nathaniel threw his hands up in the air, completely overwhelmed by the domestic chaos. He buried his face into the collar of his leather jack and let out a loud, muffled scream that echoed across the quiet square.
"Why is my character's background story here so complicated?!" Nathaniel yelled into his jacket.
Numerius burst out laughing, kicking Nathaniel's boot. "That is what happens when you put all your points into Social and Charm, Nate. You generated a medieval soap opera."
"I didn't ask for a soap opera!" Nathaniel pulled his face out of his jack, rubbing his temples in utter exhaustion. "If I stay in Pravend for another week, my mom and Hilda's mother are going to fight a duel in the square over our dead fathers' promise, and then they will force me to farm turnips or move to Ocs Hall. Joining the Golden Boar and running away to the Imperial border is literally my only way to survive!"
Mataranas gave a slow, quiet nod from the shadows. "The crossbow is quieter than a wedding."
Nathaniel pointed at Mataranas. "See? Even Matty agrees with me!"
Torvald tapped his cane against the dirt, cutting through their laughter with a wry smile.
"Captain Rodrik is holding his camp two miles out on the road," Torvald continued, his eye scanning each of them. "He offered you a spot in the Golden Boar. If you stay here, you will wither away pulling weeds or getting dragged into village weddings. If you go with Rodrik, you will fight, but you will grow."
Jade looked at his friends around the well. "So we take Rodrik's offer."
"I think you would be fools not to," Torvald said flatly. "Pravend needs farmers, but you five aren't farmers anymore. Leave some silver for your families, grab your gear, and go before the sun comes up. It is easier on them if you don't make a big scene."
"I am not copying tax scrolls," Yuzon said, his jaw setting as he buckled his arrow quiver. "My Bow and Tactics stats belong on the battlefield."
"I am definitely not getting married next month," Nathaniel added quickly, pulling his crossbow strap tight. "I am leaving a very polite note for my mom and Hilda."
Jade stood up, lifting his spear and round shield. "Alright. We earned sixty denars each from the siege. After spending twenty-four denars each at the market for our new gear, we have thirty-six denars left. We leave twenty denars each with our families to help the village rebuild, and keep sixteen denars each for expenses on the road."
They spent the next two hours quietly returning to their family homes under the cover of darkness.
Jade stepped softly into his stone cottage, placing twenty silver denars on his father's wooden table alongside a brief note thanking him for everything. Nathaniel crept into his house, leaving twenty silver denars on his mother's desk with a note explaining that he had urgent trade business in the east with the Golden Boar. Yuzon, Numerius, and Mataranas did the same in their respective homes, leaving enough silver to feed their families for months.
As the first pale grey light of dawn broke over the eastern hills, the five friends met at the village gate.
Torvald stood by the wooden palisade, leaning on his cane and watching them with a faint nod of approval.
"Watch each other's backs," Torvald said as they passed through the open gate. "And don't forget what I taught you about holding formation."
"Thanks for everything, Torvald," Jade said, offering a respectful nod.
The five of them turned their backs on Pravend and stepped onto the dirt road, their new armor clinking softly in the crisp morning air as they marched toward Captain Rodrik's camp.