The road stretched for miles beneath a pale morning sky.
Golden grass rippled on both sides, bending with the breeze like a quiet sea. The sound of hooves was steady, slow, and unhurried — the kind of rhythm that settled into your bones if you listened long enough.
Ronan sat relaxed on the driver's bench, reins loose in one hand, the other resting on his knee. The horse, an old gray mare named Lira, moved at her own pace — steady, patient. Arin sat beside him this time instead of the cart's back, one arm resting on his knee, watching the horizon.
They hadn't spoken much since leaving the forest. Silence wasn't awkward here — it just felt… natural.
Every now and then, Ronan hummed a low tune. Arin listened quietly, half-lost in thought. The sun felt warm instead of dangerous now, and the world smelled of grass and dust instead of blood and smoke.
By the time the sun climbed high, the road had begun to change. Stone markers appeared every few miles, each etched with faint glowing symbols. The ground grew smoother — compacted by countless wheels before theirs.
Ronan noticed Arin's gaze.
"King's markers," he said, tapping one as they passed. "Means we're in Valenreach territory now. You can tell by how neat the roads are — and how your freedom starts feeling a bit smaller."
Arin frowned slightly. "Smaller?"
Ronan grinned. "They run things tight here. Laws, checkpoints, taxes — they've got a system for everything. But it's safe, I'll give them that. Bandits don't last long when the army's always watching."
As if on cue, a faint shimmer passed in the air above them — a floating crystal sphere drifting lazily like a lantern. It pulsed with soft blue light before vanishing in a flicker.
Arin blinked. "What was that?"
"Scout orb," Ronan said. "Valenreach's little eyes in the sky. They use them to map roads and check for magic beasts." He reached into the cart and pulled out a small metal canteen. "Don't worry, it's harmless — unless you're wanted for something."
Arin looked uneasy. "That's… normal here?"
Ronan laughed. "Normal? Kid, this is Valenreach. 'Normal' means magic lamps, rune engines, and half the nobles flying around in carriages that don't even touch the ground. It's a miracle we common folk still walk."
Arin smiled faintly. "Sounds like a strange place."
"Oh, it is," Ronan said with a small chuckle. "But you'll see. They built their kingdom on two things — discipline and power. Every city's got guards trained like soldiers, every soldier trained like knights, and every knight ready to die for the throne. You won't find a stronger army on this side of the continent."
He paused, his tone softening.
"Of course… strength doesn't always mean peace."
They rode on in silence for a while. The landscape slowly shifted — from plains to low hills, from open sky to small clusters of farms marked by stone walls. People started to appear along the road — traders, travelers, farmers leading oxen-drawn carts. Some waved politely. Others simply stared at the dirt-covered boy sitting beside the merchant.
By midday, they stopped at a rest post — a wooden shelter near a shallow stream. Ronan unhitched the horse, gave her water, then sat under the shade and pulled out a small cooking pot.
Arin helped gather wood, still quiet. When the fire caught, the smell of warm stew filled the air — simple, but comforting.
They ate slowly, neither speaking for a while. The breeze carried faint birdsong.
Ronan eventually leaned back, wiping his mouth. "So, kid… what now? You planning to settle somewhere?"
Arin looked into the fire. "I don't know yet."
Ronan studied him quietly. "You've got that look of someone running from something."
Arin didn't answer. His jaw tensed slightly.
Ronan nodded like he expected that. "Fair enough. We all run from something. Me, I just keep moving until the past can't catch up. Works most days."
Arin's lips curved faintly. "Does it really work?"
Ronan chuckled. "Not really. But pretending helps."
They both smiled a little at that.
After a moment, Ronan tossed a twig into the flames and said, "You know, a rumor's been floating around lately. Big one."
Arin glanced up. "What kind of rumor?"
"About a man named Rudra," Ronan said, lowering his voice like someone sharing a secret. "Used to be one of Valenreach's top soldiers, or so they say. Fought in wars, led raids, protected border towns. Then one day, out of nowhere, he kills a noble."
Arin blinked. "…Why?"
Ronan shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. The nobles say he snapped — went mad, lost control of his Astra or whatever it was he used. Others say the noble deserved it — corruption, slavery, things like that. You know how stories grow. Truth's buried somewhere in between."
He stirred the fire absently.
"They say Rudra disappeared after that. Some call him a traitor. Some call him a hero. Some just say he's dead."
Arin looked into the flames, expression unreadable. "Do you believe it?"
Ronan shrugged again. "I believe what I see. And so far, I haven't seen a man who kills nobles for fun and vanishes without a trace. But stories like that… they keep the world interesting."
The fire crackled. Arin watched the light dance across Ronan's face — calm, grounded, unshaken.
After a while, he spoke again, voice quiet. "Ronan… why did you trust me?"
Ronan raised a brow. "What do you mean?"
"When I came out of that forest," Arin said, "you didn't know me. I could've been anything. Dangerous. Lost. Crazy. Why'd you let me climb into your cart?"
Ronan stared at him for a second, then looked back at the fire.
"Because you didn't seem like a bad guy."
Arin blinked. "…That's it?"
Ronan smiled slightly. "That's it. I've met enough people to know the difference between hunger and hatred. You looked tired — not dangerous."
He picked up his mug of water, taking a slow sip. "Besides, everyone deserves one chance to prove who they are. You'll learn that traveling — sometimes one good choice can change your whole story."
Arin didn't say anything, but something about that lingered in him.
The kind of words that stuck quietly, somewhere deep.
Evening settled in. Fireflies floated lazily through the air, blinking like fading stars. Ronan leaned back against the cart, arms folded behind his head, already half-asleep.
Arin stayed awake a little longer, staring up at the darkening sky. He could still smell smoke from the fire, hear the faint breathing of the horse, and feel the quiet rhythm of life returning around him.
For the first time in a long while… he didn't feel alone.
And far ahead — beyond the valleys and rivers — the first faint glow of a city shimmered on the horizon.
Valenreach.
A new place.
A new world.