The morning sun pierced through the cracks in the wooden window shutters, casting bright, dusty lines across the small tavern room.
Roya blinked against the light, sitting up groggily before her eyes shot wide open.
"Oh, I slept in late!"
She scrambled out of bed, quickly splashing her face with water from the basin and tying her hair back. She threw on her boots,
strapped her few belongings together, and hurried out into the hallway. She knocked lightly on the adjacent door.
"Mr. Lucas? Are you in there?"
No response.
She pushed the door open to find the room completely empty, the bed already made. Roya headed downstairs into the tavern's main hall.
Even in the early morning, the place was packed with gruff-looking individuals drinking ale and eating heavy meals.
She spotted Garm, the scarred bartender, wiping down the counter. "Excuse me," Roya called out. "Have you seen Mr. Lucas?"
Garm glanced over and gave a short nod. "Yeah, he stepped out a bit ago. Said to let you know he'll be back in a few minutes, so you should pack up and wait."
"Right. Thank you."
Roya found a quiet stool in the darkest corner of the tavern and sat down, keeping her heavy bag tucked tightly between her legs. (I need to stay alert,) she thought to herself, scanning the room. (Information is survival out here.)
She tuned her ears to the overlapping chatter, picking up fragments of conversations.
"—telling you, the wild beasts are migrating further south," a massive man muttered to his companion. "But that's not even the worst of it. Have you noticed the knights from Albert patrolling the borders more than usual?"
"Yeah, what's up with that?" the second man asked. "Since when do those snobs care about the forest edge?"
"You didn't hear? It's because of that incident a few days ago. Some rogue swordsman of unknown origin completely beat the absolute hell out of a squad of Albert's elite knights right on the main road. Left them all bruised and humiliated in the mud."
"Are you serious?! Who the hell is crazy enough to—"
"Shh! Quiet down, you idiot!" the first man hissed. "If the wrong people hear us talking about it, we'll get dragged in."
Roya quietly filed the information away in her mind, adjusting her grip on her heavy bag.
"Hey," Lucas said, his blue hair catching the light as he walked over to her. "You ready? Let's leave."
Roya stood up, hauling her massive bag over her shoulder. "Okay, but we have to sell the herbs first."
Lucas sighed lazily but didn't argue. "Yeah, yeah. I saw an herb seller up ahead by the square. She might be interested."
They navigated their way out of the tavern and into the chaotic morning bustle of the Rogue Village. As they crossed the muddy town square, Roya watched as two massive thugs got into a shouting match over a dropped copper coin. One suddenly threw a handful of dirt into the other's eyes and kicked him in the shins, sending them both tumbling into the mud in a messy, underhanded brawl.
(Yep. This is definitely a rogue village alright,) Roya thought, deadpan.
They reached a cramped, rickety stall at the edge of the market. An incredibly old lady with a face full of deep wrinkles was organizing dried roots. She looked up, her sharp eyes scanning the heavy sack Roya dropped on the counter.
The old woman untied the bag, pulling out a handful of the dried leaves. She paused, sniffing them. "These... are from Bael, aren't they?"
Roya blinked in surprise. "Yes. Do you know him?"
The old lady grunted, tossing the leaves back in. "Know him? That old fart and me go back a long time. How's he doing?"
"He's doing well," Roya replied softly. "He helped me a lot."
The old woman stared at Roya for a long second, seeming to understand there was more to the story, but chose not to pry. She reached under her counter and tossed a heavy leather pouch of coins onto the table. It clinked heavily.
"There's your money. Now go."
Roya tucked the pouch safely into her tunic, offering a deep bow.
As Roya and Lucas turned to walk away toward the forest edge, the old lady called out one last time. "You're heading toward Vael, I assume? Be careful. There are far more dangerous things in this forest than wild beasts."
"Yes, ma'am. I will keep that in mind," Roya called back.
Soon, the muddy streets of the village gave way to the towering, imposing ancient trees of the Great Kira Forest. The atmosphere immediately grew heavy and damp, the sunlight struggling to pierce the thick canopy.
They walked in silence for a while, the only sound being the crunching of twigs under their boots.
Suddenly, Lucas stopped dead in his tracks.
Thud.
Roya, who had been staring at the ground to avoid tripping, bumped face-first right into his solid back. She rubbed her nose. "Hey, why did you stop?"
Lucas didn't turn around. His voice was calm, almost bored. "Looks like some bugs are following us."
Roya froze, her face instantly draining of color. "Bugs?!" She frantically started brushing off her sleeves and stomping her boots, looking wildly at the ground. "Where?! Are they huge? Are they poisonous?!"
Lucas let out a long sigh, completely ignoring her panic. He looked toward a thick cluster of bushes just off the path.
"Come out," Lucas said flatly. "There's no point in hiding. Or I'll just cut you down where you stand."
The bushes rustled.
Five figures stepped out from the shadows of the ancient trees, blocking the path forward. At the front of the group stood the woman from the tavern, glaring daggers at Lucas.
"See? I told you," the woman spat, a nasty grin forming on her face. "I told you you'd regret it. Now you're completely surrounded."
Lucas didn't reply. He didn't even shift his stance.
A large, burly man stepped up beside the woman. He carried a heavy iron broadsword, and a familiar, jagged scar ran across the back of his hand. He sneered, looking Lucas up and down.
"You shouldn't have messed with my sister, pretty boy," the man mocked. "What's with the blue hair, anyway? Did you fall in a vat of dye? Get him, boys. Bleed him dry!"
The three thugs behind him drew their rusty weapons and charged forward with a battle cry.
"Mr. Lucas, be careful! They have weapons!" Roya yelled, stepping back.
Lucas finally moved. Slowly, elegantly, his hand grasped his hilt. He drew his blade.
Shwing.
The azure steel flashed in the dim forest light.
With a single, effortless step forward, Lucas vanished from his spot.
He reappeared beside the first charging thug. A clean, singular slash echoed through the air. The man collapsed face-first into the dirt before he even realized he had been cut.
The second thug swung a crude axe. Lucas didn't even block it. He simply leaned his head an inch to the left, letting the axe miss entirely, and drove his heavy boot directly into the man's knee. A sickening crack rang out, and the thug crumpled to the ground, howling in agony.
The third man tried to attack from the side, aiming for Lucas's blind spot. Lucas didn't look. He casually flicked his wrist backwards. The blade sliced clean through the man's wrist.
The thug stared at his severed hand in the dirt for a full second before falling to his knees, screaming at the top of his lungs.
It was over in less than three seconds.
The burly brother, who had just raised his iron broadsword to join the fight, completely froze. His eyes bulged out of his head. The color completely drained from his face.
Clang.
He instantly dropped his broadsword and slammed his knees into the dirt, drilling his forehead so hard into the ground that it left a dent. "Please let me live! I'm sorry! Please!"
Lucas stepped over the groveling man, walking calmly toward the sister.
The tavern woman was paralyzed with shock. The smugness had entirely vanished from her face, replaced by pure, unadulterated horror.
Her lips trembled violently as Lucas towered over her.
Lucas stared down at her for a moment. Then, with a smooth, sharp motion, he slid his sword back into its scabbard.
Click.
Seeing the blade put away, the woman let out a massive, trembling sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping. (He's sparing me,) she thought.
SMASH.
Without a single word of hesitation, Lucas pulled his arm back and delivered a flawless, devastating right hook directly into her nose.
The woman's eyes rolled to the back of her head, blood spraying from her nose as she went down like a sack of bricks, knocked completely unconscious before she even hit the forest floor.
Lucas rubbed his knuckles, looking completely unbothered. He glanced down at the brother, who was still trying to merge his forehead with the dirt.
"Take your friends and get out," Lucas said coldly. "They aren't dead. But they will be if I ever see your faces again."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" the brother cried, immediately scrambling up to drag his unconscious sister and his groaning men away into the brush.
Silence fell over the path once more.
Roya stood frozen by the bags, her eyes wide. She had known Lucas was strong. She knew he had effortlessly fought off the crazed mob of villagers and the local churchmen back in Oakhaven. But seeing it here, seeing the sheer, casual perfection of his swordsmanship...
It was terrifying. And it was exactly what she needed.
Lucas stretched his neck, turning back toward her. "Hey, brat. Let's keep going."
Roya jolted back to reality, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Y-yeah."
As she picked up the heavy sack of supplies, her grip tightened on the rough fabric. (If I want to survive this world,) she thought, her eyes fixed on his broad back. (If I want to ever stand on my own two feet without running... I have to learn how to do that.)
Her resolve cemented into unbreakable stone. She was going to make him teach her how to fight, no matter what it took.