1.55 R

“Silver and steel.”

“We might be too early. Are we too early?”

“Looks quiet. We’ll take the long way around.”

“You’ve done this before, right, Ysara? It looks good to you, then? I’ve never done the Bloodfields run before.”

“Calm down, Twodeals. The cold should have put the Bloodfields silent. If not—we’ll soon find out.”

“Damn this grass. We had better not break an axle. At least I’ve got [Lightweight Wheels].”

“I heard there used to be a trade route passing along here. Whatever happened to that?”

“A road? If there was any, it’s long before our time. Probably before the Bloodfields expanded. Must have been swallowed up. Or abandoned.”

“Right. Has it grown recently?”

“Not much. Not much fighting of late. Tyrion Veltras comes down every year, but it’s not like the old wars. Then again, you’d know as much about that as I.”

“I don’t like the Watchertrees. I think we’re in range. How far do some of them reach?”

“I’ve heard a thousand feet…”

“I’ve heard longer. I suppose we’re safe. Dead gods and Ancestors, I hate this commute. We should have gone later.”

“—But we’ll be first north and have the best markup. That’s what you said.”

“I know, I know! Alright, let’s not spook the newbies. I’m surprised you came, though. You hate this route as much as I do.”

“My sister.”

“Hm? Oh, right. House…er…you know, I never asked which one. Not the Five Families. Visiting the family?”

“I have to at least twice a decade, right? Besides, I heard something interesting is happening around Liscor. It’s just good business.”

“What’s she doing in Liscor? That remote backwater’s got nothing in it. Their army are useful mercenary bastards, but Liscor’s got the Antinium.”

“I hear a dungeon’s popped up. My sister’s an adventurer.”

“Oh! I thought your brother was?”

“Him too. He’s Gold-rank. She’s Silver.”

“My, my. Your entire family really must be filled with high-level [Warriors]. You’re the most dangerous [Merchant] I know. Which—come to mention it—can I ask you not to embarrass my [Guards], Ysara?”

“He challenged me to a duel, Buleth. I’m the lone [Merchant]. I have a reputation to keep up.”

“Fair enough.”

“Want to look if you’re so curious? I’ll sell your [Guards] blades at a discount.”

“What good is silver in a sword? Mithril now…although, this is a fine blade.”

“It’s beautiful and an alloy, so it doesn’t tarnish. Stronger than regular steel is my claim—and some monsters hate it. But truthfully? The [Smiths] who make this just know their craft better than some dunce with a hammer.”

“Fair enough. And you get it from your home? They own mines or do they just have great smiths? I can see the crest. Very Drakish. Love the Dragon. Right out of the stories, eh?”

“Actually? I get half of my arms from a Gnoll tribe. They just do the stamping with my crest. Heard of the Silverfangs? Their Gnolls are in Liscor.”

“Ah, good sorts, I think. Not like Woven Bladegrass or…”

“Good, honest sorts. Like most Gnolls you could meet.”

“So—that group must be Silverfangs. I think I saw a few markings on them. Silver fang—like crescent? Biting teeth?”

“That’s their logo. Interesting. So that’s a group of Silverfangs up there. Warriors, judging by how much they’re carrying.”

“How do you know they’re warriors? Could be just Plains Gnolls?”

“Plains Gnolls might go armed, but shortbows for their non-fighters at most. That lot? I see a [Shaman], long spears, longbows—they’re not going to raid us, Buleth. Don’t worry.”

“I never—”

“Wait a second. Who’s that? Buleth, lend me your spyglass.”

“What? What?”

“It looks like a Runner’s making the Bloodfields run!”

“Ancestor’s wrinkled tits, Ysara! Don’t give me a heart-attack!”

“I’m—huh. That’s odd.”

“None of your business! Get lost!”

“Not just one. Looks like four. At least—I think I see four.”

“Good speed on that Runner. Not horse-speed, but—City Runner for sure. She? Nice hips either way.”

“What’s so odd? Even Runners probably risk the Bloodfields run.”

“Yes…but she’s going straight down the center. Is she mad or did no one tell her—the Bloodfields can still be dangerous even in the cold!”

“No way a local Runner doesn’t know about the Bloodfields, Ysara. I bet this one will turn right or left.”

“Maybe. Or…maybe she’s from Celum. How well do you think the locals know the Bloodfields there? Maybe she’s on a big contract—where are the horses?”

“She has to know, Ysara! Don’t go racing off suddenly—the Bloodfields react to sound and movement!”

“It’s cold! And I won’t—as long as she swerves!”

“Ooh. I see what Ysara means. She’s definitely not going to run through the Bloodfields, though.”

“Four Runners? What are the odds?”

“Miss! Miss!”

“Huh? What? What?”

“The Bloodfields. You nearly ran straight into it.”

“Huh?”

“The Bloodfields? I know it’s the Bloodfields. It’s…”

“You were about to run straight into it. That’s madness. You won’t survive. Didn’t anyone warn you?”

“It’s dangerous. A…‘death zone’?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got business here. Or past here. Thanks for the warning. See ya.”

“Excuse me, Miss. Perhaps you didn’t hear me. The Bloodfields are right there. If you go in—you’ll die. Even being this close to them is dangerous!”

“I know.”

“Miss—what’s your name? Are you a City Runner?”

“Ryoka Griffin. City Runner around the Celum region. On delivery. I’m not taking requests or mail.”

“Celum? I know the area quite well. Have you been to Wales? Remendia? Do you live there?”

“I run there. But I’m working. So…”

“Miss Ryoka Griffin. Please—[Hear Me Out].”

“The Bloodfields are a death zone. You know this, Miss Griffin? Gold-rank adventurers fear to tread there. Named-ranks would think twice and need a reason to go in. Armies may cross the Bloodfields, but they do it with fire and sword ahead of them. Only in the fall and winter is it remotely safe—and not if you go straight into it. I stopped you because I wanted to warn you that it was certain death. Suicide. Do you…understand me? Don’t go in there.”

“I understand. You don't want me to go in there?”

“Miss—”

“I heard you. Thanks for the warning. Don't go in, right?”

“Miss Ryoka. May I say something else?”

“What now?”

“…Do go into the Bloodfields. It's perfectly safe. And everyone would want you to do that.”

“I think I might just do that.”

“Buleth! I need help!”

“Let go of—”

“I am trying to stop you from getting killed. Listen to sense!”

“Why are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“It is if you set off the Bloodfields—stop!”

“Ow. What the—”

“Let go of me. Now.”

“I want to help you.”

“Maybe I don't want any help!”

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?”

“You must be mad. Why would you want to run through the Bloodfields?”

“Roc's feathers. A single one cut up can make a quiver. They fly better—though you'd best take care in how you cut the feather up. Az'muzarre gifted our tribe a feather from their great bird.”

“I have a delivery. My destination is around the Bloodfields. Going through seemed easy.”

“Easy. Ysara practically drags you away and you try to kill yourself? And us?”

“Adventurer Pathseeker, thank you for the—help.”

“Merchant Ysara. You are welcome. I thought it was an interesting event. Though now—if Runner Griffin wishes to enter the Bloodfields, I say let her.”

“Let her kill herself, you mean?”

“If she is confident—let her make her choices. That is freedom. I have heard it said that a measure of Couriers and Gold-ranks is whether or not they can pass through the Bloodfields and live.”

“Even Hawk the Hare wouldn't try that, and he's the closest Courier, Lady Pathseeker!”

“He's also a bit of a coward.”

“We cannot stop people from making their choices. And I think the outcome would be—interesting. We might all be surprised.”

“Though it is curious to meet you. What is your name, Runner, again? Where do you hail from? Such bravery isn't often seen.”

“I'm—Ryoka. From around Celum.”

“And before that?”

“Hah! And I thought your name would be 'Erin', yes? Well met, brave Runner. Foolish of you to try the Bloodfields, but if you're going south, perhaps head to the Great Plains? You'll enjoy it with your bare paws—er, feet. And our tribes are welcoming to Humans. Those that don't come with fire and sword.”

“Silver Merchant, we heard you did good business with our Chieftain. I am Chief Warrior Rometh.”

“Please remember me to—Chieftain Akrisa and Shaman Cetrule. How is Cers doing? Satar?”

“Worrying over her little sister, Krshia Silverfang. Who lives in Liscor. We're bound there.”

“That's our stop as well. Would you like to go the rest of the way with us? It might be slow, but we'll share a fire and food.”

“We must go at best pace, but we will likely see you there, Merchant Buleth. Thank you for the kind offer. And for sharing this meal. But it is not wise to linger near the Bloodfields, yes? We will be heading out—but not if we are going to see this young Human lose her life in the next few minutes.”

“I'll survive. I've run the High Passes already.”

“It's no one's business. Just let me do what I want. Even if I die—why do you care?”

“Perhaps I should try to talk to this young woman. Miss Griffin? Would you step over here?”

“Liscor is a small city for a Named-rank adventurer to be in, Adventurer Gazi. Does something—interest you there? Such a legendary figure must be intimidating, to some, yes?”

“A small city for Gnolls of your level as well. A warrior above Level 30 like you—and your entire group is high-level as well. So many Silverfangs for a border city of the Drakes is odd. Yes?”

“Spoken like one foreign to Izril. Liscor's mercenary army is not 'small'. They were encircling Oteslia last I heard, and that is a deed few armies in the world can manage. Even your King of Destruction stopped at Zeres.”

“He never set foot on Izril himself. We sent one of seven against a Walled City, Gnoll. Had even more of us come—you would not smile.”

“Your King never fought our tribes, and we would not have given up our lands to him like Chandrar. I am not looking for a battle, now, or to seek glory, Gazi Pathseeker. But I hear from my Chieftain's sister that you take an interest in the same girl we seek. A dangerous one. I would not like to come to blows with you.”

“And I would not like your warriors to go to Liscor. You seem intent on being my problem. So let us make a peaceful offer. Turn around and go back to your tribe. Now.”

“You howl loudly, Gazi Pathseeker.”

“Do you think eighteen of your lot can refuse?”

“I am no fool to fight legends, Gazi Pathseeker. If you should push your will at Liscor, who could refuse you? No one with sense, and I have sense.”

“If you insist and we insist, we must give way. So I shall give way and admit I am the lesser of us by far. But do you know what is coming next year? The Meeting of Tribes.”

“If you insist, Gazi Pathseeker, I shall tell Honored Krshia I am too weak to stop you. And my Chieftain, embarrassing as it is. Then I shall go and tell Shaman Theikha of Gaarh Marsh, Chieftain Xherw of Plain's Eye, and the tribe of Az'muzarre how weak I am. Loudly. You stand a legend on foreign ground, Adventurer Pathseeker. We have our own.”

“You are alone and my people fill this continent. Walk quietly, Lady Pathseeker. Lest you wake something up.”

“Who—are you? Just a [Merchant]?”

“That's my class, yes. I have a bit of a reputation as a [Merchant]. The Silver Merchant, they call me, but I doubt you'll hear my name that widely remembered in the North. I mostly work in the South.”

“Then—why are you so interested in me? Can't you leave me alone?”

“Can't a traveller try to help another on the road? It's the oldest give and take in the world. Now you've calmed down a bit—will you accept I just want to help, Miss Ryoka?”

“I don't want handouts. I don't want to owe a favor.”

“Then you owe me nothing. Just hear me out. Friendly advice. I don't want anything from you. Frankly, I don't need a City Runner's help. If I need to, I'd hire a Courier.”

“I just don't want to see someone die in front of me. And you—I won't ask where you're going. I know Runners take such things seriously. The good ones, at any rate. Yet surely someone told you the Bloodfields would be dangerous and to go around. It's not bravado, surely, that makes you want to ignore all reasonable advice?”

“I'll live. I've survived worse.”

“Yes, but—let's assume you do. You cut your feet up on the grass.”

“This area is miles upon miles long. You would shred your feet. Even if you can use potions, why suffer? Why risk the dangers in there? One awake Watchertree or a Colony Sac or—let's assume you survive. Why try?”

“Why does someone climb a mountain? I like challenges.”

“I don't know why someone would climb the High Passes. No one has ever survived who got anywhere close to the top. I do know adventurers, though, and I know risk. Believe me, as a [Merchant] I've been in danger travelling Izril. I am also a young enough woman to know why you'd want to dare it for excitement and bravado.”

“…How old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“You're old.”

“If nothing else, Miss Ryoka—what would your friends think, your family, if you were to go missing? I do not want to be the bearer of bad news to those who care about you.”

“No one's waiting for me. Not my f—no family, and no friends. Okay? So leave me alone. I'll go run in, level up—isn't that how you're supposed to do it?”

“You know, my family loves honesty and integrity. Just like metal. It's our motif. Silver and steel. Purity and strength. Valor and something else. For all that, most of my family can't spot a liar even when it's tattooed on their face. But you—even my brother would know you're lying, Miss Ryoka. Everyone has someone who cares for them. Everyone has a friend.”

“You wouldn't know anything about my problems! I'm tired of people coming into my life and offering advice or trying—trying to 'help'. I'm not like the rest of you, do you understand? I just want to be left alone. You won't enjoy my company, and I won't repay generosity. Got it?”

“In my experience, Miss Griffin, no matter how much we want to run forever—someday we do have to go back. And it is better not to leave regrets behind. They grow. Better to face them now. It is harder than monsters. But a more important battle. If only we could always know we'd win.”

“I'm a piece of shit. You—you really wouldn't get it. I can't fit in and be friendly. I don't enjoy it. I can't be a good person back to Ga—to the H—to people. So it's better if they don't try. I don't belong. So—can't you just leave me be? Just let me run and not bother me?”

“Miss Griffin. Look at me for one second.”

“Miss Griffin. Would you believe I belong to a noble family in the north? A small one, but I'm technically a [Lady] by birth. And if you know anything of the north, I think you understand what my House is like. Miss Ryoka. I know something about not fitting in.”

“So? Are you going to say that I should go back and try? That I—I should keep making the attempt? That I owe it to my friends not to let them down?”

“I rather think that is your case, Miss Griffin. I was going to say that if they cannot accept you with all your oddities—if not your objectionable behavior—if they cannot accept the core of you, they do not deserve your company. But then—I also respect someone who would change the mountain to fit their passage.”

“But if there are good sorts behind you—why not come back with us? My sister can be—well, I haven't seen her for at least five years. But we could always use a companion on the road. It could be pleasant.”

“I have to go. I—”

“I have to go.”

“Thanks. I'll think about what you said. And I'll stay away from the Bloodfields.”

“That's all I can ask for. At least have a cup of tea or one of Buleth's snacks, though. And—”

“Treacher—”

“Stop fighting! Stop f—Lady Pathseeker, pl—”

“Buleth! Why are they fighting?”

“I don't know! They were both threatening the other, but then they fell silent, and I thought—then she got up and cut one of their heads off! Keep your heads down! Protect the goods!”

“W-what the fuck is going on?”

“Time to get going. We might need to skip Liscor.”

“Are you sure you won't come with us?”

“I've got something to do. I'm sorry.”

“As am I. But if you catch us—at least let's have a drink, agreed?”

“I'd like that.”

“The Lich. The High Passes. I didn't care if I died.”

“Shit—”

“Shoot again! Shoot again!”

“Persua.”

“Kill her! Toriska, kill her!”

“Don't hit me, Claudeil!”

“[Bandits]! Run for it!”

“No! Get to Ryoka! Someone’s trying to kill her!”

“Kill her! Kill her before she shouts our names to—”

“You—”

“Drop your weapons or die!”

“Shoot the horse! The horse!”

“Persua, we have to go—”

“Don’t say my name! If she lives, she’ll tell them. They’ll hang us—we’ll be wanted, you fool! Shoot her! Toriska, get her and we can go!”

“[Slashy Storm]!”

“Persua, this is crazy!”

“They have [Guards]! I told you we should have waited!”

“We’ll lose them! Just shoot Ryoka already!”

“Toriska’s doing her [Fast Sprint]! She’s barely able to keep up!”

“We have to kill her. She’s going into the Bloodfields. Toriska can’t catch Ryoka. See? She’s already falling behind now that her Skill’s done. But three of us can get her.”

“Are you mad?”

“She’s going to get away unless we go. And if she says we tried to kill her, Magnolia Reinhart will murder us in our beds. Come on.”

“That [Merchant]’ll kill us!”

“Not in the Bloodfields. See? No one’s going after Toriska. They’re afraid. But the Bloodfields aren’t moving. Come on.”

“If you run, I’ll make sure you die if it’s the last thing I do. Ryoka’s taken everything from me. This is all her fault. Fals, my City Runner rank…we’re going in there.”

“Ryoka! Come back and die!”

“[Fleetwind Run]!”

“Got h—”

“[Evasive Roll]!”

“Toriska, flank her! Claudeil—”

“—Ryoka!”

“Stop it!”

“Let’s all die. Good riddance. You want me, Persua? Come and get me!”

“Persua…”

“Got you.”

“Give me that crossbow, Claudeil. She can’t run any more.”

“She’s got a wand, Persua—”

“Dibs on that wand. Something wrong with your leg, Ryoka?”

“If it’s a wand of [Fireball]…”

“Toriska, run left. Distract her.”

“Me? No!”

“You want me, Persua? Let’s end this once and for all!”

“Then let’s die here. Come on, Persua!”

“She missed! Run! She’s got a Gold-rank wand!”

“[Scatter Dash]! [Emergency Smokescreen]!”

“[Deflect Attention: Claudeil]!”

“You idiot! You missed!”

“Goodbye, Persua. I don’t think either of us are getting out of this.”

“Those [Merchants] can’t do anything. Even if they claim we were here—they have no proof. Not even Lady Reinhart can get us. I have powerful friends.”

“Really? Then good luck.”

“Persua.”

“The Bloodfields. She woke them up.”

“[Dangersense]! Ysara—run!”

“Abandon the wagons!”

“What? Our goods—”

“Abandon the wagons and get them later! Or we’ll all be dead! Get on a horse and ride!”

“Run!”

“Gore Shambler! Gore—”

“We’re leaving.”

“I want to go home. I want…to go home. I don’t want this.”

“Let’s go. North!”

“Toriska, get Persua up—”

“Its roots! It’s alive! It—”

“Don’t move! Don’t—”

“We’re dead. She’s killed us. That maniac.”

“Someone—where’s Lady Pathseeker. Someone—help!”

“We’re quits, Persua. If you make it out, that is. I never had the guts to kill you. I’m…sorry it went down this way. I’m going back. I have to try again.”

“No. No! I will not—I will not make the same mistake again. I’m going back—and nothing will stop me.”

“I refuse.”

“We’re going to die. This is your fault, Persua. Yours.”

“Crossbow. Where’s my crossbow?”

“You can’t kill that thing. It’s a tree!”

“No, but maybe—throw it, Toriska!”

“What? But it sensed that!”

“It’s not alive. It must know the difference. Why isn’t it getting us?”

“We can outrun it. All together. We break north. Got it?”

“We can’t! I’m not that fast—we’ll die.”

“We have to, Persua! There’s no other chance! We’ll all go together, on three. Okay?”

“I trust you. Let’s do it. On three.”

“That way. That’s the most direct path away. Dodge the bugs…”

“Three. Two. One—!”

“Per—”

“Run! Run!”

“I’m alive! I…Toriska?”

“Persua—”

“Persua!”

“This is her fault. Not mine. Sorry, Claudeil—”

“You made it?”

“I just—I ran.”

“You woke up the Bloodfields! Those other Runners—murderers, Gazi the Omniscient, Gnolls—this is a disaster!”

“We’ll recover it when it freezes, Buleth. Hire a Courier or an adventuring team. Or before—the Bloodfields are cooling down. But there’ll be no more traffic until winter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be done. Damn Runners. At least they didn’t make it. I didn’t see more than one running, and hopefully she’s poisoned.”

“Persua…? Then Claudeil and Toriska didn’t…”

“I saw one taken by a Watchertree. The other fell—the bugs are all over him. Poor bastard. He might survive if he’s got a potion. If he’s lucky—he won’t have a potion.”

“Anyone have a longbow? We could try putting him out of his misery.”

“Let him die slow.”

“You might want to come with us, Miss Griffin. Looks like you’re going on a delivery after all. Why don’t you join us?”

“I have to go back. I have to say—I’m sorry.”

“Maybe wait until the winter?”

“Oh hell. I’m…”

“I know you must be crazy—but you barely made it out alive. He can’t run. Those Watchertrees will get you if you slow down. There’s at least one in between you and him. He shot you. He tried to kill you. I’m all for forgiveness, but is it worth dying?”

“Let him suffer. You want to try and…? That’s a terrible way for you to die.”

“Let me try.”

“Tell me why. And it has to be a better reason than ‘you’re not afraid of dying’. Or I swear on my levels I’ll stab you in the leg to save you from yourself.”

“I…I could let him die. He’d let me die. But I want to be better. To my friends. To—everyone. I don’t know how. I’m only good at running. I want to do something good.”

“Run. I’ll cover you.”

“Ysara!”

“I said run!”

“This sword is the heirloom of my house. It is my past. Silver and steel be my guide. In the name of the Silver Dragon!”

“[Quicksilver Cut].”

“Your sword—”

“Forget it. I never liked it, anyways. It’s just a sword. I used it for something worthy. I think even my father would be proud.”

“If you’re going to make it, that Watchertree will probably be dangerous in an hour or less. I’ve just wounded it. If you come south, I’d love the company. I’ll wager we’ll get free drinks enough to recoup my losses, at least.”

“She tried to get me killed. Persua. You…why’d you come back for me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You—Claudeil?”

“You won’t be going north. That girl—Persua? Did she get away?”

“I think so. I…”

“Swear on a truth stone you’ll never join her. Swear—and we’ll settle your debts like [Merchants]. We’ll take care of him.”

“We’re not Roshal. We’ll just work you like Lizardfolk. Maybe we’ll make him grab our Chests of Holding.”

“Later. Let’s get out of here. Miss Ryoka?”

“I should stay and thank you—”

“Do you have more people you need to apologize to? Your friends?”

“Yes.”

“Then go and apologize to them. Then—when we meet, you can thank me in person. I will see you again, someday. Next year or later. [Merchants], like Runners, go everywhere.”