Ten Weeks to Tercio

[Chandra]

Ettermire was nothing less than a great show in Afzel’s imagination as he jaunted down its busy streets. The factories’ metallic percussion, giant bells, and shift horns created a symphony that echoed throughout the city at all hours. The chorus of mixed Alerarian and Common conversation filled his ears, and the people. Oh the people! They did their daily dance so well that there was no misstep in sight even as they occasionally broke file to take notice of the joyful half breed invading their space. He passed with his soul exposed ready to be pierced by those silver eyes under the black luminescence of the street lights. This was the Dirty Vaudeville of Lights, and Afzel Chandra appreciated it to say the least. He wanted to bask in the big city warmth for just a little while longer, but he was on his way out.

Afzel would be on his way North, Kachuck to be exact; cold, desolate, rigid old Kachuck. Just thinking about it made him shiver under his black poncho. There would be no social gatherings, crowded bars, or fine wine and women here. There would only be Dwarves, ore, and a job. It wouldn’t be his first job as a mercenary, but it was his first job given to him by his father, whom he had been at odds with for a year now due to his career decision to become a mercenary.

Out of the five children in the diverse Chandra household, Afzel looked to be the one most likely to follow in Elranatil Chandra’s footsteps. Elranatil was a mid ranking commander in the former Alararian Army, and Afzel often accompanied him on small campaigns, participated in training camps, and had friendly sparring matches with him as a means of recreation. He was even crafted a blade on his twentieth birthday, his trusty Schiavona, which hung at his left side even now. It came as a shock to Afzel and the entire family when his father strictly forbade him to participate in the world conflict two years ago. Elranatil’s reasoning was that he and their mother, Yora’Xil, strived to raise their children with an objective world view untainted by any form of allegiance. To enter the warzone at that precise moment would leave Afzel with only two choices; blindly follow Alerarian nationalism, or go to war with his own father.

Afzel fully understood the logic behind his father’s decision, and once an acceptable “peace” was made he announced that he would become a mercenary. He would be free of any allegiance or predominant bias, thus led only by his objective heart. Elranatil was pissed! In all his centuries of life never once did he meet a mercenary that he liked, much less respected. Afzel was still welcome to family dinners, but every time he could expect his father to pull him aside and lecture him about the temptations of fortune. However, the most recent time was different. Instead of torturing the young Half Elf’s ear, Elranatil offered him a job. He accepted without hesitation hoping to get back on good terms with his father.

He was thinking that now it may have been a mistake as he approached the north gate of the city. There a rather large caravan was preparing to take leave. There were at least two hundred men, mostly Dark Elves and a few Humans preparing thirty full sized wagons, each ready to be towed by four shire horses. He had to find his client before the myriad of tactical conflicts in his head gave him a migraine. Afzel made for the closest wagon and scaled atop it despite surrounding objections. “Is there an Eliiz Whiteshot in the house? Eliiz Whiteshot!”

“That would be me. Come down.” A Dark Elf just below him waved. He was dressed in clothing befitting that of a traveler, but there were a few tell tale signs that he had money. One of which being the shape of the clothing. They were brand new, his silver hair was clean, strait, and lined well, and his hands hadn’t seen an honest day’s work. “You must be Afzel.”

“That I am.” Afzel dropped down with a courteous smile on his face and extended his hand. “I see preparations are under way. I must have arrived right on time.”

“Indeed you did. We should be departing within the hour, but before we talk let’s take a quick walk around the block just to bid adieu to our fair city.” Eliiz, significantly taller than Afzel put his arm around him and mumbled quietly. “I don’t want to startle anyone. Let’s just wait a minute.”

Afzel complied and the two made small talk until they turned the corner. That’s when the young mercenary had to let it out. “My word! That is the largest caravan I’ve ever seen. If it was like that last year I can see why you got attacked.”

“That was not my choice.” Eliiz’s morale building smile was now gone as he leaned back on a street lamp and crossed his legs. “My Mistress figured she’d order a larger shipment of ore from Kachuck in two orders and that way these bandits can’t take all of it. The Nobility’s way of thinking is beyond my common logic.”

“Mistress, eh? And here I thought you were the man with the money. I thought these were all independent merchants.” Afzel said as he glanced around the corner to keep an eye on them. “My father told me they were all private merchant groups banning together for more comprehensive protection.”

“And that is true too, but my Mistress is the one who loaned them all the start up money. She isn’t a very pushy woman, but when she does push it’s usually the wrong way.” Eliiz lowered his chin as he smirked. “She’d cut my head clear off if she heard that.”

“So what am I doing filling the shoes of a small army?” Afzel said as he crossed his arms. “Tell me everything I need to know.”

“Every year these merchants go to Kachuck and purchase the best ore from the Dwarves there; iron, mythril, copper, and other fine metals. They bring that ore back to Ettermire, sell it to smiths who make everything from weapons to eating utensils, and the smiths sell it all back to them. Then with those goods in hand they go to Etheria Port to sell them to consumers and other merchants. For ten weeks they go back and forth between Ettermire, Kachuck, and Etheria working a delicate balance of supply and demand. It provides nearly eighty percent of their annual income, and last year that delicate balance was interrupted by a team of bandits on horseback. Up until now every merchant team would travel on their own time making the pickings easy.”

“When and where would they attack?”

“Daylight. They focused on the path to and from Kachuck. They would stalk their targets as early as the Fields of Khu’Fein and attack at the foot of the mountains. They were armed with simple swords and magic, small in number but it was enough to get what they wanted. They’d take everything short of the clothes on the merchant’s backs leaving them with no money to purchase at Kachuck. If not then they’d attack on the way back and take the ore, leaving nothing to sell in Ettermire. Luckily these are all good financers who manage their money well, and most of them had back up plans, but none are as good as this.”

“And none as safe as this.”

“You’re telling me? There’s chaos on both boarders and a civil war in Corone, and they profit from it no doubt, but it’s better to sell and get the money here rather than in the thick of things.”

“Well if your Mistress can afford shire horses instead of oxen she can afford to hire a small army to protect these men.” Afzel said as he crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “What use would one man be against multiple bandits on horseback when it comes to protecting a caravan as large as this?”

“First of all, you’ll be provided a top of the line Khu’Fein stallion, much smaller, faster, and intelligent than the ‘expensive oxen’ pulling our caravan. Secondly, and more importantly, my Mistress knows she can afford an army, but she wants an expert’s opinion instead of just throwing money at the situation. Not only are you here to protect the caravan, but you are here to assess the situation and provide a permanent solution to the problem.” Eliiz paused for a moment. He put a hand on Afzel’s shoulder and peered into his soul with a pair of silver eyes. He hadn’t been more serious than at this moment. “Your father spoke very highly of you. When I asked him to take the job he said you were better for it. Can I and my Mistress count on you to come up with a solution to this problem?”

“I charge by the day.” Afzel said with a smile.

[Grammar_police]

The old wagon creaked and cringed as it took the weight of the last sack. It was an extremely old wagon, made of some wood that was impossible to tell, due to its years of repairs. Virgil did a last minute check around him to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, and satisfied he didn’t, sprung up the back of the wagon and into the supplies, likely ruining some in the process. He pushed away several bags of food and other items to make a comfortable seat for himself that looked out the back of the wagon. The driver, an old dark elf with a slightly wrinkled face looked back through the porthole to see things were ready, and without saying a word slapped the horse on its side, starting them off.

The shade from the wagon cover was relaxing after loading all the equipment in the hot sun. He laid back, relieved at the thought of finally being able to leave Alerar. The entire trip had been a disappointment. Nothing much was expected to begin with, in fact the only reason he came was because he was offered a free room on the ship. That and of course the fantastical rumors he heard about them and there otherworldly technology. At first it was marvelous, the way they lived, but the marvel was not long lasted. The elves were secretive, even in their own land they would not let him see there ways of training. So the entire time was spent outside there weapons academies, trying to get inside. The worst of it all was Ettermire; it was mostly an industrial city, with nothing but noise everywhere. There was no escaping it, normally noise was a problem, but here was different; there was no hiding form it, around every corner there was the clack clacking of a smith at work.

The wagon was the key to get out of this godforsaken city. The old elven man was his saving grace, he offered a ride to the port for only a small price, but only after he made a trip north to the plains for himself. A little peace would be well worth the minor boredom he would suffer along the way. Virgil watched out the back of the wagon as it trailed the city streets. They were coming close to the city gates, and after that it would only be a day or two before they finished what the old man needed to do. He knew they were coming close to the northern gate by the widening of the road into a cargo bay.

Crack! The wagon floated several seconds before descending to the ground. All the supplies in it toppled over and nearly covered the already tumbled passenger. It slowed to a near stop, only continuing because of the frightened horse. The confused passenger hoisted himself out from underneath the scattered supplies and out of the wagon to look at the damage. The axle had broken under the weight of the equipment and the added person, before they could even reach the gates. This was just the kind of thing that could be expected with his luck, so now once again he was stuck in Ettermire.

[Chandra]

“Come. I’ll introduce you to some of the merchants.” Eliiz said as he started back towards the massive caravan. “They’re some of the best people I know. They’ll make these next ten weeks fly by like one day. They’re that entertaining.”

“So what language do they speak?”

“What language does any reputable merchant in Althanas speak? What language are we speaking now? Common.” Eliiz led Afzel to a wagon near the center of the pack, where two Dark Elves and a Human leaned against a metallic wheel almost as large as them. They each greeted Eliiz with a casual familiarity and he introduced each of them from left to right. “Afzel Chandra, this is Kirin Tomahawk, Lesex Killrock, and Dylan Hayes.”

The names did not befit the faces. Kirin Tomohawk was a hardy Alerarian with a soft smile. He was muscle bound and the only person in proximity to be as tall as the giant wheel, but it was rare to see a Dark Elf so enthusiastically show off his pearly white teeth. It was compromising to camouflage. Lesex nodded apathetically as he lit a pipe in his mouth. He was smaller than Kirin, and his skin tone was an unusual ashen grey. Dylan, with a hand leaning on the wheel, and another on his hip, nodded with a sly smirk on his face. He was an amber man, with brown hair and eyes that were borderline luminescent. They were all in attire fit for the occasion, tunics, pants, cloaks and even furs for the mountainous part. Dylan was the first to speak.

“Welcome to the herd.” He said with a handshake. “So how much ore do you intend on buying?”

“Afzel’s not here for trade.” Eliiz answered before Afzel could even think of a response. “He’s a consultant observing our situation on behalf of the Mistress.”

The three of them stood up straight with tension. Their chests inflated like balloons, and their chins pointed to the clouds. Afzel’s instincts told him that they’d heard that response from Eliiz before. It must have resulted in less than desirable circumstances. These men, first welcoming, were now in the mood to fight. Even Kirin’s all too warm smile turned into a cold face of a soldier.

“Now, fellas, we don’t have to do this.” Afzel said with a smile on his face. It wasn’t a nervous smile. It was a smile of genuine enthusiasm. His last few missions saw no use of his Schiavona. Now, only a few minutes into this one he was secretly reaching for it under his poncho. Still he had to be diplomatic. “I’m here to serve your best interest.”

“It’s true. He is.” Eliiz stepped in between the mercenary and the merchants. “This one’s cool. I know his father and I recruited him myself.”

“Really?” Kirin said with a deep bass voice that complimented his image perfectly. “So the Lady trusts you with making hires now? What’d you do to earn that? Wait… Do I even want to know?”

Everyone erupted in laughter, including Eliiz. Afzel’s chuckle was a delayed reaction. He’d waited to see if it was okay to laugh. Eliis responded. “It was simple, really. The last few consultants got on all the merchants’ nerves, so I offered to hire the next guy.”

“So that was after the sweaty, hot, love making in her canopy bed.” Kirin persisted as did the laughing, but it suddenly stopped at the sight of a Dark Elf in his middle ages. An elf’s age wasn’t as apparent as it was in other intelligent beings of the world due to their extremely long life expectancy. Muscle mass didn’t always wither away. Arthritis and the weakening of the bones weren’t always prevalent in the aging elf. The one thing that was consistent in the aging elf was the presence of facial hair. A Dark Elf as young as Afzel couldn’t dream of growing facial hair at his current age. It would only come after his prime had passed. This particular elf wore it proudly as a well trimmed beard. Other than that he was just as energetic as everyone else, but he could expect further deterioration within another century or so.

A warm smile emerged on everyone’s faces at the sight of the middle aged Dark Elf named “Talonfein”. Handshakes and manly hugs followed.

“How’s it shakin’, Mr. Talonfein?” Lesex said after he released his embrace.

“I have no reasons to complain.” Mr. Talonfein said with a scratchy voice of old, and a thick Alerarian accent. “Even in times like this. One can still find a morsel or two to be thankful for, simple things. The weather’s nice and mild so we’ll at least be decent before we hit the mountains. I’m healthy. My favorite misfits are accompanying me on this trip. And I’ve brought along someone that might be of use to us. Eliiz?”

Mr. Talonfein started for the back of the caravan. Eliiz followed and directed Afzel to do the same. It was then that the mercenary realized just how large this caravan was. If forced into a single file formation this caravan could be stretched to a two hundred yard length. No single man on a horse can cross that in a reasonable amount of time, but the answer to that conundrum would reveal itself almost immediately. The three approached Mr. Talonfein’s wagon, which was quite small compared to the juggernaut cargo carriers of the caravan. It had a broken wheel and the supplies were sprawled out along the ground, but at the end of the pile was something different. A man.

Mr. Talonfein turned to Eliiz and spoke quietly in Alerarian “See what wonderful cargo I have. He has two swords, two! He could protect us in exchange for the trip he wants.”

Eliiz turned to Afzel, whose eyes were on this Human male. The man was most definitely a warrior, or at least an aspiring one. Although Eliiz was clearly the head of this operation, it was the mercenary who would make the decision whether or not to use this brute Human. He looked mean, not easy to work with. Nevertheless the caravan at least needed two warriors on horseback. Instead of approaching the Human warrior directly, Afzel approached the wagons only horse and began loosening the reigns. Only when he had the horse loose did he speak.

“Eliiz, do we have any spare saddles?”

Eliiz nodded, “We do, but no stirrups.”

“That’s fine.” He led the horse to the Human. “I’m Afzel, head security consultant for this caravan, which your chauffer is now a part of. In order to continue your trip for free, we’ll need you to assist in the protection of this caravan. If not, you’ll have to pay a transportation fee set at Mr. Talonfein’s convenience.”

Afzel turned to the Human, smiled politely, and awaited an answer.

[Grammar_police]

“Security consultant you say?” Virgil said as he stood up, sporting his big smile, which probably came off more as a maniacal smirk. He slowly walked towards the man holding the horse, trying to look serious even though he was actually glad at his luck. This was his chance to have a bit of fun on his trip. He examined the man. A half elf, and of average size, not very menacing. He wore a giant coat, even though it was already warm outside, and carried a sword. The sword is what caught his eye; it was skinny, like a rapier, and long, but beautifully crafted. It would be nice to be able to see use it was his first thought, but he quickly forced his mind back on the situation.

“Well I see no army with you, and since only an army could protect anything this big, looks like you’ll need all the help you can get. I accept.” He said in his quick, gruff voice as walked forward accepting the horse, then turning back to Afzel. “I wonder if you planned on safeguarding this entire caravan yourself before I came along. Because if you were then my god you must be quite the swordsman. We’ll make a good team, you and I. Damn good thing too, anything with half a goats chance of overwhelming this lot must me big, so looks like we might have our hands full, eh?”

Before letting anyone talk he stepped closer to the other men. “And who are these? Fellow securities? But I think not, not the fighting type they aren’t.” he stood for a second to get a god look at the merchants, who just stood there staring motionless, probably not caring enough to talk, so he spoke out. “Well now don’t just stand there, introduce yourselves!”

Each man walked forward in his turn and introduced themselves, each with a stern face as if they were trying to inspect him to find any hidden problems he might cause, then returning to their former positions to be just as serious.
“Now let me check, Kirin, Lesex, Dylan, Talonfein, and of course my new friend Afzel, I’ll be sure to remember.” He said while turning around to face the other unknown man. “And you are? Ahh, the head of the situation, Eliiz, good to know you.”

"For those of you who don't know me, which i doubt any of you do, i am Virgil, warrior and friend at your service." He said taking a low bow to everyone. “So, now that I know everyone, and you all know me, we can prepare.” He walked back to the wagon and threw himself inside, tumbling around a bit, then emerging with a long skinny sack. Then walked back to the horse and flung it over its back. “I require nothing, incase you were wondering, everything I need I carry with me.” He said while taking a broad look around the loading bay with his big smile. “Everyone looks almost ready to leave, so tell me Afzel. What next.”

[Chandra]

First impressions were deceiving. As Afzel and company approached and first saw the Human, he stood before them a seemingly introverted individual. Afzel thought he was going to get a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ from him. Instead he got a surprisingly articulate and sociable being with a warm smile resembling that of a Coronian politician. The Half-Elf’s eyes stood high as he watched Virgil work those in proximity.

The bewildered mercenary took a moment to process everything before he answered Virgil’s question. “What next? I guess we wait for departure. You guard the rear while I guard the front. We’ll deal with formation changes and night watch as they come.”

Afzel turned away, as did the newly formed posse. Dylan paused for a second. “Oh yeah. I know you said you had everything you needed, but just in case you need anything we let us know. We have some extra food stashed somewhere in the spare parts wagon near the back.”

“So.” Eliiz said with a sinister grin. “Are you ready to meet Istrath?”

“I hope you’re not talking about my horse.” Afzel cocked his head back and laughed. In addition to the unorthodox conditions he was faced with, he was given a horse whose name was Alerarian for ‘Tornado’? “Your Mistress has a twisted sense of humor.”

“Indeed she does.” Eliiz approached a pure auburn equestrian standing at sixteen hands of height. Istrath had a convex profile. The stallion was compact, with powerful hindquarters, and a thick mane and tail. He also had a sloping croup and low-set tail. His low set cresty neck accentuated a broad chest and well-sprung ribs. It was obvious that Istrath was extremely powerful and strong, due to his muscular hindquarters and strong, long legs. Once again, first impressions were deceiving. As intimidating as Istrath looked, he was unassuming in his temperament. Merchants would walk by and give Istrath a pat on the side or a stroke on the nose and he seemed to nod in greeting. “Hop up. When the bell sounds we’ll be on the move.”

Afzel did, and waited for the bell to sound. As he thought of the comments made by Virgil, the logic behind this so called Mistress’ actions were becoming clearer. This caravan was so large it had to have broken some record. For any small group of bandits to attempt to rob something this large would just be stupid. He had no doubt each and every one of these merchants knew how to use weapons to some degree, and even had some with them. If he had to guess, the bandits had numbers on their side last year and that’s what kept the merchants from fighting back. There was no need to hire extensive protection unless the Mistress expected the Reformed Alerarian Army to run up on them. She was right in her assessment. The size of the caravan would be like a heard of wildebeests on the savannah. No lion in their right mind would attack the main body of the heard.

From atop the front wagon came the sound of a bell, and Eliiz’s voice followed. “Three columns! Let’s move!”

The order traveled back, and the cluster of wagons molded into an organized formation. Just before he turned away, Afzel took one last look at the industrial metropolis. A large factory chimney in the distance belched out a golden mushrooming flame. It was as if Ettermire itself was waving a jubilant goodbye to the caravan.

The first two days of the trip were uneventful. The road to Kachuck was well secured by the Alerarian Army, so there was no real need to look out for any would be bandits. Still, Afzel decided to work on a couple of guarding tactics. If there was a blind turn or a hill ahead, either he or Virgil would go well before the caravan to see what was around the corner or above the horizon. As the caravan passed said obstacle the rear guard would linger a little for good measure. The pace of the caravan was consistent and surprisingly fast, as it was kept at a brisk trot. The merchants, who were now using the downtime to socialize, would have to run to move from one wagon to the other. It was like a moving party, and the first two nights were spent in towns who happily took them in. They immediately filled up local inns with business, but they never got too drunk and rowdy. They needed that money for Kachuck, and they had to rise with the sun the next morning. Eliiz ran a well oiled machine.

On the third morning he had the merchants wake up so early that the caravan was ready to leave before sunrise. Much to the complaint of his subordinates he agreed to wait until then. He stood like a stone stature atop his wagon facing east. Only a few moments after conceding to wait he rang the bell. “Three columns! Let’s move!”

Everyone looked back in disappointment when they saw a green smear of light on the eastern horizon. It was a green flash, a common optical phenomenon in this part of Alerar, when a green ray of light preceded the sun as it rose. It was often a light hearted argument as to whether it counted as a part of sunrise. Kirin seemed to represent the entire caravan in their sentiment as he lay on the edge of the front wagon allowing his head and an arm to hang over the side. “Man, Eliiz, you’re killing us here. It’s still blue hour.”

“As far as I’m concerned blue hour passes when the sun is in sight.” Eliiz said as he crossed his arms and sat. The drivers tugged at the ropes and the giant horses began their trot.

“I would beg to differ, but it wouldn’t be of any use. The Mistress is rubbing off on you, Eliiz, and I mean that in every kinky way possible… oow.” Kirin suffered a light kick to the ribs from the caravan master, but he continued to laugh, as did the rest of the group.

Afzel and Istrath maintained an equal pace behind them. “Why do you guys always give him such a hard time about that?”

“Oh we know he’s not really sleeping with the Mistress. He’s the only one of us who knows her real name, he’s the only one whose advice she’ll take seriously, and the two of them are attached at the hip. But that’s not where they should be attached! ... ouch!” Kirin got another kick. “That’s my queue to change the subject. What’s your whole take on the Raiaera situation?”

“My take?” A bittersweet scowl surfaced on Afzel’s olive face. “We need to get our asses in gear before we catch a case of the chaos.”

“Well, last time he didn’t make it here.” Lesex said in between yawns. He was somewhere in the same wagon as Eliiz and Kirin. “What makes ya think he gonna make it here this time?”

“He didn’t make it here because he was stopped. It doesn’t look like anything’s stopping him this time. Use a bit of common sense, gentlemen. If you were Xem'zûnd and you just crushed one of the world’s greatest nations would you stop?”

A long pause followed. “… Hell no!” the clique chimed in unison.

“Thank you. And I’m not talking about just that. Salvar, which we shouldn’t have made an alliance with in the first place, is completely in shambles. We should be angry about that just thinking about how much we’d already invested in that country. And then there’s Corone. If I thought any country was stable, I thought it would have been Corone and now they’re in a civil war. We’re surrounded on all sides, and we’re not ready for any of that if it comes our way.”

“Preparation is the crux of survival and fortune.” Mr. Talonfien said in Alerarian from the opposite side of the wagon.He resumed Common as he turned to the only full blooded human in proximity. “Right, Dylan.”

Dylan crossed his arms and leaned back. “Right you are.”

[Grammar_police]

Virgil trotted along behind the others on his small horse. He was carrying the back side of the caravan while Afzel was further up. The sun had been rising for a short while and had lit most of the viewable plains except the ones far to the west, even though they had left more than an hour ago. It took the sun a long time to fully light everything there. So far in the trip there had been no problems, but now they had past the outskirts of the Alerarian armies territory, and were on there own. Since their departure he had started checking the land for anything when they first started out.

“So where you from?” Called a man several paces away riding a wagon. It was a human, about fifty years of age, and well dressed in Alerarian fashion with long hair braided into a ponytail and a large red hat on.

“Corone.” Virgil lied as he rode his horse closer to the man, trying to look friendly. In fact he didn’t really remember where he was from, but he had to give an answer and a simple one was best to avoid tedious conversation. It was always for several hours in the morning he would feel dreary, and hardly in the mood for socializing, but he tried to appear as usual. “How about you?”

“Same. It’s nice over there for sure, but sometimes, you know, you just have to get away.” The old man answered in his croaky voice.

"How'd you end up here?"

"i dont know, one day I found myself here and couldnt leave. So stayed as a tradesman, the only thing I really know how to do."

“So you’ve made this trip before? Virgil asked.

“Not exactly. I stayed on the ports mostly, handling the goods leaving. I liked everything over there, except my wife. So I left. I’m going to Kachuck.” The man answered, shifting his position on the wagon.

“So you’ve gone and left your wife.”

“Exactly”

“But why?”

“But why not? Can’t you see the beauty of it all? I don’t want to live in a place where every minute I’m told what to do, that would be hell. So that’s why I’m going to Kachuck, they know how to live there. And if one day I decide to stop and leave, well all the better I say, better to do what you know is best for you than what others think is. Theres no war out here, i cant stand wars. The way i see it, you gain nothing by living by the rules of man.

Virgil stared into the distance as the man finished talking. Even though he had gained some interest in this man and would have enjoyed hearing more, something had caught his attention, far to the west. Only a small spec was what he saw, and when he looked again it was too far and to dark to see. He watched the sun spreading light across the plains, showing things previously hidden in the distance. The land started to become more hilly and have small rocks jutting from the grass, going sometimes tens of feet into the air, each containing its own shadows and nooks and crannies.

He stopped. Something shone by the light seemed to move, an unnatural move, though it was completely still a moment ago. An animal was his first thought, but he had a feeling that it was a bit more. He followed it with his eyes for a second along the horizon, trying to make out what it was. The blur, too far in the distance to see clearly, stopped again next to other such things. He squinted and tried his hardest to see what it was, but couldn’t.

“What are you looking at?” The old man said, who had stopped his wagon seeing how Virgil was acting, then turned to see himself. “Is it that group o’ men and horses out in the distance?”

Vigil shot off up the caravan the second he heard what the man had said. He maneuvered through wagons towards his companion at full speed. “Hey Boss! Check west, we might have company!”