Chapter 41: How to get to a city that wants you dead (1)
The heat felt thicker here. It wasn’t just the sun — it was the kind of heat that blends with tension, that clings to your skin and makes every breath feel like a mistake. The road ahead, until now deserted, was now partially blocked by three mounted figures and two more on foot, all of them wearing the expression of men who didn’t believe in coincidences — much less in lone travelers with genuine luck.
My eyes swept the scene before a single word was spoken. The larger rocks off the roadside... good for ambushes. The tall brush to the north probably hid more people. Their horses were thin, but well-outfitted. They weren’t just hunting for coins. They were used to intimidation. To collecting.
"Stay where you are," one of them shouted, his voice rough — like it had been sanded down by smoke and bad intentions.
I raised a hand in peace, but didn’t let go of my pickaxe. Thalia, a few steps behind me, kept her gaze locked on the men, one hand drifting subtly toward the side of her satchel — as if it held something more than fabric and patches.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," I said, with the smile I used when trying to sell a lie gift-wrapped as truth. "Can I help you with something? Or are you just admiring my outfit?"
The one who seemed to be the leader dismounted with exaggerated weight, like each step was saying I am the problem. He had a scraggly beard, sunken eyes, and a scar along his jaw that made it look like smiling was an act of violence against his own face.
"Nice clothes. Ugly face. Let’s keep it simple: you give us the coin, the supplies, and the girl, and no one has to die."
I sighed. So this was it.
The first human threat since leaving Ashveil.
And, as usual, no subtlety.
"Look, I get the impulse," I said, keeping my voice low. "I’ve tried stealing things that didn’t belong to me. But this time... it’s not going to work out for you."