Mortality: Chapter 2

It's tiring work, isn't it?

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2. Home is where the Hearth is

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The tavern was exactly as he expected it would be, a perfect fit for a cheap clich/span> fantasy adventure. Nothing remarkable about it when measured against what it could be, but it was still an authentic experience like he rarely had in his own world despite several-hundred year old pubs existing. 'The Iron Flagon' wasn't an especially flattering name either, but the burly man across the counter had mirthful eyes and a passionate welcome. The ceiling felt low, the aged lumber interior dark with the ages of candle smoke from the sconces and ring chandeliers although none were lit yet with sunlight still coming in the windows. The bar was left of the entry where the wall ended and the building extended out another 10 feet in depth. The actual bar fixture was surprisingly short, maybe 8 feet length in total with only 3 seats at it, and the extension beyond it was home to assorted racks of kegs and bottles, pantries and shelves. Where the wall came back up to the dining area there was a door that by the lighting and sounds had to be the kitchen. At the corner of the bar the wall turned back towards the back of the building to a broad set of thick stairs. There were two other doors on the back wall and a fireplace between two wide windows on the wall to his right. There was scattering of tables throughout and a few booths scattered between the corners.


Kire slaps a couple coppers on the counter. "I hear Halgrim's the man with the can around here, I'll have whatever the daily special is and whatever you suggest on tap." Scooping up the coins the robust man with the mutton chop beard smacks down a bronze flagon in their stead. "If by can you mean this, you came to the righ' place. Yes I know it's not Iron like the name but Iron just doesn't work so well with constant liquids, you get it." The gladly fellow hops down from an elevation built onto the back of the bar-Ah, rewind. The burly HALFLING across the counter had mirthful eyes and a passionate welcome. Kire leaned over as the impressively stout halfling heaved a fresh keg over his shoulder from a rack on the back wall behind the counters and effortlessly carries it over to slot into a space under the bar, calling for a daily special through the doorway into the kitchen as he passed it. The keg was already tapped with a spigot and he take the bronze cup down to fill it. "How long have you been in business, O master of taps?" Kire tries to make light conversation while he waits and Halgrim reclaims his perch behind the counter with the ordered drink, looking every bit like a grown human man from there. "Err uh...Coming on almost twenty years now. Best twenty years I could ask for." Kire fondled the great metal mug and realises that although the keg was not refrigerated the drinking vessel had been. It reminded him of a frozen glass of root beer in summer...Except it was normal beer. With the help of barmaids and having narrowly beaten the dinner rush the proprietor had some moments to spare between pours to entertain the new guest. "And you? Where you headed?" Kire shrugs and shakes his head. "Headed here, aren't I? Is Thornwick not a fine enough destination?"


Alternating between drink orders and cleaning Halgrim manages to keep up the conversation without breaking stride, a blend of mobility and attention that showed his experience in the work. "Bit biased as I grew up here but I think Thornwick is plenty fine. Just more of a stopping point for most who always seem to have somewhere else to be. The Guild keeps busy enough dealing with problems from the Eldergrove so it's not all doldrums, plenty of interesting people stop through on the trade routes but it's the kind of place most growing up here get bored of and strike out for the world." Kire understood that well enough. "Yeah, I grew up in a similar place. Time revealed its real charm to me though. The city is overrated." Halgrim finally catches a break, wiping his brow with his sleeve. He picks up a flagon of water he'd had for himself behind the counter and raises it in toast. "To wonderfully boring homes," he laughs. A chime from the kitchen door and one of the bussing hosts who had just started their shift runs for it, balancing three plates on their return and following where Halgrim points drops one off to Kire and swoops the others off to a table. Kire sniffs the plate, picking up his utensils and giving the knife a twirl around his fingers. "What am I looking at chief?"


Halgrim beams after another long draft of his water. "Beef liver with onions, mashed potatoes and turnip! Can't wait for my own plate." Kire starts with a sip of the beer before it loses all chill; it was very light, smoother than he expected. Not especially flavourful either but not bad. It had only a little more bite than water but he supposed it was more catered to those who had long days working the fields trying to refresh themselves than a spoiled party animal like his youth drinking beer so thick you could almost chew on it. "A hearty plate. Can't say I've ever had liver, though I hear it's pretty rich in iron." Kire rolls one of the cuts on his fork with some onions to make sure he gets the full flavour experience and starts digging in. Halgrim refills his water so it would be ready to go when he needed it and sets it down. "Well I don't know about iron in food...But it's good for you and good for your blood!" The doorbell does a good round of ringing with a large chattering crowd filing in as the supper rush commenced proper with the townsfolk wrapping up their day. "That's my cue to hit the kitchen. Anything else before I'm tied?" Kire rushes to swallow to ask the actual important question he had come for in the first place. "Lodgings. Got rooms?" Feeling the rush about to happen Halgrim goes right ahead opening a shallow wall-mounted cupboard. He pulls out a tagged key and tosses it to Kire who almost fumbles it into his plate. "It's a small room but three coppers a night comes with a light breakfast. We'll settle up later, if you have any other questions or needs and don't see me before the night is up just ask any of our staff!" he was already mostly through the kitchen door before he was done talking, clearly pressed to get ahead of their busiest hours. Kire turned to look around and realised that of the dozen tables and three booths about the place it had gone from maybe six people besides himself to nearly at capacity. He'd clocked the odd staffer coming in to grab their aprons but had been oblivious to just how much things were escalating since he was still the only one sitting at the bar proper instead of just swinging by for a refill, short as the bar was. Demolishing the rest of his dinner until absolutely not a speck remained and chugging the rest of his drink he wipes his dining area with a cloth that had been provided and neatly sets the utensils on the plate. He waves to one of the rushing hosts in a staff apron and before they make it all the way over he waves the key in one hand and holds up three coppers in the other. "No rush, just settling my room."


--


The second floor was considerably dimmer since most the walls were blocked by the rooms. There was a single small window at the end of the hall in a shady spot with the adjacent building but he could see the tag had a '6' stamped on it, and he counted only 7 doors. Checking to either side of the hall he finds the one with a '6' carved into it right at the end of the furthest from the stairs on the left and slots the heavy brass key into the antiquated lock. Every little thing feels so different than I'm used to. The buildings, the lighting, simple things like locks and keys. It's like time travel. The sense of it all sent a thunder of excitement through him and he felt like a kid who had finally made it to Disneyland. As promised the room was quite small furnished only with a bare desk, a single bed and a narrow wardrobe but there was no signs of disrepair or pests. It was a half-storey room and the window was in a dormer between the foot of the bed and the desk. He leans down to consider his view and finds the main southbound street of Thornwick he had originally come in on. "I've actually had worse rooms in the twenty-first century," he allows himself to think out loud with the door closed and latched. *Is your world and its people quite consistent about producing low quality?* System jeered from nowhere. "Give it a couple hundred years. When your people discover capitalism you'll get the full crash course." He smooshes his purse into the singular drawer on the desk after removing a single copper for further examining and props his sword against the wardrobe. "So what's the gimmick here, you're actually just going to watch me at all times like a pervert? You some kind of cosmic sicko?" Kire snickers to himself as he pats the bed, checks under the blankets and runs his hands over the material to gauge the mattresses' make and softness. *If I was seeking pleasure I would certainly not settle for your company.* Kire sniffs his armpits and checks himself over next."Oooh, ROWR, someone's a widdle cwanky." You're not the only one who can be condescending. There was still a few hours to nightfall given it was summer and this was time he intended to put to getting a better hang of his power and preparations.


He conjures a leather-bound journal with a glyph he had designed for himself worked into the front. When he thinks of a pen he realises something interesting about his power. Specifically, that he knows exactly how to make it. "Like a stored blueprint..." he thinks of something else, like a deodorant stick, and in his mind's eyes he can see that too broken down into its properties and presented in his awareness exactly as one he had held before. "Is this...For things I've touched?" He imagines a plastic bottle, a canteen, a flask, a toothbrush. Everything he tries to recall he seems to have a template for stored in some ethereal drawer. *As I said before, not every element will be immediately available to you. Your power has a secondary operational mechanism that...For lack of more adequate terms 'scans' things you have been in contact with. Whether wood, metal or otherwise you can only produce elements and materials you have touched. Similarly you will find an innate tactile understanding imbued into you for objects you have handled.* As System explains Kire proceeds to make the pen, a simple ball-point that would have been available at the dollar store back home. "Well it's to my luck then I come from a time and have enough experiences that I am very well armed by such a mechanism." He sits at the desk and opens the journal with the first affair to settle being a list of everything he will need. *Yes, how wonderful for you and your pen. Perhaps next you could make a fidget spinner or a dashing pair of crocs.* Kire's writing is interrupted by a bark of a laugh. "So you know what those are? Taking your peep-show to other worlds huh?"

Shit I need

1. Toiletries and ablutions. Toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, soap, luffa, towels,
"Hey System, don't suppose they have toilet paper in this world?" *Go and find out.*
                                                                                                                       toilet paper, shaving kit(razor, soap, shaving brush, aftershave?)


2. Dressings and kit. Pair socks x5, pants x3, shirt x3, underwear x5, belt, better purse, utility pouches x2, waterskin, backpack....


After cooking up his list he examines the copper coin, minted with the same image on both sides of a crest he supposed represented the royal family. He focuses on the coin and thinks about his power and he feels something of a 'ping', what must have been his power mapping the coin like a sonar pulse, scanning it as the understanding of it now appeared in his psychological repertoire. In his other hand he tries to smelt reality, not messing with the design to replicate a new coin as is and with the smell of burning copper and a light glow like hot metal a new coin is all at once stamped into being on his palm. He compares the two, flipping them over, and he can find no difference between them. "Sweet. Infinite money glitch." *Now you can get fat and lazy like you did in your last life.*


Kire snorted in offense. Ok, that one actually got me. Point to you. Hovering over the bed he starts working on his clothes, starting with the pants. He references cargo pants he had owned in another reality but removes the inner lining and rearranges the pockets, altering clasps and belt loops and customising it fully to suit the new environment. The air stitched and wove on itself to push them into being and Kire suddenly found himself yawning. "Eh...? Must be all that excitement from the rats getting to me. It's felt like a long day for only being-" He habitually looks at his wrist as if to check a watch and remembers he hasn't worn a wrist piece in 15 years. "I'm guessing not more than 6 or 7 hours if I account for my being terrible at telling time." Referencing his journal he continues with making clothes until he has enough neatly folded up to pack the wardrobe with. He gets to making himself a zippered grooming bag with all the essentials and finds himself yawning again, shaking his head vigorously. "Fuck, was it the drink? At this rate I should ask about where to bathe and get it out of the way in case I don't hold up all night."


His eyes had been adjusting with the decline of light just enough that he didn't notice through his fixation on what he was doing. Not until he steps out into the hall does he feel a bit vindicated about what the hour might be as the wall fixtures had been lit. Running downstairs the tavern had slowed back down with only half as many people as before and overall settled in at a low and slow vibe. Halgrim had reappeared behind the counter and Kire made his approach. "You survived the rush, but it must have been quite the battle." he chimes having a guess at what it must have been like back there based on the crowd. Halgrim was leaning on the wall by the kitchen door rather than up on his perch and he was re-hydrating from all the sweat on his brow and neck. "Battles are made easier when you have the right people by your side," he counters just as a female halfling emerges from the kitchen to drape a towel over his neck and put her arms over his shoulders. Her dark hair was streaked with grey and Halgrim put his hand on hers leaning his head back to give her a kiss. "As I said...Best 20 years of my life." he winked at Kire, who pouted and awwed at the display. "So you settled in alright up there?" There was less staff than before but now they were lighting the chandeliers and kindling the fireplace while there was still working light to do it and Kire estimated it would be about 8:30 pm. "Yes, but something I ought to have thought of sooner, where can I go to wash up around here?"


"Mm, a fine question." Halgrim says flossing the towel his wife had brought over the sweat on his neck and patting its ends around his face. "For proper facilities there is a couple bath houses along the east end of town. For close, there is stream that diverges from the river proper that just so happens to run through our backyard. It's not especially private beyond folks rarely being about out there, and it'll be cold, but it's clean if you don't mind the risk o' a fish nipping your bum." Kire snaps his fingers with a slick transition into finger guns. "Sounds splendid, I'll take it. Honestly I don't think I have it in me to risk getting lost taking a long stroll before I hit the bed." Halgrim must be used to the many strange gestures of travellers because he just as smoothly and casually waves his arm to the back doors. "The one on the right, stream's not 8 meters off. Can't miss it."


Kire retrieves his towel, soap and luffa and emerges into the tavern again wearing only that much. The nearest patrons don't seem to notice him, laughing and talking among themselves as he slaps his feet like a duck across the floor to the exit and emerging into the cool night air. He follows the sound of the stream until he finds the moon's reflection scattered across a fluid path. There were some trees about, no true coverage and especially not in the direction of the footbridge where one of the roads from the square crossed this treacherous bathtub he'd chosen but he wasn't one for waiting on embarrassment and drops his towel to dip his toes. The current was pretty weak but the temperature was veritably arctic. Still, the best way to adjust is to go all-in. He chucks himself wholly in the stream with head underwater and baptises his new body in a musky-armpit purifying ritual. When he emerges he takes his time to soak there until his shivering settled down and he was comfortably adjusted. The bottom of the stream was smooth with many tiny eroded stones and meshed pleasantly under his steps back to the bank to retrieve his soap and scrubber. "Whoopsiedoodle, forgot shampoo." He looks around to make sure nobody is looking and cupping one hand over the other blinks a dollop of his preferred brand into the world to run through his wet hair. The night air and the cold running water, the moonlight and everything that had happened today struck such a fantastical chord in him the only thing left to do was ruin the mood with off-key singing. He roughly squawks out a tune while slapping water under his arms and scrubbing lather around his junk. At one point as he was rinsing his hair he noticed a few people stopping on the torchlit bridge nearby, trying to see what was going on in the water through the growing darkiness. "What, haven't you people ever seen a mermaid before?!" He whips his freshly washed hair over his shoulder to face them and the awkwardness proves too much as they hurry off. In time he emerges from the water and makes sure to dry himself perfectly thoroughly as to not track in a single drop on his host's floors. Before entering the back door of the tavern again he looks around conspiratorially, kneeling down to fashion a door-mat with a durable and thick carpet material. Giving his feet a final polish on the mat which read 'Bless this Mess' he makes the return trip in and to his room.


Settled in again there was one last project he wanted to try but as he started to spark it up a bigger, harder yawn than before hit him like a brick and he almost teetered with fatigue. "Damn, guess I've given all I've got for today." He opts to faceplant onto the bed without even trying to dress or get under the covers. He hadn't lit a candle in his room on his return so it was already dark except for whatever moonlight made it between rooftops. "Goodnight Systemmm." *Finally I can have some merciful silence from you.* "I love yoouuu." Silence. "Hey, that's rude, you gotta say it back or I'm going to think you aren't serious about us." More silence. Deciding that was his final victory for the day he passes out into a deep and dreamless sleep.


--


The cold moonlight had become the warm glow of dawn's first rays and Kire woke up instinctively. In his half-aware grogginess he tries to find the time projected on the ceiling from his alarm clock and doesn't find it. He rolls over to try and check the alarm clock itself and doesn't see it. He reaches out for a nightstand that isn't there to grab a phone that isn't there and the room he was in started to dawn on him with a settling sense of direction. I'm still here. Not that he didn't think that would be the case when he went to bed but...He hadn't really thought about actually facing it. Sweeping his feet over the edge of the bed to counterweight himself upright he saunters to the window and despite being so early there was still a decent number of people milling up and down the road. I guess late mornings are a luxury more afforded in the modern and urban worlds. He stretches dramatically with an unnecessarily loud and dreadful sound but realises as he stretches how much better it feels. It sinks in to him that he has his fit body back and what's more, he can apparently sleep without a machine now, an advantage he did not have in the past. I need to take caring for myself seriously this time. No slacking...Without knowing what's out there I need to be ready for anything. He puts on underwear at least before slinking down to the floor and beginning a series of static stretches, revelling in the boosted energy and feeling of power he'd once lost to misuse.


Throwing on pants and a shirt he patters barefoot down to the bar to find a night shifter still on duty, a human woman hugging a steaming cup. "Our first guest of the day, good morning!" She was almost a little too peppy for the hour and as he drops into the same seat as the night before he points at the mug she cradled. "I'll have what some of whatever you're on." She doesn't take offence to the implication and steps just inside the kitchen door to handle something out of sight. As she approaches with a second steaming mug a familiar waft hits his nose. A smell he would know anywhere; the very elixir of life! The cup is set before him and he almost throws his praise to the heavens for the familiar black beverage feeling like he could weep with joy. "Ohhh gods I am so glad you have coffee in this world." He embraces the cup and the woman stalls a bit in her reaching for additives. She decides he was probably foreign and that was a vocabulary error in translation. "Sugar, honey, cream?" she presents the tea tray with all the fixings. "No thanks, you've served it just how I like it." Despite its heat he is too eager to get his first taste and he sips at its very edge which an obnoxious slurping noise. It was strong he could tell even with the small amount he could get without burning himself. They must brew it differently here. "I haven't seen you before but I'm sure you were told the room comes with breakfast. It isn't much but we have porridge and a roll for the included meal, we can cook up something else but it will cost extra." Kire produces the freshly-minted coin he had copied the night before. "Could I add sausage with this?"


--


There was a general store very near to the tavern and he figured he would shop proper instead of making literally everything to get a feel for what the fashion was in this world. He didn't have much of a budget unless he kept making copper coins but he was going to save his energy for now. Having had to wait for them to open the shop keeper, an elderly lady named Hildrun was quite hospitable in showing him all the goods and answering his questions about what an adventurer might need. He decides to blow his entire budget on a good rucksack since after all, what else can he even justify having if he can't carry it? Back in his room he refills his new coin purse with a mere 10 coppers and readies himself to finish what he had tried to start the night before. A ring...Doesn't need a rivet, my method bypasses that. Can't be simple iron, gotta get the steel right. T29? Sure...and then carefully weave the other ring around it like so... Two small rings not an inch in diameter appeared conjoined in the bounded space before him. He tried desperately to remember a visual of the four and one weave and quickly reconsiders for a six and one. The collection of rings became a patch and with growing confidence expanded more quickly into a sheet suspended in a shower of sparks and blue smolder. Kire steps forward and measures himself against it finding it is not actually hot against his skin despite how it looked and he closes his eyes to see his work with his metaphysical hands which sculpted matter from nothing by his divine gift. The links spread over him, draping in an ideal fit over his arms and wrapping his body to stitch up his back. So he stood arms outstretched, wreathed in a crawling cold blue flame with a storm of forge motes swirling around him...


When next he thunders down the stairs Kire is dressed in the black cargo pants he had designed for himself and same set of sleek army boots but rather than the plain black shirt he was wearing a bright hooded tunic of mostly fluorescent orange with a bold blue for the sleeves and side patches on the as well as in in banded strips for an aesthetic that seemed to depict ribs, abs and pectoral outlines. The sleeves were bloused into the heavy leather bracers of before as his pants were into his boots and he bore his new backpack half-full of fresh kit ready for another day and another adventure. I have a lot to learn about this world. Shit, I don't even know what day it is let anything about the politics, wildlife and culture. Thornwick is cute but it doesn't strike me as an academic hub. His fast stride weaves him through the increasingly familiar streets to the guild hall to arrive in short order. He ponders over the quest board a bit and still uncertain he detours to the lounge area in the back to ask a couple of the other adventurers where he might find a library. "Glimmerforge is the nearest city, two days ride northeast and the guild hall there has a library. We have a small selection of books here but as resources go they won't offer a whole lot beyond the basics." Basics are fine, I don't even have that much. He follows their directions to one of the rooms on the right of reception and finds it small and quaint but well lit with a few modestly stocked bookshelves on the walls to either side, two couches and a coffee table in the middle of the room and a smaller table with two chairs by a huge window on the far wall.


He grabs a pile of smaller books on the elementary teachings of the world as it would be presented to the schoolkids of Misterra. He learns of the magical field that envelops their world allowing the power of imagination to steer fate through sorcery, alchemy, enchanting and artifice. He reads a treatise on the Falkner Kingdom, a sum of its history and political standing with even some tidbits about the neighbouring nations of Sarth and Valderon and the blackened desert wastes on the other side of the Ironspike mountains. There is a small book on the Eldergrove although the massive ancient forest is largely an unbreached mystery and what is written sounds like superstition more than testimony. He learns that whoever fluffed this world copied their homework from the D&D books and the economy is largely handled by a Copper, Silver, Gold system with a 10:1 ratio each way and that although Platinum and other specialty coins existed they were so rare as to be seen in only the highest circles of society. On the note of metallurgy he reads of Orichalcum, a hard but brittle ore with natural magic-repelling properties. Mithril exists here as well, a metal of unparalleled strength to weight ratio but highly rare. King of them all is Adamantite which once forged is considered effectively indestructible, however it is so rare and restricted that only a couple mines are known to exist and they as well as the secrets to forging their bounty are jealousy guarded by the Dwarves.


He learns of the different disciplines of magic, and he learns how loudly his stomach can growl when neglected. What? What time is it? The sun was coming in strong through the window and he settles the books to go check the standing grandfather clock in the main guild hall. 13:00 it looks like, I've already been reading for...4 hours? He had always been an intense and voracious reader but even though the tomes had been light and simple the amount of books he went through seemed like a lot. *The deftness with which you slew those children's textbooks is awe-inspiring...truly.* Kire backs up into the study and closes the door for privacy again. He puts on a big fake smile, doing a little jig and sing-songing: "If you're a bastard and you know it claps your hands!" He waves his arms as if coaching someone to clap but does not make contact. "If you're a bastard and you know it clap your hands!" He looks around expectantly at the silent corners of the room. "Aw c'mon System why aren't you clapping? Have some pride in yourself man." Seemed System wasn't willing to give him the satisfaction after their hit and run insult. Time for lunch and then I really should take a quest.


--


Having copied a bestiary from the guild library from his power he had ran a quick round trip for stall food and had returned to the quest board just to realise how...Sleepy he seemed for the time of day. I must be taxing my power again, I should stop that until tomorrow. Level 1 sure doesn't make much. He sees an evergreen job for merchant escort...Ride on a wagon, fight if necessary. Guaranteed minimum of pay, more if there's action. There's a route to Glimmerforge! How perfect I can recharge and have my taxi pay me to get where I wanted to go, should be able to skim this book on local wildlife during the ride. Thornwick county was not a particularly unsafe place with criminal elements; The forest bled many hazards into the path of civilization and there was certainly more than a few brigand encampments but the odds of them hitting on the road were reportedly low. He notes down the job number and gets in line at the reception. There was a male Halfling working one of the counters he had thus far seen empty but he gets waved up to the Elven woman. "Mis, was it?" She checks his new outfit with a quirked eyebrow and soft look of confusion as he greets her. "That's just a nickname, it's actually Miserra. And you're the new troublemaker! What do you need today?" Kire mocks emotional harm at the troublemaker comment. "Well this sensitive troublesolver had hoped to take up a ride on contract thirty-three to Glimmerforge but if I'm too much of a nuisance..." He pouts out his lip at her in his best whipped dog impression.


She doesn't take his bait instead sliding smoothly and professionally into her followup"You registered yesterday right? So you're E class? Even though you finished a two star job this one is a bit different. It's flexible from one to three stars depending on route and whether or not you run into trouble. Some adventurers use this job as a lazy gap-filler but so you know if you do get attacked you are expected to perform fully." Kire stiffens up with a caricature of a British salute. "I assure you ma'am if there is only one real skill I have it's fighting. And comedy, but especially fighting." She holds her hands up in deference. "I was just saying, I know the ideas some adventurers get about this posting and it stays up permanently because there's always traffic. This is only a one way trip though, you'll need to take another contract from the Glimmerforge hall to get a ride back." Kire slinks down onto the counter with all the swagger he can muster, holding up his palm for the job ticket. "Just tell me when and where, I'll see your wagon through."


According to Miserra there were arrivals and departures every 2 hours so he didn't have to wait long at the Northern road entrance into town which he'd arrived at by way of the Northeast lane from the central square. The road had curved broadly around branching off into many others leading into the different neighbourhoods for the river facing east side of the town. "Post 33, Glimmerforge!" A Dwarf called out from near a carriage that had been pulled to the side of the road. Two other people in assorted kit approached at the call and Kire assumed that was his cue too. "Job tickets!" The Dwarf kept things very curt and to the point, waiting to see the vouchers in each of the three adventurer's hands. "Two wagons, mine and theirs." he pointed to another larger cart on hitched on the opposite side of the street with four draft horses to lead it. The one they stood was hitched with two and despite being quite a bit smaller looked considerably sturdier and more fortified. "Only three of you? Two a' ya to that one, one with me. Perch is on the roof." Not waiting to see who was where the Dwarf had already turned for his driver's seat. The two other adventurers were a pair of young men that seemed to only just be leaving their teens who bolted across the road for the other wagon. They had been too preoccupied humouring each other to even look at Kire and people yelled at them as they cut through traffic.


Finding some rungs by the back bumper of the wagon Kire hoists himself up to slump on the roof. "Haven't seen you before, first time?" The Dwarf calls up without looking, remaining in park while the other wagon got unhitched and swung around. "Yeah, same can't be said for you clearly. How often you make this run?" The dwarf jostled his reins and the horses were signalled to move, weaving onto the road behind the other cart where Kire could see the other two contractors conversing animatedly in the back. "It's a two day ride as anyone knows so I'm stuck at only doing it only twice a week. On the road every day though." The Dwarf certainly had the grizzled trucker look but Kire wouldn't know if that's just how all Dwarves looked since this was his first. This time he thinks he did a good job keeping a lid on being weird about it though.


"And how often do you have trouble out there?"
The Dwarf mumbles something as his eyes sweep the horizon, from the hidden road beyond the distant bend around the forest to the wooded foothills of the mountains opposite. "Often enough you should take it serious. I know they say trouble is low on the road but to remind you again this is a two day ride. The trouble tends to come at night when you're encamped...A sitting target. Most bands of thieves aren't well enough off to risk horses in a chase and most predators know it isn't worth the energy."
This made sense, and Kire decided against trying to read at the moment weighing it against the merits of a nap. "We'll need a night watch then. Before I recharge, care to share more about these predators?"