Vol.2 Ch. 20: The Journey

Author's note: Edited and proofread by SnazzyCub. The bonus chapter! Recurring Characters: Peter: The protagonist of this novel. Deathknell

Author's note: Edited and proofread by SnazzyCub. The bonus chapter! Recurring Characters: Peter: The protagonist of this novel. Deathknell

Author's note:

Edited and proofread by SnazzyCub.
The bonus chapter!

Recurring Characters:
Peter: The protagonist of this novel.
Deathknell: A spirit of chaos that is contracted to Peter as his summon. It's very good with shadow and darkness manipulation. Peter can wear it like a cloak using his title effect.

Mariah: Peter's mother. You can find her picture in Art collection.
Tarin: A 13 year old boy rescued by Peter and Mariah near a fountain during their travel to the city of Rosefall. Picture in Art collection.

Samuel: A bandit with long hair, that Peter subdued in the last chapter. He is under the effects of Mental Domination. A skill of Deathknell.
Recap:

The prisoners hesitated, their resolve shaken. They failed to find an ounce of fear in her form as she stood in a bandit den. She knew what’d happen to them all if bandits managed to come out on top, yet she stood unafraid.

Just then, footsteps approached from outside. Everyone stilled.

…End of Author Note...

…

Peter rounded the corner and entered the room, every head turning his way the moment he appeared. The stench hit him all at once. His nose wrinkling as he scanned the dim interior. A single torch on the wall cast flickering shadows across the stone.

The cages were empty now, the freed prisoners had gathered at the far end. Mariah stood before them as they huddled close together, shoulders tense with anticipation.

His gaze lingered on her, and he gave her a small nod. She let out a sigh, clutching her chest as tension left her stiff body, and her frown relaxing as she showed visible signs of relief.

He looked past her, noting that others still stared at him with widened eyes full of unease, like cornered animals unsure if he was another predator.

“The bandits are taken care of,” he said, his eyes returning to his mother. “We’re safe…at least for now.”

“…for now?”

Peter turned his face a little to the right, facing the woman who asked the question. She was on her knees, hugging Tarin to her chest, a concerned look on her face.

“Yes, their boss…the vampire is still out there somewhere,” Peter said, feeling a little thankful that he wasn’t here. He was running precariously low on mana after fighting the bandit leader. If the blood parasite were also present, Peter would have to make some tough choices.

“We’ll be leaving the moment the first rays of sunlight touch the ground,” He added.

“Why not now?” Someone among the crowd asked.

“Why are you planning to go in the middle of the night?” Mariah said, turning around, her eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

Peter nodded, but his brow furrowed slightly as he watched her, finding her reaction too sharp for a simple question. He decided to ask her about it later.

“We only have enough supplies,” he said, turning toward the anxious group. “We’ll need to use the supplies that bandits have.”

“For now, let’s walk outside, and all of you can have something to eat.” The idea of finally being able to put something in their stomachs put any further questions they might have aside temporarily.

A murmur spread through the former prisoners, their eyes growing less hostile, small smiles rising on their faces.

Tarin’s mother stepped forward first, her grip firm around her son’s hand as if afraid to let go. She approached Mariah, tears slipping down her cheeks like tiny pearls, her smile trembling with gratitude. Without a word, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around Mariah, holding her tight. Soft whispers escaped her—breathless thank yous, one after another, for keeping her son safe.

Others followed suit, as if encouraged by her act of bravery and offered words of appreciation to them before walking out of the room, which had been their prison for many weeks. Most of them were still shocked and traumatised, choosing to ignore the carnage littered around their path while walking inside the narrow tunnels toward the cavern entrance.

As they stumbled into the open air, several dropped to their knees on the rocky ground, legs buckling beneath them. The rush of freedom, so sudden and overwhelming, left them trembling. Some hugged each other. Others stared at the sky and laughed uncontrollably. A few just sobbed quietly to themselves, offering prayers to their chosen god.

Peter and Mariah stood off to the side, saying nothing. They felt pity for these people. To be kept inside a cage, stripped of their freedom, often forced to endure atrocities by the bandits, with no hope of freedom. Every moment must have felt more suffocating.

“Let’s get them something to eat,” Peter said, his voice soft.

Mariah nodded and followed him as they looked for rations stored inside the hideout.

…

Leaves rustled in the morning breeze, allowing filtered sunlight to reach the ground. Creatures that had fled due to the commotion in the night were slowly returning to the canopy near the cavern maw.

Everyone had been working for hours, collecting supplies in the hideout and putting them in the stolen carriages that bandits kept near their camp. The caravan had increased in size. Instead of just three, there were now more than a dozen wagons.

“No, you can’t take it with you,” Mariah said, sounding fed up. “That’s not essential.”

“Do you know how much it’s worth?” The man said, practically hugging a burlap sack. “They’re amberbeans, woman!” The merchant barked, face red with outrage. “Three sacks, bought from a Merman—roasted, sealed, finest grade! Do you know what nobles pay for just a pinch of this in the cities?”

“Only the elderly, children and the injured. The rest will have to walk,” Peter said, his voice firm. He draped the cloth over the wagon before walking to the front.

“The horses cannot handle any more weight.” He said, standing beside his mother, his eyes fixed on the man who was arguing with her.

“Am I clear?” he asked, his face neutral.

“You…don’t understand. I spend my entire fortune on this,” The merchant frowned. “I can’t leave it behind.”

“Then feel free to carry all three of them on your back,” Peter said, without missing a beat.

Peter gestured toward the overloaded wagons. “We’ve got wounded and elderly packed in like grain sacks, children sleeping under blankets of rope and flour sacks, and every spare inch is taken by food or clean water. Your bean isn’t worth a broken axle or a day’s delay.”

“But I paid fifty gold for it in the last city!”

“Then next time, don’t spend everything in just one purchase.” Peter shook his head. “Also, next time, if she tells you something, listen.” He added, his voice laced with warning. “We aren’t your hired guards.”

He shifted his posture, his gaze drifting to everyone around them who had been silently listening to them. “You should all thank the moons that she took pity on your plight. I wouldn’t have cared if you continued to rot in there.”

“Let’s get going now.”

…

The days that followed were long and punishing.

Twelve carriages rumbled across uneven roads, creaking beneath the strain of rescued lives and hastily loaded supplies. The forest thinned and thickened in turn, offering one brief respite from the summer sun or the chill of the sudden rain. Dust clung to every surface—faces, clothes, hair—until they found a large source of water every once in a while. Horses trudged on, heads low and manes matted, while Peter rotated them carefully to keep any from collapsing mid-path.

They passed through a variety of flora, across narrow bridges spanning roaring streams, and once, through a fog-drenched marsh where every step threatened to swallow a wheel whole. There were hills needed to climb and valleys that were needed to traverse Food had to be rationed, water boiled or filtered with a cloth, and sleep came only in fits, often interrupted by an attack from the wildlife.

Stags as large as oak trees, fire-breathing rodents the size of ponies, Giant venomous spiders capable of turning transparent. The forest was intent on swallowing them, but Peter stopped them at every turn. With each day that passed, People grew more wary of him. They noticed. He didn’t sleep, never ran out of mana, never needed to use healing potions.

Rescued travellers were caught off guard by the behaviour of the captured bandits. No one ran. No one fought. When told to sit, bandits sat, their heads lowered. During the travel, they walked by themselves, wrists slack in their bindings, as if whatever fire they'd once had had already burned out.

This, in turn, made them respect Mariah, the only person whose opinion mattered to Peter. Rumour spread, some claiming that she’s a foreign noble travelling incognito, and he was her guard. Since none dared to confirm it, the rumour remained a rumour.

Time proved to be an excellent healer. Those weakened by imprisonment slowly regained their health, quickly becoming able-bodied. They tried to help, gathering firewood, calming horses, and lifting the wounded in and out of wagons. Even the merchant complained less after the first week, quietly helping along.

The journey was long and exhausting, and yet, they endured.

Now, nearly three and a half weeks since the escape, the trees began to thin, replaced by rolling hills dotted with wildflowers and a meadow that seemed to stretch endlessly on both sides. A distant wind carried the faintest smell of roses. The path they travelled on all this time had grown broader, packed firm by years of travelling wheels.

Peter stood at the edge of a ridge as the sun dipped low, casting golden light over the path ahead. Beyond it, faint on the horizon, the outer spires of Rosefall shimmered in distance, casting long shadows against the sky.

They were finally within a day’s reach. It was time to depart from this caravan.

…

“Is it okay to leave like this?” Mariah asked, looking hesitantly at the sleeping form around the campsite.

“Yes, they’ll be fine. We’re very close to the city.” Peter grabbed the pouch full of coins and walked toward the horse. “We haven’t encountered any predator for days, likely due to repeated culling.”

He swung into the saddle and gave a gentle nudge, guiding his horse forward until it stood beside Mariah’s.

“We’ve got to get inside the city before them, “he said, locking eyes with her. “We can’t be anywhere near them when they’re questioned by the guards.”

“Alright.” Mariah nodded once, then turned to glance back at the camp one last time. The faint crackle of dying embers and the soft snoring of the rescued travellers filled the silence between them. She tightened the strap on her satchel and followed Peter’s lead, guiding her mare onto the trail.

The road ahead was dark, bathed in silver by the moons overhead. Crickets chirped in waves along the roadside brush, and every so often, the quiet clop of hooves was swallowed by the gentle wind rushing through the grass. They rode in silence for some time, the city a phantom in the distance.

Eventually, Mariah broke the silence. “Do you think they’ll talk?”

“They will,” Peter said, his voice even. “…But I’ve made sure that they don’t remember enough to endanger us. Soon, they’ll wake up, having forgotten the finer details of their rescuers, only remembering that they’re travelling to the wilds beyond the kingdom, and left them one night to the closest city.”

“Do you think the guards will buy that?”

“Even if they don’t…they can’t do anything. The memories were erased, not hidden.” Peter paused, then added, “And the fact remains…they’re rescued commoners. After a bit of questioning, they should be freed.”

Mariah shifted uneasily in her saddle, her fingers brushing the hilt of the short blade she kept strapped to her thigh. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Peter replied. “You just have to stay ahead of it.”

They pressed on.

By dawn, the vast white walls of Rosefall became visible, which grew more imposing the closer they moved. The land around the road had flattened, dotted with stone walls, cultivated fields, and the occasional farmhouse.

As the sky blushed with morning light, the river that curled along the city’s southern gate shimmered. Peter slowed his horse at the end of a long line of travellers, all awaiting entrance into the city of roses.

Mariah exhaled. “We should make for the west gate. It opens earlier, and there are fewer questions.”

Peter gave a faint nod, eyes still locked on the looming city. “Then let’s not waste time.” It was the first time he was visiting a settlement outside of his village. He couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t waste the time,” said the man standing in front of them.

...End of Chapter...
Next Chapter should be on Monday.