The next morning, they rose early and began the day with their ritual coffee. Sylmara and Draveth had also grown to enjoy it. Once the mugs were empty, they set out from the village.

  They took the road north. Adrian was glad to finally have a proper path, no more stumbling over roots or bushes. He was starting to hate the forest.

  The road stretched ahead in uneven ribbons of dirt and stone, winding between grassy fields that rolled gently toward the horizon. Occasional farmhouses and outbuildings dotted the landscape, smoke curling lazily from their chimneys.

  The road was not in great condition, but it was still much better than the alternative. Ashfall was a little more than a day’s journey ahead. There was a village between Ashfall and Ashrine, but they decided to skip it since it would have taken them three hours off their path.

  The journey passed without incident. They met no caravan on the road, which was hardly surprising. Beyond Ashrine stretched the forest, a place few dared to visit. By evening, they left the path behind and set up camp a short distance away, the quiet of the trees settling around them.

  By the next day, they were traveling down the road when a group of figures appeared ahead. Road bandits, judging by their stance and weapons.

  The stench of sweat and piss made Adrian wrinkle his nose.

  "Hello, travellers," the man said. He was burly, with unkempt hair and a small beard. A short axe hung at his hip, and he smelled… bad. At least, that was Adrian’s impression.

  “Oh wow,” Alex said, smirking. “We’re really doing the whole _‘hand over your coin, travelers’_ routine? Couldn’t get more cliché than this.” He looked the man up and down. “You stink, bastard,” he added, letting slip the creepy smile he had back in the Crypts.

  Sylmara looked uncomfortable, and Draveth held his spear tight, knuckles white around the shaft.

  Adrian almost laughed at Alex’s antics but held it in. They were probably expecting him to rile the bandit up, not try to deescalate the situation—which Alex was already doing. Five more men stood behind the first bandit, but Adrian kept his focus on staying calm.

  "You little shit," the bandit yelled, reaching for the axe at his hip. But before he could even draw it, _thwip-thwip-thwip_. The muffled bursts cracked through the air.

  Three bullets hit the ground at his feet, sending up small clouds of dust.

  His hand froze just short of his hip. His expression shifted as his gaze fell on Alex’s hands. "Artifact," he whispered slowly, eyes widening in fear.

  "What were you saying?" Alex mocked.

  Before the bandit could even speak, Adrian said, "Drop everything you have on the ground."

  All of them froze, not daring to move a muscle.

  "NOW!" Alex shouted, smirking.

  "S-sorry," the bandits stammered, dropping their weapons, pouches, and whatever else they had as fast as they could. "Please," they pleaded.

  Metal clanged against the ground.

  Sylmara looked at them, a smile playing on her lips, and stepped forward. "He said everything."

  They glanced at her, then at Adrian and Alex, and back again. Draveth chuckled quietly from behind.

  The bandits froze, trying to process her words. Adrian broke the silence. "You heard the lady. Strip."

  Panic set in, and they began stripping as fast as they could. One of them even stumbled and fell. Fear of the artifacts made everything easy, Adrian thought.

  Soon they were all naked, two of them covering themselves with their hands.

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  "My lady, what should we do with them?" Adrian asked, his expression cheerful.

  Sylmara shrugged. "Tie them up? Leave them for the patrol."

  "No, please," they pleaded, some dropping to their knees.

  "Your wish is my command," Alex said with a mock bow. He grabbed the rope from his backpack and tossed it to the first bandit. The man looked at him, then at the rope.

  He began tying them up, but left it loose.

  Draveth stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder with the butt of his spear.

  A few minutes later, they were all tied up tight. Draveth secured the last one.

  "Cliché?" Sylmara asked, glancing at Adrian with a raised eyebrow.

  He just shrugged.

  Alex crouched next to the pile of items the bandits had dropped. "Loot!"

  Adrian chuckled. "What do we have?"

  They spent a few minutes going through it. There wasn’t much.

  "Thirty-four bronze coins, a few rusty weapons. The axe isn’t too bad," Adrian said.

  "You want anything?" Alex asked, glancing at Sylmara and Draveth.

  Draveth picked up the axe and flipped it a few times in his hands. "Not bad."

  Draveth kept the axe. The coins went into Adrian’s pouch, which he had taken from the bandits and secured to the belt at his hip.

  Adrian gathered the rest in one place, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and set the clothes on fire.

  The smell of smoke and scorched cloth filled the air. The bandits just stared at him, their eyes widened, mouths hanging open in disbelief.”

  Adrian stared at them, feeling not a bit of guilt. They could freeze for all he cared. He hated this type the most, those who took from people who had nothing. In the slums, he had seen the aftermath countless times: people left to starve, to freeze, after being robbed. Too many had died that way.

  His expression darkened for a moment, but it soon returned to normal.

  "Please, don’t leave us here, we’ll freeze," they kept pleading.

  "Pray we find a patrol soon," Alex said, smirking.

  Draveth pulled a jug of water from his pack and left it by the bandits. The others didn’t comment; they didn’t care about the bandits.

  They took a break, eating a little farther away from the tied-up men—their appetites would have vanished if they stayed close. Once they were done, they moved on, not even glancing back.

  The road gradually improved as they neared Ashfall. At one point, the dirt path gave way to gravel, small stones crunching under their boots with every step—a clear sign they were getting closer.

  Soon, they arrived at a crossroads. Multiple paths branched off in different directions, but only one led back the way they had come. This was the place they hoped to find a caravan to join, a necessary step to gain safe entry into the city.

  Close by, there was an inn, a two-story building made mostly of wood, with stone reinforcing the lower walls. Smoke curled lazily from a crooked chimney, carrying the scent of burning firewood and fresh bread. A small garden bloomed in front, wildflowers swaying in the breeze alongside a few young fruit trees.

  The wooden sign creaked on its hinge with the wind, depicting a simple painted mug. A couple of benches sat under the trees, and a stack of firewood leaned against the side of the building. The inn seemed like a haven on the road, a small patch of comfort amidst the dusty roads and endless fields.

  "Let me guess—Ash Inn!" Alex joked.

  Sylmara chuckled, shaking her head. "No."

  "Ashbeer?" he tried again, raising an eyebrow.

  "Still no."

  "Last guess! Crossroads Ash Inn?"

  "Just Crossroads Inn," Sylmara said, smirking slightly.

  "Lame," Alex muttered, shaking his head.

  They stepped inside the inn, and warmth immediately enveloped them. The room was cozy, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and a stone hearth crackling with fire at one end. A few round tables were scattered across the floor, each surrounded by chairs that had seen years of use. The scent of roasting meat and fresh bread mingled with the tang of smoke from the fireplace.

  A bartender behind the counter wiped a mug with a cloth, nodding politely at the newcomers. A couple of travelers laughed quietly in one corner, their voices mingling with the soft clink of cutlery and mugs. Shelves along the walls held jars of herbs, bottles of ale, and various trinkets, giving a welcoming feel.

  "Did you hear? The Ashfall patrol caught three of those bandits near the crossroads last week," one traveler said, shaking his head.

  "Figures," his companion muttered. "They’re getting bolder. I saw a merchant wagon almost get ambushed yesterday."

  From another table, a woman whispered nervously. "…Ghast…"

  "…say it’s growing… villages scared…"

  "…they took Old Marrick… burned everything"

  Adrian’s ears perked up at the last fragments, exchanging a glance with Alex, who raised an eyebrow.

  Alex immediately went to a table near the fire and flopped down in a chair, kicking off his boots. "Finally!" He said with exaggerated relief, letting out a long sigh.

  The bartender approached. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice friendly.

  "Food?" Adrian asked.

  "We’ve got meat stew and fresh bread," the bartender replied.

  "Perfect. Bring four," Adrian said.

  "Drinks?"

  Adrian glanced at Draveth, who smiled. "I’ll have a mug of Dornel Ale," he said.

  "Make that four, then," Adrian added.

  When they were done, Sylmara waved the bartender over.

  "When is the next caravan arriving?" she asked.

  "It should be in two days, if there aren’t any problems," he replied.

  "Perfect. Add two rooms to the bill," she said.

  "Glad to help," he smiled politely, picking up the coin left on the table.

  Just then, the door slammed open, rattling the wooden frame and sending a draft through the room.

  "Another cliché?" Alex muttered, smirking, eyes darting toward the newcomer.

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