Enmon woke but didn’t open his eyes. He stayed still and listened, keeping his breathing steady. It was a habit he had picked up over the terms. It was easiest to steal from a sleeping man and waking up at the wrong time was likely to get you a boot to the face. If you could surprise a thief, however… then you might just end up wearing those boots instead.

Luckily, there were no sounds of someone rifling through his things. Then he remembered he didn’t have things anymore. He sighed and opened his eyes. It was morning. Sitting up, he looked around. The boy was there, still asleep. Y’rid was gone though.

In contrast to the bright morning, a dark atmosphere hung over the camp. He could feel it in the people around him, see it in their movements and hear it in their indistinct, soft voices. It infected him as well, bringing up thoughts of the few people he cared for that he wouldn’t see again. He quickly pulled those thoughts out before they could grow roots.

Focusing on the past or future had no meaning. It was a luxury, and one he could never afford. Only the present mattered.

The emptiness of the hunger in his gut made itself known. It was still fine for now though, as Y’rid had shared his meal with them last night. His mood lifted a bit. At least he wasn’t alone in the situation. Surviving was always easier when you were more. Provided everyone contributed. That was always the problem. He looked over at the sleeping boy before sighing again.

He stood up. He would do his part at least. He moved through the waking and sleeping people of the camp, scanning over them and the things they brought with them. Most of what they had were stuffed into bags and backpacks. Going through them was impossible, given the number of eyes around the place. What he could see was about what he expected. Other than some loose clothes, people had tended to grab whatever their panicked minds had thought of at the time. Food was not among those things. But apparently, candlesticks, pots, tools and farming implements were. In one case, he even saw a broom.

Enmon shook his head and pulled at the cuffs of his new jacket, courtesy of a slumbering, portly man and a timely stumble. It was a bit too large for him, but it was made of sturdy leather. Better than anything he had had before. Honestly, if he wore something like this while living on the streets in the city, he would have invited trouble. Both from the guards and other street rats.

Unfortunately, he found no food. Those who had weren’t willing to share, even when he offered to pay. The closest he had gotten was a mercenary shouting out that his group had soup to sell, at nine silver a bowl.

Enmon scowled. Nine fucking silver. Had Y’rid paid that much? He clutched at the pouch he had hidden on the inside of his pants. In it, he had seven silver and twelve copper. He had gained it from a few of the dead during the horde’s attack. It was more than he had ever had in his life. And now he couldn’t even buy a bowl of soup with it.

Even more irritatingly, there were actually people buying the stuff. He shook his head. Eventually, he made his way back to where they had slept. Y’rid was already there with the boy who had also woken up.

“You’re back,” Enmon said, walking up to them.

“Yeah,” Y’rid replied and turned to him. His eyes landed on the jacket, and he gave Enmon a questioning look. He returned the look.

“I got some news,” Y’rid continued. “Not the good kind.”

“When is it ever?”

Y’rid smiled halfheartedly. “We’re going to enter beast territory in a few days.”

Enmon looked at him in confusion. “Aren’t we already in it?”

“Apparently not.”

“How do you know?”

“Spoke to one of the beastblighted hunters…”

Enmon’s mood worsened as Y’rid continued, becoming grimmer with his words. He looked at Y’rid after his friend had finished his tale. “Halfway? So that’s what, five days?”

Y’rid nodded. “If Calin was right about the distance.”

“Fuck,” Enmon cursed, and he heard Y’rid grunt in agreement.

So they had a few days until then. Unless the hunter was lying, but he didn’t have a reason to do so. At least that explained why there were no attacks yesterday. After everything he had heard of the forest, Enmon had expected at least a few. Still, five days was five days.

“Nothing we can do about it now,” he said. “Honestly, I’m more concerned about the lack of food. If we don’t find a way to keep ourselves fed, we won’t make it five days. I checked when I woke up, but if anyone has, then they are keeping it to themselves. There is, of course, those who hunted and cooked what they caught, but they are taking care of themselves first and keep a close eye on anything they catch. If they are selling, it is at ridiculous prices. I checked the merchant caravans as well, closest thing we got is one trading in spices.”

Y’rid grimaced. “Maybe we can get some people together. Search the forest floor for anything as we travel?”

“Go off the road?” Enmon scratched his chin in thought. “I guess if we don’t have beasts to worry about for the next few days, it might work. We’ll have to find someone who knows what’s edible. Best we keep it small; otherwise, that’s just more mouths to feed. We already have…” – He gestured towards the boy who was sitting near them. – “If you’re still set on that.”

“I am,” Y'rid said immediately. “He’s staying with us.”

Enmon looked at Y’rid, but his friend’s expression made it clear he wasn’t going to budge on this. He didn’t know why Y’rid seemed to think it was his responsibility to take care of the runt. He sighed and nodded.

“More people could be good,” Y’rid said. “We could cover more ground, and the extra eyes will help us find more. And, if the beasts at the city were any indication of what we’ll be seeing in a few days, then the more people we are working together, the better.”

“If they pull their own weight. We can’t afford to carry others.”

“...Very well. Any idea on who would know what to eat and what not?”

Enmon looked at him, remembering Y’rid’s condition. “Besri would be the best, she used to buy food from the scavengers that lived in the slums. Taught a lot of them what to look for. You remember her?” – Y’rid shook his head. – “Well, no matter. I haven’t seen her, so I doubt she made it. I’ll keep an eye out. Our other option would be the scavengers themselves.”

He looked out over the camp. “I saw a few faces when I walked through that I recognise from the slums. Perhaps we could find one among them. Won’t be able to trust them, though. The best option might be to pay them. Have them show us what to look for and prove it is edible.”

“Right, we should sort that out then. Before we start walking,” Y’rid said and looked down. Enmon followed his eyes to the sword lying on the ground next to him. “But first I’ll need something to cover up the sword with.”

“Why?”

Y’rid sighed and told him of an encounter he had with one of the Blackguard.

“I don’t know if that prick is going to let that go,” Enmon said with a grimace. “Sounds like the hunter scared him off. Fuckers like that… they’re like nobles, their egos are as big as they are fragile. There’s a lot of people here though. Stay away from them and they might not see you. Also probably a good idea to get rid of the sword, there’s an arms merchant here that I saw earlier. He seems to be quite popular, given our current situation. You might get a good price.”

Y’rid shook his head. “I’m keeping it.”

“Yri…,” he began. “You saw the beasts. You probably don’t want to get give up the sword. Night, if I were in your position, I wouldn’t either. But if those armoured fucks are going to target you because of it…”

“If I come across a beast again, I want this with me. Also, I asked the hunter if he could show me the basics. He agreed… I think.”

What?

He stared at Y’rid. “You asked one of the beastblighted to teach you? And this is the same one who attacked you yesterday?”

Y’rid scratched the back of his head, at least looking a little embarrassed about it. “It was a spur of the moment decision. Perhaps not the best, in retrospect, but I stand by it.”

Enmon was quiet for a few moments. Ever since the horde, Y’rid had seemed different. No, it was before that. After the whole thing with the mage. It wasn’t just the memory loss either, he spoke differently as well. He also seemed more driven, more confidant. He snorted.

“You sure you’re still Y’rid?” He asked with a smile.

Y’rid didn’t laugh. He averted his eyes to look out at the forest.

“Things have changed,” he said after a while. “We need to change with it.”

Enmon bit back another sigh. Things have indeed changed. And they won’t stop now. “I guess we do.”

“You know we won’t be able to continue like we did in Riversedge,” Y’rid continued.

“I know.”

If what the hunter had told Y’rid was true, then things weren’t going to get better in Lok. The only reason they could survive this long was that they knew Riversedge. Knew which alleys led where, which merchants not to touch, which corners weren’t patrolled by guards. They didn’t know shit about Lok.

“Where did you say that arms merchant was at?” Y’rid asked him.

“He’s on the other side of camp, away from the river, why? I thought you weren’t going to sell the sword.”

“I’m not, but I want to see if I can get a scabbard or sheath and cover it up a bit.”

Enmon nodded and pulled off his new jacket. “Take this to wrap it up in. The caravan’s not that far away from the nobles’ carriages. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can find someone to help us out with the scavenging.”

“Thanks.”

Enmon watched as Y’rid and the boy walked away before he looked around at the camp, searching for someone that might fit their needs.

---

Gase inspected the scabbard. It was wrapped in a strange brown-green leather with an integral swordbelt. It was made for a longsword the merchant had and was a bit too large for the bastard sword. When he held the bastard sword next to the scabbard, Gase could see the tip didn’t quite reach the end. The sword also had a slight rattle in the scabbard.

He looked at Hadi next to him. “What do you think?”

The boy only looked back without saying a word.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a sigh before turning to the merchant. “This is the only one you got?”

The man was standing in front of his caravan. A part of the side could swing open to reveal mostly empty weapon racks. Judging by the large smile and glinting eyes on the merchant’s face, Gase could only guess that the fear had done wonders for his business.

Behind the merchant was a brutish mercenary with a wicked axe looped in his belt. The man somehow managed to look bored and menacing at the same time. Another two mercenaries sat in the shade of the caravan throwing dice, occasionally sending a glare to the people looking over the remaining goods of the merchant.

“Not very popular, longswords,” The merchant said. “Honestly that’s the only reason I’m considering to let you buy the scabbard alone. Most people buying swords use them as sidearms. A short bronze blade works well for that. It’s sharp and cheaper than steel. But a good longsword? They’re always made from steel due to their length. And I only sell quality weapons. Or scabbards for that matter.”

“Ah yes, you have a good eye,” The merchant said, turning to answer a question from another customer. “One of my last two spears. A cast bronze head from Yellowridge and shaft of hard bluntwood, felled right here in the Yode. You definitely won’t regret the decision, but the beast that tries its luck most surely will, isn’t that right Nerik?”

“Hard, straight and ready for action,” the brutish looking mercenary said in a deadpan voice.

The merchant spared him a disapproving glance. “…yes, well. Only a single gold piece, standard trade size, and it’s yours.”

Gase looked at the man holding the six-foot spear. He didn’t have armour or anything of the like, wearing the simple leather clothes of a commoner. After some attempted haggling which the merchant flat out refused, the man ended up handing over a gold piece with a pained expression which the merchant happily ignored. He bit and weighed the gold before confirming the deal.

“How much did you say the scabbard was?” Gase asked after the man finished.

“Two gold pieces.”

“Two? You sold a spear to that man for one.”

“A simple bronze spear, if of quality make. And look at this,” the man said, pointing out the bronze reinforcement on the rim and point of the scabbard. “There’s enough metal in here to make a knife. And this leather, that’s ald hide. Made to last. As I said, longswords are speciality items. You want it, you pay the price.”

Gase shook his head. If that was how much the man charged for the scabbard, how much did he charge for the sword? He was sure these prices were inflated to reflect the demand.

And still, most of his stock is already gone.

“I’ll take it,” He said, though he really didn’t want to.

“Excellent!”

Gase took out his coin pouch. Having spent the silver he had, he only had a few coppers and the two small, thin gold coins given to him by the innkeeper back in Riversedge. That and the two large gold coins from the mage, of course.

He took out the two small gold pieces and handed them to the merchant. The man eyed the coins dubiously before biting into them and examining the marks. “Hard. That’s not good.”

He placed one of the coins on the small scale he had standing on a small counter in the caravan. The scale used a simple balancing rod to measure the weight difference between two things. On the one side sat the gold piece and on the other, he placed coin made of dull metal.

The dull coin was clearly heavier as the gold side of the scale immediately lifted while the other sunk. The merchant shook his head and added the other gold coin, evening out the scale.

“No good,” he said, turning to Gase. “These coins of yours, pardon my language, but they are wretched. Two of them barely makes one gold by my measure. You’ll need four of them for the scabbard. And that’s me being generous.”

“How about this,” Gase said, taking the coins back before handing over one of the mage’s pieces.

The merchant suddenly smiled. “A Therien mark.”

He pressed into the edge of the coin with his nail leaving a small indent. The man gave a whistle of appreciation. “Look at that, Nerik!”

The mercenary leaned over to get a look. “Soft as a eunuch’s member.”

The merchant clicked his tongue. “Must you always be so crass?”

“Just telling it how it is.”

The merchant took the coin to his scale. “Don’t see any signs of shaving, but we’ll check just to be sure.”

The side with the dull metal coin shot up as he placed the gold onto the other. After adding two more, the scale shifted back to favour the now three dull coins. The merchants glanced at some small markings on the balancing rod.

“Perfect. Given the purity, that’s three gold trade pieces flat. Two for the scabbard leaves you with one.”

The man was just pulling out a coin from his purse when Gase thought of something.

“You said you had another of those spears? I’ll take that one as well. And can you change one of these other gold pieces to silver for me?”

The merchant’s smile widened. “For a good customer like you, of course! An even three pieces for the spear and scabbard, covered by the mark. As for the silver. Like I said they're half a trade piece… but I’ll be generous and give you sixteen silver, an extra for the patronage.”

Gase nodded and took the coins before strapping on the swordbelt and scabbard. “You don’t have something to cover up the hilt of this sword by any chance?”

The merchant frowned. “Cover it up? I suppose I can give you an oilcloth to wrap around it?”

The merchant handed Gase the spear and a piece of cloth that he tore into two and wrapped around the pommel and guard.

“Be sure to visit again if you need anything arms-related,” The merchant said as he and Hadi were leaving. “But hurry, my stock isn’t going to last forever.”

Making his way back, Gase felt worried. He was already down by more than half of his coin. One of the mage’s pieces, a thin gold coin from the innkeeper, sixteen silvers and a handful of coppers. How long would that last him? Now that he had a bit of a better understanding of the currency, he realised how much the innkeeper had cheated him for his first night’s stay in the city…

The man was probably dead now. The thought quickly sobered him up, and he looked down at the sword at his side. He had managed to stop the rattling by wrapping a piece of the cloth around the base of the blade as well. The sword now looked rather rugged along with the green-brown scabbard. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot better than carrying around an unsheathed blade.

The spear he would give to Enmon. If things did get worse, and he was certain they would, having someone to watch his back would be invaluable. He had already decided to help Enmon if he could, back when he had first met the man. That might have been Y’rid’s memories influencing him, but the man had gone with him to the wall when he could have stayed at the inn. That said a lot.

A figure sped across the edge of his vision. Gase looked just as a shout rang across the camp.

“Stop him!”

The ragged-looking man was clutching a bag to his chest as another persued him, shouting at the top of his lungs. It only took a moment for someone to grab onto the running man, sending them both sprawling into the dirt. The bag flew out of man’s hands and landed on the ground, the loaf of bread it contained spilling out.

The persuing man caught up as the would-be thief was pushing himself up. Using his momentum, the pursuer kicked the man in the face at full speed. Blood burst from his nose as an audible crack was heard, and the thief flipped onto his side. He looked young, no older than seventeen terms.

It’s already starting.

Gase moved over as the pursuer kept kicking the man. He grabbed the man by the arm and yanked him back.

“What!” The man shouted and spun on him.

Gase released his hold and held up the hand. “You got him, you got him.”

The man’s wild eyes darted to the spear in his hand while breathing heavily. In a final gesture, he spat towards the bleeding youth huddled on the ground and picked up the bread and bag, delivering a few insults as he did so.

Gase watched him leave with mixed feelings. As did many others. The young thief was struggling to get up, holding his side with one hand.

Moving over, Gase held out a hand. “You alright?”

The young man glanced up at him with a fearful expression. The bridge of his nose was split open and bent to the side. Blood poured out of his nostrils and over his mouth. To his credit, the youth gritted his teeth and took the hand offered to him.

Gase pulled him up. The man reached up to touch his face and pulled back with a pained cry. Gase winced. That was going to hurt when the shock wore off.

“Th-thanks, “he said, spitting out some blood.

“Sure,” Gase said watched the man hobble off. He looked around, a few other people were watching, and one of the cityguard had just arrived but left again after seeing it was over. They couldn’t be everywhere after all. Were things like this even their problem anymore?

He turned and continued making his way back, finding Hadi still at his side. They found Enmon back where they had slept, speaking with a young woman. She looked older than him but not by much. Her clothes were worn and faded. She eyed Enmon with distrust before turning the same look towards Gase, her eyes pausing for a moment on Hadi.

“You’re back,” Enmon said. “And it seems you got what you were looking for. I found our scavenger. This is Aesmin. I told her we’d pay her for information.”

The woman glared at Enmon when he called her a scavenger but didn’t correct him.

“He tells me you’re planning on getting food from the forest?” She asked, looking at them like they were mentally addled. “You do know what’s in the forest, right? Or did you just think we were all out on a stroll.”

“You said yourself, that you collected food from the forest,” Enmon pointed out.

“Near the city. Around the edge, next to the farming lands. Not out in the fucking middle of it.”

“There shouldn’t be any beasts around for a while longer,” Gase said. Enmon gave him a look.

“And you would know this why?”

“One of the hunters told me.”

“A hunter?” She scoffed.

“One of the beastblighted.”

“And you trust him?”

“Got any better ideas?”

She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Ten silver, upfront. You bring me what you find, and I’ll tell you if you can eat it.”

Enmon laughed. “Ten silver? You’re must be mad. We’ll give you five copper.”

Aesmin gave him a flat look. “You need what I know if you don’t want to die of poison.”

“Yes. Luckily, you are not the only one who knows these things. Far from it,” Enmon said and looked to Gase. “Let’s find someone else.”

“Seven silver,” She said quickly.

“One.”

“We’ll give you four,” Gase said. “Half now, half tonight when we stop. And you show us where to find what. We can’t just bring you everything we find.”

He could see her hesitate.

“You can also get a share of what we collect,” He added.

“And you can test your share immediately,” Enmon interjected. “To prove you are not speaking through your arse.”

Gase suppressed a groan.

“Fine,” Aesmin said, “but we stay near the road.”

Gase nodded. Best not to rely entirely on the hunter’s word. He pulled out two of the silver he had just gained and handed it over to the woman. Then he gave Enmon’s jacket back to him and handed him the spear.

Enmon took it and looked at him in surprise.

“Keep it. Just in case.”

Enmon hesitated only a moment before giving him a nod. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He said and clapped the man on the shoulder.

A shout went up from deeper into the camp. Gase looked over to see a couple of guards walking through the crowd, shouting and pointing at the road. It looked like they were moving again. He sighed and readied himself for another long walk.