The first three days of Vincent's journey had been uneventful. The road stretched endlessly before them, winding through rolling hills and dense forests. The rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels against the dirt road, accompanied by the occasional chirping of birds, had become a monotonous soundtrack to their travels.
Albert, the vice leader of security, rode beside the carriage on horseback, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. His men rode in a loose formation around the carriage, relaxed but ever watchful.
"It's been too peaceful," Albert muttered as he pulled his horse closer to Vincent's carriage window. "Almost unnervingly so."
Vincent, who had been reading a document, glanced up. "Expecting trouble already?"
"Not expecting. Just wary," Albert replied. "We've passed by multiple villages, and yet we've barely seen a soul on the road. It's unusual."
Vincent nodded, setting the paper aside. The absence of travelers, merchants, or even wandering peddlers was strange. But he did not let the thought linger for long.
That was until the fourth day came.
As they neared the outskirts of an abandoned village, the first signs of trouble appeared. A group of beggars, clothed in tattered rags, blocked the road ahead. There were at least twenty of them men, women, and even children standing in the middle of the dirt path. Their expressions were a mix of desperation and exhaustion.
Albert immediately raised his hand, signaling the guards to halt. The soldiers tensed, their hands drifting to their weapons, but Vincent held up a hand. "Hold your positions."
One of the beggars, an older man with hollowed cheeks, stepped forward and dropped to his knees. "Please, m'lord! We mean no harm!" His voice cracked with emotion. "We only ask for food… water… anything you can spare!"
Vincent's eyes swept over the group. They were malnourished, some barely standing. The children clung to their mothers, their gaunt faces a painful sight. His gaze briefly flickered to the village behind them burnt houses, collapsed roofs, and empty streets. A place long abandoned.
Albert scowled. "This could be a setup. Bandits often use beggars to lower their target's guard."
One of the soldiers, a younger man named Tobias, looked at Vincent hesitantly. "My lord… if they were truly desperate, should we not help them?"
Vincent's fingers drummed against his knee. The decision was not as simple as it seemed. If they gave supplies, it might encourage others to do the same, but if this was a trap, lowering their guard could prove dangerous. He needed more information.
"What happened to your village?" he asked the kneeling man.
The beggar lowered his head. "Bandits… they came in the night and took everything. Burned our homes, stole our food. Those of us who survived had nowhere else to go."
A murmur went through Vincent's soldiers. Bandits raiding villages was not uncommon, but for this many people to be left with nothing meant that whoever had done this was thorough.
Albert remained cautious. "We don't have the resources to feed every displaced village we come across, my lord."
Vincent knew he was right. Giving away too much would weaken his own men's supplies. He could not save everyone. But… perhaps there was another way.
His eyes lingered on the group before making his decision.
"We cannot take you with us, but I will not leave you with nothing." Vincent motioned for one of his soldiers to bring a small portion of their supplies. A few sacks of grain, a barrel of water, and some dried meat were brought forward and handed to the desperate villagers.
The older man, still kneeling, trembled as he received the provisions. "My lord… this is more than we could have hoped for. We" He choked on his words, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you. Thank you!"
Murmurs of gratitude spread among the group. The mothers clutched their children tighter, whispering prayers of thanks. Some of the men bowed low, pressing their foreheads to the dirt in reverence.
One of the younger men among the villagers, his face still smudged with soot from whatever hardships he had endured, hesitated before stepping forward. "M'lord… if I may… Ravennest is not far from here, is it?"
Vincent turned his gaze to him. "It is."
The young man clenched his fists, determination lighting his sunken eyes. "Then we shall go there. We have nothing left here but ashes and death. But you… you have shown us kindness. If your land is ruled by such a man, then perhaps it is a place where we can rebuild."
More murmurs rippled through the group, and soon, the sentiment became unanimous. They would make their way to Ravennest, carrying with them the hope that the town would give them a second chance at life.
Albert sighed, shaking his head. "You've gained a group of new settlers, my lord."
Vincent merely watched as the villagers slowly gathered their things, their once-hopeless expressions now carrying a flicker of determination. He had given them a chance, nothing more. What they did with it was up to them.
"Let's move on," Vincent ordered, and the convoy pressed forward, leaving behind the ruined village and the hopeful souls who had chosen to follow his shadow toward a new beginning.
The sixth day of travel was marked by a sweltering heat that weighed heavily upon Vincent and his men. The sun hung high in the sky, its relentless rays beating down on the dirt road, turning the path into a trail of dust and sweat. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the occasional rustle of armor were the only sounds accompanying them as they pressed forward.
Albert rode beside Vincent's carriage, wiping his brow. "Six days on the road, my lord. At this rate, we should reach the capital in another eight or nine."
Vincent, seated inside the carriage, remained composed despite the heat. "Assuming there are no more delays."
As if summoned by his words, a sudden commotion up ahead brought the convoy to a halt. A cluster of wagons and carts blocked the road, and a group of disgruntled merchants and travelers stood arguing in frustration. Some were gesturing wildly, while others simply sat on their wagons, resigned to the situation.
Albert narrowed his eyes. "A traffic jam? Here?"
One of the soldiers rode ahead and returned moments later. "My lord, the path is blocked. The merchants claim it's due to a collapsed bridge further ahead."
Vincent exhaled slowly. "A collapsed bridge?''
Albert nodded grimly. "Either it's an unfortunate accident or someone wants to slow down anyone passing through."
Vincent stepped out of the carriage, scanning the gathered crowd. The merchants and travelers immediately noticed his presence, their murmurs growing louder. Some recognized him, their expressions shifting from frustration to curiosity and hope.
A particularly well-dressed merchant stepped forward, bowing. "Lord Vincent of Ravennest, I presume?"
Vincent gave a small nod. "That is correct."
The merchant gestured toward the blocked path. "We have been stranded here since yesterday. The bridge ahead was our only crossing, and it collapsed under the weight of a caravan. The only alternative route is a long detour through the eastern hills, but that road is known for its… dangers."
Albert muttered under his breath. "A perfect way to force travelers into bandit territory."
Vincent's gaze swept over the assembled merchants, noting their anxious expressions. They were hesitant to take the dangerous route, but with each passing day, their supplies dwindled. If they remained stranded, they would eventually run out of food and water. If they took the detour, they risked ambush.
One of the younger merchants clenched his fists. "My lord, if we had the manpower, we could attempt to rebuild the bridge ourselves. But with our limited numbers and lack of proper tools, it would take weeks."
A murmur of agreement spread through the crowd.
Vincent considered his options. His convoy had capable soldiers, but they could not afford to linger here for too long. Every delay pushed him further behind schedule. Yet, leaving these people stranded was not something he could ignore.
Albert sighed. "What's the plan, my lord?"
Vincent turned to the merchants with a firm expression. "We cannot afford to wait for the bridge to be rebuilt, nor can we escort you through the eastern hills. A convoy of merchants would be too tempting a target for bandits, and I will not endanger my men or your people."
The merchants murmured in disappointment, but they understood his reasoning. Traveling with a heavily armed escort might offer some security, but it would also make them a bigger target.
Vincent continued, "We will take the detour alone. Without merchants among us, the risk of an ambush may lessen. You, however, should consider waiting for a safer passage."
A few merchants looked uneasy, while others sighed in frustration. But none could argue against his logic.
The journey through the eastern hills stretched longer than expected. Vincent's convoy moved cautiously along the winding paths, their pace slowed by the soldiers' constant vigilance. They had anticipated an ambush at any moment narrow roads, dense tree lines, and sharp turns were perfect spots for an attack. Yet, the bandits never came.
Albert rode beside Vincent's carriage, his brows furrowed. "They should have attacked by now."
One of the soldiers, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, exhaled in frustration. "It's like they're watching us, waiting for something."
"Or they know who we are and decided we weren't worth the trouble," Vincent said calmly, though he shared their unease. Bandits rarely let such an opportunity slip away unless they had reason to.
Despite the lack of confrontation, the tension weighed heavily on the soldiers. They had been on high alert for days, their nerves stretched thin by the constant threat of an unseen enemy. Their exhaustion became apparent movements sluggish, shoulders slumped, reactions delayed. They needed rest, or their vigilance would soon turn into vulnerability.
By the seventh day of their journey, they finally approached the outskirts of a town under the rule of a noble. The sight of civilization was a welcome relief. Smoke rose from chimneys, the smell of baked bread and roasting meat drifting through the air. Unlike the barren roads they had passed, this place seemed untouched by hardship.
Albert exhaled, rubbing his temples. "We should stop here for the night, my lord. The men are exhausted. If we press on, it will only slow us down further."
Vincent gave a small nod. "Agreed. We'll rest here, but only for the night."
As Vincent and his men approached the town nestled within the hills, the change in atmosphere was palpable. Unlike the weary, desperate settlements they had passed before, this town was brimming with life on the surface, at least. The streets were clean, the buildings well-maintained, and the markets bustling. Yet, beneath the surface, something felt off.
Albert rode up beside Vincent's carriage, his expression cautious. "My lord, this town belongs to Baron Aldrecht. He is known for his… extravagant tastes."
Vincent glanced out the carriage window. The people here moved with purpose, but their eyes lacked warmth. There was no laughter in the streets, no friendly chatter. The guards stationed at various points stood tall, but their posture was one of intimidation rather than protection.
As they entered deeper into the town, a herald dressed in flamboyant silks suddenly stepped forward, flanked by two armored knights. He raised his voice dramatically. "Lord Vincent of Ravennest! The honorable Baron Aldrecht extends his warmest invitation to you and your men. He insists you rest in his humble abode and partake in his evening feast."
Albert muttered under his breath. "Humble, he says."
Vincent remained expressionless. He had little patience for nobles who flaunted excess while their people suffered. But refusing outright might insult the Baron, and he needed to see the situation firsthand. With a slight nod, he answered, "Lead the way."
The Baron's estate was the very definition of opulence. The entrance was adorned with golden trimmings, chandeliers hung from every hallway, and lavish red carpets lined the floors. Servants bustled about, their eyes downcast, moving quickly to avoid displeasure.
Baron Aldrecht himself lounged atop a grandiose seat, more of a throne than a chair, surrounded by richly dressed guests who laughed at his every word. He was a rotund man, his fingers adorned with jeweled rings, his face flushed from overindulgence.
As Vincent entered, Aldrecht spread his arms dramatically. "Ah! The famed Lord of Ravennest graces my hall! Come, come! You must be exhausted from your travels. Sit, eat, drink! What is mine is yours tonight."
Vincent took his seat, but his sharp gaze wandered across the hall. The tables overflowed with food roasted meats, exotic fruits, and the finest wines all while the common folk outside barely scraped by. The contrast was sickening.
Albert remained standing behind Vincent, his expression neutral but his hands clenched behind his back. The soldiers, though grateful for the rest, exchanged wary glances as servants poured them wine.
Aldrecht chuckled, swirling his goblet. "You know, Lord Vincent, I've heard many tales about you. They say you rule with an iron will but a soft heart. A rare combination among us nobles."
Vincent met his gaze coolly. "A ruler's duty is to his people."
Aldrecht laughed boisterously. "Ah, idealism! So refreshing! But you see, my friend, a ruler's duty is also to enjoy the finer things in life. What good is power if one does not indulge?"
Vincent said nothing, merely observing. The Baron was exactly the type of man he despised one who saw his people as mere tools for his own comfort.
The night continued, filled with boastful tales, forced laughter, and an ever-growing display of decadence. Vincent knew this man was not worth his time, but his presence here had already revealed enough. Tomorrow, they would leave at first light, carrying with them the image of a lord drowning in luxury while his people lived in silent obedience.
After leaving the noble's lavish estate behind, Vincent's convoy continued its journey toward the capital. Some merchants had decided to travel alongside them, seeking protection from any remaining threats on the road. Unlike before, Vincent did not interfere these merchants were simply opportunists hoping to avoid trouble, and their presence was not an immediate concern.
The journey took several days, with the merchants traveling in tow. Along the way, Vincent overheard conversations among them, many of whom grumbled about the heavy taxes imposed by their previous lord. Their words painted a picture of corruption and excessive levies that had drained their wealth and left them desperate for alternatives. Some even murmured that if things continued this way, they would have no choice but to seek refuge in territories like Ravennest, where governance was known to be fairer.
Albert, riding alongside Vincent, shook his head. "It seems corruption festers everywhere, my lord. Even the merchants who exploit others find themselves at the mercy of a greedier hand."
Vincent remained silent, merely taking in the information. This was not his concern at least, not yet. His focus remained on the journey ahead.
As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the road, the towering walls of the royal capital finally came into view. The grand gates stood imposing, flanked by heavily armed guards who watched every approaching traveler with sharp eyes.
Albert exhaled, stretching his arms. "Finally, we've arrived."
Vincent's carriage came to a halt before the palace gates. A royal official, clad in fine robes, stepped forward to verify his identity. "Lord Vincent of Ravennest, we have been expecting you."
With a nod, Vincent descended from the carriage, his piercing gaze scanning the opulent entrance of the palace. The journey had been long, filled with obstacles and revelations. But now, he was here. And soon, he would learn the true reason for the king's summons.
As the gates opened before him, Vincent took his first step into the heart of the kingdom's power.