Long Roads

The daggers were up early, but not too much so. Good enough to be out before breakfast if they wanted, but they didn't. Argent was already in the common room looking vaguely blissful, so it seemed he'd gone looking for and found a lay. Jarod felt a mild envy for that but put it aside for the moment.

"Jarod," the innkeeper called. No rush in it, but not idle, either. The others continued on to the same table as Argent while he walked over by the kitchen door to see what she wanted. He'd already paid up so it couldn't have been about that.

"Won't keep you," she said. Lightly dusted in flour, apron still on, sleeves rolled, she looked busy enough that he believed her. "Just—my boy's thinking about heading to the valley. Be honest, what are his prospects?"

"Well, that… why's he doin that?" Jarod asked, caught flat footed. He didn't know her son. "Thought things were doing alright here."

"They are," she said. "More or less. He's got a mind to marry, though."

Jarod nodded, though he didn't see how wanting to marry led someone to adventuring. Usually it was the opposite, men did it to avoid marriage, not seek it.

"We do well enough, but the local girls are spoken for, and we can't really afford to entice one from further off. Their families want more, money to visit and such, proof that we're not luring them into something bad. I don't blame them, I'd want the same, we just can't afford all that," she explained.

Jarod nodded slowly. He'd heard that tune before. Families that cared about their daughters did things like that, sent a brother or the father to check on things. Probably wouldn't be too expensive if you only had to do it once, but there wasn't any guarantee of it going through. Add the bride fees and such and it added up quickly.

"Said maybe adventure work would change his stars a bit," she added, eyes sharp. "Maybe meet someone along the way. You know how young men get."

"Right," Jarod agreed just to have something to say. Facing down that kind of cost, the valley would seem tempting. Not too far, maybe not that dangerous if you didn't need a lot.

"I imagine he could do something like porter work without trouble, but he hasn't got more than a dagger to his name and no armour. Less than you lot started with," she added, clearly still wanting his opinion.

For a breath, he almost told her the truth: that the road rarely gives more than it takes, and even when it does, it leaves teeth in your soul for interest. But he didn't.

Instead, Jarod reached into his coat and pulled out a small leather pouch. It clinked when he handed it over, weighty with silver. A little heavy for a traveler. Enough to tip the scale on a dream.

Her eyes widened. "That's—"

"My career started about the same," he lied with a half-smile. "Wanted more. Thought maybe I'd find it out there. Tell your boy he ought to decide if he wants to build something steady here or let the road get its hooks in him. Because once it does—most men don't come back. And the ones who do… don't stay long."

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She nodded slowly, fingers tight on the pouch. Not grateful. Not quite. But something quieter, deeper. She turned then, fled back into the kitchens, likely to hide the money before anyone could see her with it. Smart.

Jarod went to join the others at the table, tucking into the food already waiting without comment. None of them had families waiting for them anywhere. He couldn't remember his own. He didn't know if 'bastard' was accurate or just a casual curse when hurled at him, and he never would. Still, the idea of someone doing something like that, asking after his prospects, caring about his future, the appeal of it wasn't lost on him and left a warm feeling in a place he generally ignored the ache of.

They hardly touched their food, too used to the valleys offerings, and left quickly. They were nearly out of town before anyone even noticed, and Jarod preferred it that way. Horses loaded, cart rattling behind Argent, and the others quiet in the early chill. No goodbyes for them, not even from the guards.

Just the creak of saddles and Cord's habitual throat-clear as he adjusted his shield strap. He'd started doing it ever since one of his trainers busted him in the throat and crushed it. It was the day he'd learned to make sure his throat guard was secure, every time, and he'd never broken either habit since.

The first two days out of the post town passed without trouble. The roads were dry, the skies mild, and the travelers they passed were quick to nod and keep moving. Not intimidated, just uninterested in the affairs of others.

Even the nights were easy. Meals hot and familiar even without a fire and the bedrolls from the valley softer than any roadside inn had ever managed. They didn't talk much, didn't need to. Argent handled the cart without complaint. Quint mostly read. Pip cursed whatever happened to annoy him which had long become a familiar background drone on the road.

Jarod knew they should have been glad for the quiet, and mostly they were. But there was a low thrum beneath it, an edge to the peace that made it feel borrowed. It wasn't nerves, exactly. Just anticipation. He'd thought something would happen once they left the valley, some looming misfortune, though he couldn't say what.

Not a retribution for their choices, just something. He supposed it was just the aftermath of the training they'd gone through. A feeling it would be needed, used, sooner than later.

On the fourth day, just before noon, they found a cart half sunk in a ditch off the side of the road. Not wrecked, just abandoned. No blood, no bodies, not even broken wheels. Just a loose bit of cloth caught on a wheel-spoke, flapping in the wind like a forgotten flag.

"The fuck?" Pip asked, frowning as he took it in. Like everyone, he could see it wasn't empty. Tools and gear too valuable to leave behind unless you had no choice laid scattered in the dirt beside it.

Jarod didn't like it but it wasn't the sort of thing they'd normally get involved in. There was no telling what manner of trouble had brought it about. Unfortunately Argent was already on all fours, sniffing and examining the ground.

"A coyote woman was leading it. She took the donkey and fled," Argent said, nose low over a set of tracks, animal-like, but too large. Demi-human, even to Jarod's eyes. "Four humans on horseback came through maybe an hour back. Not close. They've got a dog and it has her scent."

Jarod's stomach tightened. There was only one kind of rider that tracked demi-folk with dogs. Seekers.

He groaned. He didn't like seekers, in principle or practice, but they were military, trained longer than him and the daggers. It wasn't their kind of trouble.

He disliked the idea of fighting four Seekers and a dog. The trouble was that he liked the idea of leaving them be slightly less.

"Let's get to it then," Cord said with a sigh. Jarod looked over, startled.

"You've got that dumb look on your face. Like you need to shit but are having feelings about it instead of just doing it," Cord explained.

"Pensive," Quint offered.

"Same thing," Pip chimed in with a laugh.

"Fine. I want to do something about it. Everyone in?" Jarod asked. Things had changed in the valley, but that hadn't. A Dagger had the right to say no to a job.

Pip just rolled his eyes while Quint nodded solemnly and Argent was already practically vibrating in his skin to get on the trail. Cord had already agreed so that made it unanimous.

"Then let's use our fancy map to see if we can get ahead of them or set something up," Jarod said, trying not to smile.

"What, our gallant hero not looking for a fair fight?" Pip asked, hand on his chest dramatically.

"Fair's for idiots. Let's kill these fucks," Jarod said, and they all shared a laugh.

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