Chapter 111: Wagon

Chapter 111: Chapter 111: Wagon

"It is not length of life, but depth of life." — Ralph Waldo Emerson,

The descent from the freezing heights of the Ashen Ridge was a welcome change.

As Riven crossed the boundary stone marking the edge of human territory, the thick, bruised skies of the Demon Empire gradually gave way to the pale twilight of the northern Human Empire provinces. The temperature was still cold, but the biting mountain winds had begun to weaken. Even the air felt different.

Riven pulled his hood a little lower and continued down the winding trade road.

He had no particular destination in mind beyond reaching the capital. Finding a large port or a busy staging town would have been easy enough, but it would also have wasted time. Instead, he simply followed the road until he came across a commercial caravan preparing to depart.

The convoy belonged to the Sterling Mercantile Company. Six reinforced cargo wagons stood in a line along the roadside, their sturdy wooden frames loaded with iron ore, rare pelts, and various trade goods. Several armed guards moved between the wagons while merchants checked their supplies.

They were heading south toward the interior.

Convenient.

Riven approached the nearest campfire.

The caravan master, a burly, weathered human named Garet, noticed him almost immediately. He was a broad shouldered man with a thick beard, a few old scars across his face, and the rough appearance of someone who had spent most of his life on the road.

His eyes moved from Riven’s hood to his clothing, then settled on the strange creature resting across his shoulders.

Nyx looked back at him with her violet eyes.

Garet frowned.

"You’re traveling alone on the mountain trail after dark, boy?"

Riven stopped beside the fire.

"Seems that way."

Garet stared at him for a moment before taking a slow drag from his carved wooden pipe.

"That’s a good way to end up as wolf feed. The borderlands have been crawling with cutthroats and deserters lately. Especially around the mountain passes."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

"Where are your parents?"

"No clue."

Garet gave him a brief look but didn’t press the matter.

"Where are you headed?"

"South."

"That’s a rather large direction."

"The capital, eventually."

Garet chuckled.

"Eventually? You planning to walk all the way there?"

"If I have to."

The caravan master shook his head.

"Well, you won’t get far on foot. Not with those mountains behind you. The roads are dangerous, and the weather gets worse farther north."

Riven glanced toward the wagons.

"I noticed you were heading south. I was hoping to travel with you."

"And what exactly do you have to offer?"

"I can work."

Garet looked him over.

The boy was lean, almost fragile looking beneath his dark clothing. He didn’t appear particularly strong, and his quiet demeanor made it difficult to judge his temperament.

Still, Garet had traveled long enough to know that appearances could be deceiving.

"You know how to handle a weapon?"

"Well enough."

"Well enough," Garet repeated, sounding unconvinced.

Riven shrugged.

"I won’t be much trouble."

The caravan master studied him for another moment before sighing.

"Fine. You can ride in the rear wagon with the feed sacks. You’ll help with whatever needs doing along the way. But if we’re attacked, stay out of the way and keep your head down. Understand?"

"Sure."

Garet pointed toward the last wagon.

"Get yourself settled. We’re leaving shortly."

Riven gave a small nod and walked away.

He climbed into the back of the wagon, settling beside the sacks of animal feed. Nyx jumped down from his shoulders and curled up beside him.

The creature looked around briefly before lowering her head.

"Comfortable?"

Nyx blinked.

"Good."

Riven leaned against the wooden frame and closed his eyes.

He had no interest in making conversation with the merchants. A quiet journey was all he wanted.

The caravan departed shortly after sunset.

For several hours, the wagons creaked and groaned along the winding forest road. Their wheels occasionally struck loose stones, causing the cargo to shift and the entire wagon to shake.

The merchants kept several lanterns burning near the front of the convoy. Their voices carried through the darkness as they discussed trade prices, road conditions, and the recent increase in bandit activity.

Riven listened without paying much attention.

Most of the conversation was ordinary.

One merchant complained about the price of iron. Another mentioned that a nearby settlement had recently hired additional guards after several travelers disappeared. Garet occasionally joined in, offering his own opinions about the safest routes through the region.

Riven remained in the rear wagon.

He had little reason to involve himself.

The merchants knew nothing about him, and he preferred to keep it that way.

They had no idea what he had recently experienced. They knew nothing about the Abyss, the bloodshed at Kaelen’s Rest, or the companions he had lost.

To them, he was simply a quiet teenager traveling south with an unusual pet.

That was perfectly fine.

Riven shifted slightly as the wagon rolled over another uneven patch of road.

Nyx lifted her head.

"Go back to sleep."

She stared at him for a moment before settling down again.

Riven leaned back and watched the trees pass beneath the moonlight.

It was peaceful.

A little too peaceful, perhaps, but he wasn’t particularly worried.

He had traveled through places far worse than this.

It was past midnight when the convoy entered the Gorgon’s Throat.

The road narrowed considerably as it passed between two steep rock walls. Dense trees grew along the upper slopes, their branches hanging over the path and blocking most of the moonlight.

Riven was beginning to doze when the wagon suddenly lurched forward.

Wham!

The entire convoy jolted to a stop.

A heavy timber barricade had fallen across the road ahead.

Riven opened his eyes.

A moment later, dozens of torches flared to life along the rocky ledges.

Men began emerging from the trees.

They were heavily armed, carrying swords, axes, crossbows, and a variety of other weapons. Some wore pieces of mismatched armor, while others had covered their faces with scarves and leather masks.

There were at least thirty of them.

"Ambush! Stand and deliver!"

A scarred man carrying a notched battleaxe jumped down onto the road. He landed heavily before raising his weapon toward the caravan.

"Drop your weapons and get away from the wagons! Anyone who resists gets buried here!"

The merchants immediately erupted into panic.

Several guards drew their swords, while others scrambled to retrieve their shields. The draft horses began whinnying and pulling against their harnesses.

"Bandits!" Garet roared from the front of the convoy. "Circle the wagons! Protect the cargo!"

Riven looked toward the commotion.

Then he glanced at the dozen men dropping from the trees near the rear wagon.

"...Troublesome."

He pushed himself upright.

One of the bandits noticed him climbing down from the wagon.

"Hey! You! Get back inside!"

Riven ignored him.

The man frowned and started walking closer.

"Didn’t you hear me, brat? Get down on the ground!"

Riven glanced at the man, then at the group approaching behind him.

He sighed quietly.

He had only wanted a peaceful ride.

Was that really too much to ask?

Three dark needles formed between his fingers. They were small, almost delicate, but their sharpened points carried densely compressed mana.

The nearest bandit barely had time to open his mouth.

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

The needles crossed the distance in an instant.

Three men collapsed into the dirt, each struck cleanly through the throat.

Riven lowered his hand.

The remaining bandits stopped.

For a moment, they simply stared at their fallen companions.

One of them looked toward Riven.

"What the hell was that?"

Riven didn’t answer.

A larger man pushed through the group, gripping a heavy iron flail.

"Little bastard!"

He swung the weapon toward Riven’s head.

Riven shifted one step to the side.

The flail passed harmlessly through the space where he had been standing.

Before the attacker could recover, Riven used Phantom Step and appeared behind him. His sword slipped from its sheath in one smooth motion.

Schwing.

The man’s body collapsed into the dirt.

Riven looked down at him.

He wiped his blade against the man’s clothing and turned toward the others.

By now, the bandits had begun to understand that they had chosen the wrong target.

Unfortunately, understanding that did not make them any safer.

Two men rushed him from opposite sides.

Riven stepped forward.

The first sword passed over his shoulder. He turned his wrist and drove his blade into the attacker’s chest. The second man attempted to bring his axe down, but Riven casually shifted backward and allowed the weapon to strike the dirt.

A small movement of his hand sent another Umbral Needle through the man’s throat.

He continued forward.

There was no dramatic display of power, no unnecessary movement, and certainly no shouting.

Riven simply dealt with whoever approached him.

A bandit attempted to retreat toward the trees. Another raised his crossbow from behind a wagon. Riven flicked his fingers, sending two needles through the air.

Both men fell.

Nyx had climbed onto the wagon roof. Her violet eyes followed the movement of the remaining attackers.

An archer tried to scramble up the rocky slope, hoping to escape the fighting. Nyx tilted her head.

A pulse of psychic pressure struck him.

His body stiffened, and he fell backward into the dirt.

Riven glanced up.

"Don’t let them near the horses."

Nyx gave a quiet hiss.

Satisfied, Riven returned his attention to the remaining bandits.

The entire exchange lasted less than a minute.

His core had barely been disturbed. He hadn’t needed to use his stronger techniques, and his breathing remained perfectly steady.

More than a dozen bandits lay scattered across the road.

The others had finally lost their nerve.

One dropped his sword.

Another turned and ran.

Within moments, the remaining attackers were fleeing into the forest, abandoning their wounded companions and whatever equipment they had brought.

Riven watched them disappear between the trees.

He considered pursuing them.

Then he decided against it.

There was little point in chasing a group of frightened bandits through an unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night.

He sheathed his sword.

"Well, that’s over."

The ravine fell silent.

The surviving caravan guards remained frozen in place, their weapons still raised. Some stared at the bodies scattered across the road, while others looked toward the teenager standing beside the rear wagon.

Garet slowly lowered his broadsword.

He had been preparing to defend the convoy against a group of ordinary bandits. He had expected a difficult fight, perhaps a few injuries, and possibly some lost cargo.

He had not expected a teenage traveler to dismantle the entire ambush.

The caravan master walked toward the rear wagon.

His eyes moved over the bodies before settling on Riven. The boy was calmly wiping a small amount of blood from his blade.

He didn’t look tired.

He didn’t even seem particularly interested in what had happened.

"By the gods..."

Riven glanced up.

"Something wrong?"

Garet stared at him.

"Something wrong?"

He gestured toward the road.

"Look around you!"

Riven followed his gesture.

There were quite a few bodies.

"Ah."

"Ah?"

Garet looked as though he had no idea what to say.

He glanced toward Nyx, who was now sitting on the wagon roof with her tail curled around her feet.

Then he looked back at Riven.

"Who in the hells are you?"

"Riven."

"I know your name! I mean, what are you?"

Riven tilted his head.

"A traveler?"

Garet stared at him for several seconds.

"You just killed more than a dozen armed men."

"They attacked first."

"That doesn’t explain how you did it!"

Riven looked down at his sword.

"Practice, mostly."

Garet opened his mouth.

Then he closed it.

He had met plenty of skilled adventurers during his years as a merchant. Some were strong enough to fight monsters, while others had earned reputations for clearing entire bandit camps.

But this boy was different.

He had barely moved.

He hadn’t even looked particularly concerned when the ambush began.

Garet rubbed his forehead.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

The caravan master stared at him again.

"...Fourteen."

"That’s what I was told."

Garet let out a slow breath.

Riven sheathed his sword and returned to the wagon.

"Are we leaving soon?"

Garet blinked.

"What?"

"The road is blocked. We should probably move the barricade before more of them show up."

For a moment, Garet simply watched him.

Then he turned toward the rest of the convoy.

"Everyone! Get moving! Check the horses and make sure nobody’s injured! Move those bodies off the road!"

The guards immediately began following his orders.

Some were still visibly shaken, but they quickly returned to their duties. A few glanced toward Riven as they passed, making sure to keep a reasonable distance.

Riven climbed into the back of the wagon and settled beside the feed sacks.

Nyx hopped down and curled up next to him.

He leaned against the wooden frame.

"Wake me when we’re moving."

Nyx rested her head against his leg.

Outside, Garet continued shouting orders. The merchants began checking their cargo, while the guards dragged the fallen bandits away from the road.

The caravan master occasionally glanced toward the rear wagon.

He had invited a quiet boy onto his caravan because the teenager needed a cheap ride south.

Now he wasn’t entirely sure whether he had invited a passenger or acquired the services of an entire adventuring party.

Riven, meanwhile, had already closed his eyes.

He had a long journey ahead of him.

And if the rest of the road was going to be this troublesome, he hoped the next caravan had better luck.