Another morning was met with another wake-up call from the System, Logan’s head a bit thick and fuzzy to which he attributed the combination of their encounter yesterday and the influx of information from his last tome. Checking over his status, he couldn’t help but feel pleased with all the numbers increasing so rapidly in what he assumed to be a skyrocketing success, comparing himself to what the natives could achieve in the same time.

“If only I was here under better circumstances. I’m pretty sure tomorrow would be the day I helped take dad for his checkup at the hospital. There better be someone to fill in for me”, Logan thought to himself as he began to pack up the camp.

“Ready for day 4 of walking? We should be hitting another stop towards evening, a part-way inn that should let us hold up for a night and get some good food”, Marcus explained, readying himself for the day ahead.

“That’s great, rations and salted meats can only take me so far, and I could do with a nice bed.”

“Make sure all our valuables are in the inventory, I heard it isn’t completely safe there, could find a pickpocket, but that space of yours should stop that.”

“Got it, most of our stuff is in there anyways. I can put your money there too if need be”, Logan offered, to which Marcus quickly accepted as he placed his coins into Logan’s backpack though it really went into the inventory through a sneaky transaction.

As there was potential danger ahead Logan saw fit to prepare 1 cast of Flame, 1 Gaia, and 2 Infuse for the day, though it might kill any low-level bandit Logan had other ways to deal with weaker foes. The Spellthief was still curious to test out his Infuse spell, and would use it if possible.

With the days passing outside of a settlement, Logan could tell that his facial hair was starting to grow back, faster than during the 7-day death timer though it could have been one of the miscellaneous benefits from the Vokka buff. Due to the rather large scar on his cheek, there was a bald strip to boot. Combined with the fact he hadn’t had a haircut since arriving his hair was getting longer than he liked, one of the first stops at Gauntlet would be to find a barber of some sort.

The fourth day was long and otherwise not very eventful, the wind had a chilling bite to it that the pair were able to stave off due to their constant movement. Passing by fewer villagers and a lower number of adventurers, Logan was able to even notice a level 10 adventurer, a Knight whose gear was a sparkling silver with a sword that had red runes all along its blade. Not surprising was the amount of HP the Knight had, a considerable 182, 108 over what Logan had.

“If I had to fight someone like that, it’d take all of my spells and then some, and that’s if he doesn’t have any reduction or resistances to them”, Logan calculated. Not wanting to draw too much attention, the pair moved on steadily.

With the sun setting in the distance, day turning to night, the duo were nearing just under the midway part of their travels. Approaching into view was a rather large building set to the eastern side of the dirt path, made up of dark-brown wood with wide-open window panels. Lights from candles and the interior fireplace let a yellow haze seep into the black and blue of the outside. The scent of honeyed mead and spiced meats wafted from the windows, enticing local foxes to the exterior of the forests, though keeping their distance due to the rough noises of shouting, signing, and clinking of clay tankards.

“There it is, the Hanged Hen Stop, as close to a halfway marker as any between Tinte and Gauntlet”, Marcus spoke, pointing towards the active inn.

Logan gave a quick scan over the building, snapping his fingers to find how many people were inside. Sounds rebounded off of wood, stone, clay, and flesh, all returning to poke at Logan’s frame to grant him information. The inn had at least 10 patrons in the main room, any other rooms blocked his Echo Radar from scanning them. Aside from the inn inhabitants, the local wildlife was also displayed to Logan, though none were of any size that would give him caution.

Pushing the double doors open, the pair entered into the warmer interior of the inn. Scraping of wood on wood filled the room as the patrons turned their chairs to look at the newcomers. Logan returned the glares with his own, “Identify”, he commanded in his head. The patrons consisted of two merchants of levels 0 and 1, two fighter adventures of level 2, one knight adventurer of level 3, and finally five fighter adventurers of level 4. A new face was that of the innkeeper, appearing from a side room, holding a solid level 5 as a Fighter, no doubt retired early.

All faces seemed human, possibly any other races were kicked out or hadn’t arrived today. Identification had also informed Logan that the level 2 and 3 adventurers were hired by the Tinte hall, yet the five of level 4 had no hall affiliation with a background more in thievery and banditry. The other patrons either had no idea due to a lack of this skill or kept to themselves to not cause any unwanted harm by the would-be bandits.

“Some casters joining the drinks eh”, one of the thugs commented, to which a few others chuckled. It seemed like the customers weren’t too focused on the Spellthief and Devout, turning back to their tables to continue chatting and drinking.

Making their way to the counter at the far end, the duo had to pass all of the tables with the customers’ eyes taking a quick look at them as they went by. Marcus took a noticeable, but not overly large, step closer to Logan. “Could cut the tension in the air with a knife”, Logan thought to himself.

At the counter, the pair got a better sight at the innkeeper. The level 5 fighter looked to be in his late 20s, portions of his swept-back brunette hair had been cut away at the scalp, possibly from scars gained in battle. His eyebrows had three cuts on the right, two on the left, his lips having another two scars going across them vertically. By good luck the man’s vision was left intact, two blue eyes scanning over the newcomers.

With a calm, deep, tone of voice he welcomed the adventurers, “Welcome to Hanged Hen Stop, you here for lodging or just sustenance, sirs?”

“A room for two if you have it spare, evenings meals to go with it too”, Logan asked, his eyes glancing to the corner to check his surroundings.

“I have such a room available, it’ll be 2 silver in all if you’re not sharing with others.”

Logan was slightly taken aback at the price, though this was an out-of-the-way inn so business was probably slow, alongside the fact that Logan was a new face. Using the best poker face he had, Logan put his hand into his coin pouch to access his inventory and pulled out two silver coins to put onto the counter.

“That’s fine, what meals do you have tonight?”

“We’ve meat wraps and stews of the forest”, the innkeeper replied, sliding a small piece of parchment menu with a key for room 3 atop it.

Glancing over the menu, it seemed the meat wraps were akin to a fajita back on Earth featuring chicken-similar meat with vegetables and sauces within a wrap. The stews were a combination of vegetables and meat called “raylen”, asking the System Logan was informed it was an avian-porcine hybrid, with a taste between chicken and gammon.

“Hey, Marcus, mind if we order one of each and share? I am curious how they taste”, Logan asked as he turned his head to his ally.

“That is fine, the variety will ease the plainness of our travel food.”

Taking the room key, Logan asked for a single order of meat wraps and the stew, the innkeeper easily hearing their earlier conversation gave a quick affirmative nod and told the two that it will be out in a few minutes. As the innkeeper left, the pair turned to find themselves a table, which they were able to towards an opened window far from the other patrons.

Glancing back and forth from the customers, Logan continued to use Identification as it would grant him more information the longer he observed a target due to its increasing levels.

The five fighters of level 4 had HP ranging from 56 to 64, Logan’s 74 HP just barely beat them out with 3 levels above them, and that was including his trinket bonus. “The higher we get, the more risk we have when dealing with other classes. I am an anti-mage class, straight up physical classes have the upper hand against me. Each of them could take maybe two or more spells with the damage I can output. I hope they don’t cause trouble”, Logan calculated in his head.

It wasn’t too long before the pair’s meals were brought out, flavourful steam wafting from the hot food placed before them. Opting for ale, the two downed their first tankard as thankful praise was given to something to overpower the bland water they had been treated to thus far on their journey. Logan cut the wrap in half to share with Marcus who also handed his spoon back and forth with the Spellthief.

The wrap was full to bursting with ingredients, made even worse when cut in half. Perfectly grilled vegetables coupled with large chunks of chicken-adjacent meat. Comparing it to the stew, Logan found the raylen to be quite salty yet having a rich flavour that made him salivate even more. Either due to the food being amazingly well-cooked or the fact they had been living on salted meats and rations for the last 4 days, the pair felt like they were in the above from the taste.

During their meal the doors opened only two more times, once was for a travelling caravan that was stocking up on supplies before hitting the road almost immediately with the other merchants in tow, and the second was the last part of the adventuring band who was meeting the other two at the inn before moving on. The inn was getting less cramped as time went on, only the innkeeper and the bandits remained aside from Logan’s party.

Over their time enjoying the meals, Logan did his best to eavesdrop on the opposing party. It seemed like Identification was telling the truth when it detailed their history of thievery, not exactly hiding their conversations about the “takes” and “relinquishing” they did. From what he could gather, the group of bandits were heading eastward to deal with a band of pesky crowbolds, seemingly a humanoid-ish race that resembled crows. Just like their animal cousin, the crowbolds are attracted to shiny objects and make for better bandits than the humans.

Logan remembered reading about that certain race in the tome “The Many Faces of Avanar” which noted them as rather uncivilized. They could learn to speak Ava, though many did not spend the time to do so and had an average lifespan of around 52 years. There were some documented villages of the crowbolds, but overall the book didn’t paint the species in a good light.

“If they are bothering with hunting monster-adjacent species I shouldn’t have to worry about them troubling us, unless their discrimination towards casters puts us higher on their list”, Logan reconciled within his mind.

Giving a nod to Marcus, Logan motioned to head upstairs to their room for the night. As they stood up it seemed like the opposing party were awaiting just such an event, the burlier of the bandits standing and moving towards the pair. Standing at 6’1” he was just an inch shorter than Logan, swept back and waxed spikey black hair showed the man as someone who wanted his gaze uninterrupted, looking straight at the Spellthief with dull brown eyes.

“Hey they, caster, you looking for some work on the road? We could use a blast or two down the way”, the bandit spoke, his voice rough and slightly raspy even though he didn’t look much older than 25.

“Sorry, we’re actually on a tight schedule, we won’t be able to help out”, Logan replied, not wanting to divert to help out potential backstabbing bandits.

“Come on, don’t be that way. It’ll take a day, two at most. You’ll get good pay, 10 silver to each of ya”, the bandit’s words seemed to honey slightly, but the sweet talk was diminished with the glares of his allies behind him.

“While that is a high reward, we really can’t be diverting from our path.”

With a stern gaze, the bandit grabbed onto Logan’s arm as he tried to pass by. “You sure? How about 15 silver each? We’d really appreciate some magic against an armoured crowbold, you can even take its talons.”

“This could turn ugly, he’s pressing the matter kinda harshly”, Logan thought to himself as he turned to eye up Marcus. “We’re actually not that offensively geared, our services are needed to help some people-” Logan began, but was cut off as the screeching of wood against wood erupted at the bandit table, the remaining four getting to attention.

“You’re sure you don’t want to help us? It’s dangerous for casters to be without their martials”, the bandit added threateningly.

“Hey!” a voice called out, the innkeeper returning from the backroom and slamming his hand onto the counter. “No rough business in here”, he continued with an authoritative voice.

The bandit let go of Logan, raising his hands slightly in a surrendering pose. “No trouble here, boss. Just instructing this fine mage on where to go next.”

“Yeah, we’re all good here”, Logan added with a hint of pride over the bandit who was shot down by someone stronger. With Marcus in tow, the pair headed up the stairs to room 3 though they could hear a somewhat rowdy discussion downstairs.

“That was close, I was sure a fight was upon us, Logan.”

“It may very well be still, we’ll have to bar the door tonight.”

Keeping their wits about them as they proceeded to the upper floor, they could see it had around six or so rooms, one being a communal washroom, another belonging to storage for both the customers and the inn, one for the innkeeper’s rest and then finally three rooms for customers.

Making it to their room 3 Logan unlocked the door, locked it behind Marcus and placed a wooden chair under the door handle. “That’ll at least give us some warning if they invade our room”, Logan added.

“They did look rough, but are you sure we should have turned them down?”

“My scanning skill revealed them to be thieves and bandits, through and through, I didn’t want to risk a betrayal”, Logan replied, investigating the room further. It was a bit smaller than his room back in Tinte, though most of the floor space was taken up by six beds with barely six inches distance between them against the far wall.

“Oh, that skill you used to see my capabilities? It shows quite the range of information.”

Logan gave an ample nod, deciding that a bed against the door may prove more useful than the small wooden chair, pushing that instead to bar their entrance. “It has gained more power as we’ve travelled, it didn’t use to always show as much as it does now.”

“Light Ally”, Logan called out as he summoned his usual cave-delving friend, “Stay near the door and if anyone tries to open it then try to wake me”, he instructed the sprite of light. The yellow orb danced in the air and seemingly made a nodding expression, its lack of speech or mannerisms made it hard to communicate but it was generally able to follow commands in the past.

Picking out some books for the nightly read, Logan settled on “Etiquette and You” as he had hoped it would aid him in conversations as well as how he should act around the natives of Avanar. Marcus decided to read the “Plants 'n' 'Erbs” tome, to help in the retrieval of medicinal herbs down the line.

Logan’s latest read was a bit shorter than the previous books, around 80 or so pages. It contained a lot more in the way of diagrams to demonstrate actions like bows or salutes, seemingly identical to that of Earth with a few variations. Each kingdom had its own hierarchy and leadership, Gauntlet was wholly a monarchy whereas the northern kingdom and capital of Helm are more of a dictatorship. The southern kingdom and capital of Sabaton are led by a theocracy headed by the faith of Vokka, the Dame of the Mind.

Each kingdom had variations of bows or hand signals to give to the higher-ups on meeting, though it seemed all three of the kingdoms were in a ceasefire from the several wars that plagued the lands. The last war was around 30 or so years ago, ended by another oracle at the time. Gauntlet and Sabaton are seemingly much closer in relation to one another than that of Helm, which still holds many a grudge to this day.

In combination with their leadership styles, Gauntlet is mostly led by royal knights and those of noble blood. Sabaton focuses more on magical might as well as an army of Devouts to keep their armies always in action. Helm, with its ruling houses pushing their capital through countless rivers in courtrooms, is fueled by mercenaries of all breeds. Out of the three, Helm is again the outlier, housing the largest of army forces.

As an addendum to the book, it also noted that all three kingdoms were on the same continent but there were rumours and magical scrying experiments that led to many believing of other continents in the world, the closest being to the far west. Sadly, the vast and dangerous seas make it impossible to travel across the world.

“Good information to have, but I doubt I will go to either of the other two kingdoms by the time I can leave”, Logan thought to himself as he began to get ready to sleep. Marcus was going to stay up for a little while longer, so the Spellthief got comfortable in his own bed with the backdrop of flicking pages in the background. It seemed, at least for this night, they would have no issues with the bandits sleeping next door.

With the night passing by without much issue, Logan had hoped for a long rest in a comfy bed without the need to worry about his surroundings. However, this was disturbed by the fact a loud thud hit against the floor alerting him to another’s presence. Darting up, he noticed his Light Ally had disappeared, possibly due to him being asleep. A muffled voice could be heard from under him, possibly in the backroom that the innkeeper was often within.

Through the movement, thuds, and muffled sounds he could make out a few voices and words “coins”, “we’ve”, and “blood” were audible to the Spellthief. The hope for a calm rest vanished.

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