"You don't need to help us," the old lady says as we walk. "I'm sure we're taking you away from your own journey. You can return to Ivory Breeze if you want."

After finishing up the two Dungeons around Ivory Breeze, Drake and I were enjoying dinner at the tavern when we overheard this lady, her husband, and the two friends of theirs we're with talking about returning to Golden Gale last night. Since it's on the way, we offered to walk with them and after much reluctance, they accepted.

It wasn't that they were reluctant to have people journey with them, it's that they're sure they're taking us away from our own journey.

"We're heading to Golden Gale, ourselves," I tell her. "We're planning on doing the Dungeon outside of it the day after we arrive, then head to Port Zephyr the day after that."

"Not many adventurers come our way," she tells me. "They normally go a longer route to reach Port Zephyr, to do more Dungeons. How long have you two been traveling?"

"A few weeks," I answer. "We're taking a shorter route than would normally be done, our focus isn't on the Dungeons, but traveling to the Water Shrine."

"Yes, the Water Shrine," she says. "I hear the Water Guardian is a beautiful maiden. I visited there once, when I was younger. It's a beautiful place. The islands are beautiful, too, and the fish are delicious. The journey is long, though. Not as short as the trip from Golden Gale to Ivory Breeze and back, though. Much longer."

She continues talking for awhile, the other lady joining in while the two old men start talking with Drake, asking him about his fighting style and how long he's trained and stuff like that. Drake seems to be confused, and I don't think he's realized that they're just talking to talk and fill the time and try to be polite.

It doesn't bother me at all. I'm used to older people telling stories and talking about their past when I helped them out with jobs back in Silent Valley. Many of the kinder ones feel a little lonely, even if they have their friends, and like to talk about the past because it reminds them of happy things. If they find someone will listen, they can talk all day, and in the seven years I lived in Silent Valley, I only heard a few stories repeat. Even those without great adventures have tales to tell.

Around lunchtime, the six of us stop and take a seat in the grass beside the road, pulling out bread, fruit, and cheese to enjoy. While we eat, the elders tell us a story involving a cat, a chicken, a stolen spatula, a turtle, and a bottle of expensive perfume.

The twenty-minute story regales us of an adventure lasting from before sunup to nearly sundown of the same day.

"-and she tried to wash the smell out of the cat," one of the men says. "But the smell just wouldn't go away! It was nearly a month before the poor thing didn't smell like roses anymore."

"It's been twenty-seven years," one of the ladies says. "And we still tease her about her rose-scented cat."

"Well," the other lady says. "We should be setting off again. At least, if we want to reach the inn by nightfall!"

We stand and brush off our clothes, then resume the journey, the men switching to talk with me as the ladies talk with Drake. I think the men are little happier to talk with someone who's trained in combat for a few years than with Drake, who's only trained for a short time and couldn't understand the discussion attempt.

"It's brave of you two," one of the men tells me. "Linking into the System and becoming proper adventurers. I don't think I could shoulder that burden."

"That burden?" Drake looks over. "What burden?"

"Those linked into the System," one of the women says. "Are often expected to do more for us than those who are not. You can try to become a farmer using your extra strength all you want, but in the end, you'll be asked to do more and more, and either become a miserable person who yells at everyone, become miserable as you serve others, or eventually leave the life you chose to live and be miserable due to the expectations placed upon you. Once it's known you're linked into the System, everyone has expectations that you'll help with jobs, bandits, quests, and delving into Dungeons for supplies."

That's another reason why the everyday person doesn't link into the System, even though it would make their jobs easier. The burden really is a heavy one to bear. Adventurers are those who protect society and supply it with things that cannot be obtained through normal work.

Now that I know more about the history of how our world came to be, it makes me wonder if there's some sort of spell over the planet that creates that mindset. There's one that prevents opening portals off of it, so I wouldn't be surprised if there were others, like the one I already theorized about that prevents our technology from progressing past a certain point. A spell that causes those linked into the System to be viewed this way wouldn't be out of the question.

After all, it would reduce how many adventurers there are, which would reduce the magical strain on the Elemental Crystals as they try to support everyone linked in. That would be especially useful in helping them during the early era when there's very little natural magics around. If such a spell exists over this world, it probably helped delay how long it took for the current situation to occur.

Just one of the many mysteries with this world that I may one day learn. Drake may not know if such a spell exists, since he wasn't supposed to come here in the first place. Most of what he knows is based on the stories he was told.

"That's understandable," Drake says. "People always look to those with power to do things, often ignoring the fact that they could reach for the power and do it themselves."

The elders begin discussing with Drake the follies of seeking others to do work instead of doing it when you're able, complete with many tales the elders have to tell. I'm sure Drake has some as well, but he doesn't say anything, probably unsure of how to tell them without revealing that he's not from this world.

We had a long discussion about him just telling people he's from another world, because while there's not really a problem with it, the knowledge that he's not from this world at all could lead to complicated situations we want to avoid.

Another hour passes before we start passing through some woods, and once we do, I sense the presence of others around us. A threat, but not danger. Bandits, most likely. Focusing on the sense for people I've been working on, I try to count how many there are.

The attempt fails, though I do manage to determine there are at least six of them, as I can sense three on each side. But it's not clear on how many are in each area I'm sensing. Drake appears to have noticed them by the way he keeps glancing at me, but he's not saying anything.

"Let's stop here for a moment," I say once we're in the middle of the group of bandits.

"Is everything alright?" One of the elderly women asks. "Are you tired?"

"No," I answer. "We're surrounded."

"I smell fourteen," Drake says.

"So you noticed us, huh?" The bandits approach us, stepping out from behind rocks and trees, a couple even dropping out of the trees. "We'll let you pass, if you give us your loot. And before you think 'oh, we're adventurers, we can take them', know that there isn't a single one of us who hasn't reached Tier II of a Class. We'll make sure you give us your stuff."

"Drake," I say. "Banditry is illegal, and it's permitted for any registered mercenary from a Gold-Rank or higher guild to kill them so long as the mercenary was threatened."

"Didn't you hear me?" The bandit who spoke says, stopping a few yards away from us as he reaches for the hilt of his sword.

The group has us surrounded, with this man, probably the leader of the bandits, standing in the center of the path ahead. There are two behind him, and three behind us on the path, with four more on each side.

Fourteen total, like Drake said. No archers or mages it looks like, so they're among the more amateur groups.

"He heard you," Drake says. "He was just letting me know about the law. Nate, I'm not a mercenary."

"Actually, you are," I say. "We registered you under our guild, which is Gold-Rank because of Daniel and Cassidy. That makes you a mercenary permitted to kill bandits who've threatened you, which they have."

"You really think the two of you could handle us?" The bandit leader asks. "I'll have you know that I have two at Tier II and one at Tier III."

"Oh, that's fine," I say. "Drake, be a little more careful with him. The rest will probably die pretty easily."

"Okay," Drake says, then lunges to the side.

His fist connects with the side of a bandit's head before the bandit can even react. That's thirteen living bandits here. Drake moves on to the next-nearest bandit immediately, his speed too high for them to keep up with. He manages to take out four before one gets the idea to come after the elders and me.

As soon as he's within range, I quickly slip behind him and slide one of my knives into his back, then spin and slice the wrist of the bandit who attempted to run me through with his sword. While their skin does prove a little tough, my own Strength stat combined with the sharpness of my knives makes this easy. They're only wearing some light leather, and their necks are exposed for the ones who have more.

How easily I'm able to get inside their guards or slip behind them shows me that they're not really trained. They probably brute-forced their way through weaker Dungeons, and none of them cast any spells, confirming that they're all warriors. The size of their party makes this all the more likely. Fourteen, when fifteen is the maximum size for a Dungeon Party.

I only kill five, the rest of them focusing on trying to take down Drake, but unfortunately for them, he's simply too tough. Even their 'strong' leader looks like he fell pretty fast. I didn't see that part of the fight while I worked on the ones who came after the elders and me, but he's on the ground, dead.

His death is probably why the rest of them decided to focus on Drake.

As Drake finishes the fight, I clean off my knife and return it to its sheath, and once Drake disposes of the last bandit, he returns to us.

"Dear child," one of the old women reaches towards his face. "They got you there."

He's got a slice on his cheek, probably the only injury visible on him.

"I'll be fine," Drake tells her. "It will heal in the next few minutes. One of them had a sharp knife, that's all."

"Let us treat it," the woman tells him.

I step up to Drake and look at the wound, grabbing his chin and tilting his head a little. The elders are behind me, so they won't see my face right now. After examining the wound, I release his head and look down, making sure the cowl is concealing my face again.

"The wound is shallow," I say. "If we stop for a few minutes for you to put a salve on it, it will have mostly healed by then. Drake's species heals quite fast and they aren't prone to infections."

Opening up my Inventory, I pull out a small, reddish-purple crystal sphere the size of a grape, then I drop it on the ground before stomping on it with my heel, crushing the crystal. Pulling my foot away, I check to make sure it's broken, and upon seeing that it is, I nod slightly.

"Let's resume our journey," I tell the elders. "Thank you for your concern towards Drake. It's appreciated."

We resume our journey, and after a few minutes, Drake taps me on the shoulder.

"What was that you broke back there?" He asks. "And why are we leaving the bodies just sitting there?"

"We're leaving them so that guards from Ivory Breeze can take care of them," I answer. "The crystal was an alert crystal. By breaking it, I sent an alert to the last guardstone it synced to. They're generally used by mercenaries who've killed bandits so that the guards can send someone out to deal with the remains."

"Oh," he says. "How do you sync them?"

"They just have to be within a certain range of it," I tell him. "Though it doesn't work if they're in an Inventory. I've taken them out at every town we've gone to so that they're always synced to the nearest one. They won't work on the eastern continent, though."

"Why not?" He asks.

"They're new," I answer. "They were invented around a decade ago. Right now, only settlements with guard barracks in this kingdom have them."

"In my day," one of the old men says. "We just looted the bodies and let the wolves have the meat. Now, though, the loot has to be collected by the guards so that they can see if any of it was reported stolen."

That causes him and the other old man to launch into a story about a time they went hunting when they were younger. I only listen a little bit as we walk, paying more attention to our surroundings. There shouldn't be bandits in this area, but I guess it's not as quiet as back in Silent Valley. Travel's a lot more common around here, and people go between towns in this area much more frequently than there.

Around the time that Drake's stomach starts to rumble, we exit the forest and are able to see the inn, off in the distance. It will probably take us another two hours to reach it at the pace we're walking, which will put us as arriving there around sunset.

"Thanks for entertaining old folks like us," one of the women says as our journey to the inn draws near to an end. "You two are good listeners. Your parents must be proud of the way you've turned out."

Drake starts to open his mouth, probably to say that he's an outcast where he's from. He probably considers that 'safe' to say, since it doesn't really reveal anything about where he's from. If he says that, though, he'll probably be asked a lot of questions regarding why he's an outcast.

"Drake's an orphan," I tell her. "An elder from his village raised him instead, and I agree that she'd likely be quite proud of him."

"What about you?" She asks.

"I ran away from home to become an adventurer," I say. "My father's pretending to be upset with me, but he's the one who commissioned the knife I used back there."

That earns some laughter from the elders.

"Well," one of the old men says. "We'll be glad to walk with you tomorrow, too. You're good company, even if you hide your face."

"I have a rather nasty scar I don't like people seeing," I state. "We'll join you tomorrow as well. You tell interesting stories."