“Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.”

- Kurt Vonnegut

A road, finally! Alyssa stood gasping, hands on her knees slightly bowed, catching her breath.

Mireille looked amused. “You should have run around the training field with sergeant Dornwright breathing down your neck. Then you would not be tired from this little exertion.” When Alyssa was not looking she breathed deeply, also exhausted from that last climb over a rocky hillside. Going cross-country was something she never wanted to do again. It had been a snap decision to go for the foothills, as the gate was towards the dwarves and then the deeper mountains, and she was too afraid of possible pursuers to venture back towards the road.

But without some supplies, they would have problems traveling farther and the small village on a small flat hill near the stream was perfect in her opinion. Large enough to be useful and small enough that it was possible they had not heard of them.

She was a bit proud of herself for how well she had withstood the rigors of travel. Perhaps the sergeant had had the right of it after all. Thanking him in her heart she went over to Alyssa.

“Alyssa, here, take a drink. I have some springwater left.”

“Thank you!” Gulping down a large mouthful of water she smiled gratefully. “It looks like this is the main road towards Windkeep Castle. Then a little bit farther along should be the bridge and before that the intersection towards the fishing village.”

Mireille nodded, “I think that's most likely correct.”

“We can replenish our water there too. Perhaps we should do so before reaching the village, if they are unfriendly it could be good to have some fresh water at least.”

Cyrus, the wyvern, flapped his wings and tried for a fierce roar, sounding more like a shriek, scattering a few birds, looking nevertheless satisfied with himself he then settled down.

“It's no good trying to fly a day after hatching you know? Even I know that.” Alyssa admonished.

Cyrus rubbed his head on her cheek.

“Yes, you are a good wyvern.”

“Alyssa! He does not let me pet him.”

“He does not try to sting you anymore, he simply wants to bite you. That's progress.”

Bickering and in a good mood having left the mountains, the two reached the village in the early afternoon. Some boats were lying on the banks of the river. A palisade of roughly cleansed poles surrounded and protected the small settlement.

Nearing the open gate a bored guard called to them. “Hello, strangers, what brings you to Swiftbrook?” Then he did a double-take. “What's that on your shoulder!”

“That's Cyrus, my familiar. I am an apprentice mage. We need supplies. Had a bad run-in with raiders.” Alyssa answered.

“Raider you say? When and where was that!?” Hearing that the man no longer looked bored.

“It was near Sorringen.”

“Mh, that's a lot farther south than we usually see. Go in, I will accompany you, you have to tell the elder. Might be a bit of lunch in it for you." He eyed Cyrus a bit nervously. "Is the little beast really tame?”

“I will come with you, and yes, Cyrus is quite docile, even if he does not look it. Is it ok if we split? I can answer your questions and Mireille here will start to buy what we need.”

“If you insist it makes no difference to me. Come then.”

“It's best we be swiftly on our way. Your coat might arouse suspicion even if they have not heard of us.” Alyssa softly said to Mireille.

“Good thinking, I had forgotten about that.”

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “One of these days you will take something seriously.” Then waving towards her friend she went to the villager.

He was a big, bearded man with a receding hairline and a potbelly. Wearing thick leather clothes that might be some protection in a fight, he wielded a long spear with a well-cared-for blade. It was probably meant for fighting boars rather than men. There were some muscles under the fat and he moved easily, so perhaps was more suited as a guard as it seemed.

“The names Miles.” He nodded in a friendly greeting. “The elder is Mr. Longstone, once of Firswending. His father founded the village.”

While he was telling this to Alyssa they moved through the village towards a bigger longhouse located centrally with two side buildings, the latter probably where the elder and family lived and the former where gatherings could be held.

The ground was stamped earth and chickens ran around between small hovels. Some deerskin was left to dry on racks before the home of a hunter, featuring horns of different beasts displayed over the entrance. Some villagers on various errands stopped and began to talk pointing mostly at Cyrus but also commenting on Alyssas unusual hair- and eye color.

Her mother had been well-regarded and known to most, and this then extended to her, so she never questioned her differences and was quite unused to hearing them discussed. She colored slightly. Cyrus picked up on her embarrassment and opened his wings a bit and arched his neck trying to look menacing. This elicited another bout of discussion.

They entered the longhouse and the sudden darkness after the bright sun outside left her disoriented. An aged voice, sounding slightly hoarse, called out to them.

“Miles! What did you drag into my chambers? Is Marta no longer enough for you?” The speaker laughed at his own joke which faded to a hacking cough. “Ah, damn rain. It's always worse after the rain. Come in you two, I don’t bite.”

The two ventured deeper inside, rough-hewn logs made two benches with a table in between the wood polished through longtime use. Behind an open firepit placed underneath a hole in the ceiling, stood a separate table with some chairs.

An old man with a full beard and bald head sat there wearing embroidered, somewhat threadbare clothing while smoking a pipe.

“Greetings traveler. If Miles brought you here it seems you carry news most likely unwanted. The good ones are always much less urgent.” The last was said with a sigh.

“I mentioned our run-in with raiders near Sorringen. We very nearly did not make it. And that alarmed your guard which led to my being here.” Alyssa summarised.

“Stop! A bit before the part where you got here. What exactly happened in Sorringen, is it still standing?”

She explained the nighttime raid in as much detail as she could remember. Telling them that she had not planned to stay and had seen the undead leave before she herself had left. The old man was shrewd and seemed to guess at some inconsistencies but left her alone after exhausting her with questions for the better part of an hour.

Mr. Longstone was also interested in her wyvern and letting him feed the voracious little beast was very helpful in sparing her dwindling funds.

And finally, she got to eat some leftover lunch.

Meanwhile, Mireille was haggling with the only merchant, more like a fisherman with a hobby, and finally getting somewhere.

“So, that is a backpack, travel rations, some lamp oil, a rope…” She tallied the items while pointing at each. “...mh, that should be it. What do I owe you?”

“Seven silver, eight copper, miss.” The old fisher grinned with blackened teeth, one eye lost to an old wound, hair grey and mostly missing. “And it's a bargain if ever there was one!”

“For you perhaps! How about four silver…” Haggling began.

After leaving the smelly hut in the possession of used but usable goods she sat down and stretched her legs while waiting for Alyssa and letting the sunlight warm her.

“You are a Signed arent you?” A rough voice ripped her from her pleasant reverie.

“What the hell are you doing here alone and your uniform in such a state?”

Mireille oriented herself and found herself staring at an aging man in his later years. He had brown hair flecked with grey and was missing his left arm up to the elbow having fitted a long hook there. His eyes, looking at her harshly, were dark. The clothing was that of a villager, save perhaps for the long knife, nearly a short-sword hanging at his belt.

“I was separated from my fellow soldiers in a raid. Now I am going for the next stop I know they will make, Windkeep.”

“A likely story, why not go back to where you left them." Answering his own question he spoke further: "Because you don’t want to, am I right. Deserter.”

“Old man spare the theatrics, what do you really want?”

“Did you leave your comrades to their fate?”

“No, believe what you will, but I think what I, what we did saved a lot of soldiers and civilians alike.”

The old soldier and that seemed to be who he was looked at her closely.

“You seem to believe what you are spouting, but why did you not stay if you are such a hero.”

“A priestess of Ielenia took offense at our methods, to be completely honest, and we did not want to stay and be burned at the stake.”

“Now that is an interesting remark to make. How do you know that I won't be calling the whole village to punish your heresy?”

“My dad always said, that Ielenia and Irkonos don’t often see eye to eye.” She nodded towards a small pendant hanging from his neck depicting a tree with a large eye in the crown.

“Ha. That's something at least. Say is old sergeant Dornwright still with the army?”

“Yes, he was the one that trained me.”

“Ok. I will keep it to myself but you should realize that your coat is a dead giveaway. As warm and practical as it is you will be found and you will then be handed over to the mind-twisters. And a lifetime in the penal squad it is. So I recommend you do away with it the first chance you get. Old Gus should have a cloak or two, you can perhaps trade in the coat.”

Mireille blinked in surprise. “Thanks, I will do that.”

“I hope I am not wrong about you, but go in peace.”

Alyssa came out of the longhouse with a bit of bread in hand together with a hunk of cheese.

The old man nodded then turned to go. Alyssa looked at Mireille questioningly.

Mireille coughed. “He only wanted to give me some advice. Nice village isn't it?”

“Mh. It certainly looked that way.” She eyed Mireille critically. “Do you have all we need?”

“Most assuredly, there is only a small detail which I will take care of now.”

“Then please, make haste, I did not want to stop here.”

And so the coat was exchanged to a rawhide cloak, at least properly sewn.

“Mireille, stop your grumbling, the nice old man was right. Your coat was very distinctive.”

“I know, and it was warm and comfy and I looked good in it!”

They left the village and walked towards the bridge.

The great Erbor bridge named for the mountain range spanned nearly fifty yards of a gorge with a rapidly flowing stream at the bottom. It was a work of great architecture, it was also an old elven remnant and a useful one at that.

The road was ancient too, but much less well preserved, because at some point in the past someone had taken a hammer to the road-markers proclaiming elvish sovereignty standing to the sides of said road.

They never realized until it was too late, that those stones channeled protective magics, and it was only a matter of time after their destruction before the road was more or less a fading memory, not having stood up to the harsh climate bordering the mountains.

The bridge had thankfully survived the iconoclasts and stood the test of time, protected by the old runes. Stern elven faces looked over the waters toward the forest to the distant horizon, once their empire had owned what they surveyed.

“Gloomy-looking fellas,” said Mireille. “No offense to you Asandria.” She grinned. Asandria shook her head helplessly.

“They probably wanted to appear dignified. No use making something that lets you look bad,” Alyssa mused.

‘They look dignified.’ Asandria looked a bit conflicted. ‘But yes, they were dour in image as in life. That one was Periellin the Grace of Swords fighting was like an art form for him, he never strove to just win. That one over there was Nyarvellien the Questioner, no one could ever satisfy the deep curiosity he held and he never got the answer to all the questions that he had. He wrote a book of questions with the most important ones. I think there might have been even more than one. And the last face depicts actually a woman, Ilvenial the Fateweaver, a very respected diviner, her advice lifted an impoverished noble to be emperor, and brought low a mighty people, the snake folk of the south.

They were born near here in Olarrin City farther east into the mountains and so were chosen to represent this choice piece of land.’

Cyrus held his head into the wind, flapping his wings his talons tightening. Thankfully his claws were not yet developed enough to pierce her cloak. She would have to get a leather shawl or something.

The majestic mountains to the right, the dense forest to the left, they made good time on this well-used stretch of road, and when evening came, they had left bridge and village far behind them. In the fading light, they could make out the silhouette of a broken tower on one of the higher rocky hills. Some snakelike flying beasts flew in a small group around that tower. It was hard to gauge their size from afar but they seemed at least comparable to a donkey.

They made camp in a small depression some small distance from the road towards the mountains.

Sitting around the small fire they allowed themselves Mireille sighed. “I miss my friends.” After thinking a bit she continued: “but I would have missed them either way. Save for Alan, and he was always with his fellow male soldiers. They were farther and farther away in Starnborough Citadel- That was the name! Perhaps if I had had more time I could have befriended Clarissa.”

“I hope you won't get lonely accompanying me.” Alyssa looked part joking, part worried.

“Nah. With your prettiness, a ghost, and a wyvern baby we are a regular old zoo. There won't be any loneliness, never!” Mireille joked and gave Alyssa a one-armed hug, making Cyrus snap at her. “Did you see those flying snakes? Always something strange the farther you get from the city.”

Alyssa thought for a bit then said: “Most likely they are chrysopelae. They possess some wind magics and are said to be quite poisonous. If they bite you, your blood turns to air and that is something said to be very painful if not fatal. Their blood can cure consumption.” Mireille looked at her as if she was a bit mad. “What? I simply read a few books on the subject, they are a part of the fauna here.”

“The what?”

“The beasts of the region.”

Mireille giggled “I know. I wanted to make you mad. You sometimes speak like my grandma.”

“Stop being such a joker.” Alyssa smiled a bit.

“That's impossible, what would be left!? No one would want the rest.”

“Hush, did you hear something?” Cyrus lifted his small head tasting the air with his tongue. Asandria floated a bit higher looking around.

‘There are some people coming down the road. I would douse or cover the flame. They seem to be in a hurry!’

“Quick, the fire.” Alyssa began to gather some earth putting it on the small flames, causing them to extinguish while still smoking a bit. Mireille after realizing her intent began to help.

‘They have stopped at the road’ Asandria called down to her, the voice a whisper on the wind.

“Get ready to depart or defend yourself.” Alyssa crouched beside Mireille.

They gathered their belongings.

Then there was the rushing of the wind through the trees on the other side of the road, the call of a nightbird. Then a crack and clatter as a rock came loose under a careless foot.

A loud voice accompanied by a bright glow of white light sounded.

“Ielenia be with us today. Punish the sinner!”