The scenery rolled by at what felt like a snail’s pace, placid bovines slowly pulling the caravan forwards. At first, Edwin and Leodin were tensely on the lookout, expecting goblins to jump out from every tree and boulder. After a few hours of nothing, the boredom had dulled their excitement. With little else to do, Edwin had considered chatting with Leodin. Questions into the younger man’s past would only invite the same in return however, so Edwin curbed his curiosity. Instead, he started a conversation with the driver, Nerrel. That provided a few hours’ worth of diversion, as the tanned man regaled the two adventurers with stories from a life on the road. He was from Pel Andris and spent most of his time on the large trade routes, delivering all kinds of goods between the northern cities.

“So have you been attacked before?” Leodin asked curiously.

“Oh, aye. Plenty of times. A few groups of goblins, some direbeasts – even saw a direbear once, nasty creature I tell you. Turned half of a cart to splinters before we put enough arrows into it that it ran off.” Nerrel patted the bow that was lying next to him on the bench.

“Aren’t you worried? That sounds really dangerous.” Leodin said in surprise.

“It sounds worse than it is, though don’t tell the ladies when I repeat that story in the tavern. I’ve never seen one of us get killed, and only twice I’ve seen someone get hurt. We’re so high up and well-protected, most monsters can’t get to us quickly enough. Even the poor sod the bear attacked survived. Honestly, the only thing that scares me out here is bandits.”

“Bandits?” Edwin asked, alarmed. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s rare.” The driver answered in a hushed voice. “There’s supposed to be a band in the west, said to be living in the Clawed Woods. When they attack, they leave no one alive and take the wagon entirely. Nobody ever saw them and lived.”

“If nobody ever saw them and lived, how do you know it’s bandits?” Edwin asked, amused.

“Monsters wouldn’t take the carts or get rid of the corpses without leaving any trace, would they? What do you think it could be, hm?”

Edwin didn’t have an answer, so he remained silent. The conversation petered out and boredom returned.

The weather was good, the roads were clear and they made good time. The caravan stopped around noon to water and feed the teams, then continued on. By early evening, they reached the waystation that was their destination. Since being out after dark was dangerous, the main trade routes between the cities had walled settlements directly on the road that allowed for the caravans to spend the night in safety. There were only a few buildings, mostly stables and bunkhouses for the drivers, and along the inside of the wall was a wide road. The caravan entered and turned right along the palisade, circling the settlement halfway until the first cart stopped right next to the gate at the other side. The following carts pulled in close, then the drivers got off and started unhitching their oxen. The adventurers offered their help but were shooed off.

After the animals were taken care of, the drivers piled into the tavern. There was cheap ale and laughter, although it wasn’t as raucous as the city taverns Edwin and Walter had seen. The adventurers felt somewhat out of place there, so Bordan used the remaining daylight for some practice. Salissa had apparently gone straight to her room in the bunkhouse and didn’t join them, but the other three jogged back out of the waystation and into the forest. They didn’t go far, only deep enough to find a few sticks of the right size to be used as practice swords. They returned to the safety of the walls and crossed wooden blades for another hour, then called it a day as well. While the ale in the tavern was quite watered down, the food was decent and plentiful. Since the drivers only ate real meals in the morning and evening, those had to be nourishing enough to carry them through the day. The beds in the bunkhouse were nothing special and Edwin wasn’t overly fond of sleeping in a room with a dozen others, several of whom were snoring, but he slept fine regardless and by first light the next morning they were back on the road.

The following two days continued in much the same manner. On the evening of the second day they met a caravan going the other way at their waystation. They pulled in around the opposite side of the settlement while Edwin’s caravanners were still busy with their animals and shouted greetings and playful insults passed between the two groups. That night, the tavern was much livelier than the previous one.

On the third day, they finally arrived at the waystation where they would part ways. The caravan would continue following the trade route west while the adventurers would head south towards their destination near the Clawed Woods. They had asked, but none of the carts needed to go their way. That left them with walking, so in the morning they bid goodbye to the drivers and marched south. It was immediately obvious that they had left the trade route. The main road was well fortified and had spaces that allowed for carts to pass each other at regular intervals. The road they were on now was simply a path of compacted dirt winding through the trees. As they had lost the safety of the caravan, the group did their best to be more alert. Nobody really felt like talking, and when one or two half-hearted attempts at a conversation didn’t bear fruit, the party marched in silence, each ruminating on their own.

Edwin enjoyed being back on his feet. The cart had become uncomfortable after a while, and from the second day, he had taken to walking beside the caravan for part of the time. The relief put some extra pep in his step, which quickly forced Bordan to banish the large man from his position in the front to the very back of the group, swapping with the soldier. Now properly chastised and slowed down, Edwin spent his time looking around the forests that surrounded them. They weren’t the Clawed Woods, the border of which was another day or two south and west of them, but they needed to be on their guard regardless.

Bordan was in front, constantly scanning the forest for threats with Leodin right behind him. They had debated whether the marksman should have his crossbow at the ready but decided against it. It would only have made sense to carry it ready to fire, and having the weapon cocked for the entire day would have put a lot of unnecessary strain on the material. Behind the young man came the mage. The girl seemed to have lost most of her haughtiness and walked with a brooding quietness instead. Edwin had to admit that she was probably their best defense in case of an ambush or sudden attack, as she didn’t need to wear armor or carry weapons to unleash her magic, and even her uninspired flames would be enough to scare off an unsuspecting attacker – at least long enough for the other three to gather their wits. Edwin brought up the back, wearing his gambeson and carrying his shield. Aside from scanning his surroundings, which got very old very quickly, he spent some time swinging his mace to get used to the weight, but without a real target he didn’t accomplish much.

They passed through a small farming hamlet, really just one large farm consisting of several connected buildings, then reached the village on their map by late afternoon. Because the north was so dangerous, the barons had freely gifted land and encouraged settlement to make sure that no two places were more than day’s travel apart. Unless a traveler was beset by extreme weather, an accident or some other horrid misfortune, no one was forced to spend the night outside the safety of walls. In the two centuries since, that system had somewhat eroded, with some settlements failing or being abandoned and others being founded elsewhere, but in most places, this was still the case.

After a day of walking, the road-weary adventurers booked rooms in the small inn and headed to bed soon after dinner.

The next day brought more of the same, forests alternating with meadows, the path gently curving between the hills around them. Finally, in the early evening, they spotted a palisade through the trees: Henkerton, origin of their first request.