Jove let a yawn slip from his cracked lips as he continued to stare down the dirt road. He internally chastised himself for letting his guard slip, for even just a moment. The road was a treacherous place, after all. Its paths slithered and swerved with a serpent-like suggestion of soma. Many dangers laid in wait, simply waiting for a victim to spring their trap. Monsters of many kinds plagued the road. Some bore teeth and claws, and others wielded dirks and daggers. The road to Orario especially was packed with treachery.
In the last tavern he stopped by at, he overheard fellow spice traders talking about how the road had triple the murder and theft rate of any other in all of Tenkai. But that couldn't be right, could it? Rumors and hearsays never deterred him before, so why was he losing his nerves now? He had traveled many other roads that had the same risks. What could be so different about the road to Orario?
It was far too late to turn back now anyway. He had begun his travels from his village in the north three days ago. He, like many others before him, had left in the pursuit of profit. Jove turned to the back of his covered wagon to look at his goods. Tobacco, tarragon, ginger, thyme, rosemary, to name a few. The crates of cargo had may as well been filled with gold. Each time Jove looked behind him, it reminded him of his potential future profits. That was always enough to lessen the burden of fatigue. Though, at his age, tiredness came all too naturally.
There once was a time where Jove was a stronger man. There was a time he went willingly, upon his own accord. Now, it seemed as though he did it out of a sour, dutiful obligation. Ain't no rest for the wicked. Money didn't simply grow on trees. It came from the crammed pockets of sloth-filled men, whose breaths were pungent of wine and whose guts were bloated like a drowned pig's. Was that the reason Jove was traveling to Orario? Despite Orario's rather prestigious reputation for upholding a supposed moral code of a chivalrous nature, such a thing was built upon the evils of man and the whims of gods. Anyone who believed in things like honor and truth was a naive fool. If humanity was indeed benevolent and amiable, then the gods would have no interest in them. They were attracted to their sins that sprouted from their misdeeds. It was all just so entertaining—at least, that is what Jove figured.
Suddenly, Jove's horses neighed in agitation. Jove quickly steered his attention forward, back onto the road. It was eerily quiet. No songbirds sang to the woodland breeze. No rustling of leaves in the brushes down below—an implication of woodland procreation. There was nothing, and that seemed to be more terrifying to Jove if anything. He slowed his horses, his wrinkled hands pulling the reins slightly higher and towards himself. The bits holding the horses tugged at their mouths, forcing them to halt. Jove waited for a sign, a single noise. He felt an unnerving kind of loneliness, not the one of tranquility he had felt moments ago. He felt his breath seize as a nearby bush to his left rustled. His heart skipped a beat as he swallowed his gut back down his throat. His eyes darted around rapidly, trying to search for whoever or whatever could have made the noise. Jove's horses weren't fairing any better either. They stamped their hooves into the dirt in agitation; they shook their heads frantically.
Jove looked back at the crates stored so precariously in the back of the wagon. Was he willing to abandon his profits for his life? He could quickly huck them away to make his getaway far swiffer. He wasn't going to try to save these spices over his life—right?
"Aha! See, we weren't that far off from the main road."
"..."
"Oh come now, we haven't even been walking for that long."
"..."
"Oh. Well don't fret about the small details! We're here and that's all that matters."
Jove stared in awe at the two figures who emerged from the treeline. Who were they, where had they come from, were they a threat; too many questions. They continued to spring up inside of Jove's mind as the duo's figures became more vivid.
One looked to be a younger man with a slender physique. He had rather wavy and long-ish hair; white bangs framed around his pale face, while the rest of his hair was black. Loose strands of hair from his bangs hung over his right eye, covering it slightly. Though, Jove could make out a strip of gauze covering his eye. The man wore a black trench coat with its belt left untied. Beneath, he was adorned in a white dress shirt that had a crimson scarf tied over the shirt's collar—like a pseudo tie. Covering both items of clothing was a three-buttoned black vest. The sleeves of the trench coat he wore were rolled up, revealing layers of bandages that covered both his forearms in gauze. His legs were covered by a set of black dress pants, and his feet were fitted in dark brown dress shoes.
The other man was slightly taller, despite his slumped figure. His body was covered in a musty grey cloak that dangled just a few inches about the forest grass. Unlike his rather sharply dressed companion, this one's body was well concealed, showing very little of his clothing or limbs. A hood covered his head, and he kept his arms tucked inward. Though the lower parts of his body were less covered than his torso, showing his trouser's suspenders hanging loosely at his sides. His feet only had bandages to shield his soles from any fallen twigs or sharpened gravel. But what caught Jove's eye was the black mask placed so precariously upon the man's face. It appeared as though it was composed of multiple shards. It looked hollow as if each sharp was meticulously carved from the bones of some kind of beast. The eye slits were split into five sections to supposedly polarize sunlight. The mask had eleven slits trailing across the wearer's jawline that extended upwards to the nose. A small piece of fabric serving as a barrier between the lips. The slits provided ample space to breathe for the man.
The two men felt just so out of place to Jove. And rightfully so, they were. Neither looked as though they were suited for traveling. The younger man especially looked as though a fate of being brutally beaten and mugged was to surely await him. And the taller man's attire and posture—it looked as though he was deathly sick. These two men did not belong together, nor did they even belong in this forest. One looked more suited to be an entrepreneur, and the other looked as though he was on death's door.
"Oh! Hello there!" the younger man called out as he waved enthusiastically.
Jove internally questioned for a moment if the man was really calling out to him. Jove responded by staring at the man; his mouth hung slightly ajar.
"This is the road leading to Orario, isn't it?"
Jove nodded, his eyes still fixed on the two, unblinking.
"See? I know where we are. How it so deeply wounds me at your apparent lack of faith!" the younger man cried as he jutted his hands outward like a distressed damsel.
The masked man let out a heavy sigh as he shook his head in disapproval.
Soon after his little spiel, the younger man's eyes narrowed onto Jove's wagon. Jove swallowed hard once again, feeling his Adam's apple slick up and down his esophagus. These men were the antithesis of enigmas to Jove. Yet he didn't feel his life was at risk.
"Ah, I take it you're a spice trader then."
"Y—yes..." Jove stuttered out. His words felt coarse against his chapped lips. "How—how did you know?"
"The aroma of the contents of your wagon was a dead giveaway. Not to mention the fact that you're traveling to Orario yourself," the man stated factually, with a hint of poise underlying his tone.
"I suppose so..."
Jove and the man stared at each other, the latter curling his lips inwards to hum. Jove peered over the shoulder of the man and noticed that the other had seated himself upon the stump of a dead redwood tree.
"Mmmmmmm, aha!" the younger man yelled out, jolting Jove to refocus his attention onto him. "My brother and I happen to be traveling to Orario ourselves. Would it be too much to ask if you were to lend us a ride?"
"Um—"
"In exchange, we can offer you protection on the road there. After all, this road can be quite... dangerous."
His tone shifted from fluffy, energetic, and almost child-like to cold and sharp. The friendly smile spouted on his face betrayed all the words he spoke. His scarlet eyes flared fiercely in anticipation as they stared into Jove's dulled grey eyes. The air around the man was marked with an unnatural sense of authority. It was almost as if Jove was in the presence of a king, or daresay, a god. Every fiber of his being couldn't muster the strength to refuse.
"I suppose I wouldn't mind," Jove said hurriedly, quietly.
"Excellent!" the man said, snapping back to his previous bubbly voice. He began walking towards Jove seemingly with a spring in his step.
"Then let us shake hands as compatriots to one another in the establishment of this contract!"
Stopping a few feet from Jove, he thrust his hand forward in a gesture of goodwill and trust. Behind the two, the masked man facepalmed at his brother's antics. Still feeling hesitant and frankly of the daunting prospect of letting two strangers ride with him. Once again, Jove looked back at the crates stored so precariously in the back of the wagon. He couldn't abandon his wagon now. He couldn't quickly whip the reins of his horses to make any sort of getaway. The moment he parted his lips and uttered in agreement to the man's words was his fate sealed. For now, their paths were irreversibly interwoven. Conceding to the man's wishes, Jove reached out and shook his hand.
"Jove," he said quietly yet firmly.
"Jove? Ah yes, yes you are," the man said with a quiet titter.
"Abel. And that sulking pariah over there is Seth." Seth looked up and nodded to Jove.
When the two men shook hands, Jove noted how Abel's hands were smooth and soft, with no scars or calluses tainting his skin. He also noticed how cold his touch was. It was so unnaturally frigid.
"Now then," Abel began as he loosened his grip. "Shall we head off to the City of Adventure?"