Chapter 4, Freedom's Price

"HUuuumogghhh," '[Oliver]' had been violently retching over the side of the ship for a good while now, liquidly gray vomit fell from his mouth over the railing. His nausea came in full force as we reached open waters, I had joined him on the starboard half of the vessel. There wasn't much that I could realistically do, but I made an effort to rub his back while he puked his guts out.

I have absolutely no fucking idea what he had spoken about with that old friend of his, the bored looks that '[Edward]' had been giving me while they spoke just put me on edge. There hadn't really been a single moment that I'd been able to relax as my paranoia just kept building since we had entered the city. The uneasiness hadn't abated with boarding the large medieval cargo ship, if anything the vast sea seemed to amplify the feeling.

Enormous sails unfurled as we left the harbor, almost a dozen giant sheets pulled the vessel forward as the impending storm approached behind us. The full force of the open ocean's waves crashed into the hull of our gallion the moment that we passed through the entrance channel.

The sense of deja vu had become impossible to ignore, everything in this place had just been a few degrees away from being a 1 to 1 copy of the olden days back home. Everything was just a tad off, made so much easier to notice when there was only the other sailors and the sea itself to keep track of.

Everything changed, with a sudden shift from small calm waves to 20 feet tall walls of water that repeatedly started to crash into the ship. The abrupt shift sent many of us to the floor, all of us slaves and free men too hit the deck as the vessel lurched to the right before being hit by the opposite side.

To say that it had been a bitch to land atop of my injured side would be to put it lightly, still recovering better than the others. Whatever crew that '[Oliver]' or '[Edward]' had managed to find passage with hadn't even slowed down though, a few of the younger boys grabbing a line to steady themselves.

Remaining soldiers bearing the crest of an antlered deer quickly rose to their feet to shout orders at the few slaves that still resided above deck. Using a broad shaft of their spears to shove the disoriented men and women below deck, silencing any protest at the evident threat of force.

My fellow 'personal' slave as she appeared to be glanced at me as before trying to assist her master back to his feet. Following her lead, I lifted '[Oliver]' up to his feet after slipping my able arm under one of his own. Rubbing at a bump that had formed on his forehead, '[Oliver]' muttering what I presumed to be a gratitude as he regained his footing.

'[Edward]' just shook off the young girl's grasp, swearing under his breath as he stood back up. Looking out at the next wave building to crash against the ship he grabbed onto the railing, leaving the girl to scramble a hold onto one of the ropes.

"Ugh," The younger merchant scoffed as he looked at the sea which had quickly devolved upon reaching open waters. Partly looking like a wet rat as a particularly bad wave managed to rise about the railing and splash us with a light spray of foamy white water. He grabbed the chain that was linked to the girl's collar. Dragging her along despite stumbling across wet floorboards upon bare feet, "[I'll see you below deck Oliver, come along now Charlotte. Let] us [part ways with this dreadful weather, not all] of us [have] a [taste for] it [like you Oliver. Don't stay too long friend]."

"Of [course," '[Oliver]' nodded off handedly, standing straighter than he ever had this entire evening. The words were clearly spit out through clenched teeth yet '[Edward]' continued to seem oblivious to his compatriot's stress, "[Second room from the captain's, correct?! We'll catch] up, I [have missed Indech's realm since coming] to [Brigid]."

'[Oliver]' had tried to speak with me after all had been said or done, though it had turned out the waves would be worse than I think he had thought. His stomach rebelling in a way that I was long familiar with, but a curse that I had blessedly outgrown as I got older.

Whatever he had wished to speak with me about would have to wait till later, likely until the storm passed.

Speaking of the storm, looking out at the damn thing. Dark clouds were obscuring the horizon, and while I wasn't exactly sure how late in the day it was. The dim fragments of light that pierced the heavens seemed to suggest that we we're getting quite close to the night proper again, on the verge of sinking beneath the waves. Basking the water over the west in a nice orange hue.

Any other day, shit would be cash money. Calmer waters would've made for a great fishing trip with the others, like the one we had taken last spring in the Tyrhenian.

Glancing back down at the older man groaning his heart's out, a wave of nostalgia swept over me at the sight. Salt and regret were stuck to my skin, seeping into the creases of my body while I kept a strong hold on '[Oliver]'s hunched over form. Half carrying him below deck once it was obvious that we we're going nowhere, I laid him to rest.

The merchant directed me to the room in particular that we had been lent, trying the best that I could to keep my head down while '[Oliver]' spoke with some of '[Edward]'s guards. Waving off his mercantile friend as he lay groaning on the room's sole bed, while receiving an understanding sounding apology. Whole ship was abuzz with activity, but it was all around us and beyond our room. Our little oasis gave me time to think, choosing to collapse against the far wall if '[Oliver]' still wished to speak with me.

Little details that I had filed away return. It wasn't something that I'd be able to so easily ignore, this place was too similar to how things we're back home. A warped or distorted image of how Europe's past could've been. Like seeing an ancient version of Rome at work, or a version set just a four hundred years ago if I were to be more accurate.

It was a world that just didn't make sense, less sense even if you accounted for how little I managed to grasp with my poor understanding of the local language. This place was a fucking mess, I was a god damn mess, but that was obvious to anyone with two eyes. Internally things might just have been so much worse, a wave of regret swept over me as I thought of the botched job I'd likely done to my own arm.

A pressure was periodically growing in my chest, a strange feeling that had been building since I had woken up. Not just beside my heart either, but the sensation thrummed alongside wherever my veins went, my fatigued existence almost mistook it for my heartbeat. This entire fucking week had proven to be a truly terrible time, it was closer to five days really, but who's counting at this point?

Not me.

I was so glad to finally be indoors again, even if sleep wasn't coming to me as easily as I would've preferred. All I needed was a cup of coffee or two, and I'd be right as rain again.

This state I was in, where I was too tired to move but not exhausted enough to let me truly rest. I was a special sort of hell, or a purgatory would be the better comparison. Keeping my eyes trained on the only door into the room, waiting for the slight change with my switchblade hidden further up my sleeve.

Most of my days on that accursed ship went like that, paranoid over any sailor or soldier that glanced over at me. Ready to spring at a moment's notice whenever '[Oliver]' and I had to part ways, on edge the entire time when the guard captain would order me around. Joining the few slaves like the girl who had been allowed topside to run errands, carrying heavier loads regardless of my injury. The sole upside was how temporary these occasions turned out to be each time they occurred.

Hard to say if the pain was worse than the strange sensation that had been growing the following week, if I wasn't looking over my shoulder. I was looking at my own skin, tracing the veins back to where they disappeared under my flesh. The feeling was near indescribable, though not in eldritch horror sort of way. That had been my worry when I had first felt it brush up against me, that some Cathlulu esk demon was going to molest me.

I couldn't hope to purely blame it all on Poseidon's domain, or of some lack of faith. Memories of the burning village, of the men that I had slaughtered in cold blood assaulted my mind when I was alone. At some points I had turned to scratching myself, replacing the alien fuzzy touch gliding across my body with the sting of my fingernails as I racked them across my skin. I was going insane, or at minimum a bit more unhinged.

After a point I threw caution to the wind, swallowing my disgust and tried desperately to focus on what had chosen to turn its eye on me. I wish that I was just becoming incredibly paranoid, for that would've just made my life easier even if it became more stressful.

Must've looked like a mad man for the short while that I went looking, several guards and sailors giving me the side when I peered over the railing for a moment too long. While I had been going crazy from the phantom sensation of non-existent bugs crawling all over me, having fresh salt splashed across my face was a godsend.

Skin electric, quite close to being set on fire as my body temperature rose to fight off the continuous ocean waves. I felt feverish, and more alive than I ever had been despite it all. The vermin weren't gone, no, something so much better than that. A shiver fell down my spine, near organismic from a pressure brush against my naked form, something that couldn't be mistaken for wind as it passed effortlessly through my clothing.

I was thus reduced to a babbling mess, and remained that way until the next wave shook me out of my stupor. Releasing a relieved sigh that no one had attempted to speak with me, glancing back at the rest of the ship and finding that people were by and large ignoring me. The only people that I had major concern over, that being '[Edward]' and '[Oliver]' were speaking with the ship's captain at the bow of the vessel.

The things nibbling at every inch of skin had been sated, the sheer amount of relief brought on by this was enough to postpone my curiosity. Instead I simply bathed in it, swaying with the waves that rhythmically crashed into the gallion.

If someone had shown me a picture of myself during those little escapes that I had taken. The way I looked like a wet dog paled in comparison in how much pain was lifted from my shoulders during those. A second, more subtle detail would've been how much of a clearer visage I had then of the other sailors on the ship with me.

Not quite glowing, but definitely brighter than everything else that surrounded me in that brief moment before it returned to normal.

Getting thoroughly soaked wasn't exactly my intention, stepping away from the edge to shake some of the water free from my hair. Taking my sweet time to rejoin my. . . 'master', I suppose that the title would be appropriate considering the circumstances. Walking around with such an archaic practice going on in front of me was a struggle, but given my current state. It was something I was willing to tolerate for the sake of making the process of going home as smooth as possible.

Usually my mood would've greatly soured at the thought, but I only grew irritated after having the sensation of ants washed off of me. Finally feeling like I belonged in my own skin. I could still feel it buzzing just abuzz the surface of my skin, a level of static electricity brushed along the hair of my body.

My body did its best to follow the tempo set by the ocean around us, eventually forming something that felt like a second heartbeat. Slower and more methodical, then the fleshy one that resided in my chest. Granting me a better view, as the sounds of all of the work going on around the huge ship became easier to make out.

"[Find what you were looking for]?"

"No," There wasn't a word for it, even as I searched for one at '[Oliver]'s side, and gave me a queer look while looking up at me. It was one of the few times that I was glad that I wasn't naturally all that much of a talker, most people tended to bother me with pointless conversation. Other than '[Oliver]' that is.

"[Shame," He waved for me to follow along behind as he leaned against the railing, peering out into the sea at the small fleet of ships heading toward the lands we had left. "[Well] do [keep] up,"

After a few days of navigating through an entire archipelago, the ship had changed course for what had felt like the final time. Heading north east away from the series of small interconnected islands, warships of various sizes passing us by. Easily identified by their flags holding up the image of a bird clutching arrows and wheat in each claw.

Brigs, gallions and sloops in fleets clearly carrying soldiers of whatever nation they hailed from. They reminded me of the old warships in the history books of the americas, great man o' wars with some of the earliest renditions of cannons. Though oddly enough, these seemed to carry no such firearms even if I could spot the troops that they were carrying had much more archaic forms of weaponry.

Honestly if I had a sestertius for every time there was something nearly identical to how it was five hundred years ago, I could probably pay off my tab by now.

Instead it merely served to confuse me further, for people to develop one without the other seemed counter productive. Then again, these very ships were headed toward the same archipelago that we were leaving, and the same islands going through the worst storm that I had ever seen.

Dark rain clouds had hung over us for several days before we managed to get away from the storm's grip. Can't catch a break, can I? Even the weather has to be strange, for such a vast storm it had almost seemed like it had been following us. . .

"I am [not such] a [frail old man yet Adolf," '[Oliver]' chastised me, chuckling as he took one of the many bags that I was carrying away from me. My eyes caught sight of the scale sticking out of the bag he had elected to take with him. I only managed to shake off the strange connection that I had felt coming off the metal as the old man spoke up while we traveled down the gangway, "[Baron will] be [happy] to [finally] be [able] to [stretch his legs] at [long last]."

Huffing more to myself than anyone else, I shook the bags that I was carrying back and forth to acquire a better grip. After taking a moment to readjust halfway across the bridge I turned in the direction in which '[Oliver]' had been pointing. Recognizing the names that he had dubbed our horse with as it idly kicked at the stone while one of the guards rubbed his chin where he'd been kicked, "He is."

Felt it was best to keep up the 'uh huh' tier answers, truly I am an exemplar of all communication's majors. Most I had met weren't as chatty as I had expected them to be, and more of the grammar policing sort.

"Ah, it is [good] to be [back] in [Stuttfurk and under the grace] of [the goddess] at [that," '[Oliver]' commented, stretching his limbs until I reached him on the pier when he joined me at the hip. Taking the lead to our wagon from one of the officer types as slaves continued to load the rest of his goods on a separate cart, "[Let Edward's, 'servants' take care] of [the rest for once. Come and enjoy the view with] me."

Patting the wooden plank that acted as the seat from those driving, I hopped up front after unloading the bags that I had been carrying. Taking the lead from the older man with a nod, the harness snapping tight as I swing down against '[Baron]'s harness. Looking at the city as we left the harbor, the crisp sounds of work took the forefront while seagulls cawed around us.

God, sometimes I could mistake it all for home. Except for the clacking hooves, and thuwacks of wooden wheels against stone.

"[Your first time stepping afoot Fodlian soil] my [boy]?" My nose was thankful to finally have something other to smell aside from fish or salt, un-scrunching after spending 13 days at sea. And a half, but nobody counts the half. The smell of fresh bread baking became hooked inside of my brain upon leaving the harbor, "[Nothing] is [quite like home, some] of [the empire's cities can] be [quite beautiful] in [their own right]."

"ERRRRRRIIIK!"

The sense of bliss that I was under shattered a few moments later, torn from thoughts of delightful lunch by a blood curdling scream.

An entire stage, set up to host the executions of over a dozen young men on their knees before a wallopping crowd. Reminiscent of olden days of witch hunts or other purges, probably closer to a mockery from the way a man held up the head of the first person to be beheaded. The ringleader. Given the honor of a relatively quick death compared to that of his compatriots. As the rest were left to hang and be choked to death by the ropes tied around their necks, each one squirming for dear life until their legs stopped moving.

Plenty of others had to be kept away from the platform, protestors of all sorts from those clearly of working class to a few bearing finer silks. More than one mother completely lost it at the sight of their children's resistance peter out until nothing was left. Any effort to push through the line of guard by the counter protestors merely ended with a whimper. Slowly dispersing and allowing the busy city street to finally return to normal after the whole ordeal.

Like there hadn't been anything to get worked up about in the first place. A handful of masked up and roped men took the bodies with them, truthfully I hadn't expected to see such strange priests with carved bird masks.

Amongst everything going on around them, they alone stood out as especially odd to me. Distinctly more tribe in appearance than the rest of the bustling city around us that we were passing through.

"[It's quite far for unruly slaves. Goddess, to do [this] to [your own people. . . It's excessive. Even] if [they happen] to be [draft dodgers," '[Oliver]' seemed to comment on the situation as we approached, ending with the name of their faction maybe. They didn't look unkempt enough to be bandits or criminal in origin, many of them could've been five years my junior. Considering how long '[Oliver]' went on about them with a distasteful look painted across his face, "[The worst] is [over, things will surely get better now that Brigid's new king has agreed] to [surrender. They'd] be [better off with vassalage, war would] be [farther off that way]."

This slaughter couldn't have possibly been the result of justice, it was senseless even if it had been done for the sake of vengeance.

I don't think the old man understood the true extent of my silence, how could he offer more than simply sympathy in the position that he was in? Whatever words of comfort that he had attempted to offer me went over my head, I would've likely ignored them even if I could understand what had been said.

"[Turn the other cheek] to [the Regime's brutality," '[Oliver]' patted me shoulder, briefly stopping my thoughts before they could start traveling down a much darker path. Glancing at a patrol of guards pushing into the small group of protestors that remained, shoving them to ground and arresting those that refused to give up. Pulling on the reins while I was distracted to move us away from the worsening scene. Spitting out a remark as we made our way out of trade and into the city's residential district, "[The sooner that] we [leave the better off we'll] be."

Something as dark this seemed like a regular sight in a place like this, though from '[Oliver]'s reaction that clearly hadn't always been the case. I think from his confused expression that he looked at me from the corner of his eyes, that he had expected a worse reaction from me.

Execution of a runaway slave? The concept wasn't unbelievable to me, much the same had been done in the older days of the republic. Simple cost assessment against risk, take out the humanity inherent within the whole ordeal and the math made it easy. Probably could chalk up the sheer lack of shit to give over such a barbaric scene to my exposure to the internet at a young age.

Watching a grown man blow out his own brains in uncensored 4K probably had an impact.

I mean no disrespect by having a relatively small reaction to bearing witness to such a disturbing event live. Plenty grisly, but I tend to react more when someone literally attempts to tear off one of my limbs with an axe.

Course I think that '[Oliver]' was overall better at handling it than I was, given that I was still mentally back there. Even an hour later when he had chosen to set up a stall to try and sell off the rest of the goods to some of the locals, my mind was stuck back there. Just going through the motion like I was back working in retail, hoping that I'd wake up from a fever induced hallucination.

"[Adolf. Adolf," Shaking my head free of mental cobwebs I swung over at '[Oliver]'s calling the name that he had resorted to referring to me by. I hadn't quite fully adjusted to the change yet, but it was a distinctly unique sound that generally tended to stand out against the noise. Proving to be a great help in the days to come whenever '[Oliver]' required my presence, "[Adolf! What] do [you think, which one should] I [put] on [display]? I [know] we [likely won't come across] a [mage] at [any rate but I've learned it's bett]-"

I flickered the silly light blue book with a snowflake etched onto its cover with the tip of my middle finger. My second heartbeat skipped as I tapped the leather bound book. Turning back to lug the crate the rest of the way, and stock the display for clothing that '[Oliver]' had put in place. Completing ignoring the other strange books that he was holding in his arms, three or four brightly colored things.

I don't care much for picture books, but if I really had to choose. Anything with snow is going to earn brownie points with me.

"That one. It," My grasp on the language was shite, whatever he was speaking didn't feel like it was using Quechua or Nahuatl as a base. While I had taken a bit of Greek, as it was the most common language at my high school. My score had barely counted as a passing grade. Falling back on a more casual tone that I usually reserved for my friend, "Fuck I don't know man, either one is acceptable. Does it really matter?"

'[Oliver]' had long since gotten accustomed to my blunt and quite dry nature, chuckling to himself at my chagrin. Just blowing him off as I stretched my neck until hearing several pops and cracks rang out. Fiddling with various articles of clothing as spare hangers hung off of my still recovering arm, releasing a hiss whenever the metal would press against the bandages.

Status

HP: 24/26

Debuffs: -9999999

I wasn't quite back up to one hundred percent, and likely wouldn't be until I got actual medical work done. Here's to hoping that insurance can take care of most of it, even if I was probably jinxing myself.

My ability to take care of myself had increased, though only marginally considering my lack of medical knowledge. Cpr was going to be of much use in my situation at this point. The true extent of the damage that I had sustained was difficult to ascertain, but my internal bleeding hadn't been too extensive. So I took it as a good sign. Only having to cut upon two sagging pouches that had formed from my own skin to dump the vile blackish liquid that had built up in those few short weeks. The wounds reeking of metal, and the disgusting scent of rotting flesh.

The story of how I came to be accustomed with such a thing, enough to recognize it was far more mundane. Let's just say that my meatloaf leaves much to be desired.

Spending the last of that strange liquid that I had stolen from the bandit had worked wonders. Taking advantage of a particularly slow day on the ship to submerge my injured hand in what was left of the odd potion.

Managed to return some color back back to my arm, just before having entire chunks of my forearm melt off. Having purplish and blackened parts of my limb slide off like bloody sludge, the false mud molting from my body added a fair few white hairs to my scalp. Focussing on keeping my condition under wraps, in fear being killed for carrying a disease or something.

That had been quite distressing to go through to say the least.

"[Adolf! Can you grab] my [bag with Baelish furs for] me?" [Oliver] shouted a request, raising a brown sack holding animal pelts for me to see an example of what he wanted. Flipping him a thumbs up as I pass him to search through the wagon for the identical bag that I had seen earlier. Ignoring the mixed looks that I received from the young couple that had approached to examine [Oliver]'s wares as I passed by.

Much of [Oliver]'s goods looked identical, though furs and skins stood out compared to the clothing that he had in stock. While having more vibrant colors they were 'dull' when my fingers would brush against such fabrics. The pelts hitting me with minor static shocks instead, getting lost inside of my own head meant that such a thing tended to catch me off guard. It was no wonder that I'd drop the sack only after lifting the damn sack half way up over my shoulder.

Bang! Bang! Clang! Bang! CLA-!

'Sonova bitch!'

"Gah," A bright light had gone off, blinding me for a moment after dropping the sack unto the wagon's floor. Something hard and metallic inside of the bag harshly rang out, part of it hitting my foot. Summoning a groan out of my lips at my own blatant fuck up. Swearing as I had nearly reached my wit's end after having a relatively mundane week until now, "Shit!"

A woman's figure had been burned onto my retina's, the odd vision blurring as I blinked rapidly to restore my sense of sight. The veritable flashbang that had gone off directly in my face had also gotten stuck in my eardrums. My inner ear popped back to normal as I flexed my jaw in just the right way. While [Baron]'s ears perked up as he swung his head over to me, side-eying the wagon from where he had been feasting on a bucket of oats. For a moment it had seemed like he had seen something that I hadn't, his ears falling flat before going back to his food.

"-[lright over there]?"

I caught the last half of [Oliver]'s concerned voice call out to me, patting the side of my head where I still felt a bit off. Responding to the older man's worried expression from the street with a sheepish grin while scratching the back of my head.

"Don't worry! I'm fine," Uttering a white lie as I released an annoyed tsk as mentally prepared myself for the static this time around. Waving him off with my free hand I bent down to grab the bag again as I had braced myself for any new incoming shocks. Searching for any words that might make sense to put the older man at ease I settled on two that I had grown accustomed to, "Go on!"

Glancing down at the mess that I had made, it had seemed that the main victims were a pair of scales. The first being [Oliver]'s that it seemed he had stuffed inside of this random bag for whatever reason. While the other was my own that I had taken out of my bag to make room for actual supplies. I came to the conclusion that they could wait, prioritizing going through with [Oliver]'s request before fixing all of this.

Could've sworn that I had seen the two near identical sets of scales trade a spark before I left. Likely just being that last fading figment of a sunspot on my eyes.

When I finally returned, neither of them could be found. My previous awkwardness borne from embarrassment was quickly replaced by one formed of pure dread. Searching with as much subtlety that I could muster, mentally retracing my steps as I looked through my own pack. A deep pit had formed at the bottom of my stomach as I came to realize that they had straight up disappeared the moment that I had looked away.

'Where the fuck did they go?! How do you lose a god damn scale, let alone two of them?! Fucking useless crippled dumbass.'

There wasn't much room in the wagon that anything could reasonably become lost in. Which made it worse when I couldn't immediately find what it was that I was searching for. Metal tools tend to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the leather, linens, and furs. All I could think about was the strange looking caltrop that had been engraved onto the side of my scale, keeping it in mind if I needed to identify them. Finding little in terms of weighing scales despite my efforts, making the thought sting that I'd have to differentiate between the two.

My mind could be quite scatterbrained at the worst of times, that was a well known fact of life. But the real kicker was how someone, anyone could ever lose track of something the size of a small television.

'How do you lose track of two objects that are practically the size of a microwave?! Small one, but the point still stands!'

A 'thump' reached my ears as I dropped to the floor, sitting down in the wagon with one of my legs up. Seething at not finding a damn thing at all, even finding just one would've been preferable. Then I could at make it seem that [Oliver] hadn't lost his own, even if mine was a gray steel while his was a brighter silver. The older man wasn't the most observant person in the world after all, it might've worked and probably wouldn't've considering my utterly trash luck.

'Ugh. . .'

The following few days were truly a special sort of hell, though I couldn't put all the blame on [Oliver] for it. Coming to develop a new sort of bubbling hatred for law enforcement, or for this nation's excessive state of martial law. Getting patted down or forced to wait outside every other official establishment was starting to lose its novelty.

Sarcasm fully intendedly.

It would've been beyond boring in any other situation, and I really preferred boredom over the prolonged paranoia. Just waiting for the guy with the keys to my chains to notice my fuckup. Realistically after the second day of worrying went by I came to realize that such an item wasn't something he'd likely be keeping track of.

My brain briefly went down the traitorous line of thought, wondering what else he wouldn't notice disappear right under his nose. Quickly smacking the kleptomaniac in me before landing myself in actual trouble, from what I could piece together. [Oliver] seemed to fit the description of 'good people', and intentionally fucking him over would've been bad for the soul.

It was a crass way of putting it, but it had been a sentiment my mother had oft' shared with me.

Things got sketchier the further we traveled together, going from coastal towns to other coastal settlements. Smaller and larger ones like the first port city we had visited. While I hadn't been taught to let my judgment of people assume the worst of them, the conclusions that my instincts reached ran counter.

Though I was grateful for the artificial sense of safety that being in a 'herd' afforded us. The dangers other people posed made me reluctant to follow [Oliver] each time he wanted to enter town. But the wilderness wasn't much better for us.

A single chance encounter with a black bear getting too close to ruining the level of comfort that I had grown accustomed to.

Wandering too close to our campsite one night, [Baron] had alerted us to the presence of the predator sneaking up on us. Barking at [Oliver] to stay back while I had pulled a burning branch from the campfire that he had been tending to. A piece of wood that had been fully charred black from all the time it had spent consumed by the flames. It hadn't been the best choice to make, a fucking bear appearing out of nowhere tends to send your preconceived notions of 'plans' out the window.

- 3 HP (21/26)

My arm stung from the heat of waving around a burning branch while my hand was literally screaming at me. Letting out a guttural scream that I think seemed to unnerve even the beast for continuing its approach. Far easier when the burning wood in my grip ate away at the flesh in my fingers. Only dropping it after the animal had turned back and started to leave. Pulling the tinder free once it had become partially fused to my skin, spitting forward a dozen of my most colorful slurs from both of my hands being in pain.

[Oliver]'s eyes had scanned my entire form, lingering when it had seemed that he had found something about me out of place. Stumbling to the wagon, my surroundings didn't seem to get any darker than if I had simply been sitting around our campfire.

All I had felt was a brief fuzziness, more focused on bringing both of my heartbeats back under control. Entranced by the white puffs that came out of my mouth, the detail acting as a reminder of my own mortality while my arm throbbed painfully. I hadn't felt any different aside from being in agony, dumping both of my hands inside a bucket of water we had lying around.

Obscured in the reflection of the water was a woman with bright blood red hair in a ponytail staring back at me. Something that went unnoticed whilst I tried to reassure [Oliver] that my injuries weren't as bad as they appeared to be.

The fresh dose of pain hampered my ability to think clearly, dumping my hands under the ice cold water brought me a level of relief that I would've killed for. Silently sending up a prayer as the once clear bucket darkened with chunks of my own blood. Closer to babbling really, but I would hope that my intent came across well enough.

Generally doing anything to tear my mind from intensifying the pain, a habit I followed in the days that followed. I did look pretty funny with bandages over both of my hands, you have to see the upside where there are so few of them.

Camping out in the cold in the days we spent traveling between settlements tended to be uncomfortable, yes, but staying in an inn or hostel just plain put me on edge. Having to step in between [Oliver] and a customer, when they got into an argument about the price of furs. Purely from quick glance, he appeared to be in a hunter's garb like his fellows beside him.

Noticeably more animated compared to his friends, though all of them appeared to be armed. The only good news being that their bows were by and large stowed behind their backs.

"[Get the fuck out] of [way slave," Standing firm the man tried to shove me away while I sought to get between the two of them. My intention being to create distance, treating this like how I would with any other unpleasant customer back home. "[Put] a [leash] on [your damn dog, you scamming ass old man]."

"Go," My tone was curt but firm on what I thought of him, his friends having already left our stall. Yelling at him from their place at stalls further along, more than a few giving me disgusted looks while they made their voices heard. Slapping away my bandaged arm that I was holding, I prevented the hiss that I was about from getting out by quite literally biting my tongue. Simply repeating what I had said before, "Go!"

"[I'm not leaving until your master gets] it [through his thick skull that fur from vermin ain't never gonna] be [better than what Adrestia has] to [offer," The irate man appeared to be just as undeterred as he was before I had arrived, but now directing his anger at me instead of [Oliver]. I wasn't sure what the older man was up to but I hoped he wasn't still here if the hunter chose to get violent, "Ya' [here]!"

Pushing back against the man as he tried to challenge me, I caught a hint of alcohol on his breath. The thought of a cold hard drink sent a traitorous shiver down my spine. A desire formed at the bottom of my gut to rid myself of stress with one of my last remaining cigarettes. Focussing I uttered the simplest word that would get the message across, "No."

At the sight of the town guard the disgruntled hunter turned back to join his friends, shooting a furious look my way that I raised a brow at. I think the gesture only served to piss him off further.

The next couple of days passed without incident, more or less that is. We ended up moving away from hugging the coast eastward to using a path that had been paved along a river that headed north. Still practically not having a single clue about where we were heading, that little epiphany kicked me to get involved. Eventually I had to look over the map that [Oliver] had been using to chart our course myself, becoming acquainted with the new nation that I had ended up in.

"[Curious]?" [Oliver] commented after finally being done with whatever errand he had been running while within the local bank. I had side eyed the man as we approached the building that had been hosting some sort of slave auction with plenty of bidders. Getting a response after gracing a finger along the river I suspected we were traveling beside, "[We're headed] to [the village] of [Meissen after this. From there] we [can follow the main road] to [Garrag Mach and enter Leicester]."

Grasping my hand he led my eyes upward as he explained, pointing at a city located in the mountains in the center of the north. Pointing rightward above where this rather limited map stopped depicted the continent's landscape. In return I took his hand over to the symbol that seemed to represent this nation's own capital, lying to the far east overlooking a large bay.

The map had a cool looking dragon with the head, tail and outstretched wings signifying the four depicting the cardinal directions. From there it was simple to figure out the jist of where we were, in a town just below the dead center of this country.

"Ahh," The merchant seemed hesitant to answer, hemming and hawing as his pupils grew in comprehension. It didn't sound good by any measure, but I tried to smile apologetically as he still bothered to explain despite whatever was troubling him about the location. The pitch of his voice took on a nervous inflection that I hadn't heard since traveling with [Edward, "[Well that would] be [Embarr, the pride and joy] of [Adrestia. Not unlike what Dublin] is [like for your people] I [imagine]."

My new goal quickly became reaching the large icon of a settlement held within a crown, it seemed like the most oblivious 'x marks the spot' that one could imagine. [Oliver] shattered any plans that I had cooking up, figuring that my mind was working if his pensive expression was anything to go by.

I needed to get myself a better poker face, stat.

"[You'd] be [better off] in [the Alliance than the Empire. Even you should know that] by [now," There was an aura of desperation in his voice, sitting closer to me he spoke in a low tone. Barely above a whisper as if afraid that there was someone listening in on us while we were on the outskirts of town. Pulling my closer he spoke in a rather grave tone that demanded my full attention, "[Wouldn't stop you] if [that] is [truly what you wish, nor will] I [keep you from this, but] if [you want] my [advice]?"

Nodding quickly, [Oliver] tried to impart advice that he hoped would reach me. Unbeknownst that try as he might to appeal to any sense of reasoning or logic residing within me. The language barrier meant that it largely went over my head, "[Leave this place with] me, or [you will die] as [nothing more than cattle]."

"I-"

1 Common Key

"[Here. The choice should] be [yours alone to make," He landed over a plain steel key, wrapping it up in my balled up fist that he folded with his own hands. Speaking in a rapid tone that attempted a light hearted one after being so tense, "[Remember. Free men don't oft' stay that way] in [the Empire, so [don't attract unnecessary attention] to [yourself]."

I was left stunned, on some level registering that I had been just handed the literal key to my own freedom. Yet not quite believing it as the reality sunk in. Before I knew it, there was a fucking book in my hands too.

I tried to refuse him before we parted ways, but he insisted. Taking advantage of my injury to force the book back into my arms, along with his map of this nation to add to the insult. Gifting me the book, the very same snowflake tome that I had once gotten sight of when we planned on selling things. I wasn't sure I'd be able to refuse even if I had a better grasp on the language. Stuck babbling out an awkward, "What?!"

1 Blizzard Tome

'God,' Shock was the only thing that I felt, unable to form fully thought out sentences let alone translate. All the while [Oliver] patted down perceived wrinkles in my cloak as I had been preparing to part ways with him, 'I hadn't even done anything to deserve this. More trouble than I was literally worth.'

"I [hope you find what you're looking for," My legs started to ache from the effort that it was taking to hold myself up. Brushing a couple messy hairs from my face [Oliver] smiled sadly at me, "Or [who. May the Goddess protect you]."

Chapter 4 Note:

Mostly focused on using this chapter to figure out how much Alcides should reflect myself as the author, while showing the development of a character that would make sense 'in universe'. So all in all Alcides is like 25% plot contrivance, 25% earth au bullshit, 25% revised normal speak and 25% actually 'literally' me energy.

I also intend to develop the 'real world', there's nothing super concrete yet aside from making clear that the AU aspects go both ways.

Unless I've mentioned it before in this version of my story. Should be pretty clear through context clues that the level at which Alcides is able to speak/understand Fodlan's native language is determined via the Charisma stat. That being half of the player's charisma. Normal speech is the POV's own native tongue, the Italics are foreign speech and the Brackets stand for speech that isn't comprehensible by the listener. Bold is for emphasis as it normally would be.

Choices (optional to participate in)

1. Where, when, and how do you think consumables should be utilized?

2. Outlook on having a fresh new start in stories, the whole isakai scenario thing? Is it overplayed, overrated?

3. Fucked up shit is gonna go down in Chapter 6, people who have already read the previous version of this story are in the know. I bring this up to bring you a once in a lifetime opportunity, a character fate rewrite. Be warned! I have many terrible things in store for multiple characters, and you are only getting this once. On top of cannon events. You can comment complex conditions under which this will activate(like saving it for later or something), but if enough people comment just the name with nothing else. I will monkey's paw the fuck out of it, like if I wrote something fucked up that happened to a character in a past chapter. There will be no recon. This is not comparable to Sothis's time reversals. (New!)

I plan on using any contributed information to design a secondary protagonist in the future. To introduce them as a sort of foil when compared to Alcides and make everything more compelling, yada yada. I don't plan to have that many 'opinion' choices running at the same time, at most they'll last for 3 chapters before I delete them.

Alcides, Lv [5, Experience: 64/146

HP: 26 (40%)

Mv: 3

Str: 10 (35%)

Lck: 8 (30%)

Mag: 16 (60%)

Def: 10 (35%)

Dex: 9 (40%)

Res: 16 (60%)

Spd: 12 (50%)

Cha: 4 (20%)

Class Growths:

0%

Personal Skill: Deserve to Die - Foes within three spaces take 1 extra point of damage.

Class Ability 1: 5 HP - 15 out of 20 required experience points. [Commoner Mastery required]

Class Ability 2: [Mastery required]

Class Ability 3: [Mastery required]

Ability 1: Knife Prowess, Lv 1 - Grants 5% to hit while using a Knife.

Ability 2:

Ability 3:

Ability 4:

Ability 5:

Learned Combat Arts: (jack shit)

Learned Abilities: (jack shit)

Learned Spells:

Proficiencies:

Deficiencies:

Budding Talent: (idk)

Inventory: Steel Knife, 1 Blizzard Tome, No Vulneraries, and a pair of Sacred Galewind Shoes.

Currency: 1055, One Brand and 55 Marks - 1 Small Bullion/Kilogram and 55 Gold Coins.