It was long expected that Wilmshire having become somewhat of a major trading point, would begin to creep closer towards the decrepit castle and two rivers which split the town from the harsh land around it.

When tourists had first begun to stop by the townies had met them with a sense of relief, because the coins in their pockets and the goods they came to trade would relieve many of the town’s poorest residents of their most frequent troubles. But that was no longer the case…

The town was now rich and quite peculiar, and the people who bartered, lived and died in the young town had grown incredibly superstitious, ever since the giants had moved closer from the west, or strange beasts were spotted across the river. The locals believed it to be a sign, and it was now common to see a rabbit’s foot on their doorways, because their small haven had begun its descent and they were well aware of it. Every day the eldest residents tittered at the growing market place, knowing that this cluster of life would surely attract the wrath of the gods. And if that were not enough of a reason to leave Wilmshire, there was also the problem of new questionable residents taking up place in the town (even an old witch on the towns edge), but despite the rising crime being a more tangible threat it was still the threat of extinction which drove so many of the town’s residents towards madness.

For a mercenary like Odis the growth and reliability of Wilmshire was not a deterrent. It made the town a great prospect for employment, trade and reset. The thought as well of sleeping in a safe cabin for the night with warm breakfast in the morning had forced him to mark the town as an important pause in his travels, he was weary after all. There were farms on the outskirts of the town but the road became pointedly busier once the iron gated village entrance was within site; it was lifted of course like a wide mouth, swallowing the hordes of sheep, wagons and foot walkers who entered. Odis entertained the thought that the town should have a large stomach, as barely a couple walked away from the iron teeth.

“There is a wagon fee,” A few swindlers said past the town gate. “Its five bronze per wagon load or else you’ll need to leave.” An old man drew a nearly empty bad from his pocket slowly emptying out three coins and counting them each. He seemed to panic and dug through the pockets of his robe. The swindlers had already begun to ruffle through his merchandise, with one on top of the goods trying to open a large crate.

“There is no tax for footmen then?”

Odis interjected, even shorter than the men present, he knew that they second guessed themselves at the site of him but he did not relish the idea of a dirty dagger in his stomach. “Should I ask the guards? I am sure there must be a fee.”

The swindler smiled, “There is only a fee for wagons and carts.”

“But so many wagons have passed us already, surely I should call some of them back or call the guards to assist in ordering them.”

“Its not necessary, you can both be on your way.”

“W-wait the fee, I am terribly sorry but I am afraid I lack the bronze, perhaps if I could borrow a few…”

“It’s alright just move on, enough wagons have passed, get down Cindi.”

The thieves moved on to another wagon, this time aiming for flamboyance over vulnerability.

Odis was a good magnet for trouble; and it was partly driven by his desire to protect the underdogs of the world, although he made a new mental note to curb that behavior as most times it ended with tragedy, conflict or injury. He would remain in a neutral state, doing what he needed to do and little more. Unless it was a gorgeous woman asking. In truth he came across very few and spoke to fewer interesting people. He had no close friends, unless you would include the people who depended on him during the winters or perilous times.

The most reliable of these contracts, were the ones to the North. Where the towns were dense, rich, and built on tall mountains, the peak consisting of a castle or monastery, then much further down a thick wall which reached back to the top would lie protecting all from the mountain below. It was a beautiful region; but it was heavily controlled. He had only stayed there temporarily with a workers permit, then he had left. ‘This really is the only place one can live in peace.’ The lady of the house had said to him before he left. And he simply bowed his head knowing that she would never rationalize that people like him had no peace or choice in any world. At that time, he had been much younger, little more than a sprout and it was through shared connections with old family friends that such jobs were acquired.

However, those bridges had eroded and been taken by the wind.

In the years between the world had grown harsher and he had come to accept fate. One day on the roads he may meet something which he could never match; and that the thing would kill him and he would be gone. Perhaps there was a world afterwards, but he doubted it, he rather thought that his world would fade to black and so to would the rest of humanity. Walls would crumble, and the words would spill from novels with pages turned heavy by the rain. And there would not be a remnant of the lives they had all lived.

In a town like the one he now strolled. He wandered what each passerby would think; and what they would want to leave behind, if they could only have one mark on the world. He had a sword, which he could drop from his hand and leave by the wilting greens, but it was not a legacy. And he new that it did not feed his soul or give him a happy death to fight the world like he did.

No one was attentive as he walked by or if they noticed his quiet contemplation, then they only continued one their day with their baskets in hand. He stopped at The Tiny Archer, a quant inn on the river bank road; he spoke with the innkeeper who leant him the room above, for a few of his bronze coins, and led him there where she bid him a smile. Now he was alone, with the wooden walls and the sound of light rain, the only window was full of mist, and a fireplace rose timidly in front of the double bed. It was warm and cozy and he could not help himself from climbing under the three blankets and fell asleep. It was the warmest night he had seen for a long long while.

“A quiet mercenary, not much for complaints I sense and a good payer for once.” The innkeeper told men at the bar. But they merely sniggered to each other: looking from her to his friends a tall and gangly old man cleared his throat, “Not a word,” the apron wearing matron declared, he is to have a comfortable breakfast without any of your nonsense.” Odis only heard this part of the conversation as he entered the room.

“You staying for long.”' asked Old Noah Aberdeen. “There isn’t much mercenary work around here for you to stay a long time. But. If y’er interested in an honest job, my sheep could be watched by another, I wouldn’t mind it. Some rest. It beats me though, why so many people flock to our little town, it can only bring doom with it.”

“Perhaps we are all doomed. So why not live-in comfort here for a while.” A bearded man chimed in.

 The man perked up. “We are not all doomed… My granddaughter is pregnant, when was the last time you saw that? A young person with child? I thought that the days of family were over but I am happy to hear it. It has been a long time since I saw a pregnant lady. To me it seems children these days just appear in the lands between. It is a good change.”

“Oooo my that is a peculiar sight, and? Who is the father?”

“That doesn’t matter.” His face went red. “What matters is that this town, has begun to feel a lot like the old world. It gives me hope, that maybe we are not all doomed.”

“These damn foreigners need to stop swamping the town then!” another man demanded. “We finally have the flame of hope again and these damn invaders, arriving like ants, they will bring an end to it all with them.”

“I am sure us foreigners only intend to find hope.” Odis added. “And then we will move on, I would like another night here as well may I book the same room?”

“Yes of course,” The lady buzzed. “I’m glad you asked now any later and we would have given it to the next weary traveler.”

“Thank you, the butternut is lovely.” He said although he had only just begun to slowly eat the soup and bread they offered for breakfast. He would take his time with it before the day began. Afterwards he took a walk, to the town help board.

He found a few guarding errands, protecting a jewelry peddler in the main market area. Where she did not sell a single piece by midday and dismissed him and then he was asked to assist a toy maker, but to absolutely not ascend the stairs to the top of the converted house. His moppets were a surprising hit with adults and children alike.

By the afternoon. He had heavy pockets and began to walk back to the inn; but stopped by the river, looking at the people who lay on the descending hill. Some fooled around with homemade toy boats or dipped their toes in the river. He understood for the first time, what they had meant at the breakfast bar, when they had discussed memories of an old world. It tempted him to look for available land and pricing and watered a seed which he never believed could live. But reality returned when he saw how many people gathered at the land sale board and how much they paid for the smallest pieces sectioned off by profit seeking farmers. This town could become something great. But it was not a town for him; he would continue to move, until he was drowned by the weight and depth of his choices.

“Another wanderer, here to squat.” A man commented as he passed the stairs leading to the stone river wall. He had heard darker and more brutal insults, so of course; he only continued walking, but he was surprised when the man brazenly pulled him back. “Well, nothing to say?” said a scraggly man. “You need to get out of this town before the gods take us all. How many coins do you need in those pockets; before you will be sated enough to leave. All of you, are like damned dogs, begging for scraps but how long will it take for you to bite someone? But then again why bite, when you can bleed us dry and just move on to the next town. And then it’s us who are left here to die,” a crowd had gathered around them, and it emboldened him further, he raised his voice, “Leave you damn foreigners, leave this town in peace.” He walked forward and shoved his chest but Odis did not budge, he threw a punch and Odis ducked away then twisted his arm behind his back, the man howled and fell forward. Surprised Odis let go of him but he lay huddled on the floor holding the arm loudly crying.

“I didn’t grab you that badly.” He said flexing his hand before lending it out and trying to held the man, but he jumped up flinching away into the crowd.

“See how quickly they bite you!”

“I’ve heard that the crime rate has increased.” Someone in the crowd whispered.

“Should we call the guards?”

“Yes, go call them.”

“Wait for the guards to get here the both of ye.” A man from the crowd shouted.

And so, they waited, Odis looking at the river, the man cradling his arm and the crowd gathered for some afternoon tea, although not literally.

“And I heard that they both did it…” the gossip went on until the guards arrived the man ran to them falling to his knees but they only shook their heads.

“You and your damn rhetoric, trying to cause more anger? Wasn’t the last witch hunt enough, just leave foreigner and you too. Keep your distance from one and other.”

It was quickly over and the crowd (disappointedly) dispersed.

“I can see it.” One woman stood in the crowd, she was blind and a hunchback with a cane in hand. She looked towards the still seated Odis, “I can see you,” she pointed to him. “I can see your golden skin, I can see your burning bones, I can see your heart torn by a dagger of ice.” He stood and gazed towards her, but she only murmured and began to walk away. He took a step to follow her: but his body shook with a violent shiver, a sixth sense, he turned his heel and continued towards the inn, but another strange woman approached him. She wore a cloak, but her ginger hair still framed her slender face. When she lifted her head, she revealed a face with eyes of icy blue and fair skin covered in freckles. “Excuse me, I saw the commotion and you seem able to defend yourself quite well. Your well-armed too.” Her eyes wandered to each weapon or leather strap. “Do you work as a bodyguard?”

“A bit but it’s mostly mercenary work.”

“They aren’t independent though, a bodyguard and a mercenary they go hand in hand, do they not?”

“They do, but I have fees.”

“I can pay them.”

“I did not give you a price.”

“Any price. Name it.”

“5 gold.” It was much higher than he would ever charge but he smirked even while scolding himself for teasing the girl.

“I’ll pay it.”

“Excuse me? You don’t have that kind of money,”

“I do.” Her eyes pleaded and he wandered if she had been blackmailed to lure him somewhere, or if she was just blindly desperate.

“Don’t lie to yourself, I have my own business to attend to.”

“I do as well, in the North, I can pay you halfway.”

“Five gold bars?”

“Yes, yes, can we leave now? There are a few things which I must fetch, first, then,”

“Stop I am not doing this. What nonsense, I have no idea what drives you to such a thought or action but you’re a young girl what are you 17? A child. And this is not a rich man the best merchant probably has a few silvers. Go on your way and I will go on mine.”

“I’m eighteen and please, please, I beg you I need to go north and I do not trust the guard you’re the only mercenary who looks… trustworthy.”

“What is your name?”

“Dayna.”

“Dayna, find someone else.”

He walked away from her back to his warm bed and warmer fire.