Garron slung an arm around Riley’s shoulders and pulled her in with a warm squeeze. “Quite a way to start our trip, isn’t it, my dear? There’s never a dull day in the Lastlands.”

  Riley shook gently in his hold. “Yeah, well… I hope it’s less eventful from here on out. My nerves are a wreck.”

  “Come. Let’s have a look at the spoils,” Garron said, motioning toward the brush where the ambushers had burst out moments before.

  Riley and Thorne followed him through the trampled foliage. Just beyond it, three horses stood waiting, reins tangled, saddlebags still strapped to their sides.

  “The brush isn’t thick enough to hide mounted men,” Garron said as he knelt beside the first horse. “That’s why they came on foot. I’d have spotted them otherwise. But they didn’t expect the two of you ruining their surprise.” He shot Riley a grin. “Quick thinking, lass. I’m glad you were there, or I’d have been caught off guard.”

  Riley felt pride warm her chest. She’d surprised herself. For a moment back there, she’d been sure fear would freeze her solid. The only other time she’d ever stood up to anyone was when she confronted Trish Chanson for bullying a girl at school. But this… this was something else entirely.

  “Do you get attacked often on this route? I mean… it’s been twice now. Seems like a dangerous job,” Riley said as Garron opened the first set of saddlebags.

  “Well, it provides grain,” Garron replied, rummaging through the pack. “But yes, it has been more dangerous lately. Wasn’t like this not so long ago. They say trouble on the roads usually means larger unrest in the realm.”

  He paused, then his face lit up. “Ah! Look here…”

  He pulled out a fistful of silver, grinning like he’d just won a bet with fate. He dug deeper, producing a day’s worth of rations and a waterskin sloshing with water.

  Riley shifted closer, brow furrowing. “Unrest? What kind of unrest?”

  Garron didn’t look up from the saddlebags, but his expression tightened just a little. “Rumors mostly. Border trouble. Vanishings on the trade roads. Folk going missing in the night. Nothing confirmed.”

  Riley exchanged a glance with Thorne, her stomach tightening. “But enough that people are talking about it?”

  “Aye,” Garron said, pulling out another waterskin. “Enough that even the quiet places aren’t so quiet anymore.”

  “Here,” he said, handing her a waterskin. “The silver and rations are simple enough, we can divide those evenly between us when we get to Rivermark. The horses won’t be so easy.” Garron’s smile faded as he spoke.

  “Why? What do you mean?” Riley asked.

  “Well, horses are worth real coin, and whatever we earn from them, we’d divide it of course. But the trouble is they’re branded.” Garron clicked his tongue, giving the nearest horse a pat. “Come now. Let’s load up and be on our way. We can speak more as we travel.”

  Garron and Riley worked together to redistribute the gear and tie the three horses to the back of the caravan. Once everything was secure, they set off toward Rivermark.

  “The horses are branded by House Wolfstead,” Garron explained as the road stretched out before them. “So, we’ve three choices. We could each take a horse, but riding around with marked property is a risk I would not recommend. Too many questions, too many eyes.”

  He shifted in the saddle, thinking aloud. “We could return them to House Wolfstead, but they’ll likely deny those thieves ever served them. They’d claim the horses were stolen and demand them back, leaving us with nothing for our trouble. And even if they did offer a reward for honesty, it would be a pittance.”

  Then he raised his eyebrows and wagged his head side to side, as if weighing the final option. “Or… we sell them on the black market. We’d only fetch a third of their worth, but a third is better than empty hands. And I know a man who’d take them without asking questions and pay a fair price for the risk.”

  “I do not know, Garron. I mean, this feels…” Riley began.

  “…yes, we should get sixty gold for the three,” Garron went on, not even noticing she had spoken.

  “Sixty gold!” Riley blurted out.

  “Well, yes. As I said, they’d fetch more coin if they weren’t branded. But even so, thirty gold apiece is a fine windfall for our troubles. Wouldn’t you say?” Riley’s mind spun. Thirty gold wasn’t just money, it was time. Months of work. Maybe more. She tried to picture how many days she’d have to work to earn that honestly, how many long, aching hours, how many nights going hungry. She’d been scraping by on copper and silver, but gold? Gold changed things. It solved problems. It covered needs. It opened doors. The thought of what it could do made her dizzy. She steadied herself. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Riley. It’s not yours until it’s in your hands.

  “With that money you might want to consider getting a horse of your own. You can ride, can’t you?” Garron asked.

  Riley shook her head slightly. She could learn, but owning a horse felt like more than just a purchase. It felt like a commitment. Plus, she had nowhere to keep it, and with the wild caribou she had encountered and the aggressive messages left at her doorstep, leaving a horse outside felt like inviting trouble. Stables cost money. Protection cost money. And more than that, buying a horse felt like she was resorting to stay in this world. Gold also had other uses, especially when it came to the tower. Upgrades demanded coin, and those costs added up fast.

  “No, but I could learn,” Riley said, quickly changing topics. “So, are you from Lastlands? What do you think of it here?”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Garron was in his element. His wife often had to silence him, as his stories were always long-winded.

  “No, no. I’m from the Old World,” Garron said with a dismissive wave. “The New World doesn’t suit me. Too many greedy folk and not enough rules. Everyone out here is chasing fortune by staking claims, stripping the land bare, digging for whatever they can sell. And without a ruling House to keep order, it’s chaos.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Oh, all the great Houses have a presence here, aye, but only enough to take what they need. They’re more interested in filling their coffers than establishing any real authority this far out.”

  Garron pointed ahead as if he could see the distant coast. “If you ever make it to the port south of Rivermark, you’ll understand. Every soul there is obsessed with coin. And to be fair, it’s the place for it. Exclusive goods from the Lastlands fetch a high price across the sea on the southern coast. Getting them there is vital work, and folk are paid handsomely for it, no one cares how the job gets done. Plenty of backdoor dealings, plenty of hands greased.”

  He shook his head. “But I’m an honest man. That’s why I prefer the way Grey Ridge rules. You steal; you’re punished. Simple. There’s safety in that. Probably why the other great Houses support them, it’s in their interest to have laws enforced.”

  Garron gave her a sideways glance. “You’re too young to remember, but when House Stonecrow seized House Ashcombe, people didn’t take kindly to it. House Stonecrow is still trying to mend its reputation.”

  He settled back into his saddle. “In Grey Ridge’s territory, you’ve got old noble bloodlines running their Houses. They coexist because they each serve a purpose, farming, mining, sea trade, you know. Conquests still happen, of course, but no one expects Grey Ridge to rule everything. I’d wager the other rulers are paid quite well to look the other way when claims are challenged.”

  His voice dropped into a grumble. “And who suffers? The common folk. Every time leadership changes, the guilds get torn apart and rebuilt, and the people end up paying more for the same services. I heard of a blacksmith charging 12 silver for a set of horseshoes. Can you believe it? Craftsmen squeezing every last coin they can.”

  Garron continued at length about trade routes, rivalries, and quiet tensions. Riley let him talk, relaxing as the road passed beneath the wheels.

  Eventually she interrupted. “You must have heard some very tall tales in your travels. What is one of the best you have heard lately?”

  Garron considered her words for a moment. “There was a story some time back that came to my ears…”

  Riley held her breath. For a moment she was certain he was about to mention her and the impossible way she’d arrived in this world, the thing she’d tried so hard not to let slip. Her chest tightened as she waited for the next words to fall. “Folk come and go in these lands, but this… this was different. A herdsman swore he saw a woman appear out of thin air. Said there was a flash, bright as lightning but without a storm, and then she was simply there, standing in the grass like she’d stepped out of nowhere.”

  He gave a small, dismissive snort. “Could’ve been the drink talking. That man’s known to lean heavy on the ale. Still… it was a strange tale. I’ve not heard another like it.”

  Riley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Another woman who didn’t belong here and who had just appeared out of nowhere, just like her.

  If she didn’t know from her own impossible arrival that such a thing could happen, she would have dismissed the story too, just another drunken ramble from a man who’d had one ale too many. But she had appeared the same way. She had stood dazed and disoriented in a world that wasn’t hers, with no explanation and no warning.

  And now, apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

  A tremor of hope flickered through her. There was someone who would understand her. Someone who might have answers.

  Riley forced her expression to stay neutral, eyes fixed on the road ahead as if the story meant nothing more than idle gossip. Inside, though, her thoughts raced.

  I’m not alone.

  They spoke of gossip and rumors until the gates of Rivermark came into view. They had made good time. With more time to explore, Riley felt an urgency. There was so much she wanted to do before the market shut down.

  Before they parted ways, Garron handed her one of the thieves’ satchels of food and pressed five silver into her hand. Half of what they had taken from the raiders. He promised her share of the gold from the sale of the horses the next day, when they would meet again for the ride back.

  Riley tucked the coins away. Twenty-six silver and three copper.

  Thorne who had been sleeping in the back of the caravan most of the way jumped out, barked once at her, then bolted into the forest.

  “Ok, Thorne has his own business to take care of,” Riley thought.

  She walked through the gates with her back a little straighter. She had money. She had purpose. She knew people.

  “Watch out, Rivermark. Big bad Riley is back,” she muttered, tripping on a rock a second later. She glanced around quickly, cheeks warm, but no one seemed to notice.

  There was the tea cart near the gate again.

  “Well, back again I see,” Tarin said.

  “I couldn’t resist, your tea was one of the high points of my last visit,” Riley replied.

  “You honor me,” he said touching his hand to his chest.

  “I don’t think I introduced myself the last time we met. I apologize I was a bit worn from my travels. My name is Riley.”

  “Riley the Traveller. How was your journey? The wind carries news of raiders along the road.”

  “Uneventful,” she lied, careful not to mention the raiders Garron had reduced to nothing. Word of that would only make selling their horses more complicated.

  “But I leave again tomorrow. Is there anything I should be on the lookout for? You know what they say, ‘trouble on the roads usually means larger unrest in the realm’” she said, casually passing off Garron’s wisdom as her own.

  They exchanged a cup of tea for a copper coin.

  “That is very true. These parts can go from bad to worse quickly when conquest is in the air. Magic save us all.” He shook his head, the words falling from him like a quiet prayer to some distant power.

  “Mmm, yes. Magic. I could use some of that,” Riley said, trying to sound as though she knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “Do you need directions to the local magic shop?” Tarin offered earnestly, missing her tone entirely.

  “That would be very helpful, thank you. I could use a good magic wielder too, if you know of any. Someone who could help a tired traveller save her legs with a nice teleportation spell,” she said lightly, her tone balanced on that fine line where it could be taken as truth… or dismissed as a harmless joke.

  Tarin slowed as he steeped the tea. He paused, looked up at her, then paused again.

  “That is high magic. Most commoners are not aware of that level of power. You are not what you seem, are you Riley the Traveller?” Tarin said.

  “Oh no, you just hear a lot travelling the roads,” Riley stumbled.

  “I do not have direct knowledge of such things,” Tarin interrupted.

  Riley’s uneasy smile began to fade. “I didn’t think so. I was just…”

  Tarin leaned in, lowering his voice. “But I might have a secret to share with a friend.”

  “A friend?” Riley asked.

  “Yes. My friend silver,” Tarin said, pursing his lips.

  Riley blinked, then nodded in understanding. “Ah. Would that include a small amount of tea too for your friend silver?”

  Tarin considered, then reluctantly nodded.

  Riley handed over a silver coin.

  As Tarin packed her tea, he spoke quietly. “Less common knowledge says there is only one who could create portals in this realm. He is said to reside in the north, and he is well known there.” He leaned in and whispered, “Edrin Kavos.”

  Riley took the tea, suddenly unsure what to say.

  “The magic shop is on the second street on the right. Tell them your friend Tarin sent you,” he said loudly, smiling wide as if the two of them hadn’t just brushed against a subject people preferred not to speak of.

  “I will. Thank you for the tea,” Riley replied, offering a quick smile before turning away.

  She walked deeper into Rivermark, her mind racing faster than her feet.