CHAPTER 34: A Trap in Every Step

  During the journey east, Ryse chose deserted paths and passed through only small villages. He avoided walled cities and guard posts as much as possible, using the travel pass he had acquired from Marfas only when there was no other choice.

  He always spent the night in the open for better escape chances if ambushed. He chose his sleeping spots with deliberation: atop trees, in dense forests, or other difficult to track locations that at the same time allowed him to spot any assailants approaching.

  He bought ready to eat provisions to avoid lighting fires, and also refrained from riding a horse. Having one, especially near the front and approaching winter when food became scarcer by the day, would only complicate matters.

  The road sign ahead was peculiar. The nails were new, though the sign itself was weathered. His next destination was a walled city that traded with surrounding towns by channeling its goods through rivers, implying that it should be situated on high ground.

  Disregarding signs could lead to major inconveniences. After the Black Eye incident, many landscapes and river courses changed, leaving numerous old roads leading to abandoned lands. In the end, he decided to trust his instincts and took the opposite path.

  Further on, there were more diverging paths, each sign having similar oddities. It seemed the sign was reversed to confuse non-locals. However, because they were consistently inverted, he simply chose the consistent opposite.

  The worn path indicated his approach to a bustling center. His shoes were tattered and bulging from emergency patches made along the way. He planned to replace them in the next city.

  The city, nestled against mountains, would be the last walled city for him. It was under the Isfan’s rule, but with the travel pass he should not have encountered any problems. After all, this was not the first time he had passed through such a city.

  Roads, as well as river bends, converged here. Carts, wagons, merchant ships, and traders moved toward and away from the city. Its inhabitants are occupied with the final harvest, slaughtering livestock to alleviate the fodder burden, and preserving provisions for the winter.

  Ryse approached the gatekeeper without hiding his face, as doing so would be counterproductive. He also did not wait until the gates nearly closed, hoping for more careless guards eager to return home. With the travel pass, such moves were unnecessary and would only raise suspicion.

  As the gatekeeper scrutinized the travel pass, he glanced at a poster with his image. The depiction was as inaccurate as previous ones.

  The guard examined the document longer than usual. Most could not read, but they knew how to recognize authenticity through seals, parchment type and size, and specific codes.

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  After what seemed like hours, the guard returned the document and allowed him entry.

  The city was bustling, offering him a chance to blend in if something went wrong. Using the travel pass, he could even obtain necessities from military posts, but he did not want to take unnecessary risks.

  Conversely, while Merchant Guild membership could afford him special pricing and priority in acquiring rationed items such as food and medicine, utilizing it would risk revealing his location to his mentor. Therefore, he bought his own supplies, even at exorbitant prices due to the proximity to the front and winter.

  Next, he visited a cordwainer. A small bell tinkled as he entered the shop. An old man welcomed him to a sofa. Courtesy oat cookies are presented on the side table.

  “What can I assist you with, Sir…?” the man raised one of his white eyebrows.

  “Ryse. I need new shoes, but keep these soles.” He bit into one of the cookies. Like his unusual shoelaces, its soles were made from monster scales, providing a non-slip and silent stride.

  “Very well, Sir. You! Quick, measure Sir Ryse's feet.” As the old man went to another room to prepare his tools, a young errand boy came bringing warm chamomile tea along with a side dish of various nuts, berries, and cherries.

  The boy removed Ryse’s shoes and traced his feet with chalk as he leaned against the sofa, sipping chamomile tea. His left hand held a handful of pistachios and walnuts.

  Ryse looked up at the patterned green ceiling, inhaling to fill his chest before exhaling a long sigh. The journey had taken a toll on both his body and mind. He always spent the night in rocky places to better hear the footsteps of enemies or monsters, sleeping only in fits and starts. But it would all be worth it once he stopped his mentor.

  What would he do with his mentor afterward? After all, he was the one who saved him and Elsja after they escaped from the orphanage. Ryse closed his eyes. His muscles relaxed, and he sank further into the sofa.

  That could wait. Today, he would choose a good inn and have a good rest.

  Click.

  Ryse frowned. He checked his foot and glared. The errand boy had clamped a restraining bracelet around his ankle!

  His body tensed. Pistachios in his left hand reminded him of his carelessness. He was deceived as well as deceived himself! None of the side dishes earlier contained any poison; his Prana-enhanced senses and training would have detected it if they had.

  However, the chamomile tea, nuts, and sweet fruits were dishes that naturally induced drowsiness. Combined with fatigue and his desire to rest, he had relaxed his vigilance by his own volition.

  He kicked the boy and rose, toppling the sofa. The old man emerged from his room after hearing the commotion.

  “My apologies, someone paid us to do this.”

  Ryse clicked his tongue. Whoever paid them understood how to exploit his behavior, knowing well that he would not harm the two.

  The noise from the front door did not give him much time to think. He fled by breaking through a window and landed barefoot in a narrow alley between two rows of houses. Clotheslines and drying garments stretched between the second floors of both buildings.

  “There!” A group of people appeared at one end of the alley. He ran the opposite way under the crisscrossing clotheslines.

  He needed to leave the city, fast. But as he glanced back to gauge his pursuers, a piece of clothing covered his face. Ryse wrested it off and threw it away.

  That moment's lapse did not go unnoticed by a silhouette in a second-floor window. It leaped towards him, its right hand grabbing one end of a clothesline. Just before landing, the figure flicked its wrist to create a loop in the line, ensnaring Ryse's neck.

  He dragged down and fell. His hands tried to pull off the noose.

  “You've lost, Ryse,” said the figure. The sun behind blacked its face. “Surrender.”

  Knowing the restraining bracelet made resistance futile, Ryse ceased struggling.