The road to Kratter took longer than Erich expected. There were some garr along the way, but only one group of the frog monsters was actually bold enough to attack. The rest stuck to the rainswept waterways that lined the roads.

  Allthier and his ox, Benny, weren’t the worst travel companions. The cinderborn prattled on about his family and trading gossip. Erich didn’t much care about which merchant used shot weights when selling rice to which outfitter, but the constant chatter served as a good distraction from the worries that bogged him down.

  Benny? Well Benny didn’t say much of anything. He was good natured as far as animals went. Michelle would constantly swipe at him with her paws, trying and failing to draw a reaction. The big ox took everything in stride, simply staring blankly at the otter as she scrambled around before pouncing playfully on one of his hooves.

  As for Michelle, there was no doubt that the otter was growing. A third of Erich’s backpack was devoted to garr meat, and Michelle went through it fast. He needed to restock in the small village they stopped in two days outside of Madla, and that cost him fifty bits, almost ten percent of all the money he had to his name.

  Still it was worth it every time he picked the otter up. Already she was too big for Allthier to carry. Erich fared better than the merchant, but there was no doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t have been able to carry the otter without his enhanced physique.

  Every night ended in one of the stone way stations that lined the road. Allthier and Erich quickly fell into a rhythm where the two of them would work together to tie up Benny and start a fire to warm themselves. After they got the fire going, Erich would excuse himself to practice his sword forms in the rain while Allthier fixed up dinner for the four of them. Finally, they would go to bed with Erich, Allthier and Michelle keeping watch in shifts.

  After the better part of a week of travel, the road angled upward. There was still constant rain, but the runoff was collected in retaining ponds rather than rice fields, and Erich began to see docks and fishing shacks where serfs collected fish from the artificial lakes. In between the lakes, fruit orchards swayed back and forth in the heavy storm winds.

  By the end of the day, their small convoy reached Kratter itself. It wasn’t a huge town, barely bigger than Burrwood back home, but after his time manning the walls in the great darkness in between worlds and his experience with the smaller farming villages along the way, it felt like a metropolis.

  More than anything, Erich wanted a proper bed. Madla had provided him with a pile of hay under a sack cloth, a noted improvement over the rock floors of the waysides, but none of that would compare to an actual bed with proper stuffing.

  He shifted from one foot to another, waiting outside the town gate alongside Allthier. In front of them in line were four slaves, dressed in their somewhat water proofed work clothes as the returned home after a long day at Kratter’s fisheries. Two guards stood guarding the entrance, one inspecting the returning workers and the small wooden plaques that they presented her with while her companion kept his eyes on the road and surrounding area.

  Erich leaned over to Allthier, a slight frown on his face.

  “Am I going to need an ID or something?” He whispered. “All I have is my apprentice brand. Is that going to be good enough to get me into town?”

  Allthier chuckled, shaking his head.

  “It’s clear that you weren’t born on Tempest Erich,” the cinderborn replied. “You’re a swordsman. Even if the guards were checking identification, your apprentice brand is all the proof you need to show that you’re exempt.”

  “They aren’t really checking for identification right now,” Allthier continued. “Kratter has a gate tax. I will have to pay five percent of the value of the goods in my cart. A yeoman without goods will have to pay five bits. Slaves do not have to pay anything, instead their masters give them wooden identification marks and the gate tax is charged against their masters’ credit at a later date.”

  “Next,” the guard called out, waving the slaves through the gate. She looked over the two of them, her eyes locking onto the sword at Erich’s waist.

  “Swordsman or yeoman?” She asked, nodding at his weapon. The other guard peeled off the wall and began quietly talking with Allthier as the merchant pulled the tarp off of his cart.

  “Swordsman,” Erich replied, exposing his apprentice brand. “My master Sathis just passed away, and I’m engaging in the rite of Mathliss for him.”

  “Just like in the stories,” she said, nodding in approval. “Still, that must be a bit of a hike, especially since you aren’t allowed to ride any pack animals. If I were you, I’d talk to a cobbler about getting a spare pair of boots. You’re gonna walk through the pair on your feet before too long, and the last thing you want is to be stuck walking a hundred miles barefoot.”

  “It’s a bit more than a hundred miles,” Eric responded. “I’m on my way to Cinder. The good news is that when the little scamp sleeping on my shoulder grows up a little more, I should be able to ride her. Mathliss allows a warrior to ride a beast that they’ve tamed with their own two hands. Still, I’ll probably need to take you up on that advice. It’s going to be a while before she’s big enough to ride, and I’d be surprised if I didn’t walk a couple of holes in my boots in the meantime.”

  “Say,” she said slyly. “My cousin is a cobbler. He’s trying to make a go of being a yeoman. He’s got a shop set up on Mill Street and everything. He doesn’t have a lot of business right now and he’s a bit worried that he might have to sell himself to a master cobbler to make ends meet. A good pair of boots are fifty bits. I’ll give you twenty if you buy from him. Just don’t tell him that I sent you. Andre has his pride.”

  “I don’t even know your name,” Erich replied with a quick laugh. “It’ll be hard for me to rat you out to your cousin.”

  She stuck out a hand, and Erich grasped it.

  “Name’s Jassra, “ she said, pumping Erich’s hand cheerfully. “Come visit me with a new pair of boots and I’ll pay you a little extra. Honestly, it’d mean the world to me, and you’ll get a cheap pair of boots out of it. Andre is fretting constantly but he won’t take any help from the rest of us. He’s a good cobbler too. You’ll be happy with his work, I can assure you of that.”

  “Unfortunately I won’t be able to stick around and talk up the quality of the boots,” Eric replied with an exaggerated shrug. “Mathliss.”

  Some movement by the cart drew Erich’s attention. Allthier paid the guard a handful of bits, and the merchant was quickly strapping his tarp back into place with practiced ease.

  “Understandable,” she said with a quick smile. “Just come and visit me with the boots when you get them. I work the afternoon shifts at the East Gate. Can’t miss me. I’ll be standing right here.”

  “I’ll see you then,” Erich responded, stepping away from her and toward Allthier. The other guard was already waving the merchant and his cart through the gate.

  Benny mooed quietly to himself as they walked through the archway and into Kratter itself. The first thing Erich noticed was the town square immediately inside the gate. An obelisk made out of dark stone stood in the center of the cobblestone clearing and dozens of stores and stalls lined the edges of the square as vendors hawked their goods to townsfolk and travelers alike.

  Around the obelisk itself, there was a respectful clearing, but the rest of the square was teeming with people. Most were cinderborn, but there were a couple humans here and there shopping for produce in the marketplace.

  Allthier led Benny inside and to the left, finding one of the few open spots near the town’s wall. Shoppers pushed past the two of them, not even paying attention to Erich and Allthier as they went about their days.

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

  “Erich,” Allthier said, handing him a small sackcloth pouch that jingled slightly. “One hundred and fifty bits. It’s more than I originally was going to give you for journeying with me, but I saw how much work you put in defending Madla. The farmers couldn’t afford to pay more, and unfortunately neither can I.”

  The cinderborn paused, wincing slightly before he continued.

  “I usually pick up agricultural products on my way back from the battlefront so that I can sell them in Kratter, but with the garr nests there wasn’t anything to buy. One hundred and fifty is the best that I can do. At that rate I’m barely breaking even on the entire trip, and I have kids to feed. I’m sorry that-”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Erich replied. “I honestly don’t really have a good idea how much my services would be worth if I was hired through a job service or something similar, but even if you’re severely underpaying me, I wouldn’t ask for more anyway. Your money will help me on my trip, and I never intended to soak you for every last bit. I don’t have any complaints.”

  Allthier sighed. He opened his mouth to say something before catching himself and chewing his lip for a second. Finally, he spoke up, his voice notably quieter.

  “Look, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I would suggest checking around the marketplace for some of the bigger merchant houses. One of them probably has a caravan going to the next city over and you could earn yourself some bits while getting out of here. Kratter isn’t an awful place if you know the rules, but it is a place where you have to watch your words and actions. Saying the wrong thing to the wrong person can get you into a whole lot of trouble. I’d suggest putting off any relaxation you have in mind until you can make it to someplace a bit more hospitable.”

  “What about reporting on what happened at Madla?” Erich asked, frowning. “It sounds like the entire village is administered by that Tarrl guy. I should probably let him know about the garr infestation before I move on.”

  Allthier’s eyes flared as he chewed on his lower lip, clearly hemming and hawwing about how he would answer Erich’s question.

  “Erich,” he said carefully. “I don’t think you want to do that. Derl will send word to Tarrl about your role in the defense of Madla. That said, Derl is grateful for all the help you provided and Madla is in the middle of a harvest. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t actually send a runner for another week or two. That’s him doing you a favor. Tarrl isn’t someone you want to come to the attention of. He’s a shrewd merchant. A lot better at his job than I am, that’s for sure. He has a reputation for not taking a loss. If he can think of a way to turn a profit off of your presence, he will. Your permission and comfort have nothing to do with the equation.”

  “So I should just move along then?” He questioned. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage that. I need to buy some supplies for my trip. I won’t make it that far without food and new clothing, the garr really did a number on what I was wearing.”

  “And that’s why Derl will wait to send a runner,” Allthier replied. “Look, I’m not pretending to be an angel here. I don’t know all and see all so you can take my advice or discard it, your choice. I’m just saying what I’ve heard in whispers. You’re a good man Erich, but all I can give you now is a warning. What you do with that warning is up to you.”

  The cinderborn smiled weakly, giving Erich a final curt nod before flicking his wrist, jerking on Benny’s reins and starting the oxen moving once again. Erich tossed the sack of coins gently, catching them with a satisfying clink as he thought over his options. Part of him wanted to make a report to the merchant that managed Madla, it was both the right thing to do and by all accounts the man probably owed him money.

  On the other hand, Erich wasn’t completely reckless. Both Derl and Allthier seemed wary of the man, and the two cinderborn had treated him right so far. Even if it rubbed him the wrong way to just ignore Tarrl, it was probably a good idea. Erich wasn’t some sort of traveling avenger and his ego wasn’t so large that he couldn’t ignore some sort of minor slight.

  Mind made up, he deposited the bag of coins in his pack and began crossing the town square. Vendors called out to him, offering samples or trying to interest him in any number of products from fresh produce to jewelry. He smiled politely, hand on his pack in case a pick pocketer or snatch and grab thief took him for an easy mark.

  It took him about five minutes to push through the crowd and into one of the major streets that fed into the marketplace. Once there, it was simple for him to flag down one of the children that seemed to be everywhere and trade a bit for directions to Mill Street as well as a decent inn where he could stay the night.

  Once he left the market, things calmed down considerably. There were still people on the street in ones and twos, but most of them seemed to be traveling to and from the workshops that lined the road rather than milling about and shopping. The murmur of conversation quickly faded into the clang and scrape of tools fashioning metal, leather, and wood.

  Barely five minutes later, Erich came upon a line of people, half cinderborn and half human, that stood sweating in the rain, a heavy sack of rice over one shoulder as they stood outside a large building that could only be the town mill. One by one, they were let in out of the elements, but Erich couldn’t help but wince at the ones still stuck outside, struggling under the weight of their burden.

  Slavery might not have been as bad as he expected growing up on Hollendil, it really wasn’t that much different than serfdom back home. Really, it was a bit better. Slaves in the confederacy were born free and had the option to try and become yeoman if they had a plan to handle the financial instability that went along with living free.

  Still, being poor was a miserable experience no matter where you lived. As disinterested as his family had been, Erich supposed he had to thank him for that. He’d wanted for nothing but attention and affection growing up. His happy years exploring the forests and hills outside Burrwood would’ve been impossible if his parents were serfs.

  A rebellious part of his mind twitched. Even if he’d needed to perform hard labor starting on his twelfth birthday, at least then his parents would’ve loved him. Maybe he would’ve even had a chance to interact with his neighbors and make some friends before being sent off to war.

  He passed the line of workers. None of them tried to interact with Erich, so he let them be, only a couple traitorous thoughts about what could have been dwelling on them as he kept moving.

  It took a couple of minutes before he reached the cobbler he was looking for. As Erich kept walking, the shops became smaller and more spartan. They weren’t exactly run down, but it was clear that their owners didn’t care to have any frills. Frankly, Erich preferred it that way. His parents had been big on luxury and living beyond their means, but for him, simple utilitarianism was king. There wasn’t any real reason to have a sword with fancy reliefs etched into its blade when an unadorned one would cut down a foe just as easily.

  Finally, he found the door he was looking for. A small shop that simply said “Andre’s Shoes” in hand painted letters on a sign hanging above the door. He turned the knob and a bell jingled, heralding his arrival as Erich stepped out of the constant rain.

  “A customer!” A jovial male voice called out from the back of the store. “Come on in out of the rain and let me have a look at you. Whether you’re here for repairs or a brand new commission, I’m the cobbler for you.”

  The man bustled into view. At first glance he looked human. Admittedly, he was very tan, almost with the darker complexion of an islander, but a closer inspection revealed otherwise.

  Beneath curly blonde hair, a pair of amber eyes burned brightly, glowing with the light that marked the shop keeper as a cinderborn

  He grinned at Erich, slipping past a cluttered work bench to offer him a hand. Erich shook it, brow furrowing slightly as he tried to form a response.

  “I didn’t know what to expect, but-” he began only for Andre to cut him off with a quick laugh.

  “There aren’t many human cinderborn mixes out there, but we’re around.” He paused for a second, the glow of his left eye flickering in an exaggerated wink. “They say I’ve got my mother’s eyes.”

  Erich laughed back, pumping the cobbler’s hand once in a firm handshake. Andre stepped back, pulling a chair out from the desk and offering it to Erich as he plopped himself down on a wooden crate.

  “I’m sure you do,” Erich replied.

  “It’s funny that people say that,” Andre mused. “Especially considering she’s the human one.”

  Erich couldn’t help but smile. There was just something about the man’s constant energy that made it hard not to like him. Silently, he thanked Jassra for her recommendation. He really would need boots sooner rather than later, and Andre seemed like a decent sort of person to work with.

  On Erich’s shoulder, Michelle chirped, already bored with their exchange. He reached up, patting her once before he addressed the shopkeeper.

  “I’d love to chit chat forever, but I have a cranky child that needs to visit an inn.” Michelle huffed out an indignant breath, but she didn’t bother disagreeing with him.

  “In that case,” Andre replied, “what can I do to help? I’m assuming you didn’t wander all the way down Mill street just for your health. It’s a terrible day out, not that most days aren’t terrible during the rainy season, so it seems safe to infer that you’re here looking to buy or repair some boots.”

  “I am here for boots,” Eric responded, still smiling. “I’m in the midst of the rite of Mathliss so I’ll be walking for a while. Even if my current pair will last me three or four months, I’ll be on the road long after that. Having a spare is always a good idea.”

  “Right you are,” Andre responded, jumping up and grabbing some measuring tape from the table behind Erich. “Let’s get your dimensions so that I can get to work.”

  “Say,” the cobbler remarked slyly. “As useful as a spare pair of boots is, there’s only one thing better.”

  Erich raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “Two spare pairs of boots,” Andre continued, face blossoming into a massive grin. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a buy one get one half off special?”