Suspicious Job

A sharp wind cut through the mountain pass, biting against my exposed skin as I adjusted the straps of my pack. The worn leather creaked under my fingers, the metal fittings cold as ice. Despite the harsh conditions, the familiar weight was a comfort, a silent reminder of the life I had chosen—or, more accurately, the life that had chosen me.

The road ahead stretched like a jagged scar through the mountains, winding higher into treacherous elevations where the air thinned and the cold burrowed deep into bone. My boots crunched against the frost-covered stone as I turned toward the merchant who had hired us. He was an older man, wrapped in layers that did little to hide the worn lines of his face. His eyes, though kind, carried the telltale flicker of a man who had seen too much and trusted too little.

"So..." I broke the silence, my voice barely audible above the wind. "What exactly are you carrying?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I could feel Kvatz's curiosity ignite beside me. He had always been the inquisitive type, but this job already had too many red flags for my liking. The merchant let out a long, weary sigh and cast a furtive glance around, as if the mountains themselves had ears. When he finally leaned in, his breath was a pungent mix of cheap booze and stale sweat.

"It's... special cargo, love. The sort that could land us all in a heap o' trouble if the wrong sort of folk got wind of it."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the paranoia in his tone. His fingers twitched, and his gaze darted toward the cliffs like he expected shadows to rise up and take him.

I raised a skeptical brow, crossing my arms against the cold. "Special cargo, you say? I've heard that one before. Care to elaborate, old man?"

The merchant licked his cracked lips, a nervous tic that only deepened my unease. He hesitated, then took another glance over his shoulder before finally speaking, his voice strained and hushed.

"It's... it's a relic, love. An ancient artifact of immense power. The sort that could shift the balance of this whole damned war if it fell into the wrong hands."

He shuddered as he spoke, his eyes haunted by an unseen horror. The weight of his words settled in my gut like a stone. Relics were dangerous business. Wars had been fought over them, kingdoms had fallen for them, and people far more powerful than me had died trying to possess them.

I shot Kvatz a sideways glance, silently asking if he still thought this job was worth the risk. He simply shrugged, his grin a mix of excitement and apprehension. That was Kvatz for you—always up for a challenge, no matter how bad the odds looked.

The merchant, perhaps emboldened by our lack of outright refusal, leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Alright, love. Here's the deal. I need you two to escort this relic through the pass and into the Central Wards. No one can know what you're carrying, mind you."

I exhaled sharply, my breath turning to mist in the frigid air. "Well, we already took the job, so I suppose we have no choice."

Turns out, this wasn't an escort mission for someone but something. That alone was enough to put me on edge. I had dealt with my fair share of shady dealings before, but this? This felt different. The merchant's weathered face split into a relieved grin, though it didn't quite reach his wary eyes.

"That's the spirit, love! You won't regret it, I promise."

He clapped me on the shoulder, his grip surprisingly firm for a man who looked like he had spent more time bargaining in the back alleys than fighting on a battlefield.

As we began our ascent into the mountains, the cold wrapped around us like a vice. The higher we climbed, the more unforgiving the wind became, cutting through our cloaks and armor like daggers of ice. The path was narrow and treacherous, flanked by jagged rocks and sheer cliffs that plunged into darkness below.

Though I tried to focus on the terrain, a nagging thought kept picking at my mind. The route made no sense. Getting to the Central Wards from the east meant heading straight through Independent territory, yet we were detouring north into the mountains. Why take the long way around when there were safer, more direct routes?

I glanced at the merchant, who trudged ahead with his head low and shoulders hunched against the cold. His constant glances over his shoulder did nothing to ease my doubts. Kvatz, walking beside me, seemed to have picked up on it too. His fingers twitched near the grip of his sidearm, his eyes scanning the ridges above us.

A nameless merchant who looked more like a back-alley tech dealer than a seasoned tradesman, a supposedly powerful artifact, a completely unnecessary detour, and only two Nerköv hired for the job?

Yeah.

This was way too suspicious.