Chapter 29 - A Quiet Threat

The next morning, Aric woke early, the first light of dawn spilling through the small window of their room.

There was a constant tension hanging over him, a reminder of how much was still left unresolved. 

Saria remained asleep in her bed, curled up beneath a thin blanket. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed for the first time since they had met, but

Aric knew better than to let that lull him into any sense of security. There was something about her—her calmness, her obedience—that didn't sit right with him. It was as if she was waiting, biding her time.

Aric moved quietly, gathering his belongings and strapping his sword to his side. He had intended to leave the inn early to avoid drawing any more attention.

The innkeeper's suspicious glances and the few prying eyes in the market yesterday had unsettled him. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or perhaps many, had taken notice of his arrival.

He glanced at Saria one last time before leaving the room, deciding to let her sleep a bit longer. If she was smart, she wouldn't try to escape. Not here, not with so many variables against her.

Outside, the village was still waking up, the air cool and crisp in the early hours of the morning.

A few villagers were already setting up their stalls in the market square, though the noise from the previous day had yet to return. Aric made his way through the quiet streets, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings, ever watchful.

His destination was the blacksmith. If there were any leads on the mercenaries or hints of the broader conspiracy that had captured Vire, he might find something here.

A small village like this one would have its own underground, and the blacksmiths and tavern owners were often the ones with their ears to the ground.

The clang of a hammer against metal guided him to a small shop on the edge of the market. Inside, a burly man with a sooty apron worked the forge, sparks flying as he shaped a red-hot piece of iron.

Aric waited at the entrance for a moment, then cleared his throat to announce his presence.

The blacksmith glanced up, wiping sweat from his brow. "You looking for something specific?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Aric stepped closer, careful with his words. "I need information," he said. "About mercenaries, hired hands. Anyone passing through town recently, stirring up trouble."

The blacksmith gave him a long, measured look before setting his hammer down. "That's not something I typically get involved with," he said cautiously. "But I've heard things. This village doesn't see many outsiders, so when people like you show up, it tends to get noticed."

Aric leaned against the counter, his eyes narrowing. "Go on."

The blacksmith hesitated, but something about Aric's intensity must have convinced him to speak. "A few days ago, a group came through. Dressed in black, keeping to themselves. Didn't cause any trouble directly, but the innkeeper said they were asking questions. They left soon after, though I don't know where they went."

Aric's heart sank. The men in black—clearly part of the same group that had attacked him in the forest. They were still tracking him, or worse, closing in on Vire. "Did they say anything else? Ask about anyone specific?"

The blacksmith shook his head. "Not that I know of. But they weren't the type you want to cross. Looked like they'd been through hell and back. They had the look of mercenaries, but something else too—like they were hunting something, not just people."

Aric nodded, a grim expression settling on his face. It aligned with what the woman, Saria, had told him. These men were after something much more valuable than coin—they were after Vire, the forest spirit.

"Appreciate the information," Aric said, turning to leave. "One more thing—if they come back, let me know."

The blacksmith grunted in acknowledgement as Aric stepped out into the street once more. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information.

It was only a matter of time before the men in black made their move again, and he had to be ready. Vire was still out there, hidden from him, and every step he took felt like one more inch closer to a confrontation he wasn't yet ready for.

Returning to the inn, Aric climbed the stairs to their room and found Saria awake, sitting on the edge of her bed. She looked up as he entered, her face betraying no emotion.

"We need to move soon," Aric said, his voice tense. "This village isn't safe for long."

Saria nodded slowly. "Where are we going next?"

"I don't know yet," Aric admitted. "But we need to stay ahead of them. Whoever these men are, they won't stop until they have Vire. And I won't stop until I've taken them down."

Saria said nothing in response, but something flickered in her eyes—perhaps a hint of fear, or maybe something else entirely.

Aric checked the straps of his gear once more. He had no intention of waiting around for the enemy to strike again. The next move was his, and he intended to make it count.