Chapter 2: Welcome to Veyndale

The settlement of Veyndale wasn't much to look at.

Aelric stood at the edge of the treeline, hidden among snow-dusted pines, eyes sweeping over the place with quiet calculation.

It was exactly what the Remnant System had promised — a fragment of civilization clinging to the edges of the Human Kingdoms, far from the stone walls and gilded churches of the central realms.

A palisade of rough-hewn logs encircled the town. Smoke curled from crooked chimneys. Beyond the wall, wooden rooftops sagged beneath the snow's weight. The air carried the mingled scents of pine, woodsmoke… and poverty.

At the gates, two guards in patched leather leaned on rusted spears, stamping their feet for warmth. Their eyes were half-lidded, bored. Not real soldiers — farmers with weapons.

Good. That meant the real threats came from inside.

Aelric adjusted the furs draped over his too-thin shoulders. His stolen blade was hidden beneath the folds, the crossbow slung across his back. The dead men's coin pouch weighed lightly at his hip.

Four silver. Nine copper. It wasn't much. But for a nobody in a nowhere town? It was enough.

[System Notice: Threat Assessment — Low. Social Integration Recommended.]

Aelric huffed quietly. "Nice to know you care now."

The runes pulsed faintly at the edges of his vision, but no reply came. The System wasn't a companion. Just a tool. One he'd use without apology.

He stepped out of the woods.

The guards barely glanced his way as he approached, their eyes glazed with the same resignation Aelric had seen on starving farmers, on beaten refugees, on himself… once.

"Another stray from the valleys?" one muttered. His accent was rough, local.

"Border's been busy since the winter raids," the other replied, voice flat. "Just get inside."

Aelric inclined his head slightly — meek, harmless — and walked past them into Veyndale.

The streets were muddy, slushy tracks between leaning wooden buildings. Chickens clucked under porches. Smoke curled from cracked windows.

People moved about with wary, measured steps — a young woman in patched wool carried a basket of kindling; a one-armed blacksmith hammered at a dented horseshoe; a gaggle of wide-eyed children peeked at him from behind a fence.

No soldiers. No priests. No banners of noble houses.

Perfect.

But what caught Aelric's attention wasn't the people. It was the board nailed to the center square's well.

Worn parchment fluttered in the breeze, scrawled with crude handwriting.

WORK AVAILABLE:— Snow-clearing: 1 copper/day— Woods-gathering: 2 copper/day— Rat-catching: Negotiable— Hunters needed (High Risk)

Beneath that, another faded notice, the ink smudged by weather:

MISSING: Young woman, red hair, green eyes. Last seen near the Frost Hollow. Reward offered.

Aelric's eyes narrowed. The Frost Hollow. The name prickled at the edges of his fractured memory — System-fed knowledge filtering through.

A dangerous place. Twisted magic. Wild beasts. The kind of place desperate fools went… and vanished.

He wasn't desperate. Yet.

But the hunter job? The missing girl? Opportunity. Reputation. Coin.

And reputation was worth more than silver right now.

As he turned from the board, a voice called out — rough, feminine, but not unkind.

"New face."

Aelric pivoted, hand brushing the hilt beneath his furs.

A woman leaned against the well's stone rim. Mid-thirties, sharp brown eyes, sun-weathered skin. A short sword at her hip, a hunter's cloak dusted with snow. Not pretty, not soft — but steady.

"You look half-dead," she observed, scanning him. "Starving or freezing?"

Aelric's lips curled faintly. "Both."

She snorted. "Figures. You'll fit right in." She offered a calloused hand. "Rhea. Local guide. Occasional problem-solver. You?"

Aelric considered. Truth? Lies? Something between?

"Aelric," he settled on. No need for the old surname. That life was ash.

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Just Aelric?"

"For now."

Her lips quirked, amused. "Mysterious. Dangerous. I like it." She tilted her head toward the board. "You planning on starving, or working?"

Aelric's gaze drifted back to the parchment. The Frost Hollow job whispered promises — danger, yes, but challenge… and growth.

And gods knew, he needed both.

"I'll work," he replied.

Rhea's smile widened. "Smart choice."

In the distance, church bells tolled weakly — old, cracked, more tradition than authority.

No gods watching. No chains.

Just the snow, the cold… and him.

And for the first time since death, Aelric felt… alive.

...

The tavern was called The Hollow Hearth, which was generous naming.

It was a squat, timber-framed building that sagged under the weight of snow like a tired ox. The sign above the door swung on rusted chains, creaking in the wind. Smoke trickled from a crooked chimney, carrying the scent of woodsmoke, stale ale… and something faintly herbal.

Inside, it was warmer, if not welcoming. The hearth fire crackled weakly in the stone pit, shadows dancing along the warped walls. A handful of locals hunched over drinks, their conversations low, eyes wary.

Rhea led Aelric to a table in the corner, her boots thudding on the uneven floorboards. She flagged down the barkeep with two fingers raised — one for herself, one for him.

The barkeep, a heavyset man with thinning hair and eyes like cold mud, grunted and poured two mugs of thin ale.

Aelric nursed his drink, the bitter liquid burning faintly in his hollow stomach. It wasn't satisfying, but it was warmth.

"New to the Borderlands?" Rhea asked, watching him over her mug.

Aelric shrugged. "You could say that."

She didn't pry. Smart woman.

Instead, her gaze drifted to the parchment he'd taken from the job board. The Frost Hollow notice.

"You planning to chase ghosts, or actually make coin?"

"What's the difference?"

Rhea snorted into her ale. "Fair point." She leaned back, studying him properly now — eyes sharp, weighing him. "Frost Hollow chews up greenfolk. Whole families vanish out there. Magic's wrong. Beasts worse. The last group that went after the missing girl… didn't come back."

"Locals still posting a reward."

"Desperation's a hell of a thing."

Aelric traced the rim of his mug with a finger, mind ticking. Risk, yes — but the system whispered opportunity. He needed reputation. Coin. Growth.

He needed to stop being prey.

"Tell me about the girl," he said finally.

Rhea sighed, running a hand through wind-tangled hair. "Name's Lyra. Hunter's daughter. Red hair, green eyes. Stubborn as a mule. Thought she could trap snowhares on her own to help feed her family."

"Got lost?"

"Or worse. That place isn't normal."

Aelric's gaze sharpened. "Be specific."

Rhea hesitated, eyes darting briefly to the other patrons — as if the walls themselves might eavesdrop. She lowered her voice.

"Frost Hollow… doesn't follow the old rules. Paths twist. Shadows move wrong. Some folk hear whispers at night. Others… don't come back the same."

Aelric's spine prickled faintly. The System hummed at the edges of his vision — subtle, but present. His fractured integration… it responded to certain magics. Wild, unstable places like this? Perfect. Dangerous, but perfect.

"Anyone seen beasts? Monsters?"

"Wolves too big for their tracks. Birds that shouldn't be here this season. Some say they've seen shadows with… eyes."

"Superstition."

"Maybe." But Rhea's mouth was tight. "Or maybe something older."

Aelric considered. His old life in the central realms — all faith and temples and chained fate — had dismissed such tales. But out here, on the edge of the kingdoms? Reality bent easier.

He finished his drink, rising. The floor swayed faintly under him — hunger and fatigue still gnawed at his frame — but his mind was steady.

"Where's her family?"

"Last house before the east woods," Rhea replied, watching him closely. "You really planning on doing this?"

"I've survived worse."

"Have you?"

Aelric's lips curled faintly. "I'm still breathing."

Rhea barked a dry laugh, standing as well. "Fair enough. Tell you what — you check in with her family, I'll meet you by the eastern trail tomorrow at first light. You'll want someone who knows the paths."

Aelric inclined his head. Smart. Cautious. But not soft. He liked her already.

He stepped out into the snow, the chill biting deep — but no longer unbearable. The furs helped. The blade at his hip helped more.

Ahead, the eastern edge of Veyndale waited — crooked houses, frost-rimed fields… and beyond that, the dark silhouette of the Frost Hollow forest.

A place of danger. Of whispered magic.

And maybe, just maybe… his first step toward breaking fate's chains.

The System flickered softly in his mind.

[Quest Updated: Search for Lyra — Active.][System Sync: Environmental Anomaly Detected. Potential for Growth Opportunity — High.]

Aelric's eyes narrowed as the snow swirled around him.

Opportunity, indeed.