We reached our home, and as soon as we went to our rooms, Uncle grabbed me and shouted, "Did you know you could have died out there? How small must your brain be?" His eyes were wide with frustration, and he shook his head in disbelief. After a moment, his expression softened, and he let out a relieved sigh. "I respect your bravery though, kid," he said with a small, approving smile.
After that, I made sure I didn't venture into the forest alone. Never mind that I didn't even want to go there with backup, imagine how many more depraved entities reside there. It is their home, after all. A week had passed, and I managed to sneak a look at Uncle's map, realizing that we were on the continent of Novaria. The Great Plains were where I grew up, I could tell because the village of Granolia was highlighted by Uncle.
"The Holy Kingdom of Esturia," I muttered under my breath, staring at the map with a mix of awe and dread.
If Father had to be held anywhere, it would be there, especially in the capital, Sanctum Aurum. Then it dawned on me that traveling to the Mograin continent would be far easier than to Esturia. It would be a near-impossible task. The only reason I could tell that it was Esturia he was being held in was because of the kingdom's crest on the map. It was the same crest imprinted on the knights who had pinned down my father, forcing him on his knees. That image is still burned into my head.
"Tch," I blurted out loud, frustration evident in my voice.
Uncle came in and saw me with the map. His eyes narrowed in irritation as he immediately grabbed it from me. "Don't go snooping through my stuff, kid," he said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He stuffed the map into the pocket of his robe and gave me a stern look. "Go get ready; we are checking out of this place."
The three of us headed downstairs. Uncle thanked the innkeeper personally, with a nod and a warm smile that seemed to make the innkeeper's face light up. We set out on our journey, or so I thought. We traveled to another town on foot and checked into another inn. I had hoped this was the last time I would have to see of those rough timber beds and the smell of booze radiating from the tavern underneath us. It became clear from then on that we would have to suck it up and force ourselves to get used to these rather unpleasantry living conditions. Although I did mind, I understood that there were more pressing concerns than our comfort. Even Darius, who was so determined to do whatever it took to rescue our father, looked uncomfortable with our current situation. His brow furrowed as he glanced around the modest room.
We headed to our rooms, and this time, Constantine reiterated that we would be spending a month here. He spoke with a tone that suggested this was non-negotiable. This was perfect for me, as I had set a plan in motion to learn more about this world.
It was noon, and Uncle Constantine had passed out from the liquor he had consumed during the early hours of the day. I carried him to our room, grunting with effort as I maneuvered him through the door. I then made my way down the stairs. Sitting down on one of the tavern chairs, I requested water from the host, who was overseeing the tavern while the innkeeper was at the back. I handed him 50 Rapsos, equivalent to fifty pennies in our world, and received my share. The reason for this was to eavesdrop on the men at the back. Taverns are generally great places to overhear conversations, which means learning new information. This only occurred to me recently, so I should have done this from the start.
"There's a Hunter's Guild not far from here. We could earn serious money from taking down the Wendigo in the Northern Reaches," one man said excitedly, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
The men began to laugh at the one who proposed the idea. "Are you crazy? That Wendigo will feast on us," one man said, shaking his head and chuckling nervously.
You have to be an idiot to go and face whatever that thing is. Besides, no way in hell would I risk my life checking that thing out. No wonder this world has such a high death rate, a bunch of testosterone-filled men think they can battle anything, but it always turns out the opposite, and they become the prey of the thing they try to hunt.
"I'll take that thing on!" shouted a man wearing chain mail armor and sporting short, golden-blonde hair. He stood up, his chest puffed out with bravado.
Well, he does look prepared, I'll give him that. But thinking about the crazy lore about Wendigos from my world, I wondered if it's the same here. What if, each of the mythical and dark entities chalked up to mythology were actually real, and that people who got sent to this world managed to make their way back? It could be that I'm reaching for the stars here and clawing at anything to feed my nerdy desires. It was a success, I had just learned that there's something called a Hunter's Guild, meaning we can actually make money from hunting those things. I would have thought it would be called an Adventurer's Guild, like in those isekai light novels that everyone was going crazy about. I do remember coming across them from time to time. But nonetheless, I managed to hit the jackpot. With a satisfied grin, I walked back to my room, eager to share my discovery.
When I entered, Uncle was sprawled on the bed, looking half-asleep. With a slurred voice, he mumbled, "Who said you could go to the tavern, kid?" His eyes were half-lidded, barely open.
"Um, I'm sorry, Uncle Constantine," I said, trying to keep my tone respectful despite my excitement.
He waved his liquor bottle around with a drunken flourish and smirked, his rosy cheeks flushed from the liquor he had just consumed. It wasn't long before he passed out on the bed, snoring softly. To be perfectly honest, I didn't think our uncle would be this much of an alcoholic. Seriously, the man seemed to be draining his life force into that bottle. It was kind of concerning at first, but then I realized he was a man in his mid-thirties still trying to enjoy his life like he did in his adolescence. So, I couldn't really fault him for that.
Darius was probably training by himself again. I do admire him, his determination and will are something to be envied. I relaxed my muscles and sat down on my bed, putting my head back on my pillows. There I was, alone with my thoughts, and all I could think of was rescuing Dad and piecing together the broken fragments of our family. Now I understand why our parents kept us in an enclosed environment. They didn't want us to experience the horrors of this world. I mean, who knew there would be age-old supernatural creatures lurking around? Wait, can I even call them supernatural since they are part of this world's natural habitat?
Anyway, there's reason to believe that our mother or uncle won't tell us what's really going on. I would have to be a fool to believe that there's not some underlying problem that has resurfaced. The look on those men's faces when they had my father locked down, it was as if he had betrayed whatever they stood for in every single way. But at the same time, it did look forced, as if all they were doing were following orders from somebody. And to be blunt, I think whoever issued those orders was definitely in a predicament with my Father, and I will find out who. But I do wonder, am I an overthinker? I never fail to amuse myself with my tendency to delve into discrepancies and unravel them, just for them to be plain old nothing. Well, I guess paranoia does a number on you.