Dawn bled across the river valley as the wagons creaked to a halt. The River Pact's base sprawled along the muddy banks—tents of oiled canvas and stitched beast hides breathing in the morning mist.
There were no walls, no palisades—just a temporary gathering of merchant stalls and cookfires, heavy with the smell of seared meat and damp earth.
AJ pulsed softly on Lily's shoulder as they dismounted the wagon. "It's like a festival," he murmured.
Sam's boots sank into the soft earth. The camp stirred to life around them—merchants rolling up tent flaps, apprentices stoking breakfast fires, guards stretching sleep from their limbs.
The centre of the camp was already thick with early shoppers drifting between stalls.
The team gathered by a cluster of supply crates. AJ pulsed faintly as he laid out their available materials onto a folded cloth—several plants they'd collected, a container of healing salve, and a some Ravager scales and claws.
"This should be able to buy us some goodies," Lily said, arranging the items carefully.
Ethan scooped up some bits with a grin. "I'll look at the weapons. Might get ideas for upgrades."
Victor took his share without comment and moved towards the mineral vendors, eyes already scanning for rare materials AJ could replicate.
Walter adjusted his coat and disappeared into the outer ring of tents, where information changed hands in whispers and smoke.
Ethan made his way over to a nearby stall where weapon racks stood. "Let's see what passes for craftsmanship out here."
A grizzled artisan sat behind a display of handmade tools—flint-tipped arrows, chisels shaped from bone, and war axes with hafts wrapped in sinew. The stall was crowded with onlookers admiring the stonework, but Ethan wasn't buying—he was studying.
He crouched by a rack of obsidian blades, eyes narrowing. "This sharpness... not bad. If AJ can recreate that we could slice through almost anything."
Meanwhile, Lily lingered at a shaded stall where herbs and roots hung from a woven canopy. Clay dishes held seeds no larger than a fingernail—mana-bloom, ghost grass, whisper-root. She crouched beside a mortar stained violet and frowned.
"These have traces of... something familiar," she murmured, brushing her fingertips across the surface.
A woman with bark-coloured braids stirred a pot over a low flame. "Focus tea," she said, waving a ladle. "One sip and you'll count every grain of sand in the riverbed."
Not far off, Walter weighed a crooked root labelled Earth-Tap, frowning as he looked at the price. "This shouldn't be out in the open," he muttered. "Someone could take off running with these."
Victor gravitated towards the mineral stalls along the eastern edge, his expression unreadable. A stout man guarded his wares beneath a canopy of stitched lizard hide.
Raw chunks of astralite crystals, palm-sized nuggets of obsidian steel, and clay bowls filled with shimmering powders.
Victor scanned the display without a word, selecting a sample of fine blue sand and a small chunk of astralite. The merchant raised an eyebrow but didn't speak—he knew a serious buyer when he saw one.
At the camp's centre, a larger pavilion loomed beneath silk banners stamped with the River Pact's wave insignia.
Two armed guards flanked the open flaps, offering a glimpse inside: racks of iron blades, a steel-tipped spear mounted on the wall, and copper jewellery etched with strange runes.
The camp buzzed around them—haggling voices, the clink of tokens, the snorts of tethered Stoneback beasts.
For all its makeshift nature, there was structure here, and a strange sense of balance. Even the chaos felt curated.
Sam stayed beside AJ, watching the ebb and flow of the camp.
"Time to see what our knowledge is worth," he said, rolling up his sleeves.
At a stall shaded by sun-faded scrolls, a thin merchant with ink-stained fingers looked up. "Looking to trade?" he asked. "Maps, local flora, even gossip—if the price is right."
Sam eyed the merchant's tent and the various wares that were on display. "I'm trading information."
The merchant's eyes sharpened. "What kind?"
"First-hand knowledge of the Obsidian Obelisks. In exchange, I want information on the location of the Obsidian Sect's recent digging operation. I'll be buying a map mark the area on it."
The man's fingers went still. "You're either very brave or very stupid," he muttered, then gestured for Sam to speak.
Sam offered only what he intended to—enough to stir curiosity, but not enough to compromise the team.
He described the obelisks, the side effects of exposure, and hinted at the whispers of knowledge. Nothing about cultivation. Nothing about the deeper secrets the obelisks held.
The merchant listened intently, then reached beneath the table and withdrew a rolled parchment. "Here's your map," he said, passing it over.
"Here—" he tapped a fresh ink mark near Titan's Spine, which was the name of the mountain range they were heading towards. "—this is where the Sect is digging."
Sam's held onto the map. The ink was fresh. Hours old, maybe.
"What else do you know—"
"Come back tomorrow," the merchant interrupted, already waving in the next customer. "Bring more information or something else that can pique my interest."
---
By dusk, the team reconvened near the water's edge. Their haul spread across a blanket of thick fabric, catching the glow of the setting sun.
Ethan had returned with an obsidian-edged skinning knife and a one-handed axe—not for use, but for reverse engineering.
Victor laid down a chunk of raw astralite and a pouch of fine blue sand.
Walter offered up a collection of rumours—Pact members exhibiting boosts in strength, particularly near certain campsites.
Lily held samples of dried plants with subtle mana traces.
Sam unfolded the map, its markings glowing faintly in the fading light.
AJ pulsed as he examined their gains. "We learned more than we spent," he said, his words melting together slightly with fatigue. "We're going to have to cough up more resources tomorrow."
Sam stared at the mark near Titan's Spine, brows drawn tight. Whatever the Obsidian Sect was searching for... it wasn't ordinary. It was something worth them putting in so much effort. That meant it was something worth taking a look at.
---
The last of the sun dipped behind the hills, casting long shadows across the camp. Lanterns flickered to life—some oil-fed, others lit by faint mana glow.
The stalls remained open, now washed in a softer, more secretive kind of light. Deals made in the dark rarely came cheap.
They stayed near the river that night, settling against a cluster of rocks just far enough from the main bustle to breathe.
The Stoneback beasts grumbled softly at their tethers nearby, occasionally snorting clouds of warm mist into the cool air.
Sam studied the map by lantern light, his voice a low mutter as he tracked the line between their current location and the marked dig site near Titan's Spine.
"We're not that far... and we're heading in that direction anyway." He said.
Walter leaned over his shoulder, tapping his cane against the ground in a slow rhythm. "Could be worth taking a look at."
AJ rested nearby, quietly digesting one of the astralite samples. "There's something off about this material. It's like it's remembering something."
Victor, sat nearby with a whetstone, not looking up from his blade. "If the people are using astralite they must have probably discovered something."
"We could ask," Ethan said with a crooked smile. "Kick in their front door and see what falls out."
"No," Sam said firmly. "We don't want to cause trouble for ourselves."
They fell into silence for a while, the low hum of the camp rising in the distance. Laughter. Metal clinks. Crackling fires. It felt like the edge of civilisation—and a reminder that civilisation hadn't disappeared but changed.
---
Later that night, Lily slipped away from the others, drawn by the scent of steeped herbs and the low rhythm of drums.
She found a cluster of Pact members gathered around a wide firepit, sharing food and stories. A tall woman with braided silver hair was handing out cups of steaming liquid. She offered one to Lily without hesitation.
"Bloodfruit and Earth-Tap," she said. "Good for memory and relaxing."
Lily hesitated, then accepted with a polite smile, though she wouldn't drink something given to her by a stranger. She sat at the edge of the circle, listening.
The stories came slowly—fishing hauls gone wrong, creature sightings upriver, arguments between trade caravans—but beneath the surface ran something else: tension.
"...and now the Blackpath runners are threatening to cut the trade bridge unless we give up part of the mountain route," one man grumbled.
"They won't risk open conflict," another replied, voice low. "Not with the Obsidian Sect being so active. No one wants to draw their attention and be the first to bleed."
Lily's fingers tightened around the cup.
---
While Lily eavesdropped and Victor dozed with one eye half-open, Walter sat with Sam near the edge of the firelight, both of them nursing warm tea in ceramic mugs.
"The Pact won't last," Walter said, his voice never rising above a murmur.
Sam blinked. "They seem well organised."
Walter tapped the side of his cup with a thoughtful rhythm. "For now. But they're stretched. Traders, mercenaries—there's no glue holding them together besides survival. No vision."
Sam stared into the darkness, thoughtful.
"Even we've got one," Walter added. "Though we're still figuring out the shape of it."
"I'm not trying to build anything yet."
"You don't have to," Walter said. "The world's breaking down and reshaping itself without you. The only choice you have is whether you want to guide it—or get buried under it."
Sam didn't reply right away. Somewhere behind them, the wind shifted, and a child's laughter echoed briefly across the camp.
---
Just past midnight, AJ's voice echoed in their minds. "Movement. Doesn't seem hostile but they're getting closer."
Victor was already rising to his feet, hand drifting towards his blade. Sam nodded, and the two of them quietly stepped away from the fire.
A figure stood at the edge of the shadows between tents—a woman draped in layered fabrics, face hidden behind a pale, soot-dusted veil.
She raised a hand slowly, palm open. "I don't mean harm."
Sam gestured for Victor to wait, then approached.
"You've drawn attention," the woman said softly. Her voice had a strange cadence—faintly musical, yet rough. "There are people here who make it their business to know who's new and why they're here."
"Are you one of them?" Sam asked.
"No," she said. "But I listen."
Sam's gaze didn't waver. "Then what do you want?"
"To offer a trade. One question answered—for some information in return."
Victor exhaled slowly, but said nothing.
Sam gave a slight nod. "Ask."
The woman tilted her head. "How does the slime speak?"
Sam blinked. "He just does."
She didn't react. "One of the Pact's inner circles—The River's Eye—has been watching you since you arrived. They want to know if you've made contact with an obelisk."
Sam's voice dropped. "Why?"
"Because they fear anyone who's interacted with them."
She took a step back into the dark.
"If I were you," she said, "I'd watch what you ask and how you answer. At least until you understand the questions being asked."
Then she vanished between the tents.
Sam turned to the others, silent for a long time. Only after everyone else had settled did he speak.
"We need to move more carefully tomorrow," he whispered. "Don't reveal any more information."
Everyone agreed to keep a low profile, keep to window shopping, and only buy what was necessary.
Sam lay back against his pack, eyes open, watching the stars blink into view. The camp's rustle and bustle continued well into the night.