The moment Aldric asked to join, three of the men in the group turned their faces toward him.
The first one was a man with blonde hair. He looked refined and wore flowing gold robes that gave off an elegant aura. Even though he wasn't wearing armor, his presence carried weight, like someone who had confidence in his abilities.
The second man had platinum-colored hair and was dressed in steel armor. The armor itself looked old, a bit weathered and scratched, almost like it had been passed down or used for years. Yet, despite its condition, it still gave off the impression of a fighter who relied on practicality rather than appearance. Aldric thought he looked dependable, like someone who had seen more battles than he cared to count.
The third man stood out the most. He was the one who walked forward when Aldric approached. His armor was different from the others, designed like blue fish scales that shimmered faintly under the sunlight. He clearly wasn't ordinary. His movements were calm, his steps measured. He didn't look overbearing, nor did he appear submissive. He carried himself with balance, someone who naturally took the lead without needing to shout or assert dominance.
This man introduced himself as Clet, the de-facto leader of the group.
Aldric gave a slight nod of respect as their eyes met.
The atmosphere around them eased a little, and soon the others gave their introductions as well.
The man in flowing gold robes spoke first. "Name's Lionel," he said in a straightforward tone. His voice matched his clothing—refined, but still relaxed.
The one in the steel armor followed. "Adrian," he said simply, not bothering to say anything more.
Clet didn't give his full name, only repeating what Aldric already knew. "Clet. We're heading out soon."
From the way they introduced themselves, Aldric could already sense some things. Lionel seemed like the type who valued appearances but wasn't arrogant. Adrian appeared practical and perhaps quiet. Clet was steady, the type of person others would naturally follow.
Clet then explained the situation further.
It turned out there was a caravan that had formed recently and was currently accepting people. The caravan was traveling in the direction of Duskendale. Many groups of travelers, mercenaries, and wandering arcanists were banding together for safety, and Clet's group was one of them.
Aldric listened carefully. This was better than he expected. Traveling with a caravan meant more protection and less risk of being singled out. It also meant fewer problems with food and water since caravans usually had a system for that. Of course, there would be dangers, but the risk was much lower than traveling alone or with only a few people.
"Sounds good," Aldric said. "I'll join you."
Clet gave him one long look, then nodded. "Fine. Just know that we're not here to babysit. Everyone pulls their weight. If you can do that, there won't be any problems."
Aldric accepted without hesitation. "Understood."
The decision was made, and just like that, Aldric became part of their small group.
They walked together toward the part of the settlement where the caravan was preparing to leave. Wagons were lined up in rows, merchants shouting, guards moving around, and horses neighing as they were being tied into position. The air was filled with the noise of people negotiating, organizing, and shouting orders.
Aldric followed alongside Clet, Lionel, and Adrian. He noticed there were many other groups just like theirs—strangers who had decided to team up. Some of them were clearly mercenaries for hire. Others looked like wandering adventurers. There were even a few robed arcanists traveling with hired guards.
It was a chaotic scene, but there was order within the chaos. The caravan leader, a burly man with a commanding voice, stood at the front and barked instructions. From the looks of it, he had been doing this for years.
Soon, the caravan started organizing the different groups into positions. Some were placed near the front, some in the middle, and some near the rear. Aldric's new group was assigned a spot somewhere in the middle, which was a good position—safe, protected, and not too exposed.
As Aldric settled in, he quietly observed his new companions. Lionel was talking casually with one of the merchants, probably negotiating or simply showing off his refined manners. Adrian was silent, cleaning his weapon and checking his armor straps. Clet stood calmly, surveying the area, his gaze sharp and watchful.
Aldric felt satisfied with his choice. These three didn't seem reckless or arrogant. They looked reliable. For now, that was enough.
He didn't reveal much about himself, of course. He only said he was a wandering arcanist traveling back toward Duskendale, nothing more. It was a half-truth, but it was safer that way.
As the sun began to lower, the caravan was finally ready. Wagons started moving, wheels creaking, and horses trotting forward in unison. The long journey toward Duskendale had begun.
Aldric walked alongside his new group, his eyes scanning the road ahead. He felt the weight of his newly forged katana at his side and the reassuring weight of his storage artifact carrying supplies. For the first time in his life, he wasn't a powerless slave being dragged along. He was walking on his own two feet, by his own choice, as part of something bigger.
Whatever dangers lay ahead, he was ready.
And so, Aldric and his new companions joined the caravan on its path toward Duskendale.