The morning fog clung to Nursa like a blanket, damp and heavy. Laxyie slung his coat over his shoulder and just when he was about to step out of the tavern.
"Remember, boy," Joll called after him, his ginger beard catching the sunlight, "the world is a bigger place than Nursa. Streets here are only the beginning. Keep your eyes open, and don't trust fools—or the quiet ones."
Laxyie grunted in response. He didn't need lectures. He already knew the streets were alive with danger.
Myúren appeared beside him, a warm smile on her face. "And don't forget… you're a good young man. No matter what roads you take, don't lose that."
He didn't reply, just nodded slightly. Words like that didn't need a response.
By the next morning, he was walking along the dirt road out of Nursa toward the trade route that led to Selam. His companion for the escort job, a merchant named Bol, waited by a cart stacked with crates. Bol was friendly enough, talkative in that easy way merchants always were, but Laxyie kept his distance, eyes scanning the road.
As they were about to set off, a small figure appeared from the alley where Laxyie had been observed the day before. A boy from before, no more than twelve, face pale with nervous energy.
"Wh-where are you going?" the kid stammered. His eyes were wide, almost pleading.
Laxyie didn't look at him. "Selam. What do you care?"
"I… I want to come with you," the kid said, voice shaking.
Laxyie stopped walking, finally turning to face him. "Go home."
The kid's lower lip trembled. "P-please… I'll be careful! I can carry things! I'll stay out of the way!"
Laxyie shook his head, starting to walk again. "I said go home."
The boy's eyes filled with tears. "I-I can't… please…"
For a moment, Laxyie stopped and let out a long sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine. I will not be paying for anything and will not be responsible for your life and don't slow me down. You follow my rules. If I tell you to run, you run. Got it?"
The boy's face lit up like a torch in the morning. "Yes! Thank you! I'll be careful, I promise!"
Laxyie glanced at him, expression neutral, eyes full of void but he didn't say anything. He could already tell this kid would be trouble.
"Let's go," he muttered, heading toward Bol's cart. The boy ran to keep up, stumbling over the uneven dirt path but grinning all the same.
And so, the small group set off toward Selam, the road stretching ahead of them through the rolling hills and forests of Zorka, full of unseen dangers and whispered stories. Laxyie didn't care about legends or monsters—not yet. For now, the journey was just survival, and keeping one step ahead of whatever trouble the road threw at him.