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They mounted their horses after ensuring the starts of their saddle, and they trotted north out of town, following the road that headed north. The terrain changed gradually as they moved away from civilization, trees grew thicker, and the air a touch cooler. They entered through the dense woodland of Cumberland Forest was was a green ocean of pine and oak trees.
As they rode, they flagged down passing riders and wagons, asking about the Chelonians, white robed cultists who wandered like lost sheep preaching nonsense about turtles and salvation.
Most people just shook their heads and rode on, but eventually, an older woman in a buckboard said she saw a small group of them heading east toward the mountains.
"I saw five of 'em," she said. "Strange fellas. Didn't look right. One of 'em might've been a young boy, who looked nervous. Kept glancing around like he was being hunted."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like Jamie all right."
They thanked the woman and pressed on. The trail led them up toward Carmody Dell, a small, scattered homestead nestled among tall trees and rocky hills. The air was crisp, birds called overhead, and the muffled crunch of hooves on pine needles gave the ride an oddly reverent feel.
They asked another rider at Carmody Dell, a hunter with a mangy dog trotting behind his horse, if he'd seen any more white robed figures.
The man scratched his beard. "Yeah… saw 'em this mornin'. Headed up that trail there, toward the ridgeline up on the mountain. Said they were goin' to commune with the great turtle, whatever the hell that means. Told 'em to keep their turtle nonsense to themselves and keep off my traps."
Arthur looked to Caleb, then back to the trail.
"Well," he muttered, "looks like we're on the right track."
As they rode their horses, Caleb glanced sideways at his companion. Arthur was quiet, focused, and jaw set like iron. But there was something else too, a flicker of unease, maybe even guilt. Caleb recognized it. Arthur still cared. He might grumble and scowl, but deep down, he hadn't let go of Mary or her little brother.
That's what Caleb was counting on.
As Caleb thought so, They reached the top of the mountain a few minutes later. Both he and Arthur rode closer toward the camp area of the Chelonians. The wind at this elevation whispered through the trees, and the sounds of distant birds echoed off the cliffs.
There, gathered in a rough semi circle on the cliff's edge, were five Chelonians dressed in flowing white robes, with a big tent, a small tent, a clothesline, and a wagon filled with things behind the group of Chelonians. The two men dismounted quietly, boots crunching against soil and dry twigs.
That was when Caleb heard it, the low snort of horses to their left. He turned his head, eyes narrowing with sharp perception. Four horses were tied to a makeshift hitching post next to a moss covered rock.
One of them, a dark brown horse, stomped a hoof, clearly agitated. The others, two light bay, and one chestnut, stood quietly, heads low and reins slack. Caleb's eyes lingered on that dark brown horse. That would be the horse Jamie uses.
In the game, Jamie's escape had always been scripted, his horse spawning out of nowhere as he fled. But now, this world was real, and horses didn't just pop in and out of existence. These were their mounts. Their presence confirmed it.
Caleb stepped back a few paces, positioning himself several steps behind Arthur. He would let Arthur take the lead, just like in the game.
The encounter will go smoothly if Arthur chooses the right words. Caleb silently prayed that Arthur would charm the Chelonian Master instead of trying to intimidate him. The difference between a peaceful resolution and a dangerous scuffle might lie in just a few sentences.
The sun was overhead now, filtering through the sparse clouds and dappling the ground in flickering light. Arthur approached the group of Chelonians at the edge of the mountain cliff.
Five white robed figures. One man stood perfectly still, he looked like in his 50s or 60s and He appeared to be giving a sermon, though the exact words were lost on the breeze. Four others, three young men and one younger figure sat on the ground and a small chair before him in a half circle, their robes rustling lightly in the mountain air.
Caleb's eyes landed on the boy sitting on the far right. Jamie. There was no mistaking him now, the boy's tousled brown hair, slim frame, and awkward posture in his shoulders.
Arthur cleared his throat and strode forward confidently. His voice rang out across the clearing.
"Gentlemen, a moment of your time, please."
The words cut through the calm like a hawk's cry. The Chelonians paused. All five heads turned in unison, and their expressions shifted. Confusion. Caution. Wariness.
The seated men rose quickly, including Jamie. He blinked, startled recognition flashing across his face. His mouth moved soundlessly before forming a single name, "Arthur?"
The three adult Chelonians moved quickly, stepping in front of Jamie and the master, forming a human barrier. They held their hands together protectively and began muttering in unison, their voices low but insistent.
"Shell of safety… Shell of safety… Shell of safety…"
Arthur walked forward calmly, his eyes not on the disciples but on Jamie and the older man behind them. Caleb remained back, letting the moment play out exactly as it had once in the game. But the stakes here were far more real.
Arthur addressed the Chelonian Master directly.
"Can I speak to the boy, mister?"
The disciples didn't move, continuing their chant, but Jamie stepped forward slightly before being stopped by a hand across his chest.
"Arthur?" Jamie said again, louder this time, his voice thick with disbelief. "Is that really you?"
Arthur gave him a small smile, a familiar one, wry, knowing, just a touch sad. He nodded.
"Hello, Jamie. Your sister's worried sick about you. She asked me to come find you, to bring you home so you two can talk."
At this, the Chelonian Master stepped forward, parting the line of disciples like a river around a stone. His face was calm and unreadable, but his voice carried authority, aged but firm.
"The boy has chosen a path, sir," the Chelonian Master said. "A path of truth."
Arthur's expression shifted slightly letting out a chuckle, shaking his head as the hint of his old skepticism creeping into his tone. "Well… his sister just wanted to speak to him, that's all."
Jamie called Arthur's name once more, this time without hesitation, "Arthur!" He took another step forward, eyes flicking between Arthur and the Master.
"I've chosen a path," Jamie said, the words rushing from him like a defense. "I've thought about this. It makes sense. The world's… the world's so cruel and chaotic. I've found something here."
The disciple nearest him reached out, grasping him by the arm.
"You don't need to go, brother," the man said quietly.
Arthur tilted his head slightly. "Jamie… I ain't here to drag you by the ears. If you wanna believe in turtles, that's your choice. But you owe Mary a word. That ain't much to ask."
The Chelonian Master stepped forward again.
"The boy has chosen a path. He's chosen safety… What path have you chosen, sir?"
Caleb tensed behind Arthur, his hands curled just above the holster at his side. This was it. The pivotal moment. Charm or Intimidate. And in this world, where words could mean the difference between gunfire and peace, Caleb held his breath.
Arthur didn't respond right away. He looked past the Master, his eyes scanning the open cliff, the tents, the wagon filled with their belongings. He glanced at Jamie, then lowered his gaze for a second, thinking.
"I guess I'm… still searching. I guess," he finally said, voice quiet, but honest.
Caleb exhaled silently in relief as he thought, "Good. He took the peaceful route."
The Chelonian Master nodded slowly as he heard that.
"We are all searching," he said, as he spread his arm. "Chelonianism is about searching. What do we search for, do you think?"
Arthur's voice was softer now, more introspective.
"I don't know. I guess all of us are searching for safety? Safety… and meaning in our lives."
The Chelonian Master was quiet a moment, then smiled gently.
"You are wiser than you appear, sir. Many seek purpose without knowing what they seek at all. Jamie knows the truth, and of course, you may speak with him."
Arthur let out a relieved and happy smile, "Exactly," he said as he nodded his head. "If the teachings you gave are great, what harm can I do by speaking with the boy?"
Arthur then took a couple of steps toward Jamie gesturing for him to come with him, while the Chelonian disciples already stopped chanting, and lowered their guard as their master allowed Arthur to speak with Jamie.
But Jamie, just like in the game, took a couple of steps backward toward the edge of the cliff. His boots scraped against gravel, dislodging a few small rocks that tumbled down the sheer drop behind him.
He looked back, eyes wide, fearful, not of Arthur, but of what Arthur's presence meant. Of the confrontation he had hoped would never come.
"I'm… I'm not… I'm not coming with you, Arthur!" Jamie stammered, his voice cracking like a brittle branch in the wind.
And with that, he turned and ran. His robes flared behind him, feet pounding the earth as he sprinted toward the horses, the dark brown one specifically, his chosen steed.
Arthur took a few steps after him, caught off guard, one hand half raising as if to grab him, but stopped himself. His voice rang out after Jamie, torn between anger and desperation.
"Just come with me to speak with Mary, Jamie! Then make up yo—!"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Because standing between Jamie and the horses was Caleb Thorne.
Caleb hadn't moved until now. He had stayed back, letting Arthur handle it, respecting the natural rhythm of how the encounter was meant to play out. But when Jamie broke from the group and made a break for it, Caleb stepped forward like a gate that had quietly been waiting to close.
Jamie barely had time to react. He tried to juke past Caleb, aiming for the space between him and the horses' flanks, but Caleb reached out with both arms, caught him in mid step, and tackled him to the ground.
Jamie hit the dirt with a yelp, limbs flailing, robes tangling. "Get off me, mister! This ain't your business!"
But Caleb only chuckled, pinning Jamie down with practiced ease. "Oh, it's my business alright," he said, glancing toward Arthur. "Arthur's my friend, after all."
From the corner of his eye, Caleb saw movement. The Chelonian Master and his disciples had taken a few steps forward, alarmed by the scuffle. Their hands twitched at their belts, no weapons, but tension nonetheless.
Before things could spiral, Caleb lifted his head and called out loud and clear, "There's no need to worry, mister! I'll let the boy go after he stops struggling. We just came to talk, and him running away will complicate things for all of us. So don't worry, we're not gonna hurt him!"
The Chelonian Master paused mid step. The three disciples around him hesitated, eyes narrowing in confusion and concern, but they made no move forward. Whatever they were planning, intervention, retreat, confrontation, Caleb's assurance disarmed it for now.
Arthur turned slightly, following Caleb's gaze, and seemed surprised to see the Chelonians had nearly intervened. He looked back toward Caleb and Jamie, then quickly crossed the remaining distance to them.
When he reached the two, Arthur gave Caleb a small nod of thanks. "Appreciate that, Caleb," he said as he crouched beside Jamie and gently patted the boy's shoulder. "Jamie, stop struggling and we'll let you go."
Jamie's limbs were still flailing under Caleb's grip, but his breath was coming out in ragged pants now. He looked up at Arthur, then over to Caleb, realization dawning. He wasn't getting out of this, not by force. Not today.
Finally, Jamie let out a long sigh and went still. Caleb nodded and eased up, slowly releasing his hold. Arthur reached down, took Jamie by the arm, and together with Caleb helped the boy to his feet.
Jamie dusted himself off in silence. His cheeks were red from exertion and embarrassment. He didn't look at either of them as he muttered, "I should've just left before y'all showed up…"
Arthur led the way back to where their horses were waiting. Caleb walked slightly behind Jamie, not close enough to crowd him, but enough to stop another breakout attempt. The Chelonians didn't follow. They merely watched, the Master's eyes contemplative, the disciples murmuring softly to one another again.
When they reached the horses, Arthur turned to Jamie and crossed his arms. "You calmed down yet?"
Jamie huffed, turning away slightly, arms crossed. "Yeah," he said. "I'm calm. But you should've left me alone. I didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask anyone to come save me."
Arthur let out a long sigh, the weariness of it older than the mountains around them. "Come on, Jamie. You're a smart boy. You knew this was crazy. These people were just telling you what you wanted to hear."
Jamie's eyes snapped toward him, furious. "What do you know about it, Arthur?! You just popped outta nowhere after leaving me and Mary! I was doing just fine on my own! Making my own decisions!"
Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Caleb moved first.
He took two long steps forward, reached out, and rapped Jamie sharply on the top of the head with his knuckles.
"OW!" Jamie yelped, ducking and clutching his skull. "What the hell was that for?!"
"Caleb!" Arthur scolded, taking a half step between them. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Teaching some sense back into the boy," Caleb replied matter of factly, brushing his hands together like he'd knocked dust off a piece of furniture. "You said it yourself, he's a smart boy. So he oughta know why you left him and Mary. And everything you just said was the truth that he himself knew."
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 7/10
- Agility: 6/10
- Perception: 8/10
- Stamina: 7/10
- Charm: 5/10
- Luck: 6/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl 2)
- Rifle (Lvl 2)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl 2)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl 1)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl 1)
- Sneaking (Lvl 2)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl 2)
- Poker (Lvl 2)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl 1)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl 1)
- Dead Eye (Lvl 1)
- Bow (Lvl 2)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl 1)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl 0)
- Crafting (Lv1)
- Persuasion (Lvl 2)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
Money: 964 dollars and 93 cents
Bank: 320 dollars, 4 gold bars, a large bag of jewelry, and 3 gold nuggets