I spent two days at Elms's farm, enough time for my worst wounds to begin healing and to regain some strength. The old man was gruffly kind, providing me with food and a safe place to sleep in his barn. In return, I helped him mend some fences and chop wood, simple tasks that reminded me of my old life, but without the accompanying humiliation.
The wolf pelts and some of the dried meat brought in a few more coins when a traveling merchant passed by the farm. I now had a small purse, enough to survive for a while without immediate hunting. But the urge to accumulate Avarice Points, to unlock that "Animal Agility" skill, never left me. With my "Assimilation Voracity" now at 2, I was curious to see if absorbing essence would be faster or more efficient.
Elms advised me to head towards the village of Ford-Flower, a day's walk to the east. It was a slightly larger trading hub where I might more easily find work as a hunter, or perhaps sell my services for other tasks. The idea of mingling with a larger community a bit, because of the Saintly Knights, but remaining isolated wasn't a long-term solution.
I thanked the old farmer warmly for his hospitality and set off again, my pack a little heavier, my body still sore but my spirits lifted. I was Falko, the Novice Hunter, and I had a direction.
The path to Ford-Flower followed the course of a winding river. The landscape was pleasant, less hostile than the deep forest where I'd faced the wolves. I passed a few travelers, merchants with their heavily laden carts, pilgrims obstáculos towards some unknown shrine. With each encounter, I remained on guard, observing carefully, ready to react to the slightest sign of danger.
My new face seemed to be doing its job; no one stared at me with particular suspicion.
It was late afternoon, as I was looking for a place to ford the river, that I saw her. A young woman was crouching by the water's edge, absorbed in gathering aquatic plants. She had long, dark brown hair, braided with a few wildflowers, and wore simple, earth-toned clothes. A leather satchel hung at her hip, overflowing with herbs and vials.
She hadn't heard me approach. I stopped a few paces away, not wanting to startle her. She seemed so focused on her task, her nimble fingers delicately picking stems and leaves. An aura of calm and knowledge emanated from her.
Suddenly, she looked up, as if she had sensed my presence. Her eyes, an intense forest green, met mine. There was no fear in her gaze, only a quiet curiosity.
"Good day, traveler," she said in a soft but clear voice. "Are you looking for the ford? It's a little further on, where the rocks break the surface."
I was surprised by her composure. Most people, especially women alone, would have been more wary of an armed stranger.
"Good day," I replied, trying to sound as casual as she did. "Yes, thank you. My name is Falko."
"Lyra," she responded with a slight smile. "An herbalist by trade. And you, Falko, what brings you to our lands?"
Her directness disarmed me a little. "I'm a hunter. I'm heading to Ford-Flower, looking for work."
She nodded, her gaze sweeping over my gear, lingering for a fraction of a second on the bandages still visible beneath my sleeve.
"A hunter. Times are hard for everyone. Wild beasts are growing bolder, and men… sometimes worse."
There was a hint of melancholy in her voice that intrigued me. "You seem to know the region well," I said.
"I grew up here," Lyra replied. "The forest and the river are my gardens.
They provide me with everything I need for my preparations." She gestured to her satchel. "Remedies, potions… and sometimes, things a little less… benevolent, if necessity dictates." A mischievous glint flashed in her green eyes.
I was fascinated. She was unlike any woman I'd ever known. Her knowledge of plants seemed profound, and she wasn't afraid to show it. An idea came to me.
"Tell me, Lyra the herbalist…" I began hesitantly. "Do you ever prepare… ointments or potions that could help heal wounds? Mine are recent, and I'd like to prevent infection."
She examined my arm with a professional eye, though without touching me. "Wolf bites, by the looks of it. You were lucky. Yes, I can prepare something for that. I have just what I need right here."
She opened her satchel and began to select various herbs and roots. Her movements were precise, assured. As she worked, we continued to talk. She asked me about my travels, without being intrusive, and I told her about my (false) life as an itinerant hunter, carefully omitting the more dangerous details of my recent past.
As she prepared a poultice, my gaze was drawn to a small, intensely blue flower she took from her satchel. A discreet notification appeared in my vision:
[Target: Silent Moonflower (Quality: Rare). Contains Soothing Essence and a faint echo of Lunar Essence.]
"Rare"! And "Lunar Essence"? It was the first time I'd seen such a description. An irresistible urge to touch the flower, to absorb its essence, seized me. It was the hunger of Avarice, more subtle this time, but just as insistent.
I fought against the impulse. Lyra was helping me. To steal, even a mere "essence," from someone who was being kind to me… it repulsed me. This was a different kind of test than the wolves. A moral test.
Lyra noticed me staring at the flower. "This one? It's a Silent Moonflower. Very rare. It only blooms on nights of the full moon, in hidden places. It has extraordinary soothing properties." She smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to use all of it on you. It's too precious."
She finished her poultice, a greenish mixture with a fresh, herbaceous scent. "There. Apply this to your wounds. It should help with healing and prevent infection."
I thanked her sincerely, taking a few coins from my purse. "How much do I owe you?"
She shook her head. "Nothing at all, Falko. Consider it a gesture of welcome. And perhaps one day, if I need a hunter for a particular task, I'll know where to find you in Ford-Flower."
Her generosity touched me. It was so different from the cruelty and indifference I had known. I put my coins away, a little ashamed of my avaricious impulse moments earlier.
"Thank you, Lyra. I won't forget," I said.
We parted ways soon after. She resumed her plant gathering, and I headed towards the ford she had indicated. As I crossed the river, the cool water ноги my legs, I thought back to our encounter. Lyra was an intriguing person. Her knowledge, her calmness, her kindness… she was a point of light in this dark world.
And that Silent Moonflower… the temptation had been strong. The System of Avarice seemed to encourage me to take, to accumulate, indiscriminately. But I had resisted. Was it a weakness? Or a sign that, despite this strange power, a part of the old Konrad remained within me, a part that yearned for something more than the mere satisfaction of avarice?
I didn't know yet. But as Ford-Flower appeared in the distance, a new question joined the turmoil in my thoughts: how was I going to reconcile the insatiable hunger of my System with the necessity of living among men, and perhaps, of trusting again? The path of the lone hunter was perhaps more complex than I had imagined.
The sun was beginning to set when I finally reached the first houses of Ford-Flower. The village was larger than the hamlet where I'd stopped before, with a busier main street lined with shops and artisan stalls. People bustled about, their conversations mingling with the sound of hammers on an anvil from a blacksmith's shop and the calls of merchants hawking their wares.
The atmosphere was more hurried, more impersonal too. I immediately felt more exposed, despite my new face. Every passerby was a potential gaze, every town guard a possible threat. I instinctively tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword, a gesture that had become almost second nature.
I found a modest inn, "The Laughing Boar," whose sign depicted a gleefully grinning wild pig, which struck me as a bit forced in its optimism. The interior was noisy and crowded. I took a room for the night, paying with some of the money Elms had given me.
The room was small and spartan, but it had a bed, which was a luxury after my nights spent roughing it.
After dropping off my bag, I went down to the common room, hoping to glean some information about work opportunities. I ordered a cheap ale and sat at an isolated table, straining to hear the surrounding conversations.
There was much talk of harvests and market prices, but also, and this caught my attention, of recent "troubles" in the nearby forests. Rumors of bandits, of creatures more aggressive than usual. This was exactly the kind of information I was looking for. Where there were problems, there was often a need for someone to solve them.
And problems solved meant rewards. And rewards meant potential Avarice Points.
I also noticed, with a pang in my heart, another wanted poster nailed to the wall, newer and better drawn than the one in the hamlet.
It still depicted Konrad, but the features were more precise, the resemblance more unsettling, despite my changed appearance. The bounty had increased. The Saintly Knights left nothing to chance. They wanted their "renegade servant," and they were willing to pay for him.
This sight strengthened my resolve not to draw attention to myself. I had to be Falko, the discreet and effective hunter, nothing more.
The next morning, after applying Lyra's poultice to my wounds – it had a pleasant scent and was already soothing the pain – I began to explore Ford-Flower more seriously. I went to the marketplace, observing the stalls, listening to the discussions.
I eventually found a notice board near the local reeve's house, where various announcements and requests were pinned. Most concerned farm work or artisan needs, but a few caught my eye:
"Experienced hunter sought to escort a merchant caravan through the Darkwood. Good pay. Inquire with Master Valerius, port warehouse."
"Bounty offered for the elimination of a goblin band terrorizing western farms. Proof required. See the Reeve."
"Information wanted regarding strange disappearances near the Old Monastery ruins. Discretion assured. Contact Elara at the library."
These three notices seemed interesting. Escorting a caravan sounded relatively safe, but perhaps less lucrative in terms of Avarice opportunities. Goblins, on the other hand, were a clear target, creatures to fight whose essence could be absorbed. As for the disappearances near the ruins, that smelled of mystery, and potentially danger – so, again, Avarice Points.
I had to choose wisely. My skills were still limited, and facing goblins alone, without knowing their numbers or strength, could be suicidal. The caravan escort was perhaps a good way to earn money and experience without taking too many immediate risks. And it would allow me to leave Ford-Flower, which wasn't a bad thing given the wanted posters.
I headed towards the port, a bustling area where boats docked to unload their goods. I easily found Master Valerius's warehouse. He was a middle-aged man with a sharp gaze and a direct manner.
When I offered my services, he looked me over , assessing my build, my sword, and undoubtedly, the determination in my eyes.
"Falko, is it?" he said. "You look young, but you have the build of a man who knows how to fight. The Darkwood is no walk in the park. Bandits, beasts… it takes nerves of steel and a sharp blade."
"I've dealt with wolves before," I replied soberly, without going into detail.
Valerius nodded. "Good. The caravan leaves the day after tomorrow, at dawn. There will be two other guards. Payment will be made upon arrival in Valbridge, about a week's march. If you're still interested, be here before sunrise."
I accepted. It was a concrete opportunity. A week's march was also another week further away from the active searches of the Saintly Knights in this region.
I spent the rest of the day preparing. I bought some extra provisions, a new waterskin, and a whetstone for my sword. Every coin spent was an investment in my survival.
That evening, returning to my inn room, I felt an insistent gaze on me. I spun around sharply, but saw no one suspicious in the crowd. Was it my imagination, or was the shadow of the Saintly Knights catching up to me? Paranoia was starting to become second nature.
I knew I couldn't run forever. Sooner or later, I would have to become strong enough to stop constantly looking over my shoulder. The System of Avarice was my only path to achieving that goal. And this caravan, this journey through the Darkwood, would be a new step in that quest for power. A step filled with dangers, no doubt, but also, I hoped, with new opportunities to feed the insatiable hunger growing within me.