The young man did not hear the warning that was being given to him. He just kept walking at the same steady pace. Even as a drunk, each step was strong and purposeful, not at all like the unstable gait that usually came from drinking.
However, it was easy to miss this detail in the darkness. Nobody in the camp watched him very carefully.
"Don't worry about that drunkard," one of the men reassured the person who called out, "he left like this last night as well, wandering off into the Ghost Whispering Forest. Who knows what he experienced, but by morning he was already back, still drinking. He seems like someone who is seeking death. For someone with a death wish, warnings are useless."
Around the camp, most people were watching quietly, but a few among them sparked up a conversation.
"Does he ever stop drinking? I haven't seen him without the bottle."
"I've only seen him filling it up and drinking more, never putting it down."
"What do you think happened to him? A man like that must have a story, and he is so young as well. Did his wife die? Or perhaps he was expelled from his family!"
"From all the grime, I could not even guess his age!"
"My silver says that his child was eaten by a beast. That is why he keeps wandering into the forest, hoping to meet the same fate."
"Or hoping to seek the beast out and kill it."
"All answers might be correct. It takes more than just a single tragedy to reduce someone to that level."
"Has he really been doing this for the entire time?"
"I say good riddance, I hope a beast really does eat him."
"A man like that, who drinks from dusk till dawn, will not be missed. If he has any family left, it is a wonder if they didn't abandon him. I imagine he is a parasite, eating and drinking them out of house and home before he was kicked out."
With the young man's disgusting appearance and unsocial behavior, it was unsurprising that he had been ostracized by various groups. Still, the rancor with which certain passengers discussed him was still surprising to some. A few spoke up on his behalf.
"Is he really all that bad?"
"We should just let him be!"
"Apart from the disgusting sight, I just feel pity for him."
"Does anyone know where he came from?"
A perceptive woman spoke up. "They picked him up in Lake Town. From what I remember, he just appeared for the caravan. There was nobody with him, nobody who knew him. I asked the others from Lake Town, and nobody had even seen him before that day. My guess is that he is a wanderer, though where he got the silver from is a mystery. Whether he was a bandit or a dispossessed noble, only he would know."
"Does anyone know his name?"
The woman replied immediately. "No, not even the Lake Town people know."
"I can attest to that," one of the passengers who was from Lake Town responded. "He just appeared at the agreed-upon site. I assume he spoke to the leaders before that, because they did not kick up a fuss. But I personally had never seen him until that moment, not even on the streets."
"What a strange man. Is he really a beggar?"
"Have you ever seen a beggar that drinks so much?"
Deep in the forest, the young man had already escaped the noise and light of the camp. He was sitting down against an ancient tree, taking swigs out of his bottle.
Different thoughts moved through his mind, one by one, like passing clouds. He was a painful haze, and only the drink would soothe him.
Suddenly, he drew his sword in one beautiful motion, too fast for the eye to follow. His dull gaze became sharp, and his stance bore all of the grace of a true expert.
If any of the passengers were there to witness the sight, they would be stunned.
The drunkard was a Master all along!
The steel gleamed in the moonlight. It was well-maintained, striking a sharp contrast with his own disheveled appearance.
"Mastery, mastery," the young man called out, his voice bitter, "can anything ever truly be mastered?"
The young man once heard his master describe enlightenment as a special state one could attain through attunement with the world. In order to reach it, one's consciousness needed to transcend the mundane and merge with the laws of nature.
However, the words 'transcend the mundane and merge with the laws of nature' were lofty and vague. Who could understand such things from verbal transmission? And even if one could, then who could perform that transcension on command?
The young man called out in his heart, trying to pierce the veil, but all he felt was a raw pain in his stomach.
He stood still for what seemed like hours, staring intently at the trees in front of him in a trance. For a Master, maintaining such a posture was effortless.
Then, he was broken out of it. The bushes in front of him were rustling.
Like a predator locking in on its prey, his eyes narrowed and locked in on the movement.
"Come out, little beastie," the young man called.
The bushes were silent. The young man stared for a few more moments before looking away.
"I don't blame you."
The young man slumped back down against the tree and drank deeply from his bottle. "I don't blame you," he muttered again.