Empire of Shadows

33.

Vasco had no more plans.

He was fairly certain he'd been walking in near circles for the past two or three days, but he was pretty terrible at directions, so where he was was anyone's guess. He'd made it out alive from the run-in with royal guards that had managed to barely graze his calf with a bullet, all while stranding him in the middle of this hell called Polaria.

At this point, Polaria had lost all its charm and was instead looking like Vasco's personal hell. It was cold, the people were even colder, the food was a mix between unusual texture combinations and absolutely tasteless, and people were out to kill him. So needless to say, he was not having a fun time in Polaria.

Even now as he rambled on through the snow, he crossed his arms over his chest, face burrowed into his mounds of clothing. His leg stung, but he'd bandaged it and it had stopped bleeding a while back. It didn't look infected, which was a very good thing. He'd already lost Ketil, the rest of the Order, and his cards, and he didn't want to lose anything else to this country.

Some part of him thought that he should just go into Kampsden—not that he even knew which direction Kampsden was even in and he couldn't read a map to save his life. So he walked.

A part of him wished he hadn't spent most of his money on bandages and beer, but what could he do about the past? Maybe if he found another bejlen game he could remake some of that money, but until he even found a town, he was stuck wandering through the woods on a small path. He would be a disappointing victim if any highwaymen decided to rob him.

He whistled as he walked, kicking up the snow with his right foot. The pain in his left calf was nearly numb now, but it wasn't causing problems so who cared, certainly not him.

He whistled again, the noise echoing around him, only to copied by someone further up the trail. He walked faster, letting out another whistle.

The person ahead of him returned the whistle, just a note higher.

He turned a corner, watching a man in a rugged looking cape limp forward. His back was turned to Vasco, but he could tell he was in pain.

"Who are you?" Vasco shouted as the figure straightened up.

The person in front of him turned sharply, throwing down his hood. "Vasco?"

His eyes widened, "there's no way...Ketil!"

"Vasco!"

Vasco ran, barreling into him with an embrace. "We thought you were dead!"

"I am dead!"

"We thought you were dead dead!"

Ketil stepped back, letting out a wince as he laughed. "Just banged up and bruised, nothing I've never experienced before."

Vasco's eyes flitted around his face, staring at the bruises under his cheeks and the heavy circles under his eyes. "You look terrible."

"Oh, thanks."

"I mean that in the best possible way. But you're hurt."

"Vasco, you don't know the half of it. I've been nearly drowned, broken, bruised, shot with both arrow and bullet, stabbed, frozen, and on top of that I had to care for a child. I know nothing about children."

"A child? You have had a busy time in Polaria."

"Kaspar wasn't mine, of course, but..." he trailed off, his eyes cast down at the trampled snow. "I was responsible for the death of his parents and if I live through this, I'm going to take him as my own."