The cart jostles hard, and I bite my tongue so I don't let out the yelp of pain as my head hits whatever metal thing I'm resting against.
Crossing the town to reach the west gate was simple. All I did was keep my head down and stay away from places I knew friends of my dad, or mine, might be in. When I reached the caravan, it was the chaos of final loading, seeing to the animals that would pull them, and guards discussing stuff.
I made it to the largest cart already tarped, and when no one was paying attention, I slipped under it and made myself comfortable among the contents.
Tried to make myself comfortable. I picked the one filled with metal. Parts and wrought iron, probably steel, and other things pulled from the dungeon up north. I couldn't imagine any beast of burden able to pull all of this. I didn't notice the harness, but it had to be big, for the number of animals needed.
I was sweating from the heat and stale humidity by the time the cart moved. The tarp was oiled, and while it would keep the rain from making stuff under wet. It trapped the heat and late morning humidity.
More than once after we were moving, I was tempted to lift the side to let fresh air in, but while the voices were muffled by the thick tarp, they were constant, so I had to endure it at the cost of willpower.
Maybe this will help raise the skill, if I don't first run out and reveal myself.
When the cart stops moving, I'm down to half my willpower, and I have no idea how long we've been on the road. The voices take on a questioning tone, then...
"I just need to check something." Close enough for me to make out what he's saying as he walks along the cart. Must be the driver, although I'd have expected the cart to shift when he got off, even with all this—the light blinds me as the tarp goes up. Then I'm in the air.
"I knew there was something off about the weight," the man says as he holds me by the black of my shirt, high enough my feet are dangling. All I see through the spots is a massive form, his arm raised so I'm over his head. "Every fucking time," he snarls, and the spots finally clear enough I see who is holding me in the air and my jaw drops.
Chuck is holding me.
I'm dangling from his—
He shakes me. "I'm not a fucking bus service! So you can—"
"I can't go back," I replied, sounding a lot more scared than I intend.
He narrows his eyes at me. "Yeah, kids who are allowed to leave town don't resort to sneaking onto my carts."
"What are you going to do with me?" I still sound scared. I mean, Chuck's scary. I watched him send a Ramthom flying with a swing. Stories are he took on an ogre by himself and walked away without even a scratch. And he's old, well over seventy, not that he looks it. He sighs and puts me down. I use the cart to stay up while my legs stop wobbling.
"I'm going to put you to work." He replies. "You're going to pay to ride." He looks me over. "What's your class? Is it at least something that's going to help on the trip?"
"I'm an explorer," I reply and did I sound as meek as I think? "I have fighting training, and I'm learning the bow."
He frowns. "Haven't come across one of you in decades. No wonder you want out. Every explorer I've known couldn't stand in the same place for more than five minutes. Grandmother taught you?"
"Yes." Of course he'd know her. She was famous, and so was he.
"What levels?"
"Fifteen and sixteen. My bow's only at four. I only got my class a few days ago, and I didn't get much time to train."
The look he gives me isn't one of being impressed. "Did you at least think to take a weapon before you left the safety of Court behind?" there's a tone of him being ready not to be impressed again.
"I did. And a full set of armor, and my bow." My shoulders sag. "I didn't think to bring arrows."
He chuckles. "I'll give you forgetting one thing when you managed to plan ahead that much."
I perk up and start equipping my armor, one piece at a time, but since it's only exchanging what I'm wearing with what in my inventory, it's quick.
"That doesn't look like anything Court makes," he says, once I'm changed.
"It was...a gift."
He sighs. "Anyone going to come after us to reclaim it?"
"No, I swear, it was given to me."
"Kid, I don't care..." he shakes his head. "Alright. Here are the rules. You do what your team lead tells you. If your skill set isn't called for, you either help as best you can, or you stay out of the way. I'm guessing you didn't think to bring food or water."
I shake my head and forcefully keep my shoulders from sagging.
"I guess adding one to the meal split isn't going to cause a revolt. You know how to cook?"
"Skill's eleven," I answer. "I enjoy cooking, but we're kept busy with classes and training until we get our class, so I never got to do it as much as I wanted."
"Do you always need to explain your answers?"
"Sorry," I look at the ground.
"Don't—" he bites back the rest.
"Chuck, you mind if I take charge of him?" I recognize the voice and Herbert steps next to me.
"Better you than me, Herb." He heads to the front of the cart. "All Right! Rest's over. Send word along the line we're about to get moving again."
"Where are the animals?" I ask as I realize they aren't before the cart.
"Oh, this is going to be worth walking faster," Herbert says, then motions for me to look ahead when I stare at him.
Chuck steps in front of the cart and picks something off the ground. When he stands, there's a harness of thick leather and metal over his vest. He hooks what he's holding to each side of the harness, then on each shoulder.
"What is he..." I trail off as Chuck walks until the chains reach full tension. He leans forward, and I'm about to ask again just what is going on, when the wheels creek and I jump aside in surprise. Herbert keeps me from falling.
Chuck has a foot forward, and the cart slowly creaks a centimeter, then another, and again.
"Come on," Herbert says, "we need to get to our posts."
I keep on staring as Chuck takes a full step forward, pulling the largest cart I've ever seen, filled with all sorts of metal stuff.
"Dennis," Herbert calls, and the tone of command pulls me away. I run to join him, and then we are walking at a brisk pace past much smaller carts pulled by a variety of animals.
"How strong is he?"
Herbert shrugs. "Never asked. Does Josie know you left?"
I swallow. "I couldn't tell her. Base would have heard, and he'd have to tell dad if he was ordered to. I'm the commander's grandson," I add at his raised eyebrow.
"And you're running away from that?"
"I don't think it's running away when you're an adult. I'm striking out on my own."
"You snuck onto the caravan; that's running away."
"I couldn't stay. My dad's..."
"He was alive before the system?"
I nod.
"Yeah, a lot of the old folks didn't deal well with the transition. My mom turned to religion and gave that conman everything we had. A friend's dad went all anti-system and left him and his mom to fend for themselves."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks. I pulled through, so did my friend."
"He here too?"
Herbert laughs. "No, the adventure was never for him. He's a scribe in Toronto. The quiet, boring life for him. I'd have gone insane in a treen."
You have been invited to join Herbert McDonald's group
Do you Accept? Yes/No
I look at him.
"Chuck has us split in teams. Leaders get the boss's orders, and we pass them along."
Yes.
A window opens with eight names. Herbert is at the top, highlighted, since he's the group leader, and I'm at the bottom. I know it's just because I'm the last added, but I can't help the sense it means I'm going to be given the tasks no one else wants.
It's okay, this is the price of going to Toronto. I am going to pay it.
Next to each of our names are three bars, red for health, yellow for stamina, and blue for mana. They are all full, and their comparative sizes indicate who has more than the others.
I minimize it, adjusting the settings to bring it up when I unsheathe my sword. Combat is then the team screen is useful.
"We're on the move again," Herbert calls to the men and women huddles next to a covered wagon. The driver nods to us.
They look at me.
"So, he's the reason for the oh so needed break?" a lanky woman asks, looking me over. "I'm going to have to find a way to thank you. You can't imagine how hard Chuck pushes all of us."
"You're welcome?" I reply, glancing at Herbert, who shakes his head.
"Don't listen to her. Having to get out of bed in the morning is already too much work."
"That's where the best work is done," she replies with a mischievous smile.
"You know there's a class for that, right?" The man on her right says. He's stockier, a head shorter and has a bow at his back. "I never got why you didn't go with that, seeing as you're told us just how early you turned your bed into a moneymaker."
She sighs. "What can I tell you. Daddy wanted a strong little girl to keep the bulls in check."
The man snorts. "I don't think he ever expected you to do it quite that way."
A small woman leans past the taller one and says in a quiet voice, "I think we might be dealing with a virgin. Have you seen how red his face is?"
"Oh, we've seen," a heavyset bearded man says with a chuckle. "I didn't think this part of the world had any of those left."
"George!" the tall woman said, offended. "Come on, how about you don't put your prejudiced out there for the new teammate?"
"Just going by—"
"That's enough," Herbert orders. "This is Dennis. He's on our team until we reach Toronto. Dennis, these are your teammates. You don't have to like all of them, but it's best if you learn to respect them. Some of them are too crass for words, but they are more experienced and can probably teach you a thing or two."
"More than two," the tall woman says, smiling.
"Classes aren't important on the caravan," Herbert continues, ignoring her. "Our job's first to keep the wagons and carts assigned to us safe. Within that, we have duties. George's our cook. Helen," he nods to the tall woman, "handles communications with the drivers. Maxwel gets us meat for George so we can eat."
"Sometimes," George comments.
The archer nods to me while giving George the finger.
"Sasha is support. She deals with injuries, sickness, and anything that might keep you from doing your job. Me, Evelyn, Dax, and now you, are cheap labor. They need help with something, we oblige."
Evelyn is a dark-skinned woman with hair shaved close to her skull. She nods at me, but there isn't much friendliness there. Dax looks me over and smiles. I'm reminded of how Rich smiled, and my hands turn sweaty and I have to fight the urge to put the wagon between me and him.
"No, Dax," Herbert says. "He's off limit."
"Come on, Herb," the man replies with a lazy smile. "It's not like you go for his type."
"He's my cousin's best friend, Dax. And unless you're blind, you're already making him uncomfortable. We will be working with him, and I can't have your... lack of control make that difficult. Max, when we break for the night, can you take Dennis and help him practice his archery?"
"Sure, but I don't know how much good it'll do. My teaching skill's just seven."
"Then think of it as a way to raise that in the process." Hebert places a hand on my shoulder and guide me along the now moving carts. "I'll introduce you to the drivers so they know they can call on you if they need help."
"What's Dax's jobs in the group?" I asked, trying not to shiver in discomfort at the memory of that look. "I mean, other than labor."
"I'm the sneak," Dax whispered in my ear, and with a yell, I'm up and standing behind the driver of the cart we are next to, while Dax laughs heartily.