text: In the late hours of the night, you set out for parts unknown.
  
  On your back is your sword, chipped and dull. It's far too large to be called a sword; massive, heavy, far too rough. If anything, it's a hunk of raw iron. But it's yours, and a single swing with the large blade is enough to cut down three cavalrymen and their horses too. Beside it is your knapsack, carrying only raw essentials, such as food, a change of clothes, a tinderbox, lantern oil, and a jug of alcohol. Fifteen feet of rope in a coil is tied onto your belt, alongside a lantern.
  
  For a moment you're leaving your home village with your friends. All of you are young, reckless, hopeful... But the nostalgia soon fades, and you realize what you're doing. You're not leaving to save the world, you're leaving to get away from your responsibilities. The thought makes you let out a dry, humorless laugh.
  
  It's been so long since you've traveled. You almost forgot what it felt like, just you on the open road. It feels... Liberating, almost. Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders for the first time in years. As though you were holding the world high above you, and only now can you take a break. But you don't hold onto that feeling, for you know well enough that it will distract you from any dangers on the road...
  
  Soon enough, you come upon a fork in the road. One road leads into the forest. You're unlikely to come across any other people on this road, only wilderness as far as the eye can see. The other road is a common trade route, with villages dotting it every few miles. Either way, wherever you go, you'll be traveling far away from the place you once called home.
  > take the trade route.
  You take the path that eventually merges back onto the main roads. This is a common route for wandering merchants or supply caravans, with villages darting the path every couple of miles. The entire route itself from where you are is about 30 miles, where it runs into the city of Sodran and then disappears, assimilated into the highways.
  
  The villages in these areas all make their profits in a variety of ways. Some survive off of hunting and gathering, others fishing, most farming. One village, from what you've heard, even makes money by hiring off the able-bodied men and women to traveling merchants in need of protection. Whatever gets the bills paid and keeps food on the table, you suppose.
  
  It's an hour into your march that you come across the first village. There's an inn right on the edge of the town that's still open. The lit lanterns within seep through the windows, as if a beacon guiding weary travelers to the doorstep. On the side of the inn is a small stable, where some horses and a mule reside. The horses have everything from a simple saddle to a whole pack of belongings tied to them, and the mule has a pack of wares strapped to its back.
  
  You can stop at the inn for the night. It would be nice to sleep in a warm bed. Still, you don't want to get distracted; you can just carry on through the night to put as much distance between you and your former estate as you can.
  > you'll rent a room at the inn.
  As you walk past the stable to the inn's door, a woman, looking to be in her late 20s, walks out of the stables. Her hands are calloused and her fair skin tinged red, no doubt from working under the sun all day. As she spots you, she looks surprised for a moment, before smiling. "Oh, hello sir! Stopping at the inn for the night? I was just about to head in myself."
  
  You grunt out something resembling a "yes", and she nods. "The place is real nice, sir. My father runs it, I manage the stables for him. My name is Eliza, what would yours be?" She extends a hand, perhaps thinking you'll shake it. You don't, and after an awkward moment she withdraws it.
  
  You do, however, give her a response. "Kit."
  
  "That's a nice name, sir." She smiles at you still. You continue to frown. Eventually, her shining grin falters, and she looks worried. "Something wrong, sir?"
  
  "I didn't come here to chat."
  
  Her face falls a bit more, but she regains her smile. "Of course not, sir. I'm sorry if I held you up. Let's go."
  
  "Right." You move to leave. Eliza follows after you, and you turn to look at her over your shoulder. "Oh, and stop saying sir at the end of every sentence. Makes you seem uptight." Her face falls a bit at that, but she keeps her smile plastered on her face.
  
  As you open the door to the inn, a pleasant warmth hits you in the face. You step inside, Eliza following after you. The entrance of the inn is empty save for a man behind a wooden counter up front, tapping the counter with his finger. He looks at you, and a smile makes its way onto his face, disturbing his bushy mustache. "Ah, Eliza! Welcome back. Who's this, potential customer?"
  
  "Yes, father. His name is Kit. Kit, this is my father, Isaiah. Go on, sir... Um, I mean, Kit." Good, she caught herself.
  
  You step forward to the man behind the counter, staring down at his sitting form. "How much for a room?" you ask.
  
  "Just 5 gold pieces a night, sir. Throw in an extra coin for as many drinks as you can have." That piques your interest. You open your coin pouch and pull out six coins, tossing them onto the counter. The owner takes a moment to count them out, before he nods. He slips the coins into a lockbox under the counter, before grabbing a key from behind him. "Very good, sir. Here's your room key, room 8."
  
  You nod at him, taking the key from his hands and looking around. "There's a dining hall to the right," Isaiah points to an archway. "You can get your drinks there if you want. We have ale, wine, fruit juice, and water."
  
  "Alright." You pocket your key, then head straight for the dining room. Heading through the doorway, you see that it's far more lively in here, different people milling about and sitting at different tables. You spot a few interesting folks, but one really catches your eye: a man with tanned skin, dressed in clothing made of brightly colored textiles. He must be a wandering merchant from the distant lands of Cikoni.
  
  You wonder what he's doing here. Maybe he could use a guard, could get you a steady source of income and get you far away from the kingdom. Alternatively, you can just get your drink and sit by yourself.
  > speak to the wandering merchant.
  Grabbing your drink, you head on over to the wandering merchant's table. You note a pipe hanging from his mouth, a strange crushed up substance within it; upon closer inspection, the substance appears to be sharp and jagged like glass, and glows a faint blue. You know what the substance is: Cikoni Crab Shells, a popular recreational drug hailing from the beaches of Cikoni. To make it, one has to find a Cikoni Long Crab, which possesses a strangely potent amount of magic within its shell, and kill it. Then, they crush it up, either to a fine paste or to shards like the merchant has it; from what you heard it determines how harsh the taste is.
  
  As you stop to recollect your knowledge on what's within the pipe, a small flickering flame bursts from his fingertips with a snap. He sticks his finger into the crab shells, taking a moment to let the fire melt them down, and before long the pipe has been lit. He's a mage, though you should have expected that; most who hail from Cikoni are mages after all.
  
  You slide into the chair across from him as he puffs on his pipe. He looks up at you, gives a little nod and speaks, "Anything important, traveler?"
  
  You lean forward. "I need work, and a way out of this kingdom. I can give you strong arms and protection if you hire me on. In exchange you don't ask about who I am or what I did."
  
  You must have appealed to his shadier side, as the man smiles a bit. "Ah, a man after my own heart, I see. I understand. Since I assume names are on the list of things I should not ask about, I won't. My name is Gi'anti, and I'm a traveling merchant of sorts."
  
  "You can call me whatever you wish. I just need a way out of here."
  
  At that, Gi'anti grins and lets out a puff of smoke. "Well then. I shall call you T'kanka. Please, tell me your room number, so I may wake you when we set off tomorrow."
  
  With your luck, that means rodent in their language. Still, it'll do. "It's room 8. When do we set off?"
  
  "At dawn. Get some sleep, T'kanka, for you will need it." With that, Gi'anti extinguishes the Crab Shells and departs for his room, leaving you to finish your drink alone. At the very least, you got a way out of this kingdom now.
  
  You finish your drink, head up to your room, and pass out in the bed not long afterwards. A few hours later you awake to a pounding on your door and dim sunlight shining onto your face through the window. You get up out of bed, and open the door. There, Gi'anti greets you. "Ah, T'kanka. Was worried I'd have to knock your door down, for I almost thought you were dead in there."
  
  You rub the sleep out of your eyes. "Needed the sleep. We setting off now?"
  
  Gi'anti nods. "Come along, T'kanka." He gestures for you to follow, which you do. He leads you out of the inn and to the stable, where he unhooks the mule you saw last night and grabs a lead. "We'll be setting off through the woods and heading through to the city of Tolast. If we run into trouble on the way, you put that sword of yours to use, eh T'kanka?"
  
  You nod. "Right."
  
  And so, the two of you walk off into the wilderness.
  > continue
  Over the next week, the two of you make small talk. Gi'anti is an interesting fellow, with a lot to say on various herbs and plants you come across in the forest. One particular time, he points out a faintly red leaf, and says, "That there is what they call sorem incenti, it's a medical leaf used for treating wounds caused by magic."
  
  "Hm. So if, say, you threw a fireball at me, we'd just plant some sorem incenti on me and I'd be fine?" Your response causes him to let out a laugh, which makes you frown. "What's so funny?"
  
  "T'kanka, if I hit you with a fireball, all you'd need is aloe vera. I'm not a very accomplished mage!" He continues to laugh heartily, and despite yourself you also let out a small chuckle. "If I was a powerful mage, I wouldn't have need of your assistance, no?"
  
  "I suppose not."
  
  The two of you continue on into the woods, bantering during the day and resting during the night. A few times you nearly let slip some of your old stories, but you doubt the man would care any for them. Plus, he silences you before you can get started on them anyhow. One night you almost mention your old friends when Gi'anti holds up a hand. "I enjoy your company, T'kanka, but I'd prefer if our relationship be kept professional. No point getting attached if you're going to leave anyway."
  
  Eventually, the two of you pass through the city of Tolast, Gi'anti selling some of his crab shells to anyone looking for a fix. He sells a particularly large amount to a noble passing through, who gives him a nice stack of gold coins in exchange. The mule is extra burdened from then on due to the sheer size of the bag of gold.
  
  Eventually, the two of you cross the border from the Kingdom of Oren to the Empire of Kishak, after about a month on the road. "I would appreciate if you would stay on my caravan, T'kanka," Gi'anti says while the two of you set up camp for the night. "But I understand if you wish to leave. We've come far, and that was all you wished to do."
  
  You have a decision to make. Will you stay on with Gi'anti, continuing your travels together, or depart come sunrise?
  > gi'anti has become something of a friend over this last month. You will gladly stay on the caravan with him.
  You nod. "I'll gladly stay with you, Gi'anti. Come hell or high water, I'll be here with you, my friend." With those words, you finish setting up your camp. Gi'anti grins brightly at you.
  
  "I am glad to hear it, T'kanka..." He pauses, pondering his next words. "Do you know what T'kanka means, my friend?"
  
  You shake your head. "No."
  
  "It's the name of a legendary warrior, where I come from. T'kanka, the Wandering King. Able to slay an army with one swing of his sword, able to traverse thousands of miles in a single day, and able to survive no matter how many times he is struck. Of course, these are all myths, but T'kanka was a real man. Legend has it that after his death, his body denied this fact, and he continued to roam, forever." Gi'anti leans forward. "I saw in your eyes the same spirit that I imagine T'kanka to have."
  
  You suppose you must be flattered by that, so you crack Gi'anti a small smile. The two of you then begin to banter again, as you've done in the past month, and finally lay down to sleep. Come sunrise, the two of you will continue onward together. You know that you've made a brother for life in him, and you could not be any gladder.
  
  In the morning light, the two of you pack up and leave, never once looking back.
  
  THE END