Sliceru felt lucky to have snagged a spot at launch, and he savoured every single moment of the experience.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled in wonder. 'The scent of the damp earth, the fresh grass, the bite of the cold wind against my skin, it's incredible. It feels as though I'm actually standing in the real world.'
"Is something the matter, young man? You were miles away just then."
"Is this old woman boring you, then?"
Sliceru waved his hands frantically, desperate to clear the air. "Not at all, Grandma Nina! I genuinely enjoy our chats. It's just that the frost on the plants looked so mesmerising, I suppose I got a bit carried away."
Nina narrowed her eyes at him, making him break into a nervous sweat, before she finally huffed.
"You youngsters... your minds are always wandering."
Sliceru gave a sheepish chuckle, silently praying his reputation with her hadn't taken a hit.
~Tooooot!
~Tooot!
A deep, low horn echoed through the air. Sliceru spun around, his jaw dropping at the sight of a colossal machine. Belching thick plumes of steam, the contraption lumbered towards him, or rather, towards the town of Ashfall.
"Grandma, move! Quickly!" Sliceru cried, grabbing her arm. "Something huge is coming!"
With his help, Nina and her cart were hauled safely off the path, though she looked far from pleased about being bundled off the road so unceremoniously.
Brandishing her walking cane high in the air, she shrieked at the passing land-crawler, "You useless hooligans! Get down here this instant, and I'll teach you some bloody respect for your elders!"
However, her fury died down as the machine rumbled past. It was a grim sight: the hull was peppered with bullet holes and scorched by explosions. The wagon walls looked like they had been patched up in a hurry, and several sections were stained with rust-coloured blotches that looked suspiciously like dried blood.
"Young man, hurry up, I have a feeling something bad has happened."
Upon Nina's urging, Sliceru picked up his pace as he began to drag the cart with ferocious favour, not because he was concerned, but because he smelled a quest and he refused to let anyone steal it before his eyes.
The alarm blared as the guards of Ashfall Frontier Town scrambled onto the ramparts. Cannons were swivelled toward the approaching land-crawler, which ground to a screeching, shuddering halt. Below the stone battlements, the soldiers gripped their polearms with white-knuckled intensity, sweat beading on their brows despite the chill.
"Report!" commanded a man clad in heavy plate, a formidable halberd resting in his grip as the scouts hurried toward him.
"My Lord, this steam-crawler appeared out of nowhere. It's in a state of total disrepair, sir. It's come to a standstill, but there's been no word from the crew."
"Keep your eyes peeled," the officer barked. "And don't you dare lower your guard."
The guards watched like hawks as an elderly man stepped down from the machine. Others followed in his wake, a pitiful procession of souls. They were a harrowing sight, malnourished, clad in little more than rags, and shivering. They looked less like travellers and more like a band of beggars.
As the group hobbled toward the gate, a guard shouted down from the battlements, "Halt! Identify yourselves!"
The elderly man, clearly their leader, stepped forward and offered a deep, trembling bow. "I am Bojak, one of the village heads of the frontier settlement, Snow Wolves. They... they slaughtered our people. They took our sons and daughters as captives. We managed to flee, and now we seek sanctuary under the Baroness's noble mercy."
"I recognise him. That is indeed Headman Bojak. Open the gates! Get the healers and supplies ready!" A cold, feminine voice cut through the air.
The guards stiffened instantly, spinning around to salute as they spoke in unison, "Your Ladyship!"The massive iron gates groaned open. Soldiers filed out in formation, flanking the Baroness as she emerged with a measured, regal gait.
Bojak's legs gave way. He collapsed to his knees, his forehead striking the dirt in a desperate kowtow. "I have failed you, Your Ladyship!" he wailed, his voice cracking with raw grief. "My village is ash! My people are in chains! Instead of dying alongside them, this old coward shamefully clings to life... I have no excuse, Your Ladyship. I deserve no mercy, but I beg of you, help them!"
Adrien and Vera, standing amidst the ragged crowd that had followed Bojak, finally caught their first glimpse of the woman they had heard so much about.
Baroness Jovana Vukosavljević was a striking portrait of aristocratic defiance. She possessed the sharp, hawk-like features of the Hasean high-born, her dark hair shot through with premature streaks of silver and pinned into an elegant, complex crown. She was dressed immaculately in a high-collared gown of midnight-blue silk, cinched by a corset of polished brass filigree that hummed with a faint, violet energy.
The most arresting detail, however, was her left arm, a marvel of delicate clockwork and dark mahogany that whirred with soft, melodic precision as she raised a gold-rimmed monocle to her eye.
The Baroness surveyed the bedraggled group, her gaze cutting through the crowd until it locked onto Vera and Adrien. Amidst the mud-stained refugees, the duo stood out not just for their gear and posture but also for their appearance.
"Bojak," she called out, her voice carrying the practised authority of a ruler.
"Who are these two? They don't wear the faces of your kin."
Bojak stepped forward, bowing low enough for his joints to creak. "Your Ladyship, we owe them our lives. These two pulled us from the grasp of the bandits and saw us through every mile of the frontier."
The Baroness's eyes narrowed, a flicker of professional scepticism crossing her features. "Is that so?"
Vera and Adrien moved as one, having spent their real lives navigating the shark-infested waters of high-society galas, the transition to game etiquette was second nature. Vera's curtsey was deep and fluid; Adrien's bow was precise to the degree.
"Greetings, Your Ladyship," Vera said, her voice steady and melodious. "I am Vera, and this is my companion, Adrien. We are mere travellers who could not stand by while the innocent suffered."
The Baroness's eyebrows rose; the roughness she expected was absent. In its place was a refined poise that softened her stance.
"Well met," she replied, her tone losing its icy edge. "You have my sincere gratitude. However, as you can see, my people are at their breaking point. I must see to their care immediately. Would you permit us to continue this under more civilised circumstances?"
"Of course, Your Ladyship," Vera answered smoothly. "The needs of the survivors come first."
The Baroness signalled to a stern man standing nearby.
"Vuković."
"Your Ladyship," the man barked, stepping into the light.
"See them to the Frontier Inn. Ensure they are given a room befitting their service, and arrange for their identity permits." She turned back to the duo, her gaze lingering on their polished mannerisms. "Go with him. You look as though you've walked through hell; wash away the road and rest. We shall speak when the matter settles."
She turned her undivided attention back to the refugees, her voice rising to give orders. As the duo turned to follow Vuković, the heavy tension of the escort finally snapped.
~Tru-Ding~
A sharp, resonant chime, the sound of silver hitting crystal, vibrated in the air. The world seemed to dim for a heartbeat as shimmering gold text began to weave itself into existence before their eyes, tallying the cost of their journey.
━━━━━━━━━━━ ⚔ QUEST COMPLETE ⚔ ━━━━━━━━━━━
Title: Escort to Ashfall Frontier Town
Status: Success
[ Journey Log]
Initial Count: 187 Souls
Survivors:162(~86.63%)
The Fallen:25
Time:21h 37m
[Summary]
Against the odds, you have delivered the majority to the gates of Ashfall. The survivors' hollow eyes hold a glimmer of hope, a debt they now owe to you.
[Rewards]
* Pending: Audience with Baroness Jovana Vukosavljević for Physical Rewards.
* Reputation: Calculating... (Speak to the Baroness to finalise).
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[Achievement Unlocked! ]
Baby Steps…
"The longest journey begins with a single step, and usually a lot of blood."
Reward: +50 XP
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[ System Notice ]
Welcome toAshfall Frontier Town
Safe Zone: ActivePvP:Restricted
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The duo followed Vuković, who moved with a chilling efficiency. He expedited their identity permits at the gatehouse, a process that usually took hours of bureaucratic questioning, before escorting them through the winding, snow-dusted streets to the Frontier Inn.
The bell above the door jangled violently as Vuković kicked the snow from his heavy boots and stepped into the sudden, sweltering warmth of the common room. Behind him, Vera and Adrien followed, their mismatched armour clinking softly. Despite the exhaustion weighing down their limbs, their eyes remained sharp, scanning the room with a predator's instinct.
Marta, the stout proprietress, froze mid-wipe at the bar. The rag slipped from her numb fingers and hit the floor with a wet thud.
"M-Master Vuković!" she stammered, her face turning a shade of pale that rivalled the blizzard outside. She scurried around the counter, smoothing her stained apron with trembling hands.
"A thousand apologies! I didn't expect... that is, the Baroness does not need a room, surely?"
Vuković didn't offer a smile; he never did. "The Baroness needs hospitality, Marta. These two are guests of the estate. The best room, a hot bath, and the most substantial stew you've got in the pot. Now."
Marta's eyes darted to Vera and Adrien. She took in the jagged, blood-stained leather and the scavenged furs that still smelled. Yet, the way they stood, backs straight, chins tilted with an innate, high-society poise, contradicted every inch of their rugged gear. The confusion was plain on her face, but she was far too wise to voice it.
"Of course! Right away! If they are guests of the Baroness, they are royalty in this house," Marta chirped, her voice wavering as she snatched a heavy brass key from the wall. "Follow me, please... your lordships? Your... graces?"
She looked at Vuković for guidance on how to address these strange, dangerous-looking nobles, but the butler only gave a curt, dismissive nod toward the stairs.
Vuković lingered at the threshold just long enough to drop two wax-sealed envelopes onto the heavy oak table.
"Your temporary permits," he rasped, his voice like grinding stones. "In Ashfall, a soul without papers is just a bandit waiting for a rope. The Baroness has vouched for you, but do not let that poise of yours bleed into arrogance. This is the frontier; the snow doesn't care about your titles."
With a final, inscrutable look, he pulled his cowl up and vanished back into the hallway.
The door had barely latched when a soft knock announced Marta's return. She entered carrying a wide wooden tray, the steam rising from it smelling of rosemary, salt, and seared fat.
Vera and Adrien stared at the tray as if it were a hoard of dragon's gold. After the nightmare of the trek, swallowing that grey, gelatinous Bandići Čorba while pretending to enjoy it, and choking down those nauseating, bitter leaf teas just to keep their [Hunger] bars from flashing red, this was almost overwhelming.
Marta set down two deep ceramic bowls filled with a dark, rich venison stew and a side of honey-glazed parsnips.
"I thought you'd prefer something to fight back against the cold," Marta said, placing two thick slabs of buttered rye bread beside the bowls.
━━━━━━━━━━━[ ITEM IDENTIFIED ]━━━━━━━━━━━
Name: Hearthside Venison & Root Medley
Type: Gourmet Restoration Meal
Rarity: Uncommon
Attributes:
• Fullness: +85
• Warmth: +30(Grants [Inner Hearth] for 6 hours)
Handling:
• Quality: Freshly Prepared
Effects:
• Well-Fed: Hunger decay halted for 8 hours.
• Vitality Surge: Increases [Stamina] recovery by 15% for 3 hours.
• Comfort of the Frontier: Removes minor [Stress]and [Nausea]debuffs.
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As she slipped out, the duo didn't wait. Adrien took a spoonful, half-expecting the "Heavy Gut" debuff or that familiar, sludge-like texture. Instead, the flavours of slow-roasted meat and savoury herbs exploded across his palate.
He closed his eyes, a genuine, pained groan of relief escaping his throat. "I think, I think I'm having a religious experience," he whispered.
"It's flavourful," Vera added, staring at her spoon with wide eyes. "Adrien, and it doesn't smell like a wet dog's armpit."
They ate in a ravenous, focused silence. Gone was the polite, forced 'gusto' they had performed for the refugees. This was pure, desperate satisfaction. Every bite of the crusty bread wiped away the lingering bitterness of the herbal teas that had haunted their taste buds for hours.
When the bowls were scraped clean, the true weight of their journey finally crashed down, and the high of the quest was gone, replaced by a leaden ache that seemed to seep into their very bones.
"Seven hours," Adrien muttered, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed and beginning to unbuckle the heavy, blood-stained bandit greaves. "Over seven hours in the pod, and our real bodies are going to feel like they've been dragged through a gravel pit when we wake up."
Vera nodded, collapsing onto the opposite mattress, too exhausted to even remove her scavenged furs. "The time dilation is a curse today. I feel like I've lived a month since this morning."
She recalled the shimmering system menu, which felt strangely alien compared to the warm, flickering firelight of the room.
[ LOG OUT ]
"See you in the 'real' world," she murmured.
They both tapped the icon; the scent of woodsmoke and the warmth of the hearth dissolved instantly into a blur of geometric static. The heavy wool blankets vanished, replaced by the sterile, pressurised hum of their high-end VR pods as the real world reclaimed them.