Chapter 87
Just getting out of the city took Arran frustratingly long, with the crowded and narrow streets making it slow and difficult to find his way .
Yet after a time, the streets got less busy and the houses grew sparser, and finally, he found himself outside the city .
Here, the roads were much quieter than the streets had been, though there was still a good bit of traffic, with farmers and merchants bringing goods to and from the city .
As Arran made his way north, he relaxed a bit, enjoying the sunny countryside while thinking about the weeks that lay ahead .
From what he had heard these past few days, he now understood that the situation in the Sixth Valley was far more complicated than he had expected . With several factions fighting for power, choosing the wrong novice to join could be disastrous — deadly even .
Yet so far, Arran had only seen a handful of Shadowflame novices in Hillfort, and of those, he had only spoken to two . If he was going to make the right choice, he would have to step up his efforts in finding information, and he would have to do it before the tournament .
The tournament itself, meanwhile, provided as much danger as it did opportunity .
Arran had little doubt about his ability to do well in the tournament, but doing so would inevitably draw attention, and not necessarily the good kind .
If he was lucky, a good performance in the tournament could draw the attention of the more powerful novices, perhaps giving him and Darkfire a strong ally when they crossed the border .
But at the same time, he understood all too well that showing too much power during the tournament would turn him into a target for the enemies of whichever novice he chose to join .
And then there was the auction .
Arran's void bags weren't quite as full as they had once been, but he had little interest in what he could gain from the auction . Whatever it was the novices could offer for a fighter — even a strong one — could hardly be worth much to him .
Still, the auction was probably the best chance he had to get a look at the novices he would be up against across the border, and for that reason alone, he would watch, even if he did not take part .
He sighed deeply, understanding that he had much to do and little time .
Yet worrying now would do him little good, and he decided to focus his attention on the matter at hand . And after that, when he knew the truth about Stoneheart's supposed army, he would try and find out more about the other novices in Hillfort .
He walked for over an hour, but finally, about half a dozen miles from the city's northern edge, he saw what looked to be a small band of mercenaries on the road ahead of him . These, he thought, must be some of Stoneheart's recruits .
He quickened his pace to catch up, but when he approached them, he saw that up close, they more resembled farmers dressed up as mercenaries than they did actual mercenaries .
What little armor they wore was old and ill-fitting, and the swords at their sides did not seem to be in much better shape .
Worse, among the twenty or so men and women in the group, there wasn't a single one who didn't look either several years too young to fight or several decades too old .
"You there!" he called out .
Several of the people in the group turned their heads toward Arran, and a moment later the group came to a stop .
"What is it?" one of the men asked . He was thin and gray-haired, and looked to be on the wrong side of sixty by at least a decade .
"Do you know where I can find Stoneheart?" Arran asked .
"We're on our way to join Lord Stoneheart now," the man said . "You're looking to join, too?"
"Maybe," Arran replied . He took another look at the group, then asked, "Why do you want to join him?"
"Gold, of course," the man answered with a cheerful laugh . "A week or two ago, one of his men came to our village . Said Lord Stoneheart will pay anyone who can lift a sword five gold just to join up, and another five after serving for a year . "
Hearing this, Arran frowned . "You're joining for gold?"
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