That evening, they found lodging in a shabby riverside inn within the village.
Margaville was little more than a handful of houses nestled just east of the great lake. Beyond a river crowded with the small boats of fishermen and merchants, the settlement lay buried deep in the heart of the marsh, perpetually wrapped in mist.
The villagers, however, seemed perfectly at home in their surroundings. They had learned to make the most of the vast network of rivers winding through the swamp.
"With a bit of luck, we could continue by boat," Kalden said.
"Really?" Maynar asked, brightening immediately. Even a river voyage appealed to him.
He took a hearty swallow of beer and felt grateful to be sitting inside four walls again, no matter how humble they were.
Darma was devouring a slab of meat.
Arsik had disappeared into a bottle of rum.
Pale, meanwhile, had ordered nothing at all. He sat motionless, patiently waiting for the others to finish their meal.
"Aren't you going to eat, Pale?" Maynar asked.
"I don't eat."
Kalden frowned.
"How is that possible?"
Pale smiled, revealing a handful of sharp teeth.
"The Brothers provide what I need."
"We rarely eat."
"And you... survive like that?"
Pale offered no reply.
He felt the knight's eyes studying him, but it didn't concern him in the slightest.
"What strength can someone with arms that thin possibly have if he never eats?"
Darma nearly choked on his food.
Kalden realized that had been his version of laughter.
"Demon's strength," Darma said with a grin. "If you ever see the bastard fight, you'll never question him again. I don't know where he gets it from, but trust me, knight..."
"...he has it."
Kalden continued staring at Pale before rising from the table.
He walked over to the innkeeper, placed several coins upon the counter, and rested a hand beside them.
"In addition to our rooms and meals, we'll need a boat to take us north along the river. I don't know the waterways, so I'd like someone experienced to guide us."
The innkeeper looked first at the coins...
...then at the man before him.
"My name is Kalden Orans," the knight said, pointing to the Black Drop emblazoned upon his surcoat—the crest of Forcry.
"I am a baronial knight, and in the name of my lord, Kaine Orans, Baron of Forcry, I ask this service of you."
"Can I rely on you?"
The innkeeper paled.
"Y-Yes, my lord... Sir..."
"Kalden Orans."
"Sir Kalden."
He bowed his head.
"I'll find you both a boat and a guide."
Kalden pushed the coins toward him.
"Thank you. We only need someone to take us close enough to the road. My companions and I have no wish to lose ourselves in the swamp—or wander too close to the mountains."
"Lyria is our destination."
The innkeeper nodded.
Gathering the gold, he beckoned to a weathered fisherman drinking alone in the corner.
By morning, a boat would be waiting for them on the riverbank.
The boat glided quietly across the still waters of the lake.
Fog surrounded them on every side, yet their guide navigated with effortless confidence.
Darma and Arsik each took an oar, rowing in a steady rhythm.
With the exception of Kalden, they all had experience at sea, making this mode of travel feel strangely familiar—and far more comfortable.
They crossed the vast expanse of Lake Bliss.
Pale watched the lonely homes scattered along the riverbanks.
Half-swallowed by vegetation and damp, covered in moss and creeping plants...
...yet peaceful.
Everything about this land felt foreign to him.
The barren lands of the west were gray and bleak, filled with smoke instead of mist.
There were no animals wandering between the trees.
There were no trees standing among the houses.
Only blood...
...and the dark creatures waiting in every shadow.
They had soaked into the land since the age of the Hunter and would never leave.
They were as much a part of the earth as roots and stone.
The few animals seen by the Sirakrat and the western peoples were brought from Rose through the Gates of Goliath—from the homeland of Darma's people, the entrance to the Cell that connected the western peninsula to the rest of Vitallia.
The passage between darkness...
...and light.
"What are you thinking about, Pale?" Maynar asked, noticing the strange Sirakrat staring silently toward the distant shore.
"The animals."
"You have many."
Maynar felt an unexpected pang of sympathy.
"Animals? From what I know, they're rare where you come from."
Whether Pale smiled or not, Maynar couldn't tell.
"They are rare."
"But important."
"I thought you hardly ate."
"They're important."
"Just not for us."
"For the Brothers."
"You sacrifice them?"
Pale nodded.
"You bring them all that way only to sacrifice them? Wouldn't it make more sense to eat them?"
Pale seemed genuinely confused.
"No, my lord."
"It wouldn't."
"The Brutgors bring them from the Land of Fire."
"Their hordes are paid by the Humans to deliver them to us."
"They're paid?" Maynar blinked.
"You hire barbarians to transport livestock?"
"They're the only ones willing to take the work."
"You don't have to go back, Pale."
The Sirakrat looked at him in confusion.
"If you don't like your homeland..."
"...you don't have to return."
"We're here," Darma grunted, cutting the conversation short.
The lake came to an end.
Arsik jumped ashore first.
His boots sank deep into the mud.
"A swamp."
"A damned swamp..."
"...as far as the eye can see."
"Your eye doesn't see very far," Darma replied dryly.
Arsik shot him a wolfish glare.
Yet he noticed something unusual.
The anger didn't rise inside him as quickly as it normally would.
"We've got a miserable journey ahead of us," he muttered.
"And a long one," Kalden added.
The knight handed a coin to the young guide.
"Thank you."
The man nodded and pointed north.
"The Swamp Road isn't far."
One by one, they disappeared into the mist.