Marbi and Sordo finally caught sight of land.
After a clear night, the weather had changed abruptly. Rain fell upon the calm sea, yet the water remained strangely warm, something both men found unsettling. They had heard stories of peculiar phenomena near the coasts of Armoria. Further inland, rumors claimed that on the hottest days of summer, fire itself could fall from the sky. And if you were unfortunate enough to witness it, you had to find shelter immediately. Otherwise, within hours you would turn to stone, and with a single strong gust of wind, your ashes would scatter across the barren rocks of the barbarians who dwelled there.
Ahead lay the coastal village of Magenta.
That was where the stone had led them.
Marbi knew the place. The village stood near the border between Lothen and Armorgrand. To the west rose the immense Armorian peaks. The settlement was well fortified. Cliffs protected it from both east and west, while a watchtower overlooked the shoreline, built to defend against coastal raids and small pirate vessels. A local militia remained on constant alert, and countless fishing boats operating near the village could quickly spread word of any approaching threat.
The two men moored their vessel without incident.
After exchanging a few words with fishermen and sailors, they decided to quench their thirst at the Salty Hunt, a local inn renowned for its hospitality. With the stone serving as their compass, they needed no further directions. Their only concern was staying safe, though Sordo possessed enough skill—and a complete lack of self-preservation—to ease that burden somewhat.
Marbi, on the other hand, felt weighed down less by danger than by the responsibility and the message he carried.
After eating and drinking generously, Sordo purchased the services of a young woman, who accompanied them to their room. Ignoring the sounds of the night, Marbi turned onto his side and stared at the stone resting in his palm while Sordo and the prostitute amused themselves on the opposite bed.
The stone glowed faintly in the dim light of the room.
Its pointer remained fixed to the north.
Only Liria lay north of them—or perhaps Forkrae, depending on the route. Marbi could not be certain. They would simply have to begin traveling along the road and see whether the stone changed direction.
The next morning, they hired horses.
Sordo woke with a pounding headache, and his cheerful mood had vanished. They barely exchanged two words.
The two brown steeds were nothing remarkable, but as they galloped along the road through a foreign kingdom, the riders experienced a rare and welcome sense of freedom.
In the end, Sordo was not nearly as irresponsible as he appeared. Before leaving, he had stopped by the blacksmith to inspect his weapon. He had also purchased another knife, fastening it to his belt, along with a wineskin filled with the same wine they had drunk the previous evening at the Salty Hunt.
They continued riding north, determined to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall.