"How lucky are we, you especially. I've journeyed this road more than fifty times, and I can count the number of times I've come across someone on my fingers and ehh… some of my toes."
When Alexander called Goington's attention to the red light, it had been faint and flickering, but as they watched, within a minute, it grew stronger, becoming much brighter. Around it, four more red lights popped up.
"That's a campfire, one from a travelling group."
Those were Goington's words to Alexander, and he became instantly jolly after saying them. The man exclaimed how lucky Alexander was on his very first journey, listing all the benefits they would enjoy as fellow travellers. But the white-haired teen was lost in his own thoughts.
"Where do you think they are heading to?"
"Beckle, of course. It's the only village after this place."
"Is the village expecting any large travelling group? The merchants aren't supposed to come till next month."
Goington paused.
"True, but maybe they have some exciting new stuff and can't wait to sell it. This won't be the first time it has happened. It could also be the arrival of a major order from the city, the Iron King himself perhaps wanting to hold a banquet."
Goington paid no real heed to Alexander's words. The spring in his steps remained, and his jolliness could not be mistaken.
"The Iron King buys his meat from Beckle?"
"Yes, on special occasions. And it's not the regular type."
"What type is it?"
"I don't know. I just know it's different."
Goington's words were rather contradictory, but the man had given his answer, and once more, Alexander did not push.
Descending the hill, the two men cut their way through the forest, heading straight for the spotted camp. With how thick the forest was, and with the darkness that swallowed the world, Alexander feared they would get lost, especially given their pace. But observing the man occasionally glance up to the stars, he realized just how much he had underestimated the drunkard.
Within minutes of walking, shouts began reaching Alexander's ears, a faint, blurry red glow coming into his vision afterwards.
"Let's hide and slowly approach them. We should first know who we are dealing with," Alexander whispered from behind.
"You worry too much." Goington continued marching forward.
Letting out a burp, the drunk waved his hand as if to tell Alexander to forget his worries. But the former commander had seen too much of life to ignore its darker side. Seeing that they were only steps from the camp, Alexander immediately put the brakes on his step.
Not even realising Alexander had slowed down, Goington continued forward, mumbling out words that soon became unheard by the white-haired teen. Using the trees as cover, Alexander cut to the left, removing himself from Goington's line of sight, where he to turn back. Instinctively, he crouched, his frame cautiously sifting through the bushes, his eyes making sure of his own path while keeping Goington in sight.
"Only the purest of hearts can travel to Beckle, Alex. You have to know that. And besides, you need to learn to see the good in people…"
Goington had his eyes fixed on the expanding and brightening light ahead, the combination of his steps and the loud sounds reaching him from the camp hiding Alexander's departure.
Walking between two tents, the first in his path, the image of some of the happenings within the camp came into range of Goington's vision. His steps at first quickened, but then slowed as he moved further.
The fog hanging over Goington's head rapidly cleared. Moving forward, going past several individuals, he came to a stop before a large piece of meat being roasted over a fire pit.
"How are you people doing?" the old man asked, glancing behind before reaching into the bag on his back and pulling out a huge jug of wine.
Before his entry into the camp, talks, laughter, and shouts filled the air, but now most of the place was silent. Both the eyes he had walked past, those by the fire before him, and those ahead, were fixated on his figure.
The men, dressed in fur and leather skin, trousers with holes and weapon holsters, turned their attention to the unknown guest. Goington received no reply, and he did not further seek any.
Looking away from the campfire, Goington's gaze landed on the figures a few meters away—two naked women with chains binding their wrists and another around their collars, dancing to the pleasure of a group of men who had been munching on large portions of meat.
Uncorking the wine, Goington took three large gulps and bringing down the jug, he fell to his knees.
"Are you slavers?" the old man asked, looking around.
"What do you think?" a tall, lanky man quite close to Goington sneered, drinking the contents of a cup.
"Smart boy," Goington muttered, letting out a long burp as he, for the second time, looked behind and confirmed that Alex had not followed him.
Sneers filled the faces of the men, but nothing could prepare them for the heavy spurt that came out of Goington's mouth, landing in the fire and generating a wave of flames that flew in all directions.