Dawn was still a distant promise when I reported to Master Valerius's warehouse. The morning chill nipped at my cheeks, and a light mist hung over the port, making the ships' silhouettes ghostly. I'd had a restless night, the image of Konrad's wanted poster overlaying my dreams of dark forests and unknown dangers.
Valerius was already there, overseeing the loading of the last goods onto three sturdy, ox-drawn wagons. Two other men, clearly the other guards, stood nearby, their weathered faces and prominently displayed weapons marking them. They gave me a quick, indifferent glance, the kind reserved for a newcomer whose worth as an asset or a burden was yet to be determined.
The first was a tall, muscular man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a double-bitted axe casually propped against his shoulder. His name was Gregor. The second, smaller and more agile in appearance, was called Roric and carried a short sword and a longbow. They seemed to know each other and exchanged a few hushed words while sizing me up.
Valerius nodded at me. "Falko. On time. Good. Gregor, Roric, this is our third man. Try to get along. The Darkwood doesn't forgive disagreements."
Gregor grunted a vague greeting, while Roric merely nodded. The welcome wasn't the warmest, but I hadn't expected anything else. In this line of work, trust was earned in the field, not with pleasantries.
The preparations were quickly completed. The wagon drivers, taciturn men accustomed to the road, took the reins, and the caravan slowly lumbered into motion, leaving Ford-Flower as the first rays of sun pierced the mist.
Our positions were clear: one guard at the front with the first wagon (Gregor), one at the rear with the last (Roric), and me in the middle, responsible for watching the flanks and being ready to intervene wherever needed. It was an exposed position, but also the one that would best allow me to observe and learn.
The first few hours of travel were uneventful. We passed through cultivated lands, then pastures. The landscape was open, and visibility was good. Gregor and Roric seemed relaxed, occasionally exchanging jests with the drivers. I, however, remained alert, my senses sharpened by habit and my improved Mental Acuity.
The "Grand Grimoire of Avarice" was silent. No interesting targets on the horizon, no opportunities to absorb essence. It was frustrating. Every day without progress was a day my potential enemies drew closer or grew stronger. But I knew I had to be patient. The Darkwood awaited us, and it would undoubtedly live up to its reputation in terms of challenges.
Around noon, we stopped to eat and water the animals. I shared my bread and dried meat with the others, listening to their conversations without participating much. Gregor spoke of his old military campaigns, Roric of his hunts in the northern mountains. Their stories were full of danger and exploits, and I felt quite small beside them, with only my experience against wolves.
As we prepared to set off again, I noticed Roric carefully observing the edges of the forest we were beginning to skirt. His gaze was sharp, his movements fluid and assured. He looked like a man who knew the dangers of the wild.
"Is something wrong?" I asked quietly.
Roric shook his head. "No. Not yet. But the Darkwood has a bad reputation for a reason. You need to keep your eyes open.
Especially new guys like you." His tone wasn't contemptuous, more like a veteran offering advice.
I appreciated his candor. "I'll do my best."
In the afternoon, we ventured deeper into the forest. The trees grew taller, their branches thicker, creating a constant gloom.
The silence was heavy, broken only by the creaking of wagon wheels and the snorting of oxen. An oppressive atmosphere began to settle in. This was indeed the "Darkwood."
It was then that the System of Avarice made itself known.
A discreet notification appeared:
[Target detected: Ancient Gnarled Tree (Quality: Common). Contains faint Residual Vital Essence and traces of Telluric Essence.]
I looked at the tree in question. It was a gnarled, massive oak, visibly very old. "Telluric Essence"? That was new. Did it have something to do with the earth, with nature itself? The urge to try, to see what would happen, was strong. My "Assimilation Voracity" was at 2 now. Perhaps the absorption would be faster.
Taking advantage of a moment when no one was looking, I approached the tree as if to examine something on the ground and discreetly placed my hand on its rough bark.
[Avarice exercised! You have absorbed the Residual Vital Essence and traces of Telluric Essence from the Ancient Gnarled Tree.]
[Avarice Points gained: 0 (Target too passive and of low quality to generate significant AP).]
[A minute affinity with natural energies has been felt.]
Zero points. Disappointing. But the last line was intriguing: "A minute affinity with natural energies." What did that mean? I didn't feel any different, but perhaps it would have a long-term effect. Or maybe it would unlock new options if I absorbed more of this "Telluric Essence."
I continued walking, lost in thought. The System was full of mysteries. Each new discovery raised more questions than it answered.
As dusk began to fall, Valerius ordered a halt for the night. We chose a small clearing, circling the wagons defensively. Fires were lit, not only for warmth and cooking but also to keep wild beasts away.
Watch shifts were organized. I was assigned to the first watch, with Gregor. Sitting by the fire, sword across my knees, I watched the dancing shadows at the edge of the forest. Gregor, meanwhile, seemed unperturbed, chewing on a piece of dried meat.
"So, Falko," he began suddenly, his deep voice breaking the silence. "Where do you come from, for a young lad like yourself to be escorting caravans in a place like this?"
His question was direct. I had to be careful with my answer. "From the southern lands," I said vaguely. "I learned to hunt to survive. And work isn't easy to come by."
Gregor nodded. "True for many of us. This world isn't kind to those without a name or fortune." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. Perhaps our pasts weren't so different, after all.
We spent the rest of our watch in silence, each lost in thought. The night in the Darkwood was even more unsettling than in the forest where I'd hunted the wolves. Strange noises emanated from the depths of the woods – creaks, whistles, distant growls that could have been the wind or something far more sinister.
I felt the tension rising within me. This journey would be no simple stroll. The Darkwood lived up to its name, and I sensed its shadows would soon put us to the test. And my System of Avarice, lurking within me, waited with growing impatience for another chance to feed.
The following days were much the same, marked by the monotony of the march and the constant tension of the Darkwood. The landscape was oppressive, the trees forming a canopy so dense that sunlight struggled to penetrate. We progressed slowly, the wagon drivers maneuvering cautiously along the uneven path.
I continued to discreetly test my System of Avarice on the environment. I absorbed the essence of various plants, mossy rocks, and even a small stream snaked through the forest. Most of the time, I gained no Avarice Points, but I sometimes received notifications indicating a "minute affinity" with different types of natural energies. I didn't yet know what use this might be, but I felt it was a form of knowledge, a subtle understanding of the world around me, slowly accumulating within.
My relationship with Gregor and Roric gradually evolved. They remained distant, but a form of professional respect began to develop. They saw I was serious about my work, that I didn't complain, and that I remained constantly vigilant. Roric, in particular, sometimes gave me advice on how to read the signs of the forest, spot animal tracks, or potential dangers.
I listened attentively, absorbing his words as I absorbed the essence of things.
It was on the fourth day of our journey that things started to go. We were crossing a particularly dense and swampy area when arrows suddenly whistled from the thickets, thudding into the side of one of the wagons.
"Ambush!" Gregor roared, his axe already in hand.
Squat, greenish figures emerged from the bushes, brandishing clubs and rusty knives. Goblins. They were small, but numerous, and their cruel eyes shone with a malevolent glint.
A notification appeared immediately:
[Target: Marsh Goblin (Quality: Inferior). Contains Essence of Cunning and traces of Vile Essence.]
"Inferior." That was disappointing, but their numbers compensated for their low individual quality. And "Vile Essence"... that didn't sound very good.
The fight engaged quickly. Gregor threw himself into the fray with the fury of a bear, his axe describing deadly circles. Roric, further back, loosed arrows with deadly accuracy, felling goblins before they even reached the caravan.
I found myself facing two of these creatures trying to bypass the defenses to attack the wagon drivers. My heart hammered, but the experience against the wolves had hardened me. I parried their clumsy blows with my sword, looking for an opening.
My "Basic Sword Handling" at level 2 gave me a slight advantage. My movements were more fluid, my parries more assured. I managed to run the first goblin through; it collapsed, gurgling.
[Avarice exercised! You have absorbed the Essence of Cunning and traces of Vile Essence from the Marsh Goblin.]
[Avarice Points gained: 1.]
Only one point. It was little, but every point counted. The second goblin, seeing its companion fall, shrieked and lunged at me with renewed rage. I had to backpedal, parrying a flurry of club strikes.
It was then I felt a slight change within me, a kind of intuition. The Essence of Cunning I'd absorbed… was it giving me a better understanding of these creatures' tactics? I feinted an attack to the right, and the goblin fell for it, leaving its left side exposed. I seized the opportunity to land a decisive blow.
[Avarice exercised! You have absorbed the Essence of Cunning and traces of Vile Essence from the Marsh Goblin.]
[Avarice Points gained: 1.]
The skirmish didn't last long. The goblins, seeing their ranks thinning rapidly against our resistance, fled, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared.
A few arrows had found their mark among the drivers, but the injuries were minor. Gregor had a scratch on his arm, but nothing serious. I was unscathed, thanks to luck and my improved reflexes.
As we tended to the wounded and repaired the minor damage to the wagon, Master Valerius approached me.
"Well done, Falko," he said, a rare smile lighting his face. "You fought well. You've got grit."
Gregor and Roric nodded in agreement. It was the first time they'd shown me such clear approval. A sense of pride washed over me. I had proven myself.
Absorbing the "Vile Essence" from the goblins didn't seem to have any immediate negative effects, but I remained wary. The System didn't always provide all the information.
We resumed our journey, the atmosphere even more tense than before. The ambush had reminded us that the Darkwood was full of dangers.
In the days that followed, we had other encounters. A pack of hungry wild dogs, which we drove off without too much difficulty. A disorganized group of bandits, who fled after Roric took down their leader with a well-aimed arrow. With each confrontation, I gained a few Avarice Points, and my combat experience increased. The "Animal Agility" skill fragment progressed slowly, reaching 50% after the skirmish with the wild dogs.
I also learned a great deal from observing Gregor and Roric. Gregor's brute strength, Roric's precision and cunning. They were experienced warriors, and every piece of advice, every demonstration on their part, was a valuable lesson.
I was beginning to understand that strength didn't just lie in the raw stats of my System, but also in tactics, experience, and the ability to work as a team. Avarice could give me tools, but it was up to me to learn how to use them correctly.
As we finally neared the edge of the Darkwood, I felt different. Stronger, physically and mentally. More confident in my abilities. I had faced danger and survived. I had earned the respect of my comrades-in-arms.
I now had a total of 15 Avarice Points. A respectable sum, which I fully intended to use to improve my stats as soon as we were safe in Valbridge. The hunger of Avarice was still there, but it was now tempered by a more mature understanding of what it took to survive and thrive in this world. It wasn't just about "taking," but also about learning, adapting, and sometimes, fighting alongside others. The road was still long, but I felt I was heading in the right direction.