He approached one of the wagons, where a Black-haired woman with a stern expression and a scar on her cheek was unloading crates of fruits and vegetables. "Excuse me," he called out, his voice sounding foreign even to his own ears. "Could you use some help?"
The woman looked up, surprise flickering in her deep brown eyes. She looked at his worn clothes and the book tucked under his arm. "You don't look like you're from around here," she said gruffly. "But if you've got two hands and a strong back, you might be of use."
Lucius nodded eagerly, stepping forward to help her with the crates. His heart was racing, but he managed a smile. "I'm Lucius. What's your name?"
"I'm Marla," she said, handing him a crate with a grunt. "Where are you from?"
Her question hit him like a blow to the chest. "From... here," he replied, hoping that his vagueness would suffice. "But I was born in the heart of Thalyon."
Marla raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more. They worked in a brisk silence, the only sounds the rustling of fabric and the thud of the crates as they hit the ground. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the town.
"Tell me, where are you from?" He finally asked to break the silence.
Marla wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge of dirt behind. "We hail from the Duchy of Velmora," she said, her eyes not meeting his. "Far to the north-west."
Suddenly, the sound of the quill resounded in Lucius' mind. It became more and more frantic, scribbling on the pages of knowledge that lay dormant in the book.
„So the book makes notes based on conversations as well.... It's almost as if it needs a «trigger» to reveal them to me." Lucius thought as he worked alongside Marla.
He noticed that the caravanners had set up a makeshift tavern in the corner of the market square. The aroma of ale and roasting meats grew stronger, and the sound of laughter and bartered deals filled the air. His stomach rumbled again, a stark reminder of his hunger.
"Marla," he ventured, hoping to steer the conversation towards a more personal topic, "what brings you to Vantshade?"
Marla paused in her work, glancing at him with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "We're merchants," she said, her voice measured. "We travel from town to town, trading what we can find. Sometimes we bring news, sometimes we bring goods people can't live without."
Her eyes searched his, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. She was sizing him up, trying to determine if he was a threat or an opportunity.
"I know that," he finally said, and his grip on the box he was holding tightened. "But this is your first time here in Vantshade. I thought caravans had fixed paths and routes." He didn't know if this was really their first time in Vantshade, but based on the scenes of their arrival, he made that conclusion.
Marla nodded, her expression unreadable. "Times are changing, and so are our routes. The roads have become dangerous with bandits and other threats. A dragon was reportedly seen on our usual route. We don't want to take any risks, therefore the alternative route."
„Dragons?!" Lucius' eyes widened, but he kept his voice calm. "Sounds like quite the adventure. What do you usually trade?" He tried to keep the conversation flowing, hoping to glean more information about the world he found himself in.
Marla's expression softened a bit, and she gestured towards the tavern. "Before I tell you that, let's get something to eat. I can't talk on an empty stomach."
She led him to the makeshift tavern where the burly man with the thick beard was sitting, surrounded by other members of the caravan.
The man studied Lucius and nodded curtly, then his gaze drifted to Marla. "Tell me, who is your new friend?"
"This is Lucius," Marla said in a voice that was a little too loud to sound casual. "He helped me with the unloading."
The burly man with the eye patch inspected him from top to bottom, a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand. "Ah, then you've earned yourself a reward," he said, waving in the direction of the cook, a man turning the skewers of meat over the fire.
Lucius felt a sigh of relief. He was accepted, at least for the time being. And he finally got something to eat.
The food was simple but delicious. He listened intently as Marla spoke of their wares. They traded in exotic spices from the East, rare fabrics from the South, and precious metals from the mines of the West.
As he took a sip of the surprisingly good ale, his eyes wandered to the book he had placed next to him.
The stocky man with the eye patch, who introduced himself as Garrick, took a moment to wipe his greasy hands on a piece of cloth before extending it to Lucius. "You seem like a man with a story to tell," he said with a gruff chuckle. "Your eyes give it away."
Marla shot Garrick a warning glance, but the man ignored her. "We've all got stories, don't we?" Lucius replied. "Some of us just keep them closer to our chests than others."
Garrick's laugh boomed through the tavern, drawing a few curious glances. "Aye, that we do." His one good eye twinkled with mischief.
Marla set down her tankard and leaned closer to Lucius. Her arm lay elegantly on his shoulder. "Why don't you come with us?" she asked quietly.
Her proposal caught him off guard. "With you?" he repeated, his voice cracking slightly.
"Ignore her!" Garrick's voice rang out. "As soon as she's drunk a little too much, she'll wrap her arms around every guy in the area."
Marla rolled her eyes. "I'm serious," she said to Lucius. "We're heading to Thalyon tomorrow. I thought you might want to go back to your homeland."
„Thalyon would definitely give me the best chance of finding out what this world is..." The mention of Thalyon got his thoughts flowing. „Besides, I already have a lot of information thanks to the book!" He slid his hand over it briefly.
"I'd be grateful for the company, and the opportunity," Lucius said, his voice earnest.
Marla nodded, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Good. We leave at first light. You can sleep in one of the wagons tonight."
....
Later in the evening.
The village was now quiet and most of the people were already asleep. Lucius was sitting by the campfire, looking at it, lost in thoughts.
„So peaceful... For the first time in ages, I feel... alive. Ironic, considering my suicide brought me here. Whatever this is... I'm going to try to enjoy every moment. This is.... like a second chance of a new life." He thought as the flames danced in the night, painting the faces of the sleeping caravanners with flickering shadows.