Kaelen's expression was a masterpiece of skepticism. He listened to my rushed explanation—a carefully edited version that omitted spoilers, systems, and comments—with his arms crossed over his chest. I talked about Old Man Hemlock's knowledge, the dangerous reputation of the Red River Pass, and the merchant's impending doom. I presented it as a village girl's concern for a kindly traveler and a shrewd opportunity for him, the local hero, to earn favor and coin.
I did not mention it was to save my own skin most of all.
"You propose I, a warrior, advise a merchant to take a longer, harder path based on the fears of an old drunk and a girl who reads too many books?" he finally said, his voice flat.
The comment section, which I'd foolishly left unmuted, provided a live critique.
xXShadowBladeXx:Told you. Dude's as subtle as a brick wall.
DragonFan42:Be nice! He's just cautious!
Romance4Ever:Ugh, men. So stubborn. Just flash him a smile, Elara!
I ignored them all, focusing on the stubborn man in front of me. My grip tightened on the map. I had one card left to play. The truth. A sliver of it.
"You felt the strength of that Grimfang, Kaelen," I said, my voice dropping low and serious. "It was stronger than it should have been, wasn't it? Something is wrong in these woods. The normal rules don't apply." I met his gaze, letting him see the genuine fear I felt. "Hemlock says the bandits on that pass are the same. Too strong. Too organized. It's not a risk; it's a certainty. You faced one monster. Would you face a dozen, alone, on their terms?"
I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He looked down at the bandage on his arm, a permanent reminder that he wasn't invincible. My words had struck a chord by appealing to his tactical mind, not his emotions.
"And if this map is wrong?" he asked, though his resistance was clearly weakening.
"Then the merchant loses half a day," I said with a shrug, feigning a nonchalance I didn't feel. "But if I'm right, you save his life, his goods, and his entire operation. What is half a day weighed against that?"
He was silent for a long moment, his eyes studying the worn parchment in my hands. Finally, he let out a short, sharp breath. "Give me the map."
A wave of relief so powerful it made me lightheaded washed over me. I handed it over.
"I will speak to him," Kaelen said, rolling the map up. "But do not expect gratitude if you are wrong."
"I expect nothing," I said truthfully. I just expected to not be dead.
[Sub-Quest: 'The Messenger' Complete!]
[Reward: 15 Plot Deviation Points awarded!]
[Relationship Change: Kaelen's Favor (Curious) -> (Intrigued)]
[PDP: 35]
I watched him stride away, towards the inn where Merchant Rolan was undoubtedly assessing the village's poor offerings. The deal was in motion. Now, all I could do was wait.
The next two days were an agony of tension. I avoided Kaelen, not wanting to field any more questions. I helped my mother with chores, my mind a million miles away, listening for the sound of arriving horses and wagons.
When the caravan finally rumbled into the village, it was a spectacle. Three large, covered wagons, each pulled by a team of four sturdy horses. A dozen guards in polished leather armor walked alongside, their eyes sharp and professional. And at the head of it all was Merchant Rolan, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and shrewd eyes that missed nothing, from the quality of the roof thatching to the sullen, powerful-looking young man waiting for him by the inn.
I watched from the shadow of our cottage as Kaelen approached him. The conversation was short. Kaelen, never one for long speeches, simply unrolled Hemlock's map and pointed. I saw Rolan's eyebrows raise in surprise, then furrow in deep thought. He asked a few questions, his fingers tracing the High Trail on the map. Kaelen answered, his replies short and confident.
I held my breath.
After what felt like an eternity, Merchant Rolan nodded once, a decisive, sharp motion. He clasped Kaelen on the shoulder in thanks and began barking orders to his men. The caravan, which had been preparing to leave, shifted its direction. The lead wagon turned towards the northern path out of the village—the path that led to the base of the High Trail.
It had worked. He'd listened.
My heart soared. This was it. My ticket out.
I grabbed the small bag I'd prepared—a change of clothes, the rest of the bread, and my dwindling courage—and took a deep breath. It was time to cash in my favor.
I walked up to Merchant Rolan as he was checking a wagon's axle. "Master Merchant?" I said, my voice smaller than I intended.
He turned, his eyes appraising me in a second. "Yes, girl? Make it quick, we're on a new schedule."
"The map," I said, pointing vaguely towards Kaelen, who was watching us from a distance. "It was my idea. The man who drew it… he said passage on your wagon to the capital would be payment enough for its use."
Rolan's shrewd eyes narrowed. He looked from me, to Kaelen, and back again. A slow smile spread across his face. He understood the dynamics at play instantly. The hero might have delivered the message, but the brains behind it were standing right in front of him.
"A clever investment," he said, his voice laced with new interest. "Very well. You can ride in the second wagon with my daughter, Linnea. See that you make yourself useful. We don't carry dead weight."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," I said, barely containing my excitement.
I scrambled onto the back of the designated wagon, pulling myself up onto a sack of grain. Inside, a girl about my age with wide, nervous eyes and a kind face smiled shyly at me. Linnea. The girl DragonFan42 had called 'sweet.' The one destined to give Kaelen a potion.
A notification bloomed in my vision, but it wasn't the quest completion I expected.
[Warning: Significant Plot Deviation Imminent.]
[Original Event: 'Ambush at Red River Pass' has been circumvented.]
[Calculating narrative compensation…]
A cold dread pierced my euphoria. Narrative compensation? What did that mean?
Before I could panic, the main quest updated.
[Quest: 'The Great Escape' - Updated!]
[Objective: Survive the journey to the capital.]
[Reward: 100 PDP, 'Merchant's Favor,' 'Map of the Capital (Detailed)']
The goal had changed. It was no longer about ensuring the caravan's survival. It was about ensuring my own.
The wagons began to move, lurching forward onto the rugged path. I looked back at my village, at my mother waving from our doorway, at Kaelen standing still as a statue, watching the caravan—watching me—leave.
We were safe from the bandits. But the plot, it seemed, had other ideas.
The system's warning hung in the air, a chilling promise.
The story wasn't done with me yet.
[Overall Plot Deviation: 7.3%]