"I feel sorry for the people who feel they need the embrace of the abyss," May said with a solemn voice.
"What are you sorry for? It is their decision," Heron said.
"You might be right that I shouldn't be sad. But I just can't get myself not to care. What must have happened that you have come to such a point in life where you wish for eternal darkness than to join the creators?" May asked.
"You make an interesting point," Heron concurred. "Well, we can't know unless they tell us."
"Too bad they've been killing themselves before clergy can get any answers. I can't imagine what they think they know that is so important." Almir said.
"Well, I, for one, think they got their hands on some powerful drugs and they lost their minds," Lucia interjected.
"I don't see why we need to theorize. It is just a matter of time before someone talks and we get answers." Icarus said. "And from what I heard from Irene, I think we should let Heron go back to his tavern and rest."
"It's okay, I can still stay," Heron said.
"It's not the matter if you can, it is if you should. And the answer is no, you need to rest." It was Irene who stepped in. "So, you best be going now. Rest so you can meet up with Richard regarding the item."
Heron bowed his head. "Well, everyone, I am honored to be joining you, and I'll listen to our healer and head out."
"Heron, I'll drop by the tavern tomorrow morning, so be up around eight." Richard added as Heron walked towards the door. Heron showed the okay sign with his hand and walked out.
"Good morning," Richard waved to Heron as he was coming down the stairs. Heron waved back.
"Good morning, sir," Heron bowed and sat down at the table.
"So, let me cut to the chase. It is about the item." Richard said.
"Yes, it is not on me. It will take me about a day to get it," Heron said. "I just need to get a ride to the location and back."
"What is the location of the item?" Richard asked.
"It is where Haugstad used to be."
"Ah, ok, so we can make it there and back before the evening."
"Oh, you don't need to come with me," Heron waved away. "I can just go by myself."
"And risk you getting robbed? Don't be ridiculous. Order your breakfast and then we better get going."
"Whoa," Heron said, staring at the vehicle parked in front of the tavern.
The cabriolet gleamed with its open roof, brass-plated body, and a tangle of copper pipes feeding a compact steam boiler up front.
"I agree you don't see many of these around town," Richard proudly said. "They are expensive. I mean, just look at those wheels. They are thick and iron-rimmed. Ready to handle any dirt road."
"If you say so," Heron was scratching his head. "I don't know a single thing about these vehicles."
"Well, for starters, this one is called a cabriosteamer. Special type of steam car. It may attract attention on the road, but it is one of the fastest vehicles around. So, in the case of a bandit raid, we have the speed advantage."
"I guess it is good to know?" Heron wasn't sure if that was the best-selling point for the car.
"Now hop on in. I barely had time to drive it. I rented it this morning."
"So it is not your car, sir?"
"No way. It's too expensive to afford. And also outside this mission, not really practical. But with such nice weather, it would be a shame not to ride one. Now come on, let's get going."
Heron settled into the passenger seat, sinking into the dark leather.
"Comfortable, isn't it?" Richard smirked as he adjusted a few levers on the dashboard.
"I… guess," Heron muttered, running his fingers along the stitched seam of the seat. "Feels like I shouldn't be sitting on something this expensive."
"That's what the cleaning fee is for," Richard said, completely unbothered. "Now hold on."
He pulled a brass lever forward, and the cabriosteamer lurched to life with a throaty hiss. Steam puffed from the pipe behind them, rising in a white coil into the crisp morning air. The engine's rhythm settled into a confident thrum.
They rolled out from the front of the tavern and onto the main street.
The wheels crunched over the last stretch of cobblestones as they approached the gate.
"Good morning," Richard greeted the guard as he pulled over, pulling out his adventurer card. "We are going on a brief trip to a nearby village. Can you let us through?"
"Yes, sir Pridens," the guard nodded and opened up the gates.
With the walls behind them, the road was giving way to open fields and the winding dirt road ahead.
"All right," Richard said, tapping a valve with unnecessary enthusiasm. "Let's see what she can do."
He pressed down on the accelerator.
The cabriosteamer surged forward with a sharp release of pressure. Ffsshhht! And the world blurred just a little. Wind whipped Heron's hair back. Richard grinned like a madman.
Heron gripped the side rail, laughing under his breath despite himself.
They reached the ruins in about three hours. With the speed the cabriosteamer was going, they didn't get a chance to talk, as the sound of the engine giving its all was just too loud.
As they exited the car, in front what once were gates of the village, they were covered in dirt.
"Well, I guess I overdid it. Clothes washing is on me." Richard smiled.
Heron was caught off by this side of Richard. He was used to seeing him as the strict, straight-backed leader. But out here, with dust on his boots and laughter still lingering on his face, he looked warmer. More human. Almost like someone Heron could forget to be nervous around.
"Thank you, sir?" Heron didn't know how to address the situation.
"Oh, I'm sorry if it was too much. We'll have more time going back, so I'm going to drive slower. I just got excited. There are few chances like this during missions, so don't get used to this. Now lead the way." Richard gestured to him.
"The soul crystal is hidden in the old mill," Heron said. "It is about a fifteen-minute walk."
They headed down the narrow path toward the mill between overgrown grass and foundations of what were houses. Some stone walls and wooden beams still stood solid, though time had softened their edges.
Richard stepped in behind him and took a slow breath. "Hard to imagine the entire village went up in flames," he murmured.
"They still haven't caught all the people responsible," Heron said.
"It is only a matter of time. Crimes such as these don't get overlooked, even if the victims were villagers."
As they entered the mill, Heron went straight to the corner where the grain was stored.
A small heap of old wheat on top of the door, now pale as straw, brittle to the touch. Only fresh traces were his from several days before. When he brushed it aside, the stalks broke into thin flakes, scattering like dry parchment.
Beneath them, the outline of the small floor panel appeared.
"Here," Heron said.
He pulled the latch. The square door lifted with a tired creak, revealing the small room below. Inside, exactly where he'd placed it six years ago, sat the cloth pouch. A thin film of dust coated it, but the fabric had held up.
Heron reached down, closing his fingers around the pouch.
"I've got it," he said quietly.
"And you haven't opened this pouch?" Richard asked.
"I looked inside when I came back to check on it before. But I haven't touched it. I remember that much."
"Alright, I trust you. Hand over the pouch then," Richard ordered. Heron complied.
Richard untied the pouch, and a faint blue glow lit up from within.
"You really were telling the truth," Richard smiled as his eyes gleamed at the flowing white sparks.