“That’s at least eight feet,” Esteban muttered, looking at the rock he had placed on the opposite bank. He did not know how far he could jump before his recent surge in power, but it had to be less than eight feet.
The sack he carried weighed next to nothing. Granted, he had finished the meat and most of the bread and cheese over the past three days. It now held only his blood-mottled clothes, the few remaining scraps of food, the gold watch he had taken from the ruins, and a dull Soulgem that was left behind when the Echo died. He looked at the oval black gem, and let out a regretful sigh. The gems were used to empower items with magic, and they were worth a good amount of coin. But this one was dull, void of any magic. Still, it could be recharged, so it was worth a few bits.
Esteban used every opportunity to test his new strength. He found himself picking up large fallen branches to move aside, instead of simply stepping around them. He would hoist himself up into the trees to inspect his surroundings, even when unnecessary.
During one such attempt, he gripped a thick oak branch to pull himself up. He had underestimated his strength and launched himself upward with an unexpected speed, slamming his head against the branch. He tumbled back to the ground, dazed. As his vision cleared, however, he couldn’t help but grin. His newfound strength was intoxicating, but he hadn’t yet learned the finesse to properly steer it.
Sitting by the stream, Esteban ate the stale bread with a chunk of white cheese. He reflected on his encounter with the Echo. It had taught him much.
He now knew that completing a cycle enabled him to strengthen the stars of power, and that fulfilling covenants rewarded him with Essence. That was yet another reason to join a Culling House. Killing Echoes infused the Ring with essence, and there was no better way to face more Echoes than to join the culls.
He also realized that the Ring reflected his physical state. Right now, it was intact and whole. But as he lay near death following his battle against the Echo, the Ring had been cracked, parts of it even shattered. Completing the circle had mended his flesh, and with it, the Ring.
Not completely mended, he thought, looking down at his heavily scarred arm.
If he was to continue fighting, which was the plan, then he needed a more reliable way to heal his injuries. This problem was not unique to his situation; even well-equipped Threshers from the richest Culling Houses rarely had healers to accompany them. Healers existed, but they were exceptionally rare. Esteban couldn’t recall exactly why, but he remembered that only the most powerful of the Bound could hope to become one.
Potions suffered the same issue. Alchemists capable of imbuing tinctures with magic were as rare as healers. Every town had an apothecary, of course, but those were run by men using mundane ingredients, possessing no magical power.
He stood and resumed his journey north. As he had for the past two days, he stuck to the lush parts of the forest, veering away from even the slightest change that signaled the possible influence of an Echo portal.
It came as a surprise when he found himself looking at the road again. Since killing the Bound in Oakhaven, he had used the sun to navigate north, sticking to the cover of dense trees. But there it was, stretching to the horizon, trees lining one side, while the other bordered tilled fields sparsely dotted with farmhouses.
Esteban did not know exactly where he was, only that Estoril was still several days away. He stepped back behind the tree line and continued north, keeping the road in sight.
The sun was setting, and he scanned the trees for a place to spend the night. He had been sleeping on high branches since his encounter with the Echo, as it was safer than being exposed on the ground.
That’s when he spotted a campfire in a clearing near the road, surrounded by four men. Two horses were tethered to a nearby tree, standing next to a large cart stacked with linen sacks and wooden chests.
Traveling merchants.
Esteban weighed his options. Revealing himself carried a risk. He was a wanted criminal, after all. However, his growing beard might make him less recognizable.
He stroked the stubble. He hadn’t grown it out since his mid-teens, back when he was trying to look older than he was. That was almost a decade ago.
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On the other hand, he needed something to cover his bare chest. He hadn’t worn his bloodied shirt since the battle in Oakhaven. The late spring weather was mild, and his wool cloak was sufficient to warm him at night. But he couldn’t enter Estoril bare-chested and hope to remain unnoticed.
He stepped into the clearing. One of the men noticed him immediately and spoke to the others. They all turned to look at him. He waved his hand in greeting as he closed the distance, the savory smell of stew making his mouth water.
“Good evening,” he called out once he was within earshot.
“Evening, stranger,” a man in his fifties replied, a warm smile on his face.
“Are you heading to Estoril?” Esteban asked, stopping a few feet from the fire.
A gruff man with a square jaw and shaved head scoffed. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
The older man chuckled. “Don’t mind Bruce, he gets cranky when he’s hungry.” He motioned to an empty spot on the ground. “We’re having lamb stew. Care to join us?”
Esteban nodded and sat down.
“To answer your question, no. We came from Estoril. Is that where you’re headed?”
“Yes. I’m looking to join the Culling House. Make some coin.”
The gruff man scoffed again.
“Ah, I remember when I was young and my heart yearned for the glory of battle.” The older man stuck a ladle into the stew and poured some into a wooden bowl.
It was snatched from his hand by the man sitting next to him. He had long blond hair tied in a braid, the fire reflecting in his intense blue eyes. “Cut the shit, Jon. I’ve known you for twenty years. You’ve never yearned for anything but coin.”
The men laughed as Jon filled another bowl and handed it to Esteban.
“Thank you. This is delicious,” Esteban said, taking a spoonful.
The broth was rich and salty, coating his tongue with the taste of fresh herbs and rendered fat. The meat fell apart as he chewed it, a welcome change from the stale bread and hard cheese he had survived on the past few days.
“Where in the Six Spheres is your shirt?” the fourth man asked, his eyes on Esteban’s bare chest.
“Got tangled in a branch and was torn. So, I threw it away,” Esteban lied.
“Watch out for this one. Tito has an eye for strapping lads,” the blond man said.
Tito smirked. “Your mother can attest to the opposite.” He looked back at Esteban. “We have a selection of leather jerkins that would go perfectly with those leggings. Real affordable, too.”
“Let the man enjoy his stew, for heaven’s sake,” Jon said.
Tito nodded. “You’re right. We should get him comfortable first, then we’ll hustle him.”
The men laughed again.
“I do need a jerkin. Unfortunately, I don’t have any coin.”
Esteban reached into his sack, feeling for the gold watch. This was a risk, but selling it in Estoril would be even riskier, and these men seemed friendly enough.
“I do have this, however.” He held the watch for them to see.
The mood shifted, and the four went silent.
Bruce finally spoke. “I had a feeling you were trouble.”
Esteban tensed, readying himself to flee, but he tried to keep a calm demeanor. “I didn’t steal it or nothing. I found it in one of the Fallen ruins a few days south.”
“You shouldn’t have taken it. Everything in the ruins belongs to the Valyr,” Jon whispered.
Esteban’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fist. “Is that so? Well, fuck the Valyr.”
He said it louder than intended. The men fell silent again, until Tito burst out laughing.
He threw an arm around Esteban’s shoulders. “I really like this one!”
The men relaxed, and the mood lightened. Except for Bruce, who sat with his arms crossed, staring daggers at Esteban.
“I don’t know if you’re telling the truth,” Jon said. “And to be honest, I don’t care where you got that watch. May I see it?”
Esteban hesitated before handing the watch to Jon. The merchant looked at it with reverent eyes, wiping a smudge of dirt with his thumb. He held it up to the firelight, examining the interlocking blocks that made up its band.
“Look at all of these impossibly fine details,” he murmured. “They say the Fallen used machines to create their miracles. Those machines must have been miracles themselves.” He let out a longing sigh.
“It is truly beautiful,” he said, handing it back. “But I would need to melt it and have it minted. That carries a huge risk. I couldn’t give you much for it.”
“I don’t need much. I’ll trade it for a leather jerkin, straight up.”
Jon looked into the distance, rubbing his chin. “You seem like a nice lad, and I want to be honest with you. It is worth a lot more than that, risk and all.”
“I’ll be honest with you as well. I need to be presentable if I’m to be accepted into the Culling House. Trying to sell this watch in the city would bring a lot of questions…”
“That’s true. Nobody likes a thief,” Bruce interrupted.
Esteban ignored him. “So, it’s not about what it’s worth. It’s about what I need right now. I don’t need a gold watch. If it makes the deal fairer, then you can throw in a loaf of bread. I’m running low on food.”
Jon smiled. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, then you have a deal.”
The blond man went to the parked cart and returned with three different leather jerkins. The first was too tight, but the other two fit well. Esteban chose the one dyed a dark blue that matched the color of the leggings. It was thick and sturdy, and he could tell from the precise cuts and even stitching that it was the work of a skilled artisan.
Jon threw in a loaf of bread and two smoked halibut. He also agreed to buy the Soulgem for ten copper bits. He did not ask where Esteban had gotten it.
Upon Jon’s insistence, Esteban spent the night at the merchant’s camp. He headed back into the woods at the break of dawn, while the others still slept.

