Sins of the Forefathers: A LitRPG Fantasy Isekai

Azarus and I traveled in companionable silence for most of the first day. We didn’t even really stop in order to have lunch, we only stopped the cart when the sun went down. Once we did, I helped Azarus set up our campsite for the night. Thankfully, Azarus had remembered to buy some camping supplies while back in Rhoscara. I wanted to help him set up the tent he had bought, but I didn’t really know how to set up an old-fashioned tent. I was only familiar with modern ones from back home that essentially snapped into place. I would have ended up just standing around uselessly, but I did know how to make a campfire, so I busied myself doing that instead.

In no time, our campsite was settled for the night. I found myself staring blankly off into the trees off the side of the path, while Azarus poked idly at the fire with a stick. The sun was going down, I noticed, as if from far away. As the sun set through the trees, I leisurely noted that there was no transition into green light at sunset like there was at sunrise. How the hell that worked one way, but not the other, I had no idea. I’d already resolved to ask Grey, or rather Greycton, about it when I got back to Azarus’s place. He could probably explain it better than Azarus.

Speaking of.

I dragged my eyes over to Azarus to see that he was gazing blankly into the fire like I had been with the sunset. “Hey,” I said to him, quietly.

Slowly, he dragged his gaze up to meet mine and blinked at me. He made an inquisitive noise from the back of his throat.

I leaned back onto my hands. “So, what’s up with you and Ely, anyway?”

His eyebrows rose at my question before he sighed. “Eh, it’s not that complicated. Just…family business, y’know?”

I shrugged my shoulders at his deflection. “I’m interested, and I’ll listen. If it’s not too personal, I mean. She seemed all right to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Azarus muttered under his breath. He took a deep breath before expelling it. “S’got to do with how I’m not a recognized member of House Florens, all right? My ma was a Florens, but my da was a Savoy. Which makes me a member of House Savoy.” He sighed again. “Relations between ‘em ain’t great, to say the least.”

“All right. What does that have to do with you and Ely?” I asked him patiently.

He switched his gaze to over my head. “We may be blood, but she has more to worry about than me. She’s the Prince now, after all. She can’t just bend over backward to help one family member that’s not even fully recognized. And that’s the problem.” Azarus was quiet for a moment before continuing. “When ma died…da didn’t take it well. He fell into a drunken stupor that lasted years. S’what killed him in the end.”

Hmm. I see.

It didn’t match up completely, but I guess we had some things in common. Even though I wasn’t a dwarven noble.

Whatever.

I let Azarus continue speaking.

“After da died, first I came to live in Rhoscara. Nobody within House Savoy wanted to look after me, not even my glorious uncle, the Prince. Not that I would’ve wanted to.” He spit into the fire. “That didn’t work out, so I left for some more… distant relatives.” He smirked at that, amused for some reason.

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, curious.

“I left for the mountain holds,” Azarus said proudly, thumping his chest. My eyebrows shot up at that. From what I remember of what Gren had told me, that had probably really pissed some people off. On both sides of his family. Azarus grinned at the look on my face. “Oh yeah, the old Jarls made me the dwarf I am today! Everything I know, I owe to them. They taught me how to fight, how to smith, and how to be a ‘real’ dwarf.” He finished, in a mocking tone, still grinning.

“I’m surprised they took you in,” I said to him. “From what I understand, there’s some bad blood.”

“Oh, aye.” Azarus nodded. “Like you wouldn’t believe. But they got a kick out of taking in such a blue-blooded noble brat and trying to indoctrinate him. But we ended up getting along just fine after a while. Wasn’t even any bad blood when I eventually left. Still.” He shrugged. “When I came back, I had to work my way back into the good graces of both families. Because of my da, I’m considered more of a Savoy, and Ely can’t show too much favoritism considering that. Which leads me to the current situation.” His faint grin fell off finally. “She knows I’m in a hard place with the whole Grey thing, and has flat-out told me she can’t do anything to get me out of it. I get it. I do. But that don’t help me. So, I gotta help myself. Like always.”

I let out a breath through my nose. I can see how that would cause some hard feelings on his behalf. I can even see why Ely can’t help him out. With him being a sort of fringe member of the House, and not even a full one, it came down to inter-House politics. She would likely be stepping on a bunch of toes by trying to interfere in another House's internal matters if she helped him. From what I had read about dwarven society, that was almost grounds for war. They were really, absurdly big on House sovereignty when it came to matters like this. I didn’t get it, but I didn’t need to. I wasn’t a dwarf in the end.

“I see,” I said quietly, before nodding at him. “Thanks for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

Azarus looked embarrassed at that. “Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s not a secret. You could probably get the story from plenty of other people.” He stood up at that. “Well, I think it’s about time you hit the hay.”

I stood up for a moment before pausing as I registered his words. “I should hit the hay? Not you?”

Azarus nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take first watch tonight. I’ll wake you up later, and you can take second. We’ll switch off tomorrow.”

Oh, right. This wagon wasn’t warded like Gren’s was.

I nodded at Azarus, slightly uneasy. “Well, goodnight then,” I told him before retreating to the tent. Slipping into my bedroll inside, I tried not to think about monster attacks. Before long, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

……………………………………..

The trip back to Addersfield took a bit longer than it had leaving it. We added on another day to the journey, bringing it up to five days versus four. It was a bit more exciting as well, as we actually did get attacked by monsters this time. On the second day of our trip during our lunch, what looked like a feral goat charged out of the bush at us. Bleating and snarling, it looked crazed, with rolling red eyes. Observe told me it was a level five “Wooly Rascal”, but I didn’t get a chance to do much more than that.

With barely anything more than an annoyed glance, Azarus had hurled the spoon he’d been using to eat his oatmeal at the monster. The utensil had spun through the air with unerring accuracy and messily sliced the top of the goat’s skull off, horns and all. I had been so shocked by the sudden attack that I could do nothing but gape at the scene, a spoonful of my own oatmeal dripping in front of my face. Azarus hadn't cared about it at all though, and just retrieved his spoon and finished his lunch. Thankfully, he wiped his spoon down first.

The second time apparently happened while I was sleeping, and Azarus was on his watch. I didn’t hear anything during the attack and didn’t learn until we were back on track the fourth day of travel. He didn’t even tell me what had attacked us, just off-handedly mentioned it during idle conversation.

The people of this planet were really desensitized to the possibility of monster attack, I guess.

The fifth day of travel saw us traveling through familiar woodland. I could tell that we were getting closer to Addersfield. I could recognize some of the landmarks from when we had left. Before long, maybe about midday, I could see the fields. Exchanging a glance with Azarus, I nodded at him and climbed over the back of the seat of the cart, and sat down among the crates. It wouldn’t do for me to be seen sitting with my ‘master’ after all, as if I was an equal or something.

As we exited the forest road and entered the path that wound through the fields to the town, I glanced around, discomforted. It had been a while since I’d seen any of my fellow slaves, and the sight of so many toiling in the fields troubled me.

My eye caught something unusual as I panned my eyes around. Strangely, there was a dwarf out in the fields as well. I couldn’t pretend that I knew what it was like out in the fields all the time, but from my experience and from what I had seen and heard, that almost never happened. Maybe he was subbing in as an overseer or something? Even stranger, he wasn’t watching any of the slaves around him.

He was watching us.

The dwarf, dressed in the armor of one of the town guards, was staring intently at our wagon. It was hard to make out from the distance between us, but he also looked like he had his hand to his mouth. Something about that struck me as strange, but I didn’t know why. Still, I could feel a sense of unease creep down my spine. I tried to shake it off, and tore my gaze away from the dwarf.

After perhaps a half hour, we had made our way through the fields and reached the gates of Addersfield. Like always, there were two of the town guards out front, on either side of the large wooden gate.

Even though they had to have seen us, they weren’t looking at us. Azarus slowed the cart in front of the gates and waited for a moment.

The guards continued to not acknowledge us.

After a minute, Azarus spoke up. “Oi.”

The guards stared at a distant point on the horizon, silent.

I heard Azarus hop down from the cart. Curious, I sat up on my knees and looked over the driver's bench. Azarus was striding over to the guard on the left, visibly annoyed. “OI!” He said in the guard's face, raising his voice.

The guard finally turned his eyes to meet Azarus’s. Even from where I was, I could see the regret in them. “Apologies, Lord Azarus.” He muttered.

Azarus visibly tensed up. He whipped his head around to look at me.

Our eyes met.

His were filled with panic.

Before Azarus had a chance to do anything, the gates in front of me began to groan open. Azarus’s face took a grim countenance, and he turned to face them. I turned to watch as well.

As the gates opened, I could see that there was a crowd on the other side gathered. All of them were part of the town guard. There must have been at the very least thirty of them gathered in front of us, all of them standing at attention. To a one, their hands rested on their sheathed swords, ready to draw in an instance.

Azarus stood up to his full height, but lowered his head as if he was a bull about to charge. Slowly, ponderously, he began to march in order to stand before the large group of guards. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked commandingly in a menacing tone, somehow projecting his voice throughout the gate square.

None of the guards answered him.

Someone else did instead.

“Why, it’s a welcoming ceremony, dear cousin.” A mocking voice called out from behind the group of guards. Wordlessly, without being commanded to, the mass of guards shifted to reveal the owner of the voice.

Magnus.