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Chapter 8 - First Steps

The forest path stretched before them, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves.

Ash took a deep breath of the pine-scented air, savoring the simple pleasure of being outside after weeks confined to Kalen's cabin.

His legs still felt weak, his body not yet recovered to its former strength, but the sword fragment in his chest seemed to pulse with energy, supporting him when his muscles threatened to fail.

"Not too fast," Kalen cautioned, walking beside him with the practiced patience of a man accustomed to long journeys. "We've got all day, and the village isn't going anywhere."

Ash nodded, consciously slowing his pace.

After nearly a month of recovery, Kalen had finally deemed him strong enough for the journey to Riverend, the small village where the older man occasionally traded for supplies.

The prospect of seeing other people, of testing his new identity in the world beyond the cabin, filled Ash with equal parts anticipation and anxiety.

"Remember what we practiced," Kalen continued, his voice low despite the empty forest around them. "Shoulders relaxed, not squared. Let your gaze wander rather than making direct eye contact. And for God's sake, watch your speech."

"I know," Ash replied, deliberately dropping the 'g' as he added, "Been practicin' every day."

Kalen grunted approval at the affected common accent. Over the past weeks, he had drilled Ash relentlessly on the mannerisms and speech patterns of ordinary citizens, lessons that often left the former prince frustrated but gradually more convincing in his disguise.

"The story?" Kalen prompted.

"I'm your nephew," Ash recited, keeping his voice casual as they'd practiced. "Visiting from Coldwater after my father, your brother, died last winter. I'm a scribe's son looking for work, staying with you while I recover from a fever."

"And if anyone asks about the war?"

Ash's step faltered slightly at the word. "War? You said it was just a coup."

Kalen's weathered face grew grim. "Things have escalated since you've been recovering. The Eastern Kingdoms are using the change in leadership as an excuse to press territorial claims. Border skirmishes have begun."

The news shouldn't have surprised Ash. The alliance Varius had formed with foreign powers would inevitably come with costs, likely territorial concessions that the general had deemed acceptable in exchange for support.

But hearing that actual fighting had broken out sent a chill through him. The Valerian Empire had maintained peace for generations through strength and diplomacy. How quickly that legacy had unraveled.

"If asked," Kalen prompted again, "you say?"

Ash composed himself. "I say I know little of politics. That I was ill during the transition and heard only what travelers told my uncle."

"Good." Kalen adjusted the pack on his shoulder, containing goods to trade in the village.

"The less interest you show in current events, the better. Curious young men draw attention."

They walked in silence for a time, Ash focusing on maintaining his commoner's gait slightly slouched, less precise than his royal posture.

The physical changes to his appearance had progressed well. His once silver-blonde hair was now a consistent dark brown, and a short beard had begun to cover his jaw, further disguising his features.

Combined with his still-gaunt face from the weeks of recovery, he looked nothing like the Third Prince of the Valerian Empire.

But would it be enough? The thought nagged at him with each step toward civilization.

"Kalen," he said after a while, "have you heard anything about... survivors? From the imperial family?"

The older man gave him a sharp look. "Official word says there were none. The entire Valerian line was eliminated that night." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Why do you ask?"

Ash shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Just curious. Dynasties that old often have distant relatives, cousins somewhere."

"If they exist, they're keeping their heads down," Kalen replied. "Anyone with Valerian blood would be hunted mercilessly. Varius can't afford loose ends."

The confirmation of what Ash already suspected settled heavily in his chest. He was alone truly, completely alone. Whatever path lay ahead, he would walk it without the support of family connections or loyal retainers.

Just himself, his mysterious awakening System, and this gruff former soldier who had saved him without knowing his true identity.

"Look there," Kalen said, pointing ahead where the path curved. "See that break in the trees? That's the edge of the forest. Riverend lies just beyond."

Ash followed his gesture, noting the brightening of light where the dense forest gave way to cleared land. His heart rate increased slightly at the prospect of encountering other people.

Would his disguise hold? Would someone somehow recognize him despite the changes?

"Nervous?" Kalen asked, reading his expression.

"A bit," Ash admitted.

"Good. Nervousness will help you stay alert." Kalen stopped, turning to face him fully. "Listen carefully. Riverend is a small place, just a few hundred people. They know me as a hermit who trades occasionally but keeps to himself. You appearing with me will cause talk no matter what, but how much talk depends on you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you need to be forgettable," Kalen explained. "Answer questions directly but briefly. Don't volunteer information. Show appropriate interest in people without being too curious. Be polite but not memorable."

The instruction ran counter to everything Ash had been taught as a prince. His education had emphasized making impressions, commanding attention, and being the center around which others orbited.

To deliberately fade into the background required a fundamental shift in mindset.

"I understand," he said, though uncertainty lingered.

Kalen seemed to sense his doubt. "Think of it as a role in a play. You're not a prince pretending to be common, you are Ash the scribe's son. Inhabit the character completely."

The advice resonated with unexpected clarity.

As a child, Ash had enjoyed the theatrical performances at court, sometimes even participating in the elaborate pageants staged for important visitors.

He had always had a talent for mimicry, for adopting the mannerisms and speech patterns of others. A skill that had occasionally gotten him into trouble when he imitated the wrong dignitary within earshot.

"A role in a play," he repeated, straightening slightly before deliberately allowing his shoulders to relax into a commoner's slouch. "I can do that."

"Good." Kalen clapped him on the shoulder. "One more thing before we reach the village. People will be curious about your relationship with me. I've never mentioned family before."

"What should I say if they ask directly?"

"The truth, as we've constructed it. You're my brother's son from the north. I haven't seen you since you were small, but you reached out after your father's death." Kalen's expression softened slightly. "Family looks after family, even estranged family."

Something in the older man's tone suggested this wasn't merely part of their fabricated story. Ash wondered, not for the first time, what had led Kalen to leave imperial service and isolate himself in the forest. What family connections had he severed or lost?

"Thank you," Ash said quietly. "For everything you've done for me."

Kalen waved away the gratitude with characteristic gruffness. "Save your thanks for when we've successfully navigated the village without incident. Now, remember your role and follow my lead."

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