After a few minutes of walking, David and Daryl came upon an old wooden signpost planted crookedly in the dirt. The arrows pointed in two directions: one etched with "Horax Town", the other carved into the splintering wood with "Forst Valley." Moss clung to the edges, and the lettering looked worn, like travelers hadn't passed through in ages.
David leaned closer, squinting at the sign. "So, uh… what is Forst Valley?"
Daryl's gaze sharpened. "That's where the monsters are. A breeding ground of beasts. You'll also find dungeons there—and, admittedly, good loot if you survive."
David's eyes lit up, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" He spun on his heel and started striding toward the path marked Forst Valley.
Before he could take more than three steps, Daryl's hand shot out and grabbed the edge of David's cloak. He yanked it back sharply—almost too sharply. The cloak slipped down David's shoulder, threatening to reveal far more than intended.
"Hey! HEY—what are you doing?!" David yelped, clutching the cloak and fumbling to pull it back over himself before he ended up mooning the entire forest.
Daryl's tone was calm but firm. "I suggest we do not go there, Mr. Hawk."
David adjusted the cloak with a scowl. "And why not? Think about it—loot means money, money means food, and food means me living longer. Plus, if I fight the monsters, I get stronger. Simple math."
"Indeed," Daryl replied smoothly, "but who will protect you? Your stick?" His eyes flicked disdainfully at the wooden weapon. "Oh, forgive me—I meant Sticky."
David held Sticky close to his chest, feigning offense. "Don't mock him. He's the only one who believes in me." Then he smirked. "Besides, I wouldn't be alone. I'd have you by my side."
Daryl shook his head slowly. "No. No, I shall not be at your side in that valley."
David blinked. "What? But—you're my protector, right? Doesn't that mean wherever I go, you follow?"
"Yes," Daryl said, his voice low, "but protection has limits. I'm not about to throw myself into a nest of beasts when you can easily avoid them."
David frowned, gripping Sticky tighter. "Okay, sure, but let's say I went in there anyway. If I died, what do you think my parents would say, huh? That you let their child die?"
Daryl didn't hesitate. He nodded once. "Yes. Because I would lose nothing from letting you die. And truthfully… even your own parents think you're a waste of money. They would not care either way."
David froze, his smirk fading. His eyes dropped to the dirt road. "Wow… so even here, they don't care for me, huh." His voice was quieter, almost uncertain.
"Indeed," Daryl said flatly. "But I am trying to help you. By leading you away from the valley. By taking you to town. There we can prepare for your meeting with the Duke's son. So… which is it? Die in the forest by your own foolishness, or be smart and come to town?"
David let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping. "…Alright. Fine. Town it is."
"Good," Daryl replied curtly. He walked to a grassy patch near the signpost and sat down, resting his saber across his knees.
David blinked at him. "Uh… what are you doing?"
"Waiting," Daryl said plainly.
"Waiting for what?"
"Our ride, of course."
David tilted his head, confused. "Ride? Like… a horse?"
Daryl's lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Something larger. And faster."
Before David could press further, the distant thundering of hooves echoed from beyond the trees. The ground trembled ever so slightly. David's eyes widened, and he clutched Sticky like a teddy bear.
"…That better be a horse," he muttered.
The rumbling grew louder, closer, until finally a shape burst through the treeline. Daryl's face remained calm, his voice steady.
"Ah. There it is. Our ride."
David's eyes widened as the figure came into full view. It wasn't a mighty steed, nor a sleek carriage. It was… a rickety wooden wagon, pulled by the slowest, most unimpressed-looking donkey David had ever seen.
The donkey let out a tired hee-haw as it plodded down the road.
Daryl gestured toward it with a straight face. "It has arrived."
David's jaw dropped. "THAT'S our ride?!"
"Indeed," Daryl replied, utterly unbothered.
"This looks like something homeless people would ride!" David blurted.
"HEY!" a gravelly voice snapped.
David flinched and turned his head. At the front of the wagon sat an old man with a gray beard, wheat straw sticking out of his mouth. His eyes were sharp despite the wrinkles, and his hands gripped the reins like he owned the road itself.
The old man leaned forward. "This 'thing,' boy, has carried over ten million people through these roads over the years. You best show it some respect."
David's bravado crumbled instantly. He waved his hands frantically. "O-okay, okay! You're right, sir! My bad. Total respect. The utmost respect."
As he lowered his hands, a glowing hologram flickered before him.
[Relationship Score Updated: Daryl Tetsu — -100 → -98]
David blinked, stunned. Wait… it went up? He darted a glance at Daryl, who was studiously looking away as if he hadn't noticed.
The old man snapped his fingers, jolting David back to the moment. "So, you want a ride or not?"
"Yes! Yes, please," David said quickly.
"Good. The cost will be—" The old man squinted, tilting his head at David. His eyes widened with recognition. "Wait a minute. I know you. You're Hawk Mather, ain't ya?"
David's blood ran cold. "Uhhh, well…"
Daryl stepped in smoothly, without hesitation. "Yes. This is Mr. Hawk."
The old man's smile twisted into something sly. "Ohhh, well if that's the case, the cost just went up. Was gonna say five coins. Now it'll be fifty."
"FIFTY COINS?!" David practically choked.
"That's right," the old man said matter-of-factly. "Because your family's rich. And more importantly… you're an asshole."
David's face scrunched in disbelief. "No, no, no—hell no! I, uh, I demand—yes, demand—that you let us ride for free!"
The old man spat to the side, chewing his wheat stalk. "Oh, I would let you on for free. But like I said, you're rich and you're an asshole. If you weren't rich, maybe free. If you weren't an asshole, maybe seventeen coins. But here we are."
Inside David's mind, gears started turning. I could kill him right now… use the goblin's knife, or just bash him with Sticky… nah. Too messy. I've got a better idea.
Smirking, David reached into the air and pulled something out of thin air—an old, polished cane with a silver handle. The cane he had swiped earlier.
Both Daryl and the old man's eyes went wide. "HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!" they shouted in unison.
David blinked innocently. "Wait—you guys can't pull stuff out of your inventory?"
"Inventory?" Daryl repeated, narrowing his eyes.
"No," the old man said flatly. "That's not… normal."
"Right, right," David said quickly, waving it off. He turned to the old man with a salesman's grin. "But anyway… how's your back?"
The old man's brows furrowed. "…Bad. Quite bad, honestly. Why do you ask?"
David raised the cane like a prized artifact. "Because, good sir, I happen to be in possession of something that might interest you. Behold—an enchanted cane. Only fifty coins."
"F-fifty?!" the old man sputtered.
"Mr. Hawk—" Daryl started, suspicion sharp in his voice.
David slapped a hand over his mouth. "Shh-shh-shh. Don't ruin the magic." He turned back to the old man, keeping his grin wide. "This cane? It'll cure your back pain forever. Got it off a witch myself. Traded her a, uh… legendary octopus heart. Very rare. Very expensive. And now I'm offering it to you—for the low, low price of fifty coins."
The old man rubbed his beard, clearly tempted. His eyes darted to his donkey, then back to the cane. "…Back's been killing me for years. Doctor charges too much anyway…"
David leaned in, lowering his voice. "This cane doesn't just help your back—it makes you younger every time you use it."
The old man's jaw dropped slightly. He stared at the cane, then at David, then sighed heavily. "…Fine. Deal."
Grinning from ear to ear, David shook his hand firmly. The old man passed him a small leather pouch that jingled with coins. In return, David handed over the cane with a dramatic flourish.
"Pleasure doing business with you," David said smoothly. "Now… about that free ride to Horax Town?"
The old man gave him a tired glare, then sighed again. "…Hop in the back."
"Don't mind if I do!" David said cheerfully, climbing aboard. He shot Daryl a smug look, waggling his eyebrows. "See? Who's the real genius now?"
Daryl rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'll give you credit for one thing, Mr. Hawk… you're persistent. Annoyingly persistent."
David leaned back in the wagon, hands behind his head, grinning like he had just robbed a king.