The road to Millhaven curved through rolling hills that grew steeper as they climbed. Mike's thighs burned from gripping Daisy's sides, but his riding had improved dramatically. Every shift in the knights' posture, every subtle adjustment they made, fed into his Enhanced Perception and translated into incremental improvements.
"Your seat's getting better," Sister Mara observed. "Another day and you'll pass for a proper horseman."
"Just trying not to fall off," Mike said, though privately he was pleased. The skill progression wasn't showing in his status yet, but he could feel the difference. His body anticipated Daisy's movements now instead of fighting them.
Adrian rode beside him, eyes constantly scanning the terrain. The young hunter had barely spoken since leaving the waystation, lost in thoughts Mike could guess at. The decision to leave everything familiar couldn't be easy.
"Regrets?" Mike asked quietly.
Adrian started, then shook his head. "No. Maybe. It's complicated." He adjusted his grip on the reins. "Yesterday I threw a spear into a Level 73 creature's mouth. Me. A Level 20 hunter who's never faced anything stronger than a territorial boar."
"And?"
"And I want to do it again. Not the terror part, I thought my heart would explode. But that moment when everything clicked, when I saw the opening and just... acted." Adrian's hands tightened on the leather. "Is that wrong? To want that?"
Mike thought of his old life. Safe. Predictable. Meetings about meetings. Spreadsheets and quarterly reports. He'd been content enough, but had he ever felt truly alive the way he had yesterday, dancing on the edge of death?
"I don't think it's wrong. Dangerous, maybe. But not wrong."
A horn blast from ahead cut off Adrian's response. One of the lead knights pointed to a cluster of buildings visible through the trees. "Riverside Inn, Lord Aldric. We can rest the horses."
"Good. We're making excellent time." Aldric raised his voice. "Brief stop only. We push on to Millhaven before dark."
The inn sat at a crossroads where a smaller track joined the main road. A modest establishment with stables attached, it served travelers moving between villages.
"Let me check your ribs," Sister Mara said, approaching with practiced efficiency.
"They're fine. Healing well."
"Humor me." She placed a hand against his side, and Mike felt the familiar tingle of magical assessment. Her eyes widened slightly. "Remarkable. Most men would still be bedridden."
"Good constitution," Mike said, which wasn't entirely a lie. His enhanced body did heal faster than normal, even without actively using Biorhythm Restoration.
The inn's proprietor, a nervous man with thinning hair, rushed out to greet them. "Lord Aldric! An honor! Please, come in. We have ale andâ¦"
"Just water for the horses, Hendrik. We can't linger." Aldric's tone was kind but firm. "How fares the road ahead?"
"Quiet, my lord. Travelers have been scarce since word spread about the forest troubles. Though..." Hendrik glanced around nervously. "There was an odd fellow through here yesterday. Foreign-looking. Asked strange questions."
Mike's attention sharpened. "Strange how?"
Hendrik seemed to notice Mike for the first time, taking in his damaged vest and the way the knights deferred to him. "Asked about ancient ruins, my lord. Wanted to know about old stones and forgotten places. Said he was a scholar, but..." He shrugged. "Didn't look like any scholar I've seen. Too many scars."
Aldric and Mike exchanged glances. "Did he say where he was headed?"
"North, toward Millhaven. Though he seemed more interested in the eastern paths, toward the capital"
Mike started to make some educated guesses. Foreign scholar. Interest in ruins. Scars suggesting combat experience. Timing coinciding with the Behemoth's emergence. His mind rapidly assembled possibilities, none of them reassuring.
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"Did he give a name?" Aldric pressed.
"Korvaine, I think. Or something like that. Foreign name."
They absorbed this information while the horses drank. Mike caught Adrian watching him with curious eyes.
"You think this scholar's connected to the Behemoth?" the young hunter asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe he's investigating the same thing we are."
"Either way, we should be careful."
They remounted and continued north. The road improved as they neared Millhaven, packed earth giving way to fitted stones. Traffic increased too. Farmers bringing goods to market, merchants with loaded wagons, travelers seeking the safety of walls.
Many recognized Lord Aldric, calling out greetings or bowing from the roadside. Mike noticed how the lord acknowledged each one, sometimes by name. Not the distant aristocrat Mike had expected, but a leader who knew his people. Still, the impression he got from the huntersâ comments lingered on.
"There," Aldric said, pointing ahead. "Millhaven."
The city rose from the convergence of two rivers, bridges spanning the water like stone fingers. Walls of gray stone enclosed buildings that climbed the hillside in orderly tiers. Not a huge city by Mike's old world standards, but impressive for a market town. Smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys. The sound of daily life carried on the wind - wheels on stone, merchants hawking wares, children laughing.
"It's bigger than I expected," Adrian breathed.
"Two thousand souls, give or take," Sister Mara said. "More when you count the farmers who come for market days."
They approached the southern gate, where guards in Aldric's colors stood watch. The men straightened as they recognized their lord, but Mike caught the tension in their stances. Word of the forest troubles had reached here.
"Lord Aldric!" The gate captain saluted. "We weren't expecting you back so soon."
"Emergency return, Captain Thorne. â Aldric gave the captain an appreciating look. âI will update you in due course.â
Aldric glanced at Mike and Adrian. "You're my guests until you decide otherwise. The castle has rooms prepared."
They rode through streets that mixed prosperity with concern. Shops remained open, business continued, but Mike noticed the increased guard patrols. The way mothers kept children close. The nervous glances toward the forest-facing walls.
The castle crowned the highest hill, a practical fortification rather than a fairy tale palace. Square towers, thick walls, murder holes above the gate. Built for defense, not beauty.
They dismounted in the inner courtyard. Servants appeared to take the horses, their efficiency speaking of long practice. Mike grabbed his pack, wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into. Guest of the Lord Governor was several steps up from anonymous traveler.
"Thomas," Aldric called to a well-dressed servant. "Prepare two rooms in the guest wing. Hot water for baths, fresh clothes if we have anything that fits." He glanced at Mike's ruined vest. "And send for Allen the armorer. Our friends need proper equipment."
"At once, my lord."
Adrian looked overwhelmed by the sudden luxury. Mike sympathized. Yesterday they'd been fighting for their lives in the forest. Now servants scurried to prepare baths. Still, he wished he could take a warm long shower back home.
"I need to report to the council," Aldric said. "Rest, recover. We'll speak more at dinner." He paused, studying Mike. "Unless you'd prefer to attend the council meeting? Your insights about the Behemoth might prove valuable."
The invitation surprised Mike. Council meetings meant politics, exposure, questions he might not want to answer. But they also meant information.
"I'd be honored," he said carefully.
"Excellent. Thomas will show you to your rooms. We convene in an hour."
The guest rooms were modest but comfortable. Real beds with actual mattresses, windows overlooking the city, a copper tub that servants filled with steaming water. Mike hadn't realized how much he'd missed basic civilized comforts until faced with them again. Fresh clothes were laid out for him on the bed.
He bathed quickly, watching dirt and blood swirl away. His health had reached 2,500. The scars from yesterday's battle had faded to thin white lines that would disappear completely within hours.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. "Sir? The armorer's here."
Allen proved to be a compact man with scarred hands and sharp eyes. Mike was surprised at him, interrupting his bath, but he guessed customs might be different here.
The armorer handed him a towel and invited him to be measured. Mike got out of the bath.
He took one look at Mike's build and whistled. "Big one, aren't you? Let's see what we can do."
The fitting process was quick and professional. Allen took all the necessary measurements and scratched them on a piece of leather he was holding.
"I will make it my priority to craft you something that will serve you well," Allen said.
Mike thanked him.
Clean, dressed, and soon to be properly equipped, Mike made his way to the council chamber. Thomas guided him through corridors hung with tapestries depicting Millhaven's history. Battles against bandits. Trade negotiations. The flooding of the lower city decades ago.
The council chamber occupied a circular room high in the central tower. Windows provided views in all directions - forest to the south and west, farmland to the north and east. A massive oak table dominated the space, around which sat Millhaven's leadership.