Chapter 119 – Ferndale.

Rusty stood at the entrance of Ferndale, the large settlement sprawled before him, its outer wooden palisades weathered and reinforced with iron plating. Guard towers jutted from its perimeter, manned by watchmen who warily scanned the horizon. Beyond the walls, buildings of various sizes clustered together, constructed from stone and timber, their rooftops overlapped in dark, muted colors. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the air was mixed with the scent of burning wood and tanned leather.

‘So this is it…’

Rusty stood in the distance looking at this potential new lair. The weather was cloudy, and a cold wind carried various scents that he could not really perceive. Gleam on the other hand, who was perched on his shoulder seemed rather perturbed by it and turned her face away.

The settlement of Ferndale was larger than he expected, but not quite a city – it was a fortified town, one that had been hardened by years of conflict. Rusty could see signs of wear and struggle everywhere. The walls had been patched in places where they had likely been damaged by attacks. Many buildings had reinforced windows with heavy shutters, some scarred by embedded arrowheads.

Aburdon had informed him that to the east, orc encampments sprawled across the plains. The orcs were a constant threat, raiding and pillaging when the opportunity arose. To the north, the jagged peaks of the Stonefang Mountains loomed, home to barbarian tribes that descended from their frozen heights to pillage settlements and take what they pleased. Ferndale was caught between a rock and a hard place, its only saving grace being the dungeon at its center – the town’s primary source of income.

Despite the dangers, many still ventured here, undeterred by the risks. Most were low-level adventurers and soldiers seeking to make a name for themselves. The more established cities and settlements were difficult to rise through, overcrowded with those hoping for an easy path to success. For many, a perilous place like Ferndale was their only real chance at prosperity. They believed that, in time, the orcs and barbarians would be dealt with, and when Ferndale finally grew into a city, they would be there to reap the rewards.

“It’s time… Let’s go, Gleam and whatever you do, don’t attack them.”

“ (╹ -╹)? “

“Yes, even if they start it, those humanoid types can be hard to understand.”

After consulting his guides, they finally decided to approach the entrance gate. Gleam played the role of a tamed monster, a companion to Rusty’s new adventurer persona, Edmund. Alexander had reassured him that everything would go smoothly, but Rusty couldn’t shake his doubts. He still remembered his arrival at the last city – how uncertain and tense it had been. He could only hope this time would go as easily as they had planned.

A line had formed at the entrance, much like the one at the previous city where he had rescued Gleam. However, this one moved a bit faster, and security didn’t seem as strict. Despite the ever-present threat of orcs and barbarians, it appeared the guards weren’t too concerned about any of them sneaking in. Fortunately, Rusty had something that would allow him to bypass an identification check—money.

Before he could speak to the guards, however, a commotion on the other side of the gate caught his attention. A figure came flying through the air and landed face-first in the mud.

“No please, you can’t do this to me…”

“You know the rules, now get out and never come back!”

Rusty’s gaze followed the poor soul who had just been thrown from Ferndale’s gates. The man was covered in dirt, his ragged cloak barely clinging to his bony frame. He scrambled to his knees, his face contorted with desperation.

“Please, I have nowhere else to go! I can work! I’ll even clean the latrines, please!”

He pleaded, his voice hoarse and desperate. One of the guards, a burly man clad in chainmail with a thick, fur-lined cloak, spat onto the ground beside him.

“You had your chance. Those who can’t contribute get thrown out. No one cares if you rot out there. Now get lost before we decide to speed things up for you.”

The other guards laughed, one of them casually resting a hand on the hilt of his sword—a silent warning that the conversation was over. The man slumped forward, slowly pushing himself up, his eyes darting toward the treeline beyond the road. Rusty could see the fear in them. Being exiled from a place like Ferndale was a death sentence. Between the orc raiders and barbarian warbands, the wilds were merciless to lone travelers.

‘So, they exile their own?’

‘Indeed, in these sort of settlements food is sparse, they will throw away the weak and elderly if they can’t carry their own weight…’

Alexander murmured in his helmet, his tone showcasing disdain for this event. Aburdon, on the other hand, cackled, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

‘Hah, why should they spend their limited resources on someone who can’t even contribute? It’s a survival of the fittest, after all!’

‘I find it hard to believe that they don’t have anything to spare!’

Rusty listened to their exchange while watching the malnourished man stagger away, cold and covered in mud. None of the people trying to get in helped him or even looked his way as he turned to them for aid. This was the world they lived in – one where no one was willing to offer up their limited resources without at least the promise of a future reward.

He wasn’t much different from these people in that regard. He had managed to amass money throughout his journey, and perhaps he could spare some to help the man survive – but then what? The man didn’t seem capable of taking care of himself here. Plenty of others were still within the city, yet he was the one being cast out. Perhaps he had a gambling debt or was simply a poor worker.

Regardless, Rusty needed to focus on getting into the city, not on the fate of others. If he revealed that he had money to spare, he might make himself a target for the thieves’ guild or other thugs. Soon, the man sauntered off, and the waiting line inched forward until Rusty found himself face-to-face with the guards.

“Halt. What is that thing?”

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

One of the men immediately pointed at the silvery-white ant monster perched on Rusty’s shoulder. The guards looked weary, more interested in keeping the line moving than thoroughly inspecting entrants. The one who had spoken was young – his helmet slightly too large for his head, his grip on the spear unsteady. The older guard beside him, grizzled and scarred, was clearly the one in charge.

“That’s my com… I mean, my tamed monster. I’m an adventurer.”

Rusty replied smoothly, ensuring his voice carried the right amount of confidence. His Possession skill had leveled up, making it much easier to speak – even though, technically, the only body part he had was a head without lungs. The magic within it somehow made speech possible, though he wasn’t versed enough in its workings to understand how.

The older guard squinted at Gleam, who tilted her head in what could almost be mistaken for curiosity.