Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 13: 13. Guardian Of Stonebrook

Read chapter 13 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

13. Guardian Of Stonebrook I am Maribel Holloway, age 15, and I am a worthless street rat trying to survive as an adventurer. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/3436dbb7-6e63-4972-b7d2-a17b68e373de Currently, I am walking down the worn stone road leading north from Cairndorn, heading toward the village of Stonebrook. On horseback, the journey would take only a few hours. By carriage, perhaps half a day’s light. But on foot, I’ll be lucky to reach the relative safety of the village by nightfall. For that reason, I walk with purpose, taking steady, determined strides. I need to make it there before dark; the thought of being caught on the open plains at night fills me with dread. I’ve learned to avoid risks and stick to safer missions because, as poor as I am, a single injury could mean I can’t work. And if I can’t work, I’ll starve. Still, I’ve grown adept at stealing from nobles, which is how I gathered all the food packed into the old burlap sack strapped to my back with a length of rope. The sack and rope themselves were sourced from the storage room of a wealthy noble, crafted into this makeshift backpack by my hands. I've been able to steal most of what I need to get by, but that strategy has its limits. I have to be cautious, only taking what won't be missed and won't raise suspicion. A loaf of bread or an empty sack disappearing from a restaurant's pantry might go unnoticed. But if I stole something valuable, such as gold, it would draw immediate attention and spark an investigation. If I were caught with stolen goods, I'd lose my ability to work as an adventurer, and worse, I could end up rotting in jail or sold into slavery. Because of this, stealing gold is too risky. To make money, I depend on completing guild quests, which is why I'm making my way to Stonebrook now. I've taken a quest to gather Vitabloom, Aspen Root, and Hassle Wood Moss, herbs essential for producing magical potions. These ingredients are usually farmed in the gardens of the Arcadian Academy of Magic and grow wild across the Dragon's Cradle. But over the last year, demand for these herbs has surged, and they've become scarce in the valley. Gathering these herbs is one of the safest ways for me to earn coin, but their growing rarity has become a serious problem. It has gotten so bad that I have to venture this far from the capital just to find them. As I walk, the rhythmic sound of hooves and the rattling of wagon wheels echo behind me. I glance over my shoulder to ensure I'm clear of its path, but when I see who is driving the wagon, my face lights up with unexpected joy. Sitting at the reins is none other than Mr. Shadow, the masked and hooded weirdo who saved me the other day with a potion. I hurriedly wave toward him. I am excited to see Shadow for a few reasons. Mostly, I am hoping he will give me a ride, and partly because I want to thank him again for helping me and ask how his quests have gone. I wonder if he's had as much trouble as me. As Shadow's wagon draws nearer, he waves at me and slows his horses, bringing the wagon to a stop parallel to where I am standing. From the driver’s seat, he looks down at me, and I feel a jolt of surprise. Up close, Shadow looks different. He is taller, significantly so, and his limbs have an unnatural bulk to them that wasn't there before. "Hey! It's you... Miss Maribel, right?" Shadow says in a friendly tone, his voice deep and resonant. "Yeah, that's me, but... are you really Shadow?" I ask, squinting up at him in confusion. "What happened to you? Did you somehow get that much taller in just an arc?" "Oh wow... it really has been a whole arc, hasn't it?" Shadow says, rubbing the back of his head. His casual response only deepens my curiosity, but it's clear he's dodging the question. "Anyway," he says, smoothly changing the subject, "what are you doing all the way out here? Need a ride?" He extends a gloved hand toward me, his tone genuinely kind. I glance at his hand, hesitating.