Prelude: To Domathra (Isekai/LitRPG/OP MC)

Daniel gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles white. The cart bounced painfully over the dirt road, though ‘road’ was a generous descriptor. He hardly noticed the pangs of pain as his backside was slammed against the wooden bench, his well-worn cushion little more than cloth between him and the wood at this point.

Rovik, the brevar, raced along the path, his hooves pounding the loose dirt. It was not fast; these were beasts of burden, not racehorses. 

The creature’s back legs were thickly muscled, its back half far larger than its front, resembling almost a cross between a cow and a rabbit. The hooves on its back legs dug into the dirt to propel it forward, while its front paws gripped the ground with sharp claws, ensuring proper footing. 

This was as fast as Daniel was comfortable pushing, both for Rovik’s health and the well-being of his cart. A merchant’s cart was his life and his home, after all.

Despite his careful attention, Daniel noticed the drool dripping from Rovik’s mouth and heard his labored panting. He would need a long rest and water soon, no matter the urgency of Daniel’s task.

Relief threatened to overwhelm him as Daniel approached his destination. The Fulgathors’ farm was a robust two-story home with a sturdy timber frame and a stone foundation. It was nothing fancy, but its quality was unquestionable. It spoke of careful attention and craft.

He knew old Jethro had placed every single stone himself, nailed every single plank together personally. He and Edna built their home to last, not to impress.

The relief faded from Daniel, seeing the home still standing, the property undisturbed, and was quickly replaced by anxiety. Suddenly, he was scanning the fields, watching the shadows along the dirt path, wondering if they hid violence in their folds, just waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Daniel pulled his cart to the side of the home, parking Rovik in front of an already-prepared trough of water under the shade of a lean-to. Rather forward and presumptive, he knew, but Daniel had known the Fulgathors long enough to know that they would scold him for even asking permission to water his brevar.

He did not bother unhooking the cart from Rovik, merely settling him and immediately making for the front door. The sun was high in the sky, which meant the Fulgathors would likely be inside, sheltering against the heat of the day rather than working the fields or tending the animals.

A couple of rapid knocks on the door later, and old Jethro opened it with a smile.

“Dan! Good to see you, boy! We weren’t expecting—” he started boisterously.

Daniel suddenly gripped the old man in a tight embrace, interrupting his greeting. Jethro stood stunned for a few blinks, but his wits quickly intuited that something abnormal. He patted Daniel on the shoulders, noting Rovik to the side, drinking, Daniel’s cart not even unhitched, and nothing unloaded.

“Come in, boy. Come in,” Jethro ushered, his eyes scanning the distance, finding nothing out of the ordinary. “Edna! Dan’s here!”

Loud footsteps overhead broadcast Edna’s descent from the upper floor, where the bedrooms were located. She saw Daniel in the entryway and lit up with a bright smile.

“Danny! What a pleasant surprise! We weren’t expecting you so soon. What brings you all the way out here?” she asked, approaching him with arms outstretched.

“Jethro, Edna, I’m so glad you two are safe,” Daniel muttered, returning Edna’s hug.

“Of course we are, dear. Why wouldn’t we be?” she asked, pulling back and looking Daniel up and down. “My, you look like you’ve ridden for days without rest! Come, sit down. Let me get you something to drink. It’s too hot for tea right now, but I have some freshly-squeezed juice down in the cellar.”

Before Daniel could protest, she was off, somehow through the door to the kitchen in the blink of an eye.

Jethro led Daniel through the doorway on his right and into the sitting room, where he sat on a comfy couch, whose cushions were anodyne on his sore backside. Jethro sat on a rocking chair opposite him, and the two waited in companionable silence for Edna to return.

She set a pitcher down on the small wooden table between the couch and chairs, poured a cup for herself and the other two, and sat down in a chair across from Daniel.

“Now, what exactly is going on, Dan? You’re disheveled, like you’ve not stopped to rest in days. You brought Rovik straight to the trough without even unhitching your wagon and came straight to the door without unloading anything. What’s wrong? Has something happened?” Jethro asked, studying Daniel over the rim of his cup.

“I figured you wouldn’t have heard. All the farms are so distant from each other,” Daniel sighed, drinking, relieved to have something to wet his throat other than warm water.

“Heard what, dear?” Edna prompted.

Daniel set his cup down on the table, clasping his hands together as he leaned over his knees, his mood dour.

“I have seven farms on my route, as you probably know. It takes me the better part of three months to travel to all of them, which is why you only see me three or four times a year. It’s a lot of ground to cover, even before considering all the trading, loading and unloading, and traveling back and forth to Gloamview I do.”

“Well, I just finished my run to Gloamview a few weeks ago, so I was starting back on my route like usual. When I got to my first stop, the Halfords’ farm, I found nothing but char and ruin. Their home was burned to the ground, their animals either killed or run off. 

“I don’t know what happened, but some of the baron’s guards were present and mentioned an attack. They wouldn’t tell me more, and I’m not sure they knew more themselves, honestly. They did tell me that the Halford’s survived, so that’s a relief, but they’ve lost everything.

“My second stop…it wasn’t so clean,” Daniel explained, his voice going hoarse.

He stopped to sip again, sating his dry throat before continuing.

“This one, I stumbled upon as it burned. There were two people, two men, standing before the Sturnkits’ house, watching it burn. I…I heard shouts and screams from inside. I think they trapped the family inside,” he said, clenching his hands tightly.

“Gods above…” Edna gasped, covering her hands with her mouth.

“You got out, though? You made it away safely?” Jethro asked, leaning forward, his face a thundercloud.

“I…yes. I ran. The men, they saw me, so I turned Rovik around and fled as fast as I could make him gallop. I couldn’t…there was nothing I could do, so I just…I turned tail and ran!” Daniel exclaimed, his voice cracking.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, at least as tightly as he clenched his fists. Suddenly, Edna’s hand was patting his back, a soft, “There there,” coming from his side.

“You did the right thing, son. People like to talk about bravery, but running in there wouldn’t have been brave. It’d have been plum stupid. You’d have just died with the Sturnkits, nothing more. Now, you’ve survived to get the word out. That’s the most you could’ve done, and you accomplished it,” Jethro affirmed.

A few moments of silence passed as Daniel calmed his shaking body, working to shove the memory of the screams to the back of his mind.

“I-I didn’t know what else to do but to come warn you as fast as I could. Yours is the closest farm to theirs. It’s a two-day ride with Rovik, but I don’t know how fast they could get here without a cart to drag them—” he started.

He was interrupted by a scream from outside.

The three froze, all looking out the window at the covered front porch. None moved for a moment, all listening intently.

Crash! Scrape! Thud!

Three succinct sounds from outside bled into the room, and all three occupants bolted to their feet, racing to the window to look.

“Agh!”

“Oof!”

Two sounds, one a sort of strangled gag, the other a grunt of pain, echoed out from the field, and then all was silent. The three exchanged glances, all shaking their heads. None had any idea what was going on, and none had seen anything clarifying.

A sudden knock on the door made all three jump nearly a foot into the air each. They stood still, as if their feet were nailed to the floorboards, as another knock sounded.

“If you would not mind opening up, I mean you no harm,” came a woman’s muffled voice.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Jethro called toward the door, not moving closer to it.

A silence stretched for just a second, and a woman suddenly appeared in front of the window.

“Ah!” Daniel screeched, falling on his backside, the bruises from his ride flaring angrily at the sudden hit.

“Greetings. My name is Nef. I am here to speak with the two of you and Daniel. I represent an…‘organization’ that is interested in acquiring low-level food,” the woman said.

Daniel scraped himself off the ground, straightening his shirt and pants instinctively at the thought of a potential client. Jethro glanced at him briefly before returning the woman’s gaze.

“What was all the commotion we heard? Those screams and grunts,” he asked warily.

“Hmm? Ah, that was these two,” the woman remarked casually, stepping aside.

Two men were dragged by an unseen force across the porch. One was draped over himself, hanging at the waist, and clearly unconscious. He looked as if someone carried him over their shoulder, yet he hung limply in mid-air. 

The other, while conscious, gazed listlessly at the sky, as if dazed. He appeared to be gripped by the back of his shirt like a mother cat grips her young, though, again, no visible force held him upright. His legs were sprawled apart, and his arms hung loosely at his sides.

“Oh, you know what? I probably should have led with this…” the woman said, appearing to dig within her elaborately decorated robe.

“I am an adventurer. I found these two skulking about your fields. I have reason to believe they intended to harm you or your property,” she said, producing a badge that nearly knocked Daniel off his feet again.

How often did high-level adventurers wander this far into the middle of nowhere? And further, Daniel needed no confirmation about the two dazed individuals’ purpose. 

They were the ones he had witnessed burning the Sturnkits’ farm.

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