Walking down the beaten road towards a destination that was a mystery, even to him, Edwin couldn’t help but feel trepidation. From what he understood, he was given a charge to wander with no real destination and seemingly no purpose. He thought back to his last conversation in Acolynia with the Pontifex Samael.

  ………..

  “What happens now”, the shorter man asked the Pontifex.“Am I going to be your prisoner?”

  The Pontifex tiredly shook his head and turned his golden eyes on Thatch’s yellow. “Such a thing is forbidden. You are a walking contradiction. The gods forbade me from passing any form of judgment on you, but at the same time, I cannot leave you with no heroic calling.”

  “Why not send me with one of the others”, Thatch asked, “From what I’ve been hearing, this world needs all the help it can get and I doubt any country here would say ‘No’ to having an extra hero.”

  “But to what end would I be sending you”, the Pontifex asked rhetorically, “To send you to the battlefield would be certain death. While it’s not unusual for a hero to fall in the line of duty, to knowingly send you there, it would damn so many.”

  Edwin narrowed his eyes, “I’ve got no stake in this war, but I was brought here anyway. And I’m not afraid.”

  The Pontifex chuckled, “Courage is admirable, but the ability to match is missing.Which is why I will give you the only missive that I can. I give you the charge of the Nomad. As a Nomad, you are tasked with wandering this world. Travel its height and its breadth. And when the time comes that the gods smile upon you and you find your true purpose, your charge will end.”

  …………………

  It was this enigmatic task that found Thatch traveling north towards the Rathborian Empire. If he was meant to wander the world until he found a purpose, making his way into one of the largest countries on the continent, towards the action seemed like the most logical course of action.

  Not having any idea where he was going aside from towards the attacking horde, Edwin, ever the pragmatic man, debated his options. Mahad Alahadra and Schaffen might be good, but they were away from the fighting and he didn’t think that was the correct way to go. Glancing at the rolling hills of dewy grass reminded Edwin of the men from Torthuil. Fighting with the people of Torthuil was a fool’s errand. The people of the grasslands were a heavily suspicious bunch who distrusted anyone who so much as thought of crossing their lands.

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  Of course, heading in the direction of Rathbourne Empire brought images of the fearsome dragons ridden by their overly polished generals. The Empire would be the choice for most people since they had a sizeable portion of nonmagical soldiers in their army. But between only being able to kill demons in large numbers, and seen as less valuable because of it, the firing lines of these men were used as a way to conserve the more valuable magic soldiers. Whether by the cloud of musket balls and smoke or as a physical barrier between enemy and ally, it wasn’t an enviable position.

  As he continued even further north, in the chill of the morning, Edwin noticed a few patches of white, spiraling frost that was stubbornly clinging to the grass. The warriors of the frigid land of Ode were such unyielding foes who held such a deep seated passion for conflict and destruction of evil despite having half the numbers of the Empire, their land remained unconquered, neither by any foreigners, nor the very men who laid claim to it as home. The Odeans may be considered barbaric, but in Edwin’s view, they merely possessed a realistic view of the cost of demonic warfare. While the Rathbournians may value anything that improved their country, the Odeans had a more… simple view of that mentality. Out of all the countries, Ode had the best chance of giving a literal fighting chance to a wandering, magicless man, and considering they weren’t quite as hierarchical, they were the lesser of two evils.

  Edwin continued with his mind made up, towards the frostbitten island of Ode. As he walked along, a familiar sensation overtook him. Everything became still, unnaturally so. All the colors and light faded away and Thatch found himself surrounded by an endless dark void. He still wasn’t sure if he should entirely trust the Voice, but it seemed to want him alive.

  Continue forward and you will come to a village. There you will meet the veiled man named Pradip. He shall know you and you shall know him. The truth will be shown.

  In the blink of an eye, the void was gone and Thatch was left in the real world, panting heavily. The interminable road continued until the sun was beginning to turn red along the horizon when he came to a town. It looked like a quaint farming village one would read about in a children’s book. There was absolutely no sign of modernity, but the buildings were well maintained and the gardens all appeared to be well kept. But as Edwin drew closer, the more the approaching village sent little pinpricks through his fingertips. While the winter had come and gone, everything was still. There were no doors letting the spring air in for cleaning, no neighbors gossiping about the most meaningless things.

  Most suspicious was how despite the increasing coolness of the night air, the doors were all shut, but there was no light coming from any of the houses. As he walked along the dirt road, the few people there definitely were, he could feel them looking at him. But every time he turned his head, all he saw was the head of children quickly ducking away and a waving curtain. Clearly, visitors, even ones just passing through weren’t common.