Too often, unbearably optimistic assholes say that the journey is more important than the destination. But if that were the case, then why even travel to the destination in the first place? Are the weeds and mud along endless roads and paths greater than the Great Tower of Bulbor or the Bizarre of Roic? Are blisters on the bottom of your feet more fun than a nice warm Inn and a keg of some fine ale? There is no denying that travel is a necessary evil, but it is the destination that makes the journey worth its time. A journey without a destination is aimless wandering. Aimless wandering is what headless chickens do.

The journey back to Mudvale was uneventful, aside from the occasional Terror Cat. I noted that the black, but actually blue, beetles were not around, presumably witnessing what they wanted to witness. I still had not questioned their motives. They were bugs, no more, no less.

Alric was surprisingly quick to agree with me that Azog would be a good escort to the capital, Nosterdam. So, after a week of deep cleaning the Catacombs, the traveling date had been set and I bid Alric farewell. My anger had lessened, but I was still angry at the Necromancer and his disregard for his minions and me.

Like all great expeditions, I found myself pounding back ale within a tavern, more specifically, the tavern named The Coward’s Brew. Naysayers would argue that a journey to the capital of the nation you lived in was not a great expedition, or even a mediocre journey. I would say that these people need to get off of their mana powered carriages, and touch grass like normal folk. The journey to the capital was a far trek on horseback, let alone on foot.

My mind was hollow, possibly even a little bit dead inside. It was last week's events that caused me to drink, and it was the drink that caused my mind to be numb. My not so functioning brain wondered if this was how the undead felt when their minds’ rotted and all that was left were bones. It was a simpler existence, I supposed.

“Bring me another!” I shouted at Azog. Azog winced as he took some of my spit to the face. I shouldn’t have been shouting with Azog so close to me.

“You’ve had enough. I should’ve stopped refilling your tankard at two ales, yeh drunkard. If I give you anymore, you’ll be spewing yer guts all over my nicely cleaned bar top. At least, wait until we’re out the door before you make a mess of things.”

I scowled. I thought I knew my limits. I didn’t.

I will note that it was irresponsible for Azog to be serving me booze before a long arduous journey, but it couldn’t be stated enough that the Coward’s Brew was the least popular Inn in all of Mudvale. Any sale needed to be treated with the utmost respect and care, or else Azog risked losing the few customers he had.

“Get your coat on. It’ll be best if we start moving. I don’t want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere, having to sleep in the cold. There’s a warm Inn with a nice bubble bath with my name on it. I've got to treat myself now that I got a bit of coin.”

“Alright. Alright.” I put on my cheaply sewn coat and followed Azog out of the door.

I hated the sunlight. Being outside was overwhelming. I realized it was my mana sight that caused my discomfort: the way the different colored mana merged with my actual vision made me feel uneasy. My limited sight inside the cave dampened the strange feeling. The drinking helped a bit, but it was never good to be impaired. Withering away and dying was an option I considered, but I owed George too much. I worried that the capital would be too stimulating.

“You know you’ve been acting kind of funny since going down that cave. I bet you saw some stuff. I’ve seen some stuff too, believe it or not. Drinking doesn’t help as much as you think. It’s like putting a bandage over an infection when you really need to amputate yer own arm off.”

“I don’t want to cut off my own arm. Maybe I’ll poke my eyes out, though.”

Azog gave me a questionable look.

“It was one of them metaphors. Only crazy people physically cut their own limbs off. That’s why you have the healer do it.”

“I thought the healer used healing magic. What you describe sounds more like a butcher.”

“Healing magic is what the good healers do. The mediocre ones pretend they’re the butcher.”

“Let’s go.”

“Wait, have you said your farewells to yer mother yet?”

“No, but she’ll be fine. She doesn’t need to see me like this. It’s for the best if she assumes I found some apprenticeship in one of the neighboring towns.”

“Last time you were gone for about three weeks. That’s plenty of time for a mother to worry.”

“She’d worry more if she saw me like this.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that. You’re a shell of your former self. Hopefully, this trip will bring some life into you.”

“Hopefully.”

Azog punched my shoulder, before slinging his hefty bag over his shoulder. It was larger than what a normal human could comfortably carry, but Azog was not a normal human. He had strength that matched his mighty size. I carried my more humble bag, as I trudged down the path.

The capital wasn’t too far away from Mudvale, because the Kingdom was relatively small as far as kingdoms went. The well paved path had some travelers but no one was traveling the small path to Mudvale. The path started small, but as we continued walking, the path to Mudvale merged with paths from other villages.

Azog effortlessly held on to his sack of belongings as if they were weightless, as he practically skipped down the road. I dragged myself down the road sort of like a human slug, desperately in need of a break.. It was no surprise I felt awful, and had emptied the contents of my stomach on two separate occasions. Azog slowed down a bit after glancing back at me. It was clearly a coincidence and had nothing to do with me. That was what I told myself.

As roads converged, so did the people on them. It was inevitable as we got closer to the capital that we’d see other travelers. What I didn’t expect to see was a poor woman held at knife point, with three bandits surrounding her.

“Help me! These dastardly highwaymen have stolen from me!” shouted the poor damsel in distress. Tears streamed from her face, as she was held in a choke hold. Her red dress fit her body well, but seemed out of place on a long winding road. Besides, what she said was not the sort of thing someone with a knife to their throat usually said. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could’ve sworn I saw her wink. I narrowed my eyes, stopped and skeptically watched from a distance. I tugged on Azog’s shirt. He turned to face me.

“We’ve gotta go help that poor woman!” said Azog.

"It’s a scam or, worse, one of those traveling acting groups. Don’t you find it odd that a big looking fellow's small sword is rusted? What sort of bandit tries stabbing you with something that won’t break the skin?”

“They’re obviously bandits, look at their scars. They’ve probably fallen on hard times.”

“Oh, you two travelers I see in the distance! Come help me, before this monster of a man slits my throat and takes my very rare and sought after 10,000 gold pearl necklace. It would be a mighty reward for anyone who saves me, for it is not wealth that I value.” interrupted the damsel in distress.

Azog looked at the lady one more time, and, then, swiveled to face me.

“You’re right. No one with a rare 10,000 gold necklace is going to give it away that easily. What should we do? I don’t want to be forced into watching a whole traveling performance, especially if it interferes with the bubble bath I’m looking forward to taking.”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got this. With these types of people, all you gotta do is show that you’re not interested,” I reassured the barkeeper.

“No! We’re not looking for any gold necklaces. Sorry, but we’ll have to pass on the whole trying to save you thing. It’s unfortunate, I know. Death sort of blows, but our hands are, unfortunately, tied,” I yelled.

“A true gentleman would save a very attractive maiden! Sure, I’d understand if Helga was the one you were saving, but I’m no Helga. Do you not have any honor and dignity!” shouted back the damsel, angrily. Her face was red, but she was not fearful.

“I lost the last shred of dignity I had a couple weeks ago, I’m afraid. Also, I’m of the opinion that bandits got to eat. I think it’s called the circle of life or something like that.”

“That’s only for animals and spirit beasts,” Azog whispered in my ear, correcting me.

“Well, it looks like the jig is up. Sick ‘em boys!” the damsel shouted.

Azog unsheathed his great sword.

“Thank goodness. For a second, I feared you might’ve been right about them being Actors. Bandits are much easier to deal with.” stated Azog.