A lone figure was walking on a narrow, winding path surrounded by grasslands and farms as far as the eye could see. Marcus adjusted the bags on his shoulder with a sigh. His feet were sore after days of walking and he was a starting to get irritated at the gods for making such a vast world. Still, the view was great. After living in a small cabin in the woods near the southern mountains for five years, it felt good to see vast grasslands again. He had tried his best and succeeded to avoid the main roads, since large crowds made him feel uncomfortable. And currently the main roads sure were crowded. No wonder, since it didn't happen that often that a new king was crowned in Othea. As a wry smile crept across his face, Marcus thought back to all the coronation rituals he had witnessed as a child. Twelve... in a span of fifteen years. On two of such days, the the High Saeng had been killed just before he ascended the throne, and on one he was killed by poison in the holy water. It hadn't been a pleasant sight when the High Saeng-to-be fell to the ground, screaming as his skin and hair seemed to wither after the water had been poured over his head as a symbol of unity with the gods. Apparently, the gods didn't really like rulers. 

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Marcus noticed that there was a group of people was walking not too far ahead of him. His bow hung on his back, but he wouldn't be able to reach for the arrows. What on earth had he been thinking when he put them in the bag with provisions this morning? Unconsciously, Marcus reached for his lower abdomen. Beneath the piece of cloth strapped around his waist was the reassuring weight of a metal. Sang Min was within reach and with that comforting knowledge he continued to catch up with the group. 

As he came closer to them, he noticed that they were arguing about something. "No way that... Do it yaself!" He could see that the group consisted of five men, three woman and two children. His hand moved away from Sang Min and he sighed with relief. He wouldn't have to shed any blood today. "Ya know bloody well.. necessary..." When he was only 5 yards away, one of the younger men noticed him. "Hey and who is this then? Sneaking up to us like tha. Lance, look at tha. He's dressed real odd isn't he, that fellah." Lance... the name seemed oddly familiar. A man as large as a bear turned his head towards them. While he first seemed angry that the younger man had interrupted his conversation, his eyes went wide when he spotted Marcus. "Well blimey... I may be damned if that ain't our very own Recluse!" Before Marcus had a chance to react, Lance had already grabbed him and hugged him tight, squeezing all the air out of Marcus' lungs. "Lance....let..m...no..." But Lance paid him no heed and just continued to smother Marcus while laughing his roaring laugh. When he finally let him go, Marcus was sure he was a few bruises richer. "And wha on Azukhar brings ya so far from ya lil forest?", Lance asked with the thick accent of the southern mountain people. "Ya didn't come all tha way to just to say ya miss me?" Lance laughed loudly at his own joke and Marcus couldn't help but smile, invisible under the cloth covering his mouth. Lance was blacksmith in the village near the forest Marcus lived in. He was always kind to him and after taking a good second look, he noticed that Lance's wife Meriam and his children Bruce and Amy had come as well. "Actually, I'm on my way to the coronation." Marcus said with a soft voice. "Wha coincidence, so are we. Join us!" Lance wouldn't take no and so Marcus found himself continuing his voyage with ten new companions. And so his plan to avoid the main roads died a soundless death...