Leaves and twigs crunched beneath the worn boots of a lone, hungry vagabond. His hair was long, dark, and messy, and his pale skin looked like it hadn't seen a full meal or sunlight in weeks. His eyes were also a deep red. He wore a plain, tattered t-shirt beneath a long, brown overcoat that hung to his knees, paired with trousers just a few scuffs away from falling apart entirely.
The woodland thinned, giving way to a sunlit clearing— and beyond it, a small village nestled like an ember in the wilderness, modest yet oddly inviting.
"Finally," he muttered, breath catching. "I needed a place to rest."
Abraham broke into a quick scuttle down the hill, only to trip and tumble into a clumsy roll.
Huh. Looked smaller from up there.
Abraham quickly scurried to his feet and began running towards the village.
Upon reaching the village, he bent down, panting heavily with his hands on his knees.
Jeez, I should work on my cardio…
But hey, at least I'm here in one piece.
Straightening up, Abraham brushed the dirt off his brown overcoat and began to walk cautiously into the village.
None of the villagers made eye contact with him. Their stares were brief and hollow — more like glances through him rather than at him. Abraham felt that the vibe here wasn't very welcoming.
Weird bunch. No wonder they get no visitors—it's like no one here knows how to smile.
After exploring for a while, Abraham spotted a nearby bar. The bar, on the outside at least, appeared to be quite run down and broken: the sign above the door dangled by a single nail, swaying like it had long since given up. The windows were streaked with grime, and what used to be double doors now stood as one crooked panel, hanging off its hinges like it was tired of the job.
It was not like it mattered to Abraham; he was just there for a quick snack before leaving. With a shrug, Abraham pushed it open and stepped through, shocked that the door didn't completely topple over. Inside, a few patrons sat at scattered tables, all minding their own business—and by the look of it, they preferred it that way.
He made his way to the front and slid onto a wooden stool.
"I'm starving," he said, waving a hand lazily to catch the barista's eye. "Gimme whatever's best here. Oh— a drink too. Don't care what kind."
The bartender gave him a small nod, eventually sliding over some kind of porridge and a half-pint of beer. Abraham, suppressing a gag, stared at it like it had personally offended him.
Aw, c'mon… I'd rather eat the bugs I had for breakfast.
The bartender lingered nearby, quietly scrubbing the inside of a glass with a rag.
Abraham frowned. "Uh… why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" the bartender replied.
"Like—uhh... never mind. Anyway, what's up with this place?"
The bartender stopped scrubbing for a moment. He set the glass down with a sigh. "Nothing much. This village was once under the protection of one of the citadels—until they abandoned us. Left us to rot."
Abraham perked up. "What? What citadel? And why?"
The man leaned on the counter. "Citadel Calor. They cut off our supply routes three winters ago... maybe four. Who knows anymore? Said our productivity didn't meet expectations."
Abraham blinked. "I'm sorry, productivity?"
"We had a drought. Farms dried up. Wood exports slowed. I guess we weren't filling their carts fast enough. One day, they just stopped coming. No protection, no food, no trade—just silence."
Abraham let out a whistle. "Damn. So what, they just left you guys here to die?"
The bartender's jaw tightened slightly. He glanced at the patrons, who, despite pretending not to listen, had all gone still.
"We manage," he said. "Barely."
"Right. Sure." Abraham jabbed his spoon into the porridge, half-expecting it to bite back. "And what, no one tried to, you know, LEAVE?"
"Some tried," the bartender said, voice lowering. "Didn't get far."
A long pause followed.
Abraham leaned back. "Didn't get far?"
The bartender's voice dropped. "This village is attacked every night by monsters. We're all dormant, and so it's not like we can hold them off well."
Abraham raised a brow. He wouldn't have taken the man so seriously if not for the total stoicism his profile portrayed. "What kind of monsters?"
The bartender didn't respond right away. He picked up the glass and resumed cleaning it, wiping it in slow, drawn-out circles.
"You ask too many questions for a man who only came here for food," he muttered.
Abraham gave a dry chuff. "Yeah? Not like this porridge is distracting me."
A few moments later, against all odds, Abraham finished eating whatever that bowl contained. He stood up and dropped a few old and dirty coins onto the table.
"Wait." The bartender stopped him.
Abraham paused and turned around slowly, preparing for the worst.
"Take this," the man said, reaching under the bar and handing over a metal tube casing.
Opening it, Abraham's eyes widened as he realised what it was. "A map?"
"Not just any map," the bartender replied. "It's a treasure map."
Abraham muttered an 'uh-huh', glancing back up at the bartender skeptically,
This is not sketchy at all.
"Uh... thanks?" he said with reserve. "I suppose this is the part where you tell me an ancient dragon's guarding it?"
The bartender looked up at him, eyes tired but oddly calm, like he didn't just hand a total stranger a map of fairytale origins.
Yup. Knew it. This place is weird.
"Cool, cool. Thanks again."
Abraham stepped out into the fading light and unrolled the map briefly, tilting his head at it slightly as he recognized the area. "Huh. This isn't even that far."
He slid it back into the tube and tucked it under his coat.
Can't hurt to take a small look, right?
And with that, Abraham set off.