They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World-Chapter 131: Complications

We left the inn early the next morning, before the sun had fully risen over the horizon and painted the sky in shades of pink and gold.

The streets were still mostly empty, just a few early risers opening their shops or heading to work. Our breath misted in the cool morning air as we made our way through the quiet town.

Now we stood at the edge of the riverside settlement, watching wagons and carriages being loaded for various routes.

Drivers shouted instructions to their helpers, horses stamped and snorted, cargo was secured with practiced efficiency.

I approached a driver heading west, a weathered man with sun-darkened skin and callused hands that spoke of years on the road. He was supervising the loading of what looked like textiles and pottery.

"Need passage west," I said. "Three passengers. How far are you going?"

He squinted at us, evaluating.

"Millhaven crossroads. Two days’ travel, maybe less if the weather holds and we don’t hit mud." He named a price that was fair but not cheap. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"Leaving within the hour."

I negotiated briefly, getting him down by a few coppers, then paid half upfront with the rest promised on arrival.

We climbed aboard, Agnes settling onto the narrow bench beside me while Scarlet took a spot in the back among the cargo, her hood still pulled up.

The early morning chill made the covering less conspicuous, plenty of people bundled against the cold.

The glamour had worn off sometime during the night.

Scarlet’s natural features were back, the fox ears, the tail she kept carefully hidden beneath her cloak. But with her hood up and positioned in the back, nobody could see clearly enough to notice.

We’d have to be careful.

The wagon rolled out of town as the sun finally broke free of the horizon, casting long shadows across the road ahead.

The countryside that unfolded before us grew increasingly rural as we traveled.

The fields and organized farms near the riverside town gradually gave way to wilder forests, the road becoming less maintained, more rutted and uneven.

Small farming villages dotted the landscape at irregular intervals, clusters of houses around a central well or mill, usually no more than a dozen families.

We stopped once around midday to change horses at a coaching station, letting passengers stretch their legs and use the facilities. I bought some dried meat and hard cheese for later, adding to our dwindling supplies.

Then again as evening approached, the driver pulling into a small roadside inn that barely deserved the name. It was little more than a large house with a few extra rooms, but it offered beds and hot food, which was enough.

I paid for two rooms again, watching my coin purse grow lighter.

We’d need to find work soon, or figure out another way to get money. But first, Agnes’s mother.

The next morning we continued west, the sun rising behind us and warming our backs. The western territories drew closer with each mile, the landscape growing more rugged, more wild. The forests were denser here, the spaces between settlements longer.

By midday of the second day, we reached a town that sat at the crossroads of several trade routes, roads branching off in multiple directions, marked with weather-worn signposts.

Millhaven.

It was larger than the riverside settlement but still provincial compared to Greyford. Maybe a few thousand people, with actual stone buildings in the center and a proper market square. The kind of place that served as a regional hub for the smaller villages and farms scattered throughout the territory.

The driver let us off near the town square, his wagon creaking to a halt beside a fountain that marked the center.

"This is as far west as I go," he said gruffly, accepting the remainder of his payment and counting it carefully. "You’ll need to find another wagon from here if you’re heading into border territory. Though good luck with that."

The last part was muttered, barely audible.

I thanked him anyway and helped Agnes down from the wagon.

My stomach was growling insistently, reminding me we hadn’t eaten since the stale bread and lukewarm tea at dawn.

"Let’s get food first," I said, scanning the square for likely establishments. "Then find transport to Millbrook."

We found a small tavern on the eastern side of the square, identified by a faded sign showing a crossed knife and fork. The Waystation, according to the painted letters.

Inside was moderately busy with the midday crowd, travelers, local workers on their meal break, a few merchants discussing deals over ale.

I ordered for all three of us at the bar, simple fare, meat pies still warm from the oven and roasted vegetables that actually looked fresh, and we found a table near the back.

The food was decent, filling, exactly what we needed.

We ate quickly, efficiently, not wasting time on conversation.

I was finishing the last of my pie, washing it down with watered ale, when raised voices outside caught my attention.

Through the tavern’s grimy window, I could see a crowd gathering near where wagons and carriages were stationed in the square. Drivers were arguing with passengers, gesturing emphatically. Merchants stood in clusters, shaking their heads with worried expressions. The commotion was growing.

I stood, leaving a copper coin on the table for the serving girl, and moved toward the door.

Agnes and Scarlet followed without question, falling into step behind me.

Outside, the commotion was much clearer, the voices carrying across the square.

A large board had been posted near the wagon station, freshly mounted, the wood still pale and unworn. People were clustered around it three and four deep, reading and talking in worried tones that ranged from concerned to outright fearful.

I pushed through the crowd, using my shoulders and a few muttered "excuse me"s to work my way forward.

When I finally got close enough to read, my stomach sank.

"NOTICE: All western routes beyond Millhaven suspended until further notice. Reports of increased monster activity near Thornwood Forest and surrounding territories. Multiple attacks on merchant caravans reported. Merchants and travelers advised to avoid border territories until threat is neutralized. By order of the Regional Magistrate."

Beneath the official notice, someone had scrawled in chalk: "Three wagons lost this week. Don’t be stupid."

I stared at the words, processing.

Around me, the crowd’s conversations became clearer as I focused on what they were saying.

"Heard it was goblins, whole tribe of them—"

"No, no, my cousin said it was dire wolves, big as horses—"

"You’re both wrong. Maggie from the south farm saw it herself. Some kind of beast-man, walking upright. Ripped apart the Henderson’s wagon like paper—"

"I heard there’s a bounty now. Guild’s putting up gold for anyone who clears the forest—"

"Gold won’t matter if you’re dead. Did you hear what they found of the Miller caravan? Just blood and scraps of—"

A merchant near me spat on the ground. "Doesn’t matter what it is. Roads are closed. I’ve got goods rotting in my warehouse and no way to get them west. Losing money every day."

I turned to look at the wagon drivers stationed nearby. Several were shaking their heads firmly when approached by would-be passengers, refusing offers even when desperate travelers produced extra coin, doubling and tripling the normal rates.

"Not for any amount," one driver said loudly, backing away from a well-dressed man trying to negotiate. "I’ve got a family. I’m not dying in those woods for your gold."

Another driver, younger but equally adamant: "Find someone else. I’m not going past Millhaven. End of discussion."

The desperation in some passengers’ faces was clear. People who needed to get west, who had business or family waiting. But the fear in the drivers’ faces was stronger.

I felt Agnes move closer to my side, her hand lightly touching my arm. Her voice was quiet and worried when she spoke.

"Young Master... Millbrook is past Millhaven."

She swallowed hard, her eyes moving from the notice board to my face.

"It’s in the border territories. Right on the edge of Thornwood Forest."

I looked at her, seeing the worry warring with hope in her expression.

She’d been so happy last night. So relieved. Finally believing her mother would get help.

And now this.

"How far past Millhaven?" I asked quietly.

"Half a day’s travel. Maybe less on foot if we moved quickly." Her voice was small. "But the road goes directly through the forest edge. There’s no other route."

Scarlet had moved up beside us, her hood still up but I could see her amber eyes narrowed beneath it.

"So what do we do?" she asked, her voice low. "Turn back? Give up?"

I looked at the notice board again. At the crowd dispersing, disappointed and worried. At the drivers refusing passage. At Agnes’s face, hope slowly dying in her eyes.

And I don’t have enough coins to hire guards or mercenaries to escort us. Not enough for much of anything.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"We need to think," I said finally. "Let’s find somewhere quieter to talk."