Rane: The Caravan

Rane had no clue where he was going. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. He knew, for the most part, what lie at the end of most of the roads he travelled on. There had simply been no rationale as to why he'd chosen this road, this day. After leaving the last village he hadn't actually heard about any other towns or particular Lords who were looking for help, be it worker or soldier, and so he'd just set out with no particular place in mind. It had only been a couple days, and Rane was in especially good spirits this morning.

Across his back was slung a simple canvas sack containing some spare clothes, a smaller bag of breads and some pieces of jerky-like dried meat, and a waterskin. Rane was currently using his staff as a walking stick. And that was, more or less, Rane's entire life, travelling with him. Sure, he had a few coins left in his pocket, but those were easy enough to come by. Everything else had some sort of personal value to the man - the staff, for example, had been won from a previous battle. His opponent was using it as part of a filigried spear that rane had acquired upon winning. He'd stripped down the metal bits and sold them for pocket change, but the shaft itself was one of the best weapons he'd ever come across. It was perfectly balanced, and whatever tree it had come from was hard as nails. The wood was heavy, and had broken more than a couple blades without receiving more than a couple nicks and scratches in it. It had taken him a solid week to the the lacquer off the damned thing.

Up ahead Rane could see a small caravan packing up and readying to make off for the day. The three wagons had parked in a small break in the treeline on the side of the road, creating a sheltered pocket between the carts and the woods. A couple women were taking down some clotheslines that had been strung up and were folding the laundry before carrying it all into the first wagon. Another, younger girl was finishing off the campfire, making sure that the coals were properly snuffed out and wouldn't be setting nearby plant-life on fire. Rane approached one of the men who was re-strapping some goods to the roof of the middle cart.

"Would you like some help with that?" A pleasant smile, Rane had learned, could go as far as most threats would. And while you were more likely to be taken as a weakling or a fool for it, that had generally worked out in Rane's favor in the past. The man, perhaps into his forties but with a worn sort of face, grunted, motioning Rane to the other side. Rane just nodded, set his bag and stick down, and grabbed ahold of a loose rope dangling opposite the one the man held. A couple good tugs and some neat knot jobs later the packs atop the cart were secure.

The man approached Rane, and spoke in what Rane thought to be an odd combination of sigh and growl. "Okay, what do you want?" He looked Rane up and down once. "Food?" He jerked his head to one of the women who was poking her head out of the first wagon. "Get this boy some grub so he can le-"

"Whoa, hold on there a second!" Rane raised his hands in a defensive sort of nature. "I just-"

"What? Money? We're almost done here. And the women are off limits." The man practically snarled this last part of the interruption. Rane's eyes went momentarily wide.

"What? No!" Rane laughed in spite of the situation. The fact that this province was practically a war zone had eventually had an effect on the residents. An air of pessimism surrounded almost every normal person he'd met on the road. People were becoming defensive by nature so as to avoid being tricked into losing what they had managed to save up. "I was just wondering if you'd like some company on the road." Rane slowly made his way around the man, back to his belongings. "I've got my own food," he stated, raising his worn-out bag, "and I can catch my own if I need to." Fishing was always pretty relaxing, and a lot of roads these days came close to a good water source every once in awhile. He'd also taken a deer down with his bare hands, once, but that hadn't been nearly as pleasant an experience.

The man, who Rane now presumed was head of the caravan, arched a brow, but otherwise did little to relax himself. Rane sighed inwardly.

"Tell you what. You let me tag along, rest my feet every once in awhile, and I'll make sure that all your goods make it where they're going." Rane knocked his staff against his forearm a couple of times, producing an odd set of muted clanging noises. If nothing else, that caught the man's attention. "I won't take your food, water, or your women," though he flashed a smile as he said so at the younger woman who was peaking around one of the other wagons. "And if nothing happens, I'll even pay you for your troubles." Rane's hand slipped into a pocket and reappeared showing off a few of the coins he had left. "How does that sound?" Rane re-deposited the coins and leaned a bit on his staff as the man considered things.

A few minutes passed, during which Rane could tell he was being appraised. The women from the first wagon, the young girl, even the other men who had been rigging up the horses were now looking his way. Rane knew he didn't look like much, but he wasn't asking for much either. He'd presented fair terms, and as it stood, the man didn't really have much to lose besides another pair of hands that he hadn't had to begin with.

"...Okay." The man said, after a few more minutes had passed, with a look that conveyed "but" in pretty much any way he could mean it. Rane gave a smile and a small bow before slinging his pack back over his shoulder. The men just shrugged and went back to finishing their work, while the women huddled inside the first wagon, from which Rane could hear a lot of whispering. "Come." The man motioned Rane towards the front of the caravan. Presumably Rane was going to stay up with the horses to keep himself out of trouble, but as he walked by the young girl blushed and smiled at him before dashing off to finish her own chores.

Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad, Rane mused, as he strode on ahead.