By the time we reached Valemire, dusk had already begun to stain the sky in hues of rust and violet. Our guide, Alfred—a seasoned Ashborn-ranked adventurer—led us directly to the village inn, as per the captain's quiet, unspoken command. It was close, just down the dirt path lined with mossy fences and flickering lanterns. Even before stepping inside, I could smell it: a place soaked in liquor, roasted meat, sweat, and steel. I already knew what waited for us there.
Warriors.
Men and women who lived beside their weapons like lovers.
The inn's door stood ajar, its hinges creaking softly in the evening breeze. The moment we crossed the threshold, the warm chaos of life enveloped us. Rough laughter, clinking tankards, grunts from half-drunken arm wrestling, and the heavy shuffle of boots across wooden floors. A dozen at least, mostly hunters and adventurers—folk who earned their coin dancing with danger.
As we stepped into the room, an elderly man approached us. His back was crooked like a tired tree, and his voice rasped with time.
"Travelers, greetings! I am the keeper of this inn. You must be new—strangers to this dust and smoke. My name is Regard," he said, bowing lightly.
Before we could answer, the floor itself seemed to still.
"They are with me, Regard."
A voice thundered.
The room hushed instantly, as though even the air dared not defy its speaker. My skin prickled. The hair on my arms rose as if touched by lightning. I didn't need to turn. My bones already knew the man behind me.
"Ahh… Segeford! It's been a while," the old innkeeper smiled. "Rooms are ready, as the guild requested. Upstairs, as always."
Without another word, we obeyed.
Tired from fifteen days on the road, we followed the stairway upward. Midway up, Edward leaned close to me and whispered,
"Captain Segeford really does command a room, huh? Did you see that? Everyone froze at just one sentence."
There was awe in his voice. And fear.
I nodded slightly. "He feels like a lion. No, bigger—a lion the size of a bull."
Edward chuckled nervously but then paused. "But… Kael. Tell me something."
He looked around, then dropped his voice lower. "Why do the hairs on my neck rise every time he speaks? I've heard strong men before. But this… this feels different."
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know. I felt it too. That same deep chill—not fear exactly, but something close to reverence… and dread.
Silvy's voice came as a soft chime behind us, just as we reached the top of the stairs.
"The Ladder of Burdens. That's what Professor Coren calls it," she said, almost in a whisper.
I turned, curious. "Ladder? What does that even mean?" I asked, leaning against the wall as the others opened doors and began settling into their rooms.
She stepped closer to the narrow window where we stood. "It's something tied to the weight a person carries just by existing. Coren believes adventurers become stronger not just by training—but by enduring. Pain, guilt, loss, blood... they stack. They build. Like rungs on a ladder."
Edward's brow furrowed. "A ladder made of suffering…"
"The higher you climb, the more you carry," Silvy nodded. "And the stronger you become. But fall from it, and—well..."
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.
We stood in silence for a moment, a strange hush pressing against the inn's thin walls. Only the creak of wood and faint laughter from the floor below reached us.
Edward swallowed and leaned toward me. "So… Segeford is basically cursed. That's what you're saying?"
A pause.
And then—
"Cursed, you say? Me?"
His voice wasn't loud—but it struck us like thunder. The very air changed.
We froze.
The room seemed to grow smaller, shadows stretching into the corners. I felt it again—the hair on my arms, rising. That unnatural stillness.
We didn't turn. We didn't need to.
Segeford was behind us.
He stepped into the lantern-light slowly, his form too large for the hallway, as though the building had shrunk around him. His boots made no sound, yet I could feel them in my chest with every step.
He looked at us—not harshly, but not gently either. Like a hunter regarding cubs.
Then, he smiled.
A worn, tired, terrible thing.
"You children are wrapped in silk. Bathed in mother's milk and father's warmth. It's no crime to be born into comfort," he said. "I envy it."
He placed a hand against the wall, knuckles thick as armor. "But this world doesn't care for envy. Nor comfort. There are things out there that don't fit into cursed or blessed, black or white. They simply... are."
His voice dropped, the weight of it making the wooden beams seem to groan.
"I am one of them."
No one spoke. Even Edward, who always had something to say, remained quiet.
"The Ladder isn't a metaphor," he continued. "Not entirely. Every wound you carry, every soul you bury, every promise you fail to keep... adds weight to your back. Some crumble beneath it. Others ascend. Me? I don't know if I climbed it... or if I'm what waits at the top."
His eyes met mine. I didn't flinch—but I felt the ice settle in my lungs.
In that moment, I understood. This wasn't fear. This was awe. The kind the ancients must've felt when they first saw fire—or the gods.
I wanted that. That presence. That terrible beauty.
Taren's voice broke the silence. "What do you mean by not cursed, not holy? What are you then?"
Segeford tilted his head, like the question didn't matter—and yet it did.
"Keep walking this road, boy," he said. "Keep drawing your blade, keep burying your dead. Someday, you'll know. Not from hearing it, but from becoming it."
And just like that, he walked past us. No goodnight. No farewell.
Only the sound of his boots vanishing into the dark, like a chapter closing.
We didn't move. We couldn't. Something in us had shifted—stirred.
I placed a hand on my chest.
My heart was racing.
And somehow, I knew...
This was the moment everything changed.
I stood frozen. A fire lit somewhere deep within me, not of fear—but of hunger.
What did he see?
What walks beside him that makes men shiver in his wake?
What is the burden?
I closed my eyes, feeling the air in my lungs, the taste of the moment. Then opened them, wide with purpose. I turned to my friends—Silvy, Edward, Taren. Their eyes mirrored mine.
We didn't speak. We didn't need to, as they say 'World speaks through eyes rather than mouth'.
We walked to our room.
_____________________________________
Bang. Bang.
Knuckles on wood. Loud, deliberate.
I jolted awake, blinking into the ceiling's darkness. I must've collapsed from exhaustion. Edward and Taren were in the room too—this one was assigned to the three of us.
Taren answered the knock and opened the door.
"Captain's summoned us," he said, already walking out.
I straightened my tunic, brushing the dust from it. My hair was a mess—coarse from days on the road. Edward caught up, and we followed the scent of cooked meat and firewood down the stairs.
At the table sat Segeford and the rest of the group, already eating.
The smell of spice hit me like a tidal wave—sizzling meats, thick sauces, and toasted bread soaked in fat. My hunger drowned out my grogginess. I joined the others and devoured the food like a beast.
By the end, I could barely move.
The meal was divine. No cart-bread or dried jerky could compare.
Then came the liquor—poured in thick wooden cups by the old innkeeper. A special brew found only in Valemire, apparently.
Didn't matter.
I don't drink.
Neither did Silvy or Taren. But the rest? They drank like it was their last night alive.
Segeford stood, wiping his mouth.
"For the newcomers, one rule," he said.
His eyes scanned us all.
"No matter the situation—if you want to live, follow my command."
Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed us.
One by one, we left the table.
I was too full to even speak. Edward offered his shoulder in quiet understanding, and we climbed the stairs like ghosts.
The moment Edward and Taren touched the mattress, they passed out cold.
I lay down slowly, staring into the ceiling's darkness.
My thoughts wandered—not to the food, nor the weariness—but to Segeford.
His voice. His words. His burden.
And the questions that burned deeper than exhaustion ever could.
As sleep wrapped its arms around me, I whispered the last words I remembered thinking—
What is the Ladder?
And why… do I feel like I've already stepped on its first rung?