The Pathfinder's Oath

The morning air, once crisp with the promise of dawn, had given way to the soft warmth of afternoon. Below them, the sprawling tapestry of Caledonia unfolded, blurring into a magnificent vista of greens and browns. The griffins, powerful and tireless, cut through the sky with breathtaking speed, making the days of travel typically required for such a distance feel like a distant, quaint memory.

"I still can't believe how fast we're moving!" Sona exclaimed over the rush of wind, her voice filled with childlike wonder. Her initial apprehension had long since vanished, replaced by sheer exhilaration. "We've covered in half a day what would take us almost a week by foot! It's like flying on a dream!" She clung to Arianne, but her head was tilted back, gazing at the rapidly passing clouds.

Miriam, perched behind Sascha, let out a whoop. "This is living, hero boy! Forget dusty inns and leaky tents! This is the only way to travel! Though I will say, my backside is getting a bit numb from this saddle." She patted Sascha's armored back. "You holding up there, Sascha? Don't want you falling off and making more dents in the scenery."

Sascha, despite his lingering discomfort from his humbling, couldn't deny the sheer majesty of the journey. The wind whipped through his hair, and the world stretched out beneath him like a living map. "It's… incredible," he admitted, his voice rough but sincere. "Faster than any royal carriage, stronger than any warhorse, I just… never imagined such a thing was possible for a Guild mission." He glanced at Aiden, still a dark, silent figure on the lead griffin. "He certainly knows how to get around."

Lucille, ever analytical, nodded, her eyes narrowed as she observed the landscape rushing by. "The tactical advantage of this speed is immeasurable. It not only reduces exposure time on the road, but also allows for rapid deployment to a crisis point—a truly efficient use of high-value assets." She looked towards Aiden's back. "His foresight in arranging this transportation speaks volumes about his operational planning, Pathfinder or not."

Arianne smiled, a serene light in her eyes. "This is how the world once moved, before the decline of certain ancient arts—to travel with the speed of thought, unhindered by earthly bonds. It is a glimpse into an older, more potent era."

As the afternoon sun began its slow descent, painting the western sky in fiery oranges and deep purples, a darker, more foreboding expanse of forest appeared on the horizon. It was denser, its canopy a deeper, almost bruised green, even from their lofty vantage point. This was the Whisperwind Thicket.

"We are nearing the destination," Aiden's voice resonated, crisp and clear over the rush of wind. "Prepare for reconnaissance."

The griffins, responding to a silent command from Aiden, began to shift their flight pattern. They started to circle, not descending immediately, but sweeping in wide, graceful arcs around the very edge of the Whisperwind Thicket. From above, the forest looked unnaturally dark, its trees forming an unbroken, tightly packed canopy. It was almost perfectly circular, a strange, unnatural geometric perfection that stood out from the surrounding wildlands.

"It looks… too dense," Sona murmured, leaning forward for a better look. "And so dark. Even the sun seems to struggle to penetrate it."

"There are no clear paths," Lucille observed, her voice tightening with professional concern. "No obvious clearings or natural breaks in the foliage. This will make ground traversal exceedingly difficult, even for experienced trackers."

Sascha squinted, trying to make out details below. "I don't see any smoke, any signs of life—no camps, no trails, nothing. It's like the forest just… swallows everything whole." He felt a prickle of unease. From this height, most forests looked inviting. This one looked hungry.

Miriam shivered. "Whisperwind Thicket, they call it. I always thought that was just a spooky name. But looking at it now… it feels like it's whispering something—something ancient and not very friendly." Her eyes, usually so sharp, seemed to lose themselves in the dense green below. "See anything moving down there, Pathfinder? Any big bad guys playing peek-a-boo?"

Aiden remained silent for a moment, letting them absorb the view. Then, his voice came, colder now, more focused. "Observe the periphery. The trees at the edge exhibit signs of blight inconsistent with natural decay. Note the subtle shimmering in the air above the deepest parts of the canopy—that indicates active arcane interference. The 'wound' on the world is strongest there."

He continued to circle, the griffins maintaining a steady altitude. "The Thicket's unnaturally dense growth and circular perimeter are not natural formations. They are the result of the destabilizing magic emanating from the core. The forest itself is becoming an extension of the rift, its natural order corrupted to serve the incursion."

Arianne closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them, a look of profound understanding on her face. "The forest is suffering," she murmured, her voice laced with sorrow. "It is not merely a place; it is alive, being twisted, consumed. Excalibur can feel it too, a low hum of distress from its spirit."

Sascha, looking down at the dark, unsettling expanse, felt a cold dread begin to creep into his chest. This wasn't just another monster hunt; this was something far deeper, far more insidious. The very landscape was screaming. He gripped Excalibur's hilt tighter, the sudden feeling of insignificance he'd experienced yesterday returning with a vengeance. He was a hero, yes, but against a forest actively being corrupted by inter-dimensional entities? This was a whole new level of 'bad.'

Aiden continued their high-altitude survey for a few more silent minutes, the griffins circling with an almost predatory grace. The vast, dark expanse of the Whisperwind Thicket loomed below, its sinister aura almost tangible even from above. Finally, Aiden's helmeted head tilted downwards, signaling a change in their trajectory.

"We will descend now," Aiden's voice resonated, crisp and clear over the wind. "To the eastern edge. There is a suitable location for a temporary camp."

The griffins responded instantly, their powerful wings adjusting, guiding them into a long, controlled descent. The rushing wind intensified as they spiraled downwards, the ground rushing up to meet them with astonishing speed. The party gripped their saddles tighter, the sheer force of the descent exhilarating and slightly terrifying.

"Hold on tight, everyone!" Sascha bellowed, a nervous thrill in his voice. He could feel the power of the griffin beneath him—a living, breathing war machine.

"Don't worry, Sascha, I've got a good grip on you!" Miriam laughed, her voice a mix of delight and genuine fear as the world spun around them.

The griffins landed with surprising softness, their talons sinking gently into the mossy ground at the very edge of the Thicket. The chosen spot was a small, relatively open clearing, sheltered by a cluster of ancient, gnarled trees that still seemed healthy, untouched by the blight consuming the deeper forest. The air here was cooler, crisper, without the heavy, oppressive feeling that emanated from the Thicket's depths.

Once dismounted, the griffins, with another silent command from Aiden, simply vanished into the deepening gloom of the forest edge, their departure as silent and mysterious as Aiden's own movements. They didn't fly off; they simply melted into the shadows, leaving no trace.

"They just... disappeared," Sona whispered, her eyes wide with wonder and a hint of unease. "Like Aiden does."

"The Pathfinder's influence," Arianne explained softly. "These creatures are bound to him and to the mission. They will return when needed."

The party stretched, shaking out limbs stiff from hours of high-speed travel. The late afternoon sun cast long, weary shadows.

"By the Ancestors, what a ride," Sascha sighed, rubbing his backside. "I still can't believe we covered five days' worth of travel in… what, six hours? That's truly magnificent: no bandit ambushes, no muddy roads, no sleepless nights in a ditch." He paused, looking back at the distant, now-tiny city gate. "It really puts things into perspective."

Lucille nodded, surveying their surroundings. "An excellent choice of campsite, Pathfinder: concealed, good visibility of the approach, and far enough from the Thicket's direct influence to minimize immediate exposure to the corruption."

Aiden, however, did not acknowledge their commentary. He walked to the center of the small clearing, and then, without any visible effort, began to produce their camp necessities. He didn't pull them from a bag or a pack. Instead, his hand simply reached into the air, into seemingly empty space, and with a soft shimmer that lasted only a fraction of a second, pulled forth objects.

First, a stack of perfectly rolled, thick canvas bedrolls, each looking more plush and comfortable than any they owned. Then, from another invisible point, a small, collapsible fire pit, complete with a self-igniting kindling mechanism. Next came neatly organized pouches of dried rations—hearty, nutrient-rich, and surprisingly aromatic—along with fresh, clean waterskins that seemed to refill themselves. Even a small, high-quality cooking pots and a selection of utensils appeared, along with packets of fragrant tea.

"Is he... pulling things out of thin air?" Sona whispered, utterly bewildered. "That's not normal storage magic! There's no bag!"

"It's likely an extension of his 'Path' abilities," Arianne mused, observing with keen interest. "He doesn't simply travel through space; he seems to carry a piece of it with him or can access it at will."

Sascha, having set Excalibur against a tree, stared, his jaw hanging open. "He said he'd 'take care of necessities'! I thought he meant he brought a bigger pack! Not... pulling an entire camp out of his sleeves!" He picked up one of the bedrolls, feeling its luxurious softness. "This is... surprisingly more comfortable than what I own back at home! Mine's just a stiff mat!"

Miriam whistled. "Well, that explains why we didn't need to pack. He's a walking general store. No wonder he's so blasé about 'necessary items.' This is far beyond what any of us could carry or even afford." She picked up a packet of rations and sniffed it. "Smells like actual food, too. Not dried jerky that tastes like boot leather."

Lucille examined a waterskin, feeling its surprising weight and the cool, fresh water within. "This level of localized dimensional storage... it's truly remarkable. It allows for unprecedented self-sufficiency in the field, reducing supply lines and logistical vulnerabilities to near zero." She looked at Aiden, a new layer of respect in her eyes. "He doesn't just fight; he sustains the entire operation from nothing."

Aiden continued to 'produce' items, his movements economical and silent, until a complete, albeit compact, camp was laid out before them. He then turned to the party.

"Set up the camp," he instructed, his voice flat. "Consume the rations. We will maintain minimal light. Rest. We enter the Thicket at first light."

As the White Eagle Party busied themselves with setting up the miraculously provided camp, Aiden did not join them. Instead, with the same silent efficiency he displayed in all things, he began to patrol the camp perimeter. He moved like a shadow, melting into the deeper gloom of the forest edge, his presence barely a ripple in the air. He was a silent sentinel, ensuring their immediate safety while they prepared for the night.

"Well, at least he's doing something useful," Miriam muttered, wrestling with a particularly plush bedroll. "Though I'd prefer if he just, you know, talked to us like a normal person instead of being a walking enigma."

"He is ensuring our security, Miriam," Arianne replied softly, already having effortlessly unrolled her bedroll and arranged her few items. "His methods may be unconventional, but his dedication to the mission is absolute."

"Dedication or just plain creepy," Sascha grumbled, still trying to figure out how to unfold his own luxurious bedroll. "I swear, he's like a ghost. One minute he's there, the next he's gone. How are we supposed to fight alongside someone we can't even see half the time?"

Sona, who had already laid out her bedroll neatly, smiled. "It's just his way, Sascha. We'll get used to it. And at least we have these lovely bedrolls! Mine is so soft!"

The party continued to set up camp, their earlier awe at Aiden's provisioning slowly giving way to their usual banter, albeit with a new undercurrent of respect and wariness for their silent leader. They lit the self-igniting fire pit, a small, contained blaze that cast dancing shadows on the surrounding trees. They unpacked the surprisingly appealing rations, munching on dried fruits and savory jerky.

Just as Sascha finally managed to properly unroll his bedroll and was about to take a bite of his jerky, a sudden, cold presence made him jump. He spun around.

"Agh! By the Light!" Sascha yelped, nearly dropping his jerky. Aiden was standing directly behind him, utterly silent, completely unnoticed until that very second. He hadn't heard a single twig snap, a single leaf rustle. He was just… there.

Miriam snickered, despite herself. "Jumped, hero boy? Thought you were going to wrestle another kraken."

Sona gasped, clutching her chest. "Oh, Aiden! You startled us!"

Lucille merely raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "As expected. His approach is entirely silent."

The camp was now fully set up, neat and organized, the fire pit casting a warm glow. Aiden surveyed their work, his helmeted head tilting slightly. His gaze then fell upon the untouched cooking pots, sitting innocently by the fire, and the half-eaten rations in their hands.

Aiden let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. It was a sound of profound, weary exasperation, utterly devoid of anger—merely resignation.

"When I said to 'consume the rations'," Aiden stated, his voice flat, "it did not mean to only consume the rations. These dried provisions are for emergencies—for rapid movement, or when a fire cannot be lit. The cooking pots was provided for a reason."

The party blinked, looking from the cooking pots to their half-eaten jerky.

"Wait, what?" Sascha frowned. "These are just... emergency rations? But they're actually pretty good!"

"You mean there's more food?" Sona asked, her eyes widening. "In the pots?"

Miriam slapped her forehead. "Of course! He's a walking pantry! Why would he give us just dried jerky when he can pull out a whole feast?" She looked at Aiden. "So, what's in the pots, Pathfinder? Gold-plated roast boar?"

Aiden let out another, slightly deeper sigh. He walked over to one of the cooking pots, covered with a tightly sealed lid. Without a word, he simply lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled amongst fresh herbs and aromatic spices, were cuts of succulent-looking meat, fresh root vegetables, and plump mushrooms, all perfectly prepped and ready for cooking. It was a complete meal, far beyond anything they would have expected to carry or even prepare in the wilderness.

"At least," Aiden stated, his voice still flat, but with a hint of something akin to a challenge, "you could have checked everything I provided. It is wise to know your resources."

Sascha stared into the pot, his mouth watering despite his recent jerky. "You mean all this was in there? Just... waiting?" He felt another wave of humbling hit him. Not only was Aiden a master of combat and travel, but he was also apparently a gourmet chef on demand.

"We just assumed it was an empty pots for boiling water!" Sona protested, looking genuinely contrite. "We didn't think to look inside!"

Miriam groaned. "Of course we didn't! Because who expects a magical cooking pot to come pre-loaded with a five-star meal? We're adventurers, not mind-readers!"

Aiden let out a third, even more pronounced sigh. It was a sound that conveyed volumes of exasperation without a single word. He reached into the piles of utensils, pulling forth a small, sharp knife and a wooden stirring spoon.

"Clearly," Aiden stated, his voice dry, "some matters require more explicit instruction." He moved to the fire pit, kneeling with an unexpected grace. He began to stir the contents of the pot, the fresh ingredients sizzling gently as the heat from the self-igniting fire pit intensified. The aroma of roasting meat and simmering vegetables immediately filled the clearing, far more enticing than any dried jerky.

"So, Pathfinder," Sascha ventured, trying to lighten the mood, "you're not just a master of perception and moving like a ghost; you're also a master chef? Is there anything you can't do?"

Aiden stirred the pot, the spoon moving with precise, economical motions. "I am proficient in all skills necessary for the successful completion of a Pathfinder's duties."

Miriam leaned in, sniffing the air. "Well, if it tastes as good as it smells, I might just forgive you for almost giving Sascha a heart attack."

"It will be enough," Aiden replied, his voice still flat, but the subtle shift in his tone suggested a hint of... something: perhaps a dry amusement, or simply a confirmation of quality.

Within minutes, the meal was ready. Aiden silently retrieved bowls and spoons from the utensil pile. The party, still slightly bewildered by the effortless production of a hot meal, eagerly dished out portions.

Aiden then reached into the other pot, his hand reappearing with a different set of items. For Arianne, he produced a small, wooden bowl filled with an assortment of glistening, deep-red berries and crisp, green leafy vegetables that seemed to pulse with a subtle, inner light. Alongside it, a small, intricate carving of a mushroom, its cap a vibrant violet.

"Your meal, Arianne," Aiden stated, his voice flat, but the gesture was clearly one of specific consideration. "It accommodates elven preferences."

Arianne's eyes widened slightly, a rare flicker of surprise crossing her serene face. She took the bowl, her fingers brushing his gloved ones. "Thank you, Aiden," she said softly, a genuine warmth in her voice. "This is... most thoughtful." Elves, by nature, often preferred fresh, raw, and plant-based sustenance, often with a spiritual connection to their food. Aiden had not only known this but had specifically provided for it without being asked.

The rest of the party looked on with a mixture of bewilderment and begrudging admiration.

"Wait, so she gets fancy salad?" Sascha grumbled around a mouthful of stew. "And we get meat and potatoes? What's so special about pointy ears?"

Arianne offered a gentle smile. "Elven bodies respond differently to sustenance, dear Sascha. Our needs are often met more fully by foods directly from the earth, unburdened by fire."

"Well, he certainly thought of everything, didn't he?" Sona said, a little awe in her voice. "Knowing exactly what each of us needs, even when we don't."

Miriam, however, just shrugged, tucking into her own portion of stew. "Fine by me. More meat for the rest of us. Though I gotta admit, Pathfinder, you're full of surprises. Good ones, mostly, when it comes to food."

The taste of the stew was phenomenal. The meat was tender, perfectly seasoned, melting in the mouth. The vegetables were cooked to perfection, retaining their natural sweetness. It was a hearty, delicious meal, far surpassing anything they had eaten on a mission, or even in most Guild taverns.

"By the Light, this is incredible!" Sascha exclaimed, his mouth full. "This is better than anything the Guild cooks make!"

Sona hummed in delight. "It's so warm and comforting! And the flavors are so rich!"

Lucille ate slowly, savoring each bite, a look of genuine surprise on her face. "Remarkable. The food is perfectly prepared and tailored. He anticipates every need."

Miriam, usually a connoisseur of stolen pastries and quick tavern meals, was utterly silent, her eyes closed in blissful concentration as she devoured her portion. "Okay," she finally mumbled, her mouth full, "I officially take back every bad thing I ever thought about silent, creepy Pathfinders. If this is what 'necessities' means, I'm all in."

"Good.", Aiden only offered one comment and merely continuing to eat his own portion, his movements as precise and unhurried as ever. The warm fire, the delicious food, and the unexpected comfort of the camp settled around them, a strange juxtaposition to the chilling reality of their mission and the enigmatic being who led them.