Nathan walked the first kilometer in silence.

The box weighed on his shoulders in a way that wasn’t just physical. It was a specific mental discomfort—the kind of weight that comes from a decision not yet made, pressing against every step like a reminder that time was running out and the decision still hadn’t been made.

The north road was mostly empty at this hour. An occasional traveler on horseback passed him by. A couple of merchants’ wagons heading toward Greywall overtook him without looking twice. No one paid attention to a Hunter carrying a box on his shoulder, because that was literally what Hunters did all the time.

Nathan walked.

And after the first kilometer, when there was no one nearby, he started talking.

"Look," he said out loud, as if the box were an acquaintance he was having a particularly important conversation with. "I want to be honest with you from the start, because I honestly don’t know what state of consciousness you’re in in there, and I’d rather that if you can hear me, you know how I’m thinking about this."

The box didn’t respond.

Which was expected.

"I need money," Nathan continued. "I don’t need a little money—I need enough money to cover my rent, my food, my gear, and ideally something extra so I’m not living on the brink of bankruptcy every week. Two days ago, I had twelve copper coins and a blank Seal. Today, I have three silver coins, a Class that no one in this kingdom has seen in forty years, and—through a turn of events I’m still processing—a box that probably contains a living person."

Pause.

A wagon passed in the opposite direction. Nathan waited until it was far enough away before continuing.

"The economic part of my brain is telling me that the simplest thing is to deliver the package, collect the remaining two and a half silver, and forget everything else. That’s what an average Hunter would do. That’s what everyone in this trade does, from what I’ve seen so far. That’s what the entire guild system is designed to incentivize. Pick up, transport, deliver, collect, repeat."

He adjusted the box on his shoulder.

"Honestly, that part of my brain has solid arguments."

He paused, as if waiting for a response.

Then nodded slightly.

"Yeah, exactly. Right. I was about to say the same thing." He kept walking. "The problem is that the other part of my brain—the part that’s very new and very loud and I suspect comes with the Class—isn’t willing to ignore this. And not because it’s heroic. It’s more practical than that. It’s that if I become the kind of Hunter who delivers suspicious boxes without asking questions, eventually someone’s going to use me for something much worse. People who operate that way end up doing things they didn’t choose to do, because they crossed that line without realizing it."

The box, true to its nature as a box, didn’t comment.

"Good point," Nathan said, nodding at a response that hadn’t occurred. "I don’t want to be a simple amoral hunter like the others either. If I’m going to escape poverty, I’d rather do it in a way that doesn’t turn me into someone my self from three days ago would have actively despised. My self from three days ago didn’t have much, but he knew exactly what kind of people he disliked."

He kept walking.

---

He passed a mill at the roadside, abandoned, with its blades motionless. Nathan looked at it for a moment.

"There’s also the strategic part," he continued. "Brenwick is a merchant with connections. That means he has people. Those people are probably in Greywall, on the roads, at some market stalls. If I change the package’s destination, he’s going to find out. Sooner or later. Probably sooner. Which means whatever I do has to be executed with enough institutional cover that he can’t just send three men to find me in an alleyway tomorrow."

He thought for a moment as he walked.

"But also—and this is important," he added, looking toward the box, "I’m not an official hero. I don’t have the backing of the kingdom. I don’t have a noble family to protect me. If I mess this up, there won’t be political consequences for Brenwick. There will be consequences for me. And those consequences are going to be specific, painful, and probably terminal."

The box still didn’t offer an opinion.

"Exactly," Nathan said. "That’s why I can’t do this in an obvious way. It has to be something where another authority discovers the contents without it looking like I deliberately delivered it. I have to be the Hunter who did his job and, through a series of circumstances completely outside his control, the package ended up being inspected by someone with enough rank to open it."

Pause.

"Which is complicated, because technically, sealed boxes under private contract aren’t inspected by anyone without a direct order."

He kept walking.

---

At the two-kilometer mark, the road began to curve slightly southeast, following the contour of a small grove that separated the route from the Gray Forest to the northeast. Nathan had been on the road for about twenty-five minutes. He had roughly one kilometer left until the outskirts of Greywall.

He lowered the box to the roadside to rest his shoulders for a moment. He sat on a large stone beside the path. The box remained leaning against the nearest tree, upright as Brenwick had demanded.

"Let’s review the options," he said to the box. "One. Mira at the guild. She already has an open file on me. If I show up with this and tell her what I suspect, she has to report to someone with rank. The problem is that the guild’s procedure for reporting a client is slow, requires formal evidence, and in the meantime the box has to be stored somewhere guarded—which probably means the guild’s main office, which probably means Brenwick finds out in less than six hours because his people have contacts there."

He nodded.

"Yeah. Mira won’t work. Too slow."

He tilted his head the other way, as if looking at someone different.

"Two. The Temple of the Three. Berran was very clear about this. The priests know things. They can act outside the guild’s framework. If I convince one that this is worth it, they can open the box without needing a formal guild order, on sacred ground—which takes Brenwick out of the legal framework where he can operate. The problem is that I owe them a favor for doing it. And I still don’t know what kind of favor a priest asks for, or how much a favor from the Three is worth, or whether I’ll be in a position to repay it later."

Pause.

"But at least it happens quickly. Yeah. That option moves up the list."

He looked at the box.

"Three. Berran. He doesn’t have authority, but he knows people who do. He could be a fast intermediary to someone with sufficient rank. The problem is that he already told me, very explicitly, that he doesn’t want to be involved in matters with deep political or religious implications. If I show up with this, I’m dragging him into something he specifically warned me he didn’t want to touch. That burns a bridge I’ll probably need much further down the road."

He shook his head.

"Berran isn’t for this. Berran is for future information. Burning him now is wasting him."

He looked back at the box.

"Which leaves us with the Temple."

The box, naturally, neither confirmed nor rejected the conclusion.

"Thanks for agreeing," Nathan said. "It’s good to talk to someone who listens without interrupting."