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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the next chapter in this wonderful story by Olthadur, entitled
The Pilgrimage of Virtue
Background music by Smartsound

Chapter 3, “Brittany to Nightshade Pass”
Docking was a long process. Longer than I care to remember. We had to wait our turn amid at least twenty boats in Spindrift Bay outside Brittany. We had to wait for some boats to leave and for our ship to be given permission to dock. When we finally disembarked we were thankful to be able to stand on solid, unmoving ground.

Brittany is huge. Larger than I expected. I could tell that many of us felt the same upon seeing it. I fear we would have gotten lost if we didn’t have the Tailor to guide us. We went to an inn, a crowded building whose name I couldn’t see. It had old, hard beds in it. It was not a comfortable sleep, but it was better than sleeping in the hold of the ship.

The next morning, we gathered in the common area of the inn. We were all very happy, bright and excited. This was the first real day of our pilgrimage.

We all sat at a long table and ordered breakfast. Some, like the Tailor looked comfortable in this busy place, while the Farmer and Scholar looked very out of place – even slightly frightened.

As time went on, the mood changed. Everyone started to warm up to our surroundings on a full stomach.

“What is our plan?” the Elder asked, sipping his third cup of tea,

Everyone looked shocked, surprised and even embarrassed. Here we were, in Brittany without a next step forward.

“Don’t you have a plan?” the Cook asked?

“Did I? When did I say I had a plan? I suggested we go on a pilgrimage, yes, but a plan…” he trailed off with a rough chuckle.

“Where are we going to go next? We are here in Novia proper. What Virtue should we seek first?” the Scholar said.

“Courage or Love,” the Sailor said, “Their cities are closest. Truth is too far, we would have to travel through one of the first two to get to the Truth’s city.”

“The city of Courage is Resolute, west of here, in South Paladis. The city of Love, Ardoris is south. Far south,” the Tailor said.

There was some discussion – philosophical and practical. Some argued a preferential order, others spiritual. Eventually, practicality won over all else.

“It would be easiest to go to Resolute, then Aerie, then Ardoris. Most roads, easiest travel,” the Tailor said.

We had a map at this point, stained now with tea, beer and grease from our meals. Yes, meals. We spoke through lunch, too. There were stubborn members of our group who needed an extraordinary amount of convincing.

After more discussion, we finally agreed on the Tailor’s path. Tomorrow we would head west to Nightshade Pass and into Resolute to see the City of Courage.

There were arguments that went on through the remainder of the day. Some were saying that we could go further, others saying that we could only go halfway to the pass. Expertise in travel versus experience. I stayed out of it and others did too. We were pilgrims, but we never were in agreement. I hope we would be soon.

It still felt like a vacation, though. All that had happened was a trip on a boat and a stay in an inn. We talked, argued, drank, laughed and ate more. It was a vacation and not really a pilgrimage yet.

I wondered what exactly would happen. Would we all be together when we left Ardoris at the end of our pilgrimage? Would some of us get frustrated, angry, or even perish along the way? The Elder already slowed us down; he was old. He never told us just how old, but I would say he is probably eighty years old, if not a good-looking ninety.

I feel like we are off to a rough start. It took us a day to agree on a path for the pilgrimage. And we were already a few days into our pilgrimage. Would we last all the way through Ardoris? Maybe it was foolish.

What is keeping us on this fool’s trek?

I can only speak for myself. I plan on remaining through to the end, if only to record the events. I may end up being the only one to remain, writing how and when we all parted ways.

I hope not. I hope we succeed even in just the journey and not the pilgrimage.

We left Brittany early in the morning. The sun was still young in the sky. It seemed that we all were anxious and excited to travel.

The road was very pleasant. It was well-maintained and well-travelled. It felt safe as it was populated by travellers and traders. We travelled quickly down the road, even the Elder seemingly picking up his pace. Maybe he wasn’t as old as I thought.

“We were in Brittany, why didn’t we try to speak to Lord British?” the Smith asked.

“He wouldn’t see us,” the Cook said.

“Why not? I don’t hear of many going on a pilgrimage of virtue,” the Scholar said.

“There are the Avatars,” the Elder added.

“Lord British is more than a leader of a new philosophy. He is like a king, trying to bring order to the land,” the Farmer said. “Maybe he would be too busy.”

“He might have heard what we were doing and given us a carriage, or something to assist us in our journey,” the Sailor suggested.

“Like an escort,” the Tailor added. The Soldier snorted at that.

“We don’t need anything,” the Farmer replied, “we have each other, the road and the virtues to guide us. This is how we will learn about the virtues.”

She was right. We were silent as we walked after that. Either pondering her last point or silenced by it. I must admit, though, that I agreed with the Smith; it would have been nice to see, speak and be acknowledged by Lord British.

The land we travelled through was green, fertile and calm as we travelled south. We passed many towns and communities that surrounded Brittany. As we kept south, black cragged mountains came into view. The sun climbed higher in the sky and the mountains continued to grow, and began to look more menacing. The Tailor called them the Blackblade Mountains.

We traded stories about the mountains, mostly hearsay. The Tailor remained quiet, shaking his head at some of the more outrageous tales.

We turned west and began to see the pass, our destination.

“That doesn’t look like much of a pass,” the Scholar said, surprised.

“What did you expect?” the Elder said. They usually walked together.

“A space between mountains. That is what they are defined as.”

The Elder smiled softly and shook his head. “No, no. Well, yes it is, but it is not an easy space. There is a path, mostly uphill. There is a lake up there too, a rather beautiful one. And water does do wonders to the rocks. It is beautiful.”

The Scholar pondered this.

“A pass is a pass, but not all passes are the same,” the Elder said.

A few hours later we stopped at the foot of the mountains and started to make camp. It was eerily dark, so we had a large fire made to bring us light and warmth before our climb tomorrow.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the next chapter in this wonderful story by Olthadur, entitled
The Pilgrimage of Virtue
Background music by Smartsound

Chapter 2 – The Soldier’s Tale

It was cold on the ship. I spent the majority of the journey below decks and I was still cold. I wouldn’t have been able to write anything if it was just the temperature, but there was the rocking too. There was a fire, which helped keep us warm, but I thought it was folly. I was assured it wasn’t.
The journey was long – a lot longer than many of us thought. There was small talk, some excitement about reaching Novia proper. Nothing really happened until the Tailor spoke.
“This is going to be a long pilgrimage if we cannot find something to do with times like these,” he said.
There was agreement through the room.
“We need to do something to pass the time. As we are a diverse group, we need to come up with something that we can all partake in equally and fairly.”
There was then a long debate about what we would do – games, knitting, cooking – utterly ridiculous things too that I doubt the one who suggested them could do.
Finally, the Tailor said: “What about stories? We can all tell stories when we have a long leg of our pilgrimage. I think we will be on this ship for quite some time so why not start now?”
“What kind of story?” the Scholar asked.
“Well, we are on a pilgrimage of Virtue, why not stories of Virtue? We have all heard them, and probably have even experienced something that falls in line with the Virtues.”
“Like a fable or something?” the Farmer asked.
“Yes. Anything really. To pass the time and remain true to our pilgrimage.” the Tailor responded.
We were all agreed.
There was another long pause. We all began thinking of stories that would pass the time and fit with the theme of our pilgrimage. The Soldier came down to check on us. He sat and listened to our discussion as we searched for someone and something to talk about.
“You want to hear about Courage?” he said, his voice rougher than it usually was. The hold went silent.
“Everyone knows about war. They hear about it, read about it – some even dream about it. People travel to see great battlefields of past wars imagining the strategies and skill the generals had. Others imagine the individuals that stood on the ground, weapon in hand. They hope to imagine the thrill of battle, the desire to know you are defending something bigger than just you – a village or a way of life. Everyone always goes to battlefields after the battles are done. They should go before.
“I heard a story about a scout. He had been chosen to head out to locate the rumoured forces of his nation’s enemies. There was rumour of an attack, but no evidence. His nations armies would not be allowed to march unless there was evidence of a threat. This scout’s general was prudent and sent the scout out to find evidence instead of waiting to see if evidence showed up.
“You have to understand me, we are talking about rumour. Everyone was on edge. If they waited, they might be overrun. If they acted without threat, they may create a threat in neighbouring nations, or end the career of the general.
“When the scout asked where to go the general didn’t have a location. The enemies were in the east, so that was where the general suggested to go first. But the north had mountain passes they may try to go through. Or, if they had allies and money, they may come from the south via fleet.
” ‘I am only one scout, how can I go in three directions? If there is a threat to the north and I go south, I will fail,’ the scout said. He wanted allies.
” ‘If I send more scouts, our government will call me a warmonger looking for battle. They’d say I’m looking for trouble and stirring the pot. Our allies are trustworthy, I am told. But I cannot let the rumours breaking this trust go unheeded. I must act. You are the best scout in the nation. I am trusting you to make the right choice.’
“This was a great responsibility for the scout. He had the entire nation depending on him.
“He chose to head west. It was the most obvious entrance to his nation. He felt that if an attack came, it would come from there. He walked to the border, spoke to farmers, traders and travellers. There was no news of a muster or movements of a large force.
“The scout grew anxious. Either there was an attack coming from the north or south, or there was no need to worry. But he had to know for certain.
“He chose to go north next. He went to the mountain passes and watched, listened and waited. He grew more anxious. He feared he had chosen incorrectly and that the opposing force was already in his lands.
“He had a choice now, head back and suggest the attack could come from the south. It was the fastest, safest and easiest decision. The general would mobilize the army, head south and either be considered a hero, or declared a warmonger.
“It was an easy way, and he would defend his people, but he had a duty. He started to head south, to see with his own eyes if there was an invasion. If there was no invasion, his people were anxious for no reason. But he would have done his duty in either case.
“As he drew near to the coast he heard news of sightings of a large fleet. They had appeared this morning and were drawing near. They would arrive this evening. he had failed. The invaders were here and he had no idea of their numbers, composition or any weaknesses. He was still a day’s travel from the coast.
“The Scout came to the last town before the coast and showed his Royal Writ in the town square. He asked for the fastest horse and the strongest traveller. He promised them a wealthy payment from his own cache, then wrote it, signed it and sealed it with his personal seal, then sent them on their way.
” ‘Early warning at the least,’ he thought. But he needed to count the soldiers who landed, assess their numbers, equipment and supplies. He took another volunteer and went to the coast.
“The army he saw was large. He couldn’t see clearly as he was trying to hide himself and his companion behind a small hill. It was not an insurmountable problem, especially now that his first message would arrive.
“He needed to see clearly their number and composition, but he also knew he would be seen clearly if he tried. He turned to his companion, a middle aged woman. He told her his plan, to see the invading army and to have her report back at the capital.
“The scout stood tall atop the treeless hill, wearing the tabard of his order. He saw the numbers of his foes, he saw their composition and he saw their provisions. As he watched he told his companion everything even after he was spotted and shot by the sharpshooters. He fell saying what his companion must remember and write. She did, and fled as fast as she could.
“The invaders must have been placated in their kill as they did not go further. Or they did not see his companion.
“His companion made it to the general as the army was being mustered. She told the general what she heard the scout say and it changed the general’s battle plans. Needless to say, the land was protected by the valorous actions of this scout.”
The Soldier fell silent. The hold creaked and shifted. No one spoke. The Cook looked more puzzled than anyone, but didn’t say anything.
“You should all get rest,” the Soldier said, standing up and walking towards the stairs that led to the deck. “We will be docking in the morning, and who knows when we will stop next.”

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a wonderful new story from Olthadir, entitled
The Pilgrimage of Virtue
Background music by Smartsound

Chapter 1, “Prologue and Introductions”
When we left Owl’s Head the sun was already high enough overhead to start descending. I doubt we would make it very far today. The plan was to go to Brittany. We only got to Kingsport.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. There are nine of us and a good majority of us are not used to travelling. We ended up leaving Owl’s Head much later than I expected. I was at the Fire Lotus Tavern at sun up.
Hours of slow walking later and we arrive in Kingsport just after nightfall. And I am foolishly staying up, writing down the first days journey by candlelight in the inn.
Truly, I should begin with what the journey is about other than the ravings of a tired and impatient traveller.
This entire endeavour – called a ‘pilgrimage’ by some – really began about a week ago in Fire Lotus Tavern. The talk going around was about the large quantity of Outlanders entering our lands. We discussed who they were, where they came from and why they were here. Some of us were pleased, thankful even. Businesses were booming, we had more coin coming in than usual. Work was good. For some, business was too good, they couldn’t keep up with the new demand. Others were driven out of business by powerful Outworlders who seemingly could work through the night.
As we spoke and drank more the conversation became more and more heated. These Outlanders were called Outlanders because they don’t really belong here. They don’t understand Novia like a Novian. If they are here to help, why are they causing so much trouble for a lot of us?
Don’t get me wrong, we do need help. The world is in trouble. Whatever madness caused the moon to shatter and end the Obsidian Empire hasn’t just disappeared and left. We all know that. Lord British knows that – Outlander that he is. He supposedly saved other worlds before coming here. If you believe that, that is your own problem.
The reality is he is here and he has a very large following and there are hundreds if not thousands of Outlanders in Novia. So, what are we going to do?
A few drinks later, we considered our situation.
First, Lord British’s plan to help isn’t all that bad. We all agreed that the virtues he was describing were all well and good. We could not find immediate fault in them.
The major issue, however, is the huge amount of Outlanders rushing into Novia ‘helping’ us.
Lord British’s virtues are easy enough to understand. They would take long to really enact and follow. But the fact that Outlanders have been brought, or called, whatever you believe, is downright insulting. Why can’t we figure them out ourselves and save our own land?
That was the beginning of this pilgrimage. Nine Novians decided to travel our home land, learning all we can about Lord British’s virtues. We intend to show that we Novians can care for ourselves and do not need Outlanders to save us.
We intend to become Avatars.

For posterity sake, I suppose I should describe out ragtag group.
We were organized by the individuals who solidified our intent and brought us together: the Smith, the Cook and the Elder.
The Elder is the reason we took nearly more than a day to get from Owl’s Head to Kingsport. He will be the reason for a good deal of delays, I’m sure. As much as I cursed him today I would wager that we wouldn’t be a group of pilgrims actually going on this pilgrimage if it wasn’t for him. He was the main voice in going out into Novia and exploring the Virtues.
I’d guess the Elder is nearing a hundred. He is nearly toothless and has hair only on the back of his head. He walks with a cane and has a very pronounced limp.
The Smith is a tall muscular woman with blonde hair. She is quite a powerful looking person and has an equally powerful voice. She is determined to learn what she can about the virtues – especially to learn if the Virtues are an Outlander plan to subjugate Novians. She is so determined to learn the truth that she left her business to do so.
The Cook is a short, thin man who used to work at the Fire Lotus Tavern. He has short brown hair and a plain, forgettable face. He would often leave the kitchen and listen to the conversation we were having. He quit his job shortly after talk of this pilgrimage began to materialize. I’m sure the tavern doesn’t miss him, he spent more time with us than at his post.
He is a wonderful listener who intently listened to all of us speak. That said, he was the first of us to agree to come along. Maybe he just really wanted out of Owl’s Head.
The rest of us agreed over the next few days – some more reluctantly than others. When the Cook quit we all figured he did so only to sit and listen to us, but when the Smith sold her forge we knew this was serious. The Elder then started calling our trip a pilgrimage.
The Tailor agreed the next day. It wasn’t all that surprising that he agreed. He was a rich man who owned a large business. He wasn’t originally from Owl’s Head, or the Hidden Vale like most of us. He never said where he was from. He only told us that his clothes would sell for quite the amount of coin. We all just nodded. He didn’t look rich, he could be making it all up. He wore the same clothes as everyone else. He didn’t even act rich. But considering he was at the Tavern every time I came in he must have had a lot of coin to spend – or be seriously in debt.
The Soldier was the next to agree. He is a medium sized man of little words. He has a black moustache he carefully grooms and a mop of black hair. I feel like he joined for no other reason than just to protect us. After the Tailor agreed to come along all the Soldier did was say he was coming, drank some more ale, crossed his arms and that was that. He hasn’t said much since. Honestly, I am very surprised he came along.
The next day, I figured we would see the same people in the tavern, maybe less the Tailor or the Elder and never speak again of this pilgrimage. But as soon as the Farmer came in, she said she was coming along. She sold all her land and livestock that morning. I since asked her why she should do such a thing. Her reply was simply that the pilgrimage sounded interesting. I asked her what she thought would happen to her lands and she shrugged and smiled. She is a young woman, red haired and red cheeked. She is plain, homely, as if she was born of the earth itself.
As we discussed the weather over some soup the Scholar – who always sat near to us with an open book and pen – said she was coming along as well. I was especially shocked at this slight, nondescript woman wanting to join. I suppose it was her chance to fill out a book or something. A way to find fame or something. Not that I am one to talk.
The last one to join was the Sailor. He joined a full day later, before we even realized we would need such a companion. We were all discussing our routes, sitting around a map of Novia when the Sailor placed his mug on the table and said he would come along, free of charge – as if money had anything to do with our fools errand. He was a round man, devoid of any hair, save his eyebrows and a long braid coming from his chin.
I asked him why he wanted to come along and he simply said that he had been all over Novia – seen many ports, talked to various kinds of people, but never had heard of such a good reason to go anywhere as he did these past few days.
Sitting here and writing this now I do realize how silly we all were, the nine of us at the Fire Lotus Tavern. Our grand plan to go to Novia proper and learn of the Virtues. But, this is us, the Pilgrims of Virtue who left Owl’s Head, and are about to leave the Hidden Vale, to explore an Outlander’s plan to save us Novians from ourselves and our past.