This is an excerpt from The Seer and the Starlit Key, in which the lucky merchant Brennada leaves on pilgrimage.

Brennada Zulephsen had the great fortune to have been born under a falling star exactly at twilight, a fact which every soul who knew him (and most who knew of him) were well aware of by now.

Since his childhood, he had always enjoyed extraordinary luck. From his humble beginnings in the village of Talorsford, he had set out to make his fortune. This he had found quite abruptly due to him happening upon the aftermath of a bandit ambush not a day from home. The wagons were a ruin, the men either dead or scattered. The owner of the wagons was nowhere to be seen.

His stomach had turned at the sight, but he knew the path to fortune was full of peril. He pressed onward, but only briefly, for the rays of the setting sun caught the glint of a latch underneath the ruined carriage. Upon investigation, he found it was a secret compartment. With a bit of fiddling, he’d gotten it open.

The wealth of gold and jewels found within served as the starting point for his own trade empire.

Fortune after fortune had followed the young man as he almost miraculously outmaneuvered his competitors and exploited precisely the right trade routes to his flawless advantage. His carriages never encountered misfortune on their travels, a fact that Brennada attributed to his lucky star.

After years of nigh-impossible success, he began to wonder about his luck. What could be the purpose of all this wealth? All this fortune? Brennada himself had never endured a hurt, so diligent was the care of the elements toward him. Surely, there must be some task for him to complete, something so grand, so improbable that no one else could ever be destined to fulfill it.

On one pale morning in his lavish home in Halorswealth, it had dawned on him that perhaps chance would not simply land his destiny in his lap. He had to strike out to find it as he had those years ago in the outskirts of Talorsford. But when? And in what direction?

Luckily—for luck was the only way of things with Brennada—the answer came quickly. While he was at market relating the tale of his life to a new dealer, he saw them.

In rows they marched, each of them clad in long, gray robes with burning censers in hand and hoods over their eyes. Their movements swayed with every step through the busy market street that pale morning. Their chants were soft but constant, unyielding as the soft trickle of the streams from the mountains. So stricken was he by their purpose-driven gait—a purpose that he felt he lacked—that he hailed them immediately.

“Pilgrims!” he called in the brash, bold voice the gods had given him. “What journeyings bring you here?”

One of them paused and turned to him, letting the others file around her as a river around a stone. “We pass through on pilgrimage to Vorn to see the fingers of Twileth, chosen servant of her graciousness Vismalet, Lady of Fortune.”

The Lady of Fortune? There was a shrine to the goddess here, but he’d never been. He thought a moment, wondering if this was some sign in answer to his desires for a greater purpose.

To his mind, it seemed likely.

“I would go with you!” he said, approaching with every intention to follow them at that very moment.

“You may not save you obtain first a robe of sackcloth and a censer. Fill your censer with burning ash and incense at the shrine of Vismalet here, and then you may join our pilgrimage.”

He furrowed his brow. “Forbid me—” he began, but then thought better. Who was he to question the ways of Lady Luck herself?

“Very well,” he said instead, smiling. “I will see you before the hour is done!”

“Then hurry.” She turned and rejoined the pilgrims.

Within half an hour, he had procured the items and garbed himself in the rough garment of the pilgrims. He itched terribly, and the scent of burnt ash stung his nostrils, but he did his best not to mind. Inwardly, he hoped the pilgrims’ destination of Vorn wasn’t far. He dimly remembered maps indicating that it might be.

Before the pilgrims had finished trailing from the city, he joined their swaying column. He quickly found that the chants soothed the ears while the gait settled the body.

Brennada Zulephsen, the most renowned merchant in Halorswealth, was marching to his destiny.

The Astral Wanderer is brought to you by The Seer and the Starlit Key, out now on Amazon and Kindle! Buy the book, or share this excerpt with anyone who you think is likely to be entertained by it. All proceeds go toward humbling luck-blessed pilgrims with overinflated opinions of themselves. Really!