"Okay, maybe I should take a few steps back. It's entirely possible that in ancient times they had used up all the opportunities that were better than building giant infrastructure projects, so they built giant infrastructure projects, and the reason why giant infrastructure projects don't get built anymore is that there are better things to invest in. In which case it sounds like it's not that we modern day people can't do stuff like this, but that we don't have a sufficiently compelling reason to."

"I think giant infrastructure projects do still get built occasionally, but all the low-hanging fruit in that regard has been taken? And they certainly wouldn't be built *here*, this trade route is nice but it's not *that* important, and there isn't a big enough government controlling it. Lots of governments focus on repairing ancient infrastructure over building new things anyway, it's more economical." 

Sida starts laughing.

"I just realized how stupid this conversation is. No one in the present is capable of building these locks, because they already exist! We don't have—" Breath. "economically viable construction opportunities like we used to. Curse this fallen world we live in!"

Dyva will break into sympathetic laughter. 

"Ha, when you put it like that." 

Eventually, they are able to get the wagon up the switchbacks and continue upriver of the lock. Several days later, the party approaches a crossroads. Tarka takes a look at the milestone.

[UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, HONOR RECOMMENDS YOU VISIT. IF THE OTHERS ARE AGREEABLE, GO THERE.]

"If neither of you mind, I would like to take a detour. There is a village a few days travel west of here I ought to visit. And no doubt there will be monsters to slay along the way."

"Fine by me. Leaving the main road is probably a good idea anyways, we haven't seen much action so far."

"Yeah I felt a bit bad about only going where everyone else was going, we were never going to find something interesting like that. So yeah, let's go!" 

They take the turn away from the main highway, following a tributary of the main river up into the hills. For a while, the geography follows the same pattern - paddies cut into the lower reaches into the valleys, with fields and woods further from the river and desolate pasture visible on distant hilltops, though the towns get smaller and predominately dwarf. Eventually, they need to turn off from even this road, and, with a few instructions from the locals, find themselves in a little town where they produce rothe, oats, and herbs from the local forest, along with all the various little products every small town produces. 

Tarka excuses himself, asks a few locals for directions, and makes his way to Pethric's family's house, a two-room mud brick building on the outskirts of town. It's evening, and they ought to be finishing the day's work soon, or have finished already. He knocks.

A middle-aged woman opens the door, looks confused for a moment before gazing down at Tarka, and says, "Hello. Who are you?"

"My name is Tarka, madam. I am an adventurer, formerly out of the Fallen Tower. I have news about Pethric."

She blanches. "What is it?"

"He has perished. Three weeks ago."

"I—what happened?"

"I can tell you the full story, though perhaps there are others who would like to hear it?"

"Right. Of course. Come on in, I'll... tell everyone." She exits through the backdoor, with some haste.

When Pethric's mother, father, and sister have gathered inside, Tarka begins to speak.

"During the last several months, I made several delves into the Fallen Tower. Usually with the same group, consisting of Pethric, myself, and two others. On our third and last delve, we encountered an ankheg, laying in ambush. They are not easy to detect before their trap is sprung, but it is possible to evade them, given enough situational awareness. Unfortunately, the others panicked." (had no idea how to react and made it much worse) "Pethric did not make it." (was eaten alive) "We were not able to recover any remains," (as they were inside the ankheg's stomach) "and I regret to say I do not have any of his personal effects to return to you either." (his landlord having decided to keep them) "I did not know him for long, but I considered him a good man," (albeit naive) "and I wish I could have done more." (much as he tried) "My condolences."

"Foolish boy, he—we told him not to follow that path."

"It is an inherently dangerous career." (though Pethric could have been more careful)

"Thank you for bringing us this news."

"I was in the area, it was little trouble. I had best let you have your privacy. If you have no further questions?"

"No. Safe travels."

Tarka departs.

[YOUR PRESENT COMPANIONS ARE MORE SENSIBLE. THEY MAY SURVIVE LONGER.]

Sida is with Dyva at the wagon, carving one of the boar tusks. So far she has eaten away at enough of the surface for two thirds of it to be textured like scales.

"Hey, Tarka. Did you have fun with your, uh, whatever you were doing?"

"Just delivering a message. And no, not really."