Is that a person—


    “O, TRAVELERS!” The distant figure’s words reached us in the form of an echo, and I flinched. “To your right! Good day!!”


    I turned to the voice, glimpsing a tall, blonde woman striding toward us from deep within the forest. Her hair was braided back, her shoulders broad, and the grin on her face beaming.


    Truman held a hand over the longsword attached to his belt, hidden underneath his coat, while Alice simply watched the stranger approach.


    “Travelers!” She called again, her voice raspy. “Don’t go that way, you might die!” She waved at us.


    I frowned, discreetly putting myself behind Alice. “Is she threatening us?”


    “No, she sounds too eager for that,” Alice whispered back, blatantly putting herself behind Truman, thus leaving me facing the newcomer.


    The woman finally reached us. Porcelain skin, tainted with traces from endless travel and scarce showers, her eyes a stern shade of brown, small yet piercing. Her hair was a platinum blonde color, brown at the roots and arranged into two neat braids and tied into a short ponytail at the back. It was barely a few inches longer than mine.


    Her hands were on her hips, and not on her scabbard’s sword, which seemed to reassure Truman to some degree, making him loosen his grip on his sword’s handle, though his eyes didn’t leave hers.


    The newcomer’s broad grin didn’t waver as she took in the group, her presence warm.


    “We’ll die?” Truman repeated, his tone sharp.


    I looked up at Truman, though he stood slightly in front of me, with Alice beside him, I could imagine the look he gave her. I imagine it a less intense version of the dreadful one he had given me the first time we met.


    “’Tis a dangerous world. Why venture into a storm when there lies a village but a day’s journey hence?” She asked, maintaining eye contact with Truman, her chest and shoulder silver armor glinting in the light. Such quality of armor indicates some level of wealth, even for a knight.


    A lady warrior, in Wholeheartedly Yours? I''m impressed.


    “This village... Is it really that close?” Alice emerged from behind Truman, her eyebrow furrowed, a concentrated look on her face.


    “Indeed! Sail Village. A charming little haven, I assure you. I have traversed this path on several occasions and know it well. You are most fortunate to have encountered me,” she took a step closer, highlighting the small height difference between her and Truman. He barely towered over this lady.


    Strangely, the armor she wore was more sparkly than her face or hands.


    Alice, ever the observer, folded her arms and tilted her head slightly. “You’ve been walking all alone?” she asked, her tone polite but cautious.


    “Yes,” the traveler chuckled, scratching the back of her head, her laugh light, almost musical. “I was in quite the need for company, really, so when I heard voices, I came right over. As fortune would have it, I also possess knowledge that may serve you well.” Her eyes shone with a childlike excitement.


    Her gaze wandered between Alice and Truman, whose guards were nearly completely dropped just off of the sudden softness of their expressions. Her gaze never landed on me.


    “In this bitter weather, solitude is a burden most cruel. I’d love it if we could keep each other company,” she grinned, her teeth glinting in the dim light.


    My heart softened at the stranger’s earnestness.


    An unexpected delay, perhaps, but this woman seemed cool and useful.


    I caught myself giving her a sympathetic look, thus shaking my head.


    “How lucky,” my lips curled into a smile. “To meet someone so experienced in such a time of need,” I said.


    Her brown eyes landed on me, giving me a thorough look. Clothes, hair, and expression. Her gaze lingered on my eyes for a moment too long.


    “Do you have a map?” I asked, my voice light but lacking the warmth I aimed for.


    “Alas, I do not,” she said, her smile undiminished. “But I know these lands well and could draw you one if it pleases you,” She said, warmth back on her expression.


    I opened my mouth to speak, but her gaze jumped back to Truman and Alice. “You know, I’ve a sense for these things! I rely on the sky to guide me, the position of the sun—”


    My eyes narrowed.


    “In this weather? How remarkable,” My tone was optimistic, more or less. “Your sense of direction must be extraordinary.”


    “Indeed. But have you traveled these lands before?” Her gaze swept over me, then jumped back to Truman. "I have taken this road countless times! Though, truth be told, it grows lonely, and wolves make for poor conversation. ’Tis almost a miracle, your appearance!” She placed a hand lightly on Alice’s shoulder, then Truman’s, with an air of camaraderie.


    Truman offered a nervous chuckle.


    Okay, time to turn her dow-


    “Your guidance is appreciated—truly.” Alice offered a light smile. “It would be agreeable to join you.”


    Truman and I turned to her in unison, my neck giving an audible pop.


    Alice? Smiling? No. Not that. She wants to join her?!


    Alice cleared her throat, her expression sobering. “Yet, if I may, I propose a brief counsel. We must deliberate on our next steps.”Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    “Oh, of course! I understand. Important decisions, yes?” She gestured toward a cluster of trees. “I shall await you over there.”


    As she retreated, Truman stood beside me. “She is sort of pitiful...”


    I watched her retreating figure and hummed in agreement. “In a strange way.”


    I’m so glad Truman is on my side. This way, convincing Alice to ditch her should be easy.


    She might be oddly endearing, but she is, as Truman said, weird.


    “And harmless, perhaps,” Truman added after a pause. “What do you think, Miss Alice?”


    “I say we join her,” Alice replied with a slight nod.


    I frowned, then stiffened. Truman appeared, to my dismay, on board.


    “But that’s exactly what should make us suspicious, no?” I asked, trying to keep my horror at their easy-goingness under wraps.


    Truman rubbed his neck, his expression torn. “I don’t see a reason to trust her completely, but... she’s strong, and she doesn’t seem to be lying about the village…”


    “She isn’t,” Alice confirmed… with baffling confidence.


    I furrowed a brow at her. “Excuse me, but how would you know that?”


    She threw me a casual sidelong glance. “Instinct.”


    I blinked.


    “My instincts agree with Miss Alice’s instincts,” Truman contemplated, watching the woman''s silhouette retreat through the trees.


    I smiled.


    Okay. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.


    “Alright, since we’re all bringing up instincts as a viable source of trust. Mine tell me she is lying and dangerous,” my lips pressed into a thin line. “I mean, what does she get out of leading complete strangers to safety?”


    “Perhaps she’s religious,” Truman mused, looking over at me. “Or kind.”


    “You think she’s lying about Sail?” Alice asked, her breaths turning into white clouds before her like the rest of us.


    “Maybe not about the village,” I adjusted my gloves, trying to still the shivering of my body. “But something about her doesn’t sit right with me.”


    Alice took a long breath, her hands resting on her hips. “We’re overthinking this. If a village lies nearby, we must seek it. Shelter, provisions—anything will do. The cold grows more biting by the moment, and the storm will only get worse.”


    “Plus, if she meant us harm, wouldn’t she have drawn her weapon already?” Truman said, his hand resting over his sword handle.


    An idea ignited at his words.


    “Right!” I snapped my fingers. “What if she does mean us harm? She might be lying in wait to ambush us, or—or maybe they put a bounty on our head, and she wants to claim it!” I clasped a hand over my mouth.


    Sometimes I impress myself.


    “Your paranoia remains consistent,” Alice mumbled, but her gaze faltered. She looked over at he woman with a light frown.


    “Then let us watch her closely," Truman''s voice came out deeper than usual, as his gaze pierced the stranger. “Thus, the moment she displays suspicious behavior, I can slice her neck.”


    "That—!" My lips fell shut. “That would solve the problem of her reporting us,” I murmured, half to myself.


    A moment''s silence shared both surprise at Truman''s sharp words and an attempt to find a new excuse.


    Alice turned to me.


    “It is settled then. We will stick with her for now. Finding out whether she is a foe or a woe is a matter of time.” She nodded, her glance something between determined and scrutinizing.


    I opened my mouth to protest, but bit back the words. My pretense of meek acquiescence—or whatever the fuck I’d gone for—was slipping pretty badly. I shoved my hands into my pockets and muttered, “Fine.”


    Alice glanced between us both before striding forward, Truman falling into step beside her. Reluctantly, I followed, my boots dragging through the ground.


    When stiff Alice relayed the decision to the stranger in the distance, the woman’s face lit with joy. She nearly bounced on her heels, but instead let out a delighted laugh, beckoning us to join her camp.


    It''s on our short way there that she began telling us her life story. All starting with her name: Freya Hughes.


    Great. Another nameless character who has no relevance in the plot of this world.


    <hr>


    "Dear Korpa!" A sharp gasp echoed from the end of the hall, immediately catching Leila''s attention.


    Leila, a soft-spoken noble girl with fiery red hair, had just finished gossiping with her older sister in their chambers. She was on her way to bed when the servant''s cry halted her in her tracks.


    "What''s the matter, Stratioti?" She demanded, noticing the young man standing rigid in front of her brother’s room as if he''d seen a ghost.


    The servant didn’t respond.


    "Stratioti, I’m speaking to you," Her voice grew sharper as she hastened toward him, her annoyance rising. "Have you gone deaf!?"


    "M-My lady... the young master’s chambers... look..." The servant, pale and trembling, pointed to the door he had been fixated on with terror-stricken eyes.


    Leila turned, her breath catching in her throat as her gaze settled on the scene before her.


    Her brother, Leofric Yonge—war hero and knight of national renown—had been missing for several days. This in itself wasn’t cause for alarm, as it was not unlike Leofric to vanish without explanation.


    But what she saw now was far from ordinary.


    "What...?" Leila whispered, her mind struggling to process the chaos laid out before her. "What in the world happened here!?"


    The bed was torn to shreds, bedding ripped apart in violent swaths. Weapons lay scattered across the floor, with several speared into the wooden boards, their gleaming blades reflecting the dim light. Leofric''s clothes, intermingled with clumps of his fiery red hair, were strewn across the room. Blood stained the ground, though nobody could be found to trace its origin.


    Her brother’s once orderly, comforting bed chamber had become a graveyard of rage—a violent testament to his turmoil.


    A message recapitulating the words written on the parchment piece was left on the bed.


    <blockquote>


    [ I''m leaving. Do not look for me.


    — Leofric ]


    </blockquote>


    While the Yonge household reeled from the shock, somewhere far beyond their estate, a figure thundered across the darkened meadow on a white stallion.


    The moonlight bathed the rider in a spectral glow, his cloak billowing as he galloped beneath the night sky. Leofric Yonge, his once textured red hair now cropped brutally short, rode with unyielding purpose. His blood-red eyes burned with fury, his expression a mask of silent rage.


    He was a storm unto himself, a force of reckoning that no one could hope to contain.


    And his next destination, Jeozdam Village, was about to learn of his name.


    <hr>