《Knight's Chronicles: The Obsidian Jewel》


 Chapter 1

    A village sat nestled in a narrow, steep valley. Its squat, run-down buildings looked moments from collapse. Sunlight barely reached the valley floor, leaving it shrouded in deep, stretching shadows.


    A heavy smog clung to the air, blurring the outlines of everything, making the world seem hazy and indistinct.


    The few figures visible moved sluggishly¡ªheading somewhere, yet wandering as if they had nowhere to go.


    "Don''t look back, Lukas."


    Lukas, a blonde with a full head of hair, tore his gaze away and faced forward. "Sorry," he mumbled.


    He sat astride a red, three-eyed creature, his arms wrapped around the rider.


    The man glanced back at Lukas with a slight smile. "Don''t worry, I''m not angry. I understand you''re scared since you''ve never left your hometown. I can imagine it doesn''t help that your first time is with a stranger."


    Lukas frowned in puzzlement. "Time?"


    "Oh, don''t worry about that," the man replied smoothly. He snapped the reins, urging the creature forward. "And don¡¯t worry about your family¡ªI¡¯ll visit them whenever I''m in the area."


    "But what about my father?" Lukas asked, clenching the fabric of his tunic over his chest, his fingers curling around something hidden beneath. "The harvest will start soon, and he''ll be overwhelmed at the mill without my help."


    "Don''t worry. Everything will be fine. I''ll make sure of it."


    Lukas nodded, lowering his gaze and dropping his hand. He ran his fingers gently over the creature¡¯s hide before quietly asking, "What kind of animal is this?"


    "A nyxstrider," the man said, patting the creature''s head, his fingers weaving through its mane. "You''ll probably get one of your own eventually¡ªso long as you meet my expectations. But I''m not worried. I know you won¡¯t disappoint me."


    He glanced down at Lukas. "You''re three¡ªtoo young to be my squire." His voice softened, but his gaze remained sharp. "Still, that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t train you unofficially. But..." His brown eyes narrowed, pinning Lukas in place. "That doesn¡¯t mean you can take it lightly. I expect you to give it your utmost, despite your age. Treat it as if your life depends on it¡ªbecause it might."


    With a swift kick to the nyxstrider¡¯s side, the beast surged forward into a gallop. "Welcome to a world beyond your imagination. You''ll see things no mortal should, smell things that defy explanation, hear whispers that should never reach human ears."


    The man turned, his eyes glowing brilliant gold as they seized Lukas¡¯s blue ones. "Welcome into my service."


    <hr>


    A meadow stretched wide and endless, a patchwork of tall greens and delicate wildflowers swaying in the gentle breeze. The air was thick with the scent of earth and saltwater.


    Yet, it was eerily quiet¡ªunnaturally so. The birds were silent, and not a single critter scurried about.


    The meadow was both peaceful and lifeless.


    Then, without warning, that peace shattered. The clash of metal and the roar of battle rang through the air.


    Screams echoed across the field as soldiers collided, their voices melding with the frantic orders shouted above the fray. The once serene meadow had been transformed into a deadly battleground.


    "Oswald! Get up!"


    "Break through their lines, men! Let them taste your blade!"


    "MY LEG!"


    "Hold strong, reinforcements are coming!"


    The field was dyed a deep and dreary bloodred, as the lives of countless soldiers seeped into the earth. It didn¡¯t matter who you were¡ªyoung or old, male or one of the scattered women¡ªevery person fighting for their life could feel death breathing down their neck.


    From above, the field resembled a chaotic, poorly planned spectacle. And that¡¯s exactly what it was¡ªa performance directed by two disinterested parties.


    Below, poorly equipped and trained soldiers fought and died in the fray, while a single hill far in the rear stood in stark contrast¡ªflanked by seasoned soldiers, silent and grim, their eyes fixed on the unfolding chaos.


    Tents of varying sizes dotted the hill, their canvas rippling in the wind. Amid them, tense figures rushed back and forth¡ªtending to the wounded, retrieving supplies, and preparing for the ongoing battle. Messengers periodically dashed from the battlefield, their urgent reports reflecting the changes in the battle''s shifting tide.


    Suddenly, a heavily armored rider burst from the fray, thundering toward the camp at breakneck speed atop a mangled, four-legged beast.


    "MAKE WAY!" he bellowed, snapping the reins.


    Soldiers scrambled aside, barely avoiding being trampled. The gaps were quickly filled, fingers pointing as hushed murmurs rippled through the ranks. The rider surged up the hill, his ragged cape streaming behind him, breath rasping beneath his helmet.


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    Upon reaching the summit, he barreled past the stationed guards and into the camp. No one dared to stop him as he thundered toward the camp''s center, where a towering tent loomed.


    That tent was the command tent, the largest structure in the camp. Two flags rose from poles planted before it, billowing in the slight wind.


    He rode into the inner camp and didn''t stop until he reached the command tent, despite the shouts ordering him to halt. The rider nearly collapsed as he dismounted, bracing himself against the ground at the last moment to break his fall. Blood seeped through his armor, dripping onto the dust.


    Ignoring the stares and hushed whispers, he staggered toward the command tent, clutching his wounded side. Two spearmen stood at the entrance, their weapons crossed before them. They watched him warily as he approached, exchanging uncertain glances.


    "Halt!" one of them barked, his voice straining for confidence. "State your business!"


    "MOVE, BEFORE I GUT YOU!" the rider thundered, his voice pained as he shuffled toward the guard.


    The guards froze, unsure whether to follow protocol or let him through.


    "Let him through."


    A commanding voice rang out from within the tent¡ªlow, yet unmistakable.


    The guards immediately stepped aside, hearts pounding as they lifted the tent flap for the rider to enter.


    As he passed, he shot them a scalding stare, his gaze fixing them in place.


    Murmurs erupted among the surrounding soldiers, their whispers filled with unease.


    "Wasn''t that a Squire?"


    "Squire Phillip, I believe."


    "Did you see those wounds?"


    "Terrifying¡ªI nearly pissed myself."


    "What the hell happened to him?"


    "I''d hate to find out."


    Inside the tent, Squire Phillip knelt. He''d removed his helmet, revealing his sweat-dampened face and bloodshot eyes. His head was bowed, and periodic trembles ran through his body. Each shudder sent his battered armor rattling softly.


    "Raise your head, Squire Phillip. What happened? You were supposed to be leading the Second Battalion at Point C."


    Squire Phillip lifted his gaze, looking past the war table to the towering figure before him¡ªan armored man. A large black bird perched on his shoulder, its golden beak gleaming. Phillip met its gaze and shivered¡ªthose eyes seemed to pierce straight into his soul.


    Phillip tore his gaze from the bird and focused on the man. "Knight Benedict," he whispered, his mouth dry.


    The man stared down at him, his narrow eyes distant and unreadable.


    Phillip swallowed hard, that cold gaze pressing into him. "We were ambushed. Those louts appeared like specters and threw the camp into disarray," Squire Phillip spat, forcing the words from his throat. "The range has been overrun. I barely broke through before they sealed off all the escape routes."


    Knight Benedict momentarily paused, "How did you return before any messengers?"


    "Chaos erupted as we fled. That may have delayed reports¡ªno one had a clear grasp of the situation. I rushed back to warn you, but more messengers will likely arrive soon to confirm."


    "Damage report."


    Phillip looked away, shame weighing heavily on his shoulders. "They were far stronger than any soldiers we''ve faced before."


    Benedict rapped his knuckles on the table, his gaze hardening. "Get to the point. How fares the Second Battalion?"


    "It was a devastating blow," Phillip whispered. "Only a third survived, and the four archery companies were nearly wiped out."


    A heavy silence settled over the tent as the men absorbed the news.


    "That battalion was the crux of all our plans. How did this happen?"


    A furious voice shattered the silence.


    Phillip flinched and turned to the left.


    A second man sat in a chair, his head propped on one arm against a small table. Like Benedict, he wore armor, but his face was flushed with rage.


    CAW!


    A bird perched on the table, fluttering and hopping restlessly, yet never leaving the man''s side. Like Benedict¡¯s, it had dark plumage, but where his bird was silent, this one was restless¡ªcawing as it moved from end to end, its sharp eyes fixed on Phillip.


    Phillip¡¯s shudders worsened under the man¡¯s harsh words.


    "We gave you the easiest job¡ªhold the range and secure the height advantage. And yet, somehow, you managed to ruin it."


    Phillip remained silent, his fists clenched at his sides, enduring the storm of words.


    "You were in charge of the rearguard, yet you let them overrun the camp! The enemy couldn¡¯t advance without being cut down by arrows, leaving us plenty of ways to break them. So tell me, how did you manage this?"


    Knight Benedict watched gravely as Squire Phillip was torn down, then finally sighed and raised a hand. At once, the second man fell silent and stepped back, his sharp gaze still drilling into Phillip.


    "That''s enough. Go to the barber-surgeon and get yourself looked at¡ªI don¡¯t want you bleeding out on my rug." His eyes shifted to the war table. "You¡¯re dismissed."


    Phillip struggled to his feet, his shoulders slumping as he turned and walked out¡ªdefeated.


    Silence hung between them as they gathered their thoughts.


    "Damn it all!" Fitzgerald exploded, slamming his fist against the table. "That bastard will feel the lash for this."


    "Calm yourself, Fitzgerald," Benedict said, rubbing his temple. "Your anger won¡¯t change what¡¯s already done. When this is over, we¡¯ll decide his punishment. For now, our priority is damage control."


    Armor clanked as Fitzgerald stood and strode to the war table, his sharp gaze scanning the maps and documents strewn across it. "We must assume Squires Geoffrey, Thomas, and Anabelle remain unaware of the situation and are still leading their regiments beyond the range."


    Benedict nodded sharply. "This is a perilous situation. One wrong move, and the entire army could be wiped out."


    "What do you mean?" Fitzgerald asked, brow furrowing.


    "The three regiments beyond the pass now have enemies both in front and behind them¡ªthey¡¯ve been effectively cut off and surrounded. If I were the enemy commander, there would be only one logical move: position several squads of archers along the cliffs, just as we did."


    Fitzgerald¡¯s jaw tightened. "And once they¡¯re in range, unleash a storm of arrows."


    "Exactly. And they won¡¯t have to wait long," Benedict said, his gaze shifting to a nearly empty hourglass on the table¡¯s far edge. "Any moment now, those three will begin withdrawing¡ªunaware they¡¯re walking into a death trap." He extended his arm, waiting as the bird hopped onto it.


    Fitzgerald exhaled sharply. "Perhaps the sounds of battle at the encampment alerted them and prompted a swift retreat. If so, the damage may have been minimized."


    "Plan for the worst. Don''t rely on chance," Benedict said evenly, lowering his arm so the bird hopped onto the table.


    "With that in mind," he continued, his gaze shifting to Fitzgerald, "gather the reserves. We march."


    Fitzgerald stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Fine, but you know as well as I do, we won''t get there until it''s too late. Armies march slowly."


    Benedict met his gaze, eyes sharp. "Then what do you suggest?"


    Fitzgerald exhaled, his eyes drifting toward the tent flap. "There''s only one option." He straightened. "GUARDS!"


    The flap flew open, spilling light into the dim tent. "Yes, Knight Fitzgerald?"


    "Fetch the quartermaster. Tell him to bring our guest." His expression hardened. "He needs to earn his keep."


    The guard bowed low and hurried off.


    Benedict groaned, sinking onto a stool. "I wanted to avoid this."


    "As did I," Fitzgerald admitted. "But we don''t have a choice."


    Benedict rubbed his temple. "We still need more information. We can¡¯t form a solid plan without it."


    "Riders will arrive soon," Fitzgerald said, moving to his side. "We¡¯ll have what we need then. Until that happens, we plan with what we have."

 Chapter 2

    Despite the battle raging to the south, the camp had to remain guarded. Therefore a select few had been stationed at key strategic points across the hill. Two guards stood watch outside a tent, spears in hand, drowsing in the heat.


    One of them suddenly poked the other in his side.


    "Hey, Henry."


    Henry cracked an eye open and shot his companion a revolted look. "Edgar, if this is another of your bug questions, Anyanwu help me, I¡¯ll shove my spear up your bloated arse."


    Edgar looked wounded. "You don¡¯t have to be rude. If you don¡¯t enjoy my company, say so."


    Henry exhaled through his nose, straightening. "What do you want?"


    Edgar frowned, then pointed. ¡°Over there.¡±


    Henry followed his finger to an unremarkable tent. He turned back with a look of mild annoyance. ¡°It¡¯s a tent. What about it?¡±


    Edgar shook his head. ¡°Just wait. You¡¯ll see.¡±


    Henry rolled his eyes and leaned against his spear. "Why are we even here?" he muttered. "It¡¯s not like there''s anything valuable stored here."


    Edgar shrugged. "Don''t think too much about it. We common folk can''t possibly comprehend the wisdom behind guard placements." He crouched down, eyes fixed on a bend in the row of tents.


    Moments later, a thin, ratty-looking man emerged from around the corner.


    Henry raised an eyebrow. The quartermaster? What¡¯s that pompous fool doing here? He never strays this far from the inner camp.


    The quartermaster moved quickly, arms wrapped tightly around his middle, his eyes darting about as if expecting an ambush.


    Henry smirked, finding amusement in the man¡¯s unease. He expected him to pass by¡ªbut instead, the quartermaster stopped abruptly, turned on his heel, and fixed his gaze on the unremarkable tent.


    He took a step forward, then hesitated. His gaze flicked left and right before settling back on the tent. Then, without warning, he pivoted on his heel and strode briskly back the way he had come.


    "He''s done that three times now," Edgar said, tapping his spear against his boot as he watched the quartermaster disappear.


    Henry''s gaze drifted to the tent. "Any idea what''s inside?"


    Edgar shrugged. "No one''s gone in or out since I¡¯ve been stationed here, so it probably belongs to one of the poor bastards fighting right now."


    Henry turned northward, shaking his head as the distant sounds of battle carried on the wind. "Anyanwu, have mercy on their souls."


    Edgar elbowed him, nodding to the left. "He''s coming back around."


    Henry turned just as the quartermaster once again approached the tent. "What do you think he wants?" he mused.


    "I think the owner probably owed him," Edgar said. "Bet he¡¯s struggling to decide if the man¡¯s dead. Can''t go rifling through his things and risk him coming back to raise hell later."


    "Spineless," Henry scoffed, shaking his fist. "If it were me, I¡¯d take everything¡ªtent and all. Speaking of which, that wench Hymn still owes me."


    "So, why don¡¯t you raid her tent?" Edgar teased, grinning. "You ain''t scared, are you?"


    Henry snorted and shoved him. "Her tent¡¯s at the forward camp. And besides¡ªare you daft? How many brothers do you think that wench has?" He spat on the ground, grinding it under his boot. "I value my life too much to mess with that foolhardy lot¡ª"


    "If you can chatter, I take it you don¡¯t have enough to do."


    Both men stiffened as the quartermaster loomed before them, scowling. "Report to the guard commander."


    The two exchanged sour looks before stalking off, their tempers as foul as the muck beneath their boots.


    "And if I catch you lazing about again, you¡¯ll be cleaning latrines," he called after them.


    Clicking his tongue, the quartermaster turned back to the tent. He hesitated, exhaling sharply, then steeled himself. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped forward.


    <hr>


    "Esteemed Knight, are you awake?"


    A man groaned, rolling onto his side atop a worn rug. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed behind his eyes, and the voice outside rang painfully in his ears.


    "Sir Knight, are you up?"


    He let out another groan, blindly swiping an empty bottle aside as his arms flailed.


    CAW!


    A sharp cry cut through the haze, followed by a persistent tug at his tunic. Blinking against the dim light, he opened his eyes to find a night-black bird perched beside him, its golden eyes glittering as it yanked at his clothing.


    He swatted at it, forcing the bird to release its grip and flap back. "Stop that, Tentsui. I''m awake," he muttered, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet.


    The tent barely allowed him to stand upright, and apart from the rug, which covered nearly half the space, the only other furnishings were a few stacked crates off to the side.


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    Yawning, he pulled open the flap.


    The quartermaster stood outside, staring up at him with trembling eyes. He swallowed heavily before speaking nervously. "Sir, you''re awake."


    The man inside scratched his head, his fingers raking through his hair. "What do you want?" he asked, lowering his hand.


    "Yes!" the quartermaster intoned, exhaling sharply. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he reopened them, he seemed calmer, more composed and collected. "Knight Benedict and Fitzgerald are holding a war council. They request your presence at the command tent."


    "Really? Then I can''t keep those Sirs waiting, can I?" The man turned as if to leave, then glanced back at the quartermaster. "Come inside."


    The quartermaster stiffened, raising his hands as he instinctively stepped back. "Huh?"


    "Come," the man repeated, beckoning him forward. "I won''t bite."


    The quartermaster swallowed hard and shook his head. "No, I''d rather not¡ª"


    The man clicked his tongue, then suddenly reached out, grabbing the quartermaster by the arm and yanking him inside. The tent flap fell shut behind them, plunging the space into dimness.


    A strangled squeak escaped the quartermaster as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. The man smirked down at him.


    "Help me with my armor."


    He reached into a crate and pulled out a leather sack. Opening it, he retrieved a hose and a quilted jacket before digging deeper and retrieving a set of scaly-looking armor.


    "Hold this," he said, tossing the jacket to the quartermaster.


    Without hesitation, he stepped into the hose, tugging it up one leg, then the other. Seeing him beckon for the jacket, the quartermaster hurried to hand it over before helping him pull it over his head.


    The man donned his armor piece by piece, adjusting the straps and testing their fit with a few firm tugs. Once satisfied, he moved to the other side of the crates.


    When he reappeared, a sword was in his hand, and he was fastening a belt around his waist.


    He placed a hand against his chest and briefly closed his eyes before sighing and reopening them. "Okay, let''s go."


    The quartermaster sighed, pressing himself against the tent wall to make room as the armored man strode past.


    Pulling back the flap, the knight stepped into the light, scanning his surroundings before turning to the quartermaster. "Guards were supposed to be posted outside my tent, yet there''s no one around."


    The quartermaster, narrowly avoiding a muddy patch, gave a quick nod. "Yes, they were here, but I just sent them away¡ªcan''t risk word getting out that you''re here." He glanced back at the tent. "Will the bird be alright on its own?"


    "Oh, yes. No need to worry about that," the knight replied, stretching his arms. "Lead the way."


    The quartermaster nodded quickly, stepping forward. "Yes, Knight! This way!" He hesitated, then glanced back, nervously twiddling his thumbs. "By the way¡­ what should I call you? I can¡¯t just say ¡®Knight¡¯ or ¡®Sir¡¯ in front of the peasant soldiers, can I?"


    The man scratched his chin. "Well then, just call me M¨¹ller."


    "M¨¹ller?" the quartermaster echoed, his gaze darting around as if merely speaking the name might draw attention. "The M¨¹ller?"


    M¨¹ller smirked, clearly amused by his unease. He pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head.


    "No, no, of course not!" the quartermaster said quickly, shaking his head so fast it nearly rattled. He hurried forward, leading M¨¹ller through the outer camp. "It¡¯s just¡ª"


    "Don¡¯t worry about it," M¨¹ller laughed, clapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. "If anyone asks, just say I¡¯m a mercenary from a little-known, nearly collapsed clan."


    The quartermaster barely kept his footing, offering a pained smile despite the throbbing ache where M¨¹ller had struck.


    As they neared the inner camp, the bustle grew¡ªmore movement, more voices shouting as word of the forward camp¡¯s fall spread from one soldier to the next.


    A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air. The quartermaster flinched, shying to the side, while M¨¹ller paused, sniffing the air. A look of understanding crossed his face.


    Suddenly, a tent flap burst open, and a woman rushed out. In that brief glimpse inside, M¨¹ller saw several white-robed men and women struggling to pin down a large man. He thrashed violently, blood oozing from a wound at his side and pooling at the corner of his mouth.


    "HOLD HIM DOWN, OR I WON¡¯T BE ABLE TO APPLY THE SALVE!"


    The woman rushed back inside with a pail of water, the flap falling shut behind her.


    M¨¹ller sighed. The quartermaster, looking pale, said nothing. Without a word, they pressed on, passing through the gates of the inner camp and into its heart.


    At last, they reached the command tent. The quartermaster turned to M¨¹ller with a slight bow. ¡°This is as far as I go.¡± With a nod to the guards, he signaled for them to let M¨¹ller through.


    Then, without another glance, the quartermaster turned and hurried away.


    M¨¹ller rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Alright," he muttered, stepping forward.


    The guards held open the flap, allowing him to enter unhindered.


    Inside, Knights Fitzgerald and Benedict stood over a war table, their gazes lifting as he entered.


    "Knight M¨¹ller, come," Benedict said, barely sparing him a glance before turning back to the table. "We don¡¯t have a moment to waste."


    M¨¹ller strolled over, eyeing the men. "Honestly, I didn¡¯t expect you to call for me."


    "Desperate situations," Fitzgerald said briskly. "Desperate measures."


    "Our terms remain the same?" M¨¹ller asked, resting a hand on the table.


    "Yes," Benedict replied, absentmindedly stroking his bird¡¯s crown. "Ten gold Pharos'' for every task we assign. I¡¯m a man of my word."


    M¨¹ller folded his arms on the table, leveling a stare at Benedict. "I want it upfront."


    Their gazes locked, tension crackling in the air. Then Benedict exhaled sharply and sank into a chair, waving a hand in defeat. "Fine."


    He turned to Fitzgerald and gave a nod.


    Fitzgerald clicked his tongue but reached down, untying a pouch from his waist before grudgingly handing it over.


    M¨¹ller smirked, tossing the pouch from hand to hand. "Pleasure doing business with you."


    Then, without warning, he straightened. The playfulness vanished, his face going blank. "What would you have me do?"


    Noting the shift, Benedict nodded in satisfaction and gestured to the map at the center of the table.


    "You¡¯ve probably heard the murmurs between the peasants¡ªnews like this tends to spread fast among the common folk. The forward camp has fallen." He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The enemy overran it, cutting us off from the main army."


    "You¡¯ve probably heard the murmurs among the peasants. The forward camp has fallen." He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The enemy overran it, cutting us off from the main army."


    "And?" M¨¹ller''s voice was flat. "Am I to recapture it?"


    "No! That is out of the question," Fitzgerald snapped, slamming a hand on the table. His bird let out a sharp squawk from the side table, ruffled by the sudden noise.


    Benedict raised a hand, silencing him. "We can''t have you do something so visible. It wouldn¡¯t reflect well on the Lord¡ªespecially with the Lord¡¯s Council coming up."


    M¨¹ller tilted his head. "So, what¡¯s my mission?"


    "Your mission is simple¡ªdistract the enemy on the bluff, particularly any archery squads you see. I trust my Squires to seize the opening and retreat."


    Knight M¨¹ller nodded in understanding. "Got it. Anything I should watch out for?"


    Benedict hesitated briefly before speaking. "Don¡¯t use any techniques that might mark you as a Knight. As I said, we don¡¯t want you drawing attention." He leaned back slightly. "Fortunately, there aren¡¯t many portraits of you, so your face isn¡¯t well-known."


    Light suddenly spilled into the tent.


    All eyes turned to the open flap, where a guard stood.


    "Sirs, a rider just arrived. Should I let her in?"


    Fitzgerald inclined his head, then looked at M¨¹ller. "Get to work."


    M¨¹ller wordlessly pivoted on his heel, ready to leave.


    Benedict glanced up, reaching into a sack beneath the table. "Hey, take this."


    M¨¹ller turned and caught the object tossed his way. He turned it over in his hand. "A horn?"


    Benedict nodded. "The signal for retreat. Blow it when you''ve done all you can. My Squires will handle the rest."


    As M¨¹ller strode out, his fingers traced the horn¡¯s carved surface.


    He glanced up at the sky and sighed. Hold back, huh? A smirk tugged at his lips. "Been a while since anyone asked that of me."


    Without another thought, M¨¹ller turned from the command tent, his gaze focused as he made his way to the camp¡¯s rear¡ªtoward the picket lines.

 Chapter 3

    M¨¹ller raced across the meadow, leaving the hill in the distance. He rode atop a black, three-eyed beast¡ªa nyxstrider. The creature had four powerful, scaled legs. Its head was sharp and angular, with a long mane cascading down the sides.


    Like its mane, the creature¡¯s long, bushy tail streamed behind it in the wind. Four jagged horns protruded from its skull¡ªtwo curling from the sides like twisted handles and two smaller ones rising at the center between its three glowing eyes.


    M¨¹ller closed his eyes. When he opened them again, their deep blue had turned to a brilliant gold. His gaze lost focus, drifting into the distance.


    Lend me your eyes, Tentsui.


    Back in his tent, the bird stirred. Tentsui ruffled its feathers and lifted off the fur rug, its golden eyes turning northward. It cocked its head, eyes irrupting slightly brighter. Then, with a mighty cry, it spread its wings and burst through the tent roof, disappearing into the sky.


    It left the camp behind, streaking toward the battlefield.


    He glanced up from his steed, his golden eyes catching the flash of wings as Tentsui passed overhead.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s vision blurred as his mind adjusted to the bird¡¯s broader field of view.


    After reconciliation, he beheld the meadow from a lofty vantage point high above. His perspective shifted swiftly, and an endless wall of peaks emerged. The range stretched in both directions, cleaved by a narrow gap. Sheer stone walls rose steep and unforgiving, unclimbable even for the most skilled. Yet just beside the gap to the left lay a steep and straining path that wound upward to a plateau.


    As the bird neared the forward camp, M¨¹ller spotted scattered remnants of the battalion. Soldiers sat or paced aimlessly, their wide eyes vacant with shock.


    The closer Tentsui flew to the battlefield, the more soldiers he saw. Finally, just before the fallen range, the bird passed over a large gathering of survivors. The soldiers were some distance from the bluff, weapons in hand, yet none dared to advance.


    In the space between them and the bluff, scores of bodies lay still, riddled with arrows.


    A wide trench encircled the foot of the range, so deep that even two men standing atop each other couldn¡¯t reach the top. It was broad enough that neither man nor beast could hope to leap across. Beyond the trench, several squads of soldiers and archers stood guard, laughing and jeering at the stranded survivors.


    Reaching the crest of the right side of the range, the abandoned camp stretched into view. Hundreds of tents dotted the plateau, some collapsed, others intact, yet their orderly rows were now broken.


    Soldiers rushed from tent to tent, snatching anything of value, leaving the camp in chaos.


    Officers chased after the gleeful looters, voices hoarse with shouted orders as they struggled to regain control.


    Madness and greed reigned¡ªit was pandemonium.


    Having witnessed such scenes on countless battlefields, M¨¹ller shifted his gaze to the archers lining the cliff¡¯s edge. Bows at the ready and eyes fixed on the battle below, the soldiers waited. Occasionally, they cast quick, anxious glances at their commanders, awaiting the order to lose.


    Tentsui soared northward, passing over the crest and gliding above the battlefield.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s eyes narrowed. The three regiments had weaved into one, locked in desperate combat against the enemy, straining to hold their ground.


    Clusters of soldiers formed around three distinct figures.


    Tentsui¡¯s vision sharpened, honing in on them.


    Benedict¡¯s Squires, M¨¹ller thought. The trio stood apart from the chaos, not mere soldiers but fully armored commanders, their voices carrying over the conflict-strewn meadow as they rallied their men.


    He counted at least four fallen squads strewn along the retreat path, their bodies riddled with arrows. Unfortunate, M¨¹ller mused. They hadn''t realized the camp had been overrun.


    Suddenly, a sharp pain speared through M¨¹ller¡¯s head. His focus wavered, and the battlefield vanished from view. When his vision cleared, he once more saw through his own eyes.


    Grimacing, M¨¹ller pinched his brow and leaned forward in the saddle, his eyes burning behind closed lids. The pain dulled, and when he finally reopened them, they had returned to their usual deep blue.


    M¨¹ller sighed and snapped the reins, spurring his steed forward. He tried to reconnect his vision with Tentsui, but the sharp throb in his head warned him it was futile.


    Instead, he reached out through their link and issued a command. Keep watch over the battle and alert me to any changes.


    He pushed the connection to the back of his mind, focusing his full attention ahead. By now, he was passing the first scattered remnants of the force, but he didn¡¯t slow¡ªhe pressed on.


    As he rode past, more eyes turned toward him, recognition dawning. He was the first to come from the main camp, and soldiers began following in his wake one by one.


    The commotion trailing behind him had long since alerted the group at the front. They quickly cleared a path for him to ride through.


    M¨¹ller''s nyxstrider reared as he pulled back the reins. Once it settled, he swiftly dismounted, his sharp gaze sweeping over the gathered soldiers. "Who is the officer in command?"


    Uncertain glances flickered between them, confusion evident in their eyes.


    Then, the crowd parted. A single figure strode forward¡ªa brown-haired, stern-faced woman. Five musclebound men flanked her, their resemblance to her apparent and unmistakable.


    They halted in front of M¨¹ller, their expressions stoney and defiant. The woman folded her arms, locking eyes with him. "Those officers you¡¯re asking about? They were the first ones targeted. The first ones killed."


    "Really?" M¨¹ller lifted an eyebrow. "And who are you?"


    "You can call me Hymn. Hymn of Cliffend," she answered, stepping closer. "Think of me as the unofficial, temporary leader. Now, your turn¡ªwho are you?"


    Her gaze flicked to his steed before returning to him, scanning him from head to foot. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Her lips pressed together. "You don''t look like you''re from around here."


    "M¨¹ller of Blackwood," he replied, his hand resting lightly on his sword¡¯s hilt. "Knight Benedict and Fitzgerald hired me as a mercenary."


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    "Blackwood?" Hymn echoed, brow furrowing. "Never heard of it."


    M¨¹ller glanced past her, noting her companions'' tense grip on their weapons. "Not surprising. It¡¯s far to the west."


    "Hmm," she murmured, studying him. "Do you have anything to prove your identity? A letter of engagement? Something that proves you''re not a spy?"


    Without a word, M¨¹ller reached into the satchel strapped to his nyxstrider and pulled out a pouch of coin¡ªKnight Fitzgerald¡¯s payment. He raised it, turning it so the emblem imprinted on the leather caught the light.


    "Is this proof enough?"


    Hymn¡¯s sharp eyes locked onto the pouch. After a beat, she gave a slow nod. "Any instructions for us from their sirs, M¨¹ller?" she asked, her tone thick with sarcasm.


    M¨¹ller ignored the jab. "The two Knights are assembling the reserve army before heading here."


    "Of course," Hymn snapped, throwing up her hands. She turned to the gathered soldiers, her voice rising. "As always, the Knights don¡¯t value us common folk! They could hand command to someone else and come themselves, but no."


    She swung back toward M¨¹ller, her eyes blazing. "Let me guess, they want us to storm the hill?"


    M¨¹ller raised a hand to his mouth, hiding his smirk. "Something like that. They sent me ahead to distract the enemy and give the three regiments a chance to escape. Bit much for one man, so I¡¯d appreciate help."


    "See?" Hymn¡¯s voice rang out, carrying over the crowd. "They don¡¯t regard our lives! We¡¯re a damn diversion¡ªcannon fodder at best. And if not for those three Squires, I¡¯d bet they¡¯d retreat, letting the thousands beyond the range die while calling it an unavoidable sacrifice."


    Murmurs rippled through the soldiers, some shifting uneasily, others nodding in agreement.


    "Be that as it may, I still have my orders. And besides," M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze locked onto hers, as if seeing straight through her, "no matter how you feel about the Knights, I don¡¯t think you have it in you to abandon your fellow soldiers."


    Hymn held his stare for a long moment before looking away. "I still refuse to throw my life away." Her eyes drifted to the right, settling on the archers and soldiers waiting just past the trench. "Even if we make it across the trench alive, closing the gap without shields would be suicide. We¡¯d be cut down before we got anywhere close."


    M¨¹ller followed her gaze. "True," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.


    He fell silent, thinking. Then, suddenly, his hand stilled, and he turned back to her. "What if I take care of the archers?"


    Hymn¡¯s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"


    "Oh, was I not clear? What if I kill them?"


    "Kill them?" Hymn echoed, raising an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you plan to cross over to them?"


    M¨¹ller dismissed her with a wave. "That''s not your concern. What I want to know is if you''ll join me in the assault."


    Hymn threw her head back and laughed sharply, the sound echoing around the group. "Fine. If you somehow manage it, we''ll all join you. Some of us have family over there anyway; if we can save them, why wouldn''t we?"


    M¨¹ller nodded in satisfaction. "I have your word."


    "Oh, and if you clear the area, don¡¯t forget to replace the planks we used to cross. Otherwise, we won¡¯t be able to reach you," she called after him.


    M¨¹ller nodded in acknowledgment before turning and mounting his steed in one swift, practiced motion.


    Snickers, laughs, and pitying looks rippled through the crowd as they watched him ride forward, toward the bluff.


    M¨¹ller scanned the soldiers, his gaze briefly settling on a slight and awed-faced youth before locking onto a heavyset man beside him. Steering his steed closer, he extended a hand. "Can I borrow that shield?"


    The man gripped a large wooden shield, nearly as tall as he was. He hesitated, glancing down at it. "I don''t know¡­ this is one of the few shields that made it off the hill. I can¡¯t fight, so for my safety, I¡¯m not sure I should give it up."


    "Come on, I¡¯ll pay you for it," M¨¹ller coaxed. His eyes flitted over the shield, noting its worn edges and weakened spots. "Besides, it¡¯s already badly damaged. It won¡¯t hold up against many more arrows, let alone a spear or sword."


    The man hesitated, conflict flickering in his eyes¡ªprioritize his safety or collect the coin.


    "Give it to him. He¡¯ll need all the protection he can get."


    M¨¹ller turned at the voice. Hymn stood nearby, arms folded, her sharp gaze pinning the man in place.


    With a heavy swallow, the man sighed and handed over the shield.


    M¨¹ller nodded in thanks, turning the nyxstrider. "Meet me after the battle. I¡¯ll compensate you then." His gaze flicked to Hymn. "Appreciate the help."


    Hymn scoffed, already striding away. "It¡¯s not for your sake. I don¡¯t want you dying without a fight and leaving me with a guilty conscience."


    M¨¹ller smirked as he flicked the reins, urging the creature into a brisk trot.


    It¡¯s not like I couldn¡¯t clear the whole camp myself, he mused, his gaze distant. But as Benedict said, I can¡¯t make a scene. I need to keep this within the realm of mortal ability.


    He adjusted the shield as he rode, raising it to cover himself and as much of his mount as possible.


    THUNK!


    A sudden impact against the shield jolted his arm. He didn¡¯t slow, but a glance back revealed an arrow lying on the ground.


    The first of many.


    Moments later, a barrage of arrows rained down, battering the already-worn shield, splintering its edges, and chipping away at its fragile frame.


    M¨¹ller snapped the reins, leaning low as he spurred the nyxstrider forward. The creature surged ahead, closing the distance to the trench¡ªbut the shield was breaking apart just as fast, leaving him more exposed with every passing moment.


    The enemy soldiers¡¯ cries rang out, their voices edged with alarm.


    "He''s not stopping!"


    "Keep firing! The shield won''t hold much longer!"


    "Damn it, I''m out of arrows!"


    "Tsk. Draw your weapons¡ªwe¡¯ll cut him down when he falls into the trench!"


    "What if he clears it?"


    "Are you daft? No beast can cross that distance in one leap."


    Seizing the moment, M¨¹ller leaned over the nyxstrider''s side, snatching up a fallen soldier¡¯s spear. He spun it in his grip until the tip faced forward, his gaze sharp and locked ahead.


    Then, just before the jump, he wrenched back the shield and hurled it forward with all his might.


    Before the waiting soldiers could react, the shield hurtled over the trench, slamming into the forward line. It shattered on impact, sending splinters flying and toppling them in a cascade of bodies.


    M¨¹ller leaned forward slightly, his leg tightening against his mount.


    Then, he was airborne. He used every trick he knew to increase the distance, raising his body and bending his knees as they flew over the trench. With a precise motion, he pulled back the spear, took careful aim, and, with a roar, catapulted it forward.


    The spear whistled through the air, soaring over the stunned soldiers'' heads before drilling into the one commanding them at the back.


    He collapsed, eyes wide with shock, lifeless on the ground.


    In an instant, M¨¹ller was across. He shifted his weight back and jerked at the reins, guiding the nyxstrider to a halt.


    The enemy soldiers froze, their eyes wide with fear, too terrified to make a move.


    Not letting the opportunity slip away, M¨¹ller abruptly drew his sword. With a horizontal slash, he decapitated the nearest soldier, the man''s head thumping to the ground, eyes still wide in disbelief.


    The grisly sight was enough to snap the soldiers from their panic. With a collective roar, they surged forward, eyes blazing red with rage.


    M¨¹ller just smiled. He leaped off his steed, deftly parrying a sword thrust at his chest before responding with an upward cut.


    He spun, avoiding a spear thrust, then ducked beneath the wide swing of an axe.


    Without their leader, the soldiers'' movements became disjointed, their strikes wild and easy to avoid.


    In moments, the majority of them lay dead¡ªbodies split open, slashes running deep, tendons severed, leaving them useless on the ground.


    Hymn and the remnants of the Second Battalion stood in stunned silence, watching as M¨¹ller cleared the trench and slaughtered the enemy.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Hymn whispered, eyes wide. ¡°He did it.¡±


    The surviving soldiers stared at M¨¹ller, their hands trembling, weapons slipping from their grasp. Then, one turned and bolted up the slope, screaming for help.


    That was all it took. The rest broke into a panicked retreat, scrambling away.


    They didn¡¯t have to go far. The clash had already roused the enemy camp above. From high up on the bluff, scores of reinforcements poured down, their battle cry rolling across the field.


    M¨¹ller turned, gaze sweeping past the trench, locking onto the awestruck soldiers. He raised a hand¡ªa clear signal to Hymn.


    A slow smile spread across Hymn¡¯s face. Then, with a sharp pivot, she thrust her sword skyward and bellowed, ¡°ATTACK!¡±


    The Second Battalion roared as one, their battle cry shaking the earth. With renewed fire in their eyes, they charged forward, storming toward the trench.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze flicked to the bluff, gauging the distance between him and the nearest enemy soldier. Deciding he had enough room to work with, he scanned the area until his eyes landed on several nearby planks.


    He grabbed as many as he could carry and carefully laid them across the trench. He repeated the process several times before suddenly ducking¡ªa blade whistled past, missing him by a hair.


    M¨¹ller drew his sword and lunged, his strike clean and precise as he impaled the man.


    Glancing back, he saw the first of the Second Battalion crossing. He just needed to hold the line a little longer.


    With a sigh, M¨¹ller steadied his stance as the enemy pressed in. I should have asked for twenty.

 Chapter 4

    The battle raged at the forward camp as the Second Battalion fiercely clashed with the enemy.


    Like their fellow conscripts, the Second Battalion was poorly equipped, but the enemy¡¯s state was even worse.


    At the very least, each of their soldiers wore a breastplate. However, the same could not be said for the enemy, as many among the enemy lacked even that.


    Yet what the enemy lacked in equipment, they made up for in numbers¡ªoutnumbering the Second Battalion three to one. The uphill climb only worsened matters, draining the soldiers¡¯ energy with every step.


    With those overwhelming advantages, the enemy very quickly turned the tide. Despite the Second Battalion¡¯s fierce start, they were already being pushed back.


    Nevertheless, M¨¹ller, astride the nyxstrider, carved his way through the enemy ranks. His mount thundered up the slope, his blade cutting down anyone who barred his path with precise, measured strikes.


    A glance back confirmed his fears: most of the Second Battalion had been forced back to the trench. Their formation teetered on the brink of collapse, with some already forced to retreat to the other side.


    They won''t last much longer, M¨¹ller thought, snapping the reins. The nyxstrider surged forward. With a swift slash, he cut down another soldier as he raced past.


    At this point, aside from Hymn and the few trailing her, he¡¯d left the entire Second Battalion behind. Even M¨¹ller, with all his strength, had begun feeling the pressure. With every gallop, the incline steepened, and another soldier fell back, leaving him more isolated.


    Stopping meant certain death. He was so deep behind enemy lines that all it would take for him to be overwhelmed was a moment''s hesitation.


    "Don''t let him escape!"


    "They¡¯re falling back! Drive them into the trench!"


    "No! Forget them¡ªfocus on the rider. He¡¯s the real threat!"


    "You heard him¡ªcircle the rider!"


    Climbing was a struggle, but descending was arguably worse. One misstep could send them tumbling down the slope¡ªshattered bones probable, death possible. Aware of the risk, the soldiers picked their way down, careful to avoid any misstep.


    Despite their fear, they closed in from all sides, trying to halt M¨¹ller¡¯s advance.


    M¨¹ller, however, expertly used the steepness to his advantage, weaving between them and slipping past their strikes. With a final flurry of attacks, he cut through the last defensive line, clearing the path to the slope¡¯s crest.


    However, one last man blocked his way. The young soldier paled as the monstrous beast thundered toward him. Though his hands trembled, he gritted his teeth and drove his spear¡ªnot at M¨¹ller, but at the steed¡¯s side.


    Unfazed, M¨¹ller flicked his wrist, parrying the feeble thrust. As he raced past, he slammed his mount into the man, sending him sprawling down the slope.


    With a final burst of speed, M¨¹ller''s steed cleared the slope, its hooves scarping over the plateau''s edge.


    "Half-circle!"


    Five figures rushed forward, forming a crescent around him. Their poised stances and steely gazes told M¨¹ller these men were no novices.


    M¨¹ller smirked, fingers tightening on the hilt. His blade flashed, swinging diagonally at the nearest soldier, testing his skill.


    CLANK!


    The soldier expertly absorbed the blow, boots skidding back a step. His companions instantly shifted, closing ranks before the gap could widen.


    M¨¹ller quickly reassessed the squad. He hadn¡¯t taken much note before, but these soldiers were well-equipped: full leather armor, sharp blades, and polished grips.


    Instantly recognizing the danger, M¨¹ller snapped the reins, urging his mount to break through.


    In response to his attempt, a spear lunged for the steed¡¯s legs, forcing it back. Another soldier stepped in, shield raised, jabbing at M¨¹ller¡¯s flank.


    Clicking his tongue, M¨¹ller jerked the reins.


    "Careful, we''re almost at the top."


    "Watch your footing."


    M¨¹ller glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. Reinforcements were closing in fast. He didn''t have long.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s mind vigorously raced as the soldiers herded him backward. Clicking his tongue, he reared his nyxstrider, driving them back.


    Their goal was never to defeat me but to delay me long enough for reinforcements to arrive. M¨¹ller thought, dodging a spear thrust. What to do? The slope¡¯s still clear. I could retreat... but that would mean abandoning my mission.


    A spear was thrust forward. M¨¹ller parried and kicked at the attacker¡¯s shield, knocking him off balance.


    However, the soldiers once more closed ranks, sealing every escape route.


    There are ways I could end them, M¨¹ller considered, eyes growing cold. The thought flickered¡ªthen he shoved it aside, yanking the reins to evade a sword aimed at his mount¡¯s legs.


    Suddenly, sparks of gold flickered in M¨¹ller''s eyes, but they disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. There''s only one option then¡ªjust a little longer.


    M¨¹ller''s heart pounded against his ribs. He could hear boots thundering behind him, pebbles skittering with each tremor.


    He swallowed hard, waiting for a chance, waiting for the single moment he knew was coming.


    The moment came.


    CAW!


    From nowhere, a black blur dove from the sky. It swept past before the soldiers could react, gone as quickly as it had appeared.


    For a heartbeat, all was silent...


    "AHHHHH!"


    ... then one among them collapsed, screaming and rolling on the ground, hands pressed over his eyes.


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    In that instant, while the soldier''s companions stared down in shock, M¨¹ller kicked his steed forward, bursting through the gap created by the fallen man.


    He rode into the camp, but instead of charging straight toward the cliff overlooking the battlefield, he pressed his leg against his mount¡¯s side and tilted his head. Sensing the cues, the nyxstrider veered sharply right, weaving deeper into the camp.


    As reinforcements arrived, shouts echoed behind him. Some soldiers paused to aid the screaming man, but most gave chase.


    M¨¹ller raced between the tents, avoiding the main paths and skirting the camp¡¯s outer edges. Though the sounds of pursuit soon faded, he kept his senses sharp, riding until he neared the opposite end where the soldiers¡¯ tents stood.


    He slowed down, his gaze sweeping the area¡ªthen finally stopped, his eyes settling on what he sought.


    M¨¹ller quickly dismounted and strode toward an extinguished campfire. He reached into the simmering embers and, after a moment''s thought, withdrew the last lit piece of wood.


    He raised it to eye level, tilted it upward, and blew gently. Splinters along the charred tip caught, and a flickering flame ignited back to life.


    "Tsk... search that tent!"


    "He''s not here."


    "Damn? Let''s move on."


    M¨¹ller turned; the searchers were closing in.


    He waited for the flame to steady, then pressed the makeshift torch against a nearby tent. Smoke curled upward, and within moments, the canvas was ablaze, fire licking toward the sky.


    He moved swiftly, setting several surrounding tents ablaze. Satisfied, M¨¹ller returned to his steed and mounted in one fluid motion. His eyes briefly glowed golden¡ªthen the light vanished.


    ¡°Ugh,¡± M¨¹ller groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shook his head, then kicked his mount¡¯s sides, breaking into a brisk gallop as the smoke billowed in a gray backdrop behind him.


    Shouts rang out as the searchers rushed toward the burning tents, abandoning their previous posts, as he intended.


    The fire will draw most of them away, M¨¹ller thought, weaving between the tents, his torch trailing a line of flame. I don¡¯t have long. I need to get to the supply tent.


    His gaze lifted skyward, eyes scanning until they fixed on a black blur circling above.


    "Tentsui," M¨¹ller whispered, urging his steed toward the bird.


    Encountering no resistance, he soon reached the camp¡¯s center, where the tents stood larger and more imposing than those on the camp''s outer reaches.


    As M¨¹ller dismounted, the bird swooped down, settling comfortably atop a tent. Prominent even among its neighbors, the structure showed signs of heavy use¡ªtrampled ground and a well-worn entrance. Moments ago, guards may have stood watch. Were it not for the fire, he¡¯d likely be crossing blades with them.


    M¨¹ller walked briskly to the tent and pushed aside the flap, marching in.


    Immediately, he pinched his nose. A sharp, acrid odor¡ªoily and faintly metallic¡ªfilled the space.


    He raised the torch, casting flickering light around the tent. Dozens of wooden barrels lined the space.


    M¨¹ller approached one and, after punching the torch into the ground, pried off the lid with his sword. Leaning in, he took a long whiff.


    A satisfied smirk spread across his face. Weapon oil, he thought, replacing the lid with a soft thud.


    Useful. Reliable. Versatile. M¨¹ller paused, a chilling grin widening. Flammable.


    With that, he hefted the barrel and carried it outside.


    Glancing right, he noted the smoke had thinned. Its faintly dark hue was the only sign of the earlier blaze. For a moment, it could¡¯ve passed for a campfire.


    Chatter and shouts echoed as his pursuers resumed their search. But M¨¹ller remained calm, methodically dousing the surroundings in the viscous liquid.


    Finally, he glanced around, satisfaction settling on his face.


    Reentering the tent, M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze swept from end to end. More than half the barrels still crowded the storage, the few he¡¯d taken barely making a dent.


    His eyes shifted to the torch. The flame still burned lazily, though it neared the ground.


    He hefted one last barrel and carried it out. Oil-slicked ground squelched beneath his boots as he trudged toward his steed. With a grunt, he dropped the barrel, reached into the saddle, and withdrew the horn he¡¯d been given. After sliding it beneath his breastplate, he pulled out a bundle of rope.


    He heaved the barrel onto his steed. Once it settled under the weight, he adjusted the barrel¡¯s position and secured it with the rope.


    Grabbing the reins, M¨¹ller led the nyxstrider to the tent. He ducked inside, returning moments later with the torch.


    A fond smile tugged at his lips as he patted the beast¡¯s head. Then, drawing his sword, he drove it into the barrel. Oil spurted out in thick streams as he withdrew the blade. With a final glance, M¨¹ller slapped the animal¡¯s rump, sending it into motion with a sharp cry.


    It cantered off, a glistening, multi-colored trail streaming behind it.


    ¡°What was that? Men, to me!¡±


    ¡°Wait... is that¡ª?¡±


    ¡°It is! Alert the men¡ªwe¡¯ve found the whoreson!¡±


    Alerted by the commotion, soldiers swarmed in from every corner, surrounding M¨¹ller within moments.


    Torch burning in hand, he slowly turned, observing the ring of rageful yet wary eyes.


    They edged closer, gait hesitant and defensive, haunted by firsthand knowledge of what he could do.


    M¨¹ller closed his eyes for a moment before unexpectedly speaking. ¡°Where is your commanding officer¡ªthe one responsible for this hill?¡±


    The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. After a tense silence, one stepped forward, fingers tightening around his spear. ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡±


    M¨¹ller shrugged. ¡°Nothing. I already have a good idea¡ªI¡¯d just like clarification.¡± His gaze shifted north. ¡°At the cliff, I assume?¡±


    Noting their stiffened expressions, a smirk appeared on his face. ¡°Thought so.¡±


    He slowly sheathed his sword, the metal shrieking against the scabbard. ¡°Convenient,¡± he murmured, ¡°but I can¡¯t help being a little peeved he didn¡¯t deem me threatening enough to come himself.¡±


    M¨¹ller sighed. ¡°Oh, well. He¡¯ll probably live to regret that choice.¡±


    By now, scores of soldiers had gathered¡ªthe nearest mere steps away.


    M¨¹ller glanced skyward, squinting at the sun, now a quarter through its climb. "Although... I can''t guarantee you all that privilege. My only advice... run."


    "FALL BACK! FALL BACK!"


    A man appeared in the distance, his cries sweeping across the field, his desperation cutting through the soldiers¡¯ confusion.


    M¨¹ller''s fingers slackened. The torch slipped from his grasp.


    The man¡¯s eyes widened as he saw it fall. He whirled around, boots pounding the earth as he fled. His final shout echoed behind him, a warning received far too late.


    "THAT SMELL... IT''S OIL!"


    As if drawn by a beacon, every eye followed its descent, the weight of realization slow to dawn.


    The torch struck the ground with a soft thud¡ªa sound far too gentle for the chaos it wrought.


    Instantly, flames leaped forth, devouring the oil-slicked earth.


    The fire raced toward the supply tent, engulfing it in moments. It surged along the glistening trail left by M¨¹ller''s fleeing steed, spreading beneath tents.


    And the soldiers...?


    Those closest were instantly claimed, their clothes igniting in an inexorable blaze. Screams tore through the air as men flailed and stumbled¡ªsome desperately rolling to smother the flames. Yet M¨¹ller¡¯s meticulous preparations ensured that even that proved futile; oil-cloaked ground clung to them, turning hope into despair.


    Those outside the trap¡¯s radius fled the initial horror¡ªbut safety was no guarantee.


    Across the camp, thanks to M¨¹ller¡¯s fleeing steed, cries echoed as the burning trail set fire to everything in its path. The flames propagated without aid, the blaze feeding itself. Tents ignited one after another, sparks leaping from canvas to canvas, creating a chain reaction.


    Panic reigned. Soldiers dashed from end to end, faces twisted in fear, desperate for shelter from the ravenous inferno.


    And the architect of it all?


    M¨¹ller had long left the plateau and climbed the right wall of peaks. Now he sat atop a smooth rock, back against the stone. The fires below flickered in his gaze, the chaos mirrored in his eyes. His face was an emotionless mask, devoid of sympathy, as men fell by the hundreds, all according to his design.


    His gaze shifted to the cliff. Though they were still outside the fire¡¯s reach, unease spread among the archers as the flames crept closer.


    The commanders tried to maintain control, but it was a losing battle.


    The first man ran¡ªthat was all it took. The rest broke, fleeing in all directions.


    Where would they go? M¨¹ller couldn¡¯t say. A cliff lay to their front and left, an unscalable wall to their right, and a raging fire at their back. Even if they escaped the flames, their only path led down the slope¡ªstraight into the Second Battalion. With the panic and desperation on display, M¨¹ller wouldn''t dare wager a coin on their chances of victory.


    As M¨¹ller observed, he reached into his breastplate and withdrew the horn. Raising it to his lips, he blew. Despite the fire¡¯s crackle and the battlefield¡¯s mayhem, the horn¡¯s call rang, loud and sharp.


    He didn¡¯t wait to confirm the army¡¯s retreat. Returning the horn, he stood.


    "The rest depends on those squires," M¨¹ller muttered, turning from the plateau. "I¡¯ve done my part."


    "And what a part that was."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s eyes shot to the left, his sword already half-drawn.


    A woman stood there, a slight smirk curling her lips as she gazed below.


    Her hair was a fiery red. It caught the flames¡¯ glow, casting her in a brilliant, burning hue. Brown, slanted eyes flicked toward him¡ªcalm and amused.


    M¨¹ller stepped toward her, his guard raised. "Who are you? Friend or foe?"


    She turned to him, eyes locking with his. "Friend, I hope," she said, a smirk playing on her lips.


    Like him, she moved closer. "Though... that depends on you." Her gaze gleamed. Spontaneously, her brown eyes shifted, glowing with a luminescent gold. "But oh, I would so love to be friends."

 Chapter 5

    A Knight, M¨¹ller thought, eyes narrowing.


    The woman raised her arms, turning slowly. "No need to be so tense. See? I¡¯m unarmed."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze swept over her. "Forgive me. I don¡¯t usually run into Knights like this."


    "I just had to see who caused all this chaos¡ªand in less than half an hourglass," she said, dropping to the ground and folding her legs beneath her. "So¡­ who are you? One of Lord Cliffend¡¯s men?"


    M¨¹ller shrugged. "For now. I was hired by his vassal, Knight Benedict." He sheathed his sword before sitting. "Never even met the Lord."


    "Well, they made an excellent choice hiring you. And that oil trick?" She kissed her fingertips. "Pure artistry."


    The playful glint in her eyes vanished, leaving something far sharper behind. "Tell me¡­ how were you certain the soldiers wouldn¡¯t smell it? Oil¡¯s not exactly subtle."


    M¨¹ller paused. "I wasn¡¯t. Just a guess. Peasants don¡¯t get their hands on oil¡ªespecially not peasants from a backwater like Drifteland."


    "A bold gamble." Her gaze drifted to the scrambling men below. "I¡¯ve got to applaud you¡ªoutstanding work for a sellsword chasing nothing but coin."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s brow twitched. "I try my best."


    The woman¡¯s eyes slid back to him, the inferno glinting in her irises. "And I¡¯m guessing you were instructed not to expose that you''re a Knight."


    M¨¹ller opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a grin. "Don¡¯t bother denying it. I know I¡¯m right." She leaned back on her hands, rocking slightly. Shame I wasn¡¯t built like that. One slight inconvenience, and I¡¯m tossing orders straight into the dirt."


    "Unfortunate," M¨¹ller commented, folding his arms.


    "Still... I received similar orders." Her lips curved up in a slight smile. "Guess both Lords don''t want to escalate this past a small territorial scuffle."


    M¨¹ller smirked and shook his head, refusing to comment.


    "Well," the woman said suddenly, "you should leave now. Wouldn¡¯t want to miss the retreat."


    "Retreat?" M¨¹ller frowned.


    She inclined her head to the left.


    M¨¹ller followed her gaze. Though his view was partially blocked, he caught the telltale glint of steel at the bottom of the slope.


    "Reinforcements," he muttered, turning back.


    "Exactly." She gave a sharp nod. "If you get it, then get moving."


    M¨¹ller rose and turned to leave but paused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "You never answered my question. Who are you?"


    "Me?" Her gaze drifted somewhere far off. "That¡¯s right¡­ who am I?"


    M¨¹ller turned fully to face her. "You don¡¯t remember your name?"


    The woman waved a hand dismissively. "Of course I do. That was for me, not for you. Understand?"


    M¨¹ller didn¡¯t, but he let it go. "Then what is your name?"


    She turned to him, a wide smirk lighting up her face. "The one and only Romanova¡­ Knight Romanova."


    M¨¹ller took a step forward, starting his trek. "Never heard of you."


    "Well, I¡¯ve heard of you, Knight M¨¹ller," Romanova called after him, watching him walk away. "And who knows¡­ before this little scuffle ends, we might become very close."


    M¨¹ller paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Perhaps."


    Romanova grinned. "Imagine a first meeting like this." She spread her arms wide as if embracing the world itself. "Fires raging below, screams riding the wind, the choking fetor of blood."


    She drew in a deep breath, eyes rolling back in ecstatic bliss. "There¡¯s no perhaps about it. It is meant to be."


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    Without another word, she spun on her heel and leaped off the rocks, vanishing into the burning camp below. Her final words lingered in the air.


    M¨¹ller sighed, relief washing over him. Finally, she''s gone. He scanned the camp to confirm.


    But as his gaze swept across the smoldering ruin, his brow creased. "Where did all the soldiers go?" he muttered, eyes darting from one end to the other.


    He knew this wasn''t part of his orders, but he''d never been able to resist an intriguing mystery, especially one solvable without risk to his life.


    He pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing slow, steady breaths. Gradually, his irises began to glow, flooding with blazing gold.


    Pain throbbed behind his skull, but he endured it, peering through Tentsui¡¯s eyes.


    The flames still raged below, painting scenes of stomach-churning horror¡ªmen caught in the throes of death, screaming as fire melted flesh and boiled blood. Friends abandoned friends, desperate for survival, while the rare few clung to each other, defiant even as the flames took them.


    Yet for each body, M¨¹ller could see, there were just as many missing¡ªhundreds... gone.


    But as he watched, a pattern emerged. Instead of fleeing toward the slope, most surviving soldiers pressed deeper into the flames, all heading for the same point.


    Most never made it, collapsing before they could reach their destination. But a handful did, and without hesitation, they leaped into a fire burning near the camp¡¯s center.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s eyes narrowed. He turned away, the glow in his irises dimming. Above him, Tentsui swooped down with a sharp cry, landing gently on his shoulder and rubbing its head against his neck.


    He stroked the underside of the bird¡¯s beak, smiling faintly. "You did great. Good job."


    Tentsui purred softly in response, leaning into his hand.


    With that, M¨¹ller resumed his climb, a guiding hand tracing the rock face as he moved up.


    The sun bore down, heat prickling his skin. He grunted, hauling himself onto a ledge, only for the sharp scent of burnt wood to invade his nose.


    M¨¹ller waved at the smoke, but the smell clung stubbornly, curling in his nostrils like a ghost that refused to leave.


    Damn, this smoke. His lips curled in irritation. I shouldn¡¯t have used fire. There were other ways.


    His vision blurred at the edges, yet somehow, his thoughts sharpened. Like his mind was surfacing from beneath deep water.


    He turned to press on¡ª


    And froze, hand braced against the rock.


    Wait. Burnt wood? That doesn¡¯t make sense. The bluff hadn¡¯t held enough wood to have the smell present. He should be smelling burnt flesh, charred cloth, and blood.


    His hands fell to his sides, realization dawning.


    This isn¡¯t right. I shouldn¡¯t be here. This was¡­ long ago. Long before¡ª


    M¨¹ller¡¯s eyes cracked open, the memory dissolving like smoke on the wind. A brown canvas filled his vision¡ªthe stretched covering of a wagon.


    The wagon jolted hard, his body bouncing against the rough wood as the wheels clattered across the uneven ground.


    His fingers twitched. His hand dangled outside, heated from the burning sun. At some point during sleep, his arm must have slipped free.


    Grimacing, M¨¹ller pulled his hand back inside, groaning softly as he pushed himself upright.


    ¡°M¨¹ller, you¡¯re awake. Good¡ªsaves me the trouble.¡±


    M¨¹ller turned toward the voice.


    A rough-looking, crazy-haired man sat on the opposite side of the wagon. Like M¨¹ller, his body jolted with every bump, yet he didn¡¯t seem bothered. Instead, he looked right at home, a well-worn pipe dangling from his mouth, its smoke curling lazily through the air.


    M¨¹ller waved a hand in front of his face. I should have known.


    Of course, the smoke was his doing.


    Turning away from the man, M¨¹ller shifted his gaze to the wagon¡¯s open back.


    A vast expanse of sand stretched before him, rolling dunes that reached toward the distant horizon. Shimmering heat waves danced in the air, distorting the edges of the landscape.


    A warm breeze slipped through the canvas cover, offering a slight reprieve from the desert¡¯s acrid heat.


    M¨¹ller exhaled deeply, trying to calm his unsettled mind.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a peaceful rest, was it?¡±


    M¨¹ller groaned inwardly and turned back, glaring daggers at the man. ¡°No. It was comforting.¡±


    The man took a slow drag from his pipe, exhaling a thick plume of smoke. ¡°Hmm, could¡¯ve fooled me. Your face told a different story.¡±


    M¨¹ller didn¡¯t answer. His gaze drifted around the wagon, skimming over the crates and baskets piled inside¡ªsearching for anything to hold his interest.


    ¡°You¡¯re a strange one.¡±


    M¨¹ller eyes twitched. He took a calming breath before turning back. "Strange?"


    The man¡¯s head shifted, the smoke swirling about his body. His gaze dragged lazily over him, from his blonde hair to his deep blue eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got the look of a Blackwoodian,¡± he said, pipe bobbing between his teeth, ¡°but you carry yourself as one from Islecrest.¡±


    He pointed the stem of his pipe at M¨¹ller¡¯s legs. ¡°That sitting posture¡ªlegs together, heels under you¡ªno one but an Islecrester would sit like that.¡±


    He let out a booming, grating laugh. ¡°Far too uncomfortable for us mere mortals.¡±


    M¨¹ller stretched his legs, then rose to his feet, bending low to avoid the wagon¡¯s roof.


    The man¡¯s gaze followed him. ¡°Where are you off to?¡±


    ¡°Relieving myself,¡± M¨¹ller muttered, pulling the flap aside. ¡°I won¡¯t be long.¡±


    ¡°Why not wait?¡± the man suggested, taking a deep drag from his pipe. ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡±


    M¨¹ller froze, turning back. ¡°What?¡±


    The man blinked in mock surprise. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you?¡± He slapped his forehead, then slightly lowered his head. ¡°My apologies, it must¡¯ve slipped my mind.¡±


    M¨¹ller gave a dismissive wave, stepping outside the wagon. Grabbing the edge of the roof, he hauled himself up.


    He raised a hand to shield his eyes, squinting against the sun¡¯s glare.


    At first, all he saw was endless sand¡ªbut slowly, a city shimmered into view, rising like a mirage from the horizon. It glistened through the desert haze, dark and sharp against the sky.


    The man poked his head out beside M¨¹ller, pipe still clutched in his teeth. ¡°Never been here before, have you? Well then¡ªlet me be the first to welcome you to Deshan, the Obsidian Jewel of the East.¡±

 Chapter 6

    As the wagon rolled closer, the city sharpened into focus. A low wall encircled it, its smooth surface adorned with flowing script and delicate murals. Intricate carvings of swaying palms, flickering lanterns, and cresting waves greeted travelers, leaving an impression of calm beauty foreign to the unforgiving desert.


    The gate stood open, unguarded, framed by a delicate arch of pale stone. Beyond it, the road stretched inward, lined with tall palms whose fronds swayed lazily in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across the light-brown sand.


    However, the first thing anyone noticed was not the city itself but the tower¡ªa spire of obsidian-dark stone that loomed over everything. It stood like a beacon, drawing travelers across the desert to Deshan¡¯s gates.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze drifted ahead, where a line of wagons stretched before him¡ªsome belonging to merchants, others to travelers.


    A hum of activity rippled through the caravan now that Deshan was in sight. Cheers and excited chatter spread like wildfire, infecting everyone in its path.


    M¨¹ller ducked back into the wagon, his initial observations complete.


    The man tapped his pipe against the wooden frame, emptying the bowl. "I''d start gathering your things if I were you. It''ll get hectic once we arrive¡ªbetter to be ready."


    M¨¹ller grunted, grabbing a leather satchel and his sword from where they rested. "Not my first trip. I can handle it."


    "Alright, alright." The man raised both hands in mock surrender. "Message received."


    M¨¹ller finished his preparations before glancing over to see the man casually tucking his pipe into the folds of his robe.


    "No luggage?" M¨¹ller asked, settling on the edge of the wagon.


    The man chuckled softly. "Nothing to weigh me down. When you carry nothing, nothing can be taken¡ªthat¡¯s a lesson from a well-traveled old man."


    M¨¹ller watched as the man picked up a length of white cloth and deftly wrapped it around his head. In a few practiced motions, only his eyes remained uncovered.


    "Much better," the man muttered, tugging at the edges to perfect the fit. "I refuse to let this blasted sun cook me alive again."


    He glanced at M¨¹ller. "This might be the last we see each other¡ªwe might as well make it a memorable parting."


    M¨¹ller smiled faintly. Despite his endless pesterings, the man had been surprisingly good company during the journey, even though he''d only joined the caravan at the last stop¡ªa tiny desert village.


    "What brings you out here?" the man asked, jarring M¨¹ller from his thoughts.


    M¨¹ller took a moment before answering. "A woman. I''m supposed to meet her at an inn in the city."


    The man¡¯s grin spread wide. "A woman, eh? Hope your purse is heavy."


    M¨¹ller shook his head. "Not that kind of meeting. It¡¯s for a job." He exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting. "Probably my last."


    The man fell silent for a moment, then spoke. "Judging by that look on your face, I¡¯m not sure if I should pray for your success¡­ so I¡¯ll do something better." He leaned back, eyes drifting closed. "I¡¯ll pray it all works out in your favor."


    M¨¹ller smiled faintly. "Thank you. What is your name?"


    The man¡¯s eyes cracked open. "I never told you?"


    M¨¹ller shook his head.


    "Well then, I am Artyom of Velkaarn. Think of me as a wandering traveler." He paused, cocking his head to the side. "Or maybe a traveling wanderer?" He shrugged. "Ah, either way, you get the point."


    M¨¹ller ignored Artyom¡¯s rambling, his attention snagged on one word. "Velkaarn?" he repeated, trying to place the name.


    "A vassal city in Primeva," Artyom explained. "Not much to speak of, unless you fancy endless cold and ancient stone."


    M¨¹ller opened his mouth to reply, but the wagon lurched abruptly, cutting him off.


    Both men glanced down instinctively. They had entered the city. If the growing bustle outside hadn¡¯t been enough to clue them in, the sudden end to the wagon¡¯s rattling certainly was.


    Artyom stood and walked past M¨¹ller, pausing just long enough to pat his shoulder. "This is my stop. Let¡¯s share a drink if our paths cross again."


    With that, he hopped down, landing lightly on the ground outside. He glanced back with a nod, then slipped into the crowd, vanishing from sight.


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    The wagon rolled on, leaving that section of the city behind. M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze shifted to the multitude of finely adorned individuals moving along the street.


    Voices carried from all directions¡ªvendors hawking water jugs, dried dates, and tiny trinkets; stall owners bickering with customers over the most trivial items; workers darting past, bent under the weight of sacks and baskets.


    Low, squat buildings flanked the street, their walls sun-bleached to the color of bone. Mudbrick roofs slouched beneath layers of palm thatch, while narrow alleys twisted between the buildings, forming a tangled maze.


    M¨¹ller inhaled deeply, savoring the rich air, thick with the scent of spices, sunbaked stone, and faint traces of incense drifting from shaded courtyards on the breeze.


    The wagon wheels thudded softly as it veered down a narrow street, breaking away from the caravan.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s eyes narrowed. He hurried to the front of the wagon and banged on the wood. "Driver, where are you going?"


    A moment passed before a gruff voice answered, "I¡¯ve got important cargo to deliver¡ªI can¡¯t follow the caravan to the end just to turn around and come back."


    M¨¹ller gritted his teeth. "What about me? My belongings are with the caravan."


    "Not my problem," the driver said flatly. "You paid me to get you here¡ªthat''s all I agreed to. If you want them, head to Raha. That¡¯s where all caravans end up."


    "How do I get there?" M¨¹ller asked.


    "Ask anyone on the road¡ªit¡¯s a well-known place in Deshan. Aye, and be careful getting off. This cargo¡¯s worth more than your life."


    M¨¹ller didn¡¯t answer. He walked to the back of the wagon, retrieving his satchel and sword. Slinging the satchel over his shoulder, he slowly drew the blade.


    His gaze drifted from crate to basket, fingers curling tighter around his sword¡¯s hilt. He chose his target and struck, slicing a large basket clean in half. Smirking, he sheathed his blade, watching brown grains spill across the rough wooden floor.


    Before the driver could realize what had happened, M¨¹ller leaped from the moving wagon and strode briskly back toward the previous street.


    Raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun¡¯s glare, he stepped out from the narrow alley. For a moment, he stood still, gaze sweeping across the bustling street before turning and heading deeper into the city.


    He hadn¡¯t gone far before pausing. Sweat ran down his temples, and his throat felt like sandpaper.


    Reaching into his satchel, M¨¹ller pulled out his water pouch. He licked his cracked lips and lifted it to drink¡ªonly to find it empty.


    ¡°Damn,¡± M¨¹ller muttered, scowling at the dry pouch.


    His gaze drifted to a nearby stall, where a bearded old man rested beneath a faded canopy, gently fanning himself.


    He looks easygoing. I¡¯ll ask him where the nearest well is, M¨¹ller thought, and without hesitation, he stepped forward.


    The old man''s eyes flicked toward him, calm yet assessing, drifting to the sword at his side as he approached.


    Before M¨¹ller could even open his mouth, the man cut him off. ¡°Welcome, customer! I have a fine selection of luxury goods, specially designed for a traveler like yourself.¡± He lifted a folded white cloth. ¡°I see the sun has been unkind to you. This is a ghutra, perfect for easing the sun¡¯s bite. Simple to wear too¡ªfold it and secure it with this.¡± He held up a braided black band. ¡°An agal.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s not your liking, I have others, though I warn you¡ªthey¡¯ll cost a bit more.¡±


    M¨¹ller raised a hand, silencing the pitch. ¡°I only wanted to know where the nearest well is. I didn¡¯t ask for all this.¡±


    The old man¡¯s expression turned flat, and he clicked his tongue. ¡°Straight ahead,¡± he said, pointing further up the street. ¡°You¡¯ll see one before long.¡±


    He reached down to return the cloth, but M¨¹ller placed a hand over his. ¡°I didn¡¯t say I wouldn¡¯t buy. How much?¡±


    A toothy grin spread across the man¡¯s face, and he chuckled merrily. ¡°For you, a discount¡ªthree silver Pharos for the ghutra and the agal.¡±


    M¨¹ller¡¯s hand stilled inside his satchel. ¡°Three? That¡¯s steep. Won¡¯t one silver cover it?¡±


    ¡°No, no, no,¡± the man said, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s what I paid for the ghutra. I can¡¯t sell at a loss, can I?¡±


    M¨¹ller sighed and pulled out two silvers. ¡°I still need to pay for an inn tonight, so two¡¯s all I can spare. If you don¡¯t take it, I¡¯ll find someone who will.¡± He nodded up the street. ¡°I¡¯m sure another merchant is willing to make a sale.¡±


    ¡°Merchant? Me?¡± The old man let out a sharp laugh. ¡°Bah, I¡¯m no merchant.¡± Still, his smile widened. ¡°Since you¡¯re fine with my four poor grandchildren starving, I suppose two will have to do.¡±


    He plucked the silver from M¨¹ller¡¯s hand, then passed him the items. ¡°Need any more help? Maybe with the ghutra?¡±


    M¨¹ller shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll manage. But I do need directions to a place.¡±


    "Where do you need to go, traveler? I¡¯ve lived here my whole life, and I can say with certainty¡ªI know just about every nook and cranny in this old Deshan."


    M¨¹ller sighed in relief. "Good. There are two places I need to find. The first... Raha, I think it¡¯s called...?"


    The man leaned back, arms folding across his chest. "Raha? That¡¯s easy." He pointed up the road. "Just follow this street until it splits¡ªone path goes left, the other right. Take the right. Keep going until you reach a fountain. The road keeps on from there, but that¡¯s not your way. Look for a smaller street branching off to the left. Follow that to the end¡ªthat¡¯s where you¡¯ll find Raha. Got all that?"


    M¨¹ller mapped the route in his mind before nodding. "Yeah."


    "So, where¡¯s the second place?"


    M¨¹ller raised a finger, rummaging in his satchel before pulling out a worn piece of parchment. He squinted at the faded scribbles. "Damn, this is hard to read." He angled the parchment toward the light. "Ava... ata... aba?" His brow furrowed, then his expression cleared. "Abarran¡¯s Inn."


    The old man frowned. ¡°Abarran¡¯s Inn? Never heard of it.¡±


    M¨¹ller stuffed the parchment back into the satchel. ¡°Then how am I supposed to find it?¡±


    "Hmm..." The old man stroked his beard, gaze drifting in thought. "That doesn''t sound local¡ªprobably a foreigner¡¯s place. You could ask around, but if even I haven¡¯t heard of it, well... can¡¯t promise others will be much help."


    M¨¹ller groaned, half-turning away¡ªonly to freeze when the old man clapped his hands. ¡°Wait, wait! It¡¯s an inn, right?¡±


    M¨¹ller nodded.


    The old man¡¯s grin stretched wide. ¡°Well, there you go! Since you¡¯re heading to Raha anyway, stop by the inn district. It¡¯s not far from there, and if anyone knows where to find it, they will.¡±


    M¨¹ller smiled as he donned the ghutra, securing it with the agal. "Thanks, old man."


    ¡°Bah, get out of here,¡± the man huffed, waving him off. ¡°Anyone willing to let my three grandchildren starve has no place at my stall.¡±


    M¨¹ller paused, turning back with a raised brow. ¡°Three? I could¡¯ve sworn you said four.¡±


    The old man tapped his forehead, flashing a toothy smile. ¡°Did I say three? No, no¡ªtwo! Only two. Old age muddles the mind.¡±


    M¨¹ller chuckled, shaking his head as he melted into the crowd, leaving the old man to resume his fanning.

 Chapter 7

    Like a living wave, the crowd ebbed and flowed along the street, each step brisk with purpose as people hurried toward their destinations.


    Wagons rattled by in chaotic bursts, drivers shouting warnings to pedestrians who narrowly dodged their passing wheels.


    Yet, there was a rhythm to the madness¡ªa pattern that kept disaster at bay.


    M¨¹ller hadn¡¯t been to the East before, but scenes like this weren¡¯t new to him, and adapting came quickly.


    Before long, he moved like a local, swept along by the press of bodies. Still, his head remained on a swivel, scanning for the well the old man had mentioned. He heard it before he saw it.


    The soft splash of water carried through the air, guiding him further up the street.


    He waited for a wagon to pass before stepping out of the crowd and crossing quickly to the other side.


    The sound grew clearer with each step until he came upon a courtyard just off the street. A polished walkway led up to a stone well at its center. The courtyard was tastefully designed with stone benches placed in pairs, shaded by stalls draped in palm fronds.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze swept across the courtyard before he stepped inside.


    Old men dozed in the shade of the benches while the young gathered in a corner, exchanging news and gossip.


    Luckily, the well was unoccupied¡ªthe last person to use it passed by M¨¹ller, bucket in hand, as she left the courtyard.


    M¨¹ller stepped up the walkway to the well and grabbed the lever. A wooden bucket already hung from the hook, so he released the lever, letting the bucket descend into the well.


    He waited until the rope slackened, then turned the lever the other way, hauling the bucket back up.


    M¨¹ller unhooked the bucket and fell upon the water, gulping down mouthfuls.


    Once satisfied, he raised his head with a sigh, droplets rolling off his chin. Reaching into his satchel, he withdrew his water pouch and carefully refilled it with what remained.


    With some water still left, he cupped his hands, dipped them into the bucket, and splashed his face, washing away as much dust and sweat as possible. He repeated the motion until the bucket ran dry, then hung it back on the hook before leaving the courtyard.


    Now that his immediate water concerns were solved, M¨¹ller stood at the side of the street, thinking through his next steps.


    Should I head to Raha first? Secure it before going anywhere else? He shook his head, his gaze drifting left before he continued down the street. No, that won¡¯t work¡ªAbarran¡¯s Inn comes first.


    He pushed through a group stepping out of a building, ignoring their indignant cries. I¡¯ve already delayed enough. Who knows if she¡¯s even still there?


    M¨¹ller followed the old man''s instructions upon reaching the fork, turning down the right side and walking until he eventually reached the fountain. There, he searched until he spotted a path leading left. After a quick look around to confirm he was on the right track, he took it, blending into the flow of people and wagons heading down the street.


    It didn¡¯t take long for M¨¹ller to notice that traffic along this street was far heavier than the others. Wagons and carriages passed constantly, and the crowds of pedestrians were just as thick.


    Where¡¯s the inn district, anyway? M¨¹ller wondered, stopping at a stall to finger a trinket. The old man said it was close¡ªbut how close?


    The stallkeeper launched into his pitch as soon as he''d arrived, but M¨¹ller raised a hand to cut him off. "Where¡¯s the inn district?"


    The man blinked in confusion. "You¡¯re standing in it. Can¡¯t see any from here, but there¡¯s a few just a short walk away."


    That makes sense, M¨¹ller thought, dropping the trinket and turning away. With all the travelers and merchants passing through on their way to Raha, it¡¯s the only logical place for inns. Anything else would be pure folly.


    "So..." the man said, rubbing his hands together. "What do you think of my wares? Does anything here speak to you?"


    M¨¹ller glanced down and scoffed, a hand on his blade''s hilt as he pointed at a few items. "Cheap... fake..." His finger hovered over the last one. "Stolen."


    With each word, the man edged further back, his legs trembling.


    M¨¹ller turned to leave, his words biting as they trailed behind him. "Leave before the guards arrive."


    He walked away, and within moments, the encounter was already forgotten. As he continued down the street, M¨¹ller noticed a shift in the crowd. It was no longer just Easterners¡ªnow foreigners of all kinds walked the street.


    Stalls grew fewer, revealing the buildings behind them. Large inns stood in neat rows, their signs boldly hung and painted with names meant to catch the eyes of passing travelers.


    I should ask at one of the older inns, M¨¹ller thought, keeping his head on a swivel. They¡¯re more likely to know all the others.


    He studied each inn as he passed, but none felt right.


    Eventually, one caught his attention.


    At a glance, it was nothing special: a tidy courtyard bordered by carved wood, a squat building with a canopy and curtains draped over the entrance to fend off the sun. But first glances were often wrong.


    Architecture shifts with the passing cycles: the shape of windows, the type of stone, and the fortune carvings along the walls.


    Details like that can¡¯t be hidden.


    M¨¹ller had been in enough towns like this to know the difference between a new face and an old foundation. And this one had stood for cycles.


    He noted those details before stepping into the stone-paved courtyard. The air shifted at once, turning fragrant and fresh as the scents of desert flowers filled the space.


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    A pedestal stood at the courtyard¡¯s center, supporting a large, smooth stone basin. Beside it sat a plain jug on a low stool.


    M¨¹ller paused, eyeing the setup. What¡¯s this for?


    He stepped closer and peered into the basin. Water. His gaze flicked to the jug¡ªmore water.


    Water... what for? A ritual wash? A courtesy for guests? M¨¹ller frowned, then sighed and let it go. Standing around in the sun won''t solve anything; it''s better to head inside.


    He climbed the short flight of steps, brushed aside the thickly woven entrance curtain, and disappeared into the building.


    The street''s clamor fell away, and cool air enveloped him as he stepped inside, soothing his sun-scorched skin. M¨¹ller nearly moaned with relief. He tugged off his ghutra and threw his head back, sweat beading and sliding down his face.


    ¡°Did the guest miss the drawn curtain?¡± a voice asked, low and clipped.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s head snapped forward.


    A low counter stood ahead, and behind it lounged a young girl, a wooden ledger open before her, the end of a reed pen resting between her teeth.


    She glanced up, eyes locking onto him.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze drifted across the room¡ªwhitewashed walls, a domed ceiling, a shelf lining the right wall, and a wide archway behind the counter¡ªbefore settling back on the girl. "What do you mean, lass?"


    Her eyes narrowed as she scanned him from head to toe, a flicker of disdain crossing her face. With a sigh, she drummed her fingers on the counter. "Tunic, hose¡ªa traveler. Of course."


    M¨¹ller returned the favor, his gaze sweeping over her. She wore a linen robe dyed pale sand, its hem brushing her ankles. Along her sleeves ran a wave-like embroidery, nothing too elaborate, but enough to suggest modest prestige.


    A deep indigo sash cinched her waist, while a matching scarf, pinned neatly at the nape of her neck, covered her hair and framed her face. A few dark curls had escaped, clinging to her sweat-dampened temples. From her belt hung a leather cord, its keys jingling softly whenever she shifted.


    His eyes flicked back to hers. "Hmm... interesting service."


    The girl straightened her back and offered M¨¹ller a polite smile¡ªneither familiar nor distant, the careful balance of someone trained to handle guests.


    "I''m sorry, dear guest. I would have welcomed you properly, but I can see from the dust on your face and the dirt on your hands that you didn¡¯t wash at the basin outside. Perhaps you weren¡¯t aware, but it¡¯s a basic courtesy around here."


    She gestured toward the entrance with a tilt of her chin before turning back to her tablet. "And in any case, the drawn curtains mean we¡¯re fully occupied. We aren¡¯t taking any more guests."


    "There¡¯s no issue, then." M¨¹ller stepped to the counter, resting an elbow on it. "I¡¯m not here for a room¡ªI need information."


    Her eyes flicked up, scanning him cautiously. "Information?"


    M¨¹ller leaned in just a touch. "The location of a particular inn."


    Her gaze drifted, focus sliding inward. Then, a smile curled at the corner of her mouth. "You look half-dead from the heat. Let me fetch you something to eat and drink."


    M¨¹ller blinked, straightening. "That¡¯s not necessary¡ª"


    "No, no, I insist." She was already turning away.


    Without waiting for his reply, the girl disappeared through the archway, stepping into the inn¡¯s inner courtyard. From where M¨¹ller stood, he could hear low murmurs and bursts of laughter drifting through the opening. Curious, he shifted to the side and glanced in. Guests lounged at low tables beneath fluttering awnings, the air alive with the murmur of gossip, idle conversation, and the occasional clink and clatter of cups and cutlery. The smell of hot, steaming bread and roasting meat drifted from within, stirring a hungry rumble in M¨¹ller¡¯s stomach.


    As if summoned by the growl, the girl appeared in the archway, a tray balanced in her hands. One after the other, she placed bowls and a porcelain cup on the counter.


    M¨¹ller eyed the spread warily. "What¡¯s this?"


    Without pause, the girl pointed to each dish in turn. "Lamb stew, hard bread, pickled vegetables, spiced roast meat¡ªand finally, baklava, a honeyed sweet."


    M¨¹ller pushed away from the counter. "What¡¯s this going to cost me? Fifteen silver? I don¡¯t have that kind of coin!"


    "Nineteen, actually," the girl said, her voice quite cheerful. Her eyes flicked to his satchel. "Your clothes might be worn and common, but that satchel¡ªthat¡¯s something else. Excellent quality. If you¡¯re short on silver, you could pay with that."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s pupils sharpened, his gaze drilling into hers. "I could just walk out."


    "Then walk." Her smile only widened. "As I already mentioned, we don''t have any available rooms."


    Their eyes locked¡ªa silent duel played out between them.


    The girl lifted her chin, hands folded neatly in front of her waist.


    M¨¹ller exhaled deeply and swore, stepping back to the counter. "The information¡ªafter I eat?"


    She nodded, a smirk widening her face as she picked up the tray.


    M¨¹ller grabbed the bowl of stew, inhaling deeply, eyes momentarily shutting in appreciation of its rich aroma.


    A bell suddenly rang. The girl turned toward the archway. "A guest." Without hesitation, she strode away, her steps brisk yet controlled.


    "Wait!" M¨¹ller called. He glanced around, then back at her. "Where can I sit?"


    "Sit?" She turned, a saccharine smile gracing her lips. "That privilege is reserved for guests of this establishment. And since you are not one of them, you get no seat." She nodded toward the counter. "Eat there. Or, if you''d prefer, the dusty ground is always an option."


    M¨¹ller''s eyes narrowed, but she only tapped her chin in mock contemplation.


    "Oh, right¡ªsomething to quench your thirst." Her eyes glinted with satisfaction. "I¡¯ll bring you something. Though that will bring your total to twenty silver."


    With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared through the archway, a smug smile lingering.


    M¨¹ller watched her go, staring daggers into her back. He sighed and looked down at the food.


    "No utensils," he muttered, shrugging off his satchel and placing it on the counter. "That wench''s attitude was amusing at first. Now it''s just getting on my nerves."


    He got to work on the meal, and before long, only the lamb stew remained¡ªhalf-full.


    The girl reappeared as he raised the bowl to his lips, gulping down the broth in steady mouthfuls. Without a word, she set down a platter of dates and slammed a wooden flagon onto the counter.


    M¨¹ller exhaled a steaming breath, licking the last traces of broth from his lips. He placed the bowl down, then turned to her.


    "I''m finished. Now, hold up your end."


    She tapped the rim of the porcelain cup. "Won''t you drink first, dear customer? Or maybe try the dates? Those aren¡¯t cheap, you know. I would charge you, but unfortunately, they¡¯re complimentary."


    M¨¹ller clicked his tongue, grabbed the tankard, and poured a generous serving into the cup. He didn¡¯t bother checking what it was before raising it to his lips and taking a deep gulp.


    His eyes widened. Lowering the cup, he stared into the light green liquid.


    "Good, isn¡¯t it?" The girl leaned forward, watching him closely. "I brewed it myself."


    M¨¹ller took another deep drink. "What is it?"


    She smiled. "If we gave away our recipes to every dusty, road-worn traveler, we''d be out of business, wouldn¡¯t we?"


    M¨¹ller raised the cup in a small salute. "Fair point."


    The girl¡¯s gaze flicked to the dates. "Are you going to eat them?"


    M¨¹ller shook his head, setting the cup down and pushing it aside. "No, I¡¯m full." He met her eyes. "Satisfied now?"


    "No," she said, holding out her hand. "Pay up." Her eyes dropped to his satchel. "Unless you can''t..." She reached for it.


    M¨¹ller placed a firm hand on the satchel, locking eyes with her as he pulled it toward himself. "No... I''ll pay."


    He undid the latches, flipped the flap open, and rummaged briefly before withdrawing a pouch wider than his hand.


    Loosening the string, he pulled out a single gold coin.


    The girl''s expression tightened, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. "You can pay."


    "Yes, I can," M¨¹ller said, stepping around the counter.


    She swallowed and backed away. "I''ll... I''ll get your change," she said, her voice barely above a squeak.


    M¨¹ller paused before her, his gaze sharpening as he studied her face. "Are you all right?" he asked, noting the sudden pallor of her skin and the tremor in her eyes.


    "I''m fine," she muttered, though her fingers trembled. "Can you step back behind the counter? You''re neither a guest nor a worker, so you can''t be back here."


    M¨¹ller extended a hand. "You don''t seem fine, lass. What''s wrong?"


    SHRIEK!


    M¨¹ller yanked his hand back as if burned, staring in astonishment.


    The girl¡ªSanna¡ªwas huddled on the ground, her entire body quaking.


    He took a cautious step forward, arms slightly raised. "Hey¡ª"


    Another scream tore from her throat.


    M¨¹ller froze, hands clenching. Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor, and a woman burst through the doorway. Her face was flushed, her sharp eyes scanning the scene before she rushed to Sanna¡¯s side, cradling her face.


    "Sanna, what''s wrong? Are you all right?"


    Sanna gave a violent shudder¡ªthen, just as suddenly, she went deathly still.


    The woman pressed two fingers to her wrist, eyes closing. A moment passed. Then, a relieved sigh.


    Suddenly, her head snapped up, and her gaze locked onto M¨¹ller, boring a hole into him.


    "You!"


    M¨¹ller exhaled sharply and pinched his brows. This could be trouble.

 Chapter 8

    The air was cool and refreshing, carrying the scent of fragrant spices and the woody tang of a slow-burning incense.


    M¨¹ller inhaled deeply, eyes shut, letting the rich aromas settle his nerves. As he exhaled, some of the stress and exhaustion weighing on him were released.


    He lounged on a carpet in the inner courtyard, propped up by several cushions.


    Opening his eyes, he took in his surroundings.


    The courtyard lay at the heart of the building, an open space paved with stone and adorned with palm trees, shrubs, and low bushes. A low fountain burbled at its center, providing a soothing ambiance. Carpets, low tables, and cushions dotted the ground, occupied by the inn¡¯s guests. A polished wooden railing enclosed the space, with stairways at the four cardinal points leading to a sectioned walkway above, where curtained archways stood at intervals.


    Groups of men gathered throughout the courtyard¡ªsome seated around tables, others reclining on the carpets.


    The conversation was hushed, but M¨¹ller couldn''t miss the frequent glances in his direction. Some were merely curious, others openly hostile.


    M¨¹ller sighed and leaned back into the cushion. It seems they don''t like foreigners.


    As he observed the scene, the woman emerged from one of the curtained doorways. Her gaze swept the courtyard before landing on him¡ªalone, set apart from the other guests.


    With her eyes locked on his and her hand trailing along the railing, the woman moved toward one of the four stairways leading down to the courtyard. Dark strokes framed her eyes, smudged just enough to soften the edges while deepening their intensity.


    She wore a white silk robe and was draped with a light cloak embroidered with accents of gold thread, billowing softly as she approached. Like her robe, her headscarf was a silky milk-white, adorned with delicate gold embroidery.


    As she stepped from the building¡¯s shadow into the sun, her jewelry caught the light¡ªgold glinting from her wrists, fingers, and ears, casting shimmering reflections around her.


    Grace and distinction in her every move, the woman crossed the courtyard toward him, her slippers barely making a sound across the stone paving.


    The murmurs ceased at once, replaced by silent, watchful eyes.


    M¨¹ller held her gaze until she lowered herself onto a cushion beside him.


    Slowly, conversation and banter resumed as the men lost interest.


    With unreadable faces, M¨¹ller and the woman studied each other, silent and calculating.


    What should I say? M¨¹ller considered, his mind racing. I already explained what happened, but she might not believe me.


    His fingers twitched, his gaze drifting to his satchel. Well, if worst comes to worst, I''ll settle her. I''m sure she won''t say no to a pouch of coins.


    With his mind made up, M¨¹ller opened his mouth to speak¡ªbut before he could utter a word, the woman bowed her head.


    "I''d like to apologize for my earlier reaction. After your explanation and hearing from Sanna, I realized I was wrong."


    "The lass has recovered from her faint?" M¨¹ller asked.


    The woman nodded. "Though she hasn''t fully gathered her wits, she''s feeling much better."


    "That''s good."


    Silence briefly settled between them again until the woman gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Forgive me¡ªI didn''t introduce myself."


    She folded her hands in her lap and gave a slight bow. "Tiraz of Deshan, owner and proprietress of this humble establishment, The Fountain in Paradise, commonly known as Salsabil."


    M¨¹ller raised a hand in greeting. "M¨¹ller of Blackwood."


    Tiraz arched an elegant eyebrow. "That''s all?"


    "That''s all," M¨¹ller echoed firmly, cutting off that line of inquiry. He turned away from the woman, letting his gaze sweep across the courtyard.


    Whenever his eyes met a guest¡¯s, the man would sneer before abruptly turning away.


    "Tough crowd," M¨¹ller commented.


    "Most purebred locals are like that," Tiraz replied, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "They don¡¯t take kindly to outsiders¡ªsomething about foreigners having a certain... smell."


    M¨¹ller reclined into the cushions, shifting until he found a comfortable position. "Is that why that girl seemed to despise me the instant she saw me? Because of a... smell?"


    Tiraz chuckled, the sound light and melodic. "Take from it what you will. But you get the message. Just know that most elders and those from prestigious backgrounds won¡¯t have much goodwill toward you¡ªespecially if you drift toward the city''s center."


    Tiraz leaned in until only a breath separated them. "That is, unless you have some deep..." Her finger traced a slow path down his chest. "Unfathomable background."


    M¨¹ller watched as Tiraz¡¯s finger neared his lower abdomen before catching her hand and pressing it firmly to the carpet¡ªall the while holding her gaze. "Hmm... thanks for the tip. I''ll keep that in mind, in case I run into one of those... unfathomable figures."


    Tiraz chuckled before standing and dusting off her garments. "Indeed. Anyway, let''s go."


    "Go?" M¨¹ller questioned, brows furrowing. "Go where?"


    "Sanna promised to direct you, didn''t she? I can''t very well tarnish this inn¡¯s good name by allowing a promise to go unfulfilled, can I?"


    M¨¹ller rose to his feet. "That would be true¡ªbut that was only after I paid her for the meal. And since she fainted, I never gave it to her."


    At his words, a smile blossomed on Tiraz''s face. She extended a fist before slowly opening it, revealing a gleaming gold coin.


    M¨¹ller''s gaze snapped to it. Did she take it? His eyes darted from the coin to her face, narrowing with each glance. He grabbed his satchel and rummaged through it.


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    "When did you take it, wench?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice. "I''m sure I kept it in my satchel."


    Tiraz lifted a hand, failing to hide a mischievous smile. "Who knows?" she replied coyly.


    Tiraz giggled softly and circled him, trailing the coin along his shoulders. "You know what? You can keep the gold."


    She placed the coin in his palm and gently curled his fingers around it. "To make it easier for you to accept, think of it as one of my good deeds for the cycle."


    Never one to turn down a free coin, M¨¹ller slipped it back into his pouch.


    "Alright, I''ll accept your help."


    Tiraz smiled, giving a light clap. "Wonderful. So, where are you headed?"


    "Abarran¡¯s Inn," he said.


    Tiraz echoed the name, her eyes drifting closed in thought. "Hmm¡­ it¡¯s been long since I last heard that name."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s heart quickened. "So you know it?"


    She opened her eyes and nodded slowly. "You''re lucky you asked here. It¡¯s not commonly known among locals and can be difficult to find."


    Then I hope your directions are clear," M¨¹ller said, slinging his satchel over his shoulder and checking that his scabbard sat securely on his belt.


    "I¡¯ll do you one better." Tiraz pivoted on her heel and strode away, each step carrying a deliberate, seductive sway, once more drawing eyes from around the courtyard. "Follow me¡ªI¡¯ll take you there."


    M¨¹ller fell in beside her as she climbed the steps onto the walkway. "Are you sure? What about your guests¡ªor even Sanna? I don''t know about you, but I don¡¯t think she should be left alone."


    Tiraz turned to face him. "I never said it was just Sanna and me running this inn, did I? I have a few female slaves working in the kitchen. I trust I''ve trained them well enough to handle most problems that might arise."


    She passed several curtained chambers along the walkway before stopping at a thickly veiled archway. Turning, she gestured for M¨¹ller to step forward. "Wait for me in the outer courtyard. I wouldn''t think you''ve already forgotten, but it''s just past the next opening."


    Tiraz inclined her head slightly at M¨¹ller before parting the curtains and stepping through the archway.


    He paused, inhaling deeply, savoring the warmth of the aroma before turning away. I didn¡¯t realize until now how much I missed good, hot food. The caravan had only offered stale, flavorless meals. And before that...


    M¨¹ller descended the steps into the outer courtyard, stepping straight into the sunlight. The sounds of the street immediately filled his ears¡ªwagon wheels rattling by, the steady rhythm of passing footsteps, and the clamor of drunken men stumbling out of the surrounding inns.


    Was I that deep in thought? I don¡¯t even remember passing the counter. He sighed, lifting a hand to shield his eyes. He remained that way for a few long, drawn-out moments before the soft shuffle of leather sandals reached his ears.


    "Are you ready?"


    M¨¹ller turned to find Tiraz standing behind him, a slight smile on her lips. "Lead the way."


    Tiraz stepped past him without a word, each movement effortlessly elegant. She paused at a stone basin, rolled up her sleeves, and washed her hands before retrieving a cotton handkerchief from her sash to dry them.


    Tiraz glanced at him before continuing to the exit and stepping out into the bustling street. "Okay, let''s go," she said, her eyes shifting around before she turned up the street.


    M¨¹ller glanced down the street before following after her¡ªRaha lay in the opposite direction, but reaching the caravan park was of lower priority for now.


    They moved against the flow of the crowd, putting more distance between themselves and Raha as they retraced the path M¨¹ller had taken earlier.


    As he walked, M¨¹ller scanned his surroundings. However, he slowed when he passed a particular stall, his gaze lingering on it.


    I guess he heeded my advice and left in a hurry, M¨¹ller thought, eyeing the now bare stall.


    Realizing Tiraz was slipping into the crowd ahead, he picked up his pace.


    Before long, they emerged from the street, standing before the splurting fountain.


    Tiraz fell silent, watching the water arc into the air before cascading down in shimmering streams.


    "Do you know why all fountains have blue or green tile accents?" she asked, her gaze fixed ahead.


    M¨¹ller glanced at her from the corner of his eye before looking forward again. "No. Is there a special reason?"


    Tiraz nodded. "Yes. They symbolize water and life¡ªboth essential for mortals, yet scarce in the harsh, arid East."


    "Blue for water, green for grass," M¨¹ller murmured. He grew quiet, turning her words over in his mind before shifting his gaze to her, eyes narrowing. "Why are you telling me this?"


    Tiraz sighed, shaking her head. "Sanna is just a child, but hardship has stripped her of innocence and faith in mortal decency." She clasped her hands together, lowering them in front of her body. "I implore you¡ªfind it in your heart to forgive her and not hold her transgressions against her."


    M¨¹ller exhaled sharply, scratching the back of his head. "Is that why you gave back the coin and are personally guiding me? To make sure I forgive her?" He huffed. "You needn''t have gone to such lengths. If I held a grudge against every person who slighted me, every barber-surgeon, bard, merchant, beggar, and gravedigger from here to Primeva would have lost their heads."


    Tiraz chuckled, stepping forward with M¨¹ller close behind. "Quite a varied crowd. What could they possibly have done to you?"


    M¨¹ller''s face darkened. "They all tried to rob me¡ªsome more directly than others."


    She glanced down the street just as a carriage came barreling toward them. Without hesitation, she hurried across, weaving past pedestrians and reaching the fountain before slipping onto the other side. Moments later, the carriage rumbled past, leaving M¨¹ller stranded. She stopped and beckoned him forward.


    M¨¹ller exhaled sharply before stepping into the street, zig-zagging between the animal-drawn carts and carriages. Once he cleared the road, Tiraz turned and pressed onward without another word.


    As they ventured deeper into the city, M¨¹ller found his gaze drawn to Tiraz, his focus narrowing until she commanded his full attention.


    So when he finally tore his gaze away, it caught him off guard to find they had entered an entirely different part of the city¡ªwhere the streets were narrow, and dirt and rubbish lay in forgotten heaps, gathered at shadowed corners.


    The air hung thick with the scent of sweat and defeat, laced with the faint acrid tang of waste trickling through shallow stone gutters.


    Most buildings stood only a single story high, their flat roofs cluttered with drying laundry, stacks of firewood, or the occasional sleeping figure avoiding the stifling heat below. Here and there, some homes had been haphazardly expanded, with rickety wooden platforms jutting out overhead, casting patches of flickering shade upon the dirt-packed streets below.


    The walls, made of mud brick¡ªsome whitewashed¡ªhad uneven surfaces occasionally interrupted by shutterless windows, revealing entire families crammed into single rooms.


    M¨¹ller ran his hand along the cracked, sunbaked wall of one building, barely noticing as it blended into the next.


    What a dump," M¨¹ller muttered, rubbing his fingers together to shake off the dirt from the wall. He glanced around, nose wrinkling. "Almost as bad as Benedict in the late stages of the siege.


    Tiraz sidestepped a group of children rushing past. "Foul, isn''t it?" she remarked, glancing back at him. "A stretch of land on the outer edges of Deshan pressed up against the wall. A place where broken foreigners and disavowed locals breed and coexist¡ªa cesspool of rot and shattered dreams, with no hope of escape for those unfortunate enough to be born into it."


    M¨¹ller ducked beneath a clothesline. "Home to many, hell to most."


    Suddenly, he stopped, eyes narrowing as he slowly scanned his surroundings¡ªfrom the rooftops to the windows, his gaze sweeping the shadowed corners.


    A hand settled on his shoulder. He turned to find Tiraz watching him.


    "You have good sense," she murmured, glancing at the sword at his side. "That will serve you well here. But I do have some advice. First, change those garments¡ªtunics and hose are unheard of in the East and will only make you stand out. Second, lose the satchel. Even if you dress like a commoner, that single piece shatters the illusion of poverty at a glance. And lastly, never use a gold coin unless you''re at an upscale establishment. The moment you do, you mark yourself."


    She crossed her arms. "Replace the satchel with a small pouch¡ªbronze and silver should make up most of it. Keep a few gold Pharos'' at the bottom, but only for emergencies. That''s about it, the rest depends on you."


    Tiraz turned, her gaze settling on a narrow set of steps along the side of a building. "Abarran¡¯s Inn¡ªdown there, through the door."


    M¨¹ller narrowed his eyes before stepping forward. "I appreciate the help."


    As he passed, Tiraz reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned, meeting her gaze. She offered a small smile. "You''ll always be welcome at The Fountain in Paradise. I hope we meet again."


    "As do I," M¨¹ller replied, matching her smile.


    Without another word, he descended the steps, vanishing into the shadows below.


    Tiraz lingered until his form disappeared completely, then turned away. "I hope you make it out," she murmured.


    With that, she slipped around a bend, her steps swift as she left Abarran¡¯s Inn behind.

 Chapter 9

    The steps descended one or two stories below ground, growing narrower and steeper the farther he went. At the bottom stood a rough wooden door set in solid stone. Above it, thick beams and planks braced the ceiling.


    M¨¹ller paused on the landing, placing a hand against the stone wall, his frown deepening. I wouldn¡¯t have expected to see this here. I was under the impression that stone was expensive in the desert. Was I wrong?


    As he scanned his surroundings, something caught his eye, drawing a frown. He crouched, narrowing his gaze on a faint yet vivid splatter of red along the lower reaches of the door, streaking onto the stone beside it.


    Old, yet not so far gone that dirt had fully claimed it.


    M¨¹ller exhaled, straightening. He placed a hand on the door and pushed lightly. It swung open with ease, flooding the steps with light.


    Laughter and conversation spilled out, only to die once M¨¹ller stepped inside.


    He strode in with an easy posture, but his gaze flicked across the room, sharp and watchful.


    A high-ceilinged, stone-walled room opened before M¨¹ller. Lanterns hung at intervals, casting a flickering glow over rows of mostly occupied tables and chairs.


    At the far end, a long counter stretched beneath hanging shelves, laden with barrels and wooden tankards.


    Rough, coarse-looking men filled the room, lounging in chairs or crowding the bar, their gazes fixed on him.


    For a moment, silence hung heavy, both parties watching and appraising the other. Then, a cheery voice rang out, cutting through the tension.


    "M¨¹ller, you''re here?"


    M¨¹ller turned toward the voice, his eyes narrowing before easing. A cloaked woman sat at the far end of the bar, her red hair aflame in the candlelight. "Romanova."


    A grin spread across her face. "Barkeep, mead for my friend! And a round for the house¡ªit''s a celebration!"


    A cheer erupted, the patrons stomping their feet and clanking their tankards together.


    The barkeeper, a gruff-looking man with a scar running down one eye, nodded in understanding before turning to the shelf and hefting down a barrel.


    As the bar settled and interest in him faded, Romanova met M¨¹ller''s gaze and tipped her head toward an empty table near the bar.


    They started toward the table at once, M¨¹ller arriving a step behind her.


    He pulled back a chair and sat across from her.


    Romanova folded her hands beneath her chin, her brown eyes twinkling. "I hope the journey treated you well, M¨¹ller. I trust the tavern wasn¡¯t too difficult to find?"


    M¨¹ller grunted and leaned forward. "Why here?" His gaze swept the room, the corners of his eyes creasing. "Without a few lucky encounters, I might not have made it to this... inn? Tavern?"


    Romanova shook her head, her hair bouncing with the motion. "Luck had nothing to do with it. Didn¡¯t I tell you when we first met? It¡¯s fate. After all our meetings and run-ins, I¡¯d have thought you¡¯d learned that by now."


    M¨¹ller fell silent as a young server approached¡ªa boy with shifty eyes drowning in a filthy robe far too short for him. He dropped two tankards onto the table with a loud bang, liquid sloshing over the rims.


    Romanova clicked her tongue and grabbed his arm, freezing him in place with a scalding look. "Aaron, didn''t I warn you to be careful while serving me?"


    The boy nodded quickly, the memory of previous punishments flashing in his eyes. "Yes, Miss Romanova, you certainly have."


    Her grip tightened. A strangled yelp slipped from his throat. "I won¡¯t remind you again."


    She released him. Aaron clutched his arm and scurried away, shivering.


    Romanova watched him retreat, then turned back to M¨¹ller, her expression once more light and carefree. "Sorry about that. You can¡¯t let the plebeians grow too bold, you know? Best to keep them in their place."


    M¨¹ller ignored her question. "Miss, not Knight? Keeping it a secret?"


    Romanova raised the tankard to her lips, taking a deep gulp. She wiped her mouth, then set the drink down with a satisfied exhale. "Aren''t you?" Her gaze flicked over him. "Your clothes are plain¡ªfar too plain for someone of your standing."


    M¨¹ller shrugged and took a sip. "Has its benefits. But it also attracts attention. Attention I''d rather avoid right now."


    Romanova nodded. "Same here. Right now, I''d rather go unnoticed. I have no interest in paying my respects to the local Lord."


    Silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional clink of their tankards.


    Romanova drained the last of her drink and set the empty mug down with a bang. M¨¹ller watched over the rim of his own. "Finished?" he asked.


    "Yeah," she replied, her eyes half-lidded. She slapped her cheeks, exhaling sharply before fixing her gaze on him. Her tone turned serious. "Honestly, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d accept my offer. You didn¡¯t seem too keen when we last met."


    "Things change," M¨¹ller said, his gaze slipping past her, lost in thought. He scanned the boisterous room, watching the inhabitants drink their fruity, tangy mead¡ªseeing everything, yet absorbing nothing.


    "Things or people?" Romanova leaned in, resting her elbows on the table.


    "Things," M¨¹ller said after a moment''s pause, his tone firm. "Things that drove me as far from the fighting and carnage as possible."


    His gaze locked onto hers, questioning. "Isn''t that what you promised? An easy job, far from mortals?"


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    Romanova grabbed her tankard, her expression souring as she felt its weight. With a sigh, she placed it back down. "Yes... I promised that, didn''t I? Well, I''m a Knight of my word. But before I decide, tell me¡ªwhat exactly do you want from this?"


    M¨¹ller''s eyes darkened, old memories surfacing. "I''ve seen the best and worst of mortals. Now, I want to see the in-between¡ªthe lower highs, the higher lows. What I want is simple: to understand what I lack, the perspectives I¡¯m missing or overlooking."


    Romanova lowered her head, considering. "I''m not sure you''ll find what you''re looking for where we''re going, but..." Her head shot up as she stretched out her hand. "You''re hired. Welcome aboard."


    M¨¹ller set his tankard down, clasped her outstretched hand, and shook it firmly. "Glad to hear it. So, when do we leave?"


    Romanova leaned in, glancing suspiciously around the tavern. "Not now, and probably not soon. I still have a lot to do¡ªsupplies to purchase and contracts to settle¡ªbefore we head further eastward."


    She closed her eyes and sighed.


    "Honestly, I was about to leave before you showed up. Had you arrived any later, you wouldn¡¯t have seen me¡ªand I probably wouldn¡¯t have returned until just before leaving Deshan. Another example of fate¡¯s hand at work."


    Romanova suddenly stood and hollered at the barkeeper, drawing his attention. "Three more for my friend here. Put it on my tab."


    The man nodded before turning back to his other customers.


    M¨¹ller clicked his tongue and grabbed Romanova¡¯s arm. ¡°I don¡¯t want it.¡±


    Romanova¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Well, you need it. Don¡¯t worry¡ªI¡¯m not expecting thanks.¡±


    She yanked her arm free and turned away, her voice low yet cutting through the tavern¡¯s bustle. ¡°I¡¯m leaving now.¡± She cast a glance back at him. ¡°Don¡¯t contact me. I¡¯ll find you¡ªwhen we¡¯re ready to leave or I require your help.¡±


    With that, Romanova raised the hood of her cloak and strode off, weaving through the tavern¡¯s occupants before slipping out the door.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s eyes followed the door as it swung shut. He groaned, throwing his head back once it slammed closed. Is this the right choice? I don¡¯t know her, don¡¯t understand her. Should I follow her? I can still turn back.


    He exhaled and lifted his head. Who knows? The path is only ever clear in hindsight.


    CLANK.


    A tankard landed on the table¡ªthen another and another.


    Aaron, the waiter, hurried away without meeting M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze.


    M¨¹ller watched him go before picking up one of the drinks and sipping. His eyes drifted over the tavern as he drank, quietly listening to the fragments of conversation that reached him.


    "Why is everything so expensive in Deshan?" a voice slurred.


    "You''ve been here for three cycles and still whining? I figured you''d have gotten used to it by now," his companion replied.


    "I''ll get over it when this city stops robbing me blind," the first man barked.


    Another conversation drifted to M¨¹ller.


    "There¡¯s a limit to ignorance. If you stab yourself in the foot once, you should at least avoid doing it again. And yet, somehow, you¡¯ve managed to hurt it a third!"


    "Oh, shut up, Brad. Your blabbering is making my foot throb worse."


    Losing interest, M¨¹ller tuned them out, his focus drifting¡ªuntil a particular conversation caught his ear. Everything else faded into the background.


    "You''ve never been to Deshan before, have you?"


    "Yeah, never before."


    "As an outsider, what do you think of our grand city?"


    A pause. The man seemed to gather his thoughts.


    "It lives up to its name¡ªthe Obsidian Jewel of the East."


    "You didn''t answer my question."


    A sigh rang out. "Aside from the obvious, the most noticeable feature is the number of wells. And the way water is flaunted? As if there is no fear of scarcity."


    "That¡¯s because it doesn¡¯t¡ªat least, not here."


    "Really?" The man sounded intrigued. "Why¡¯s that?"


    A chuckle carried to M¨¹ller. "The first settlers were clever. They built the city around an oasis."


    "That alone wouldn¡¯t be enough. With constant use, wouldn¡¯t it eventually dry up?"


    "Oh, it¡¯s no ordinary oasis. It¡¯s a vast body of water, large enough to swallow hundreds of ships. Clean and clear, its surface shimmers like silver beneath the punishing sky."


    "Hmm. With all that water, you¡¯d think food prices would be lower."


    A man scoffed. "Water and food are two entirely different matters here. We have an abundance of one but almost no means to produce the other. Nearly everything is imported, and with the conflict between Drifteland and Cliffend, prices this cycle have been through the roof. And since food costs more, everything else followed suit¡ªmerchants blaming it on ¡®higher manpower costs¡¯ and whatever other excuses they can spin."


    A sudden silence fell over the table before the outsider spoke, his tone edged with surprise. "Wait¡­ you haven''t heard?"


    "Heard what?"


    "It¡¯s over. The war between Drifteland and Cliffend has ended."


    A stunned pause followed before the man burst out, "Really? Are you certain? How do you know?"


    "I was in Raha just before coming here. The latest caravan brought the news¡ªDrifteland surrendered and withdrew."


    "Doesn''t that mean prices will stabilize?"


    "You¡¯d think so, but you know how merchants are. They''ll find any excuse to delay the inevitable."


    "Still, you should leave here once in a while. A war might break out, and you wouldn¡¯t even know."


    "No one else here seems to know, right? That means the news hasn¡¯t traveled far yet. Leaving wouldn¡¯t have made a difference."


    Another silence.


    "True¡­ since no one here knows, we can turn this into a profit. There are bound to be a few dunces willing to bet on the losing side."


    A low chuckle. "I see¡­ bet on Drifteland?"


    "Exactly. If anyone chooses them, we withdraw immediately. Let''s see how many fools we can swindle."


    The conversation continued, but M¨¹ller was no longer listening.


    So the news followed the caravan, huh? No surprise there. Still, I would have liked to ignore it a little longer.


    He reached for a tankard, only to find them all empty.


    They''d called it a war, but such a word was too simple¡ªtoo clean. For those trapped in Benedict during the siege, such a word couldn''t be used. It was something far worse.


    No, it was a war¡ªjust not a conventional one. It was a cruel contest between arrows and hunger, a brutal question of which would claim you first.


    Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, eyes slowly closing as memories surged forth.


    "HEADS DOWN! ANOTHER WAVE IS COMING!"


    M¨¹ller pressed a hand against the rough, grainy wall and slowly forced himself to his feet. Carefully, he peeked over the top, a warning whispering at the back of his mind¡ªone well-placed arrow could end him instantly.


    Below, an army stretched across the land, hundreds upon thousands roaring war cries as they surged toward the walls.


    At their back, leagues of archer could be seen, their bows drawn taut, their arrows ready.


    M¨¹ller, breath ragged and mouth dry, dropped and pressed his body against a stone wall before raising his shield and huddling beneath it.


    Not a moment too soon¡ªan instant later, the storm arrived, arrows raining down from above.


    Cries and shouts rang out from those too slow or simply unlucky.


    M¨¹ller gritted his teeth, his arm screaming in protest with the effort to keep his shield raised.


    Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure sprinting down the ramparts¡ªa slight, young boy who seemed vaguely familiar.


    His gaze locked onto the boy as he weaved through the rain of arrows, his head jerking left and right, miraculously always a step ahead¡ªor just behind¡ªbeing impaled.


    But M¨¹ller knew luck never lasted long in war.


    Normally, he wouldn¡¯t have interfered. He would have left the lad to his fate, his policy of self-preservation keeping him in check. Yet, before he could think twice, his hand shot out. He seized the boy¡¯s wrist and yanked him down¡ªjust as an arrow sliced through the space where his head had been.


    He held the boy''s head against his chest, holding the shield. With a sharp thunk, the final arrow struck, burying itself halfway through the wood¡ªmere hairs from his eye.


    Sighing, he cast the ruined shield aside and turned to the boy.


    "What were you doing?" M¨¹ller barked, shaking him hard. "Don''t you know how dangerous that was?"


    The boy stared up at him through a curtain of hair, green eyes glinting with awe. Then his gaze sharpened, and he swallowed before speaking. "You are M¨¹ller, right? Squire Dante sent me. I have a message for you."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Where is he?"


    The boy turned and pointed to a fortified building along the wall. "At the tower, master."


    M¨¹ller nodded, dragging him to his feet, his eyes fixed on the tower. "Let''s go!"


    Without another word, they started forward, the tower looming large in front of them.

 Chapter 10

    A man stood atop a watchtower built into the wall, gazing down at the floods of roaring Drifteland soldiers pounding against the stone like crashing waves.


    He wore scale armor sewn atop thick leather, his face mostly hidden beneath a scale-plated helmet. The tough scales glinted a brilliant brown in the sunlight, casting a transcendent glow around him. As he shifted, the movement revealed a longsword on his back, partially concealed by a flowing red cape¡ªthe color of fresh blood.


    The man looked left and right¡ªthe entire wall was under attack. There wasn¡¯t a single spot where ladders weren¡¯t being placed, bloodthirsty soldiers climbing before they had even secured them against the stone.


    His gaze shifted to the defenders atop the wall, watching their frantic and desperate movements as they used thick wooden poles to pry the heavy ladders away. Whenever a ladder toppled, the soldiers clinging to it plunged downward, their screams swallowed by the chaos below.


    "It can''t go on like this," the man muttered, eyes narrowing beneath his helmet. "The men are burning out¡ªmentally and physically. Sooner or later, they''ll be too slow pushing a ladder down, and those filthy Driftelandians will flood the wall."


    His head snapped around. "Barden?"


    Behind him stood a well-muscled man, hands clasped behind his back.


    Unlike most defenders on the wall, the man was well protected¡ªhis leather armor scaled and polished to a fine shine. Yet, compared to Barden, it was lacking. The scales were nearly a quarter of the size and a lighter shade of brown. A sword rested in its sheath at his side, its well-maintained hilt hinting at the blade¡¯s condition.


    He bowed his head slightly, his helmet¡ªa simple leather cap reinforced with small, overlapping scales¡ªrustling as he adjusted and straightened. "Yes, Squire Dante. I am here."


    Squire Dante turned away from his enemies and walked to the other end of the wall, facing the town within. His gaze immediately fell on several large fires blazing below, each with a cauldron set atop it, surrounded by groups of women. "They need a deterrent¡ªsomething to give them pause."


    Barden remained silent, allowing the Squire to mull over his plans.


    "It''s been long enough," Dante said suddenly, turning to Barden. "Fetch someone light on their feet. I need him to send for someone."


    Barden scratched his chin thoughtfully. "There''s a boy below. He¡¯s come of age, but his frame is small and slight¡ªunsuitable for battle. I put him to work hauling supplies up the tower."


    Dante waved a hand dismissively. "I don''t need the details. Just call him up."


    Barden nodded, then strode to the staircase on the right, leading into the tower below. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "Boy, get up here!"


    All was silent before pounding footsteps against wood echoed up the steps. A head poked over the edge of the entrance, face obscured by a curtain of unkempt hair. "You called?"


    Before he could protest, Barden seized and hauled him fully onto the roof, setting him down in front of Dante.


    "Here he is, Squire," Barden said. He shoved the boy¡¯s head down into a bow, then barked, "Do you have no respect for your betters? Bow your head before you lose it."


    Dante raised a hand, signaling the boy''s release. "Leave him be." He gazed at the boy, his mouth turning down in displeasure at his disorganized appearance. "What is your name?"


    The boy raised his head, dark green eyes glinting through his hair. "Yasuke."


    "Yasuke," Dante echoed, rolling the name off his tongue. "I heard you are a good runner?"


    The boy nodded sharply. "Yes, master, none are faster than I."


    "Good. You¡¯re needed to find a mercenary named M¨¹ller," Dante said, his gaze shifting to the defenders on the wall. "He¡¯s somewhere along this stretch. Once you find him, lead him back here immediately."


    "Yes, Squire," Yasuke replied, bowing before turning and rushing down the stairs.


    Dante sighed, his shoulders slackening as his thoughts drifted to Knight Fitzgerald¡¯s words.


    "A mercenary named M¨¹ller will be placed under your command," Fitzgerald had said as he mounted his steed. He looked down at the bowed Dante. "Use him as you see fit¡ªjust be selective, don¡¯t use him unnecessarily."


    That Dante hadn¡¯t voiced any concerns didn¡¯t mean he had none. Still, the knights trusted the mercenary, leaving no room for dissent.


    Barden cleared his throat, snapping Dante out of his thoughts.


    "Squire, you should head down now. The enemy archers haven''t noticed you yet, but that won¡¯t last long."


    Dante nodded and turned, his cape fluttering in the breeze as he walked down the steps, Barden trailing behind.


    <hr>


    Yasuke barreled down the wooden steps into the room below, his breath coming in sharp gasps.


    The chamber was built of stone and lined with rows of supplies¡ªbundles of arrows, sacks of grain, and scattered weaponry. A large table stood at its center, covered with carved wooden pieces, various maps, and wrinkled parchments.


    Three openings led out of the room: two at opposite ends, opening onto the ramparts where defenders fought desperately for their lives, and a third leading down a flight of steps, descending deeper into the tower.


    Where is he? Yasuke thought, pausing briefly at the bottom of the steps. Which way should I go? Left or right?


    He hesitated, then turned and rushed through the left-facing door.


    "TO THE RIGHT!"


    "FETCH A POLE! THEY¡¯VE ALMOST REACHED THE TOP!"


    "AAAGH!"


    "SLING YOUR ARM OVER MY SHOULDER¡ªLET¡¯S GET YOU TO THE BARBER-SURGEON!"


    The rampart was a chaos of movement¡ªbodies pressed together, heads ducked low to avoid stray arrows, and the cries of the wounded, each in varying stages of agony.


    Yasuke had faced this sight repeatedly, yet it never failed to shake him to his core. For a moment, he stood frozen¡ªuntil a passing soldier crashed into him, nearly bowling him over.


    That spurred him into motion. He braced his feet against the stone ground and pushed off, sprinting and weaving through the mangle of bodies on the lookout for M¨¹ller.


    "HEADS DOWN! ANOTHER WAVE IS COMING!"


    A loud cry pierced the chaos, the warning sending a chill down the defenders'' spines.


    The effect was immediate. Panic set in as some men scrambled to the side, pressing against the wall, while those near the stairs fled downward, nearly shoving each other off and tumbling to the ground.


    Amid the madness¡ªthe boy was caught between retreating bodies and those who held their ground¡ªa rough shove from behind sent him stumbling forward, his feet skidding across the worn stone of the ramparts. Another body slammed into him from the side, knocking the wind from him. He barely managed to brace himself before his knee slammed into the ground, a sharp jolt shooting up his leg.


    Breathing heavily, he planted his palms on the cold, dust-coated surface, trying to push himself up. But just as he straightened, a shadow swept over him.


    He lifted his gaze, his breath hitching as he saw them¡ªhundreds, perhaps thousands of arrows blotting out the sky, their jagged tips glinting for a heartbeat before they plunged downward.


    His chest seized.


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    Run.


    The thought screamed through his mind, but his body was frozen, his legs locked as he watched the deadly rain descend.


    Run!


    His breath burst out in a strangled gasp as his limbs finally obeyed. Scrambling to his feet, he tore down the length of the ramparts, not thinking, not looking¡ªjust running.


    The hiss of arrows filled the air. He could hear them thudding into wood, into stone¡ªinto flesh. Cries of pain and terror rang out, but they were distant, drowned by the pounding of his heartbeat.


    Somehow, impossibly, none struck him.


    He didn¡¯t see where he was going¡ªonly the blur of bodies pressing in, figures darting past like shadows.


    Yasuke sprinted down the wall, his breath ragged and his arms swinging wildly, arrows everywhere around him.


    Yet a sense of impending doom gripped his heart, tightening with each passing moment. It loomed over him like a beast¡¯s gaping maw, ready to snap shut and drag him into the abyss of death.


    At the peak of danger, just as his mind screamed its final warning, a hand closed around his wrist, yanking him aside with force.


    He stumbled forward, his face colliding with the chest of his savior. Against his cheek, he felt the rough, scaly armor and the heat radiating from beneath.


    His breath came in heavy gasps as he struggled to steady himself.


    CRACK


    He flinched at the sound. Looking up, he saw an arrow embedded in the shield, its shaft still quivering. It had drilled halfway through before stopping.


    Yasuke swallowed hard, watching as the man tossed the shield aside.


    Then, the hands gripping him shook him roughly. A voice shouted, "What were you doing? Don''t you know how dangerous that was?"


    Yasuke''s breath caught in his throat. That voice¡ªit was unmistakable.


    He lifted his gaze and met the man''s eyes, awe flickering across his face. It''s him. M¨¹ller. I found him.


    The moment he first met M¨¹ller remained vivid in Yasuke¡¯s mind. He had been one of the survivors of the Second Battalion, just another among the many standing listlessly at the base of the slope leading up to the plateau. Then M¨¹ller arrived.


    Yasuke had gazed up in awe as the mercenary rode past on his steed, his expression confident, his eyes sharp as he issued commands and traded barbs with ease. His heart had skipped a beat when M¨¹ller¡¯s cutting gaze briefly landed on him¡ªonly to shift away just as quickly. And then he was gone, a lone figure riding forward, the enemy before him.


    For as long as he lived, Yasuke would never forget those deep blue eyes¡ªthe same sharp gaze now staring down at him.


    He might have lingered longer, but the moans and wails around him pulled him back to the present. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the collapsed figures of those less fortunate, their blood seeping into the stone, swirling together into a deep crimson stain.


    Yasuke''s eyes hardened as he refocused on M¨¹ller. "You are M¨¹ller, right? Squire Dante sent me. I have a message for you."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze narrowed. "Where is he?"


    Yasuke straightened slightly and pointed toward a fortified building along the wall. "At the tower, master."


    M¨¹ller gave a sharp nod, his focus shifting to the tower. "Let''s go."


    They started forward, weaving around bodies, sidestepping pools of blood, and hopping over scattered arrows.


    Yasuke''s gaze darted from one scene to another, watching as the injured and dead were dragged away and arrows wrenched from flesh and shields, then pried from the ground. The speed with which they cleared the area and reformed their ranks told him everything he needed to know¡ªthis wasn¡¯t an isolated incident. It had happened before and would likely happen again.


    A deafening roar echoed across the battlefield.


    Yasuke glanced left. The defenders scrambled into position, hauling poles as their commanders barked orders and repositioned men.


    He veered toward the edge and looked down. His breath caught. The ladders against the wall had doubled, and most enemy soldiers were already halfway up.


    The Driftelandians had seized the opportunity created by the arrow barrage, using the defenders'' momentary distraction to advance unchecked.


    Yasuke swallowed and turned away, hurrying after M¨¹ller as he neared the tower.


    He caught up just as M¨¹ller stepped inside, leaving the sounds of battle behind.


    M¨¹ller scanned the room, his gaze skimming over the stored supplies before settling on the table at the center, where Squire Dante stood beside his guard.


    Dante looked up as M¨¹ller entered, beckoning him with a finger. "M¨¹ller, I presume?"


    M¨¹ller strode forward, meeting the Squire¡¯s gaze. "I am. You called?"


    Dante gave him a once-over before sighing and gesturing to his guard. "I don¡¯t have the patience to explain. Just follow Barden¡ªhe¡¯ll fill you in."


    A rough hand clapped onto M¨¹ller¡¯s shoulder. Barden had moved beside him, giving a brief tap before striding away.


    He headed for the steps leading down the tower and started his descent.


    M¨¹ller followed without a word, the wooden planks groaning under his boots.


    "We''re hauling a cauldron up to the ramparts¡ªnot through this tower, but the stairs along the wall," Barden said, jogging down the steps. "It¡¯s hot¡ªand heavy enough that four grown men would struggle to lift it."


    "What''s in it?" M¨¹ller inquired.


    Barden paused. "Simply put¡­ a deterrent." His tone was dry. "Just don¡¯t spill it¡ªit¡¯s meant for the Driftelandians. I¡¯d be concerned, but we¡¯ve been told you¡¯re cut from a different cloth."


    He reached the ground and stopped before a heavy wooden door, then turned to shoot M¨¹ller a look. "I hope you don¡¯t prove us wrong."


    With that, he pushed the door open and strode out.


    M¨¹ller stepped through, squinting as sunlight hit his face.


    At the base of the wall, chaos churned. Tents and makeshift shelters crowded the space, their tattered cloth flapping in the dry wind. Fires burned low in pits, their embers barely enough to warm the battered men huddled around them. The air reeked of smoke and rot, of unwashed bodies and the fetor of piss pooling in the dirt.


    Barden locked eyes with M¨¹ller before veering right, sprinting toward a group of women huddled around a steaming pot suspended over a roaring fire, feeding it with scraps of wood, broken furniture¡ªanything that would burn.


    As they crossed the field, eyes tracked their every move.


    The women noticed them and stepped back, halting their work.


    M¨¹ller sniffed the air as they neared, a familiar scent wafting toward him. He glanced back at the tower with a raised eyebrow. Wicked, he thought, turning forward. ¡®Deterrent¡¯ was far too mild a word.


    M¨¹ller and Barden reached the pot, gripping its cloth-wrapped handles. Their muscles bunched as they hoisted the heavy vessel from the fire.


    "Make way!" Barden barked.


    The women scattered, hastily clearing a path.


    M¨¹ller followed Barden¡¯s lead, gripping the cauldron firmly as he strode toward the stairs leading back up the wall.


    "Wait!" A voice rang out behind them¡ªsharp, urgent.


    A single woman rushed forward, seizing Barden by the tunic, holding him back.


    One look at her confirmed she was aged, long past her prime, yet her grip was strong¡ªdesperate.


    She turned pleading eyes to him, then fell to her knees. "My son¡­ he was recruited at the start of the cycle, sent to the borders to push back those cursed Driftelandians. I haven¡¯t heard from him since."


    Her words tumbled over one another, breathless, frantic.


    "Please, I¡¯m begging you¡ªhe¡¯s my only child, all I have. Tell me he¡¯s alive."


    Barden scoffed and violently shook her off, leaving her to collapse on the dusty ground.


    "Get off me, you old wench! What does your son have to do with me?"


    M¨¹ller glanced around. Though no one stepped forward, he could feel the gazes of the soldiers and workers around, silently watching, not daring to get involved.


    The woman got on her feet and bowed her head, hands clasped ahead of her. "Please," she begged. "My son."


    Barden stared down at her, his expression cold. "We retreated with all who survived. If he''s not here, you know what that means."


    Without another word, he nodded at M¨¹ller and strode forward, ignoring the woman''s wails as he made for the stairs leading to the ramparts.


    The path cleared at once. Even the most battle-weary soldiers dared not stand in their way.


    The stairs were steep and uneven, their stone gouged deep from years of wear. Dust and dried blood slicked the steps, turning each hurried movement treacherous. They passed men slumped against the walls, heads bowed in exhaustion¡ªsome with hastily wrapped wounds, their linen strips darkening with fresh blood.


    The sounds of battle swelled with each step, reaching a deafening peak as they crested the top.


    The defenders had managed to keep the enemy from scaling the wall, but cracks were beginning to show. Hesitations, sluggish movements, and lapses in judgment littered the ramparts.


    Barden¡¯s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before pressing forward. He didn¡¯t call for the soldiers to move¡ªeither they cleared the way themselves, or the cauldron¡¯s heat would force them aside soon enough.


    As Barden and M¨¹ller advanced, the commanders signaled for soldiers to clear a path, forming gaps in the line. Shield bearers fell in beside them, their shields clattering together as they warded off the occasional stray arrow.


    One of the commanders pushed through the shield wall and bowed. "Master Barden," he greeted respectfully.


    Barden barely spared him a glance. "Where¡¯s the nearest ladder?"


    "Not far," the man replied. "Straight ahead, a few steps to the right."


    Barden gave no response but shifted course toward the location, leaving the commander behind.


    They soon reached the designated spot and dropped the cauldron, its bottom leaving a mark in the stone.


    Even as they fought, soldiers stole curious glances at them, murmurs rippling through the ranks.


    "What is that?"


    "I know that smell... That''s weapon oil, isn''t it?"


    "Heated weapon oil? What are they planning?"


    "Wait, they don''t plan to...?"


    Slowly, realization settled over the soldiers. Some broke into grins, their hate overcoming them, while others wore conflicted expressions.


    M¨¹ller met Barden¡¯s gaze. As one, they lifted the cauldron and hauled it to the edge of the wall.


    Seeing them approach, the nearby soldiers quickly stepped aside, giving them a clear path.


    M¨¹ller peered over the wall¡¯s edge, immediately locking onto an enemy soldier just below¡ªstaring up at him, unease plain in his eyes.


    M¨¹ller¡¯s expression remained unreadable as he met the man¡¯s gaze, even as he and Barden tipped the cauldron forward. A heartbeat later, the boiling oil spilled over, cascading down like a searing wave.


    The soldier could barely react before the boiling oil engulfed him. A scream tore from his throat as the scalding liquid engulfed him, his skin blistering in an instant.


    He staggered backward, clawing at himself in agony before crumpling and vanishing into the chaos beneath.


    Below him, soldiers on the ladder scrambled away¡ªsome slipping and tumbling into the depths, while those caught in the splash shrieked in agony. The acrid scent of burning flesh and oil filled the air as panic spread among the Driftelandians.


    Silence briefly hung over the wall¡ªthen a cheer erupted, and the men surged forward, striking at the hesitant enemy with renewed fury.


    M¨¹ller stepped back, allowing the ranks to collapse before glancing at Barden.


    Barden met his gaze and nodded slightly.


    M¨¹ller returned the gesture before turning toward the stairs. Exhaustion pressed down on him, his mind and body consumed by the need for sleep.


    A soft chuckle drifted through the air, lost amid the excitement. Squire Dante watched it all atop the tower roof, a slow smile widening his face.


    His cape billowed in the breeze as he stepped to the edge and gazed down. He inhaled deeply, savoring the jarring scent of burning flesh before exhaling, as if purging impurities from his chest.


    "Now," he muttered, turning away. "With that done, what other ways can they be stalled?"

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 Prologue

    A night practically devoid of all light, the darkness all-consuming and all-encompassing. On this type of night everything appeared murky and hazy, as if viewed through a tinted screen. Upon further investigation, the previous observation could be attributed to the dark and dubious clouds blanketing the sky. Consequently, the heavens, along with all the luminous heavenly bodies, were hidden, resulting in the current gloom.


    As a given, the occurrence of gloom was concerning, but deeper deliberation would prove it more an inconvenience than anything else. However, what if this gloom concealed something beyond the ordinary, perhaps, something resembling a forest? And not just any forest, but one with trees so uniform in their likeness that it bore a strange resemblance to a labyrinth, twisted and convoluted.


    At that moment, it ceased to be a mere ''inconvenience'', instead morphing into something twisted and ominous.


    With the previous usage of the phrase ''resembling a forest'', a clear purpose superseded it, as how can a forest born of nature have a baleful and dark undertone to it?


    Well, courtesy of the strange gloom, and perhaps influenced by a foreign presence, a sinister and foreboding aura, unnatural and wrong, could be felt within the baleful forest.


    In no way aiding the terrible perception were the trees and general environment. The trees, wrinkled, gnarled, and bare of leaves, with twisted, knobbed roots rising above ground created a landscape that required nothing more than a quick, no, passing glance to warn of the possible terrors within.


    Therefore, after witnessing the nature of the forest, what type of person would tempt fate and venture within its borders? Surely, common sense would prevail in the face of such grim warning signs?


    Yet, apparently not. Despite the foreboding atmosphere, a singular figure could be seen traversing the twisted landscape.


    The figure, hidden by the darkness and gloom, moved cautiously through the forest. The individual, while walking past gnarled trees and carefully stepping over the exposed roots, could be seen periodically pausing, at their sides a metallic glint breaking through the darkness. Afforded those brief moments, they turned around, their expression hidden, yet their body language spoke volumes.


    Notwithstanding, as the moments passed by a pattern became glaringly obvious¡ªthe individual was slowing down.


    Despite the worsening terrain¡ªthe ground dominated by roots, hiding the soil from sight¡ªsigns of wear, chief among them being the need of the individual to support themselves heavily against passing trees, hinted at the individual''s deteriorating state.


    With each passing second, the individual''s condition worsened. Soon, they could barely move, their body swaying with each sluggish step.


    Dropping slowly, back hunched forward with their hand pressed against the rotting bark of a tree, the individual sat down.


    The picture painted was grim and disturbing: heaving and trembling shoulders, slight shakes reminiscent of illness, combined with a bloody and filth-covered body. To discern the utter weariness surely permeating the shadowed individual''s body, all needed was a quick glance into their eyes¡ªhollow, lightless, comatose. However, even then, those words couldn''t truly capture the depth of lethargy in their gaze.


    Hidden by the darkness of the night, little could be discerned of the individual''s appearance beyond the haunting nature of their eyes and the general outline of their body. However, it was unmistakable that the person had survived a harrowing ordeal, revealed through the brief glimpses when clouds cleared, showing dried blood, along with a suspicious black ooze coating their form. Taking pity on them, a compassionate observer would rightfully advise the individual on the inevitability of their demise, urging them to accept it and bringing a swift end to their anguish.


    Yet, defying common sense, the figure raised their bloodied and scarred face, the black ooze running down their face, before wearily gazing forward. Within their eyes, a clear difference from moments before could be seen¡ªgrim determination. The change signaled a clear departure from their previous state, as a faint light, young and juvenile it may be, had returned to their eyes.


    That light¡ªor perhaps glimmer¡ªupon closer inspection appeared to emanate from deep and resolute stubbornness. It seemed that the individual doggedly refused to succumb to their injuries and slip into the unknown abyss of death.


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    The individual blinked through the haze, their disoriented brain working overtime to decipher the geography of the landscape before them. Through squinted and bloodshot eyes they slowly began piecing the fragmented images together, each blink bringing fleeting moments of clarity.


    Before long a fully pictured depiction appeared in their mind, leading to the recollection of their memories.


    Leaning against the tree and lost in thought¡ªa potentially grave combination¡ªthe dry bark slowly peeled away, drifting down to reveal festering rot beneath, which from within oozed a greenish-black pus. As the seconds passed, cracks began to form as the decaying sections joined together, and the pus, previously contained within began to seep out.


    Seemingly unnoticed by the individual, the pus reached out, extending toward their exposed back like the clawed talons of the malicious harpies. However, inches before making contact, it paused, trembling and jiggling; the quivering akin to shivering, hinting at the fear it evoked.


    "It appears too much credit was given thee." The ooze slowly pointed upward, following the sound of the voice. "An individual of such a high birth as thee keeping thy word? Laughable." Their eyes having lost the distant look, now gazing sharply at the ooze, the individual gave a wry, almost self-deprecating smile, those words perhaps leaving a bitter taste in their mouth.


    The ooze began slowly retracing its path, seemingly inching its way back into the rot.


    "However!" Abruptly, the individual reached out a thin yet wiry arm, firmly grabbing hold of the ooze. They stubbornly held it tightly even as it thrashed about, its talon-sharp claws cutting deep into their skin, simultaneously corroding muscle down to the bone with a nature reminiscent of acid. With a grim and unmoving expression, the individual pulled the ooze closer, ignoring its resistance even as it tried to engulf their arm. When it was inches from their shadowed face, they lowered their voice to a whisper. "It was never expected of thee to keep thy word...nay, that could never be found contained amongst my wishes."


    Suddenly, the intensity of the ooze''s trembling increased, then moments later, it withdrew, attempting to escape back into the rotting wood, the speed incomparable to when it first crept out.


    However...


    "Too late!"


    SCREECH


    ...Out of the blue, a fire burning with a green flame sprang up from the individual''s hand. It spread moments later, covering up to their forearm in the hypnotizing and bewitching color of the flame. But what happened to the ooze? It was now writhing about, emitting a deafening screech which echoed around the dead forest. Paradoxically the sound appeared to come either from the ooze or a location close to it, yet, somehow it also felt like it was nowhere but everywhere at the same time.


    Nevertheless, in the end, within a few short seconds, the noise abruptly ceased. Then, moments later, the ooze exploded, its remnants scattering in all directions, further coating his body in an additional layer of filth.


    Silence returned... the wrong, unnatural silence of the forest. However, it lasted only moments, a new sound shattering the atmosphere.


    PANT, PANT


    Hunching even lower than before, the individual breathed deeply, almost hyperventilating. Their body posture indicated exhaustion, suggesting that their previous maneuver had drained them significantly, leaving them weak.


    "Ha...ha...cough...cough!" Slowly, the individual looked up, their purple eyes glinting and dilating, reflecting complex emotions. Adagio, they opened their mouth.


    "Thou art aware, as am I, of thy presence; concealment doth serve thee no purpose."


    DRIP, DRIP


    Surrounding the individual, the sound of dripping water echoed, the scattered drops gradually increasing into a slight drizzle.


    Unperturbed by the sudden downpour; their determination evident in the gleam of their eyes, they peered between the trees, their breath coming in short regular bursts, calm and measured.


    "He-he-he, hahaha!"


    Abruptly, a muffled and humorless chuckle echoed through the eerie, lightless expanse of forest. The unsettling sound engulfed even the faint remnants of light, thrusting the already dim landscape deeper into the abyss of darkness.


    However, amidst the darkness, an area neither large nor small remained sufficiently lit. Its illumination stood in stark contrast to the surrounding forest, automatically drawing attention toward that zone.


    "Thou speakest no falsehood. Nonetheless..." From within the illumination, a vague figure materialized, their outline advancing nearer with each passing moment, shrouded in the flickering light.


    The individual''s eyes narrowed, the embers within rekindled. "Finally thou showest thyself."


    The figure emerged from the ethereal glow; a halo trailing behind them, a smirk barely concealed beneath their tone. "...I''ve not knowen a person to willingly stride toward their demise."


    The individual exhaled, straightening their posture before finally rising to their feet. Then with eyes brightly shining with intensity, they stared straight ahead, piercing through the luminous halo before settling upon the figure shrouded in ethereal light. "Neither, have I."


    PITTER-PITTER


    The wind whistled between the trees, its wrath evident in the ferocious sway of the gnarled branches as the downpour intensified. What had begun as a few globules had now transformed into a tempest, the droplets lashing against the tree roots with newfound ferocity.


    Yet, despite the storm''s howls drowning out all other sounds, each word spoken resonated between them, the tempest fading away as their senses focused on each other.


    The vague figure fully left the halo, then with steps light and feathery they crossed over the exposed roots over to the individual. "Tell me..." Lightning struck, casting a stark light which illuminated a male face drawn taut with lines of anticipation, his features etched with a mix of excitement, and apprehension. "Art thou attempting to default thy contract?"

 A Childs Scream

    A man with wavy, shoulder-length blonde hair stood upon a hill, his gaze focused on a vast yellow field of dandelion-colored crops spread out below him. Obscured by the field with only their heads clear, workers could be seen within, watering and tending to the violet-colored crops. A juvenile wind blew along, the sudden gust causing the man''s garments to billow and dance as the heads of the crops did, a small cloud of pollen lifted from the tassels.


    The man raised his hands to his hips, his red hair streamed behind him as he breathed in the pollenous air. "Ha-ahh! A bountiful harvest, Anyanwu smiles mightily this cycle."


    "Of course!"


    He lowered his arms and slowly turned around, the sinewy and well-developed muscles beneath his linen tunic rippling. Standing behind him was another man, less attired and hunched forward. He also wore a tunic, but his was of poor quality, appearing rough and slightly threadbare. The stooped man raised his eyes and plastered a smile, which competed with the light reflecting off his bald head. "With your esteemed presence in our tiny and humble tribe, Sir Dago, the great Anyanwu has no choice but to favor the crops this cycle."


    A heavy silence descended as their eyes locked onto each other. This uncomfortable atmosphere continued until the stooped man''s eyes shifted away, landing somewhere in the distance.


    Noting the shift, Sir Dago''s lips curved into a smirk, which disappeared moments later, replaced by a stiff line. "For what reason dost thou reckon thou wast summoned?"


    The man''s eyes cautiously landed on the other''s broad back, his mouth, desert dry. "Sir Dago, how could someone as uneducated and pathetic as I understand the workings of your brilliant mind?"


    "Try."


    The man swallowed heavily; the pressure to reply bearing down upon him. Sir Dago''s response left no room for refusal or bargaining; his tone demanding an immediate answer. His head turned toward the far side of the field, his eyes landing upon the plants.


    "The plants on my plot are undergrown."


    As the man''s admission suggested, when compared with the rest of the field, the difference was clear. While the majority of the crops had already transitioned three-quarters of the way, his had only reached the midpoint of its color change, standing starkly in contrast to its neighbors.


    A smile slowly widened across Sir Dago''s face. "It is as thou presumest. The time is upon us." His gaze shifted to the west, toward the lucent orb disappearing below the horizon. "Another happening akin to the previous cycle shall not be endured."


    With each biting, perhaps threatening, word the stooped man bowed even lower, his expression distasteful and sour.


    Sir Dago turned around. "I trust mine words be comprehended?"


    The stooped man lowered his face, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands.


    A frown appeared on Sir Dago''s face, his displeasure evident and his words sharper. "Right?"


    Moments passed with the tension heightening. However, before the breaking point, the stooped man glanced upward, broadly smiling. "Of course."


    Sir Dago carefully scrutinized his face before slowly nodding his head. "Good," he waved his hands dismissively, "thou art excused."


    The stooped man turned around, the smile still etched on his face, and began his descent of the hill. However, before long, a voice rang out behind him. "Halt!"


    The stooped man halted in his tracks, then with an apprehensive face he turned and looked back uphill.


    Atop the summit, Sir Dago looked down, the difference in elevation giving him the appearance of a Lord looking down on his subject. "Bathe thyself, thy smell is repugnant," he finished, his lips curling into a sneer.


    Once again, their eyes locked. However, within Sir Dago''s eyes something could be seen. Something that had previously been kept smoldering below the surface was now clear and unhidden...disdain and contempt. An expression of the superiority one would have toward a worm. He then turned away, his gaze trained to the west.


    With clenched hands and a face aflame, the stooped man once more turned around before hobbing down the hill.


    <hr>


    "That fucking prick! Does he think he''s better than me? Just because the Lord appointed him as the caretaker, he thinks he can do and say whatever he wants?" With his teeth gritted, the man stomped down, flattening the grass below his feet as he did so. "And what''s with that way of talking? I''ve never heard him talk to other Squires that way."


    As he walked down the hill, the stooped man ranted under his breath, his words of complaint becoming louder with every stomp forward his foot made. "Doesn''t he have any respect for age? I smell? I smell? That asshole wouldn''t know a bad smell if it kicked him in the nuts!"


    After a few more choice words, he calmed down, his breath settling as his rage left him. Nevertheless, the lingering aftereffects plunged him into a state of depression; his face a mask of deep weariness as he slumped forward, his mind a quagmire. A heavy-hearted and tortured sigh escaped from his throat, cycles of pain and resentment rising to the surface. "I... I... I wish I could tell him exactly what I think of him, but... even assuming that he doesn''t kill me, what good will that actually do?" His words were reduced to mumbles as he reached horizontal ground. His gaze turned east, toward the fields. However, his mind wasn''t in the moment, instead, he was lost in his memories. "I miss you so much."


    A lone tear appeared in his eye, its unitary nature providing insight into his emotional state as it slowly ran down his cheek, wetting his face before falling with a plop onto the ground. An instant too late, he swiped at the tear, a desperate gambit to salvage his composure. However, his moment of weakness was recorded, the streak down his face and the faint drop of moisture imprinted upon the ground sufficient evidence.


    Nonetheless, the sight of the wet ground proved to be the anchor he needed to regain his composure. With a hardened heart, he trod on the wet ground, crushing it beneath his heel like it was one of his hated memories. After taking a few deep breaths to quell his inner turmoil, he looked back up, his eyes steely, his face stern and unmoving.


    Now calm, he looked around, his eyes glinting. "Where is that girl? I know I told her to wait for me?"


    His mouth repeatedly twitched, his face now an obvious mask of irritation. "That girl wants to put me in a bad mood, doesn''t she?" His fists clenched, the veins within bulging. "This is the last time! I won''t let her¡ª" He raised his hands and cupped them around his mouth. "BRIE! BRIE!"


    His hoarse voice rang out, echoing around before fading away. After several seconds passed without a response, he turned around, his hand still cupping his mouth, and took a deep breath, preparing to release another shout.


    RUSTLE


    His head whipped to the side. Moments later, a susurrus of rustling crops emerged from deep within the field, the ruckus drawing closer every instant. However, just as the noise edged on unbearable, it abruptly ceased, and a shadowed figure burst out from between the crops... right at the man''s befuddled face. Unfortunately, before he could register the nature of the threat or raise a hand to guard his face, a heavy impact landed against his face, the sudden force bowling him over.


    With a grunt of pain, he fell down, the rocky earth kicking up a cloud of swirling dust, embellishing his garments in a thick layer of grime. Although bruised and winded, the man felt a chill run down his spine and without delay, he rolled forward. The man''s gaze lifted, drawn to his previous position. Instantly, his breath seized, and his eyes widened. A cry welled up, yet his constricted throat stifled it, forcing it back down. Crouched several meters away was the source of his alarm: a snout-faced, sandy-colored creature.


    The creature was of meager height; barely reaching his shin. Its fur was patchy and stiff, and from its posterior protruded a thin, haggard tail. Despite the meters of separation, they might as well have been beside each other; the stringy hairs within its wrinkled pink snout visible from the man''s position. Though he was neither a religious nor a prayerful man, at that moment, he found himself furtively soliciting Anyanwu within his heart, pleading within his soul for the creature¡ªthe mole rat¡ªto leave at once. The man slowly scooted away, careful of his hands'' placement as he tried to escape. All went well, the distance between them had increased two-fold, and he was moments from escape.


    CLINK, CLINK


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    He felt his hand hit something and slowly turned, watching with a sinking heart as a stone rolled away. It may be that he relaxed too early, he had always been a bit excitable, perhaps that was his mistake. Nevertheless, at an inverse with his sinking heart, the creature looked up, its hackles slowly rising.


    GROWL


    A snarl twisted the mole rat''s face, elevating its hideous visage to new extremes. The man stared into its glassy eyes, painfully aware of the field behind his back. He briefly considered sprinting; however, he found his leg refused to comply, fear having paralyzed him. The mole rat stepped forward, its feet crushing rocks into dust, its claws marking the ground. It put its nose to the ground and crouched lower; a predatory stance. Consequently, it pounced, many short but sharp teeth visible within its jaw.


    Moments stretched out, the world slowed down. However, the man''s thoughts raced ahead, swift and clear. Moreover, his heart was still, as calm as a serene lake. Countless thoughts and memories sprung forth, considered, dissected, before being replaced by a new musing. Yet, despite the multitude of changes, only one reappeared without fail, only the thought of Brie, his daughter, prevailed as a constant. At that moment, he was glad she hadn''t listened to him, at least she wouldn''t follow him to the afterlife. He closed his eyes, a slight smile atop his face. Although he had regrets, he was at peace. Hopefully, his dearest would be waiting on the other side.


    RUSTLE


    Suddenly, a noise sounded behind the man. An instant later a figure sprang out of the field, their arm drawn back. Aiming, they threw with all their force. A rock flew past the man''s head and crashed with a sickening crunch against the mole rat''s snout, dislodging its teeth. The creature let out a piercing screech as it collapsed to the ground, disorientated and stunned.


    The figure landed lightly beside the man and laid a dainty hand upon his shoulder, mustering all the force in their short frame and hurriedly shaking him while keeping a wary eye on the mole rat.


    "Papa, get up! PAPA!"


    The man''s eyelids flickered and scrunched up before slowly opening. Immediately he saw the mole staggering to its four feet, tail dragging behind it and eyes dazed. Nevertheless, that held little concern to him, what piqued his interest was the source of the voice he had heard. His head turned, dreading and hoping in unison, simultaneously fearful and joyful. With his heart a paradox of emotions his eyes landed upon a figure, his most beloved, his daughter. However, the paradox was short-lived, with one emotion rising above the rest: fear tinged with anger.


    "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he shouted, his strength instantly returned to him. He pushed himself to his feet, his worry a strong motivator. "Get away from here! Go back to the cave at once." He turned back to the mole rat, bending down to pick a rock as it shook its head. "I''ll take care of this myself." His previous fear forgotten, he stood proud. His lips tightened into a stiff line as he gazed ahead with steel-filled eyes, mentally prepared to combat the hideous creature.


    Ignoring the resistance from his aged bones, he pressed forward. His fifteen cycles worth of experience had him recognize the creature''s posture¡ªa savage beast, volatile and crazed, a danger to itself and all unfortunate enough to sight it. He glanced over his shoulder and shouted once more. "Didn''t you hear me, leave at once!" Yet, moments later, his eyes widened. Defying his order, Brie stepped forward, her quivering lip and wide eyes betraying her fear. Her father stood frozen in horror as she positioned herself between him and the mole rat. Instantly snapping out of his daze, he lunged for her, arm outstretched and face stricken. Mere fingertips separated them, yet to the man, it might as well have been a lifecycle''s journey.


    His eyes dilated, having caught sight of the creature crouching down, poised once more to spring forward. He was certain he wouldn''t reach her in time, and even assuming he did, he knew he couldn''t push her far enough to avoid the mole rat.


    What would have happened in the next few moments, had the creature leaped forward? Would he have pushed her away, or would he have been an instant behind, consequently finding the mole rat''s claws buried within her chest? Perhaps he would have reached her, but not fast enough to prevent her death, or maybe he would have saved her life, only to lose his in the process. So many possibilities, so many different ways history could have gone, so many ways things could have played out. However, of the limitless possibilities, the outcome chosen by fate was as unusual as it was unpredictable.


    SHRIEK


    Suddenly a high-pitched shriek tore through the air, the reverberations echoing around. The man inadvertently raised his hands to his ears. The sound pulsated through him, the aftereffects leaving his ears buzzing and his mind spinning. Nevertheless, the man''s shock quickly faded, leaving him looking dumbfounded, his mouth agape. He eventually closed his eyes, and after grappling with his thoughts, he reopened them. "What was that, Brie?" The man looked ahead, past his daughter, his eyes landing on the convulsing form of the mole rat. "What did you just do?"


    Brie turned around, her eyes quickly darting around, avoiding his gaze. "I screamed."


    He sighed, pinching his eyebrows. "Don''t give me a headache. Of course I knew that. What I want to know is why."


    A smile brightened her face. "Papa, well, I heard mole rats are incredibly sensitive to sound since they can''t see. So, with a loud enough sound," she turned shining eyes toward him, "it should be possible to stun them."


    The man''s eye landed on the glassy eyes of the twitching creature, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Sound? I knew they were blind, but I never thought about using sound."


    He raised his hand to his chin. Something about her words sounded familiar to him, like he had previously heard it. His eyes shifted back to his Brie. "Who told you about it?"


    Once again, her eyes shifted away. "What do you mean?"


    He shook his head, exasperated. He''d known Brie her whole life, those empty words of hers didn''t fool him. Saying she thought up that theory was pure rubbish. Though he had his thoughts on who it was, he wanted her confirmation. His self-restraint now thoroughly tested he raised a warning hand. "Brie I''m not in the test mood right now so don''t test my patience."


    Brie flinched, her hands trembling. "The Elder."


    He nodded, as he suspected. Ignoring her frightened expression, he redirected his vision back to the mole rat, straight away noting its lack of movement. "We''ll get back to this later, right now I need to make sure it''s dead. Stand aside."


    The man bent down and, after a moment of consideration, picked up a rough, jagged rock. Immediately straightening up, he stumbled forward, moving toward the still figure of the mole rat. Reaching it, he raised the rock, aiming for its head. However, before the stone could bash the creature''s skull, it abruptly sprang up, narrowly evading the strike. The rock landed with a loud bang against the ground, swirling up a small cloud of dust in the process. Hurriedly stepping back, the man prepared himself for any possible retaliation, positioning his body defensively in front of his daughter. Yet, contrary to his expectations the mole rat jumped back. After taking the time to growl in their direction, it clawed the ground, instantly disappearing below.


    Silence descended, nevertheless, they both waited a few moments, tense with anticipation for any sign of resumed attack. But, seeing no further movement, the father breathed a sigh of relief as his heart slowed down, the danger had passed. He gazed at his daughter from his eye''s edge.


    "Papa," Brie asked tentatively. "Is it gone?"


    "Yes," he replied. "It''s gone."


    Abruptly, he turned around, and forcefully grabbing Brie''s hand, he dragged her along. "Let''s go," he said urgently. They hurried away, the man eager to leave the site behind. In the background, he marveled at the speed with which he moved, shocked at his bones'' rediscovered vigor. When they were a distance away, an infuriating thought suddenly occurred to the man. There was no way Sir Dago hadn''t known something had happened, the shrillness and pitch of Brie''s scream assured that. Meaning unless he had already left, they''d been ignored and treated as an inconvenience. But he knew, Sir Dago knew; it was impossible he hadn''t known. Sir Dago had been well aware but didn''t bother with them. Their lives were disposable to him, nothing more than insects at the mercy of his whims. He glanced over his shoulder, observing the hill serving as a backdrop. Although distant, he could practically see him observing them from the summit, watching them run away, a sadistic, pleasured smile etched upon his features.


    He gritted his teeth and sharply turned away. Let him laugh, everyone had their time, nothing, and no one stayed the same forever. One day, Sir Dago would be at his feet, begging him for mercy. The man smiled. "One day," he whispered. "I''ll show you how it feels to act the fool!" Ignoring the confused look his daughter directed at him, he kept on running.


    Slowing down to a jog, he glanced at Brie. Now that he was convinced the mole rat was gone, he decided to really look at her. Previously, he had only given passing glances or at best a quick once-over, not seriously observing her. Nevertheless, now that he had, he was not pleased with what he saw. Her golden hair was as it always was, braided down to her waist, and despite the previous happenings, he could still see hints of her sunny smile and sparkling eyes hidden within her countenance. Her figure was not what displeased him, no, what displeased and put a frown on his face was the state of her garments.


    "Brie, what happened to your tunic?" he inquired, stopping to observe her.


    Brie glanced down, her face paling as she caught sight of a long tear running more than halfway up her tunic. As if to hide to slit, she grabbed the two split ends and turned to her father. "It must have happened while I was in the fields," she said swallowing heavily.


    His eye twitched. "What were you even doing there? I thought I told you to wait for me?" Though in retrospect he was glad by her disobedience, he still had his qualms.


    Interlocking her fingers, Brie nervously looked up at her father, her eyes hidden by thick lashes. "I saw it come out of the ground and enter the field while I was waiting, so I decided to follow it." Seeing the glint in his eye, her face paled further. "I was once told about it and how harmful it is to the plants, and since you told me not to disturb you, I decided to follow it." Her voice lowered with each progressing word, her gaze following suit. "I lost it soon after entering, and that was when I heard you shouting, so I started coming back. I was far in, so it took me a while to get out," she finished.


    The man remained silent, his gaze trapping his daughter. With a deliberate turn, he strode away, the stones beneath his soles scattering with faint clicks as he shuffled over them. Looking over his shoulder he observed Brie, his mind at work. Having children was tough work; he wished someone could have warned him of that.


    "Brie," he shouted. Seeing her look up, he continued, "You did well, good job."


    A look of surprise flashed past her face, her shock evident. In contrast with her previous dejected expression, her face suddenly bloomed a crimson red, and a wide, entrapping smile brightened her lips.


    He grunted again and carefully walked forward, a slight smile tugging at his lips, the imperceptible movement defying his attempts to remain stoic. Seeing the man, the impression might be given that he had already moved on, his previous terror forgotten. However, that impression was only received from observing his outward demeanor. Though this wasn''t his first time seeing a mole rat, it was the first time he had been close enough for its pungent smell to envelop him.


    He glanced over his shoulder. "Call your brother when we get back, tell him I want to see him."


    Brie''s face paled. "But... but... but..."


    "But nothing," he replied, cutting her off. Suddenly, a thoughtful look appeared, and he raised his hand to his chin, slowly rubbing the slight stubble. Once more, he faced Brie, a smirk plastered atop his features. "Also, tell Caion to come meet me," the smirk widened, "there''s work for him."

 The Cave

    Lightning struck, casting a stark light that illuminated a male face drawn taut with lines of anticipation. The man''s features contorted as he licked his mouth, a smile gradually widening his face. "Art thou attempting to default thy contract?"


    A breathless individual jolted awake, his eyes dilated. With a racing heart, he scanned the surrounding location, but to no avail, nothing registered within his mind. The same horrifying scenes replayed time and again in his mind. His breath came out in puffs and gasps, his throat tight and constricted. Slowly, he pressed his hand against his chest, desperately attempting to calm his soul. Yet, despite his best efforts, the nightmarish images continued their siege, the resulting terror maddening his mind. Nothing he tried helped ease his hyperventilation; soon, it was all he could do to remain conscious. His ears hummed, and his vision blackened.


    CREAK


    Suddenly, a bright light cut through, the luminous glow restoring sanity and easing his tortured mind. Gradually, the individual raised his hand to his face, utilizing it as a shield to limit the radiance of the light.


    "Caion?"


    From within the light, a figure materialized, the glow creating an encircling halo. With his mind disoriented, the individual couldn''t recognize or even discern the figure''s features amidst the intensity, everything blurring into one vague frame. However, the figure didn''t have that problem. Instantly spotting the crouched form of the individual, they hurried over. "Caion, are you ok? Why do you look like that?"


    Caion gazed at the individual, eyes squinted. "Hu... huu... huh?"


    The figure knelt and gently reached for Caion''s face. "Again!" they exclaimed, their concern evident. They moved their hands to either side of Caion''s face. "Deep breaths, it''s not real. Can you feel my hands?" Caion''s eye brightened. Noticing the change, they pressed on. "Focus on that feeling."


    The individual allowed a moment''s reprieve before stepping back, tapping their leg as they waited. They didn''t have to wait long. Abruptly, while still gazing at them, Caion''s eyes dilated, and with a pained groan, he grabbed his head. After waiting an instant or two for the dizziness to fade, he looked up. Gradually, a face came into focus, a smiling and cheery-looking face. "Another of those nightmares huh, Caion?" the figure asked.


    Caion squinted, "Brie?"


    Straightening up, Brie extended her hand. "You seem better now. That''s good," she added. Her smile dimmed, "Papa''s asking for you."


    Grabbing Brie''s outstretched arm, Caion pulled himself up, his tug almost leading to her collapse. "Old man Eger?" he scowled, shaking his head to dispel the persistent fog. "What does he want?"


    Lightly shaking her head, Brie grabbed his hands, her hazel eyes probing his. "Never mind that. Are you ok?" she inquired, her concern palpable. "Wasn''t it last cycle you had the dream? I thought it had finally stopped."


    Caion sighed deeply as his hands fell down. "It hasn''t, and it never will."


    A silence descended. Taking advantage of the quiet the reprieve offered him, Caion let his thoughts wander. He knew¡ªhis experiences having taught him¡ªif he closed his eyes, the graphic images of the dream would play behind his lids. For goodness knows how long, the same memories, every single scene, would be reenacted on repeat. He would have no rest. Caion shook his head and began cursing his burdened mind now that his introspection was finished. Glancing over, his eyes landed on Brie''s face, noting her absent-mindedness. "How did you know where I was?"


    Brie jerked, Caion''s words snapping her out of her trance. "What did you say?"


    "How did you know where I was?" Caion repeated, his voice tinged with exasperation.


    "Oh, that," Brie responded, her voice now focused. "It''s no secret that you''re always here. Everyone knows this." She shrugged, her small nose wrinkling up as she ran her eyes around the space. "I still don''t understand why you like it here; it''s cold and smells funny."


    Caion looked around. His gaze swept over the stone walls, which housed rock shelves and various tools. Walking to one such shelf, he picked up a sickle, running his fingers over the chipped stone blade as he turned around. "No one comes here, and it''s always quiet." He smiled wryly, carefully placing the sickle back down. "Sadly, after the harvest starts, that''ll change." He locked eyes with Brie.


    Brie''s eyes darkened, a shadow clouding her face. "Yes... I know."


    "Now let''s go see what Old Eger wants," he said, draping his arm around Brie. "I''m sure it''s nothing good."


    "Ok." was the response, Brie''s eyes distant, her mind occupied.


    Turning, Caion looked out at the warm light brightening the room, the intensity of the glow diminished now that his eyes had adjusted. "No point worrying about that now, it''ll be up to fate." He remarked. Smirking, he rubbed Brie''s head. "Calm down. Nothing will happen to you, fate isn''t that cruel," he finished. He removed his hand and turned around, slowly moving toward the light.


    "Yes," Brie replied, her smile returned, "you''re right." Following him, she walked toward the light, her troubles eased.


    Caion smiled as he stepped through the light. "That''s right, trust your big brother."


    A wind blew past, the gale carrying the smell of pollen. Caion inhaled deeply, the gentle swaying of the half-purple and yellow crops before him soothing his mind and calming his nerves.


    "Are we going back?" Brie called, emerging from the stone shelter and closing the wooden door behind her.


    Caion stood facing the field for a moment longer before shifting his eyes to Brie. "We would, but..." he hesitated, scratching the back of his head, "I haven''t gotten the firewood yet."


    Brie''s mouth dropped open, and she stared in disbelief. "Papa told you to get it before he came back," she exclaimed, eyes wide as she intertwined her fingers. "He should be back by now," she continued. "What will you tell him?"


    "What will that old man do?" Caion replied, scoffing. "Maybe if I were one or two cycles younger, he would have been able to smack me around." He flexed his biceps, a smirk on his face. "But I would hate to be him if he tries it now."


    Brie''s brow knotted and she bit her lip. "Please don''t fight with him," she pleaded, tearing up. "I don''t want anything to happen to either of you."


    Caion''s eyes softened. "Don''t worry," he said, rubbing her head. "Nothing will happen. I was just joking," he reassured, smiling.


    "Okay," Brie said, rubbing her eyes. "So, let''s go gather the firewood."


    "Right," replied Caion, dropping his arm to his side. "Let''s go."


    Caion and Brie began their journey down a dirt path off the cliff.


    "Remember, never run ahead of me," Caion instructed, fixing her with a firm gaze. "Always stay a stone''s throw from me."


    "I know," retorted Brie, sulking. "I promised I wouldn''t."


    "Good," Caion said, nodding his head.


    Brie sighed, then replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, by the way, while Papa and I were at the fields, a mole rat attacked us."


    Caion stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head slowly to look at Brie. "Huh?"


    <hr>


    "Why do you do this?"


    Two figures stood next to a clear stream, the rapids an image of tranquility. The first individual wielded a stick, swinging it up and down with amateurish, unrefined movements. Despite his shaking arms, he continued to cut the air, a determined glint burning within his eye. The second observed him with a disapproving look. "No, I know why you''re doing this," he continued, shaking his blonde hair. "What I want to know is to what end?" The disapproving individual suddenly laughed, a humorless sound. "Don''t tell me you''re aiming to become a Lord?"


    Slowly, the sound died down and a disbelieving look appeared on his face, his jaw slightly open. "That is your goal." He rubbed his temples. "Char¡ª"


    The stick stopped midair, the person turning to glare at him. "Priont, don''t call my name!" he barked, resuming swinging the stick. "I have no need for people lacking faith."


    He recoiled as if struck, staring at Char with a hurt look in his eye, his words having cut him deep. He took a deep, calming breath. "That''s not like you," he began, "call me Pri like you usually do."


    Char remained silent, still swinging the stick while ignoring the sweat dripping from his face onto the ground.


    Pri sighed wearily. "We''ve been here a long time, isn''t it time to go?" he scowled, turning around, his eyes following the stream. "I wouldn''t want to anger my father."


    "Pri..." Char''s voice drew on, hesitating.


    Pri looked over his shoulder. Char had lowered the stick, observing him with a complicated gaze. "Yes?" Pri replied, his impatience apparent from his narrowed eyes.


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    Char''s eyes softened, the steel gone. "You used to want more than this, do more with your life."


    Pri scoffed; a self-deprecating sound. "That was a long time ago, I was a child. I didn''t understand my place in the world, I..." he briefly paused, staring at the rushing stream as he continued in a pained tone. "...didn''t get my fate."


    Char reached for him, his voice strangled. "Pri..."


    Pri raised his hand, cutting him off. "Don''t, just... don''t," he emphasized.


    Moments passed in that fashion: Pri gazing listlessly at the stream, his green eyes empty. Char felt conflicted, his mind worked at a response, yet the right words to cheer up Pri eluded him.


    Pri slowly shook his head, shifting to look at Char. "I''ve long since come to peace with it." He began walking, calmly observing the rocky hills in the distance, the origin of the stream. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the cool and refreshing air found beside bodies of water. "As long as everyone stays safe," he continued, jaws tightening as his eyes sharpened, "my life has meaning."


    Char stared after him, eyes narrowing. "Do you really believe that?"


    Pri hesitated a moment, doubt appearing in his eyes. "I do," he replied, forging ahead.


    <hr>


    Caion and Brie walked down a crumbling dirt path, the landscape around them monotonous with its shades of brown, stone, and dirt. Keeping with the land''s barren visuals, the air was dry and carried the faint scent of dust and grime. Caion carried two bundles in his hands, his sandals crunching on the pebbles below, while Brie trailed behind him, her eyes trained on the horizon, observing the towering and craggy mountains with a wondrous expression plastered atop her face.


    "So you screamed?" Caion asked, glancing at Brie.


    Brie forcefully tore her gaze from their peaks, regretfully turning to Caion. "Yes," she said, nodding. "Then it ran away."


    "Huh," Caion said, switching the bundle he carried between hands. "That''s interesting. If I''m ever unfortunate enough to meet one, I''ll know what to do."


    Brie shook her head. "You can''t do it. I''m the only one who can," she explained.


    "Really? Why''s that?" Caion asked.


    "I don''t know," Brie said. "That''s what I was told," she finished.


    "Hmmm," he replied absentmindedly. Caion''s gaze was trained ahead, eyes constantly flitting around.


    Brie noticed this but remained silent.


    They neared the settlement while things remained in that state; neither speaking, the silence comforting.


    Brie glanced at the bundle Caion carried. "Is it heavy?"


    Caion turned to Brie, more relaxed. "No, it''s actually pretty light," he replied.


    "Oh, then can I carry it?" Brie asked excitedly. She raised her arms. "I think I''m ready to do more of the work."


    "Hahaha!!!" Caion laughed, a rumbling sound. "Calm down. It''s not heavy for me, but I promise it will be for you," he said.


    Brie pouted. "How do you know?" she retorted, her voice edged with irritation. "For all you know, I''ve been¡ª" Her words trailed off as she noticed a change in Caion¡¯s posture: his back was tense. Although she couldn''t see his face, she knew he had noticed something. Her heart rate spiked and muscles tensed as the memories of her encounter with the mole rat resurfaced. Slowly, she extended a shaking hand and tugged at his tunic.


    Caion turned a perplexed face toward Brie. ¡°Where''s Pri?¡± he asked, dropping the bundles. ¡°Wasn''t he supposed to be on watch today?"


    Brie¡¯s eyes shifted to the hillside. She searched briefly before catching sight of a cave hidden in the rocky wall. Caion was right, no one seemed to be guarding the entrance. But...


    "Isn''t that normal?" Brie replied. "No one really takes that job seriously." She shrugged her shoulders. "What would we be guarding from..." Brie''s words trailed off, an image of the mole rat flashing in her mind.


    Caion, focused on the entrance, didn¡¯t notice her distressed pause. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re right, but that doesn¡¯t explain what I¡¯m hearing."


    Brie shelved the recurring thought and peered in the settlement''s direction, ears straining in concentration. However, an instant later, she sighed, her focus broken, then turned a confused gaze to Caion. "What do you mean?" she whispered. "I can''t hear anything." She stepped closer to Caion, positioning herself behind him, eyes intent on the cave. "What is it?"


    Caion hesitated, his brow furrowing as his mind worked to identify the perceived sounds. "Shouting," he paused, "people shouting."


    Brie''s eyes flitted to Caion, her pupils wide. "Really, is that all?" she asked, her tone easing. She breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging. "Then there''s no reason to be worried," she giggled, chest heaving. "It''s probably just Warson and Yiwa having another argument." Brie shook her head, a smirk teasing her lips. "Why won''t she just give him her approval?"


    ¡°No,¡± he shook his head, ¡°that¡¯s not¡­¡± Caoin¡¯s voice trailed off, his eyebrows scrunching up. ¡°It¡¯s stopped.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quiet now,¡± he said, pausing. ¡°Almost unnaturally so.¡± Moments passed with Caoin¡¯s gaze fixed intently on the opening before he eventually took a tentative step forward. ¡°Stay behind me,¡± he commanded, his tone authoritative.


    Brie nodded sharply; he didn¡¯t need to tell her, she would have done so anyway.


    They resumed their trek toward the cave, each pebble crushed underfoot echoing loudly in their ears. Brie slowed her pace with each step, increasing the distance between herself and Caion. She stood what she considered a safe distance, then, with bated breath, she watched as he paused a stone¡¯s throw from the cave.


    After standing for what felt like an eternity to the watching Brie, Caion suddenly spoke. ¡°I know this voice,¡± he said, his tone easing. Before Brie could ask any questions, he strode toward the opening.


    Bire blinked in shock as he vanished into the dark cave. ¡°Wait!¡± she called, finding her voice. ¡°I thought it wasn¡¯t safe?¡± She hesitated a moment, then with a weighty huff, she followed after him.


    Brie walked into the gaping entrance of the cave with measured steps, feeling more nervous than she had when facing the mole rat. The air felt heavier and thicker than normal, and although she knew this impression was probably in her mind, she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of profound wrongness consuming her. Contributing to this perception was the oddity of the absence of people, resulting in Brie¡¯s current taut emotional state.


    She stood there for an instant, her eyes wandering warily between shadowed corners as they adjusted to the dimmed lighting. Once her vision cleared, she directed her attention down a sloping tunnel. It wasn¡¯t a long path, barely a few steps needed before reaching the bottom. However, there was a brief period between the end and the entrance when all light disappeared¡ªa section of absolute darkness, as the entrance was too far for incoming light, and the end wasn¡¯t near enough for the torch flames to illuminate.


    Brie took a deep breath and stepped forward, her heart pounding as she entered the dark tunnel. A shiver raced down her spine, and her breath caught in her throat. The darkness felt more oppressive than ever before, intensifying her fear.


    Brie took a deep, shaky breath before stepping hesitantly into the dark tunnel. Instantly, a shiver raced down her back. The feeling of wrongness increased exponentially, and her breath caught in her throat. That area had always frightened her, but never to this extent. Her mind screamed danger, warning her that the consequences of staying even a moment longer would be disastrous. Brie¡¯s breath quickened and her heart pounded painfully. It felt as if a dark claw was reaching out to her from within the darkness, an instant away from prying into her mind and penetrating her thoughts. Nevertheless, just as quickly as the sense of catastrophe appeared, it vanished. Gradually, the sensation of disaster eased. She breathed out deeply as she raised a hand to her chest, feeling her restless heart relaxing. Brie looked back up the passage and shivered. She did not want to wait for the feeling to come back. With a hurried step, she rushed down the remainder of the tunnel and burst out into a brightly lit cavern.


    Instantly, Brie found herself facing a scattering of silent individuals. Despite her age, she could immediately feel the weighted atmosphere encircling the space. Brie swallowed heavily as several sharp gazes shifted to her, their faces screaming their displeasure. However, they only gave her a few seconds of observation, after which they turned away. Brie released a withheld breath, repeatedly blinking as her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting.


    ¡°We will just have to start the harvest earlier than planned,¡± called out a soft, weak voice.


    Brie¡¯s pupils dilated upon hearing the voice. With a sharp jerk, her head shot up and she stared forward in surprise.


    At the far end of the cave stood a weathered, white stone ledge. Countless strange symbols and markings were carved atop its surface, giving it a mystical appearance. An aged man stood upon the ledge, gripping a gnarled stick. He was attired in a rough, brown hide and had a full head of cascading white hair. The man gazed down from the heights, and despite his disheveled appearance, his words conveyed experience and wisdom.


    "I know you all have your worries and fears," continued the man calmly, his tone serene, "but there''s no need to panic." His eyes swept the cavern, easing the tension of all he laid eyes on. "As long as we complete the harvest before the mole rats fully arrive, everything will be all right." He gazed around once more. "I''ll consult with the ancestors for further guidance," he added.


    The man turned and began walking away, his body disappearing behind the ledge. "Keep going as you have," he said, voice fading. "We will begin the harvest at the most opportune moment."


    A buzz broke out an instant later, the people conversing in groups with one another. However, Brie remained still, her eyes and thoughts focused on the ledge.


    "Hey!"


    Brie turned to the left and saw Caion walking toward her.


    "Everything was fine," Caion said, smiling sheepishly. "I guess I was too nervous."


    "What happened?" Brie asked.


    Caion turned, his eyes observing the scattering of individuals. "I guess they were in a panic about the mole rat," he answered, shrugging. "Though I don''t understand why when it was only one."


    "Where there is one, more will follow."


    Brie and Caion turned as one, instantly recognizing the voice. Caion stilled and grew rigid. "Old Eger."


    Eger''s gaze focused on Brie, ignoring Caion. "You won''t know this as you''re too young," he began, "but many cycles ago, long before you were born, the same thing happened. The ancestors didn''t think much of it when the first mole rat appeared. After killing it, they continued with business as usual. They didn''t realize their mistake in not harvesting early until it was too late." He shook his head. "The latter half of the cycle was very hard, and many died."


    Brie paled. "I didn''t know."


    "I don''t expect you to, it was so long ago," he finished. He then turned to Caion, his veins bulging. "Where were you?" he demanded, voice rising. "Didn''t I not tell you to gather the wood before I got back?"


    Caion''s face remained unchanged. "No, you''re right," he replied, tone level.


    Eger''s hands balled into fists, and his jaw clenched. "Then why are you only getting back now?"


    Caion smirked lightly, shrugging. "No reason. I just didn''t feel like doing it then."


    Eger''s face grew bright red, and he raised his fists. "You bastard!"


    Brie moved in between them and raised her hands. "Please, don''t fight!" she pleaded, tearing up as her eyes connected with her father''s. "Please, don''t."


    Eger''s gaze moved from Caion to Brie and back again. Noticing the sharp stares from those still around, he grudgingly lowered his hand. Eger grunted and began walking away. "Brie, go meet your brother. He heard about what happened and was working himself into a great rage when I last saw him."


    Brie''s eyes widened. "Pri, angry?"


    Eger nodded. "Never seen him like that." He sighed. "Anyway, go assure him that you''re okay. And as for you," Eger''s gaze shifted to Caion. "I''m just going to assume that you''ve gotten the firewood and dropped it somewhere. After you take it to the cave, come meet me." He began walking toward the tunnel. "I''ll be waiting at the storehouse."


    Brie watched until he disappeared into the tunnel before turning to face Caion. "Aren''t you going?"


    Caion shrugged. "No, I''m going to let him get far enough that he won''t be close by when I get the wood." He sighed, then faced Brie fully. "Anyway, what happened?"


    Brie tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"


    Caion put his hand on Brie''s shoulder and stared into her eyes, searching. "I saw when you ran in here," he said, voice low. "You looked scared. Did something happen?"


    Immediately, the memory of her earlier terror returned to Brie. She cast a nervous glance at the tunnel¡¯s entrance, slowly intertwining her fingers. Was it possible that was all in her mind? Brie found that possibility hard to swallow. If not, and something was actually wrong, who should she tell? Brie loosened her intertwined fingers. Papa? A terrible idea; he would probably threaten to beat her if she told him. She could always try to convince her brother that something wasn''t right, but she didn''t want to disturb and worry him. No, she would keep quiet about it. Maybe after a while, she would feel better.


    "What do you mean? Of course not," she replied, smiling widely.


    "Are you sure?" Caion asked, hesitant. "It seemed to me that you looked strange¡ª"


    "I guess you were wrong," Brie replied, cutting in. She swiveled on her heels and began skipping toward a row of narrow passages at the far side of the cavern. "I''m going now, bye."


    Caion''s gaze tracked her until she disappeared into a passage. A few moments later, he turned and walked toward the tunnel, eyes thoughtful.

 chapter 1

    Standing in the middle of a grassy meadow, hidden deep within a forest of dense and tall trees, grazed a mysterious creature. It was twice the height of a man, had a dirty brown coat, thick white fur around its neck, and walked upon four strongly muscled legs. Sunlight filtered through the towering trees, casting long shadows across the open field. Occasionally, the creature''s ears twitched and its nose quivered as if sensing an unseen threat. It grazed quietly, though its movements to different corners of the meadow carried a sense of caution. However, unbeknown to the creature, hidden in the dense foliage, was a ring of hunters. They moved under the forest¡¯s cover with sharp spears of wood, each step muffled by the soft carpet of leaves and moss while they completed their encirclement. Gradually, each hunter pulled back their spears and steadied their arms, patiently waiting for the right moment.


    CRACK! Suddenly, a sharp snapping echoed through the meadow, only to be immediately drowned out by the piercing tweet of an unseen bird. The creature tensed and raised its fur neck upon hearing the sound. It searched around with its glossy red eyes before cautiously stepping back. Instantly, the hunters pulled back their arms in unison and hurled their spears with deadly precision at the creature.


    THUD, THUD, THUD! The creature swayed for a few steps, each limb and vital point penetrated by spears as thick as a man¡¯s finger. Slowly, its red eyes turned lifeless and dim, and with a final shudder, its massive frame abruptly collapsed onto the soft grass.


    The hunters rose silently from the underbrush, their silhouettes sharp against the forest. One by one, they emerged from cover, moving with deliberate care, scanning the surrounding woods for any sign of danger. Soon the muscle-bound and long-haired hunters surrounded the corpse. Many had unsightly scars to match the grim expressions on their faces, and apart from loincloths around their waists, they were otherwise stark naked.


    One among them walked up to the animal''s head before crouching and closing its eyelids. He took a moment to mumble a chant before turning back to the men. "Fuon, change of plans. You''ll stay here." He ran his eyes around the rest. "The rest of you know what to do." Without waiting for confirmation, his gaze turned to the outer circle. "Ion," he barked, eyebrows pinched as he moved toward the trees. "Change of plans. Follow me, we''re on watch."


    The hunter named Ion clenched his jaw and followed after the man. The remaining hunters didn''t break concentration and focused on preparing the beast''s corpse. However, one among them lingered, his jaw tight and fist curling as he stared after the two departing men.


    The man reached the end of the meadow and melded into the forest, briefly disappearing from Ion''s view. Ion followed and vanished into the undergrowth of the woods. After walking a few steps he spotted the man standing hand extended beneath a particularly massive tree.


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    "Blood travels farther than sound. We¡¯ll keep watch from above. Even if this area is quiet, there¡¯s no guarantee what the scent might draw," he remarked as he removed his hand. He turned to Ion, "Let''s go."


    Ion nodded sharply, standing back to observe as the man began scaling the tree, his movements precise and practiced. Soon, a low-pitched chirp came down from up high, the signal for Ion to follow.


    Ion straightened his back and placed his hand against the bark, feeling for its roughness or smoothness. He gave the tree a quick once-over before grabbing onto a branch, making sure it was shoulder-high and thick as his wrist before pulling himself up. Upon climbing onto the branch, he quickly bent his knees to regain his balance and searched for another branch to ascend. Unfortunately, the only usable branch was too high to reach, so he placed his feet flat against the trunk and wrapped it in his arms. He carefully felt for grooves and ridges in the bark, and once he was certain of his hand position he began to shimmy up the tree. It wasn¡¯t long before he rejoined the man, having ascended the tree at a steady pace.


    ¡°Your climbing skills have improved,¡± the man observed, his narrowed gaze scanning the forest as Ion pulled himself onto a branch adjacent to him.


    ¡°I had a good teacher,¡± Ion replied, slightly winded. He placed his hand against the bark, carefully testing his weight against the tree. ¡°But I still have a lot to learn, Hunt Master.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you have some measure of self-awareness. Then it should be obvious what I have to say.¡±


    Ion swallowed heavily and adverted his eyes. ¡°I stepped on a branch, and the sound startled the elafiot¨¦ras. If you hadn''t whistled the signal it would have been spooked."


    The Hunt Master¡¯s eyes flicked to Ion. "That wasn¡¯t your only mistake. Your throw was off. Instead of your spear penetrating its knee you hit its thigh. It may not seem significant, but in the chaos of a hunt, that slight error could mean the difference between life and death for you or your fellow huntsmen."


    The space momentarily grew quiet, the symphony of nature the only sound to be heard. Ion closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking a moment to impress upon himself the sensations of the forest. He felt the wind against his skin, smelt the raw and unapologetic scents of the forest, and listened to the cries of its residents.


    Having calmed down, Ion reopened his eyes before turning to the Hunt Master. ¡°Thank you for your guidance. I¡¯ve let you and my fellow huntsmen down, but I''ll do my best to regain your trust.¡±


    ¡°Well, you haven¡¯t been showing me you¡¯re sorry,¡± he replied sternly, turning to the surrounding woods. "We came to keep watch, yet have you faced the forest for even one moment?¡±


    Ion froze, his heart sinking.


    The Hunt Master stared deep into Ion''s eyes, as if searching his soul. A faint smile cracked his lips. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. You¡¯re still young.¡± He slapped Ion''s back. ¡°If all prospective hunters already knew how to hunt, who would I have to teach?¡±


    Ion''s lips curled into a wry smile.


    The Hunt Master¡¯s grin widened, clearly enjoying the moment. "Ion, your talents are immense, and your senses are disturbingly sharp." He gave Ion another slap on the back. "I have high hopes for you."


    With a fluid motion, the Hunt Master swung his leg over the branch and lowered himself. "Anyway, let¡¯s head back. They should have finished by now."


    Ion nodded absently, mulling over the Hunt Master¡¯s words. He watched the man reach the ground before starting his descent.

 chapter 2

    Ion and the Hunt Master emerged from the forest and walked into the meadow, instantly drawing the gazes of their fellow huntsmen. The Hunt Master looked around the clearing, noting the skinned and quartered elafiot¨¦ras. He stared hard as he moved toward the dead animal, enthralled by its beautiful and graceful visage.


    CRACK! He turned to see a large branch fall into a hunter''s waiting arms. Glancing upward, he spotted a second hunter climbing down the tree.


    "Hunt Master."


    Turning back, the Hunt Master saw the hunters fixing him with expectant stares. He squatted next to the elafiot¨¦ras'' carcass, forcing a wide grin into a grim line. "The innards?"


    "In the sack," came the reply.


    Upon receiving the affirmative reply, he turned to Ion. ¡°You and Fafon will be the first team to share the load of the elafiot¨¦ras." He then turned to the surrounding hunters. "I''ll lay a few false trails. Who knows what creatures could be attracted by the bloody smell?" He picked up the woven sack. "Hopefully, this will throw most of them off." He stood up and began walking away.


    The Hunter Master suddenly paused and glanced back. "Hutu¡¯s in charge. He¡¯ll plan the path," he stated matter-of-factly, nodding at a particularly rough-looking hunter. The hunter growled in response.


    His words acknowledged he turned back to the men. "Take his words as mine." He slung the sack over his shoulder. "Hurry men, you must leave while the trail is safe." He looked around, confirming his words'' impact. Seeing the serious looks of the hunters he nodded in satisfaction. "I''m leaving now. Leave as soon as you finish tying up the elafiot¨¦ras." With that, he disappeared into the forest.


    No sooner had he left than the hunters sprang into action, quickly tying the quartered limbs and skin to the branch before wrapping them in a layering of leaves. They also selected a variation of large and small bones before storing them in a leather sack. Hutu took charge of the group, directing each hunter with precise albeit rough-sounding instructions, showcasing his wealth of knowledge and experience.


    "Straight, then right," he growled, jabbing his stick into the dirt to carve a crude map. "Past the river, if safe, rest. Then downhill, follow water. Rocky ground leads to the cave."


    Hutu threw the stick into the forest. "Surd and Yill, lead. Puty scouts front; Suio and Lak, the back. Rest, surround the carriers"


    Hutu pointed at the quartered carcass tied to the broken branch. "Fafon, take the lead, Ion carry end. We rotate at the stream." He nodded his head and smiled, his sharp canines showing. "Good plan."


    "Got it, Hutu," Ion replied, stretching his arms. He and the hunter named Fafon exchanged cold glances before wordlessly moving to their directed positions, carefully maintaining a healthy distance. They squatted, grabbed the branches'' ends, and hefted it onto their shoulders.


    Hutu carefully observed the group before nodding in satisfaction. "Move."


    With that, the hunters entered the forest, moving in the opposite direction of the Hunt Master.


    <hr>


    "Any sign of them, Char?"


    The man¡ªChar, apparently¡ªlooked over from his perch on the broad branch. Climbing the tree was a fellow hunter, Sax. Sax was dressed like all hunters; naked apart from a dirty loincloth over his groin, and had long braids covering his face. Char waited until he reached the top and sat beside him before shaking his head. "I haven''t seen anything yet," he replied softly, carefully observing the expansive trees and foliage below.


    Sax grew quiet, leaving Char to listen to the crash of the distant river


    "You think something¡¯s wrong?" Sax asked, breaking the silence. He twiddled his thumbs and nervously glanced at Char.


    Char shifted on the bough, mindful not to disturb its delicate balance. "Of course not. They were well prepared," he scoffed. Why do you think they were patient in observing the elafiot¨¦ras?"


    "You''re right," Sax replied slowly. He slouched and sighed in relief. "I should relax. They''ve probably crossed the Tachyro¨ªs River and will be back¡ª"


    SQUEAK! Startled, Char broke off and stared into the forest. "The signal." He turned to Sax, ignoring his startled expression. "Hurry, the reply!"


    Sax recovered from his state of irony and hurriedly got to his feet, nearly falling off the bough, before whistling into the forest.


    SHRIEK! Char''s head swiveled from left to right, watching the forest for any movement, Suddenly, a group of hunters materialized from within the forest. They rose like specters from the shadows and crawled out of the bushes and foliage.


    Char''s heart skipped and bubbled as they walked toward him. They appeared grim, serious, and tempered¡ªeverything a man should be. Char and Sax hurriedly climbed down, landing on the ground as the hunters reached the tree.


    "Cave," Hutu grunted, staring past Char at a sheer rock cliff a distance away. He hunched forward in exhaustion and staggered past Char. "Home."


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    Char excitedly turned and watched as he walked up the path and disappeared past a large boulder, barely noting Sax following close behind him.


    "Hey, Char."


    Char turned to see Ion walking toward him. "Ion," he replied, barely restraining his curiosity. "How was the hunt?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.


    Ion smirked and jerked his head backward. "Look for yourself."


    Char glanced over Ion''s shoulder, his eyes widening as the remaining hunters passed, having seen two among them with the carcass tied branch. He switched back to Ion, hands quivering. "Are my eyes deceiving me? You got a¡ª" He broke off and turned once more to look at the hunt.


    Ion nodded his head proudly and whispered excitedly. "Yes, it''s an elafiot¨¦ras."


    A smile brightened Char''s face and his head swiveled back to Ion. "That''s amazing¡ª!"


    CRACK! A sudden noise shattered the quiet, sending a flock of birds screaming upward. Char and Ion froze, their gazes locking as they dropped low. Ion tapped Char''s shoulder and raised his fingers to his lips. He slowly removed a stone knife attached to his loincloth and began to creep forward, keeping his body as close to the ground as possible.


    After a thorough search, Ion dismissed the noise as a small animal. He carefully sheathed the knife before standing up, eyes still searching the forest despite his conclusion.


    Char caught his gaze and gave him a questioning look. Ion shook his head as he walked toward him before offering Char his hand.


    Char exhaled heavily as he grasped Ion''s extended arm and got pulled to his feet.


    The interruption was a stark reminder of the forest''s unforgiving nature¡ªa place where composure was not a luxury, but a necessity.


    "Well," Char started. "You should go rest. I''ll get back to the watch."


    "Ok," Ion said. "Watch out for the Hunt Master."


    Char nodded and wrapped his arms around the tree trunk to begin his climb.


    Ion watched until Char was safely up the tree before quietly following the hunters.


    Ion marched around the boulder before grounding to a halt. He inhaled deeply and turned his gaze toward the surrounding woods, watching the foliage and undergrowth of the forest sway with the wind.


    ¡°Ion, where is Char?¡±


    The voice startled him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to find Fafon leaning casually against the cliff wall, his arms crossed.


    Fafon kicked off the wall and strolled toward him with a slight bounce. "Sax says he needs Char''s help dressing the elafiot¨¦ras."


    "He''s still on watch," Ion said. "I''ll help Sax instead."


    Fafon shook his head. "Always covering for him, aren¡¯t you? You know everyone has a job to do," he stated, resting his right hand on Ion''s shoulder. "You did your part during the hunt, kick up your feet and relax."


    Ion shrugged off Fafon''s hand and continued down the path. "Take his place out here if you want him dressing the elafiot¨¦ras." He glanced over his shoulder, staring into the foreboding woods. "All alone. Only you, the trees, and the beasts."


    SQUACK! As if to make his point, a loud noise sounded from deep within the forest, startling Fafon and Ion.


    Fafon''s eyes briefly narrowed and his mouth drew into a thin line. "I''d rather not. Anyway, why can''t he do both?" Fafon replied, a cocky smirk on his face. "If he wants to join us on hunts he should be able to do at least that much."


    Ion tuned out Fafon''s voice and continued down the rocky path, leaving the greens of the untamed woods behind him. He made a final leftward turn before grinding to a halt. Ahead, a towering cliff loomed. Ion''s eyes traced its peak before settling on a narrow crack, veiled by moss, wide enough for a man but impassable to larger beasts. He passed through the opening and entered a large, cavernous space.


    Ion briefly ran his gaze around the cave, searching for anything unusual or strange. The floor was uneven, littered with jagged rocks and fine, silty dust patches. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, each drop of water that formed on their tips falling with a faint, echoing plink into shallow pools below. Among the pools, the largest and deepest one was at the cavern''s heart. Stalagmites shaped like scraggy teeth rose from the cave floor and surrounded the pool like faithful sentinels. Sometimes when Ion entered the cavern he felt he had been transported to a hidden oasis within a forest of stone. With everything in place, he let his body relax and ended his search with a sigh.


    "Ion, join us!" strange


    Ion''s eyes shifted and at the center of the cavern, he spotted his fellow hunters relaxing around the oasis. "Not now!" he shouted, turning leftward with an apologetic smile.


    He left the boisterous laughter behind, stepping toward the cave''s far end. Once there, he saw Sax crouched near a branch suspended between two boulders, its ends supporting the quartered elafiot¨¦ras above the ground. Two leather pouches¡ªone larger than the other¡ªand a grass sack rested by his feet and beside him, a smooth, flat boulder served as a makeshift table. Ion silently walked up to him, watching him clear the ground of rocks and debris.


    "Sax," Ion called suddenly, startling Sax into a jump.


    Sax glanced at him, startled. "Ion. What are you doing here?"


    "I came to help," Ion replied, squatting beside him. "Char''s on watch duty so I''m here to take his place."


    "Really?"


    "Yes," Ion answered with a nod. He ran his gaze across the materials before turning back to Sax. "What are we doing?"


    Sax glanced at him from his eye''s corner. "S-s-smoking the elafiot¨¦ras''s meat," he stammered, reaching down to grab the grass sack.


    "What help do you need?" Ion asked.


    Halfway out of the sack, Sax''s hand stilled, clutching a bundle of twigs. "I''ll start building the fire. While I do that, can you cut the meat?"


    "Sure," Ion replied, walking over to the suspended elafiot¨¦ras. He cut a restraint, took a slab to the flat boulder, and unsheathed his knife.


    Sax''s gaze flicked to the blade. "Is that clean?"


    Ion shrugged.


    "Can you wash it?" Sax answered, muttering under his breath. "And can you also wash the meat? There is a pool where you can do it over there," he finished, nodding to the right.


    Ion sighed as he picked up the meat, yet still complied. Once back, he removed excess fat and unwanted tendons, using short, controlled strokes to avoid cutting into the meat. He sliced the meat thinly, working across the grain with careful, deliberate strokes, adjusting his cuts for bone or sinew. Ion repeated the process with all the quartered pieces of the elafiot¨¦ras, changing his technique with each section.


    Ion glanced back moments before finishing, noticing that Sax was nearly done with the fire. With a resounding click, he cut the final slice of the final piece of the elafiot¨¦ras. Ion carefully sheathed his knife before turning around. "I''ve finished."


    Sax was sitting in front of the fire, gazing at its smoldering coals with a blank expression before Ion called him. Upon hearing his voice he turned around and stood up. "Oh, you''re done," he said, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead.


    "Yes," Ion replied impatiently, his fingers tapping a fast rhythm against his thigh. "What''s next?"


    "Right!" Sax exclaimed. He turned and pointed at the low-burning fire, practically embers. "Can you stack stones around it?" he requested. "I''ll coat the meat in ash. After this, we''ll begin smoking."


    Ion shot a glance at the fire before turning and walking away. "I''ll go search for some."


    "Avoid any close to the pools. They''re too weak and might break."


    Ion raised his hand in a backward wave before stepping beyond the fire''s glow, vanishing into the darkness.

 chapter 3

    "What''s going on?"


    The Hunt Master was crouched atop the upper boughs of a tree, watching a stampede of creatures race below him, screeching and bellowing in panic as they haphazardly destroyed all in their path. His gaze flicked to the daggers at his loincloth before returning to the trail of destruction wrought by the creatures. The Hunt Master''s heart frosted as he watched the proceedings, the chaos as prey and predator fled together. What''s causing this panic in the forest''s hierarchy?


    He had long since created the divergent trails and disposed of the elafiot¨¦ras''s organs. Yet, instead of returning, he chose to investigate the forest for any irregularities. Ever since he began tracking the elafiot¨¦ras, a gnawing sense of wrongness had plagued him¡ªa feeling that something unnatural was influencing the forest. He had kept this unease to himself, refraining from informing the huntsmen and waiting until the hunt ended. When the unease refused to fade, he set aside his joy over the successful hunt and followed his instincts. Now, he was grateful he had come alone


    CRASH! The Hunt Master flinched as a large animal slammed against his hiding tree, the impact throwing it off its feet and to the ground. Before the unfortunate creature could recover, it was trampled underfoot by the routing animals, its skull crushed and its bones pulverized. In an instant, the previously domineering creature was a mangled mess of blood and skin. The Hunt Master''s mouth dried as he watched, his hold on the tree tightening unconsciously. Ancestors, let this tree hold, he prayed, his grip tightening with every strike the trunk endured. After an endless wait, the creatures thinned out before slowly disappearing in their entirety.


    When he was certain the creatures had left and wouldn''t circle back, the Hunt Master began climbing down, his gaze flitting around the surrounding woods. As he descended, the metallic scent of blood hit him¡ªstronger and more suffocating than anything he¡¯d known. What is this stench?


    Upon touching the ground, the nauseating fetor hit him like a wave, nearly bowling him over. The ground was strewn with maimed and disfigured bodies, their blood pooling into a crimson river of horror. The Hunt Master stared round in disgust, bile rising. There''s no beauty in this death, just senseless desperation and insanity.


    He stepped over a feathered and bloodied cadaver before staring into the forest''s depths, a chill running down his spine. Somehow, he could sense a dark presence deep within, something ancient to be left alone and not trifled with.


    The Hunt Master unconsciously lowered his hips and grabbed the hilts of his twin daggers, nearly drawing them in his fear. Barely breathing, he turned and hurriedly began sloshing his way toward the outer edges, escaping the path of the stampede. He briefly glanced back at the blood river, swamped with thoughts. This was a beacon for predators; he needed to escape before anything answered the call. Whatever stayed behind must be more fearsome than the stampede. He sighed in relief as he stepped off the bloodied ground and onto solid ground. The Hunt Master raced through the woods, leaving the destruction behind.


    SKEERT! The Hunt Master had planned to avoid this forest section and return to more familiar territory. However, as he fled, something caught his eye, forcing him to stop abruptly. He crouched, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on a cluster of animal tracks.


    Which creature does this belong to? The Hunt Master scrutinized the tracks, but no creature came to mind. Is it from deeper in? He thought, gaze sharpening. He shook his head. No, that can''t be right. They''re heading into the depths from the outer forest. He rubbed his chin as his eyes followed the tracks. These aren''t the tracks of a single animal; could it have been a group? Perhaps they¡¯re a pack circling back¡ªbut no, the tracks are too old, from before the stampede. He lightly touched the tracks, noting the deep imprints. Are they weighted down?


    The Hunt Master stood and turned toward the tracks'' origin, unease gnawing at him. Something about his analysis felt off, though he couldn¡¯t pinpoint what. These tracks are confusing. Were they made by one animal or a group? They¡¯re sending me mixed signals.


    He glanced to the north, toward the cave. I can¡¯t go deeper. The forest feels... unsettled. Who knows what I might stumble upon?


    GRRRR! A low, guttural growl rumbled behind him. The Hunt Master froze, his breath catching as he turned. From the shadows of the trees, a beast emerged, its glowing white eyes piercing through the dim light of the forest. It moved slowly, each step deliberate, claws scraping against the earth with a grating sound that sent shivers down the Hunt Master¡¯s spine.


    Skoteinos. His disbelieving gaze darted over its grotesque form¡ªthe hulking frame, the patchy black fur, the spiked tail that lashed the air. Then his eyes locked on its wound: a deep, bleeding gash along its side, dark blood oozing steadily and streaking the ground beneath it. The beast favored its uninjured side, each uneven step exuding menace and pain. From the stampede?


    The Hunt Master clenched his twin daggers, their worn grips digging into his calloused palms. He shifted his bare feet into a ready stance, muscles taut beneath his scarred, weathered frame. His thickly braided hair swayed slightly as he scanned for an escape, but every direction seemed a step closer to death.


    The beast¡¯s white eyes narrowed, locking onto him as a guttural snarl erupted from its maw, saliva trailing between its jagged teeth. The Hunt Master¡¯s chest heaved, his breath quickening. How is this possible, a skoteinos? He stepped back, eyes locked on it, blades defensively drawn.


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    Its tail snapped against a tree, the crack splitting the air as the trunk shattered in two. Splinters rained down, but the Hunt Master remained still, his left dagger in a reverse grip, his right poised forward as the beast prowled.


    The skoteinos and the Hunt Master began circling, their gazes clashing in between trees. Blood dripped from its wound, darkening the ground, but the pain did nothing to dull its savage stare.


    Suddenly, the skoteino charged, the ground trembling under its immense weight. The Hunt Master held his ground, waiting until the last moment before sidestepping with a fluid motion, his blade slicing deep into its side as it thundered past. The beast unleashed an earth-shaking roar, wildly swinging in its fury. The Hunt Master rolled away, his head marginally avoiding the beast''s claws. Springing to his feet, he dropped into a low stance, ready to spring in any direction. Its swings are weak and slow. His sharp eyes traced the bleeding wounds marring its hide. Still, I need to be careful. The Hunt Master pointed his toes outward, poised to pivot quickly. I can do this, he resolved, his breath steady. As long as I keep moving, and utilize my flexibility and agility, I can stall until it bleeds out, or escape if the opportunity presents itself.


    Their eyes connected, the air drawn and tense as they stared each other down. Suddenly, it paused and turned around, briefly peering between the trees before turning back to the Hunt Master. With a final, spiteful growl, the skoteino turned and stalked back into the forest, its malice palpable.


    The Hunt Master kept a wary eye on it, his grip on his weapons firm, refusing to relax until the creature''s bloodlust fully faded. Is it leaving? he wondered, brows furrowing as he lowered his daggers. Something about this felt off. Even with that injury, it still held the advantage. So why retreat?


    The trail of blood leading into the forest caught his attention. He squatted beside it, his eyes tracking its path despite his mind''s focus on the skoteino. What could have harmed it so severely?


    His eyes widened as a realization struck, and he shot to his feet. Was it truly injured during the stampede? His hand moved to his chin as he mulled over the beast''s wound. That was my assumption... but wasn¡¯t the cut too clean for an animal''s claws or teeth?


    His gaze swept the clearing, finally landing on the scattered tracks. In fact... it looks more like the slice... of a blade.


    <hr>


    Within the forest, a man sat in the shadows of a sturdy tree, a canopy of branches swaying gently overhead. His figure and clothing were concealed beneath a hooded cloak, yet the outline of his lean build was visible against it. Even at rest, he exuded an air of grace and nobility, his blonde hair framing a serene expression. He crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands behind his head, listening intently to the murmurs of the woods.


    CRACK! His eyes twitched as his arms lowered, fingers inching toward the scabbard at his side.


    "Knight M¨¹ller."


    His hand stilled, and his lids opened, revealing deep-blue eyes. His lips curved up as he gazed at the figure before him. "Squire Charles."


    Squire Charles was a stern-faced man in his middle years. He wore a billowing white robe, with a scarf held by a black band draped over his head. A brown strap ran diagonally down his shoulder, securing a sword sheathed behind his back.


    Noticing M¨¹ller''s gaze, Charles lowered his head and shut his eyes, silently waiting.


    Knight M¨¹ller rested his hands on his knee, his gaze sweeping over Charles before he spoke. "Glad to see you''re still alive," he drawled. "And looking no worse for wear."


    Charles remained motionless, his face unreadable.


    M¨¹ller folded his hands and tilted his head. "Where are the other Squires?" he asked, studying him. "Or were you the only survivor?"


    "No, sir. Everyone survived without major injuries."


    "That''s a relief," M¨¹ller said flatly. He grunted as he got to his feet, brushing off his cloak. "Where are they, then? Did you run into any trouble?"


    Charles bowed his head. "No, Knight M¨¹ller. I instructed them to recover the equipment and supplies we lost. Was that the wrong decision?"


    M¨¹ller pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "No, you did the right thing," he said, stepping forward, his cloak glinting silver in the faint light. "Though I don¡¯t have much hope. Seeing those beasts, do you think anything they tramble over will be salvageable?"


    Charles remained silent, his head still bowed.


    M¨¹ller frowned. "I told you to stop that. Raise your head."


    "Yes, sir." Charles lifted his head immediately.


    M¨¹ller studied him for a moment before exhaling a long-suffering sigh. He stepped onto a gnarled, exposed root and turned toward the outer forest. For a moment, all was still. Then, he pursed his lips and whistled a strange tune into the woods.


    Suddenly, a braying cry shattered the air, and a creature emerged from the shadows between the trees. It loomed tall on two elongated front legs that hoisted its massive frame high, while four shorter, muscular hind legs anchored it firmly to the earth. Its short brown fur bristled with ridges that caught the dappled light, making its skin appear rippled with each movement. Three eyes gleamed on its head¡ªtwo set parallel, with a third perched higher in a triangular arrangement. Slowly, it advanced toward M¨¹ller, its gait uneven and unsteady.


    M¨¹ller frowned as the creature lumbered closer, his eyes narrowing. The deeper we go, the rougher the ground and undergrowth become. He strode forward and seized its reins with a firm grip. If I go any farther, I''ll have to leave it behind.


    Charles gave a curt nod. "You found it, sir?" he asked, his tone emotionless.


    "More like it found me," M¨¹ller replied, offering a rueful smile as he patted its side. "Anyway, the good news is it still has the water pouch and some smaller supplies." He turned to the Squire. "Go back and round up the men; tell them to abandon their search."


    "Only me?" Charles asked instantly, noticing the omission.


    "Yes," Knight M¨¹ller replied. "I''ll move ahead and clear the path for the rest of you. I''ll leave more markings on the trees for you to follow¡ªwhich is how I assume you found me?"


    Charles gave a curt nod.


    "Good," M¨¹ller said, turning around. He placed his hands on his hips and stared toward the forest''s depths. "I''ll leave you with the ridgewalker," he continued, patting its brown fur. "Make sure to keep it safe; we''ll need it to carry our supplies¡ªand any beast remains we return with."


    Charles''s eyes twitched, but he didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he bowed.


    M¨¹ller pulled up his hood and turned to face Squire Charles. "Be quick. Take too long, and I can''t guarantee your safety."


    With that, he surged forward, disappearing into the darkness moments later.

 chapter 4

    Ion felt sweat drip down his face before splashing onto the ground with a soft plop. He opened weary eyes and raised his head. His construction lay before him¡ªa barrier to control the smoking. He had been overjoyed after laying the final stones around the embers, believing the hardest part was over. All that remained, he thought, was the simple task of smoking the ash-covered meat. How naive.


    Even though it didn''t require the physical strength needed to build the barrier, the actual smoking of the elafiot¨¦ras was the most strenuous part. Watching the meat, feeding the embers, and regulating the rising smoke was a mental grind, unlike anything Ion could recall enduring.


    He glanced to his left, where Sax sprawled on the ground, a leather pouch clutched in his hands. Ion chuckled softly. And I thought I had it rough. His gaze returned to the smoker, though his mind lingered on Sax. How had he managed until now? Whenever we bring back a carcass, it''s left to him and Char to dress and prepare its materials.


    Pushing the thought aside, Ion peered into the smoker''s base through an opening meant for tending the fire. The embers were cooling. They needed more fuel. He straightened and grabbed a nearby grass sack.


    "Sax?" he called, hurling the sack in his direction. The sack landed beside Sax with a thud, kicking a cloud of sand onto him.


    Sax didn¡¯t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and forced. ¡°Yes, Ion.¡±


    ¡°The embers. They need to burn.¡±


    Sax dragged himself upright with a heavy sigh, wet sand clinging to his sweaty frame. He blinked once before turning to his side, grabbing the sack to rummage for moss and leaves. Satisfied, he untied the pouch and poured its contents over the pile, dampening the moss and leaves. Scooping up the wet mixture, Sax moved to the smoker, carefully adding it to the embers. Smoke billowed upward, thick and dark.


    As the smoke funneled upward, Sax reached into a small pouch tied to his loincloth. He withdrew a handful of fragrant herbs, inhaling their fresh scent deeply. Earlier in the hunt, he had scoured the forest underbrush for the finest selection. He scattered a handful over the embers, watching their aroma blend with the rising smoke. Using a stick, he poked and prodded the fire before stepping back.


    Ion clicked his tongue and got to his feet. Without a word, he walked away, attracting Sax''s gaze. ¡°Are you going?¡±


    "Yes," Ion replied, striding forward. He sighed in relief as he left the fire¡¯s oppressive radius, the cooler air brushing his skin as he approached the oasis.


    It¡¯s quiet, he thought, his gaze settling on the pool ahead. Rounded a large rock, he spotted the men gathered a short distance away, seated in a half-circle around a flickering flame. Shadows danced across their faces, obscuring their expressions. Their conversation reduced to murmurs as he approached, before ceasing entirely, veiled eyes turning toward him. Ion groaned inwardly, noting the cautioning gazes the hunters threw Fafon¡ªwho, unsurprisingly, sat at the center of the circle.


    Fafon¡¯s lips curved into a smug smile, his gaze fixed on the pool. ¡°Ion, where¡¯ve you been?¡± He spread his arms stagily. ¡°You missed the gathering.¡±


    ¡°What gathering?¡± Ion cut in, his eyes narrowing at the group. ¡°No, never mind that. Why didn¡¯t anyone call me?¡±


    Fafon shrugged, his smirk deepening. ¡°We didn¡¯t know where you were.¡±


    Ion''s brow twitched. ¡°Anyone looking would¡¯ve found me with Sax,¡± he said slowly, his fists tightening. He jabbed a finger toward Fafon. ¡°And anyway, I told you where I¡¯d be¡ªor did that slip your mind?¡± he finished, voice dripping with sarcasm.


    "Really?" Fafon replied, dramatically slapping his forehead. "How scatterbrained of me¡ªmust''ve slipped my mind." He rose and stepped out of the circle, moving toward Ion. "Anyway, we had an interesting discussion¡ª"


    "About me," Ion interjected, folding his arms.


    Fafon stood toe-to-toe with Ion, their gazes locked. ¡°Right. Don¡¯t think we didn¡¯t notice. You nearly ruined the hunt.¡±


    Ion pushed past him, his eyes sweeping over the group in the circle. He stopped, shoulders squared, spine rigid. ¡°I meant to do this later, but it can¡¯t wait.¡±


    He met their eyes one by one. ¡°I¡¯ve already apologized to the Hunt Master, but that¡¯s not enough¡ªI need your forgiveness too.¡±


    The silence hung heavy as Ion pressed on. ¡°The group is only as strong as its weakest hunter. As the weakest, I¡¯ll dedicate myself to my training so I¡¯ll never put us in danger again.¡± He clenched his fists, his voice firm with resolve. ¡°I swear, I will not be weak!¡±


    "That''s enough Ion."


    All eyes shifted to the far end of the semi-circle, where Puty, the scout rested, his eyes shut. Although the Hunt Master led the group, Puty commanded immense respect and authority as the oldest and most experienced. He was a man of few words, only speaking when necessary, but when he did, his voice carried weight.


    Slowly, Puty''s lids cracked open, revealing sharp yet weary eyes. "I don¡¯t see why we¡¯re even having this conversation," Puty stated calmly. "This is your first real hunt. That you¡¯ve absorbed and learned so much already is remarkable." His gaze shifted to Fafon, firm yet tinged with disappointment. "As for you, Fafon¡ªstop this. What would your father think?"


    ¡°My father?¡± Fafon¡¯s voice rose, trembling with rage. "To the ancestors with him!" He shoved past Ion, his burning eyes locking onto Puty. "This has nothing to do with him!" Whirling back to Ion, he pointed an accusing finger, his voice sharp and venomous. "This is about him! This parasite¡ª"


    WHACK! Fafon staggered back, his hand clutching his jaw as he processed the hit. Slowly, he lowered his hand, revealing the beginnings of a bruise. He spat a bloody tooth onto the sandy ground, his furious glare drilling into Ion. "You bastard!"


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    Ion lowered his arm, his gaze frosty and emotionless as he stared down Fafon. His voice came out low but carried all the expression his face didn''t show. "Shut your mouth."


    Fafon''s eyes narrowed to slits, his rage boiling over. Without warning, he charged, fists raised, eyes a scorching red.


    "STOP!"


    Collectively, the hunters'' gaze moved to the pool, where a rough and disheveled figure had burst through the water¡¯s surface, disrupting the chaotic atmosphere.


    Puty exhaled deeply, fingers moving to massage his temple. He looked up at the figure and sighed in exasperation. ¡°Hutu, you could have continued your training. This was under control.¡±


    Only then did Ion notice the ring of hunters around him and Fafon. In their fury, neither had realized how quickly they¡¯d been surrounded. One glance at their piercing gazes told Ion all he needed¡ªanother step and the hunters would have forcefully restrained them.


    Hutu prowled back onto the ground, his every movement wild and animalistic. His eyes flitted between Fafon and Ion, his mouth curving upward into a smile. "No matter," he growled. "If want to fight, fight."


    He stepped ashore, his long braids clinging to his shoulders, dripping with water. Even among the fit and muscled hunters, Hutu stood apart. Towering a head and a half above the tallest among them, with arms as thick as tree boughs, he could crush stones with his bare hands¡ªand if the rumors were true, he had the strength to splinter a tree with a single squeeze.


    Ion''s body relaxed, his fists unclenching as Hutu approached. There was no room for rage with Hutu present¡ªhe was power and strength incarnate, the steady force keeping the group afloat. Suddenly, Ion''s gaze shifted to the water, a realization striking him. How long was he down there? Is it even possible to hold your breath that long? He turned back to Hutu, newfound respect flickering in his eyes.


    Hutu jerked his head toward Ion, grinning wildly. "No hear me? If want to fight... fight!"


    Out of the corner of his eye, Ion noticed Puty giving him a pointed look, silently warning him off. With a sigh, Ion grudgingly turned to Fafon. "I¡¯m sorry. I made a mistake in hitting you," he said, his tone flat and forced.


    Fafon glared at him, resentment and hate in his eyes. "No, it was my fault," he spat, his face contorting with anger. "I hope you can forgive me."


    Ion nodded and moved to sit at the edge of the half-circle. Fafon followed but made sure to position himself at the opposite end.


    Hutu scanned the area, his disappointment evident, before turning and striding back into the pool. Gradually, his figure disappeared into the shadowed depths, leaving only faint ripples to mark his presence.


    Paty clapped his hands sharply, the sound cutting through the lingering tension. "Now that that¡¯s settled, let¡¯s all calm down and get along." His sharp gaze bore down on Ion and Fafon, compelling them to avert their eyes. Satisfied, he began tapping his thigh thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. Ion, didn¡¯t you say you were with Sax?"


    "Yes," Ion replied, glancing at a wisp of smoke rising westward. "I was helping him prepare the elafiot¨¦ras¡¯s meat."


    "Good. Keep at it," Paty said, nodding firmly. "We can¡¯t afford to waste any of it, especially¡ª" He stopped abruptly, his gaze snapping past the group. "The ancestors be praised¡­ the Hunt Master returns."


    Ion turned, his gaze landing on the Hunt Master as he strode toward them, Char trailing at his side.


    Faon shot to his feet, his gaze drilling into Char. "What''s he doing here?" he demanded.


    "I called him," the Hunt Master replied evenly, his sharp gaze fixed on Fafon. Char dipped his head respectfully as he stepped past the Hunt Master, settling quietly beside Ion.


    Fafon''s eyes narrowed. "But someone needs to watch the forest," he protested, his tone rising.


    "My word is final," the Hunt Master said, his voice low, warning Fafon to submit. Their gazes clashed momentarily before Fafon slowly looked away, his fists trembling.


    Puty cleared his throat, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "You were out longer than usual," he remarked, tone measured. "Was there trouble?"


    The Hunt Master didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, his piercing gaze sweeping over the group. "Where is Sax?" he asked.


    "Tending to the meat," Ion replied promptly.


    The Hunt Master¡¯s gaze swept left, lingering thoughtfully around the circle. He fixed his eyes on a lean hunter and gave a subtle nod. "Lak, fetch him. Everyone needs to be here for this."


    "Someone has to watch the meat," Puty interjected, concern edging his voice. "We can¡¯t let it char."


    "I won''t take long," the Hunt Master said, pinching the bridge of his nose, weariness creeping into his tone.


    Lak rose silently, nodding once at the Hunt Master before slipping out of the circle and vanishing into the darkness. Before long, he reappeared, Sax silently trailing behind him. Lak returned to his position without a word, leaving Sax standing at the circle¡¯s edge, his eyes darting nervously around.


    The Hunt Master lowered himself to the ground, folding his legs and resting his hands on his knees.


    "Hunt Master," Ion said, warily glancing toward the pool. "Hutu isn¡¯t here. Should we be doing this without him?"


    A wave of murmurs rippled through the circle, but the Hunt Master raised a hand, silencing them instantly. "Trust me¡ªhe can hear us," he replied, his tone firm.


    Leaning forward, the Hunt Master¡¯s gaze hardened, his posture wound and tense. "Alright," he began, his voice low and deliberate. "I¡¯m not sure how many of you noticed, but there¡¯s a disturbance in the forest." His eyes swept the circle, locking briefly with each huntsman, ensuring they grasped the gravity of his words. "Nothing seemed out of place, but I felt it¡ªa chilling strangeness." A tremor ran through his body. "That feeling, it... compelled me to investigate." His hands squeezed into fists. "Instead of returning after marking the blood trail, I ventured inward."


    "And?" Puty interjected, his sharp tone cutting through the silence. "What did you find?"


    The Hunt Master slowly lifted his gaze, meeting Puty¡¯s stare without flinching. "A stampede."


    His words hung in the air, weighing down the atmosphere. A silence fell over the group as the Hunt Master paused, letting the weight of his revelation sink in. Finally, he continued, his voice measured. "Countless beasts surged from the forest''s depths and raced outward, leaving nothing apart from a trail of destruction in their wake. I felt the tremors before they reached me and managed to climb a tree for safety, but..." His voice faltered briefly as he shook his head. "That was an experience unlike any I''ve ever had."


    "So?"


    The Hunt Master''s body loosened, sensing an overwhelming presence behind him. Slowly, he turned.


    "Where beast?" Hutu asked, his deep voice cutting through the air. He stood tall, hands planted firmly on his hips as he stared down at the Hunt Master.


    "Returned to the depths," the Hunt Master replied evenly. "Some of the braver ones have already begun their journey back."


    With a grunt, Hutu dropped onto the ground, his massive frame settling with a resounding thud. Arms crossed over his chest, he muttered, "Pity."


    "Is that all?" Puty¡¯s sharp tone broke through, his narrowed eyes scrutinizing the Hunt Master¡¯s face.


    The Hunt Master turned to meet Puty¡¯s gaze, his expression stonelike. "Yes, that is all," he replied firmly.


    Puty¡¯s eyes narrowed further, but he held his tongue. He leaned back and shut his eyes, withdrawing from the discussion.


    "So, what¡¯s the plan? Do we leave the forest?" Lak cautiously asked, the firelight casting shadows about his face.


    The Hunt Master shook his head. "No. I¡¯m not certain it¡¯s safe yet. I¡¯ll monitor the forest. Once the majority of the animals return, we¡¯ll leave. Until then, focus on finishing the preparations." His gaze settled on Fafon. "You and Puty, gather grass and hemp¡ªwe¡¯re out of rope. Suio, Reo, join Char in keeping watch over the forest. The rest of you, stay on standby."


    He rose and swept his gaze around the circle. "No one leaves the cave unless it¡¯s absolutely necessary. And if you must, stay vigilant."


    <div>


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    <div>


    The Hunt Master turned and walked toward Hutu as the hunters dispersed. Lowering himself beside him, he kept his gaze on the pool.


    "Welcome," Hutu growled, giving his back a firm pat.


    "I''m back," the Hunt Master quietly replied, his eyes slowly closing.

 chapter 5

    Deep within the forest, with Squire Charles at their head, a procession of four white-robed men pressed forward along an untraveled, uneven trail. Their pace was determined by the movement of a six-legged creature they surrounded, the weight of the satchels and bags strapped over its frame hindering its speed.


    Ancient, gnarled trees loomed on all sides, their twisted branches intertwining to form a dense canopy that draped thick shadows over the procession. An unusual atmosphere surrounded the group, a sense of unease that left them tense and rigid. trailing


    They entered a section of hanging vines when, without warning, Charles raised a clenched fist. Seeing the signal, the men quickly unstrapped the large tower shields from their backs, the leather straps slipping free with a sharp tug. They swung the heavy shields into place and tightened their grips around the hilts of their weapons, ready for the signal to move. Heavy and taut silence fell, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves.


    Charles carefully unsheathed his sword, the faint rasp of metal cutting through the silence. His eyes swept the woods, searching for the slightest hint of movement. Moments later, he lowered his sword before sheathing it.


    <div>


    The men relaxed, swinging their shields over their shoulders and strapping them into place.


    At the rear, one man slipped as he clambered over a boulder. "What kind of stress is this?" he groaned, his irritation evident. Lifting his foot, he revealed a boot caked in dung. He bent to pick up a leaf, muttering as he scraped it clean. "Why did we have to come here? It''s not even our quest."


    Another man turned and shot him a glare. "Shut it, Ihsan. What if he''s still around?"


    "Knight M¨¹ller? "Bilal, you know he went ahead of us a while ago." Ihsan straightened up and scoffed, gesturing wildly toward the lumbering creature at their center. "Leaving us to shepherd this... beast."


    "Imagine that," a man further up the line muttered. "That prick had the nerve to say we were slowing him down when he''s the one who insisted on bringing it." He spat on the ground before crushing it underfoot. "Some Knight he is, doesn''t even realize some animals aren''t meant for this terrain. Why does he think we don¡¯t use them?"


    Ihsan chuckled. "Well, Aayan, there''s always the matter of coin."


    Aayan bristled, lightly punching Ihsan in the arm. "What are you suggesting? That I¡¯m broke?"


    Bilal laughed, slinging an arm over Aayan''s shoulder. "With how much Ihsan''s taken off you, that seems likely."


    "Come on!" Aayan objected, shrugging off Bilal¡¯s arm with a huff. "So I''ve been on a losing streak. Bonus day¡¯s coming up¡ªI¡¯ll recover it all then."


    "I couldn''t care less about that right now," Ihsan muttered, patting his empty stomach. "I just wish we had something to eat."


    "Yeah, well, maybe if we hadn¡¯t lost our supplies in the stampede, that wouldn¡¯t have to be a wish," Bilal shot back.


    Suddenly, Charles turned sharply, pinning the men with a scalding glare. "Do any of you have a shred of self-awareness? Don''t you know where we are?" He gestured broadly toward the surrounding woods. "Stay vigilant. Anyanwu knows what might be watching, just waiting for us to slip."


    The men stiffened, their eyes darting nervously to the darkened tree line. They slowly backed away from the woods, their confidence dissipating as they stared at the deep, tumultuous shadows.


    Aayan forced a chuckle, trying to dispel the unease as he resumed his march. "What¡¯s this, fear? Ihsan, Bilal, did his words shrivel your livers?" His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword, seeking reassurance in its familiar grip.


    Bilal licked his lips, brushing aside a cluster of hanging vines. "Left mine behind after that stampede." He shivered at the memory. "I really thought I was done for."


    Ihsan gave his shield a thankful pat. "Probably would¡¯ve been, if not for these."


    Bilal nodded grimly. "I¡¯ll never complain during shield drills again."


    Squire Charles glanced back, his expression tightening. "Squire Aayan, Bilal, Ihsan¡ªyou still have energy for jokes. Good." He nodded toward the trail ahead, where it steepened into a jagged rock face. "The steed won¡¯t make it up on its own. Get ready to hoist it."


    Ignoring their muttered grumbles, Charles turned to the incline. He exhaled slowly before placing a steady hand against the rough surface, seeking purchase as he began his climb.


    His face hardened with each step, thoughts slipping to the men below. "Always frivolous," he muttered, fingers curling around the rock''s edge. "Even if they don''t understand their duty, I do."


    Charles hauled himself onto the ledge, then turned to beckon the men below. "Its front limbs can reach. Lead it forward¡ªforce it if you have to."


    The men worked to maneuver the creature, leaving Squire Charles to watch from above. A chill raced up his spine, and he snapped around, instinctively drawing his hand to the hilt of his sword. His sharp gaze swept the gloomy and overshadowed forest, attempting to pierce its depths. There it is again¡ªthat strange presence. He rubbed the back of his neck, a shiver crawling up his spine. "Is it just my imagination?" he muttered.


    <hr>


    I''m surrounded.


    Knight M¨¹ller froze, the chilling realization gripping him. His eyes darted through the dense woods, tracking the wispy, shifting shadows. Four? No... five beasts. His hand twitched toward his sword, but he held back. Not yet.


    In one swift motion, he leaped onto the bough of a nearby tree. The wood groaned faintly beneath his weight before he launched forward, bounding from tree to tree. His movements were quick and precise, his sharp gaze flicking to the blurs of motion at the edges of his vision.


    A smirk curled his lips as he spotted a clearing ahead. Perfect. He sprang across three more branches before bursting from the trees, descending gracefully into the open space.


    Upon landing, M¨¹ller spread his feet apart, his right foot slightly forward, knees bent to promote stability. With a fluid motion, he drew his sword, gripping the hilt with both hands. The blade hovered parallel to his chest, the tip angled forward. His breath remained steady as his eyes swept the clearing, instantly mapping every detail.


    GRRRR! A low, guttural growl reverberated through the space. M¨¹ller shuffled back as the beasts emerged from the tree line, their low growls echoing around the clearing. More wolverines? This forest seems full of them. He kept his dominant foot forward, his stance firm as his gaze roved over the pack, cataloging their every movement. Across his countenance, a wide, unnerving smile stretched, his body trembling with barely contained excitement.


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    Suddenly, one sprang forward, its massive paws pounding the earth, eyes gleaming with reckless intent. The Knight held his ground, his body loose yet poised, watching, waiting.


    Just as the beast lunged, M¨¹ller''s gaze sharpened. He surged forward, his right foot stepping out while his rear foot slid diagonally to maintain balance. His focus locked on the creature¡¯s neck, his sword blurring as it rose to shoulder height. He unleashed a sweeping diagonal slash, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp whistle on its way to the target.


    M¨¹ller sidestepped, allowing the beast to hurtle past him. He swiftly turned, his gaze falling on the large frame of the wolverine sprawled lifeless on the ground, blood spurting in rhythmic bursts from a clean slash across its throat.


    He swiveled to face the remaining beasts, his smirk widening as he caught the glint of fear in their eyes. Slowly, M¨¹ller spread his feet, raising his blade until it hovered parallel to his chest. "Should I wait for them," he mused, fingers tapping his hilt, "or take the fight to them?"


    His figure blurred, vanishing in an instant. He reappeared beside the farthest wolverine, catching it mid-step. Before it could react, M¨¹ller''s sword drove forward, burying to the hilt in its side. He smiled, savoring the creature¡¯s anguished roar as he pulled free. Of course, he thought, watching it stagger and collapse. I''ll take the fight to them.


    <hr>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    The Hunt Master cast a final glance around the cave, his eyes lingering briefly on the shimmering oasis before he turned and stepped into the open air. Outside, the hunters silently stood, hands gripping grass sacks and leather packs, their faces hardened with readiness. He motioned to Hutu. "Seal it."


    Hutu grunted in acknowledgment, moving past him to a massive boulder a short distance away. He placed his hands against its rough surface and heaved, the force force required bulging his veins.


    The boulder briefly inched forward, scraping against the ground with a low growl. But as momentum built, it glided into place, sealing the cave entrance from view.


    "All right, let''s move." The Hunt Master bent down, slinging a hefty sack over his shoulder.


    "Wait!"


    He paused mid-step, turning his sharp gaze on Puty. "Yes?"


    "I need a word with you," Puty said, his voice steady but firm as he stepped forward.


    The Hunt Master studied him, noting his serious expression. With a sigh, he waved the rest of the hunters on. "Relieve Lak. We''ll catch up shortly."


    The men disappeared around the bend, leaving the two alone. Puty stepped to the side and settled onto a nearby rock, his movements slow and deliberate. "What are you hiding?"


    A rueful smile crossed the Hunt Master¡¯s face as he sank onto a rock across from him, the sack dropping with a light thud. "You catch everything, don¡¯t you, old man?"


    Puty chuckled, his fingers idly stroking his beard. "A good scout has to."


    The Hunt Master¡¯s smile faded, his expression darkening. "Would you believe me if I said there¡¯s nothing wrong?"


    The old man''s brow furrowed. "Not for an instant."


    The Hunt Master exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I didn¡¯t think so. I saw a skoteinos."


    Puty froze, his hand stilling mid-stroke. "Skoteinos'' aren¡¯t real. They¡¯re just stories to scare children." His voice lowered, his gaze biting. "You know that as well as I do."


    "That doesn''t change what I saw," the Hunt Master said, his tone clipped. His brows knitted as he massaged his temple. "It looked exactly as the tales describe¡ªlarge and menacing, rows of razor-sharp teeth, and those cursed white eyes that seem to strip away your soul."


    Puty¡¯s gaze turned distant. "Sounds horrifying."


    The Hunt Master let out a weary sigh. "Horrifying doesn¡¯t even begin to cover it."


    Puty rose from the rock, his movements deliberate as he began pacing away. "What do you suggest we do?"


    The Hunt Master stood, hefting the grass sack onto his shoulder. "What else? We inform the Elder."


    "Do you think he¡¯ll believe us?"


    A low chuckle escaped the Hunt Master as he rounded the bend. "Who do you think started those tales?"


    They regrouped with the hunters, and under the Hunt Master''s lead, they began their journey through the forest. Each path was meticulously scouted to avoid unwanted skirmishes with its animalistic denizens. Before long, they reached the forest''s edge, where the dense canopy gave way to an open expanse.


    As they approached, the men unconsciously slowed, their eyes widening in wonder at the strange sight before them: an empty gap stretched between the main forest and a thick outer ring of trees. The divide, blanketed in short grass and dotted with scattered mushrooms, extended endlessly in both directions, forming a natural boundary that defied explanation.


    Ignoring the awe-struck younger hunters, the Hunt Master crouched low in the foliage, his sharp eyes scanning the gap for any signs of danger. Once satisfied it was safe, he straightened and motioned for the men to follow.


    One by one, the hunters stepped out of the forest, squinting as they emerged from the cool shade into the open light.


    The Hunt Master tilted his head to the sky, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The breeze swept over him, the feeling of freedom igniting a flicker of contentment. While some lingered hesitantly at the tree line, he strode forward with purpose, eager to leave the confines of the trees behind.


    As they neared the outer ring, the Hunt Master¡¯s pace slowed. His grip on the sack loosened, and with deliberate care, he crouched low. Opening it, he revealed its grisly contents: a heart, dark and sticky with clotted blood, another blackened and oozing foul liquid. A brain lay green and sunken, while another had rotted into a slimy mass crawling with maggots.


    Unbothered by the rancid smell, the Hunt Master handled each organ with shaking hands and a reverent gaze, arranging them carefully on the grass.


    The hunters moved into a half-circle around him, silent observers as the Hunt Master began a deep, rumbling chant. The guttural sounds echoed briefly before fading into stillness, leaving only the whistling wind in their wake.


    Standing tall, the Hunt Master clasped his hands before him and called out, his voice firm and solemn. "As we have taken, so do we return."


    The Hunt Master stepped back, his gaze fixed on the earth as it swallowed the organs, the ground sealing shut above them. A low tremor rippled beneath their feet, quickly building into a steady, violent quake. Yet the hunters stood firm, their feet braced hard against the shifting earth.


    Suddenly, the trees ahead began to stir, their trunks groaning as they shifted aside, parting narrowly to reveal an open path for the hunters to pass through.


    The Hunt Master smiled as a waft of dry, dusty air hit him, the sensation against his skin comforting and familiar. Slowly, the hunters passed through the opening, squinting as they shaded their eyes to block out the sun''s harsh glare.


    He waited until the last man had passed before picking up the empty sack. Turning back to the forest, he lingered for a moment¡ªextremely relieved, yet sad at leaving. With a deep sigh, he turned before stepping through the gap, the trees groaning softly as they creaked back into place behind him.


    A vast expanse of sand stretched before him, rolling dunes that reached toward the distant horizon. The shimmering heat waves danced in the air, distorting the edges of the landscape. Simultaneously dropping their loads, each hunter whistled a unique tune that echoed clearly into the desert, carried by the wind.


    Moments later, a bump appeared in the distant sand. Initially small, it grew rapidly as it streaked toward them. The surface bulged and shifted, rippling with waves of displaced grains. Soon, more trails emerged, weaving through the dunes and converging on their position.


    Suddenly, the first creature burst from the sand with an explosion of grit, its body gleaming with an oily, segmented carapace that shimmered in shades of deep bronze and black. The creature¡¯s body was long, each segment flexing with a fluid precision as it twisted through the air. Thin, spindly appendages tipped with curved claws clawed at the air, scattering grains of sand like mist.


    The Hunt Master laughed, stepping aside as the creature landed and burrowed back into the earth. All around, similar scenes unfolded as the hunters reunited with their companions. His gaze swept the group, his wide smile reflecting their shared exhilaration. I never tire of this moment, the reunion with the chthonidra.


    He pursed his lips and let out a low, sharp whistle, the sound cutting through the desert air.


    The bump emerged again, but only the upper section of the chthonidra broke through the sand. The creature widened its mandible-like jaws, revealing rows of serrated teeth glinting faintly in the light. The Hunt Master reached out, lightly rubbing the chthonidra''s head in slow, concentric circles before carefully inserting his hand into its maw. Swiftly, he withdrew his arm, clutching a bundle of white garments. He placed them on the sand and thrust his hand back inside, retrieving a folded wooden board, a leather bridle, and reins.


    Unfolding the board, the Hunt Master assembled it into a sled and quickly and efficiently attached the bridle and reins to the chthonidra. As he finished, he glanced at the other hunters, each engaged in their preparations. "Hurry up," he called out, stooping to gather the garments. "We¡¯ve got a lot of ground to cover."


    He unfurled the fabric to reveal a thin long robe, then turned his gaze to the horizon, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the endless desert. "We¡¯ve been gone long enough."

 chapter 6

    "Kohtalo, wake up."


    A young girl¡¯s eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light of the chamber. Her gaze shifted to a faint glow at the room''s far end.


    A shadowed figure stood at the entrance, holding a lantern that cast flickering light across the walls. He coughed harshly, clearing his throat. "Do you need more rest, Kohtalo?"


    She shook her head and carefully rose from a fur rug. "No, I¡¯m ready."


    The man raised the lantern higher, revealing a face lined with age and wear. His voice rasped as he turned toward the passage ahead. "Then let¡¯s go. There¡¯s much to do."


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    They moved through branching tunnels, their footsteps soft against the stone, until they stopped abruptly and turned left.


    Before them stood a crooked wooden door, its surface rough and splintered. Kohtalo pressed a hand against it and pushed, the hinges groaning softly as the door opened. She stepped inside, the man close behind her.


    The room they entered was circular and modestly furnished. Two cushions were on the floor, several clay pots and bowls were neatly arranged on a stone shelf, and a carved set of drawers was tucked against the wall.


    The old man''s robes billowed as he settled onto a cushion, his strained joint protesting the movement. He sighed and set the lantern down before turning to Kohtalo. "Bring the small mortar and pestle."


    The girl nodded and went to the shelf. She carefully lifted the pestle¡ªa club-shaped tool¡ªand a stone bowl, the mortar. Cradling the items in her arms, she brought them to the old man and set them gently on the stone floor.


    The man gazed at Kohtalo steadily, waiting for her to sit across from him before speaking. "Sore throat, ten cycles old," he said, folding his arms. "What ingredients are needed?"


    Kohtalo hesitated for a moment. "Glyk¨®riza, M¨¦li, Piper¨®riza."


    He rested his hands beneath his chin, nodding slightly. "Your reasoning?"


    "Piper¨®riza is for relieving sore throats and perhaps nausea. Since the recipient is ten, she''ll need the M¨¦li for any injuries and to calm her cough when she sleeps."


    The old man closed his eyes briefly and nodded. "And the Glyk¨®riza?"


    Kohtalo shrugged her shoulders. "For headaches, maybe?"


    The man softly chuckled, tremors running through his body. "A good combination. The only thing I''d add would be dyosmos¡ªto reduce any irritation." His laughs transitioned into coughs leading him to restrain himself. "Ok, begin preparing it."


    Kohtalo nodded and stood up. The old man drew a water pouch from under his robe and motioned for her to come closer. He tilted the pouch and had her meticulously wash her hands over the running water. She walked to the drawer after she finished and swiftly removed the required ingredients with practiced ease. A combination of wooden jars, bowls, and leather pouches were withdrawn, some returned after a brief inspection while the rest were kept. She gathered the selected items, closed the drawer, and returned to her seat. After shaking a sampling of piper¨®riza and dyosmos into the mortar, she ground the green and brown powders together.


    "Take care not to over-add," the old man remarked, his eyes occasionally flicking open to observe her work. Kohtalo nodded her understanding, setting the pestle down as she slowly added the Glyk¨®riza.


    Once satisfied with the mixture, Kohtalo opened a jar and carefully poured honey into the mortar. She stirred the contents thoroughly, ensuring the mixture was uniform, before transferring it into a bowl.


    Kohtalo carried the bowl to the man, her movements slow and deliberate to avoid spilling the mixture. She set it down before the man and then returned to her cushion.


    The old man dipped a finger into the sticky mixture and tasted it, his expression thoughtful. ¡°Hmmm,¡± he murmured, letting the mixture coat his throat. ¡°It¡¯s good. Set it aside¡ªKipu will come to collect it.¡± He handed the bowl back to Kohtalo, wiping the remnants of the paste from his fingers. ¡°On to the next. The patient is twenty cycles old. The same considerations apply, but make it much stronger than normal¡ª¡±


    Suddenly, his words trailed off. His gaze became unfocused, his eyes glossing over.


    Noticing his silence, Kohtalo slowly turned to him, careful of the bowl in her hand. "Elder?"


    The Elder''s eyelids shut before reopening moments later, focused and alert. "The men have left the forest."


    Kohtalo set the bowl on the shelf. "Oh, really?" she said, her tone distant, her gaze wandering toward the room''s entrance.


    The Elder stretched his left arm out, grasping faintly at the air. ¡°The hunt appears successful,¡± he murmured. His hand fell to his side, his lips curling into a low chuckle. ¡°Kohtalo, the Hunt Master didn¡¯t fail us. They hunted down an elafiot¨¦ras.¡±


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    Kohtalo whipped around to face the Elder, her pale cheeks flushed. ¡°That¡¯s incredible! We¡¯ll have enough marrow to last seven more cycles.¡±


    The Elder squinted, his eyes glazing over once more. ¡°Go to the drawer,¡± he instructed, his brows bunching. ¡°Think carefully about what you¡¯ll use in the mixture. Come to me once you¡¯ve decided.¡±


    The Elder closed his eyes, his thoughts racing as Kohtalo began her work.


    <hr>


    Kipu, come.


    A young man stood dazed in a field of golden crops, their dandelion hue vivid against the arid desert backdrop. He wore a white robe and a scarf-like fabric wrapped around his head, secured by a black band. Shaking his head, he tried to push the intrusive thought from his mind.


    "Kipu, are you ok?"


    A woman approached from his left, a stone hoe in her hand. Carefully parting the plants, her gaze softened with concern as she neared him.


    "Yeah," Kipu responded with a sharp nod. He squatted and grasped for a hoe he had dropped, attempting a bright smile as he straightened. "Just lost focus for a moment."


    "Are you sure?" she asked, raising a hand to his forehead.


    "Like I said, Jol¡ªyes, I am," Kipu replied, stepping away from her reach. He slowly backed through the crops, his steps deliberate through the crops. "Anyway, I need to go. The Elder summoned me," he added, turning abruptly and striding away.


    Jol''s face tightened with worry. "Do you need me to come with you?"


    "No," Kipu called over his shoulder, quickening his pace. "I can manage on my own." He weaved through the plants, edging closer to the field¡¯s edge. Breaking free of the crops, he squinted, scanning the horizon.


    The landscape stretched endlessly before him¡ªrolling dunes and vast expanses of sand, painted in monotonous shades of brown. Pulling down his scarf to shield his eyes from the sun¡¯s glare, he turned left and pushed forward, keeping the field within sight.


    A short while later, the sound of running water reached his ears. Kipu raised his head and looked ahead. A stream cut through the desert''s desolation, its waters shimmering against the barren landscape. Beyond the stream, a scattering of buildings stood, their dark brown color blending with the surroundings, making them nearly invisible. A bridge stretched across the stream, connecting both sides.


    Kipu trudged the remaining distance and stepped onto the rope bridge. He crossed quickly to the other side and headed toward the nearest structure. The sun-baked building had dark brown walls, their rough, uneven surface marked by cracks and faint handprints pressed into the bricks. A leather covering hung over the entrance, serving as a shield against the elements.


    <div>


    Reaching the covering, Kipu pulled it aside and stepped into the building. With no windows to admit light, darkness enveloped him, save for the faint glow seeping through the gap beneath the entrance. His gaze swept the mud-brick walls, which held shelves laden with tools and assorted items.


    He exited the building after storing the hoe and walked deeper into the settlement, passing several structures of similar design. Despite the distance he had covered, Kipu hadn¡¯t encountered another living soul. That changed as he approached a large building¡ªnearly triple the size of the others¡ªwhere the sounds of squeals and laughter reached his ears.


    ¡°Gyu, stop running! Qio, let go of Brie¡¯s hair! Children, settle down!¡±


    A faint smile crossed Kipu¡¯s face as he neared the building¡¯s entrance.


    Suddenly, the leather curtain jerked aside, and a small figure hurtled out, nearly bowling Kipu over.


    Kipu instinctively caught the child, his arms wrapping around him as he took a steadying step back. Holding the squirming figure at arm¡¯s length, he squinted down. ¡°Gyu. I should have known.¡±


    The boy grinned up at him, a gap in his teeth showing. ¡°Kipu! You¡¯re back!¡± He lunged forward again, burying his face in Kipu¡¯s robe.


    The leather covering once again flew open, and a disheveled woman rushed out. ¡°Children, stay still! I need to find Gyu¡ªoh, Kipu. Gyu, there you are!¡±


    Gyu darted behind Kipu, using him as a convenient shield.


    The woman groaned in frustration. She raised her head and turned pleading eyes toward Kipu.


    Kipu sighed, reaching behind to grab Gyu by the arm and pulling him forward.


    The boy squealed, squirming in protest. "Kipu, you traitor!"


    The woman shook her head in mild disapproval and gently took Gyu¡¯s hand. "Gyu, don¡¯t say that. It¡¯s not respectful." She bent down and whispered into his ear, "Calm down, and I¡¯ll tell you one of my stories later."


    Gyu¡¯s struggles subsided. His gaze narrowed suspiciously. "Which one?"


    She flicked his ear with a playful smirk. "Oh, perhaps your favorite¡ªThe Mortal and the Monster."


    Instantly, the child''s protests ceased, and he became more compliant.


    The woman¡¯s tense expression eased as she lightly turned him toward the entrance. "Now go inside. I¡¯ll be right behind you."


    With a quick nod, Gyu rushed into the building.


    She let out a long sigh of relief once he disappeared. "Kipu, I love kids, but I¡¯m at my limit. I don¡¯t know how long I can fight off sleep."


    Kipu gave her a sympathetic glance, patting her lightly on the back. "Just hold out a little longer, Maxi. The others will be done in the field soon. You¡¯ll get a break then."


    Straightening her posture, she patted her robe and hair, trying to regain composure. "Anyway, where were you heading? Shouldn¡¯t you still be with them?"


    "I was summoned," Kipu said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Do you have any water?"


    Maxi¡¯s hand moved to her waist, her expression apologetic. "I think so... but I left my pouch inside. Wait here." She disappeared into the building and returned moments later, holding a large leather pouch. "Here you go."


    Kipu raised the pouch and drank deeply, the cool water soothing his parched throat. Once satisfied, he returned it and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.


    Maxi smiled softly, holding the entrance covering open. "When you get back, will you return to the field?"


    Kipu shrugged. "Depends on what the Elder wants."


    "Well, if you¡¯re free, could you help me?"


    He turned to leave, his voice trailing over his shoulder. "When I return."


    Maxi momentarily watched him before slipping back inside, greeted by the children¡¯s excited cries.


    As Kipu rounded the building, he pulled off his scarf, revealing damp blonde hair clinging to his skin. The settlement ended here; no more buildings lay ahead. He squinted against a sudden gust of wind, raising a hand to shield his face. Finding shade by the wall, he crouched, letting his hair fall around his face.


    "Ok children, settle down."


    Kipu glanced up at a small window, the children''s giggles and shuffles drifting out from within.


    "Quiet down, let me begin," Maxi continued, her tone light and calm.


    Kipu leaned against the wall, his gaze drifting to the dunes beyond.


    Maxi¡¯s voice softened, her words flowing through the window. "The Mortal and the Monster. A tale of two from different worlds, separated by fate, yet united by love."


    Kipu exhaled deeply, rose to his feet, and adjusted his scarf. He cast a fleeting glance at the window. The story would have to wait; he had somewhere else to be.


    Kipu pulled his scarf up against the dusty wind and stepped into the desert, his strides measured as the wind swirled the sand around him.

 chapter 7

    The hunters raced across the arid desert atop sleds, their reins fastened to chthonidras burrowing beneath the sand. They sped through the sweltering heat, clouds of dust and dirt erupting in their wake.


    The Hunt Master led the group across the dunes, carving a path through the shifting sands toward their destination¡ªa palm-frond oasis shimmering in the heat. He reined in sharply, bringing the chthonidra to a brisk stop. Without pause, he leaped from the sled, unfastened the bridle and reins, tucking them into the chthonidra''s stomach. As the other hunters arrived, he withdrew his hand from the creature¡¯s slimy, convulsing innards and signaled them to do the same.


    He briefly glanced around the oasis, confirming its safety before turning to address the group. "We''ll rest here," he announced, his voice firm and steady. "Sax, Char, Ion, set up the tent and bring some food. The rest of you will keep watch."


    The Hunt Master''s gaze lingered on Puty and Hutu before raising his hand to beckon them forward. Silently, the three hunters broke away, moving a short distance into the desert.


    Ion removed the bridle, glancing sideways as the Hunt Master stepped beyond the oasis''s radius. He tugged absentmindedly at a strand of hair, sighing deeply as he stowed the sled and bridle. His fingers gently stroked the chthonidra''s rough mandible before he gave a sharp whistle, dismissing it.


    Ion rose to his feet and dusted off his robe, his gaze searching for either Sax or Char.


    Ion rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his robe. His gaze swept over the surroundings, searching for either Sax or Char, eyes darting between the scattering of hunters.


    Suddenly, a commotion erupted among a circle of hunters closest to the oasis, their gazes fixed on something in their midst. Ion''s eyes narrowed as curiosity took hold, and he began striding toward them to see what had captured their attention.


    As he rounded the group, a groan escaped him. His gaze landed on Char.


    He wrestled with his chthonidra, struggling to unbridle the uncooperative creature. It jerked its head violently, resisting his efforts, claws digging into the dirt as it attempted to burrow back into the ground.


    The hunters laughed, jeering at Char as he fought to maintain control.


    "Rub her head," Suio called, demonstrating with quick hand gestures. "That works with mine."


    "No, no," Reo objected, shaking his head. "Stroke her mandibles. That calms them down."


    "Just knock her on the head; show who''s boss!" another shouted.


    "Stare into her eyes," a fourth suggested, his tone serious despite his twinkling eyes.


    Their voices meshed in a chaotic cacophony, each hunter certain their method was superior.


    Char¡¯s movements grew more erratic as the chthonidra thrashed and twisted. Beads of sweat traced down his temple, and as if sensing Ion''s presence he glanced up, eyes wide and pleading.


    Ion hesitated for just a moment before stepping forward.


    ¡°Hold her head down,¡± Char instructed in a hushed voice as Ion squatted beside him, his hands already moving into place. Char focused on fiddling with the bridle, his fingers clumsy and rushed.


    Ion complied, pressing the chthonidra¡¯s head firmly against the ground, straining against her resistance. Relief washed over him as Char finally removed the bridle.


    The moment of satisfaction was short-lived. The chthonidra seized the opportunity, jerking free from Ion¡¯s grasp. Before either could react, it tunneled underground in a blur of movement and vanished.


    The Hunters groaned in unison, their exclamations and teasing remarks rippling through the group as they gradually dispersed.


    Char flung the bridle onto the ground with a frustrated grunt before sinking heavily onto the sand.


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    Ion dropped beside him, stretching his legs out with a sigh. "Still struggling with her?"


    Char tiredly rubbed his eyes. "She can''t decide whether to listen or fight me. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing wrong. It shouldn¡¯t be this hard. No one else has it this bad."


    Ion pushed himself to his feet and extended a hand. "Relax. You¡¯ll get the hang of it," he said, his smile warm.


    Char''s lips curved up as he clasped Ion¡¯s hand, letting himself pull him upright. "Yeah. You¡¯re right."


    Ion''s gaze flitted around the oasis before settling on Sax struggling with the camp setup. He nodded toward the scene. "Let¡¯s go. Looks like Sax could use some help¡ªhe keeps looking over."


    Char started forward but paused, glancing back at the pile of dusty sledding items. "Where should I keep them?" he queried, lightly brushing a speck of grim of the reins. "I doubt the chthonidra will come if I try summoning it again."


    Ion waved a hand dismissively as he strode ahead. "Just leave it by a tree or rock. It¡¯ll be fine."


    Char nodded his confirmation, grabbing the items before safely stashing them away.


    <hr>


    Kipu stood before a jagged opening, its sides framed by worn, smooth rocks. Thin trails of sand trickled down its sides, carried by the desert wind. He raised his scarf against a sudden gust before starting down the cave, into a sloping tunnel.


    A few steps into the passage, Kipu was thrust into darkness, the shadows consuming the minuscule light trickling from the entrance. Nonetheless, he continued down, a guiding hand placed against the smooth rock surface of the wall.


    As Kipu walked down the passage, a faint light appeared ahead, growing brighter with each step. As the tunnel opened into a cavern, the soft glow of a lantern at its center revealed a slight, frail figure seated silently before its light.


    Despite Kipu''s entry, the figure didn''t turn around. Instead, they kept their gaze trained past the lantern, at a passage at the opposite end, muttering softly.


    "Kohtalo?" Kipu called, walking forward and tapping her shoulder.


    Kohtalo jumped in fright and turned sharply. "Kipu!" she exclaimed, stepping back. "Don''t scare me like that."


    Kipu smiled and ruffled her hair. "I''ll do as I like, but more importantly..." He put his hands on her shoulders. Who were you talking to?"


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kohtalo said, brushing her hair back and avoiding his eyes.


    Kipu tilted her chin to face him. ¡°You were saying something when I came in. Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t hear you.¡±


    Kohtalo swallowed and let out a nervous giggle. ¡°Oh, that,¡± she mumbled, her fingers fidgeting with her hair. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. The Elder was just here. You probably heard me talking to him.¡±


    Kipu fixed her with a disbelieving gaze. "Really? Your voice didn''t seem loud enough for¡ª"


    ¡°Oh!¡± Kohtalo interrupted, her voice rising as she backed away. ¡°The Elder left something for you. I¡¯ll go get it!¡± Without waiting for a response, she darted into the passage, her voice echoing faintly as she called, ¡°Wait here!¡±


    She returned moments later with a small grass basket. As Kipu accepted it, he reached inside and withdrew a pouch marked with numeric symbols, tracing them with his fingers as he turned it over.


    Kohtalo bent to pick up the lantern and turned to Kipu. ¡°You know you have to be careful with this, right?¡± She reached into the basket and pulled out a small, furled scroll. ¡°This tells who gets what and how they¡¯re supposed to use it.¡± She carefully tucked the scroll back into the basket, her gaze momentarily flickered away before returning. ¡°Just... make sure each pouch goes to the right person, okay?¡± she finished, her voice trailing off.


    Kipu nodded, pushing the scroll deeper into the basket. He raised his head and frowned, his gaze lingering on her pale face and dull blonde hair. Gently, he brushed a strand from her cheek and frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. Are you okay?¡± he asked, his voice low and concern etched in his features.


    Kohtalo¡¯s eyes drifted past him, her gaze distant and unfocused. Slowly, her brows knit together, and her lips curved downward into a frown.


    Kipu gripped her shoulders and gave them a light shake, forcing her to meet his eyes. ¡°Kohtalo, didn¡¯t you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± she muttered, her fists clenching at her sides as her gaze flicked over his shoulder.


    Kipu turned and scanned the empty chamber, his brow furrowing. He looked back at her, his voice sharper. ¡°What are you looking at¡ª¡±


    Kohtalo¡¯s gaze snapped back to him, and she forced a strained smile. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± She stepped forward and gave him a light push. ¡°You should go now. I need to get back to the Elder and finish my work.¡±


    Kipu hesitated, lingering as he turned toward the tunnel. ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡±


    Kohtalo¡¯s grip tightened around the lantern¡¯s handle, her knuckles whitening. Through gritted teeth, she replied, ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine. Just a little pain in my head. It¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    Kipu frowned. ¡°I hope you told the Elder?¡±


    ¡°I will, once I¡¯m back,¡± she said quickly, her gaze drifting away again. She edged toward the opposite passage, her expression distant.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Kipu replied, nodding despite the lingering concern in his eyes. He turned and strode toward the tunnel. Within moments, his figure disappeared into the shadows.


    As the echoes of his footsteps faded, Kohtalo let out a long sigh of relief. Suddenly, mid-motion, Kohtalo paused. Her gaze darted to the left, narrowing. ¡°You think that was funny?¡± she hissed, her voice low and sharp. ¡°What was our deal?¡±


    The chamber was silent, but her eyes stayed fixed on the shadows. Her hands began to tremble. ¡°Never do that again,¡± she said curtly, her words clipped. ¡°I won¡¯t forgive you if you do.¡±


    Her head snapped forward, and with cheeks flushed with anger, she stormed into the tunnel, the lantern swinging at her side.

 chapter 8

    The trio of Ion, Sax, and Char had pitched a tent to protect themselves from the relentless desert sun. The hunters sat in a loose circle, resting beneath the tent''s canopy as they reclined on rugs and cushions. Laughter rippled through the group as they recalled stories of their most outlandish exploits.


    As the chatter lulled, Suio propped his head on one hand, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. He cast a glance at Lak. "Your turn, Lak," he drawled. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he added, "Dazzle us with one of your legendary hunts¡ªI could use a good nap."


    Lak stared blankly, his expression calm and unaffected. "They''re all the same," he began, his voice low and measured. "Find the trail of an animal¡ªbroken branches, tracks, or droppings¡ªthen follow it, studying its movements and patterns. Once you¡¯ve picked a good spot for the hunt, preferably along its path, report back." He paused, considering whether to add more, then closed his eyes. "It¡¯s always the same routine. Nothing exciting."


    Suio gave an exaggerated snort and jolted upright. "Oh, huh," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Already over? I wasn¡¯t even deep in."


    Puty cleared his throat sharply, fixing Suio with a pointed glare. "Enough."


    Suio raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. As an apology, I''ll regale you all with an account of my first hunt."


    Reclining once more with a mischievous grin, he began. "It was three cycles ago, back when Ion and Char were small, happy children," he said, nodding toward them. "I was sent into the forest with nothing and told I couldn''t return until I¡¯d hunted and brought back a beast."


    His arms moved animatedly, painting the scene in the air. "There I was¡ªno food, no weapon... nothing! But did I panic? Of course not. I smiled and foraged through the forest until I found a long, dry branch. Then, I journeyed to the river in search of a sharp stone, and after finding it, used it to whittle the branch into a spear."


    Lak, who had been quietly observing, interrupted, "Then you tracked down a lone erythrokeros left behind by its herd," he said, finger tapping a brisk rhythm on his thigh. "Apart from tracking down the beast faster, everything was the same as the rest of us... nothing exciting."


    Suio bristled up as a wave of laughter erupted around the group. Ion quietly observed the hunters'' interactions with one another, a slight smile on his face. His gaze drifted to the Hunt Master, who lay reclined on a fur rug, his expression calm and unreadable. Adjusting his position on a cushion, Ion momentarily hesitated before speaking, his voice cutting through the chatter. "What about you, Hunt Master? Do you have any tales to share?"


    The Hunt Master''s eyes slowly opened. "Tales?" he repeated.


    Ion swallowed under the growing quiet, acutely aware of the hunters'' collective focus. "Perhaps... your first hunt?"


    The Hunt Master let the silence stretch, his gaze fixed on Ion. Then, without warning, he sat upright and turned to face him fully. "I don''t tell tales. I tell history."


    Puty chortled, his cheeks puffing as his head dipped. "What an embarrassing thing to say."


    A gruff chuckle came from the tent¡¯s entrance. The Hunt Master¡¯s gaze shifted right, past the flapping tent cloth, settling on Hutu¡¯s hunched frame. His broad shoulders shook with laughter, clearly at the Hunt Master''s expense.


    "What are you laughing at?" the Hunt Master exclaimed, his eyes narrowing as they flitted between Puty and Hutu. "It''s your history too." He shook his head, then turned back to Ion. "Anyway, this was long before you were born¡ªabout twenty cycles ago." His gaze swept the circle, his expression distant. "Apart from Hutu and that old man Puty, none of you were even alive."


    "Tradition was the same back then," the Hunt Master said, scratching his chin thoughtfully, his words painting a vivid picture. "Well... with one key difference. Unlike now, when you''re left to wander and track prey near or far from the cave, back then, the prospective hunter was put to sleep and carried deep into a part of the forest they''d never seen before. If they managed to kill an animal, navigate the forest, and make their way back, they were deemed ready to join the hunters."


    His eyes grew sharp, and his hands clenched into fists. "Many of our people died that way, and it¡¯s because of those losses that we face the struggles we do now."


    Ion''s breath hooked. His tongue licked his dry lips. He could barely imagine the horror he would have felt, experiencing such a horror.


    For a moment, all was silent. The air hung heavy as the Hunt Master steadied himself. "No matter," he said finally, his voice calmer. "Hutu and I were the same age and took the test together. They put us to sleep and left us in some random location."


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    "When I woke up, I first saw Hutu, already awake and busy sharpening a branch into a spear. He must have been up for some time¡ªhe''d even scouted the area."


    The Hunt Master straightened his back before stroking his beard with a slight smile curving his lips. "I didn¡¯t want to intrude on the sanctity of his hunt, so I chose to part ways and begin preparations for mine."


    Puty raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Hah, you left because you didn¡¯t like him. You know as well as I that your relationship back then wasn¡¯t as good as it is now. Some historyteller you are, twisting it to suit you."


    "We were left in a rocky area with far fewer trees than usual," the Hunt Master continued, ignoring Puty''s words. "So, like Hutu, I crept through the underbrush, searching for fallen branches."


    "It would¡¯ve been easy to catch a small animal by setting a snare or digging a shallow pit. Technically, I¡¯d have been made a hunter if I returned with such a creature since it didn¡¯t break any rules¡ªbut it was unthinkable."


    He shook his head, a wry smile appearing on his face. "There was no written rule against it, but to return without pushing beyond your limits... it would¡¯ve been shameful. Back then, a hunter''s worth was measured by the difficulty of their hunt¡ªby facing a challenge greater than what they were accustomed to."


    "A different period," Lak commented thoughtfully.


    "A harsher period," Puty corrected, his expression somber.


    "Indeed," the Hunt Master murmured, his gaze growing distant and unfocused, his tone dropping as he shifted through memories. "I¡¯d chosen my prey long before."


    Fafon, previously silent, leaned forward. "What beast did you choose?" he inquired.


    The Hunt Master''s focus snapped onto him, eyes boring into Fafon. "The same we just hunted," he answered, his voice disturbingly low yet resonating clearly through the tent. "An elafiot¨¦ras."


    Leaning back, the Hunt Master coughed before clearing his throat. He looked to the tent''s roof and continued, ¡°I¡¯d heard the hunters talking among themselves¡ªa scout had reported a sighting. He¡¯d seen it during one of his expeditions through the forest.¡±


    ¡°And, as a rash youth, our Hunt Master decided to go after it,¡± Puty interjected, shaking his head slightly. His gaze turned pointedly toward the Hunt Master. ¡°What was going through your mind? Did you want tales of your heroics sung long after you¡¯d joined the ancestors?¡±


    "I can''t explain it myself," the Hunt Master confessed, his tone introspective. "You could be right, or maybe I wanted to stake my claim as the next Hunt Master." He shrugged lightly. "We''ll never know for certain."


    Fafon studied him, his expression unreadable. "You''ve never mentioned this story before."


    The Hunt Master glanced at him before turning away, practically dismissing him. "I''ve never mentioned this history before," he sharply corrected. "And no, I haven¡¯t¡ªno one before Ion has ever thought to ask me about my first hunt."


    "Hunt Master, please stay on point," Puty quickly injected.


    "Yes," the Hunt Master acknowledged. "After crafting a spear and a few small knives, I scoured the surroundings carefully, searching for an animal I could follow to a stream. After finding one, I tracked it patiently, waiting for it to need a drink."


    "It didn¡¯t happen immediately¡ªthe animal was cautious, so I had to remain still for long stretches," he continued. "But eventually, it led me to the Tachyro¨ªs River."


    "I climbed a tree and followed the river toward the location the hunters had mentioned," the Hunt Master said. "But I made a mistake before I found it. I got too excited and slipped off a branch."


    Puty sighed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath.


    The Hunt Master ignored him, continuing, "I tumbled from bough to bough before landing heavily on the ground."


    "Were you hurt?" Char asked, his eyes wide with attention.


    The Hunt Master shook his head. "Just a few bumps and bruises, nothing serious."


    "The ancestors favor you, Hunt Master," Lak remarked, his head lowered.


    "Yes, and since I didn¡¯t want to lose our ancestors'' favor," the Hunt Master replied. "I quickly got to my feet despite feeling quite embarrassed."


    "Then what happened?" Char asked, his voice rapt with curiosity.


    "Then..." The Hunt Master trailed off, his expression darkening, as though a shadow passed over his thoughts.


    The hunters shifted uneasily, weighted by his heavy pause. All eyes stayed fixed on him, waiting for the next words.


    But suddenly, the Hunt Master coughed, breaking the moment. He lightly touched his chest as he cleared his throat.


    Hutu growled from the entryway, his head turned toward the gathering.


    "Are you all right, Hunt Master?" Puty asked, his concern evident.


    "I''m fine," the Hunt Master said, straightening up. "The desert air''s getting to me." He gave a rueful laugh and smiled slightly. "I must be getting old."


    Puty scoffed. "If you''re old, what does that make me?"


    "A walking corpse," the Hunt Master shot back, drawing peals of booming laughter from the hunters.


    Once the laughter settled, the Hunt Master looked around before standing. "Well, just know I made it back¡ªwith a beast of an animal slung over my shoulders."


    He thrust his arms into the air, and thunderous cheers erupted, rolling out into the open air.


    The Hunt Master threw his head back and laughed uproariously. His gaze swept across the tent before landing on the quiet, withdrawn Sax. The sudden attention caused the man to shrink further into his shell. "Sax, bring the smoked elafiot¨¦ras," he commanded, then turned to the hunters with a booming cry. "We feast!"


    The men responded with a piercing roar, their excitement filling the space.


    While the hunters reveled in their merriment, one among them remained level-headed. His sharp gaze lingered on the tent¡¯s entrance, where he noticed Hutu rise suddenly and slip outside without a word.


    SPLASH! Moments later, a loud splash echoed from beyond the tent.


    Yet none among the men noticed¡ªsave the watcher. He momentarily lingered, his mind tangled with conflicting thoughts, before slowly returning to the festivities, joining the hunters in their feast.

 chapter 9

    The Squires moved through the forest in absolute silence, their eyes darting nervously to the shadowed tree line. The deeper they ventured, the tighter their circle grew around the hulking steed at the center.


    Squire Charles now held his sheathed sword in his hand. He kept one hand firmly on its grip, his knuckles pale and palms red by the constant strain. Periodically, a distant howl or low growl echoed from the forest, pushing the men closer together.


    They crossed over tree roots as thick as a man¡¯s height, passed beneath forests of sharp hanging vines, and traversed sections where the shadows seemed to breathe. Their pace slowed, steps dragging as exhaustion set in when suddenly, Charles paused.


    As Aayan was directly behind him, he froze, licking his lips as his hands reached for his sword. "Why did you stop?" he whispered nervously, eyes darting around.


    Charles relaxed his grip on the sword, his shoulders loosening. "I see a fire."


    "A fire?" Ihsan echoed, his head poking around the animal¡¯s body.


    Charles nodded sharply as he stepped forward. "It''s probably Knight M¨¹ller."


    The Squires followed, their steps quickening. Bilal, trailing behind, glanced nervously over his shoulder. "How do you know?"


    "To the best of my knowledge, no beast in this forest can conjure fire," Squire Charles explained, leaping over an exposed root and landing lightly atop it. He paused, his brow furrowing as he considered. "At least, the quest orders Knight M¨¹ller received didn''t mention anything about that. But perhaps something has changed."


    Aayan grunted as he struggled up the root, his plump face flushed with exertion. His finger dug into the gnarled bark as he pulled himself over the edge. He collapsed momentarily, catching his breath, before pushing himself to his feet.


    One by one, the squires felt a surge of energy as they scaled the root, the elevation bringing the fire''s glow into their line of sight.


    Aayan''s stomach grumbled, breaking the somber silence and drawing the attention of the other squires.


    Charles shook his head and began climbing down. "If that glow is indeed from Knight M¨¹ller and he says it''s safe, we will eat something," he said, much to the men''s delight.


    The men pressed onward with renewed vigor and began maneuvering the ridgewalker over the root. After struggling to force the beast to the other side, the men rushed forward, eager for whatever meal they could get.


    The massive trees obstructed their view, leaving the men unable to discern anything beyond the large flames. As they drew closer, their pace slowed, excitement giving way to caution. What if it wasn¡¯t Knight M¨¹ller? What would they do? Uncertainty crept into their minds, prompting them to unhook their shields and draw their weapons.


    Moments before stepping from the forest, the Squires exchanged loaded glances and whispered silent prayers. Then, with steeled hearts, they emerged from the trees.


    A wave of sweltering heat greeted them as they entered the clearing, but they barely noticed. Their eyes were locked on the fire at the center.


    It wasn¡¯t the flames that held their attention, but what hung above them¡ªa wolverine. The illumination of the light revealed that the beast was skewered on a spit, slowly roasting as the fire lapped at its charred body.


    They hadn¡¯t seen it from the forest; the dense canopy had hidden it from view. But now, its full, horrifying state lay bare: its skin cracked and split along its body, revealing deep-red muscle beneath. Droplets of rendered fat dripped from the roasting flesh, hissing as they met the roaring flames, sending plumes of thick, greasy smoke into the air.


    "Is that...?" Ihsan muttered, eyes locked on the burning beast.


    "A wolverine," Charles finished the thought, his stomach twisting. His nose wrinkled at the overpowering scent¡ªa harsh mix of burnt hair and sizzling meat.


    Aayan swallowed hard and took a cautious step forward, his wide eyes flitting around the clearing as he raised his shield. Then, suddenly, he froze. His hand slipped from the shield''s grip and shot up, fingers trembling as he pointed. "Squire Charles... look."


    Squire Charles half-unsheathed his sword at the alarm in Aayan¡¯s voice. His eyes snapped left, then right, before narrowing.


    A stone¡¯s throw away, lying in a heap, were the lifeless bodies of two more wolverines.


    "More wolverines?" Bilal asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Even for M¨¹ller, is it possible to kill so many?"


    "Oh, I assure you it is."


    The voice sent a chill through Charles. Without hesitation, he fully unsheathed his sword and turned sharply, his gaze searching.


    Moments later, his grip slackened. His sword lowered, and he inclined his head. "Knight M¨¹ller."


    M¨¹ller stood behind the Squires, an easy-going smile plastered across his face. "I''m glad to see you all made it here safely. Honestly, I wasn¡¯t sure of your chances."


    Charles stepped aside, allowing the Knight to pass. "We haven¡¯t been attacked since splitting up from you."


    M¨¹ller¡¯s ears perked up. "Really?" He tapped his fingers lightly against his thigh. "I would have thought you''d be swarmed. Three¡ªno, even two wolverines would have been enough."


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    Charles shook his head. "Apart from some tense nerves, it was an uneventful journey. Nothing whatsoever to report."


    "Hmm." M¨¹ller¡¯s gaze drifted, unfocused. "Strange, yet interesting." He licked his lips and smiled. "Quite interesting."


    The men stood at attention, waiting for Knight M¨¹ller¡¯s instructions.


    BAYYY!


    M¨¹ller¡¯s steed cried out, breaking the silence and yanking him from his thoughts. "Ah, yes." His figure blurred¡ªvanishing¡ªbefore reappearing beside the ridgewalker. He patted its side, a light smile on his face. "Now I''m glad you survived."


    After inspecting the beast, he nodded and turned to Charles. " There were no injuries. You did well," M¨¹ller praised.


    Reaching into a pouch strapped to the creature, he withdrew a candle. Under his men''s curious gazes, he walked over to the fire and lit the candle. He then laid the candle on the ground before dusting his hands.


    Bilal stepped forward, eyeing the candle warily. "What is that, Knight M¨¹ller?"


    M¨¹ller spared him a glance before turning away. "Nothing much. Just an item that repels beast."


    The men froze.


    Aayan let out a nervous chuckle. "What are you talking about, Sir? Something like that exists?"


    M¨¹ller nodded. "Yes. A new creation from the Temple¡ªI learned of it just before coming here. If you doubt me, ask Charles."


    Charles answered the questioning gazes of the Squires with a nod. While they stood frozen in shock, his gaze shifted to the roasting wolverine. "You built that yourself, Sir?"


    Squatting beside the fire, M¨¹ller dropped something into the flames. "Yes," he replied, carefully drawing his blade across the beast¡¯s charred hide, carving out a piece of meat. "I killed them and decided they''d best serve as a meal."


    He placed the meat in his mouth, closing his eyes as he savored the taste. Then, without turning, he called over his shoulder.


    "Hey."


    The men stiffened.


    "Join me, you all look terrible."


    Aayan, Bilal, and Ihsan exchanged loaded looks. Then, in a flurry of movement, they surged forward.


    They fell upon the wolverine with ravenous hunger, tearing into it with whatever they could¡ªhands, swords, anything. It didn¡¯t matter. Their only thought was to stave off the weakness clawing at their stomachs.


    M¨¹ller folded his hands beneath his chin, watching them devour their meal with an amused twinkle in his eye.


    Eventually, they were satisfied, leaning back with content looks on their faces.


    "I assume you''re all finished?" M¨¹ller asked, scanning the men. "Good." He stood, his gaze shifting to the ridgewalker. "Gather the supplies¡ªwe need to take inventory. Bring everything. I don¡¯t care if it''s personal."


    "What?" Aayan blurted, torn between staring at Knight M¨¹ller and the charring meat. "But I can still... eat."


    "Get up, tubby!" Ihsan grabbed him, ignoring his protests, and hauled him toward the resting ridgewalker. Bilal followed, shaking his head. The beast raised its furry head at their approach, let out a braying cry, then flopped back down.


    The three Squires got to work, unbuckling pouches and satchels strapped to its frame.


    Once finished, they emptied their supplies, gathering everything before trudging over to Knight M¨¹ller, faces tinged with regret.


    M¨¹ller chuckled at their expressions. "Relax. I''ll replace what is used."


    He began rummaging through the supplies, muttering under his breath while taking mental notes.


    Seven water pouches, three strips of jerky, ten throwing knives, and some odds and ends... M¨¹ller rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Not much to work with. I can''t imagine completing the quest like this.


    His gaze shifted to the wolverines'' corpses. We can make more jerky, but what about water?


    "Squire Charles, when was the last time you passed a water source?" he asked abruptly, glancing up.


    Charles folded his arms behind his back. "Nothing since we entered the depths. The last was that stream," he answered tonelessly.


    M¨¹ller exhaled sharply, scratching his chin. "I thought so."


    His gaze swept over the Squires, who stood in silence. "We''ll push on a little longer. Once our provisions can¡¯t sustain us, we turn back immediately."


    His eyes lingered on Aayan. "That means rationing everything¡ªthere''s no room for indulgence or waste."


    He ignored the offended look and continued, "We''ll move in a tight formation around the ridgewalker. If we''re attacked, everyone except Charles focuses on protecting it. He and I will handle everything else."


    "That''s all. Reattach the supplies¡ªwe leave as soon as possible."


    M¨¹ller dismissed the men and turned to the licking flames, his mind still running through his options.


    Perhaps we should cut our losses and leave? It¡¯s the smarter, safer choice. He slowly knelt, bowing his head toward the fire. But I don¡¯t want to leave a bad impression on her. This is the first request she¡¯s given me, and with the length of my indenture, I¡¯d hate to start on the wrong note.


    Straightening his back, he placed his hands on his thighs. Then again, didn¡¯t she mention she has jurisdiction over a small settlement? Maybe they have someone who knows these woods and is competent enough to guide us through them.


    He sighed, closing his eyes. I¡¯ll leave that as a last resort. That¡¯s not how I want to introduce myself to the locals.