"Lady Vera has already requested reinforcements," the captain stated. "However, it took two days for them to arrive near this village, and another two to reach the valley."
"So, do you have a plan in mind while you wait for them?"
"I'm going to scout the valley." Vera said in a firm tone. "That is why I hope to employ you."
Hamon leaned back in his chair, surprised. "You want me to go with you?"
Vera looked at him, her eyes piercing into his ."Your skill last night was surprising, to say the least. And in a situation like this, I can't afford to pass up any potential advantage, no matter how... unexpected it may come."
Hamon considered her words. The implication hung in the air, and he felt a flicker of amusement—she had acknowledged his skill after just a brief encounter they had. 'It's rare to meet a knight this blunt, a female one too.' he thought.
"And what do I gain from this little... adventure?" Hamon looked at her, or rather, at the pouch at her waist. It jingled slightly, hinting at the gold it contained.
Following his gaze Vera asked, "How much do you want?"
Hamon couldn't help but smile—he had always loved working with a client who had a deep pocket. "Ten gold a day."
Hearing the price, the captain's eyes bulged from their sockets, his mouth gaped. "Ten gold? That's five times what I earn in a month!"
"Friend—"Elling tried to chime in.
Vera raised her hand, silencing them. "Very well. You will be paid ten gold for each day spent on the journey. Agreed?"
Hamon grinned, lifting his mug to her. "I look forward to working with you."
Vera's expression softened slightly as she nodded in response.
"We leave at noon," she said, standing up. "Be prepared."
Hamon watched them leave, the sound of their boots on the wooden floor echoing through the quiet inn. He didn't know what he had gotten himself into, but as long as there was gold, then there was a hole. That was always his goal, so he didn't care.
…
Hamon finished his breakfast, the warmth of the meal filling him with newfound energy. He had a few hours before setting out with Vera, so he decided to return to his room and check his gear.
He pulled his leather armor from his pack, flexing it in his hands. The well-oiled leather was supple, molded to his body like a second skin. It wasn't the finest craftsmanship he had ever seen, but it had served him well over the years—well enough to bear more scars than the sword at his side.
Speaking of the sword, he drew it from its sheath with a metallic hiss.
It was a simple one-handed sword with a straight, double-edged—dark gray, almost black blade, as if it had never been washed clean of the blood it had spilled.
Despite its unassuming appearance, it still gleamed even in the dim light of the room. The hilt was wrapped in leather, the grip worn smooth from years of use. It was both a tool of his trade and a symbol of his experience.
Running his thumb along the edge, he felt the cold bite of steel—sharp and familiar. Comforting.
The sword had received the old queen's blessing when he was appointed as a knight. It had accompanied him ever since, even on the day he left everything behind.
Putting the sword away, Hamon sighed and laid himself down on the bed, his eyes drifting to the window. Through it, he could see the villagers going about their morning routines—women carrying water from the well, children playing, and men tending to the fields.
For a moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the tranquility of the scene, enjoying its peacefulness before his departure into the chaos that awaited ahead.
Hours passed. The sun had climbed high when Hamon spotted Vera striding out of the inn, her pack slung over her shoulder, sword belted at her waist. Her red hair, no longer tied back, cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, framing her sharp features.
The contrast between the softness of her hair and the rigid armor she wore was striking—like a rose blooming amidst thorns.
Hamon knew it was time to leave. So, after giving the bed one last gentle pat, he rose to his feet.
He slid into his leather armor, appreciating how it snugly embraced him. With a swift movement, he enveloped himself in his cloak, the soft fur lining assuring him of comfort against the biting cold outside.
Grabbing his sword and belongings, he descended the inn's creaky stairs.
The innkeeper awaited him at the bottom, arms full of supplies—dried meat, dried fruit, seeds, and a small pouch of spices. He had asked her to prepare them earlier after breakfast.
"Thank you," he said, taking the bundle and securing it in his pack.
She nodded. "May the gods watch over you both on your journey."
Hamon offered a small smile before stepping outside into the crisp afternoon sun.
Vera was already mounted on her horse, watching him as he approached. Her steed, a magnificent chestnut stallion, snorted and pawed at the ground, sensing the tension in the air.
"Ready?" she asked, her tone cool and collected.
"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, swinging himself onto the saddle of his own horse, which had been brought out by Cal.
They rode westward, following the muddy trail that led out of Wildberry and into the rolling countryside. The landscape was a patchwork of fields and forests, with the distant outline of the valley a hazy blue smudge on the horizon. The journey was quiet, each of them lost in their thoughts.
As they rode Hamon suddenly broke the silence. "What exactly is your plan, if I may ask?"
Vera, who was leading the way, replied, "We'll gather as much information as we can and, if possible, confirm whether the envoy is truly there."
"So, that means sneaking into the place."
"If possible."
"Well, if the captain's word is true, then sneaking in shouldn't be difficult."
"Yes—if we disguise ourselves."
Hamon nodded, then, with a mischievous smile, he added, "If we're disguising ourselves, shouldn't we have a story to make it believable?"
Without waiting for her response, he mused, "Hmm… A husband and wife on the run after accidentally killing their creditor?"
Vera remained silent, her posture rigid.
"Or maybe a lady knight who murdered her fiancé so she could escape with her secret lover? Hmm… but that makes me look weak. Maybe—"
"Maybe," Vera cut in sharply, her voice edged with warning. "Keep talking, and your next disguise will be a corpse."
Hamon chuckled, shaking his head. "What a violent woman."
Vera shot him a cool glance as he rode up beside her. "The more you talk, the more I doubt my decision to employ you."
"Isn't it boring to travel in silence?" he countered.
"Then how did you make it this far south? Did you talk to yourself the whole way?"
"No," Hamon replied smoothly, patting his horse's neck. "I talked to my little pony here."
Vera exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "What a pitiful creature."
Hamon wasn't sure if she meant the horse—or him.
…
They had been riding for hours, the sun slowly descending in the sky, casting long shadows across the land. Hamon suggested they stop by the river for the horses to rest and drink.
The river was a gentle, meandering ribbon of silver that shimmered in the fading light. The water looked cool and inviting, and the horses seemed to agree as they eagerly approached the banks, dipping their muzzles to lap up the refreshing liquid.
While the horses drank, Vera and Hamon dismounted. Vera scanned the area, her hand resting lightly on her sword hilt, ever watchful.
Hamon pulled a piece of dried meat from his pack, chewing thoughtfully. "Should we find a place to camp, or do you want to travel through the night?" he asked.
"No," she shook her head. "The night is dangerous. Let's find a place to rest."
"Alright." Hamon bit off another piece of dried meat, his other hand shifting the weight of his sword over his shoulder.
"I'm going to check up there." He gestured to a small hill about a hundred paces away.
They needed a suitable spot to camp—a clearing that offered some cover from prying eyes and protection from the elements. It was close enough to the river that they could hear the soothing sounds of the flowing water, yet far enough to avoid any potential danger that might come from it.
Just as he took a few steps, the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the earth cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Hamon's hand shot to his sword as he spun around, eyes locking onto the approaching figure.
A cloud of dust billowed behind a riderless horse, barreling toward them.
The animal was a tragic sight—its once-shiny coat marred with streaks of fresh blood, its eyes wild with terror. The crimson clung to its body like a grim warning, painting a horrific story without words.
Hamon and Vera exchanged a glance. There was no need for words; they already understood what was happening.
The horse reached the river and halted, its breath coming in ragged gasps. It dipped its head, sending ripples across the water as it drank desperately.
Slowly, Hamon approached the trembling creature, his hand hovering just above its neck allowing the animal to grow accustomed to his presence. He could feel the rapid pulse beneath its skin even before making contact.
"Easy, boy. Easy." His voice was low and soothing. Gradually, the horse calmed under his touch.
"The blood is still fresh," he murmured, examining the stains. "The battle must be nearby."
"Should we check it out?" Vera looked at him.
Hamon shrugged. "The decision is yours."
Vera didn't hesitate. She swung onto her horse. "It came from the direction we're headed anyway. Might as well see what we're walking into."
Hamon smiled, mounting his own steed. "Nothing is better than a little exercise before dinner."