The morning of departure arrived cold and clear. Siegfried rose before the sun, his sword at his side and his pack on his shoulder. The courtyard was quiet, emptied of the usual clamor of sparring and shouted orders. The mercenary company had already dispersed to their duties, leaving only Captain Az'rahn waiting near the gates.
Az'rahn's expression was unreadable, his arms folded across his chest as Siegfried approached. "Your path begins now," he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of command even in the stillness.
Siegfried nodded, the sealed parchment tucked safely away in his pack. He stepped through the gates, the city stretching before him, its streets alive with merchants, guards, and beggars. Yet beyond the noise lay the road that would carry him to the capital of the Elven Kingdom of Gishtar.
The noble he was to escort had not yet revealed themselves, and the secrecy gnawed at him.
"As I said Nobles rarely moved without reason, and Elves never without purpose." Az'rahn stated to reiterate his point. Whatever awaited him in Gishtar, it was clear this mission was more than a simple escort.
He adjusted the strap of his pack, the weight of steel and provisions pressing against him, and set his eyes on the horizon. Two days of preparation had sharpened his resolve, but the true test lay ahead.
The city gates loomed ahead, their iron-bound timbers creaking as merchants and travelers passed through. Guards stood watch, their spears gleaming in the pale morning light. Siegfried moved steadily toward them, the sealed parchment tucked away in his pack, his mind fixed on the road beyond.
Near the gate, a small retinue waited: a carriage of dark wood, trimmed with silver, stood beside a pair of mounted riders. The crest upon its side was unfamiliar to Siegfried, though its craftsmanship spoke of wealth and status.
A cloaked figure stepped down from the carriage, their hood drawn low. Their movements were measured, graceful, yet cautious. One of the riders dismounted, bowing slightly before gesturing toward Siegfried.
"You are the one called Siegfried?" the cloaked figure asked, their voice calm but carrying authority.
"I am," Siegfried replied, his green eyes steady. "Captain Az'rahn has given me orders to see you safely to Gishtar."
The figure inclined their head. "Then know this — I am not the one you are sworn to protect. I am but a retainer. The true noble remains within the carriage, and their identity is not to be spoken here."
She lowered her hood, revealing the sharp, time‑worn features of an older elf. Her hair was long and blond, streaked with pale silver, catching the morning light like threads of sunlight. Her eyes were keen and watchful, carrying the weight of long service and quiet authority.
"My name is Vinrah," she said. "I speak for the one you are to guard. You will walk beside us, and you will answer to me until the journey's end."
With a gesture, Vinrah opened the carriage door. From within, a second figure emerged only briefly, veiled in fine elven silk. As the fabric shifted, Siegfried caught a fleeting glimpse of red, feminine lips vivid against the pale veil before the door closed again, hiding the noble from view.
Vinrah turned back to Siegfried. "The noble's safety is your charge, and discretion is paramount. We leave at once."
Siegfried adjusted the strap of his pack and fell into step beside the carriage as the retinue began to move. The city gates opened wide, and the company passed through into the open road. Behind them, the compound and its familiar walls faded into the distance. Ahead lay forests, rivers, and the uncertain path to the Elven capital.
Siegfried kept his pace steady beside the carriage, his eyes scanning the tree line. Vinrah rode just ahead, her blond hair catching the light beneath her hood, her posture unyielding despite the hours of travel. She spoke little, but her gaze was sharp, ever watchful.
By midday, the road grew quieter. The occasional merchant cart had vanished, replaced by silence broken only by the creak of wheels and the rhythmic clop of hooves. The air felt heavier, as though the forest itself was listening.
Siegfried's hand lingered near his sword. "Too quiet," he muttered.
Vinrah's ears twitched slightly, her elven senses attuned to sounds beyond his own. "You are not wrong," she said. "This stretch of road is known for bandits. They prey on travelers who think silence means safety."
The carriage jolted again, and Siegfried caught another fleeting glimpse of red lips behind the veil before the noble withdrew deeper into shadow. The image burned in his mind, a reminder of the fragile charge he carried.
"No... keep focused on the mission, I can't afford to let my curiosity wonder and distract me." he said gritting his teeth.
The retinue slowed as the road narrowed between two ridges, the forest pressing close on either side. Birds had gone silent. Vinrah raised a hand, signaling the riders to tighten formation.
"Eyes open," she commanded. "If danger comes, it will come here."
Siegfried adjusted his stance, his grip firm on the hilt of his blade. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, as though the forest itself held its breath.
The carriage creaked forward, its wheels grinding against the uneven path. Siegfried's eyes swept the tree line, every shadow a threat. His hand rested firmly on the hilt of his sword.
A sudden rustle broke the silence. From the undergrowth, figures emerged ragged men with blades and bows, their faces hidden beneath scarves and grime. Bandits.
"Hand over the carriage!" one shouted, his voice rough and eager. "No need for blood if you yield."
Vinrah's horse shifted beneath her, but her voice was calm, commanding. "You've made a mistake. Leave now, and you may yet live."
The bandits laughed, circling closer. One loosed an arrow that thudded into the dirt at Siegfried's feet.
Siegfried drew his sword in a single motion, the steel flashing in the dim light. His green eyes narrowed, fixed on the nearest attacker. "You'll find no easy prey here."
The clash came swift. Two bandits rushed Siegfried, blades raised. He met them head‑on, parrying the first strike and driving his shoulder into the second man's chest. The impact sent the bandit sprawling, while Siegfried's blade cut a clean arc that forced the other back.
Vinrah's voice rang out behind him, sharp and commanding. "Protect the carriage!"
The riders moved to shield the wheels, their spears braced against the advancing bandits. The noble remained hidden within, the silk veil unmoving, though Siegfried thought he saw the faintest shift — as if the figure inside leaned forward, watching.
Steel clashed, cries echoed, and the forest erupted into chaos. Siegfried fought with precision, each strike measured, each movement honed by years of battle. Yet the bandits pressed hard, their numbers greater than expected.
One broke through the line, rushing toward the carriage door. Siegfried spun, his blade flashing, and cut the man down before he could reach it. The noble's safety was his charge, and he would not falter.
The bandits surged from the trees, blades flashing, bows drawn, their ragged cries shattering the silence. Siegfried met the continuous rush head‑on, steel ringing as his sword clashed against a rusted axe. He twisted, driving his elbow into the man's jaw, sending him sprawling, then pivoted to parry another strike. The second attacker pressed hard, but Siegfried's blade cut low, forcing him back with a cry.
Vinrah spurred her horse forward, her voice sharp and commanding as she drew her own weapon a long, slender elven blade that gleamed in the dim light. She moved with practiced precision, cutting down a bandit who lunged for the carriage wheel, her strikes fluid despite her age. The riders tightened formation, spears braced, holding the line against the press of bodies.
Arrows hissed through the air. One struck the carriage, splintering wood, another grazed Siegfried's shoulder, tearing cloth but leaving flesh unbroken. He pressed forward, his sword flashing in a brutal arc that split a bandit's guard and sent him collapsing to the dirt. Another came at him from behind; Siegfried spun, catching the strike on his blade, then drove his boot into the man's chest, sending him tumbling back into the undergrowth.
The bandits were many, but disorganized, their greed outweighing their skill. Still, numbers pressed hard. One broke through the riders' line, sprinting toward the carriage door. Siegfried saw the flash of steel, the desperate lunge, and moved without thought. His sword cut clean, severing the man's advance, the body crumpling before it could reach the noble within. For an instant, the silk veil shifted, and Siegfried glimpsed again those red lips, parted as if in breath, before the figure withdrew deeper into shadow.
Vinrah fought beside him now, her blond hair catching the light as she struck with deadly grace. Her blade moved like water, each motion efficient, each strike precise. She cut down two attackers in swift succession, her eyes never leaving the carriage. "Hold the line!" she commanded, her voice carrying above the clash of steel.
Siegfried's muscles burned, sweat stinging his eyes, but he pressed on. He ducked beneath a wild swing, drove his sword upward, and felt the jolt as steel met flesh and warm crimson spilled over his hands. Another bandit rushed him, dagger raised, but Siegfried caught the wrist, twisted hard, and slammed the man into the dirt before finishing him with a single thrust.
The forest rang with cries, steel, and the pounding of hooves. Slowly, the tide began to turn. The riders held firm, Vinrah's blade cut true, and Siegfried's relentless strikes broke the bandits' courage. One faltered, then another, and soon the ragged men began to retreat, vanishing back into the trees with curses and shouts.
The forest fell silent once more, broken only by the groans of the wounded and the heavy breaths of those who had fought. The bandits had fled, leaving bodies scattered across the dirt road. Siegfried lowered his sword, its edge stained, and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Vinrah reined her horse beside him, her elven blade still in hand, her blond hair catching the light as she studied him with sharp eyes. "You fight well," she said, her voice calm but edged with authority. "Not reckless, not wasteful. Every strike measured."
Siegfried sheathed his sword, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of battle's aftermath. "I fight to end fights quickly. Lingering blades only invite death."
Vinrah gave a faint nod, her gaze drifting to the carriage. "You understand your duty. That is good. But know this — bandits are nothing compared to what lies ahead. Gishtar is not reached by steel alone. There are dangers that strike from shadow, and not all can be cut down."
Siegfried's eyes followed hers to the carriage, where the silk veil had stilled once more. The noble within remained hidden, yet the memory of red lips lingered in his mind, vivid against the pale fabric. He forced his gaze back to Vinrah. "Then I will meet those dangers as I met these. Steel in hand, eyes open."
Vinrah's lips curved into the faintest smile, though it carried no warmth. "We shall see, Siegfried. The road is long, and purpose weighs heavier than steel."
The riders regrouped, the carriage wheels creaked forward, and the retinue pressed on, leaving the battlefield behind.
By dusk, the retinue had left the bloodied stretch of road behind. The forest opened into a clearing where the riders set a small camp, the carriage drawn close to the firelight. Horses were tethered, wounds tended, and the smell of smoke and pine mingled in the cooling air.
Siegfried sat apart, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate strokes. The steel caught the fire's glow, each rasp of stone against edge steadying his thoughts. He had fought many battles, but the weight of this charge pressed heavier than most.
Vinrah approached, her steps measured, her blond hair pale in the firelight. She lowered herself onto a fallen log opposite him, her elven blade resting across her knees. For a moment she said nothing, only studied him with those keen eyes that seemed to pierce through silence.
"You held your ground," she said finally. "Few men would have stood so firm against numbers. You did not falter."
Siegfried glanced up, his green eyes steady. "I've seen worse odds. Bandits are desperate men, not soldiers. They break when steel holds."
Vinrah's lips curved faintly, though her tone remained cool. "True. Yet desperation can be more dangerous than discipline. A starving man will risk everything. Remember that."
He nodded, sliding the whetstone back into his pack. "I remember. And I'll be ready."
Her gaze shifted toward the carriage, where the noble remained hidden behind silk and shadow. The firelight flickered against the wood, but no sound came from within. "You caught a glimpse," Vinrah said quietly, her voice almost testing.
Siegfried's jaw tightened. "Only for a moment."
Vinrah leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Do not dwell on it. Curiosity is a blade that cuts deeper than steel. Guard your thoughts as you guard your sword."
Siegfried held her gaze, unflinching. "I was chosen to protect, not to pry. Whoever waits within, they will reach Gishtar safely."
Vinrah studied him for a long moment, then inclined her head. "We shall see. The road is long, and danger wears many faces. Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, you prove yourself again."
The fire crackled between them, shadows stretching across the clearing. The riders murmured quietly as they kept watch, and the noble remained silent within the carriage. Siegfried lay back against his pack, his sword close at hand, his mind restless with the memory of red lips behind the veil.