The journey proved slower than either mercenary had expected.
The repaired axle held, though every rut in the road drew a creak from the timber. Whenever the wagon leaned, Eren steadied the frame before the strain reached the splinted beam. The surviving horse gradually found its confidence, contributing more to the burden with each mile, though Shion never loosened her grip on the shafts.
The merchants took turns offering to relieve her, but she declined each time with a quiet shake of her head. They lacked the strength to make a difference, and explaining as much served no purpose.
By the time the sun drifted toward the western treetops, the roofs of a village came into view—a handful of timber houses gathered around a crossroads. Smoke rose from stone chimneys, children chased one another between fenced gardens, and a low wooden palisade enclosed the settlement. Two guards stood beside the open gate, their spears resting idly against their shoulders as they watched the evening traffic arrive.
One of the merchants raised a hand in greeting. "Aldaan," he said with a weary smile. "Never thought I'd be so pleased to see the place."
The guards recognized the wagon, their relaxed expressions giving way to concern as they noticed the broken axle, the blood staining the boards, and the Jursen lashed across the rear.
"What happened?"
"Pack of Jursens," a merchant answered. "We'd all be dead if not for these two."
The guards' eyes shifted toward the mercenaries, lingering on Eren only briefly before settling on Shion. Neither spoke.
The older guard stepped forward, removing a hand from his spear. "Miss..." His tone remained courteous, though hesitation lingered behind it. "Before you come through the gate, there's something I ought to ask."
Shion already knew what was coming.
The guard glanced toward the nearest houses before looking back at her. "Our folk..." He searched for his words. "They're not accustomed to your kind. I'd rather not have trouble before supper."
Silence settled over the gate.
Shion inclined her head. "I understand."
She stepped aside, releasing the wagon shafts as though the request were no more remarkable than being asked to wait while the gate was cleared.
Eren stared at her, then at the guard, and back again. She said nothing—not yet.
The merchants gathered around the wagon once more. "Let's get it inside before it grows dark."
The three of them took hold of the shafts while one of the guards stepped forward to assist. The horse leaned into its harness.
"Ready?"
They pulled. The wagon shifted barely an inch, its repaired axle creaking under the strain.
One merchant let go, rubbing his shoulder. "Gods..."
Another laughed weakly between breaths. "I think our rescuer made it look easier than it was."
The older guard looked toward Shion sitting beneath a tree, then quietly turned away.
Eren watched the exchange in silence before turning to him. "So that's it?"
The guard met her eyes. "I'm sorry?"
"She's a registered mercenary on active escort," Eren said, stepping closer. "She saves four lives. Repairs your townsfolk's wagon. Drags a Jursen across the countryside." Her voice remained controlled, though only barely. "And she isn't allowed through the gate."
The younger guard shifted uneasily, while the older one sighed. "I know how it looks."
"If you do, then why?"
"Mercenary law applies to towns with a guild house, Miss," he said, resting both hands on the butt of his spear. "Here, it's just few houses and a palisade. Tomorrow she'll be gone."
Eren frowned.
"My neighbors won't be." He gestured toward the houses beyond the palisade. "There are children in there who have never seen an orc outside stories their grandparents told them. Some would panic. Others would gather with whatever they could carry in their hands." He shook his head. "I'd rather spare everyone the trouble."
"She's done nothing."
"I know."
"They told you that she saved them."
"I know."
"Then tell them."
"I could." He offered a sad smile. "They wouldn't believe me quickly enough."
Silence settled between them.
"I don't dislike your companion," the guard continued. "If it were only my decision, I'd let her in, feed her, and thank her."
"But?"
"But this gate belongs to the village."
Eren opened her mouth, but nothing came. Part of her understood. Not long ago, she might have made the same decision.
One of the merchants approached, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Miss?"
Eren turned.
"What about the Jursen?" he asked. "The butcher will buy it before morning if we can get it inside." He hesitated. "But... it's yours."
Eren blinked. "Mine?"
"You killed it."
She looked toward the tree. Shion sat with her back against the trunk, one knee raised, quietly rolling stiffness from her shoulder. She looked tired more than anything else.
Eren walked over. "They want to buy the carcass. They're calling it my kill."
Shion opened one eye. "Let them."
"Half the meat is yours," Eren said, her tone level. "You broke its shoulder."
"Sell it," Shion repeated smoothly. "Get coin for the hide, keep enough meat for three days on the road."
"What about supplies?"
"You can buy them."
"We both should be able to."
"No." The answer came without bitterness, carrying only certainty that bothered Eren more than anger would have.
"You accepted that quickly."
Shion rested her forearms across her raised knee. "I've argued before."
"...And?"
"It never changed the answer."
Eren looked away, the silence stretching between them. Finally, Shion spoke again. "We'll lose the daylight."
Eren let out a slow breath. "I don't like this."
"I know."
"...I'll bring your share of the coin out when I'm done."
"I know."
For a moment, neither moved. Then Eren turned toward the gate. The merchants hurried after her, relieved to have an answer at last, while behind them Shion remained beneath the tree, watching the evening light settle across the road.