We break camp and make our way towards the left of the tunnel after leaving the room. The fact that they don’t even discuss going right tells me that it probably does lead back to where we came from.

The group quickly reaches the crossroad I found after a small hour of walking. I spend that time finding a good carrying position for the sledgehammer.

I simply stick the right angle made by the head and handle right next to the left side of my neck so that it is easy to carry while the weapon’s weight helps my waist muscles maintain the balance with my right arm as I walk, but far enough from the wound that it doesn’t touch the sensible flesh.

“I kept going for a while but I didn’t find anything up front.” I say once we reach the crossing of tunnels.

“Split up and explore?” Yvonne asks.

“Check the walls first, the miners had to have ways to navigate these, there may be directions engraved in the rock.” Patrick suggests.

Lady Lance lifts her torch and taps into the construct to increase the intensity at which the energy burns, turning the flame from red-orange to bright yellow, lighting up the tunnel like daylight.

“There.” Yvonne points to the right. “That’s an arrow.” She says.

“Rudimentary, but I suppose it is enough indication for less sophisticated minds.” Patrick comments, dismissive.

“It’s the only sign I can see anywhere on these walls.” Lady Lance says.

“Me neither.” I confirm.

“If there is only a single indication, it has to point to an exit or at the very least, more directions.” Lady Lance adds, lowering the intensity of her torch back to normal.

“I concur.” Patrick says.

The group forms up, following the arrow and taking the right tunnel. We spend another hour walking brainlessly, our silence occasionally disrupted every-time one of us mentions hearing the clicking sound of a Rykz leg hitting rock.

There is no discussion about the fact that the Rykz still have us under surveillance. I believe we are all thinking the same thing. We are already inside a trap, and its jaws are slowly closing in all around us.

Voicing my concerns would only impact our moral because they’re smart enough to have figured it out long ago if it’s true. Besides, we’re already doing everything we can do to try to escape.

Another half-hour of walking. Two Rykz workers appear within the darkness far in front of us, we spot another pair behind us when we check over our shoulders. These workers are armed, each holding a long spear with their odd three-fingered hands.

“They’re boxing us in.” I voice my concern to combat the anxiety I feel rising inside my stomach.

“Workers” Patrick scoffs. “They are no threat to us.”

“Those in the back are catching up.” Yvonne says. “The ones in front are waiting for us.” She adds.

“Skirmish tactics?” Lady Lance asks.

“Likely, make us expend energy before the real ambush.” Yvonne agrees.

“We don’t have the time to find another exit because you gave the peasant all our water.” Patrick comments coldly.

“Would a few more days roaming inside tunnels really give us a better chance?” Lady Lance shakes her head. “They had us caught when they blocked the way back to Buton’s dungeon.”

A flock of familiar butterflies start taking laps around my stomach at this new information, but as usual, I am unsure of the intention behind lady Lance’s actions. Does she care for me because I seem weak? Because she would do the same for anyone injured under her command? Because she pities me? I quash the unhelpful train of thoughts before I lose track of the conversation.

“Do we have a plan?” Yvonne asks.

“Keep going, they’re harassing us because they couldn’t gather the forces to attack us directly yet.” Lady Lance answers. “If we don’t let them delay us too much, I think we have a chance to get past the trap.”

I spend the next five minutes with my hand on the sledgehammer’s handle, my eyes nervously going back and forth between the Rykz as the distance between us is steadily reduced. When the Rykz chasing us approach their charging distance, lady Lance lifts her hand and points it at the Rykz waiting in front of us.

“Patrick, you hold rear-guard while we dispatch those two.” She orders. “We should be done long before they reach you.”

I watch, fascinated as she and Yvonne burst forward in huge kicking leaps, their speed at least twice faster than when they use a running pace. They reach their targets within seconds, swords held above their heads, releasing their strikes straight at the worker’s wooden spears.

There is no finesse to their actions as they slaughter the pair of Rykz, their first strike is quick and powerful enough to cut the wooden shafts in two, and they make use of their built-up charging speed to ram into their targets shoulder first, throwing them to the ground.

The one lady Lance impacts has its chest directly caved in by the impact, she still stabs it in the head to make sure. Yvonne’s prey, that’s what the worker seem to be in my eyes as I watch her, it is stabbed three times before it can even gather itself enough to use either of the pieces of spear in its hands.

As soon as the workers are both dead, the two nobles … no, the two warriors turn around and start jogging back towards us. I glance over my shoulder to find that the pair of pursuing Rykz workers are just now entering charging distance, but they don’t speed up, they actually slow down and stop instead.

“We’re not wasting time chasing them down.” Lady Lance tells us. “We will keep marching until we see the light of day. That’s our only chance.”

We form back up, and resume our steady pace through the dark mining tunnel. I step over the dead workers’ bodies, throwing a curious look down at them because their brown viscous blood is still fascinating to me.

I am still very much afraid of the situation we are in, and the creatures still provoke fear in me, but I no longer feel the irrational terror that I did when I first saw them charge at us all at once during the ambush.

As we make our way, I keep the habit of throwing regular looks behind us at our Rykz tail, it allows me to spot the exact moment where they start accelerating. Luckily because I would have missed the increase in speed if I didn’t see the moment it happened.

“They’re coming.” I tell the rest of the group.

“I see two scout types further behind.” Lady Lance mentions. “They’re throwing workers at us just to slow us down a few tens of seconds.” I see her form a grimace of distaste as her head turns back to face forward. “Another crossroad ahead.” She adds.

“I hope these miners stayed consistent and kept using their simplistic method for every crossroad.” Patrick says.

“I’m starting to feel a bit nervous about following arrows now that we know we’re still in the middle of enemy territory.” Yvonne replies.

“It is doubtful that a species without eyesight would think to use a visual trick, besides the types of Rykz we have seen do not have the intelligence to even think to use such abstract traps.” Patrick counters.

“A princess could, and we have no way to know if there is one commanding them.” Lady Lance shakes her head. “No, I agree with Patrick, even if a princess was around she wouldn’t use a visual trick alone. I think the arrow was genuinely left by the miners in case they got lost.”

Patrick and Yvonne share a silent look, nodding before turning around to receive the pair of workers quickly rushing at us. They both charge ahead, swords raised above their heads, their approach identical to the one used for the engagement just before.

I feel a hand tap my left side to call for my attention, but I react excessively, almost jumping away from the touch, fearing the burning pain that assaulted me last time something brushed against the wound’s flesh.

I turn around a bit sheepishly, looking up at lady Lance with an interrogative expression on my face.

“What was that?” She asks curiously but with a frown, she obviously noticed the overreaction.

“Nothing, you just startled me.” I lie. “What is it?” I ask immediately, anxious about giving her time to think.

“Just, you have a weapon, but don’t try to join any fight with us.” She says, there is enough tension in her body language for me to notice, and that tells me that she expects me to argue with her on this.

“I know.” I agree with a nod. I might have quibbled if I hadn’t noticed her expectation.

“Oh.” She says, surprised, as I repress a smile. “It’s good that you know … but why bother then?” She asks with obvious curiosity.

“It helps.” I answer, unhelpfully.

“With what?” Lady Lance presses on.

I am struck silent for a moment, stuck between the fact that she is asking about me, trying to get to know me, and that alone makes my heart beat faster, but I am reluctant to answer that specific question, especially to her, because it involved reinforcing this image of weakness I somehow keep falling back into when I am around her. I grit my teeth, calculating that I have a better chance at getting closer to her if I speak than if I refuse to answer.

“With fear, it helps with fear.” I admit, breaking eye contact with her, incidentally relieving my neck muscles as she is a good head and a half taller, looking up at her is both pleasure and pain, in more ways than one. “I really didn’t really want to say this, specifically to you, but …” I try to shrug casually. “They terrify me.” I confess, my eyes fixed on the rocky ground between my feet. “I got over it.” I add hurriedly. “But, I’m almost constantly afraid, every-time some of them show up in front or behind us, I feel a wave of fear seize my heart.” I take a deep breath. “The hammer helps.” I conclude with a sigh. I’m never going to succeed in showing her that I am not some weakling peasant like these idiots back at the village.

I feel a hand settle on my head, ruffling my hair a bit, the gesture is curiously comforting to me. Enough that I manage to gather the courage to lift my eyes again and look at her, finding a kind smile on her lips, the butterflies leave my stomach, fluttering all the way up to my heart.

“We all have fears.” She says, gently. “I am often more afraid to lose Yvonne than I am of dying.” Her face makes a complicated expression at the admission, her eyes lost in the distance. “Silly, right?” She ends up adding the self-deprecating comment with a light smile.

“No.” I shake my head sideways, carefully, so as not to disrupt the hand still resting on top of it. It sadly isn’t the moment to tell her that I feel the same way but about her. “I understand that fear.” I say, estimating that conveying my understanding is much more important right now. “Besides, you’re too strong to die!” I add, lightly.

“Thanks.” She makes a smile filled with mirth. “You’re pretty tough yourself.” She adds, patting my head before taking back her hand.

No, leave your hand there! Aargh! Such regret. I shake my head with a smile, deciding not to take the compliment she returned seriously.

As we wait in a silence that doesn’t feel uncomfortable to me, she holds her water flask out to me, I accept it without quibbling, drinking a few large gulps of water before returning it.

Patrick and Yvonne return soon after, the group resumes its usual formation with me in the center, lady Lance taking point in front, and the other two take the rearguard. I was too busy talking to my Leomi to even watch them fight, but they didn’t sustain any new wounds or even blood stains. They mustn’t have had too much trouble.

At the crossroads, we find another arrow, forward this time, so we keep going, silently. We spend the entire, morning? I’ve completely lost track of time. Regardless, the next few hours are as monotonous as ever in the tunnels, nothing new apart from the fact that the pair of Rykz scouts following us slowed down their pace to follow us from a distance.

The lack of new encounters does nothing to relieve the constant pressure that the Rykz seem masters at applying, we never know when they’ll decide to attack, while the presence of two scouts behind us is a constant reminder that they are watching our every move.

There isn’t even much point to taking them out, it is obvious to all of us now that the Rykz have us surrounded, that we are in the middle of a trap and that we will have to fight our way out or die, one or the other. That knowledge weights on me as we advance, so after a while, I try asking something, just to break the silence.

“We don’t hear any of those breathing cries coming from the Rykz warriors. No sound, no warriors around us, right?” I feel in my heart that it would be too good to be true, but it doesn’t cost anything to ask. Right?

“Wolves don’t always announce their presence when they hunt, you’ll have no future if you can’t even discern such simple deceptions from the actions of your enemies.” Patrick replies with condescension dripping from his voice.

Does he have to be such a fucking prick? Daft ass-face.

“I have no future, period.” I reply, annoyed beyond what I should be considering the high-born audience. I pick at his words and choose my morbid answer because I am confident I know more about actual life than a spoiled noble, so I can crush him if he decides to engage in the discussion.

“That’s not true, I’m sur …” Lady Lance starts, but I interrupt her.

“Yes, I’m sure whatever silver you throw my way, if we make it out, will last me a couple years.” I sneer.

“Ignorant peasant, it is possible to live with a single arm, I knew a …” Patrick speaks but I interrupt him, barely restraining my glee.

“You knew a noble, or a rich man with servants.” I snap at him. I keep my silence for a few seconds to give him a chance to contradict me. He doesn’t, I continue while ignoring the heat rising up to my head, and ignoring the headache accompanying it. “How many one-armed workers have you ever seen? None. There are more people than there are good working jobs, and they all have qualifications. My most practiced skill involves plowing fields with a plow or a pickaxe, two-handed.” I make sure to add enough ridicule in my tone that he cannot miss it.

Patrick grabs my shoulder from behind, throwing me against the tunnel wall, I struggle to keep the scream that fights up my throat at the scorching pain when a small part of my wound brushes against the rock.

“Arh!” This small exclamation of pain is all that escapes my lips.

“Insolent wench, ungrateful little peasant, you should be glad you’re alive. We have wasted too much time and effort on your sorry life already.”

“Yeah? Let me die next time.” My voice rasps as I utter the sentence between my teeth.

The group gathers around me as lady Lance pulls Patrick away from me. Yvonne remains silent, I suspect she is worldly enough to have known the truth from the start.

Lady Lance, on the other hand, opens her mouth to speak, but I am in no mood to accept pity, or sympathy coming from false assumptions about what life actually is for those not high-born.

I throw her a flat look, one that hopefully communicates my unwillingness to take any bullshit arguments as comfort. She snaps her mouth shut as an odd expression flashes across her face. Was that guilt? The question puzzles me enough that it pierces the veil of anger clouding my thoughts.

“You need to learn respect, propriety, and manners. You are in the presence of your betters, behave or I will cut your miserable existence even shorter.” His face scowls and his voice seethes in anger as he delivers his threat. I almost laugh.

“I have three options, street begging until I hit a snag and starve to death, find a low-end brothel and get fucked all day by men, that or be a burden to my father until the Baron takes the stables back because we can’t pay back the loan. You think I’m afraid to die?” A slightly insane laugh escapes my lips this time. “I haven’t even taken the upcoming war with the Rykz into account yet.” I giggle, almost maniacally, watching Patrick put his hand on his sword.

“Let it go.” Lady Lance speaks up to stop him from going further. “She still has a fever.”

I take a sideways step, away from both the wall and Patrick, creating space enough for me to lift the sledgehammer off its resting spot on my shoulder, I hold the weapon in my hand with a two-thirds grip. He doesn’t even react. The anger within me soars, renewed, while the amusement I felt at the situation evaporates.

“Fuck you, fuck your threats, and fuck the Baron.” I a deep breath for the next part, because uttering it is literally treason. “I renege my vow to the Buton family.” My mouth widens to form a wide victorious grin when I see Patrick draw his sword. “Go on! Kill me, see if I care.” I hear myself laugh, the words seem hilarious to me but oddly enough, no one else is laughing.

Patrick takes a step towards me, sword parallel to the ground, the wrist holding it withdrawn under his shoulder, the point already aimed towards my chest.

Lady Lance doesn’t intervene this time, she is either shocked by what I said, or unwilling to defend my act of treason. It doesn’t matter in the end. And this, this is the end. Now I die.

My grin disappears when Yvonne takes a quick step that puts her between me and Patrick. Blocking him from taking the last step that would put me inside his striking distance.

Before he can deliver what I assume is a lion strike, whatever that is. I had a brief glimpse of him taking this exact stance right after lady Lance ordered lion strikes during the ambush. I remember that her strike cut through the entire exoskeleton of a Rykz scout in one blow.

Patrick doesn’t try to get around Yvonne, he simply keeps staring at her in semi-disbelief, he seems to be having trouble comprehending why she would stop him from executing a traitor.

I feel no relief at the immediate danger passing, lodging the sledgehammer against my neck. Anger is the only thing I’m feeling, maybe a bit of disappointment, there definitely is a scorching headache pounding up here.