The smoke from the girl's body would likely attract attention, but I could not afford to risk trying to rig some sort of time-delay mechanism.

I set the corpse aflame and fled on my horse, redoubling my efforts to avoid trackers. Any successful attempts I previously made to evade them were likely mostly undone by my setting up what could effectively be considered a signal flare.

I can't say I felt no regret just burning her like that. I was, after all, quite hungry, and her flesh was so dense with mana, it practically stank of it. She didn't seem quite human, so it probably wouldn't even be cannibalism.

But I decided that I wouldn't eat another person, even if it was the corpse of a rapist. I had that much humanity, at least.

Eventually, after about a week of hard riding, I reached the border of the territory of the Temple of Iron. I was starving and exhausted, but very much alive.

As a lone person, I avoided the notice of watchtowers and patrols and crossed without being noticed. Traveling along a major road, I eventually encountered a large merchant caravan and convinced them to let me join as a scout.

We moved slower than when I was alone, but this area was a fairly well-populated province in enemy territory, and I was part of a big group. It would be harder for the Temple of Light to act recklessly.

Finally, I was able to eat, rest, and drink water in abundance. While on the run, I had been boiling it in small quantities with magic, but it hadn't been what I would call a good time.

Best of all, I now had lots of time to practice magic. Besides improving my mana capacity and control, and finishing the content of my book, one of the guards was a magician. By getting friendly with him, I learned some of the most basic and widely known offensive spells.

I say it like it was as simple as asking him, but it took some effort, since the way it happened was technically illegal. I don't think he expected me to actually understand and be able to replicate them from his descriptions; I think he was just trying to impress me. They weren't rare enough spells to be traceable, however, so it wasn't a big deal.

Through experimentation, I realized that while the amount of mana I could harness at the moment was restricted, my fine control was exceptional. Being able to create a mana strand as thin as a hair was generally considered very impressive, even for an experienced mage. I was able to keep dividing strands smaller and smaller until I got bored. I had yet to hit my limit.

I also made sure to interact with lots of merchants and servants, so I would have a good understanding of the local social structure and cultural norms. I would prefer to not stick out like a sore thumb after we entered the city.

After a couple weeks of travel, we were a day and a half's ride away from the capital.

I was scouting ahead, and I saw a woman running towards me, chased by a group of men.

As soon as she saw me, the woman immediately shouted, "Boss! Thank god you came! I'm sorry, I got the item, but I got caught while leaving. Slow them down for a bit, and we'll meet up later."

The men behind her, who had previously been too focused on the chase to take notice of me, seemed to lock on to me as well.

The woman secretly stuck out her tongue at me.

Was she trying to frame me?

What an idiot.

As she bolted past me, I grabbed one of her wrists and pulled her towards me. With my other hand, I pressed my knife to her throat.

She started to try to twist her hand free while shouting something about how I "betrayed" her, so I pushed the blade into her skin until it drew blood.

"Shut up and stop moving," I said. She did.

The men chasing her caught up. One of them, apparently the leader, raised an eyebrow and asked, "So, you're her boss?"

"I've never seen her before in my life. I've been a scout for a nearby merchant caravan for the past few weeks; you can check with them. She just tried to get me involved to presumably make her escape easier."

"Oh, I see. Then, would you mind handing her over to us?"

I didn't care about this woman's fate. Some would call me cold-hearted, but if I had been a random person and her plan had worked as she intended, I could've died. She had basically just tried to murder me.

I looked over the men, examining them. Their gear looked reasonably expensive.

"Are you bounty hunters? She must have quite the bounty on her. I'll hand her over, but who knows if she'd have managed to get away if I didn't catch her? How about this? She seems rather slippery, so I'll help you guys bring her in. In exchange, I want a sixth of the reward."

There were five of the men, so I was asking for an equal share. I negotiated back and forth with the leader for a bit, and eventually, he gave me a long look and agreed to my terms.

Then, he introduced himself as Matt, and asked for my name.

I told him I was called Rowan. It was a different name from the one I had given the high priestess, but neither name was actually mine.

True names can be powerful in magic. I had no intention of giving mine away easily.

I cleared things up with the caravan and rejoined the bounty hunter group by nightfall.

We made camp and I was leaning against a tree, relaxing and polishing my knife, when one of the men turned to the leader.

"Boss, since we're gonna bring her in tomorrow, can we have her for a bit tonight? I've rarely seen such high-class goods and we're feeling kind of stressed."

The man who captured her hadn't bothered to ask her name, but she was the legendary thief known as Sprite. She'd gone for years without getting caught, but by some misfortune (or was it their captain's skill?) the bounty hunters had found her hideout.

They had surrounded it while she was taking a short nap, but she still managed to run through their loose encirclement. She had been faster than them, but only barely. They had been hot on her heels when she had seen the perfect mark.

He was a lone male that looked like a scout, or something of the like. From the way he walked, he looked at least a bit skilled; he shouldn't go down too quickly. He probably wasn't too intelligent or he wouldn't be working a job like that, so he would be too flustered to react properly if she pretended he was her ally.

He might not even mind being used. After all, a gorgeous, busty, athletic redhead in a tight leather outfit was in need of his help. If she were a guy like him, it would be enough for her to die happy.

Before she knew it, she had been caught. The bastard must've been made of ice or something, because he had handed her over to the bounty hunters without any hesitation.

Now, she was tied up and not at all oblivious to the looks some of the men were giving her. Their eyes roamed across her body, and they occasionally licked their lips.

The man who caught her had tied the rope very securely, and even with her skills, getting herself free would at least take until the middle of the night. For the moment, she was at their mercy.

Then, one of the men had asked the question she was dreading. With a defiant look in her eyes, she grit her teeth and resigned herself to the inevitable violation. She had known it was coming ever since she was captured. While it was illegal, it was common for the law to look the other way when it came to criminals.

Before the captain could respond, however, she heard a smooth, low voice.

"Can you not do something so disgusting in front of me?"

It was the bastard who had captured her. He was looking up through half-closed at the man who had wanted to assault her, still sitting and absentmindedly cleaning his knife.

Now that she looked more closely, he was quite handsome. With a rotten personality like his, he must not get very many women, but she had to admit, she might have wronged him first. She tried to recall his name. It was Rowan, right..?

The bounty hunter walked up to Rowan, looming over him.

"What did you just say to me?"

Rowan stood up calmly and looked the hunter in the eyes. He was slightly shorter, but he didn't seem remotely intimidated.

"I said, 'Can you not do something so disgusting in front of me?'"

The bounty hunter started forward, but then the captain interjected, "All right, enough. Leave him alone, Jack."

Law enforcement would look the other way if criminals were assaulted, but it would be a different story if innocent bystanders got involved.

Jack spat on the ground.

"I see we've got a real gallant knight, here. You're lucky the captain intervened, pipsqueak. But you're pathetic, trying to suck up to a woman when we all could've had our way with her if you'd had some balls."

"It has nothing to do with whether it's a man, a woman, or a piece of shit. I don't want to see something unpleasant. It's a matter of human dignity," Rowan replied.

Sprite briefly wondered how protecting a piece of shit could relate to the current situation, but she continued to sneak looks at Rowan for the rest of the evening. It turned out he wasn't as cold as he acted.

Many hours later, after everyone except the person taking watch had fallen asleep, Sprite finally managed to work her hands free.

Sneaking past the watchman and slipping out of the camp would be easy. On her way out, she walked past Rowan's sleeping form, and paused.

His hair shone softly in the moonlight, and his face lacked the dangerous alertness it seemed to always carry in the day. He looked so peaceful.

Silently, she knelt down next to him.

"Goodbye, my handsome knight," she whispered.

She extended her hand to brush the hair from his face and leaned in to kiss him.

A knife stabbed through her hand, pinning it to the ground. Sprite screamed in shock, but by the time she had collected her wits enough through the pain and confusion to try to pull it out, she found there was a foot stepping on the hilt. If she wanted to get away, she would have to cut off half her hand.

Gasping in agony, she looked up to see Rowan standing over her. The calm, almost amicable look on his face inexplicably filled her with dread.