Aeromancers and air riders patrolled the skies above, this time much closer to the camp and during longer periods. Their objective had shifted from hunting down outposts to preventing another attack from catching everyone by surprise. Most of the flying beasts had already been recovered after they all flew away during the attacks, but some were still not accounted for.

Lanard had picked out a couple of aeromancers to try and locate the beasts as they were too valuable to lose. Each of them was worth their weight in platinum from what John heard.

As for the camp, it felt notably emptier ever since the attack the day before. Not only that, the soldiers had their equipment on most of the time and rarely walked around by themselves.

At the foot of the hill that led to the main tent, John sat at a bench while reading through the letters. Their contents ranged from important instructions on how to contact other outposts, to trivial matters such as the low price of fabrics for clothes.

He had already read through most of them, and would probably be done with the rest before the end of the day. After that was done, he would read through them again, taking the time to write down each translation and deliver them to the Duke’s uncle.

A few meters ahead of him, two cooks labored over various cooking pots. The smell of stew filled the surroundings. Not needing to hide anymore, John had his stuffy helmet by his side. Before, he might have worried about some of the other soldiers causing him trouble, but now everyone gave him a wide berth.

That had everything to do with the Ashen woman who followed him wherever he went, and who was currently sitting on the other end of the bench. As it seemed to be the norm for the Duke’s elite soldiers, she was an intimidating figure.

Her hand rarely left the sword’s hilt, with the weapon currently sitting on her lap. The wooden bench creaked under her heavy armor while, through the helmet’s visor, her eyes watched the surroundings like a hawk. In different circumstances, John would want to be as far from her as possible.

Intimidating, barely speaking, and tasked with following him around every second of the day. She’s like a mix of Neina and Marleya. John grimaced at the thought. Both women had been hurt, directly or indirectly, emotionally or physically, due to his actions.

Marleya hadn’t woken up yet. Athalia claimed that it should happen in a couple of days, and only then would they know the extent of her injuries. He had no way to communicate with Neina, but he was sure that she wouldn’t want to see him again. Throw in the fact that both Hagen and Athalia weren’t exactly pleased with him at the moment, and there was no other way of saying it.

He had harmed or upset all of the important people in his life. It could have been for nothing.

John finished reading the letter in his hands, an uninteresting report on the total supplies of an outpost, and started reading the next one.

Vasilis has called for me, and so this week I’ll be heading to the Green River. The name had popped up more than once in other letters and was likely an important place. From the maps he studied, John couldn’t recall such a river, same for the Ashen. He’d bring this matter to Lanard’s attention later. The duke’s uncle might know more.

Ryden will be left in charge during my absence. As for why Vasilis has summoned me, it must have to do with how we’re going to respond to the enemies, and so I doubt I’m the only one being called. There were rumors that the Olsens might have contacted him, offering their so-called “help”. These nobles only care for themselves and their goals, with us being nothing but pawns in their games. If they are offering to help, then it must either because they have something to gain or someone they want to harm. That’s why, in normal circumstances, I would be questioning their motives. Now though, it has become a matter of survival and we have no choice but to accept their help. If nothing is done soon, we’ll be hunted down to the last. I plan on leaving the day after tomorrow, before the sun is up. Skinner and Cameron will accompany me. There have been sights of the Duke’s patrols near Welei, so I’ll be taking the long route through Aldwick and later Flexmere to avoid detection. By the time you read this, I’ll have already left. Regardless, wish us luck.

That might have been the most useful letter John read up until now. Aldwick and Flexmere were both abandoned villages a couple of days on horseback to the northeast from where they were currently located. An air rider could go there and back in an hour more or less. If the person who wrote this letter had to pass by the two villages to reach the Green River, then the place shouldn’t be much farther from Flexmere.

Unfortunately for John, he also knew for a fact that there were no rivers anywhere near the villages. After a particularly large flood, the River Spey that passed near the villages changed its course decades ago, which is why the villages were abandoned in the first place.

He considered telling the Ashen this newfound information. Maybe it could help jog her memory or something. John refrained from doing so because, honestly, she was too intimidating and he wasn’t immune to it. He had asked her a single question before, and it already felt like she wanted to strangle the life out of him. Maybe she did, or maybe she didn’t, but at the end of the day, he didn’t want to find out. He’d take his chances with Lanard.

John skimmed through the rest of the letters but found nothing else of use. Having exhausted his options, he placed the letters back on the chest, picked it up along with the helmet, and turned towards the main tent.