Fourth day on the road, and things have been very peaceful. Just like Aryn wanted. Maybe the sight of four, well-armed guards is enough to scare most common bandits away? The scenery doesn’t change that much. It’s still mostly green plains, hills and the dirt road. Some say it gets a little boring after a while, but Arthur likes it. It means the land is full of life. The forest to the east is getting thicker, and that’s something to pay special attention to.

“Mr. Donald, armed men ahead! Three of them!” Aryn announces as he walks slightly ahead of the caravan.

“Bandits?” Donald asks.

“Unlikely. They’re standing in the middle of the road. It seems like they’re waiting for us.”

“Everyone get ready.” Donald calls. “We’ll hear them out first, but be ready for a scrap if they want one.”

Arthur and another guard jump out of the back of the cart. The black-haired youth taps the pommel of his mother’s sword and takes a deep breath to calm down. This could be his first taste of truly deathly combat.

‘Mom was ruthless, but she was never going to kill me. Just make it seem like she would. This is different.’

They approach and see three people standing in the middle of the road, and one of them catches Arthur’s attention. It’s a woman. She looks young. Silver colored eyes; black, long straight hair that almost reaches her hips; thin eyebrows; a slender, yet athletic figure hidden under a purple tunic, a leather cuirass and thick linen pants.

She is… unbelievably cute.

Arthur swallows, but forces himself to shake off those thoughts. Not only are the two other armed guys behind her, the woman herself has a shortsword strapped at both sides of her narrow waist.

“It’s not polite to stand there in the middle of the road, you know?” Donald shouts from a distance, stopping about 10 meters before reaching them. “Someone might mistake you for bandits.”

“I assure you, sir, we are not bandits.” The woman says, taking a sheet of paper from one of her companions and raising it. “We’re from the Dusty Hall. We would like a word with you.”

‘The Dusty Hall? What’s that?’

“Aryn, Arthur, go to them. You two, get your bows ready.” Donald orders before looking to the side at his partner. “What’s wrong, Melvin? Worried?”

“They could be faking it.” The second boss says, swallowing hard. “I say we get the guys up on the cart and make a run for it. They can’t follow us on foot.”

“We could lose some cargo in the process, though. Let’s hear them out. Our boys are strong enough and even outnumber them.”

“There could be more in hiding!”

“Where? Look around you, Melvin. It’s mostly plains here.”

“The woods are nearby.”

“About 10 minutes away.”

Melvin starts sweating, but it’s reassuring for Arthur to see that those two make a balanced pair. Donald seems more daring while Melvin is more cautious. No wonder they’ve been in business for over 7 years.

“…Fine, but let’s make it quick.” Melvin gives up.

“Alright Arthur, on me.” Aryn says. “Let me do the talking. You watch for sudden movements. Don’t be afraid to cut some hands off if they try anything funny.”

Arthur swallows, but nods. He’s going to the capital to become a knight. He knows he will eventually need to kill people. Hopefully bandits and criminals, and even then he hopes it won’t be many.

“Yes.” He answers. This is reality. He knows even his mother’s hands are stained with human blood. That’s the kind of world they live in.

The two guards walk up to the three strangers. On the way, Aryn speaks.

“Donald didn’t tell you this, but I should. If worse comes to worse, they’ll run away and leave us here.”

The young man’s head snaps to look at the older guard “W-What!?”

“That’s one of the dangers of being a guard. Cargo is more important than our lives. Of course, that’s just standard protocol for caravans. I wouldn’t be working with the guy for 6 years if he followed standard protocol.” He snickers.

“So that means…?”

“For him, worst case scenario is we already have a sword through the chest.”

That helps Arthur relax a bit. “That means we can expect the others to give us back up.”

“Yes. Watch out you’re not in the path for arrows. They’re good shots, but not THAT good.”

“Noted.”

Stopping about five steps away from the strangers, Aryn addresses them. “Well, who are you and what do you want?”

“My name’s Marina.” The woman says, pointing her thumb to herself. “Like I said, we’re here on behalf of a client. We’re mercenaries from the Dusty Hall.”

‘There it is again. Mercenaries? Is the Dusty Hall some kind of mercenary group?’

The girl, Marina, steps forward and leaves the sheet of paper on the ground before stepping back. No one has drawn their weapons, so Aryn is mostly safe to walk up and take the paper and back away.

“This is your contract, right?” He asks, reading through it.

“Yes. We’re currently on a job for a man named Eliot Ulster.”

Both Arthur and Aryn flinch at that name, and the older guard immediately confirms that name is indeed in the contract.

Eliot Ulster. The second prince of the Radiant Kingdom.

‘Why is the prince hiring mercenaries? What’s going on here?’

“So? What do you want?” Aryn asks.

“We only ask that you let us inspect your cargo. We won’t take anything. We just need to know what you’re carrying.”

“I’ll ask the bosses if they let you see the paperwork.”

“No, we need to see the cargo itself.” Marina insists, making Aryn raise an eyebrow.

“You think we’re smuggling something?”

The girl doesn’t speak. She just closes her eyes and lets her silence do the talking.

“Whatever. I’ll still ask the boss.” Aryn shrugs.

“Thank you.” She gives both him and Arthur an honest smile, and Arthur can’t help but stare back. There’s something about her that interests him. Not only is she beautiful, but she seems… strong.

‘She can’t be carrying two swords just for show.’

The two guards go back to Donald and explain everything.

“We can’t let them get close!” Melvin insists. “We have no obligation to accept their request. It could be a trap!”

“Doesn’t seem like it. The paperwork is legitimate.” Donald says. “And it’s a request from the prince himself.”

“That boy has no real authority! He won’t even be the next king!”

“Calm down, Melvin. All we have to do is let them inspect the cargo. If they mess with it, we take care of them and issue a formal complaint to the Dusty Hall. We could even profit from it.”

“It’s not worth the risk, Donald!”

“Why are you so nervous?” Donald asks, sounding suspicious. “It’s not like this is the first time we come across something like this.”

“I-I heard it in St. Fiona. B-Bandits are impersonating guild mercenaries to steal caravans.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I-I didn’t think it was true.”

“We can ask only one of them to inspect the cargo while the others stay away. They’re the ones with the request, so we can put as many conditions as we want.”

It goes on for a few more minutes, but eventually Melvin runs out of arguments.

They allow the mercenaries to get closer, but only one of the two men goes to inspect the boxes while being watched closely by two guards. Arthur and Aryn are tasked with watching the girl and the second guy, and Arthur still can’t keep his eyes off Marina.

The girl notices this, of course, and crosses her arms and smirks. “What? Do I look so strong that you have to keep your eyes on me so much?”

“Y-Yeah.” Her addressing him takes Arthur by surprise, so he answers and nods hastily. “…I’ve seen people carrying two swords, but usually the second one is a backup. That doesn’t seem the case with you.” He explains.

“Huh. You actually have a good eye. And here I thought you were another idiot about to throw a pick up line or something.” She says with a grin.

“I’m not good at those. You’re very pretty, though.” Arthur says, smiling honestly. This causes Aryn besides him to cover his mouth to hold his laughter, making the boy realize what he just said and he starts blushing madly and shifting in place.

“Never mind.” Marina shakes her head, disappointed. “Yeah, I use both swords at the same time.”

“D-Does it work?” He asks, clinging desperately to the chance to change the topic. Besides, he’s seen travelers around Yellowseed Village before who try to use two swords, but they all end up just flailing them around.

“I make it work.” Marina smiles confidently and proudly. “It’s a family style.”

But when she looks past Arthur, her smile falls. Then they hear it.

The sound of a commotion and pained screams break the conversation. Everyone turns to the back of the cart to see one extra person standing there, the corpses of the one mercenary and the two other guards laying at their feet. The moss green cloak that covers the assassin’s whole body is stained with blood.

‘How!? Where did they come from and how did they kill three people in so little time!?’

Arthur’s body tenses. His blood runs cold and his thoughts stop for but a second, more than enough to die in battle.

“Dammit!” Marina screams and unsheathes both swords, holding one on each hand.

With an enraged scream and the flow of magic enhancing his body, Aryn charges with his spear towards the cloaked figure, leaving Arthur to deal with the two mercenaries in front of him… if they truly are mercenaries.

His body is stiff, but he quickly draws his mother’s sword. The blade is duller, heavier and thicker than a usual one, but he’s familiar with it. He holds it in front of himself, his stance practiced and ready as he covers Aryn’s back.

Cold sweat runs down his forehead and the back of his neck. He thought he was ready for anything. Just now he realizes how stupid it was to think that.

“What the hell happened!?” Donald’s pained question lingers in the air.

“Get out of the way! They’re not with us!” Marina shouts at Arthur, her face twisting in anger.

The one other mercenary feels something behind him and turns, but two crossbow bolts hit him in the left shoulder and in the right leg, making him fall to his knee in pain.

Where did those come from? Arthur follows the trajectory and sees a faint glint of metal coming from the grass, 10 meters away. That blew their cover.

Two men stand up from their hiding spot, the grass itself. Their clothes, as green as the grass they laid on, starts to discolor. No, it would be best to say they’re returning to their normal black color, as if some green, gooey substance was sliding off of them.

“You fucking BASTARDS!” Marina shouts at the top of her lungs, and the familiar sensation of flowing prana can be felt oozing from her. She’s using Prana Flow, too.

…No. There’s something more to it. She lunges forward, covering the same as five steps in a single instant, swords at the ready.

Arthur shakes his head and snaps himself out of his surprise and hesitance. The people who already know conflict moved immediately while the rookie still doesn’t know what to do. His mind starts running again, and he knows that the first thing is to secure Donald and Melvin, his bosses. As much as he wants to help Aryn, he has to do his job, first.

Besides, the senior guard is actually holding his own. The thrusts of his spear are sharp and precise. He keeps his distance from the unfamiliar foe while they step back further and dodge the attacks.

Arthur takes advantage of the commotion and secures the caravan owners, pushing himself through his shaking legs to lead them to crouch behind the cart, safe from the crossbow fire. They follow, and poor Melvin is looking absolutely miserable. He’s shaking and his face is pale. Arthur doesn’t blame him. It turned out he was right.

Once they’re both secure, Donald shouts. “Go help Aryn! That girl is keeping the other two busy!”

It only takes a glance to confirm he’s right.

The two bandits had to throw their crossbows aside and draw their swords to fight Marina. Even in a two against one, the girl is holding her own, using her two swords to parry their attacks and keep them at safe distance. Her movements are swift and precise, but Arthur has no time to watch.

Prana runs through his body, and he allows himself to build some confidence. Prana can be felt by those who can use it, almost like a faint heat signal. Right now, he can feel 5 people using it: Marina, Aryn, the two bandits and the cloaked figure. They’re all more experienced than him. They know how to fight, so Arthur has to press his only current advantage.

He grits his teeth, kicks off the ground and raises his sword. He doesn’t bother with some sort of sneak attack, because there’s no way people aren’t noticing him.

If the heat signals from the five veterans are like candles, then Arthur’s is a flaming torch. His Prana burns with a higher intensity, giving him the simple, yet effective advantage of raw power.

He can’t do fancy moves like Marina’s quick lounge, so he dashes as fast as his legs can carry him, covering five meters in a second. The speed and power of his charge manages to take the assassin by surprise.

The young guard brings his sword down. It’s a practiced, fast and heavy strike, form nailed into his body by brute force by his mother so he could do it in his sleep if he needed to. Yet the sword is stopped.

Naked arms come out of the obscuring cloak and stop the blade, putting both forearms in front of their face. Not only that, but the loud clang of metal hitting metal echoes across the plains. Despite his strike carrying enough power to push the assassin back and make them drag their feet, their arms are completely unharmed.

Arthur doesn’t have the time to be surprised. He notices a knee coming his way, directed at his stomach. But the blow never reaches him. The tip of Aryn’s spear finds their enemy’s head, making it recoil with the sound of metal on metal once more.

The spear’s blade did pierce through the cloth of the cloak, however, catching it. Aryn yanks it with all his might, hoping to bring the assassin down with it, but they slip out of their covering garments in a simple, fluid motion before stepping back.

Both Arthur and Aryn are shocked by what they see. It’s a woman. A… lightly dressed woman. She has an athletic body which they can see because the only thing covering the upper half of her body is a black leather breastplate that only protects her ample chest. Her toned stomach, arms, shoulders, neck and head are completely exposed. She’s wearing thick black linen pants and matching boots.

‘Hot. Wait, no! Why would I focus on that!? Is it a tactic to distract men, perhaps? If so, it almost worked on me.’

Arthur swallows and curses himself mentally for letting the thought of how attractive she is even cross his mind. Her long, black hair is tied up in a high, wild ponytail. Her small, dark eyes look at them… expressionless, almost dead.

Even as Aryn and him are gritting their teeth and tightly holding onto their weapons, the woman in front of them shows… nothing. She killed three people and she feels… nothing?

Aryn takes a quick glance back. It lasts less than a second.

“The girl is still fighting the other two. Her partner is wounded on the ground.” He informs. “Donald and Melvin are still hiding.”

“Do we charge her?” Arthur asks with a whisper.

“Yes. Try to pin her down.”

“Got it.”

With that decided, they charge.