Madrily leapt at Geruke, and her shadow devoured his form. She flung her fist at his face, his hand flopped away from the hilt of his claymore, blood sprayed out of his nose, and he tumbled onto the coarse cobbled street.

Lyrassa’s blade hissed out of its scabbard, her body blurred and she lunged at Madrily. Metal battered metal. Her and Lyrassa's blades clashed.

“Put your sword away, Lyrassa,” Barsanna said. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I know you’re a dischan as well,” Lyrassa said, swiping Madrily’s blade to the side and dashing backwards. “If you’re gonna kill Geru, then I’m sure you’ll kill me as well. If not now, then soon.”

“Neither I nor my mother will kill either of you,” Madrily said, lowering her sword. “So put your sword away.” She turned to glare down at Geruke, making him lurch. “I’m just angry, and he deserves a beating.”

“Fair enough,” Lyrassa snorted, sheathed her sword, and grinned down at Geruke. “It’s not like he isn’t used to beatings.”

Madrily dashed at Geruke whilst he staggered to his feet. As soon as he stood, her steel boot shot at his stomach. He could already imagine himself pivoting to the side of the kick, rushing up to her, and whacking her in the face, but he stood still.

Feeling his dinner rush to his throat, his abdomen ate her kick. He stumbled backwards and retched. Seeing tears drip down Madrily’s grimacing face, his stomach twisted and a rancid stench pummelled his nose. Vomit gushed out of his mouth to splatter all over the cobbled street, blood dappling the horrid stuff.

After spitting some more out, Madrily’s steel fist zoomed at his face, lifted his feet into the air, and sent him twirling through it. Crashing on the ground, face first, the familiar feeling of widening cuts, growing bruises, and sharpening aches smothered every inch of his body.

The woman who loved him earlier in the day struck him, stomped on him, and stabbed him with iron knees and elbows just like Friedroth did; a man he violently hated. Kicking him in the stomach again, he clenched his abdomen and flipped to his back.

Slamming, crushing, and shattering his entire being more than any kick, punch, blade, or hammer; her shadow smothered and tear-ridden face frowned down at him. There was no rage in that expression; just acceptance.

“I know you like him, dear, but,” Barsanna scurried over to her daughter and patted her back. “I’m sorry, but you need to kill him.” She whispered something in Madrily’s ear, but Geruke could guess it was something about needing to kill Lyrassa as well.

“No,” Madrily said, turning away from Barsanna and wiping tears from her eyes. “They’re excellent fighters and if you pay them two thousand each for saving the townspeople, then they won’t tell anyone about us being dischans,” She turned and glared at Geruke and Lyrassa. “Is that right?”

Both of them nodded. As he staggered to his feet, Lyrassa smiled and held her palm up towards him. Despite the pain that coursed through his body and his heart because of his actions, he high-fived her. He was one step closer to getting the Templaga off of his back and living a good life.

“Fine,” Barsanna said, crossing her arms. “You can have that one Madrily, but you’ll stay with me in this Town, right? I can send a couple of soldiers with Geruke and Lyrassa in your place.”

“No,” Madrily said. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. None of the soldiers left stand a chance against Snakard. They’d be more useful staying here and protecting the town; protecting you.”

“You should stay with your mother,” Lyrassa said, surprising Geruke. Madrily was a powerful fighter; the two of them needed her to defeat Snakard. So why was she doing this? “The Town’s Watch needs you at a critical time like this.”

“Why would you care?” Madrily said, narrowing her eyes at Lyrassa. “Not to mention, the last time the two of you fought Snakard on your own, Geru ran away, leaving you for dead. And this time it won’t just be Snakard.”

“We were tired that time. This time we’ll be fully rested and ready to fight him.”

“Unlikely,” Madrily turned to Barsanna. “If you feel unsafe, then I won’t take any of the Town’s Watch’s soldiers with me. In fact, even if you don’t, I won’t. I don’t want bandits or pirates to hear about the absence of tons of Town’s Watch soldiers and use that as an opportunity to attack. The three of us should be fine on our own.”

“I’m not concerned about myself, dear,” Barsanna said, grasping her daughter’s hand. “How are the three of you supposed to defeat them by yourselves? How can three people defeat a pirate crew of fifty?”

“Combat isn’t just about numbers, mother,” Madrily grasped and squeezed her mother’s hands with both of her own. “We could ambush them, we could use our environment to our advantage, we could set traps, or we could bait them into getting attacked by monsters - there's all sorts we could do.” She pulled her mother into a hug. “I promise you we’ll be safe.”

Barsanna hugged back and sighed. “I concede,” she then pulled away and nodded with a smile. “I’ll get started with gathering supplies for your journey then.”

Madrily waved her mother goodbye as she walked away and to her manor.

“Now that we’ve sorted out all of that nonsense,” Lyrassa said. “How about we try to figure out how we’ll catch up to and defeat Snakard’s crew.” She pointed at the cloud of smoke that rose to the sky from the town’s port. “The pirates burned all the ships. The nearest coastal settlement that actually has a port with ships is Peadon City.”

“It would take a long time to get there,” Geruke said, crossing his arms.

“How about we sleep on it?” Madrily said, yawning and stretching. “It’s been an awful and awfully long day. There are only a few hours until sunrise, and it’d probably take a few hours for my mother to finish gathering supplies for our journey. It might help us come up with better ideas.”

“Or help us come to our senses and realize how dumb what we’re trying to do is in the first place,” Lyrassa said with a grin.

Madrily chuckled. “Or that.”

“Snakard’s ship was a carrack,” Lyrassa said before bringing a glass of wine to her lips and guzzling it down. As she refreshingly expired, she clinked and placed it on the mahogany table. Sitting next to Geruke, she wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her black nightgown. “If we travel to Peadon City, we could buy a caravel, which is much faster than a carrack.”

Candles burned on the circular rim of a glimmering chandelier, showering an orange lustre on the mahogany table and vermillion carpet, and merging with the golden sunrise that shone through the rose windows. Smothering the hall with even more light, the sparkling silver candleholders that lined the middle of the dining table shone glints of gold on the bronze frames of the paintings that covered the mahogany walls.

“It’d take Snakard approximately five days to sail to Tennivoor Island with his carrack,” Lyrassa continued, plucking a grape from a shining ceramic bowl that had paintings of roses circling the exterior. “Whereas, it’d take us half the time if we sailed with a caravel.”

“But the problem is that it’ll take us five days to ride to Peadon City, the nearest galladrian settlement with a port,” Madrily said before picking up a loaf of bread from a silver platter and tearing off a piece to pop into her mouth. Sitting opposite Geruke, she brushed her hands on her white nightgown.

“Not if we buy a huxkrana horse from Stradrid City,” Lyrassa said. “Because I assume your mother doesn’t own any, does she?”

Madrily shook her head. “She doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t the Templaga have huxkrana horses?” Geruke asked before sipping wine and abstaining from swallowing, wanting to savour the taste. He leaned back and indulged in the comfort of the cushioned mahogany chair he sat on, and the soft faux fur carpet that tickled his feet.

Rubbing the smooth silk of the black nightshirt and kerchief he wore, images of his childhood flashed in his mind. He smiled. It was weird that he borrowed it from Barsanna, clothes that used to be owned by her dead husband. It must’ve been hard for her to let a filthy blackmailing and blacksmithing bastard like him wear such a thing or even sleep a night in such a place. But he shrugged. He already caused her plenty of pain; something like wearing the wrong clothes was trivial in comparison.

“They do,” Madrily said. “But they won’t let us use any. Not to mention, last night they fled town when the pirate’s attack began. It would be best to leave town before they come back, because I doubt they’d let you leave, Geru.”

Lyrassa nodded. “With huxkrana horses, it’ll take us four days. Three days to travel to Stradrid city with regular horses and one day to travel from Stradrid city to Peadon City.”

“It’ll take five days for Snakard to land at Tennivoor, and it'll take us four days to travel to Peadon City. How are we supposed to catch up to Snakard if we’ll still be at sea on the fifth day?”

“It’ll take two days for us to travel from Peadon to Tennivoor’s most southern coastal settlement; Ranreich Town. However, whilst it'll be impossible for us to get to Ranreich Town before him, that doesn’t matter. We should gamble on the assumption that Snakard will need to transport the prisoners to the capital of Tennivoor, Sephizeth City, where Xisanisto will probably be. With regular horses, it’ll take him three days to travel from Ranreich town to Sephizeth City. However, it will take us one day with huxkrana horses.”

“There’s a lot of assumptions there,” Geruke said. “Whose to say that they’ll be transporting the prisoners from Ranreich to Sephizeth? If we were to assume that Xisanisto wanted to torture these prisoners to indulge in his hatred of galladrians, why wouldn’t he travel to Ranreich and torture the prisoners there?”

“You're making a lot of assumptions yourself. Even if your assumption about Xisanisto wanting to torture the prisoners is correct - it probably isn’t - wouldn’t it make sense for him to want the prisoners to come to his home? If he’s doing this for the sake of entertainment, wouldn’t he want to indulge in it within the comfort of his own home?”

“I’ll trust your judgement,” Geruke said with a grin. “I’m sure someone like you would know much more than I about the habits of psychopathic mass murderers killers.”

Madrily snorted and coughed, choking on the wine she drank.

“Hilarious, I nearly laughed.” Lyrassa leaned to the side and punched Geruke’s arm. “And the only reason I nearly did so is the fact that you’ve probably killed more people than I and Maddy combined.” Lyrassa snorted and shook her head. “Anyway, regardless of whether Snakard will or won’t transport the prisoners to Sephizeth City, we’ll have to gamble on that being the case. There’s no other way of catching up to him.”

“So what do we do when we land on Tennivoor?” Madrily asked. “Ambush them in the jungles? Bait monsters into attacking them?”

“The latter would be ideal. We should be able to get to the jungles before Snakard because with huxkrana horses it'd take us a day to travel to the capital, but three days for Snakard with regular horses.”

“If they use regular horses,” Geruke said.

“We have no choice but to gamble on the assumption that they'll use regular horses and that Xisanisto won’t kill or torture or whatever to the prisoners at Ranreich Town. The only other way I can think of us preparing for those possibilities would be to get our hands on grand nastagles. But it’s not like the Countess of Stradrid or the Count of Peadon have grand nastagles, and there certainly aren’t any in a nearby province.”

“I could have my mother send a nastagle to the Count of Arrance,” Madrily said. “He could then contact the Duke of Rileechi.”

“They’re ludicrously expensive to borrow, let alone own,” Geruke said. “I doubt any of us could afford it. That’s mainly because the royal family doesn’t want anyone who isn’t a Duke getting a hand on one. Which will require secrecy and risk us making enemies with the royal family. So grand nastagles aren’t an option.”

“It’s a win-win,” Lyrassa laid back in her chair and gazed at the paintings on the wall. “If we catch up to them, then we get a chance at saving the prisoners, and if we fail, we don’t have to fight people who’ll most likely kill us.”

“No,” Madrily said, clenching her loaf of bread with a trembling hand. “If we fail, then twenty innocent people, including our friend, Lerute, will die.”

Geruke agreed. It wasn’t a win-win situation at all. Whilst he cared little for the nineteen strangers, he needed the two thousand rubounds Barsanna would reward him by saving them. He'd also need the money Snakard seemed to keep with him on his ship. He couldn’t rely on his blackmailing of Barsanna any longer ever since she told Madrily about it. If he tried to push the blackmailing further and just blatantly forced a plain bribery, Madrily would probably attack him and at the very least imprison him. He did not know if he could defeat her or not, especially considering how he froze against her last night.

With the money, he could pay off his debts. Without it, he’d have nothing to show the Templaga, who’d be furious after finding out that he left for so long. Which would result in the Templaga capturing him, beating him, and chucking him over to the Infernal Fortress where he’d die a slow and painful death.

Unable to sleep or relax during the few hours he sat up in bed, he was exhausted. But ruminating on what he had to do filled him with energy. He stood and left, leaving his loaf of bread half-eaten; eager to get this over with; anxious to fight Snakard once again.

Geruke sat on a cushioned horse's saddle. An embroidered caparison with white, silver, and blue floral patterns rippled in the morning’s cool breeze. Underneath the caparison, the white fur of the horse that pulled a mahogany supply carriage gleamed silver as if metallic.

Bringing flashes of his past, the gambeson he wore under his glimmering silver plate armour snugly hugged his body, bringing him a familiar and comforting sensation. A belt filled with daggers wrapped around his waist. Two short swords swung in scabbards and hung from both sides of his belt. His parent's claymore laid in a scabbard that he strapped to his back.

He was annoyed with the way Barsanna treated him and how she wanted to kill him, but he was still grateful that Barsanna provided him, Lyrassa and Madrily so much to help them on their journey. Probably a bit too much; their horses didn’t need to be dressed as if they were going to a noble’s ball. In fact, it just made them stand out. But he was grateful for the sentiment, at least.

A servant heaved a sack of what looked like bread over to them and dropped it next to Geruke’s horse. He hopped off of his horse to grab it and dropped it beside the rest of their supplies that lied in the carriage's body.

“Why don’t we just ride with two horses, Maddy?” Lyrassa asked as she scurried up to Geruke and hugged his arm. Her plate armour that curved tightly around her body pressed and clinked against his. The sweet aroma of perfume was stronger and sharper this time, rattling his heart harder. Caressing his neck, her brown and wavy ponytail fluttered towards him in the breeze. The scent of honey wafted from the soap she used to wash her hair. He had to stop himself from sniffing, fearful of the cackling, and the smug smirk she’d shoot at him if she noticed."You don’t need to worry about being forced to sit with him, I’ll gladly suffer through it."

“I didn’t ask my mother for three horses because I’m afraid of sitting with him,” Madrily said after chuckling. “Whilst travelling with two horses means we could afford to carry less hay and grain, the horse carrying our supplies will get tired easily. We need to ride as fast as possible so we should switch which horse will carry the carriage periodically. The more horses we have, the more time each horse gets to rest.”

“Fine,” Lyrassa said as she drew away from Geruke and strolled up to her horse. His body felt colder and her lack of presence brought the stench of dirt, grass, and manure back to him, pummeling his nose. The thought of sitting next to her during their travels filled him with excitement and would turn their mission into more of a merry journey, but unfortunately, logistics made such an occurrence less likely. And the swift remembrance of what he did the earlier night snatched away its significance. He left her for dead on Snakard’s ship. Why would she care about him?

He sighed as he hopped onto his horse.

As the three of them rode away from the manor, Barsanna and Maladore said their goodbyes and wished them luck with hopeful smiles. Riding through the town’s cobbled street, civilians waved at them from shutters, doorways, and some ran up to them and gifted them baskets filled with food to help them on their journey. Some even gave wooden or stone necklaces, bracelets, and earrings they claimed to provide the wearers good luck. The townspeople cheered as they rode through the street with their glimmering plate armour.

They called them heroes.

Geruke liked the sound of that. It felt good to have their dreaming smiles, hoping and sparkling eyes, and palms slapped together in prayer, aimed at him. It pleasantly contrasted the glares, scowls and tearful dying faces that shot him with heart-wrenching shanks of despair. The type of facial expression he became all too used to last night and in the last few years.

The faces he saw as he was called a hero reminded him of when he rode through cities or military camps with his parents and sister a few years ago. Did they praise him and his family and fill him and them with pride because of their expensive clothing and fancy weapons? Was it because people knew of their wealth and strength? Or was it for their good deeds?

It was because of their wealth and strength. When Geruke performed good deeds, they ripped everything he loved away from him. So he rode onwards with Lyrassa and Madrily and out of Archi Town, hoping to become strong and wealthy again, so he could bring back what was taken from him.