Ashley sat out on the lawn watching her husband train, the warm breeze blowing her hair across her face. Smiling softly, she reached up and tied it back in a ponytail.

  “Lady Ashley, Master Zenrom!”

  Turning to see a panting servant rushing towards them, Ashley raised her eyebrow, wondering what had happened.

  Tomas never runs unless it’s important, she thought, looking at his sweaty face.

  “Catch your breath, Tomas, what happened?” she asked, standing up and dusting herself off.

  After a few moments, Tomas caught his breath and managed to speak. “Master Maliri has called for both of you. He looks extremely distraught!”

  A chill crept down Ashley’s spine. She beckoned Zenrom, who had already begun walking towards them. “Father is calling us—it seems serious!”

  They rushed back to the manor.

  Ashley barely noticed her surroundings, her heart beating rapidly. She couldn’t explain it, but deep inside, she knew something was terribly wrong. Maybe it was the way Tomas had looked at her, or perhaps the fact that her father had allowed his negative emotions to be seen by his servants. For a merchant like Maliri, even a single slip could have a ripple effect on the value of his caravans.

  Happy and confident is the only emotion Father shows his servants. Something is wrong.

  Throwing open her father’s office door without knocking, she stormed inside, Zenrom close behind.

  “Father, what's wrong?” she cried.

  “Ashley, Zenrom, you should sit down,” her father said, his normally happy face waxy and drained, his massive forehead deflated.

  Swallowing hard, Ashley sat on a couch facing him, her arm snaking around Zenrom’s for stability.

  Her father took a moment to organize his thoughts before speaking, his hands balled up in fists. “While returning from Kandula, Hagan’s caravan was attacked. From what we know, only one guard returned alive. Hagan didn't make it.”

  It felt as if someone had struck Ashley in her stomach. The room instantly felt too cramped, too hot. She needed air. Taking short, shallow breaths, she managed to speak, her voice sounding strange.

  “Uncle Hagan… is dead?” she whispered, gripping Zenrom's arm as hard as she could, her mind refusing to accept it.

  How can this happen? Uncle Hagan is an Arcane Lord.

  “Master Maliri, what happened?” Zenrom asked, anger and disbelief tightening his posture.

  Maliri wiped his face with a towel, his hands trembling. “The surviving guard reported that they were attacked by bandits.”

  “Bandits? Who are they!?” Ashley shouted, leaping to her feet. Rage as she had never felt before surged through her. “Who killed Uncle Hagan? Who dares to attack our caravan? I will kill them all!” Tears streamed down her face.

  “Bandit Lord Talta’s group controls that area,” Zenrom said, his voice flat. “They must have broken our agreement.”

  “Agreement? What agreement?” Ashley demanded, turning toward him

  “We have agreements with most of the strongest bandit groups,” her father explained, running his fingers through his hair. “After fighting what felt like every bandit, marauder, and sellsword in the land, we realized that it was cheaper to just pay the most promising ones and help them grow. Every time we crossed into their territory, we paid them and helped resupply their food. This allowed them to grow into Bandit Lords. In return, they left our caravan alone.”

  “So, what went wrong?” Ashley demanded.

  “From what the guard told me, Talta was replaced a few months ago. The new leader didn’t honor our agreement,” Maliri said heavily, sitting down and sinking into his chair. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something more, but no words came out.

  Before the silence could settle, Ashley wiped her tears away and said what everyone was thinking.

  “How are we going to destroy this group? We can’t let this go. We must retaliate. Our reputation, our goods, and Uncle Hagan’s death demand it!”

  “Of course, we will retaliate!” Maliri said, turning to Zenrom. “Zenrom, round up every guard that we can spare without leaving the town undefended. I want you to handle this personally.”

  “Don't worry, Father-in-Law. Hagan was more than a colleague to me. I will make sure he is avenged.”

  Nodding, Maliri faced Ashley. “We’ll also call in a few favors from the Mercenary Guild. We’ll request Arcane Knights. Ashley, I want you in charge of that. I will look into who this new leader is and how they were able to kill Hagan.”

  “Yes, Father,” Ashley agreed, relieved that she could channel her fury into something productive.

  “Zenrom, how long will it take for you to get everyone armed and ready?” she asked.

  “Three days. As long as the Mercenary Guild doesn’t need more time, we’ll be out of the city in three days.”

  “Three days,” Ashley repeated, nodding her head. “I’ll make sure the guild sends us the men we need by that time.”

  Looking down at her hands, she swore to herself. I don’t care who’s responsible, I’ll get them all.

  A sharp whistle broke through the air up ahead. June gently pulled back on the reins of his horse.

  “Whoa, whoa,” he quietly muttered, patting the horse’s neck as the beast came to a stop.

  “We rest here for a couple of minutes!” Zenrom shouted from the front, his voice carrying far. It had been hours since they’d left Maliri’s estate.

  Grunting out loud, June slid off his horse, stretching his stiff muscles. Around him was a group of forty warriors, each one a veteran in their own right, the best that money could buy in the short time they had.

  Out of the group, three of them stood out. An older man with thick gray hair that reached his shoulders, a woman so large that she made her horse look like a pony, and a spearman who looked too clean to be in this line of work. By the way the rest of the mercenaries acted around them, June knew they could fight.

  “June, are you really better?” Shina asked, pulling her horse alongside June. “I know you want to avenge Hagan, but you were stabbed just a couple of months ago. I'm surprised that Zenrom is allowing you to join us.”

  Feeling irritated yet grateful that Shina cared for him, June adjusted his clothes, un-bunching his pants that had ridden up.

  “I'm fine, Shina. Grandpa Veston said my healing speed is unnatural—something about my crest,” he said, looking down at the small turtle crest on the back of his hand. “Turtles are known for their long life. Maybe I just have stronger vitality than others.”

  “Stronger? You heal faster than anyone I know,” Shina snorted. “And I know lots of people. But listen—even if you heal fast, once you die, it's over. I want you to stay at the back this time. Even Hagan was killed.”

  June nodded, fingers brushing the scar on his stomach.

  “You don't have to worry about me. I know my strengths… and weaknesses.” He hated to admit it, but being stabbed had made him more cautious.

  “I thought a lot about it when I was in bed. You don’t need to worry.”

  “If you say so,” Shina said skeptically, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Remember, if you need anyone to talk to, you can just talk to Cam. He won’t interrupt you. He might not have anything to say, but he’s a good listener. I talk at him all the time.”

  “I don’t know if you can call that talking to someone,” June muttered hesitantly, his eyebrows scrunching up. “But… thanks for the advice.”

  Glancing over at June, Shina laughed out loud, her laughter pulling a smile from his face. As the two of them talked, a second whistle sounded from up ahead, causing June to perk up.

  “Breaks over!” Shina called, jumping back onto her horse, causing the animal to step in place for a second.

  Following her lead, June climbed back onto his horse and nudged the animal forward with his heels. “Shina? At the pace we’re going, how long will it take to reach our destination?” he asked, his mount easily keeping up with hers.

  “We keep this pace until the next town. There, we’ll have fresh horses waiting for us. With the new horses, we ride to our next stop and spend the night there. Food and shelter should already be arranged. If we keep changing horses every stop, we’ll reach the place where Hagan was attacked in four days.”

  “Four days,” June muttered, silently calculating the distance they would have traveled. “That’s… much farther than I expected.”

  “I know.” Shina nodded, nudging her horse into a quicker pace. “We’re speeding up! Don’t get left behind.”

  Nodding silently to her, June squeezed his legs together, sending his horse into a trot.

  The four days flew by in a blur, filled with constant hard riding and brief rest periods. At each stop, they changed their exhausted horses for fresh, waiting mounts. Sitting atop another unfamiliar horse, June couldn’t help but marvel at the strength and influence of wealth.

  “San, Shina—do you know anyone besides Master Maliri who could arrange this many horses for us to use in such a short time?” he asked, trying to tally how many horses they’d gone through.

  Laughing hollowly, San stretched his lanky body before answering. “No one else could. The amount of money you’d need to have this many horses ready is staggering. Only Master Maliri has that much pull. I don’t think smaller kingdoms could pull this off.”

  “I don't like agreeing with San, but he’s right—only Boss could do this,” Shina added, her tired, dirty face staring straight ahead. “We should be close to where Hagan was attacked,” she muttered.

  Hearing that, June touched the bow hanging from his horse’s side. His fatigue vanished as adrenaline crept through him.

  A few hours later, the warriors slowed. The only sound was the panting of their horses.

  “Are you sure it was here?” June heard Zenrom ask the lone surviving guard as the man guided them to the attack site.

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  “Yes, Sir. This is the place.”

  Nodding, Zenrom raised his hand in the air, waving it above his head in a circular fashion. “Search the area! I want every inch of this place checked! Find where they took our caravan!”

  “Sir!”

  Sliding off his horse, June stayed close to Shina and San, carefully studying the surroundings for signs of a struggle.

  “Shina, keep your eyes open for danger. June and I will look for tracks,” San called out, already crouching with his eyes glued to the ground. Hearing Shina grunt in acknowledgment, June drew Aether to his eyes. The colors of the forest turned vibrant and clear instantly, almost as if he were in a different world. The ancient trees towered above them like a silent beast watching them.

  Feeling goosebumps appear on his arms, June slowly stepped farther and farther from their original location, pausing every so often to scan the area for bandits. So far, there was nothing.

  “Over here!” San’s voice rang from the top of a small hill, his voice carrying to everyone in the vicinity. June’s heart kicked into a quicker rhythm. Abandoning the patch of bushes he was inspecting, he hurried toward the call.

  He reached San and looked down the far side of the hill, and his face instantly turned gaunt.

  Scattered across the slope were the remains of the caravan guards, their rotting bodies swarming with insects and decay. It was a miracle he hadn’t smelled them from where he had left his horse.

  “Goddess…”

  June glanced over his shoulder to see who had spoken and found Winks walking up to him, the man’s gruff face flushed with anger. Teeth clenched, Winks hissed, “They just threw them down there like garbage. Didn’t even have the decency to bury them.”

  A warm breeze slowly blew by, bringing the nauseating smell of death towards them. Staggering back as the rancid air filled his lungs, June felt his stomach lurch, bile scorching his throat as his body protested the sudden smell.

  “I-I think I’m going to throw up,” he managed to stammer before breaking sight from the dead bodies and running back. Forcing slow, steady breaths, he tried to gather himself.

  “June,” Winks said, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, “take some of the mercenaries and start digging a massive grave. Let us handle this part. We’re more used to this kind of work.”

  Knowing he’d be useless if he stayed, June nodded and stepped back gingerly.

  Ignoring the stomach-turning stench, Winks and San quickly descended into the grisly scene, their determination to find Hagan stronger than any physical revulsion.

  Gathering a few equally pale-faced mercenaries, June spent the rest of the day digging a grave in the dark soil of the forest, making sure the grave was deep enough to keep scavengers away. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, left streaks of mud across his face as he climbed out of the pit.

  The grave was enormous, deep enough for two grown men standing atop each other, and wide enough for ten men lying side by side. And still, it wasn’t enough. The men would have to be stacked on top of each other. June would have liked to make the pit wider, but the thick roots and buried stones made that impossible. If not for the mercenary’s ability to draw on the surrounding Aether, he doubted they would have finished before nightfall.

  Taking a moment to catch his breath, he looked to his side and saw Zenrom and Reges talking. Feeling a mixture of exhaustion and restlessness, he walked over to them.

  “Did we find out anything about who attacked them?” he asked.

  Reges turned towards him, a broken sword in his hand. “We found Hagan. His sword was shattered,” he said, lifting the blade in his hand. “He died from a gash that started at his left shoulder and ended on his right flank. The bandit who did this must have used a large sword.”

  June’s eyes widened. Not many people could swing a weapon that large.

  “Can I see Hagan’s sword?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Taking the broken sword in his hands, June studied it. His blacksmithing background told him the sword had been in good condition when it broke. “How many people can do something this?” he asked. “There’s no fault in Hagan’s sword.”

  “The only people I know with an Auctoritas strong enough to break a sword like this are Lord Leora and Lord Hector,” Zenrom answered, his voice grim. “If we have to face someone as strong as them, we’ll be in trouble. And if we add the rest of the bandits… this mission is starting to look more and more like a suicide mission.”

  “Zenrom! Cam found wagon tracks!” San came running over, excitement shaking his voice. “We got them! Let’s go after them—now!”

  Looking up at the setting sun and the mercenaries around them, Zenrom exhaled heavily and shook his head. “It's getting dark. We bury our men today. At first light tomorrow, we follow the tracks. We need to be rested if we’re going to fight them. I want a rotating shift every two hours.”

  San opened his mouth, ready to argue, but closed it again with a grunt. “You got it, boss. We should bury Hagan and send him to the Last Shore properly.”

  Staring up at the makeshift tent they had thrown together, June lay awake in the dark, trying to force himself to sleep. He knew how important his strength would be tomorrow, but no matter what he did, sleep refused to come.

  “Can’t sleep?” Cam asked from the darkness.

  “Yeah. I keep seeing Hagan’s face.”

  “That's natural.”

  “Hey, Cam? You got any tips on going to sleep?”

  “No.”

  Signing in disappointment, June shut his eyes again, but his mind was running wild.

  After almost an hour, he gave up and crawled out of the tent. Spotting Shina perched in a tree, he walked over.

  “Hey. I can't sleep, so I’ll join you,” he whispered, looking up at her.

  “Thanks. I could use a little company,” she replied, patting the branch beside her.

  Climbing to sit next to her, June settled against the trunk and scanned the dark forest, his eyes carefully moving from place to place.

  “Hey, Shina?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Zenrom seemed worried about the strength of the bandit leader. Do you think we’ll be all right?”

  “We have over forty Arcane Warriors. And don’t forget—Zenrom and Reges are Arcane Lords. As long as nothing goes wrong, we should be fine.” She absentmindedly touched the handle of her sword. “But they should know we’re coming. They let that one guard live for a reason. We’ll be fine… but it’ll be harder than we expect. When the fighting starts, stay close to me. We’ll support Zenrom.”

  “Right.”

  As the minutes slowly ticked by, June finally started to feel tired. A large yawn escaped before he could stop it. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back against the tree.

  “First watch is almost over. You should sleep,” Shina said, glancing over at him. “I’ll make sure that you’re assigned the last watch.”

  “Thanks, Shina,” June muttered.

  He clumsily climbed down, stumbling as his tired legs struggled to cooperate. “If anything happens, wake me.”

  “I will.”

  Walking back to the tent, June fumbled with the tent flap before finally crawling inside. Cam’s snores barely registered in his foggy brain. He pulled his blanket over himself and was asleep before he even realized it, a restless, dreamless sleep.

  A gentle shake on his shoulders brought June back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to the dark interior of the tent.

  “It’s time for your watch,” Winks grunted, his broad silhouette outlined against the tent walls.

  “I’m up… I’m up,” June heard himself say, his words more for himself than Winks. Dragging himself up, he glanced over at Cam, who was now silently sleeping, the once loud snoring nowhere to be heard.

  Why is he so quiet now? he wondered.

  Stepping out of the tent, he spent a couple of seconds stretching before heading toward the edge of camp.

  Spotting San on watch, he hurried over, calling out. “San! I’m here to replace you. Go get some sleep before breakfast.”

  Hearing June’s voice, San turned his head, glancing back at him. Nodding in understanding, he spat out something he was chewing on. “I had some Lighting Leaves, so I’m awake. I’ll grab some food and get my things ready. Want me to bring you some food?”

  “No thanks. I’ll eat after my watch,” June replied.

  Nodding, San walked away.

  Choosing the same tree he had sat in last night, June skillfully climbed into it and settled down. Drawing a minimal amount of Aether, he rotated it to his eyes and scanned the darkness.

  Two quiet hours passed, uneventful, before the first rays of the sun spread across the trees, changing the darkness into shades of cool blues and bright white. Watching the sun slowly rise above the hills and trees, June cracked his neck before making his way back to camp. The final watch was over.

  “Everyone, eat something fast! We leave in thirty minutes!” Zenrom’s voice set the tone for the day. The mercenaries rose silently, grabbed whatever food they had, and started preparing to head out.

  Winks handed June a strip of dried meat, which June accepted before making his way to the tent he had shared with Cam.

  The tent was already taken down.

  “I put your stuff over there,” Cam said, pointing to June’s neatly rolled bedding.

  “Thanks,” June replied. He bent down to grab his bedroll and slung it over his shoulder, and straightened up.

  “Did you get breakfast yet?” he asked, following Cam as they made their way to where everyone was gathering.

  “Yeah, I had some before I packed up,” Cam replied, adjusting the pack on his back. “Oh yeah, Boss wants you to meet up with him. He called for all the best trackers.”

  “Oh, I should get going then,” June said, picking up his pace.

  He hurried toward where he knew Zenrom would be, weaving past mercenaries breaking camp. A nervous energy seemed to hang over them, their jokes only bringing tight smiles and nods. Soon, he reached a group gathered around Reges and San, both of whom were crouched over a set of wagon tracks.

  “This is a trap,” Reges said, his steady voice cutting through the air. He lifted his head as June approached.

  “You think so?” San asked, reaching down and touching the tracks. “June, what do you think?”

  June crouched beside them, studying the tracks. A frown appeared on his face. The tracks were in perfect condition, a clear path through the trees and into the distance. There were no signs of anyone attempting to cover the trail.

  “They’re too perfect,” he concluded, agreeing with Reges.

  “Yup. Even bandits would’ve tried to hide the tracks. Zenrom—what do we do?” Reges asked, straightening up and staring down the false trail.

  Turning to see Zenrom ride up behind him, June stepped out of the way, showing him the tracks.

  “This is a fake trail,” Zenrom said immediately. “I want the Diamond Guard to split into two groups. San, Shina, June in one. Cam and Winks in the other. Spread out and find the real tracks. Shoot a whistling arrow the moment you do. We’ll take your horses so you can move more quickly through the underbrush. June, give me your pack—I’ll put it on your horse. Reges, and I will lead the mercenaries down the fake tracks. We need one of the groups to find the real tracks before we’re ambushed.”

  “Sir!”

  Brushing the dirt off his knees, June stood up and passed his pack to Zenrom and waited for Shina to join them. Standing next to him, San put a piece of jerky in his mouth and started to chew slowly.

  Less than a minute later, Shina came jogging over, a grin on her face.

  “Sorry, sorry! I was finishing my breakfast,” she said, ruffling June’s hair when she reached them.

  “It’s all right. Let’s go.” June replied, straightening his hair before heading into the forest. “Let’s start looking from the road.”

  Knowing how urgent it was to find the real trail, June focused Aether into his eyes, enhancing every detail of the ground. He slowed his pace, systematically scanning the forest floor, his eyes moving back and forth. He paused at what looked like a track, only to sigh when it turned out to be nothing.

  “Anything?” he called, moving his way further into the forest.

  “No.”

  “Nothing here.”

  Frustration gnawed at him. He mumbled under his breath, careful not to speak loudly. “There has to be something. Anything. They left the bodies of our caravan guards nearby…”

  “I agree, but I don't see anything,” San called back. “I just hope Winks and Cam have better luck than us. Shina—take your time. You're the worst tracker out of all of us,” he teased, bending down to look at something before shaking his head.

  “I know I’m the worst, but I can't even find tracks of wildlife,” Shina snapped, kicking a nearby stump. “Nothing.”

  “Not even wildlife?” June repeated, confused. His head swept left and right. Even if she was bad at tracking, that was only when compared to them. When compared to the average person, she was very good.

  His eyes narrowed. Something was wrong.

  “Now that you mention it… Some places do seem a little too clean. Almost as if…” His voice trailed off. He stopped in his tracks, his mind racing. “They erased every track!”

  He grabbed a whistling arrow from his quiver and shot it into the sky.

  “Shina! San! The bandits erased all their tracks—but they also wiped out all signs of wildlife. The clean areas mark the route!”

  San’s eyes widened as he examined the patch of ground Shina had been standing on. A grin spread across his face. “Found it! Now that I know what to for, it's easy. Let's Go! Shina, you're a genius!”

  “I know! And don't forget!” Shina retorted, smiling brightly.

  Allowing San to sprint ahead, she turned to June, her smile turning into a frown. “But why am I a genius this time?”

  “The bandits erased every track, even the ones made by animals and nature,” June explained as they ran. “Imagine multiple people leaving footsteps on the beach. It's hard to tell which direction one person went if other people stepped on their footprints. But if the person you’re tracking swept away not just their footprints but all footprints near theirs, it's very easy to follow. The empty space becomes the trail.”

  Understanding dawned on her. She nodded sharply.

  As the trio followed the erased path, June fired whistling arrows every ten minutes, allowing Zenrom to know of their location.

  “That's the last arrow! But they should have found our trail,” he said, keeping pace, heart beating strongly.

  “We should slow down. The bandits aren’t clearing their tracks anymore,” San noted, pointing at the first natural track they had seen in almost three hours.

  They moved silently, keeping to the shadows and trees.

  “Over there!” June hissed, pointing in the direction of a large hill. “I just saw something.”

  They crept up the slope before lying on their stomachs—crawling the last few feet to the top. From the hill’s crest, June peered into the valley below and saw a small, crude village. The stolen wagons from the caravan sat in the center.

  “How many do you count?” he whispered.

  “Around fifty. Maybe a bit more,” Shina answered.

  “Agreed,” San murmured, squinting at the largest house. “Let's head back and meet up with Zenrom.”

  They crawled back until they were hidden behind the hill again, then sprinted back in the direction they had come. Less than an hour later, they stood with Zenrom and Reges while San sketched a rough map in the dirt.

  “The bandits are hidden in a small village here,” San explained, pointing with his stick.

  Kneeling next to him, Zenrom and Reges studied the drawing.

  “How do we attack?” Reges asked.

  “From what San drew, the rocky hills around the village look difficult,” Zenrom said, rubbing his chin. “I don’t think we can flank them.”

  “Full frontal assault?” Reges suggested. “Use shock and speed to overwhelm them. Don't give them time to arm themselves.”

  “Is that really the best idea?” San asked.

  Standing, Zenrom brushed the dirt from his knees. “If we assume the decoy trail is a trap, then there are more bandits not in the village. We have to take the village before the rest of the bandits realize that we found their village.”

  “That makes sense,” San admitted, standing up and kicking dirt over the map he had just drawn. “When do we attack?”