The village gates loomed closer, their tall wooden posts bound together with iron nails. They weren't much, not compared to the stone fortresses of fantasy novels Loid used to read, but after wandering through endless forest, it looked like salvation. A pair of guards stood at the entrance, each armed with a spear and clad in patched leather armor. They straightened as Loid and Selvara approached.
"Hold there, strangers!" one barked, lowering his spear slightly. His voice carried authority but not hostility.
Loid raised his hands instinctively, the heavy tusk still tucked under his arm. His voice wavered at first, then steadied. "Good day, sirs. We come in peace. We… ah… are adventurers. Or mercenaries, if that term suits you better. We're looking for honest work."
The guard who spoke first squinted at him, then at Selvara. His eyes lingered. A flicker of surprise, then awe softened his expression. "Adventurers, huh? Well, that's fortunate. The chief's been asking for capable folk." His voice dropped slightly, betraying that his attention wasn't on Loid anymore. "Your companion there… she looks like she can handle herself."
Selvara stood silent, her silver eyes unblinking. The faint breeze shifted her long dark hair, catching the fading sunlight like silk. She didn't react to the scrutiny, didn't even blink. Her hand rested casually on her sword hilt, but not in threat—merely in presence.
Loid cleared his throat. "Yes, she is my… trusted partner. Highly capable in combat." He tried to keep his tone steady, professional. Inside, he was bursting with relief. Thank God there's no language barrier. If they'd been speaking some unknown tongue, he would have been dead in the water.
The guard raised an eyebrow. "And you, boy? You don't look like a fighter." His eyes flicked to Loid's plain shirt, worn pants, and complete lack of armor or weapon.
Loid forced a polite smile. "I am... the... one who manages, coordinates, and negotiates. My skills... lie in leadership, planning, and strategy, rather than brute strength."
The guard hummed skeptically, but his gaze returned to Selvara, and his suspicion melted into something else something close to admiration. "Well… the chief's been searching for fighters. You'll want the big building in the center of the village. Can't miss it. That's where he keeps his office."
Loid inclined his head in gratitude. "Thank you kindly. We'll head there at once."
The guard stepped aside, gesturing toward the dirt road that led deeper into the village. As Loid and Selvara passed, Loid caught the faintest snickers behind him.
One of the guards muttered, "You didn't even question them. Was it her beauty, eh?"
The first guard let out a low laugh. "Can you blame me? By the gods, look at her. I've never seen skin so smooth, hair so dark. Even among nobles, none shine like that. And that body…" He lowered his voice, though Loid still caught fragments. "If she's not a goddess in disguise, I'll eat my boots."
The other guard chuckled. "Maybe we should ask her out. Or both of us."
"Ha! Don't be foolish. Women like her don't look at men like us."
Their voices faded as Loid and Selvara walked on. Loid felt heat crawl up his neck. He glanced sideways at Selvara. Her face betrayed nothing, no irritation, no pride, just that same calm, unreadable mask.
He exhaled slowly. Good. The last thing I need is her gutting a guard on our first day.
---
The village of Thornfield was humble but alive. Children chased each other between cottages, women carried baskets of laundry, and men hauled tools from fields. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, carrying the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread. Loid's stomach clenched painfully at the smell.
The big building in the center of town rose above the rest. It was sturdier, built from thick logs and reinforced beams, with a tiled roof instead of thatch. Its size and craftsmanship marked it as important, a half town hall, half chief's manor.
Loid and Selvara entered quietly. Inside, it was strangely empty. A few villagers milled about near a bulletin board, but most kept their heads down. The air smelled faintly of ink and wood polish. At the far end, a counter stretched across the hall, manned by a tired-looking woman in her thirties.
Loid approached with his best respectful smile. "Good evening, ma'am. We were told the chief is in need of capable fighters. Might we inquire about such work?"
The woman blinked, her gaze flicking to Selvara. Her eyes widened slightly, then she composed herself. "The chief is upstairs. Second floor, door at the end of the hall. Knock before entering."
"Thank you kindly." Loid gave a small bow, then turned to Selvara. Together, they climbed the creaking stairs.
At the top, Loid knocked firmly on the designated door.
"Enter," a deep voice called.
Loid opened the door. The office beyond was simple but neat. A desk piled with parchment dominated the center, and behind it sat a broad-shouldered man in his fifties, hair graying at the temples, eyes sharp but weary. He looked up and froze.
His chair scraped loudly as he stood, his eyes locked on Selvara. His mouth opened slightly. "Lady… forgive me, I did not expect…" His voice faltered. "Are you… a noble?"
Selvara's expression did not change. She offered no words.
Loid stepped in quickly, bowing his head. "Sir Chief, allow me to clarify. Selvara is no noble, though I understand the mistake. She is my partner and a highly capable combatant. We seek employment as mercenaries, to serve this village if you will have us."
The chief blinked, then exhaled slowly. He sank back into his chair, rubbing his forehead. "I see… Forgive me. Her bearing… her presence… it is unlike anything I've seen." He studied her again, as though confirming she was real. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. You came at a good time. We are in need of strength."
Loid clasped his hands respectfully. "If you would allow, sir, please tell us what troubles your village."
The chief leaned back, eyes narrowing. "Bandits. Wolves. A growing unease in the forest. My guards are stretched thin, and my people live in fear. We need fighters who can stand against threats where ordinary men falter."
He tapped his desk. "You will meet with my captain of the guard at the west barracks. If your companion passes his trial, she will serve as a guard of Thornfield. Ten silver a day."
Loid's eyes widened. Ten silver? He had no idea what the exchange rate was, but it sounded significant. He bowed slightly. "A generous offer, sir. But if I may, allow me to clarify that Selvara and I are mercenaries. We are not soldiers bound by oath. We will work for your village, yes, but we remain independent."
The chief's face hardened. He sighed heavily. "In that case… eight silver a day. A mercenary cannot be relied upon as a soldier can. Orders may be ignored, loyalty uncertain."
Loid's heart sank. He leaned forward, his tone earnest but never disrespectful. "Sir Chief, I understand your concern. Yet I assure you that Selvara is unlike any warrior you have seen. Her loyalty to me is absolute, and my loyalty is to those who honor their agreements. If she proves herself in combat, would you consider restoring the ten silver? It would reflect her true worth."
The chief's eyes narrowed, studying Loid's face. Then he nodded slowly. "Very well. If she impresses my captain, if she is as capable as you claim I will honor the ten silver. But words are wind. Proof is what matters."
Loid bowed deeply. "We accept, sir. Thank you for your fairness."
The chief gestured toward the door. "Go. The west barracks. Captain Roderick will test her. If she passes, you will have your contract."
Loid straightened, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We shall not disappoint you."
He turned to Selvara, who had stood silent and unreadable the entire time.
She inclined her head faintly, her silver eyes glinting. Together, they left the office.
Behind them, the chief muttered under his breath. "Not a noble, he says… Then what is she?"
---
The west barracks sat at the edge of the village, near the palisade. The building was squat and sturdy, the smell of sweat and steel heavy in the air. Soldiers trained in the yard, sparring with wooden swords. They stopped as Loid and Selvara approached, eyes widening at the sight of her. Whispers spread quickly, admiration and disbelief mixing in their voices.
At the center of the yard stood a mountain of a man. Broad shoulders, arms like tree trunks, scars crisscrossing his tanned skin. His chest plate was dented from years of use, and a massive sword rested on his back. His beard was thick, his eyes sharp and hard.
This was Captain Roderick.
He turned as they approached, his gaze falling immediately on Selvara. His brow furrowed, and for a moment his stern façade cracked into something like curiosity.
Loid stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Captain Roderick, sir. I am Loid. This is Selvara, my partner. The chief has directed us to you. She is to be tested, to prove her worth as a mercenary for Thornfield."
Roderick grunted. His eyes never left Selvara. "She's your fighter?"
"Yes, sir."
"You're not?" His gaze flicked to Loid's plain clothes.
Loid shook his head respectfully. "I am her... leader, sir. I... coordinate, negotiate, and plan. Selvara is the blade that carries our will."
Roderick studied him for a long moment, then barked a laugh. "Hah! At least you're honest about it." His eyes returned to Selvara, hardening again. "Alright then, girl. Let's see what you can do."
Selvara's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. She stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on her sword.