The road to Sadnon was long and windy. Their pace was slow in a steady trot rather than a rush, as the night air cooled. Darius rode in silence for a while, his eyes lost in thought. Then, under his breath, he muttered, "Guide? …Can you hear me?"
No reply came. Only the clop of hooves on the dirt road answered him. He tried again, a little louder this time, but the silence remained.
Favian glanced at him briefly. "Trying to reach your Guide, aren't you?"
Darius nodded, his brow furrowed. "Yes. It feels like shouting into the void. I've called several times since we left, but there's nothing. No voice. No sign."
Favian gave a small smile. "Don't let it trouble you. Mine often goes silent for days, sometimes longer. They're strange beings, the Guides. I don't think they truly live within us, as many claim."
Darius turned to him, curious. "What do you mean?"
"I think they dwell elsewhere," Favian said thoughtfully, gazing up at the sky. "In some higher realm, perhaps where the light and darkness meet. They speak when it suits them, and when they vanish, it's because their attention is elsewhere. Busy with other souls, other matters."
Darius let out a soft chuckle. "So they're not ignoring us, just occupied."
"Occupied, or indifferent," Favian replied dryly. "Either way, it's something we must get used to."
Darius smiled faintly, shaking his head. "Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting."
As they neared the outskirts of Sadnon, Darius reined in his horse and took a long look at the city ahead. From the distance, its slanted rooftops and spired towers reminded him so much of Orlan that for a heartbeat, he thought they had somehow circled back.
"This place…" he murmured. "It looks just like Orlan."
Favian gave a faint nod. "Aye. Sadnon and Orlan were once one great kingdom, before the rise of the Anasonian Empire. Emperor Creel, the first of his line, divided them more than three centuries ago, splitting the land and the people both."
"Three hundred years," Darius repeated, as though tasting history on his tongue.
They rode on in silence for a while, until a stench began to drift through the cool evening air. A sickly, foul odour that made Darius wrinkle his nose. As they drew closer, he saw what caused it: rotting corpses, scattered along the path like broken dolls. The remains of men and women, left to decay where they had fallen.
Darius stiffened. "What in the gods' names happened here?"
Favian's eyes darkened as he surveyed the carnage. "Ragelers," he said grimly. "Beasts twice the size of a man, with claws that can tear through armour. Not as mighty as a Spryon, but vicious all the same."
"Ragelers?" Darius echoed, frowning. "You mean… creatures from the Underworld?"
Favian nodded. "Spawned from it, yes. They roam at night, drawn to fear and blood. Sadnon's soldiers barely hold them back. Orlan, at least, was safer; Truthers were plenty there, and their presence wards off such filth."
He paused, his gaze shifting toward the city gates ahead. "But that may no longer be so, with the purges spreading."
Darius said nothing. He could feel the unease crawling beneath his skin as they trotted past another lifeless body, the buzz of flies thick in the air.
Favian squinted toward the horizon, his expression suddenly brightening.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I can see one."
Darius glanced at him, realising he must be speaking to his Guide again. Favian's eyes had that distant gleam he often wore when in silent communion.
Without another word, Favian pointed ahead. "There," he said. "That couple with the cart."
Darius followed his gaze. Not far off, a man and woman were struggling to heave several heavy sacks of grain onto a small wooden cart. Their donkey brayed impatiently, stamping its hooves in the dust.
Favian turned to Darius. "Let's help them."
They nudged their horses forward and soon reached the couple. Dismounting, they offered their aid without hesitation. The man, clearly wearied by the work, gave them a grateful nod, and together they managed to lift the last few sacks onto the cart.
When they were done, the man wiped his brow and smiled.
"Thank you, travellers. I'm Nathan," he said, resting a hand on the cart, "and this is my wife, Catherine."
Favian returned the smile. "Glad to be of help. I'm Favian," he said, then gestured to his companion. "And this is Kriger."
Nathan studied their faces for a moment, brow furrowing. "Strange faces," he remarked. "You're not from around here, are you? Travelling past Sadnon, perhaps?"
Favian nodded easily. "We are," he said. "Though we may need a place to stay for a short while before we move on. We'll head back to Orlan after that."
Nathan exchanged a quick look with Catherine, who gave a kind smile.
"Well, if you don't mind simple meals and a roof that creaks when the wind blows, you're welcome to stay with us," Nathan said. "Come along, we're not far from the town's edge."
They thanked him, mounted their horses again, and followed slowly behind the couple's cart as it rattled along the dusty road.
As the cart rumbled along the uneven road, Nathan glanced back at them. "So— Kriger, Favian, what brings you two travelling so far out?"
Favian answered warmly without hesitation. "We're brothers. We've been moving from place to place, hoping to find somewhere we might settle permanently."
"Oh," Catherine said, brightening. "Then you'll like Sadnon. It's calmer now. Fewer attacks from the Ragelers."
Darius let out a breath. "We passed a few corpses on the outskirts… rotting ones. How've you managed to keep the Ragelers at bay?"
Nathan straightened a little with pride. "The Valiants. They've been extremely helpful. Those beasts haven't set foot near the main gates since the Valiants chased out all the Truthers."
Favian's eyes turned to Darius. Both frowned.
Nathan continued, his tone almost matter-of-fact. "Truth is, I think it was the Truthers who brought the trouble. Their presence attracted the Ragelers."
Favian's jaw tightened. "Ragelers were attacking long before any Truthers arrived in Anason."
"That's true," Nathan agreed, nodding. "But I'm glad they're gone all the same. The killings have stopped. That's what matters to us."
Favian and Darius exchanged a long look, realising, without words, that the Valiants had won more than battles here. They had shaped the story itself. And the people of Sadnon might soon forget their Viceroy's crimes.
The cart creaked to a stop before a modest stone house with a slanted, moss-dusted roof. As Nathan hopped down, the front door swung open, and a young woman stepped out. Her hair, rich and copper-red, caught the moonlight. She looked about Darius's age.
Darius froze for a heartbeat. Something in her face, her gentle eyes, the curve of her smile… summoned a ghost of Amelia, his cousin and betrothed. The memory hit him so suddenly it stole his breath.
Nathan gestured them forward. "Meredith! These are Favian and Kriger. They helped us with the loading earlier, and they'll be staying with us for now."
Meredith's smile brightened, and she dipped her head politely. "Thank you both. Truly."
Darius managed to return the smile, too eagerly perhaps. "It was no trouble at all. Your parents were kind enough to offer us a place to stay."
From beside him, Favian swept a glance his way with a brief, disapproving, a faint frown tugging at his brow.
Nathan clapped his hands together. "Meredith's our only child. She'll get you both settled."
"It's good to meet you," Meredith said, meeting Darius's eyes for a moment longer than necessary. "Come in, let me put something together for all of us to eat."
Favian nodded with polite distance. Darius, however, felt the warmth in his face as he followed her inside.
The meal was a simple one, yet comforting in its familiarity. Catherine had set the table with thick wooden trenchers, each holding a generous scoop of barley porridge mixed with shredded smoked fish. Beside it lay coarse brown bread, still warm from the hearth, and a bowl of stewed vegetables, carrots, turnips, and crooked onions simmered so long they had melted into a savoury mash. A clay jug of watered ale stood in the centre, beads of condensation trickling down its sides.
Darius ate with the eagerness of someone who had forgotten what a peaceful supper felt like. Favian, on the other hand, kept his posture straight, eyes jerking occasionally to the windows and the door, as though expecting danger to seep through any gap.
Meredith sat across from them, elbows lightly resting on the table. Her hair had been tied loosely behind her head, though strands had escaped and glowed copper in the firelight.
"So," she began, tearing off a piece of bread, "where are you travelling to?"
Darius swallowed quickly and spoke before Favian could. "Nowhere in particular. Though…" he cleared his throat, glancing at Favian for approval that never came, "Anason is in our thoughts."
Favian's mouth tightened, the same frown of disapproval he'd worn since the introductions. He didn't correct Darius, but his silence was heavy.
Meredith nodded slowly, as though contemplating the answer. "And what would you do once you get there?"
Darius hesitated. His eyes darted to Favian again. He was painfully aware that their story had not been agreed upon. "Well—ah—" He stuttered, fingers tightening around his cup, "We might… join the empire's army. Eventually."
Favian turned to him with raised brows and a crooked, mocking smile. It was subtle, but Darius caught it and nearly winced.
"The empire's army," Meredith repeated, not surprised, merely thoughtful. She reached for the ale jug and poured herself a little. Then, casually, almost absentmindedly, she said, "I thought you two were Truthers."
The spoon slipped from Darius's hand, clattering against the wooden bowl. Favian went utterly still. Their eyes met. Edged and alarmed.
But Favian recovered first.
He laughed lightly, warm enough to sound natural but controlled enough to hide the tension in his shoulders. "Truthers? Us? No, no. Why would you think that?"
Meredith shrugged, sipping her drink. "No reason. You both just seem… odd. We've had Truthers passing through Sadnon recently, claiming to be traders, though none of them actually sell anything."
Darius swallowed.
That one observation alone revealed more danger than she realised.
Favian's expression softened subtly. If Darius hadn't known him, he might have missed the gaze of relief in his eyes; Darius' earlier lie, clumsy as it had been, might have opened them an escape.
"We're not traders," Favian said smoothly, leaning into the lie now. "Our aim is indeed to join the army. We've travelled from Ardet." He added a soft chuckle. "Long road from home, but every dream has its path."
Meredith widened her eyes slightly, the information seeming to settle comfortably into place. "Oh. I see."
She nodded, accepting the explanation with an unconcerned simplicity that made Darius' chest unclench… just a little.