The dust had barely settled over Eirsuol when the riders appeared on the road.
Golden Cloaks. Two cottages mounted on the back of separate carts, moving with the particular efficiency of people who had done this before and intended to do it quickly.
"Here," one of them said, dropping the first cottage in the middle of what used to be the capital's main square. The wood hit the cracked stone with a heavy thud.
"Hey — we've stopped!" A voice from inside. Then the door swung open.
Five figures stepped out one by one into the ruined city.
People who had been hiding — in cellars, behind collapsed walls, inside houses with the shutters drawn — slowly began to emerge. Cautious. Reading the newcomers the way people read anything unfamiliar after surviving something terrible.
"What a mess," said the one with the scar across his face, surveying the destruction with his hands on his hips.
"People died here, Thorne," the one beside him said quietly. "Show some respect."
"Shut up, Darius."
A little girl stepped forward from the gathering crowd, holding the hand of the adult beside her — or trying to. The fifth member of the group, who hadn't spoken yet, had already crouched down to her level and was showing her something with his hands. A small trick. Her eyes went wide.
"Thank you, mister," she said.
The female member of the group smiled at the crowd. "You look like you've seen ghosts. Relax." She tilted her head. "You do know who we are, don't you?"
A man at the front of the crowd shook his head slowly.
She let out a short laugh. "Elite Knights. All five of us."
*Elite Knights.* The whisper moved through the crowd like a current. The Elite arrived only when the Allthing deemed a situation a genuine threat — not a border skirmish, not a local conflict. Something that required people who carried abilities no ordinary knight could obtain or explain.
"No need for fear," Torin Grimwald announced, loud enough for the whole square to hear, one hand pressed to his chest. "Torin Grimwald is here. You're welcome."
"What?" Dorian said from beside him, hand on his own chest, looking genuinely wounded.
Thorne had already moved on. He grabbed the nearest man by the collar — not roughly, but with the firm certainty of someone who intends to get an answer.
"Is he here?"
"Thorne." Darius's voice was a warning. "They've been through enough."
The man in Thorne's grip met his eyes. "We won't tell you. We owe him that much."
Thorne laughed. Short. Genuine.
"Hollow Bane," he said. "Do your trick."
The quiet one — the one who had been showing the little girl something with his hands — stood up slowly. He lifted his mask just enough and crossed to the man. Placed one hand on his shoulder.
"What are you—" The man stopped mid-sentence. His eyes lit faintly from within.
"Speak," Hollow Bane said.
The words came out without resistance. "He's gone. After he put the barrier up — protected what was left of the city — he left without a word. With his companion. A girl. And someone else who looked dead. A knight."
Hollow Bane removed his hand. The light left the man's eyes.
"Works every time," the female knight murmured.
Thorne was already crouching, looking at the crater at the far end of the square. At the scorch marks. At the shape of what the fight had left behind. He was quiet for a long moment.
Then he stood and clapped the man on the shoulder.
"My good friend. I owe you a drink."
He turned to the others. "Let's eat. Someone find a kitchen that's still standing."
The crowd exchanged glances.
Torin was already walking toward the nearest intact building. "You heard him. Move."
Outside Eirsuol — The Tree Line
Hana leaned against the trunk of a tree with both arms wrapped around it, watching.
Julius stood over Gnorm's body. Still. The staff in one hand, the other hanging loose at his side. He hadn't moved in a long time.
Then he straightened.
"We ride at dawn," he said. "After we bury him."
Hana pushed off the tree. "You need to rest. After everything that happened — you're not a machine, Julius. You're still human."
He was quiet for a moment.
She stepped closer.
"I'm not human," he said. "Not anymore." A pause. "That died with him."
The words landed differently than anything else he had said. Hana looked at him — really looked — and didn't argue.
"We bury him," Julius said. "Then we ride to Valdrick."
"What's in Valdrick?"
His fist closed slowly around the staff.
"I can feel him there. The vessel."
Valdrick — The City of Vanity
Somewhere Near the Capital Forgemark
"One, please."
Cottage handed over the coin and took the drink from the stall without breaking stride, draining half of it in one pull.
"This place is enormous," he said.
"You've never been?" Garon asked, fingers trailing along the goods on the nearest stall as he walked.
"Never."
Garon glanced ahead at Dot moving in silence through the crowd. "He hasn't been himself, has he."
Cottage considered this. "He's always been the grumpy type," he said, finishing the drink.
Something tapped the back of his head.
Astrid rode past on her horse, not looking at him. "Less talking. More moving."
"Easy for you to say — you're on a horse," Garon muttered.
"Don't speak to my lady like that," Cottage said immediately.
Astrid ignored both of them and pulled up alongside Dot.
From somewhere ahead a man with a cart called out as he passed: "The Rings Tournament — three days! Tickets available, four percent off today only!"
A small cluster of people broke from the crowd and followed the cart.
"Crowded," Astrid said to Dot.
"Yeah," Dot answered.
A pause.
"We should rest," she said. "We're close enough."
"Yeah."
---
*That Night — A Tavern Near the Capital*
"I won!" Cottage slammed his cup down and immediately knocked it off the table. It hit the floor. A man beside him raised his own cup in celebration and sloshed half of it over Cottage's head.
Neither of them noticed.
Garon stepped outside.
Dot was already there — standing in the cold air, back against the wall, looking at nothing in particular.
"You really like her, don't you," Garon said.
"She's my friend. Yes."
Garon was quiet for a moment. "I've known my sister a long time. She doesn't get close to people. Not after everything." He paused. "From what I've heard you two were different."
"We were," Dot said. Something crossed his face — faint, involuntary. The memory of the first time they met. Her hitting him square in the groin the moment she could move. He almost smiled.
Garon tapped his shoulder. "Thank you. For looking out for her." He pushed a plate into Dot's hands. "Eat something before you disappear on us."
"She'll be glad you came for her," Dot said.
Garon opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded once.
Then from inside — "I signed us up for a drinking competition!"
They both turned.
Cottage stood in the doorway beaming. "Our horses are on the line. But look—"
He pointed.
Astrid was already at the bar, both hands around a full mug, drinking steadily without expression.
"You absolute fool," Garon said.
Dot watched her for a moment.
Then he laughed. A real one. The kind that had been missing for a long time.
---
*Somewhere in the City — Later*
Two figures watched from the shadow of a rooftop across the street.
"We should move now," one said. "While they're distracted."
"No." The Hound's voice was flat. "Wait."
"Whisper" leaned against the ledge, eyes on the tavern below. "I want to take his friends first. One by one. Slowly. Let him watch."
The Hound was quiet for a moment. "That's genuinely evil."
A pause.
"But it does sound like fun."
Beside them, the father of the father-daughter bounty hunting pair took a long pull from his flask and said nothing for a while.
"Daughter," he said finally. "I fear we have attached ourselves to maniacs."
She didn't disagree.
To Be Continued…