“Where else? I’m right here!”
Sharino, his face deeply tanned by the sun, emerged from the dense bushes, pushing aside thick foliage that rustled with a dry whisper.
The quiver he’d slung over his shoulder that morning, usually packed to the brim with sharpened arrows, was now conspicuously empty, its leather sides drooping.
A silent, unspoken question hung in the fading afternoon air: where had all those arrows vanished?
He wasn’t carrying any prey, no freshly caught game slung over his shoulder, nor any small birds clutched in his hand, which further deepened the mystery of his empty quiver.
It was painfully clear he hadn’t been successful in hunting; his efforts, whatever they were, had yielded nothing edible.
Following closely behind Sharino, Lentz appeared, his movements fluid and almost regal, like a predator stalking its prey.
He trailed a mere step behind Sharino, a subtle yet deliberate act that made him resemble a loyal knight escorting a noble, a silent guardian in the wilderness, perpetually watchful.
Lentz, too, was empty-handed, his usual hunting gear – a short bow, a net, and a hunting knife – conspicuously absent.
His hair, dark as midnight and usually neatly tied back with a leather thong, was now disheveled, wild strands falling across his forehead, where beads of sweat glistened, catching the fading afternoon light like tiny jewels.
Leni, observing him from her spot by the unlit fire pit, noticed the long sword Lentz wore at his hip, its hilt worn smooth from countless draws.
A sudden, unsettling thought flashed through her mind, cold as a winter wind: she wondered if there was blood on the polished blade, a silent testament to some unseen encounter that had perhaps been more serious than a mere hunting trip.
As if on cue, a synchronized return of the squad members began.
One by one, they emerged from the surrounding woods, their forms appearing through the dappled sunlight that pierced the dense canopy.
William, ever the pragmatist with a perpetually rumbling stomach, immediately began rummaging through some dried herring, his hunger clearly overriding any other concerns, even the mystery of the empty quivers.
He complained loudly about his hunger, his grumbling echoing through the clearing like a distant thunder.
Sharino, in turn, looked pointedly at Gustav, a silent accusation in his gaze, his eyes narrowed with a mix of fatigue and irritation.
“You’ve been here all day, and you haven’t even prepared dinner?”
Sharino’s voice carried a mix of exasperation and genuine hunger, a sharp edge to his words.
“There’s a stream nearby; you should have caught some fish. Looks like we’re eating tough dried fish again.”
His words were a clear indictment of Gustav’s culinary negligence, a direct challenge to his perceived laziness.
Instead of being discouraged by the scolding, Gustav put on a bold, almost impudent, face, a smirk playing on his lips.
He met Sharino’s gaze with a challenging glint in his eyes.
“I’ve been busy too. Do you know how exhausting it is to read the energies of the earth and plants? To commune with the ancient spirits that whisper through the leaves? And then to ask me to prepare a meal, a mere mundane task, that’s too much. It diminishes my true purpose.”
His protest was laced with theatricality, implying a deeper, more profound form of labor than mere meal preparation, a spiritual exertion far beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals.
The grumbling continued, a cascade of complaints and humorous accusations filling the air.
Someone bemoaned how Gustav wouldn’t make them tents tonight as a form of punishment, a playful jab at his perceived magical abilities to conjure shelters.
Another joked about how everyone would have been soaked like wet mice if it weren’t for him stopping at the tavern, hinting at a past misadventure that had spared them from a sudden downpour, a testament to his uncanny ability to foresee events or simply to find shelter when needed.
The banter was lighthearted, a familiar rhythm among the squad, but the underlying sentiment was clear: Gustav had shirked his duties, choosing his esoteric pursuits over practical necessities.
Leni, observing the scene, felt an inexplicable wave of uneasiness wash over her, a cold dread seeping into her bones.
It wasn’t just the playful scolding; it was a deeper sense of her own inadequacy, a sudden awareness of her perceived uselessness.
“I’m sorry,” she interjected, her voice soft but earnest, barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t know when you’d be back. It would have been good if I’d prepared dinner, but it didn’t even cross my mind.”
A pang of bitter regret hit her, sharp and sudden.
She had spent the entire day idly, watching clouds drift by like lazy sheep and playing with fallen leaves, tracing intricate patterns on the forest floor.
If she hadn’t thought to catch fish, she should have at least roasted some potatoes, anything to contribute, anything to avoid being a burden.
Gustav, sensing her distress, immediately jumped to her defense, though his words had an unintended and rather unfortunate effect.
“Why are you apologizing? You’re luggage. Luggage doesn’t work. It simply exists, to be carried and protected.”
His intention was to reassure her, to say she had no responsibility, that her role was simply to be present, but his bluntness only made Leni feel even more miserable, a knot forming in her stomach.
To be treated so openly as “luggage” was humiliating, a public declaration of her worthlessness.
He was pretending to take her side, yet simultaneously crushing her self-esteem with his careless words.
They had talked quite a bit, she thought, a spark of resentment igniting within her.
Hmm, your hobby must be chatting with luggage!
The thought was sharp, laced with a bitter irony, a silent retort to his condescending comfort.
“Hey, let’s stop fighting and get moving. We can all go catch fish together right now.”
William, ever the mediator, stepped in, his voice a calming presence, a sensible voice in the midst of the squabbling. Lentz, supporting William’s initiative, placed a reassuring hand on Sharino’s shoulder, a gesture of quiet camaraderie.
“You could have caught a fish by now, instead of nagging Gustav.”
Lentz’s comment was gentle, a subtle redirection, a soft rebuke.
Sharino’s expression softened noticeably as he looked at Lentz, his previous exasperation melting away like snow in the spring sun, replaced by a hint of contemplation.
“Shall we?” he asked, a hint of genuine inquiry in his voice, a silent invitation.
“Of course.”
Lentz smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a rare display of warmth.
He turned, picked up a thick branch from the ground, its bark rough beneath his fingers, and with practiced ease, pulled out the dagger at his hip.
With a few swift, precise motions, he sharpened the end of the branch, stripping away the bark to reveal the pale wood beneath.
Soon, a fine spear was complete, its tip honed to a precise point, capable of piercing flesh.
Sharino, clearly impressed by Lentz’s effortless skill, fell into step behind Lentz as he headed purposefully towards the stream with the newly fashioned spear, his earlier irritation forgotten.
I should go too.
I need to catch a lot of fish to prove I’m not luggage.
The thought spurred Leni into action, a fierce determination igniting within her.
She dashed in the direction the two had gone, her short strides surprisingly quick, determined to prove her worth, to shed the humiliating label.
Not far from the campsite, a wide, clear stream flowed, its water sparkling in the afternoon sun like scattered diamonds.
The red sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of trees, casting a shimmering, almost ethereal glow on the water’s surface, painting it in hues of orange and gold.
Lentz, who arrived at the stream first, immediately began to read the water’s flow, his eyes intently following the currents, anticipating the movement of unseen fish.
He was about to raise his spear, poised to strike at a promising ripple, when Gustav, catching up to Leni, cried out, “Whoa!” and waved his hands frantically, his long sleeves flapping in the air.
“Just a moment, Sir Crobe. The spirit of the sky has immersed itself in the spirit of the water. To disturb them now would be an act of profound disrespect, an insult to their sacred union.”
Gustav’s voice was imbued with a dramatic flair, his words a blend of reverence and playful mischief, a performance for an unwitting audience.
Lentz’s arm stopped in mid-air, his spear poised but unmoving, a testament to his ingrained respect for Gustav’s pronouncements.
Leni looked around, observing as Lentz lowered the hand holding the spear and straightened his back, a silent acknowledgment of Gustav’s words, a deferential bow to ancient customs.
Sharino stood beside Lentz, his earlier eagerness replaced by a quiet solemnity, his gaze fixed on the shimmering water.
Gabriel and William, who had also arrived at the stream with Gustav, stood nearby, their expressions mirroring the others’.
Everyone seemed to understand what Gustav had said, their expressions shifting from casual readiness to one of profound reverence.
They clasped their hands in front of them, their faces taking on solemn expressions, as if greeting royalty, or perhaps something even more ancient and powerful.
Leni, feeling utterly bewildered by this sudden shift in demeanor, by the unspoken understanding that seemed to bind them all, glanced at the squad members and whispered to Gustav.
“Why do we have to wait? Are we waiting for the fish to come to us?”
Gustav, without breaking his solemn pose, his eyes fixed on the sky, whispered back, his voice a low, resonant hum, “The spirit of the sky has immersed itself in the spirit of the water. It is a moment of profound cosmic union, a dance of elements.”
“What does that mean?”
Leni pressed, her confusion deepening, a frown creasing her brow.
“Is it some kind of weather phenomenon?”
Gustav looked down at Leni, a knowing chuckle escaping him, a sound like dry leaves rustling.
“Leni, it seems you don’t know the joy of love. The profound, intricate dance that connects all things.”
“The joy of love?”
Leni repeated the phrase, which sounded like poetry, a romantic verse plucked from an ancient song, utterly out of place in the rugged wilderness.
Gustav, with a flourish, pushed his long hair back from his face and spread his palm towards the sunset sky, embracing the moment with theatrical grandeur.
“Since the beginning of time, all life has enjoyed the joy of pairing, and those combinations are infinite and ever-changing. Even the unity of light and water we are witnessing now, this golden embrace, is a testament to this eternal dance. It is the very essence of creation, of life itself.”
His voice was soft, almost a drone, as if he were reciting an ancient incantation, a secret whispered through generations.
Leni found herself drawn into Gustav’s explanation, captivated by the mystical rhythm that sounded like a spell, a soothing lullaby.
As she listened, a sudden, jarring splash broke the tranquil atmosphere behind her, shattering the poetic moment.
“Gustav! Stop enchanting the kids with your nonsense and catch some fish!”
Blayden’s voice cut through the air, authoritative and impatient, a sharp contrast to Gustav’s reverent tone.
He stood in the stream, knee-deep in the shimmering water, his sword plunged into the water, its sharp point having found its mark.
A trout flapped wildly at the end of the sword he held aloft, its silver scales catching the light, a clear testament to his efficiency and lack of philosophical pretension.
“The time for joy is over. Now it’s time to eat.”
Blayden’s words were blunt, pragmatic, a stark contrast to Gustav’s poetic musings, a firm reminder of their earthly needs.
“What an unfortunate event. Oh noble sky. Oh sacred water. Forgive the impiety of humans who know no love, who prioritize crude sustenance over spiritual harmony.”
Gustav, undeterred, responded with mock lament, his eyes flickering between the sky and the stream with a look of theatrical awe, as if observing a profound tragedy.
Then, with a quick, mischievous wink at Blayden, a glint of amusement in his eyes, he added,
“It seems our captain also wants to plant something in a damp place, to sow some seeds of his own.”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
Blayden’s face remained stern, but a flicker of irritation, a hint of discomfort, crossed his features.
He knew Gustav’s double meanings all too well.
“It seems you have a lot pent up… a lot of unreleased energy, Captain.”
Gustav continued, his long finger tracing the length of Blayden’s sword, a suggestive gesture.
Leni, watching the interaction, felt a pang of worry that Gustav might accidentally injure himself with the sharp blade.
However, her concern was quickly replaced by shock, a gasp escaping her lips, at what Gustav said next, his gaze fixed intently on her, a knowing smirk on his face.
“Why are you being so sensitive? Do you think I’d covet the captain’s woman? My tastes are far more refined, my interests more ethereal.”
“No! I am not the wolf’s woman!”
Leni’s cry was sharp, a desperate scream that echoed through the clearing, a primal outburst of indignation.
The trout, which had been thrashing on Blayden’s sword, seemed to widen its eyes in surprise, its struggles momentarily ceasing.
As if disturbed by the sudden, piercing outburst, the surrounding birds all took flight at once, their wings beating loudly in a chaotic symphony that filled the sky, disappearing into the twilight.
Among the squad members, who were exchanging awkward glances and trying to suppress their amusement, Sharino couldn’t hold it in any longer.
He burst out laughing, a loud, unrestrained sound that boomed through the quiet woods.
“She called him a wolf,” he choked out between peals of laughter, clutching his sides.
Giggles erupted from the other men, quickly turning into outright chuckles and snorts of suppressed mirth.
“Not even ‘Lord Wolf,’ just ‘wolf.’ I’ve never seen anyone treat the Captain like this, with such blatant disrespect, such fearless defiance.”
Sharino pointed at Leni, then threw his head back, his laughter echoing loudly through the woods, enjoying Blayden’s discomfort.
“Oh, my goodness! It’s so funny, even the fish widened its eyes, as if understanding the humor of the situation. You’ve brought joy to a creature’s last moments before it becomes prey, Leni! A final, unexpected gift.”
Sharino, clutching his stomach, continued to cackle, exchanging mischievous glances with the other subordinates, who were now openly grinning.
Blayden, observing the scene, was dumbfounded, his face a mask of exasperation, his usual composure completely shattered. This little brat never had a quiet day, did she? Every moment with her was an unpredictable rollercoaster of chaos.
Leni, her face deeply wrinkled in a frustrated scowl, glared at him, a blazing inferno in her eyes. What did he do right?! she thought, her anger simmering, ready to boil over. He was the cause of all this humiliation.
Blayden, deciding he’d had enough of the spectacle, of being the target of his subordinates’ amusement, grabbed Leni’s elbow and pulled her along, his grip firm but not painful.
As they headed towards the campsite, the sound of retreating footsteps and muffled laughter faded, and Gustav’s mischievous voice floated from behind them, carrying on the wind, a final, taunting whisper.
“Have a joyful time. We’ll prepare dinner, Captain. Don’t worry about us.”
Gustav Vasily, I’ll deal with you later.
The thought was a silent promise, a mental note Blayden made to address Gustav’s insolence at a later, more appropriate time, when he wasn’t so thoroughly embarrassed.
Blayden finally released Leni’s arm when they returned to where the horses were tethered, a small clearing away from the main group, offering a semblance of privacy.
Before he could utter a single word, Leni plopped down onto a sturdy tree stump, her body slumping, all defiance draining from her.
She immediately buried her face in her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, a gesture of profound despair, as if trying to disappear entirely.
“Isn’t this all because you slept next to me?!” she wailed, her voice muffled by her legs, thick with self-pity.
“Oh, it’s dreadful. My life has become a nightmare since that night.”
Dreadful?
Who’s talking?
Blayden thought, a flash of annoyance crossing his face, his jaw tightening.
She has no idea what dreadful truly is, what it means to face real horror.
“Know your place. Me, with someone like you…”
Blayden began, his voice laced with a mixture of contempt and disbelief, but his words trailed off, cut short by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
He was so dumbfounded, so utterly taken aback, he couldn’t even finish his sentence.
He had never coveted a woman in war, not once, not even in the throes of victory or the depths of despair.
The concept was alien to him, a distraction he couldn’t afford.
The same was true in the palace; his focus had always been elsewhere, on duty, on strategy, on survival.
His subordinates knew this, knew his unwavering dedication, and it seemed they were now gleefully conspiring to embarrass him, taking advantage of Leni’s innocent, if ill-timed, outburst, turning his carefully constructed reputation into a laughingstock.
Had the tension eased after the battle?
He wondered, a fleeting thought of explanation.
No, he quickly dismissed the thought.
This was Gustav’s doing, a calculated act of revenge.
Gustav was getting revenge for being scolded earlier, for his perceived laziness, and Blayden was the unfortunate pawn in his scheme.
Either way, his dignity as a captain, his carefully maintained composure, his aura of unflappable authority, was in tatters, shattered by a few careless words.
Leni, still consumed by her self-pity, even now, clutched her hair with both hands and furiously messed it up, tangling the strands further, a desperate act of frustration.
“It’s the worst,” she muttered, her voice thick with frustration, barely audible.
“The absolute worst thing that has ever happened to me.”
Her red hair, now disheveled and wild, fluttered in the gentle breeze, catching the warm, golden light of the sunset.
It was a mysterious, almost ethereal color, unlike any other woman’s hair Blayden had ever seen, a vibrant flame against the darkening woods.
A sudden, absurd thought struck Blayden, a thought so out of place that he pressed a hand to his forehead, as if to physically push it away, to exorcise it from his mind.
“At least that much was true,” he conceded, echoing her words, a dry, weary chuckle escaping him.
“Something more dreadful than being a slave is happening to me. Oh, good heavens, the worst of the worst of the worst changes every day, each day bringing a new level of exasperation… Ugh.”
He grimaced, the weariness evident in his voice, a profound exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue.
Leni, still absorbed in her despair, even clenched her fists and trembled, her whole body shaking, a visual representation of her inner turmoil.
Who’s talking?
The worst of the worst of the worst is changing for me, Blayden thought, a wry smirk playing on his lips, a bitter irony in his eyes.
He was the one whose carefully constructed life, his solitary existence, had been thrown into chaos by her arrival, by her unpredictable presence.
Blayden sighed, a deep, heavy sound, “Hmph,” and with a slight lift of his foot, he nudged Leni’s backside, a clear, if gentle, command to move.
“If you don’t want to know what ‘the worst’ truly is, what real hardship feels like, go catch some fish. Prove your worth.”
Leni snapped her head up, her eyes flashing, and shot back, her voice tinged with defiance, a sudden surge of spirit.
“Then why didn’t you just leave me where I was, instead of dragging me all the way here? You were the one who brought me, so you should deal with me!”
She continued to grumble, her face deeply wrinkled in a defiant pout, her lips twisted in a stubborn line.
Then, suddenly, her eyes brightened, and a sly grin spread across her face, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Luggage doesn’t work.”
“What?”
Blayden asked, genuinely surprised by her quick wit, by the unexpected turn of her argument.
“Luggage just has to stay where it’s put,” she elaborated, her grin widening, triumphant.
“It doesn’t do things like catch fish. It simply exists, to be transported.”
Ha, you’ve realized something great.
Blayden thought, a reluctant admiration for her audacity flickering within him, a grudging respect for her unexpected intelligence.
“You’re eating luggage,” he retorted, his voice crisp and direct, a challenging edge to his tone.
“You should earn what goes into your own mouth. You are not a burden to be carried indefinitely.”
He bent down, thrusting his face close to Leni’s, his eyes holding a challenging glint, daring her to argue further.
“Shall I lift you up like luggage and put you by the stream, then? So you can fulfill your purpose?”
“You, you bastard.”
Leni gasped, her eyes widening, her cheeks flushing with indignation, a deep crimson spreading across her face.
She put force into her eyes, glaring at him, a silent vow of defiance.
Now she’s even cursing.
You must have lost your nerve after your hair was cut, after losing that symbol of your identity.
Blayden thought, a mixture of amusement and exasperation swirling within him.
He grabbed the band around Leni’s head.
The thick cloth, which had stood up like rabbit ears, crumpled in his grasp, a testament to his strength, to her sudden vulnerability.
“What… what are you going to do now?”
Leni asked, throwing her head back, her voice laced with trepidation, a hint of genuine fear.
Her tightly clenched fists loosened, and her widened eyes flickered uneasily, revealing a hint of vulnerability, a crack in her defiant facade.
Losing her hair must have been quite a shock, he mused, noting her uncharacteristic vulnerability, her sudden loss of bravado.
“I’m thinking. How to tame this troublesome slave. How to bring her into line, to make her useful.”
His voice was low, a playful threat in his tone, a hint of amusement hidden beneath the stern words.
“Can’t I just go catch fish?!”
Leni yelled, pulling her shoulders back, a sudden surge of determination replacing her earlier fear, a desperate attempt to regain control.
Blayden, looking at her with narrowed eyes, tugged hard on the headband, then let go with a sharp thwack, the elastic snapping against her head.
“Ow!”
Leni cried out, bouncing up from where she’d fallen on her bottom, a yelp of pain escaping her lips.
Without another word, she dashed towards the stream, her movements surprisingly swift, a whirlwind of motion.
She didn’t forget to turn her head and glare at him as she ran, a lingering spark of defiance in her eyes, a promise of future retribution.
Did she not expect him to be watching?
When their eyes met, her eyes widened further in surprise, she spun around abruptly, and fled, disappearing into the twilight, leaving him alone in the clearing.
What on earth was he supposed to do with that little brat?
Blayden shook his head from side to side, a mixture of amusement and sheer bewilderment on his face.
Sighs escaped him, long and weary, and his temples throbbed with a dull ache, a sign of the mental strain.
It seemed he wouldn’t be resting easily tonight either, his peaceful solitude shattered.
This unexpected addition to his life, this spirited, unpredictable girl, was proving to be far more of a challenge than any battlefield he had ever faced, any enemy he had ever encountered.
He ran a hand through his hair, a silent acknowledgement that his carefully ordered world had been thoroughly upended, transformed by a fiery red-haired girl.