Cassel Ancard's lips curled into a slow smile. "Took you long enough, Dom."

  "Don't worry, young lady," he said to Elisa in a gentle tone. "I'll pay you. I'll give you back the money you lost, and I'll pay you extra. Don't get the wrong idea--it's not like I'm paying for anything," he added. "Just name your price."

  The girl blinked blankly, her expression hovering between confusion and comprehension. "You don't understand?" Dom explained again. "Just tell me a price, and I'll pay whatever you ask."

  She shook her head. "I... I don't need it, sir," Elisa said slowly. "I don't need you to pay me... I just need my money back..."

  "I'll return your money and pay you extra..."

  "Thank you, but I don't need extra," she said firmly. "I only need what was already mine. That's enough."

  Dom Phelian stared at her as if she were some strange creature from another world.

  Cassel Ancard burst into laughter. "What the hell is going on today?" he said between laughs. "I'm done with this, Dom. The girl's all yours."

  "I'd rather spend time at the tavern with you," the curly-haired man replied with a chuckle.

  "And Carola."

  "Right, Carola."

  "Let's go, Dom. All this excitement has made me hungry." Cassel draped an arm around his companion's shoulders as the guards sheathed their swords. "Hey, woman," he called back, turning his head. "Save a barrel of red wine for me. I'll be back tomorrow."

  She nodded, watching their retreating figures.

  Lucas collapsed to his knees, his face blank with shock. Elisa crawled toward him. "Lucas... you..." She glanced at his wet hands and trousers, words failing her.

  He had soiled himself.

  "I... I wanted... to kill those bastards... but... I..." He remembered the feeling of his heart nearly exploding in his chest, the rage he had suppressed.

  She wrapped her arms around him.

  "I wanted to kill them!" Lucas began pounding the ground furiously, sobbing uncontrollably. His tears seemed contagious; Elisa's own began flowing down her cheeks. (Why am I crying?) she asked herself. (I don't know... but I need to cry, my lady.)

  No one disturbed them, not even the guards who passed by carrying torches. No one spared a glance for rats scurrying in the darkness.

  "Oh!" Elisa suddenly remembered something. "It's so late... this is bad." She stood, gathering the scattered coins back into her cloth pouch.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Where are you going now?" The boy helped collect the scattered glens, his left hand still clutching the warm one-glen coin. His breathing remained shallow, emotions far from settled.

  "I need to hurry to the herbalist for the young miss's medicine." She quickly righted the overturned wooden table. "And I must get to the bakery before it closes for Lady Clawyn's cake... though I doubt there'll be any fresh ones left." She spoke as she prepared to leave.

  The boy grabbed her wrist. "I'm coming with you," he said, his voice breaking slightly.

  "...Alright." The girl turned back with a smile, tear tracks still visible on her cheeks.

  "But you'll have to keep up," she warned. "I run pretty fast."

  The fish soup was terrible. Walin Barklo Vaslov's expression made that abundantly clear. After a single sip, he hadn't touched the iron bowl again. His face transformed from pain to utter boredom as he glanced around, his noble profile highlighted by the dancing firelight.

  "Not enjoying the fish soup?" Jim Harad leaned forward, but Walin deliberately turned his head away. "I'll take that as a no," Jim grinned. "These little fish aren't found just anywhere, you know. Wilton only caught them by chance. You should consider it an honor to taste soup made from them, Lord Walin."

  "That honor can go to hell," Walin replied, waving dismissively. Jim promptly picked up his bowl and drank the soup himself. "I've seen these in dirty ditches. They're slimy, stink, and taste like mud."

  "But they're fresh," Fendi Firshield remarked, carefully picking out fishbones.

  The elder dwarf snorted, plucking a blade of grass and placing it between his teeth. "I don't understand how any of you stomach this. I could forgive the young lady—she's human. But the rest of you? I'm starting to wonder if something's wrong with my taste... Oh," he rolled his eyes dramatically, "this grass is great. Tastes like grass."

  "He's gone crazy," Jim mouthed silently to Fendi.

  Caroline Tobias had already finished five bowls of soup and was now ladling her sixth. "Is it really that delicious, miss?" Fendi asked, spitting fishbones into his bowl and setting it aside.

  The girl blew gently on the steaming broth. "It's for the baby."

  "If you're counting on this slop to nourish your child, I guarantee she won't last the night," Walin quipped, spitting his blade of grass a good two feet away. "Hey, Wilton! Get us the cured rabbit meat."

  Holar Peter Wilton lay motionless on the grass. "Let him rest, Lord Walin," Jim interjected. "He needs sleep. He's taking the night watch."

  "Fine, I'll fetch it myself." Walin grudgingly pushed himself upright.

  "Remember, we still have the return journey," Jim reminded him. "Since we left Crivi, we've mostly survived on provisions we packed at the start. We don't have the energy or time for hunting, my lord. So please, just eat some of these fish. I'd rather not starve to death on our way back to Crivi."

  Walin made a sour face. "Then I'd rather let you starve."

  The two shared a knowing chuckle, their camaraderie evident.

  "I don't understand your conversation," the girl suddenly interrupted.

  "Don't mind them, miss," Fendi offered with a kind smile. "This is just their usual banter. Lord Walin has a sharp tongue but a soft heart. He doesn't truly wish Jim dead..."

  "No, that's not what I meant." Caroline set down her still-steaming bowl with decisive movements. "I don't understand what you were discussing earlier." Her gaze shifted deliberately between Walin Barklo Vaslov and Jim Harad. "What's this about going back? What do you mean, returning to Crivi?"

  "Exactly what it sounds like, miss," Fendi explained, noticing the two older dwarves had fallen silent. "Once we rendezvous with Toyef's squad tonight and complete tomorrow morning's mission, we'll head straight back to Crivi. That was our agreement with the Godmans... surely you know this, miss."

  "I do know." The chill in her voice seemed capable of extinguishing the campfire. "But it doesn't match what I was told."

  "Well now. I must admit, I no longer understand what you're saying," Walin said, glancing toward Jim and Fendi for support.