Bianca trailed the destruction left behind by Vera and Snow. With each slaughtered camp, she grew colder in her sympathies towards the victims but still made a point to her squire that even if you disagree with another soul, they deserve a burial.

  By the fourth and final camp, she had six wagons of corpses wrapped in thick brown cloths. She gave her squire the honour of hauling the final body by himself. He was exhausted, as was she, but their duty was far from over.

  “Good thing I brought shovels,” said Bianca. “We’ll find a fresh patch of dirt somewhere in the forest. It’s a lot of digging, but it must be done—after, we’ll leave the carts at Arcyril with the first Valan guard we see.”

  Bianca wasn’t happy with what she’d found at the final camp. She’d been following the trails of Snow and Vera for miles, but now it had suddenly ended. She’d checked every tent, every tree, but never found any hiding criminals. Her only hope now was to go to the closest town and check the inns.

  Her squire, Billid Ransomell, contested the idea that they were stupid enough to stay close to Vatanil. “If I had slaughtered all of these men, I’d take all I own and leave the nation,” he said. “I’m not saying I think they’ve left Valan, Miss Bianca, I’m just saying that I don’t think they’d be in Arcyril.”

  Billid was a young lad of seventeen, squire of three month. He had dark-silver hair, lime eyes, quite small in height and width, but a large heart that wanted to be a hero. He wore a brown short-sleeved tunic made of gambeson underneath a leather cuirass. Left arm with a steel gauntlet, the other bare, green-veined from his gifts. He carried his sword on his back, sheathed in a scabbard. His eyes were naturally sad, leading to a lot of strangers giving him a gentle hug in passing as they felt he needed one.

  “What other paths are there other than Arcyril?” Bianca asked curiously. “No further trails. They couldn’t have wandered back to Vatanil. They must be somewhere.”

  Billid gave a shrug. He had no clue. He packed up their supplies and prepared the horses for another journey, then joined Bianca as she leaned against a tree, looking at an owl.

  “Do you follow the Voiceless One?” she asked her squire. “I do. That owl is looking at me like we’ve missed something.”

  “Should I do another search? I checked everything.”

  “If that Voiceless One wanted us to move with haste, it would be hooting like a starving puppy.” She allowed herself to slide down the tree into a comfortable seat on the roots. “Sit, Billid. We’ve done a lot of work. A small rest, then we continue. Godwin wants us to kill… three… four birds with one tiny stone. Find the prisoner; find the stolen gold of Lakevalor, find the prisoner’s two companions, and find Runaya.”

  She neglected to mention Godwin never ordered a thing.

  Billid removed his scabbard and cuirass, then sat at an opposing tree to face her. “Nice day,” he squeaked. “Sun is—”

  “You don’t need to make small conversation with me,” she said with a chuckle. “You may be my squire, but you’re my friend. Who gives a damn about the sun? Tell me something interesting. How do you fare in your life on the other side of the city? Maybe you’ve found a sweet maiden to lessen your sorrows.”

  “I’m not sad,” he assured. “I just look this way.”

  “Of course. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I meant since your brother rode north with the Vaelirian Bloods.”

  “Oh.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I do miss him.”

  “Soooo… has a maiden caught your eye?”

  “No.”

  “Hm. Do you think you’ll ever find a wife?”

  “Huh? I mean… sure, I guess. If I wander around Vatanil I’d probably find a few women with rings on their fingers. I’d hope the king allows some marriages to happen.”

  Bianca gave a sarcastic laugh until she realised Billid’s answer was a serious one. “I meant do you think you’ll marry.”

  “Me? Oh gods, I hope not. I’d be a terrible husband.”

  “Why so?”

  “Well… there was a girl once. She had orange hair, like yours, but a bit more red. She claimed she liked to hunt and cook—I took her out into this same forest and hunted down a pig. She cried, then tried to bring the hog back to life with a magical spell she didn’t know how to cast. She then insisted she knew how to roast them over a fire. I went to scavenge some berries to go with it. When I came back, the pig was blacker than a plagued child’s vomit. She sat on my lap and tried to take off my shirt, claiming she would put coin towards fresh meat from the markets instead of hunting our own food. I pushed her off and ran as fast as I could.”

  Bianca giggled. “And why does this mean you’d be a terrible husband?”

  “Well… she was crying. I made her cry. I think she wanted me to cook the pig, so that sucked too. I left her alone in the woods while I ran back to the city. I never saw her again, probably because I begged you to move me to the opposite side of the city.”

  “That’s why you asked me to move you? You said you wanted to be closer to Keep Blacksteel to learn more.”

  “I lied,” he squeaked. “Am I in trouble?”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Of course not. You’ll be in trouble if you don’t find that girl and apologise for what you did. She liked you. It seems like she was just a bit confused herself.”

  Billid nodded and wrote down a reminder in his journal. “Do you think you’ll ever have a husband?” he asked sheepishly.

  “No,” she said firmly. “Not for me. The one I wanted isn’t here anymore.”

  “But you had a squire before me, didn’t you? You’ve proved you can find another if the first doesn’t work out.”

  She chewed on her tongue before responding. “The man I once loved was my old squire.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

  “You’ve been my squire long enough. I’ll tell you the tale if you want to know. It’s not a proud one, nor is it long, nor will I repeat it once I’ve told you.”

  “Will you think less of me for wanting to know?”

  “I’d never think less of a young man asking curious questions. As long as you ask respectfully and with good intentions, I’ll answer anything.”

  Billid moved to the same tree as Bianca. “I’d like to know what happened, please. Only if you’d like to.”

  “Your manners are good.” The start of the tale was the hardest to speak. “He drowned,” she forced. “A few years ago. I was your age, sparring with him at a nearby lake. I got too cocky in my skills, brought the battle onto a shitty fishing bridge and mocked him for having terrible footing, a mistake that would cost me dearly. My foot went through a rotten plank, then my whole body crashed into the waters below. I sank; I sank fast; I was never taught how to swim by anyone… my attempts to come up just made it feel worse. I felt the water in my lungs, the heat of the burning sun turn to a sharp cold as my feet hit the bottom of the lake. It was so dark, so cold, my ears popped and made me unable to think… just a constant ring that wouldn’t stop.

  It was Godwin who dragged me out of the water before the water took me. Stroke tells me that Godwin punched my chest with tears in his eyes until I started to breathe. I woke with pain in my ribs, so I knew that part was true, but I don’t remember any tears. I didn’t know what was happening when Stroke dove into the water, it took me a while to realise Cander had swam to the bottom after me. When Stroke came up… he didn’t have Cander. It took him fifteen dives to bring up the body. We buried him. I mourned. I told myself I’d never love again after that. My mistakes cost the lives of people dear to me. I don’t want to make a mistake again.”

  “That’s why I don’t like water,” Billid said. “I’d move nations if we had a sea near us. My mama tells me about dolphins. I hate dolphins. They sound evil.”

  Bianca squeezed his shoulder with a wistful smile. “You’re not very bright, are you, Billid?”

  He looked at his bare arm for a second. “No. I would say I’m pale. Why do you ask?”

  She stood, ruffling his hair. “You remind me of Cander. I think he’d have liked you. He too wanted to be a hero.”

  Several owls began to hoot.

  “I’m not a follower of the Voiceless One, but those owls seem impatient now,” Billid said. “Looks like they’re all going in one direction. Should I follow them?”

  Bianca left the carts and enjoyed a brisk walk as she followed the owls in silence with Billid at her side.

  Eventually, they found a dug hole with a horrid stench coming from it, the scorch marks of Hell burned into the dirt. Bianca rubbed her fingers against it, sniffing it. “Not recent, but not old,” she said. “Explains why there’s no more tracks. They’re in Hell. The cambions truly are a part of this.”

  Billid vomited up his lunch onto Bianca’s shoe. He fell to her feet in shame, trying to clean it off with his bare hand.

  “I’m sorry!” he cried. “I just—the smell, it’s worse than those bodies from the camps.”

  Bianca wiped it off her own shoe with a cloth. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse than a squire spewing on my shoe. You’ll need to toughen up that stomach if you’re ever to join your brother in the Vaelirian Bloods. Real war smells horrid. Stroke never found the words to describe it to me.”

  Bianca peeked into the hole and saw the armour of a Valan Guard. She saw his satchel had been tampered with, then tried to identify the face, which was too rotten to see.

  Unusual, she thought. If a guard went missing, I would’ve heard about it. This man either isn’t directly from the city, or someone had this man killed in secret.

  Billid pinched his nostrils shut. “Want to know who I think did all of it?” he said. “I’ve got some good suspicions.”

  “Clearly it was someone who didn’t want the Sentinels to see them burying a body. It’s close to the camp over there, it was likely them. No other culprits come to mind.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant who the one who killed Runaya Valan.”

  “Her name was Runaya Rall,” Bianca corrected. “And you’re wrong to think she’s dead. She’s alive. We’ll find her.”

  “We’ll find a corpse, maybe. I go off hunches. I have a hunch she is dead… and your owls don’t seem to be denying my words as they listen to them.”

  “That’s not how the will of the Voiceless One works.”

  “I think it was Captain Zishang who did it, maybe even Godwin himself. I reckon he had a hand in Cander’s drowning too.”

  “Mind your tongue,” she threatened. “Do not think of such a terrible accusation without evidence. Zishang is my friend. I… I will admit that the thought of Godwin having a hand in it did cross my mind once or twice… but he had no reason to.”

  “Maybe he loves you.”

  “Godwin doesn’t love me,” she scoffed. “That man couldn’t love another soul if his live depended on.”

  Billid shrugged. “If you say so,” he sighed. “What about my theory about Zishang? He got a seat on the council to quickly.”

  “That was my doing. I played Godwin like a fiddle. I told him that I didn’t want Zishang on the council, he tends to do the opposite of what I suggest. Zishang is loyal, I knew he would serve Godwin well. Runaya is not dead, we will find her.”

  “Just doesn’t feel right in my stomach… the cambions… this new prisoner… Stroke remaining in the city and not searching. It all feels wrong.”

  Bianca applauded his desires to seek justice with a pat on the back. “You’ll make a good knight one day. If I ever fall in combat before I’ve knighted you, search southern Dastane for a knight named Shimmer. He’s an old friend. He’ll knight you.”

  “Dastane? How’d he get by the Vaelirian Bloods?”

  “If I can’t smuggle a friend through our borders using my name of Valan, what’s the point of the name?”

  An owl landed at Bianca’s foot. She picked it up, following the direction of the turning head. It stared through the trees into the Chasm of Death mountains.

  “Oh no,” Billid groaned. “I don’t want to travel up there all because an owl stared at it… my feet are already hurting.”

  “The will of the Voiceless One bids us to travel there,” Bianca said gleefully. “Time to bury these bodies, young lad. Put those arms to work and I’ll get you a warm meal at Arcyril when we’re done.”