“We’re almost at the outpost. If they’re going to do something it’ll happen soon. Be ready.”

Emil heard the voice and nodded to himself, uneasily shifting in the seat of his saddle. His eyes squinted into the fog, as he tried to make out shapes in the distance. It was next to impossible, despite his above average eyesight, he could barely make out shapes a more than a few score meters ahead of him, much less identify the silhouettes of humans- bandits who were hounding them, nipping at their heels whenever possible. Even Edessa, with her well trained ranger eyes- almost tailored for tracking foes through the wilderness, had difficulty peering into the dark forest filled with fog. 

After their first surprise attack had failed, the bandits had retreated into the fog, contenting themselves with shooting arrows into their midst, occasionally injuring or killing one of their number. Their original party had numbered around twenty five, mercenaries, sellswords, a farmhand or two with a blade, himself, and Edessa. They were now only a few men over a dozen. The others either killed during the attack, or killed during subsequent sneak attacks, with several wounded in the back or center of the column, no longer able to keep up or properly fight. 

Emil snuck a glance at the carriage and sighed, longing to be in the comfort and warmth of the ambassador's cart, instead of atop a horse, cold, sore, and uncomfortable. He shivered, and pulled his dark cloak closer to him, his armor clinking lightly as he adjusted himself. Emil had, at Edessa's suggestion, put on a shirt of chain mail supported by a stiff chestpiece of leather, paired with his leather vambraces and boots. This was to appear more competent, as Edessa had noted that he looked less like a respectable mercenary and more like an over-adventurous farmhand when he wore just his tunic and sword. Not only that, but Emil was incapable of constantly maintaining protective wards, and as Edessa had also pointed out, the fewer people that knew he was a mage, the better.

“Damn it all.” Edessa groaned, “This fog is going to be the end of us.” 

Emil immediately understood her sentiments, and agreed with them whole heartedly. Emil listened as another mercenary riding at the front with them made his own sentiments known. The mercenary had eventually identified himself as Gaarth, and seemed to be a man of good moral compass, which was more than could be said about a lot of the other mercenaries here. The man was confident, but realistic, and knew just how bad of a situation they were in. The mercenary named Gaarth was a large, bear of a man. Bulky pounds of muscle bristled beneath his rough armor, a large sword in his hand, a bow across his back, and an axe at his belt, the man definitely had the appearance of a seasoned and veteran fighter. 

Edessa gave the mercenary her name, and he nodded affirmatively, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before they shifted to her quieter companion.

"And what about you child?" Gaarth asked, nodding his head at Emil.

Emil's brow furrowed. "My name is Emil." he said quietly. "I am no child."

Even in the gloom and dark atmosphere of the forest, the mercenary managed a single guffaw of laughter. "Of course you're not, and I'm the King of Valeal." The man straightened himself in his seat and continued to stare Emil down. "By the look of you, I'd say you're no older than my son- Barely a season older than 18."

"You would be correct, ser." Emil replied plainly, without emotion.

Gaarth blinked, then furrowed his brow. "What are you doing in the company of a Ranger then?" he asked, bemusedly, "You should be at home, helping your father tend the fields. Unless you're like one of those other boys back there with a taste for adventure. Come on then, tell me. What manner of brave, battle hardened killer are you?"

"I am no killer." Emil replied in an even tone. "I am... a protector." He refrained from saying more, lest he reveal himself as a practitioner of magic. The opinions of Valeal on magicians were quite split down the middle. Some, such as Edessa, were welcoming of him and his magical abilities, others, like the Order of the Rose hunted his kind down like game. For the most part, people were uneasy around mages because of their supernatural powers and abilities, and Emil had no idea which category Gaarth would fall into. As Edessa had taught him, in most cases, it was best to air on the side of caution.

"A protector?" Gaarth said, clearly amused. "Do you protect this Ranger? It sure seems like the other way around to me. Tell me child, how many men have you killed?"

For a moment, Emil did not answer. Gaarth, seemingly satisfied in making his point, straightened in his seat to fall back in line with the rest of the column. 

"Twelve." Emil finally answered."I've killed twelve." 

Now it was Gaarth's turn to fall silent. He glanced at Emil, then at Edessa, and at Emil once more. He breathed out and nodded. "Thats... thats quite the number, for someone so young." He managed to say, his face growing more solemn and serious.

"You see ghosts, kid?" the large mercenary asked. "Its normal if you do."

Emil didn't answer, instead, he urged his horse forward, indicating that he was done talking. Falling back next to Edessa, he sighed. He didn't like closed, stuffy locations, and a forest filled with fog fit the bill. Edessa wasn't the only one on edge, and Emil felt a nagging sensation as he tried to listen to the sounds of the forest, but only heard the clatter of hooves and armor behind him. 

"Edessa." Emil murmured quietly, a small degree of urgency in his voice. His left hand, hidden within his cloak began to cup a small orb of white light as he prepared to channel magic.