Edessa Thorne & Emil Errant
“We’re almost at the outpost. If they’re going to do something it’ll happen soon. Be ready.”
For Edessa Thorne the entire scenario smelled of rot from the beginning, so much she was surprised she continued to allow herself to travel through the wood when this could’ve very well been the end of the road, figuratively speaking. The individuals that trudged in the trees and brush were not normal thinking bandits—normal bandits would have kept quiet until the caravan was off guard and there was an ample opportunity for that when they started this journey in the first place. There were many stops before the outpost and for a moment she guessed they were idiot bandits who had no idea what they were doing… until the fog set in. The fog came out of nowhere on an especially dry day with little humidity, almost like there were other forces at work with the bandits.
The raven-haired ranger took a heavy breath on her mare as she tried to look through the fog but it was to no avail. She knew how close they were to the outpost and its walls—but it was still at the most an hour until they were that fortunate and with the way things were beginning to look it certainly appeared that luck was amongst those who wished the caravan harm for their own gain. She did really hate bandits, but she understood why they were becoming more common given the state of the economy of the Valealian provinces. Despite all of the politics she still found herself not recognizing that this was Valaria now or at least it was for the moment. It wasn’t too important once they were out of the forest anyway—rural Ferros was on the horizon.
Why did she even take this contract in the first place?
Perhaps it was the idea that she needed to feed two mouths instead of one like she had become used to? It was so hard and she had been so hungry that all of the prospective gold in her face made her blind to the level of danger that would be involved in escorting and leading a merchant caravan through the woodland-entrenched wilderness; even as well-guarded as this caravan was. In fact, she had never seen so many mercenaries sticking with a caravan. What exactly were they hauling to sell to Ferros in the first place?
It must have been special to garner this kind of attention.
“Damn it all.” She groaned under her breath, “This fog is going to be the end of us.”
Her concerns were not kept to herself, not after seeing one of the mercenary men taken down by an arrow not too long ago. She had not known the man’s name but she knew he was barely old enough to hold a sword less alone tasked to deal with bandit hordes of this number. She had assumed he was a farmhand’s son who wanted a taste for adventure—it was a shame his first taste was his last. It all sent Edessa’s nerves on edge; that much could’ve been seen by anyone, especially Emil who had traveled with the ranger for at least a year now and knew her expressions well. Her comment made notice of one of the traveling mercenaries beside the two before Emil could make a comment to cool the woman's nerves.
The mercenary adjacent to the two shook his head, “Not if I can help it.”
“What good is your help when we cannot see those who seek harm? By the gods, I can barely hear them over the stomping of your mercenaries or the noise of the caravan’s horses and carriages!”
The mercenary frowned, “I’m not going to lie, this is a terrible situation we are in, but we shan’t just sit down and give up either.”
She sighed, at least he was honest as if he had spoken optimistically of how there was nothing to worry about she would’ve had to smacked him upside the head. Optimism was all well and dandy as long as it wasn’t naïve and foolhardy—or at least that’s how the Gorgonite girl felt about it. His words were right though: they shouldn’t give up just because of their rotten luck. But Edessa was not planning to give up in the first place, either. She would’ve given up long ago if their bleak scenario scared her that much.
Edessa nodded, “I’m not giving up, at any rate. If I had given up I would’ve left you for the wolves.”
“So why haven’t you?”
Why haven’t you?
It was a legitimate question, but she wasn’t sure what to say to it. She easily could’ve left them all to die when the bandits struck them next whenever that would be, but nothing in her gut or mind suggested that was an option. Many of the merchants were unarmed and some of them apprenticing children in the mercantile arts. The images flashing of the consequences of leaving the mercenaries and the caravan to fend on their own were dreadful and very disturbing. Knowing the nature of bandits was terrible and she had to wonder if the times were going to get better at all given the political revolt of Valaria, the tyranny of the ‘King’ of Gorgon, the anarchic life that many men and woman pursued as the economy fell, and of course the presence of the Order of the Rose eluding all mages to potential necromancers. How could anyone comfortably live in this world?
She broke from her pause after a half-a-minute, “I shan’t be responsible for the deaths of innocents. I guess my morality is a curse of sorts, a curse that my mentor bestowed on me when I was learning the ways of a Ranger.”
“If morality is a fool’s gambit, then paint me a jester as well.” The mercenary replied happily.
A white knight mercenary, huh? The thought made Edessa nearly chuckle even though they were not worlds apart. The Gorgonite girl took coin just as much as the mercenary did; she just held a different priority in her profession. Though she had to wonder how many of the mercenaries were like him and valued morals over coin? Surely not all of them, as that would be quite illogical given the odds. In fact, she was sure some survivors during the most recent strike by the bandits had booked it with the pretense that it was no longer their problem.
She smiled at the sentiment. “I just hope our foolishness will be enough to live through this.”
“Indeed.”
Edessa paused, perhaps it would be good to know the man’s name beside her rather than he be just another faceless sword in the wood. It oddly brought her ease to know such things when other rangers or mercenaries would liken it to naming a pig before a roast—‘Don’t add an attachment to someone that will die.’ – She remembered the mantra well enough but honestly didn’t care about it now or ever really.
“So, what’s your name ser?”
The mercenary chuckled at her ‘noble’ reference as he was certainly not knighted, and if he had been he was no longer in the service of Kings and Queens but rather any soul with coin to their name. Less bound by chivalry and more bound by currency. Regardless, he still replied with an answer. “Gaarth.”
“That’s a Valealian name, correct?”
He nodded, “And yours, ranger?”
“It’s Valealian as well.” She replied, unintentionally coyly at that.
Since her retreat to the Valealian countryside those many years ago, Edessa had become quite decent at identifying cultural benchmarks such as naming conventions, cultural nuances, and other such things. Despite herself using an Valealian name she did still sport the look of a Gorgonite—though people wrote that off often as her parents being of two different worlds. She wondered if she ever slipped up in the past and caused one to be suspicious of who she was though; but her guardian and mentor had trained her to be careful and she had been. But sooner or later she feared her past would catch up to her somehow.
“Very funny, lass.” The mercenary half-laughed as he caught another smile grace the girl's lips.
“It’s Edessa.” The ranger spoke with a smile. “Edessa Thorne.”
The full name shot some weight at the mercenary, as it was one of the names that traveled amongst the townsfolk of the countryside. For those that she had helped, people had remembered and where they remembered they spoke fondly of when divulging in their taverns. It had its benefits having a reputation, however small it in reality was, of course. Either way, the mercenary nodded as if he recognized it but not enough to comment on, it wouldn’t have surprised her if he was new to this neck of Valaria after all given how the caravan picked an awful route to travel. Edessa had suggested the longer route that held less outposts, but there seemed to be an immediacy by whoever was in charge so they took the route most likely scouted by bandits.
She wondered if they would’ve lost this many men had they followed her advice?
In spite of such thoughts, the raven-haired Gorgonite took her eyes to scanning the fog and the woodlands around her with bow in hand. She had a job to do.
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