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A group of horsemen came galloping from the north. There were eight riders, armored in miscellaneous fashion, carrying swords, sabers, shields, and war axes. In Izumi's opinion, they looked like bandits to a fairly convincing degree, with long scars and wild tattoos on their arms and faces, as well as some eye-catching hairstyles. Yuliana innocently assumed them to be mercenaries, on their way to the next job. Whatever Riswelze thought, she checked if her daggers were all where they were supposed to.
The group slowed down as they neared the merchant's carriage.
At first, it looked like they were going to pass by quietly, but then suddenly changed their minds.
The bald rider at the front stopped his horse a few paces away from the merchant, who stood by the road and watched his daughter brush the oxen.
“Hey. This your carriage, old man?” the stranger asked.
He was in his mid-twenties, by a rough estimate. None of the men were particularly old. As said, his head was shaved bald, but he had a pointy, dark goatee jutting along his chin. His ears had simple steel piercings on them and there was an old scar splitting his brow above the right eye. Like most of his companions, the man was dressed in slim leather armor and had the hide of some wolf-like animal wrapped around his waist.
Without turning to face the stranger, the merchant stood still and answered,
“Why, yes, it is.”
Looking away to south, along the road, the rider leaned forward and asked,
“Tell me, grandfather, how much in gold do you carry?”
While he talked, his companions carried silently on, drawing a distinct line between the carriage and the three women on the other side of the road.
“Not one mark to test my teeth on,” the old man said. “All I own I've put into my merchandise.”
“And that merchandise is?”
“The finest carpets, dresses, and tapestries from Estua, for the Imperial markets.”
The rider spat and asked again,
“Tell me, in good faith, grandfather, how much in silver do you carry?”
“You must not have heard me, poor boy. I have no more gold than I have silver. I am a merchant, and a merchant has no coin while he has yet to sell a fiber. You should see as much for yourself, unless your sight is as poor as your hearing.”
The rider looked at the distant scenery for a moment in silence, a deep, guilty-looking frown on his face, and then spoke again,
“Me and the boys left Wysel seven nights back. Lost our old jobs there. They wouldn't have us in Varnam either. To the Empire, we don't go. Don't have a roof over our heads. Not a copper to our name. Not much food left either. Consider sparing some of your coin and we'll be on our way. We don't mean any trouble to you, old man. Just trying to look out for ourselves.”
“You make me repeat myself,” the old man remained unbending. “I can't give what I don't have! You don't eat cotton, do you?”
“That your daughter,” the rider ignored him and nodded at the girl in the pale blue dress next to the cart.
“Yes, that she is," the merchant's reply came quietly.
“Didn't inherit her looks from her father, praise the Divines. What is her name?”
“Livia,” the old man's daughter answered for herself.
“Say, how old are you, Livia,” the rider asked her.
“Thirty-one,” she answered, trying to hide her displeasure with poor success.
“Why is a woman like you traveling with this cheap geezer?”
“Because it's my work.”
“Oh, is that so? Worthwhile, is it? Selling—what?— carpets? Pays enough to feed five mouths for weeks before they've even sold one rug? Maybe I should become a carpet seller myself? It clearly works out better than being a mercenary these days. Hey, boys, change of jobs! What say, we all become carpet sellers today?”
The other mercenaries laughed wearily at the humor.
“So?” The rider turned to the old merchant again, gesturing in the three travelers' direction. “The women there, who are they? They your daughters too? I don't know what you're hiding in those trousers, but they seem to be from different mothers if that's the case.”
The joke this time brought up some louder laughter.
“They would be mercenaries I hired for my protection,” the old man said.
This time, the joke didn't need a punchline to nearly drop the crowd from their saddles.
“I see, mercenaries,” the rider raised his brows and shrugged to his companions. “That's—that's a funny coincidence, don't you think? Always nice to run into colleagues on the road. The hired muscle does seem to be armed, at least. You know what? I am starting to believe you truly have not a copper in your pockets, old man.”
After another round of chuckles, the rider climbed down from his saddle and approached the old merchant. “Alright then. Since you insist you have no money and being a mercenary is not exactly profitable around these parts, for most people, we are going to have to take the women and the rags and sell them. Or do your 'bodyguards' have something to say about that?”
He gave a brief, questioning look at the trio sitting by the road and raised his brows.
“Very well, I shall be your opponent—” Izumi immediately stood up, reaching for her sword.
—“You most certainly will not!” Yuliana and Riswelze pulled her back down.
Instead, the princess stood up and went on to approach the riders herself.
“You are making a grave mistake here, gentlemen,” she said. “I don't know about your past or your circumstances, but being reduced to banditry must not be your ideal career choice by any means. Or am I wrong?”
Her clear voice rang in their ears, and no one uttered a word as her courageous gaze swept over the crowd.
“Therefore,” she continued, “I propose that you carry on your way and we shall do the same, without any needless arguments. I see you come from the north and voice complaints regarding the Imperials, so I can only assume you've run into some problems with the local law. I do not know the current state of the Empire, but I assure you that Luctretz remains safe and prosperous enough to provide reputable employment for healthy young men. In here, no one cares what the Imperials think of you. Rather, is not an enemy of an enemy a friend? Until proven otherwise, at least. This can become your fresh start, gentlemen, I suggest you don't throw it away without at least seeing what it has to offer for you. Put your strength to more constructive use. You know suffering, I can see that much in your eyes. I hear it in your voices. But know this: from that pain comes the power to shield others and spare them from meeting the same fate.”
Yuliana hadn't climbed the ranks to the position of a knight captain due to her royal lineage alone. Her natural charisma and strength of character captivated her listeners at once, rekindling a sense of pride and dignity in them. It was like before fear for herself, she was selflessly appealing to them for their honor's sake, which made her seem that much more valorous and worthy of respect.
Of course, the men had no way of knowing that she really was appealing to them for their own lives' sake, with the all-too-easily provoked earthling behind her. Yuliana also wanted to prove to Izumi that bloodshed was not a civilized or acceptable form of problem-solving.
“I propose that our good employer here will gift you a fine tapestry or two for you to sell, so that you may begin your quest for your rightful place in the society free of hunger. And so that he will not oppose this act of charity, I will personally work to pay the kindness back to him. Therefore, we all go from here free of debt, crime, and bodily harm. How does this sound to you, gentlemen? Will you find it in you to agree to my proposal?”
At her words, the man who seemed to be something of a leader of the gang, directed a questioning look at the old merchant. A bitter expression on his dry face, Livia's father finally nodded.
"Fine." The rider then gestured to one of his companions, “Take two, and we're on our way.”
With effort, Yuliana contained the reflexive sigh of relief.
“We're not savages,” the rider said to her. “But these are dark times. We're just trying to stay alive. You can see that?”
“I understand that,” the princess nodded. “And I do not fault you for doing so. But it is my belief that good men fare better in these lands than the foul. There is justice left in this world. So long as you don't give up on your humanity, but work to protect those weaker than you, your chivalry will one day find its righteous reward.”
At Yuliana's warm words, some of the riders were even showing smiles.
“I cannot for the life of me remember the last time someone spoke to us as equals,” the man bitterly said. “Like we were something other than filth. It won't fill our stomachs, but no one here disputes you've earned your freedom with those words.”
With that, the formerly tense situation appeared to have turned favorably.
However, the mercenaries were not the only travelers on the road that day.
The low rumbling of heavy hooves suddenly drew everyone's attention—this time coming from the south.
There was another, a larger group of horsemen, fifteen of them.
Mistaking them for bandits, or even mercenaries, was impossible to anyone, thanks to their uniform blue clothing.
It was clearly a squad of true knights, heavily armored. Mysteriously enough, they rode with no banners or flags to reveal their purpose or Lord, and their attires lacked distinguishing brands and emblems. They weren't Luctretzian guards patrolling the highways, or royal escorts, that was for sure. Only one rational reason could be given to hiding their insignias—regardless of their rank and honor, they were up to no good and aware of it.
The knight squad's alarming appearance raised the tension again to unprecedented heights.
Among the group of merchants, mercenaries, and adventurers, only one recognized the newcomers. Flags or no flags, the former knight princess of Langoria would never fail to identify a task force of her own army.
Wordlessly suppressing the mercenaries' dominating presence on the scene with sheer numbers, the knights slowed down and rode boldly right between them, before coming to a stop with a single command from their leader.
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The said leader then proceeded to ignore the merchant and the mercenaries and rode his deep brown, almost red horse straight up to Yuliana.
Nimbly climbing down from the saddle, he removed his helmet and bowed to the girl.
“Your highness.”
From under the steel pot emerged the head of a robust young man in his early twenties. Izumi thought his face looked like that of the default protagonist of a standard western video game. His light brown hair was cut tidily short in a militaristic fashion and his steel-blue eyes had a relaxed look, speaking of confidence in both his men as well as his own strength. Light stubble covered his jaw, indicating that he hadn't had the time to shave in a few days.
“Sir Brian Elvin Mallory,” Yuliana named the knight with a forced smile. “A long way from home.”
Straightening his posture, the man answered with an ironic smile of his own, while reciting the lines the law demanded to be delivered upon apprehending a criminal,
“By the order of his Majesty, King of Langoria, I will hereby place you, Yuliana Da Via Brannan, under arrest on the charges of theft, high treason, and manslaughter. Please remove your weapon and come with us, or resisting arrest will be added to your charges. We are authorized to use force, if necessary.”
The mercenaries around made surprised sounds at the revelation. The gallant female mercenary had been a genuine princess!
“Brian, you don't have the authority to arrest me in Luctretz,” the princess replied, trying not to pay attention to the audience, “which means you recited all that for nothing.”
“A-ha,” he retorted. “Apparently, a clause was found in a two-hundred-year-old article, which gives us jurisdiction in the principality. So we're technically abiding by the law here.”
“And what do the Luctretzians think about that two-hundred-year-old clause?”
“Let's just say we're not asking for their opinion.”
Yuliana could only smile crookedly at his words,
“They found just the perfect guy for the job, didn't they?”
In response, the knight exhaled deep and shook his head,
“What are you doing, Yulia? High treason? Please tell me this isn't just a terrible joke, and you have an actual reason for doing all this?”
“I do have a reason, yes. And I wouldn't dream of calling it a joke.”
“You could've told me. Why did you leave by yourself? You could've been killed!”
“And drag you down as well? You know that was never an option for me.”
“How about letting others decide for themselves if it's an option or not?”
“I'm sorry, Brian. I really am. But I chose this for myself and if this path is the wrong one, then I alone should pay the price for it.”
“That's not fair. I thought we were comrades in arms? No, I thought we were friends. Yet, every time it really matters, you decide to be a princess and leave everyone else behind.”
The two continued their exchange, as if in a bubble of their own. The onlookers felt the conversation differed somewhat from the way they had imagined a knight arresting a fugitive would pan out.
“So, is he her boyfriend or what?” Riswelze turned to Izumi and asked.
“Oh! The much-rumored fiancé?” Izumi gasped.
“Neither of those,” Yuliana, who heard them perfectly well, said.
“...A lover then?” the assassin shrugged.
“A work liaison!? I thought you were pure like me, Yule! How could you play me like that!?”
“Would you two mind being quiet for a bit?” the princess was starting to lose her mental fortitude.
“Who are they?” the knight glanced at the two women sitting on the rocks by the road and asked Yuliana.
“Ah, they are...friends? They've been traveling with me. A lot happened...”
“See, friendzoned?” Riswelze remarked, fully enjoying the chance to make the princess look bad. “As soon as a hot stud shows up—ooh, talk about getting the cold shoulder. You're in the free markets now, huh?”
“So sneaking into my bed every night meant nothing at all!? It was just a phase!?” Izumi lamented.
“You are doing this completely on purpose, aren't you...?” Yuliana wanted to curl up and cry.
Thinking quickly, the knight, Brian Mallory, then said to the princess,
“Tell me one thing. This whatever quest you're on, it's dangerous, isn't it?”
Regaining her composure, Yuliana looked away and answered,
“I do not think I will ever return.”
“Okay. No surprises then.”
At that moment, one of the knights brought his horse closer,
“Captain, what is the meaning of this? Are we not going to arrest her?”
“She's the princess of Langoria, as well as your superior,” Brian turned to face the rider. “You owe her respect, Stopher.”
“Whatever you say, Captain. So are we taking her or not?”
“Guess what? Not my headache anymore.”
“What?”
“I’m saying, I'm resigning from the guard, effective immediately.”
“What—? Captain, have you lost it?”
“Brian?” Yuliana looked at the knight in surprise. “You don't mean...”
“There are times when you only have bad choices to make,” the man said, “and when it's a time like that, you have to stop hiding behind codes and do what you feel is right. You told me that, Yulia. And now's such a time, as far as I can tell. Either I let you go and fail my orders, or arrest you and hate myself for the rest of my days. So I'm picking the third option.”
“Why do we suddenly have a guy pulling a heroic sacrifice for the girl?” Izumi questioned the situation. “No matter how you look, I'm the special snowflake protagonist here, yet nothing like that ever happens to me!”
“Oh, you know, everything just works out mysteriously well for you when you're royalty,” Riswelze added in her loaded opinion.
“Captain,” the knight called Stopher was also getting frustrated. “Even if you tell us to, we can't abandon his majesty's orders. All this means is that we have to take the both of you. You could face the gallows for this! Please reconsider, sir!”
“Well, I'm not telling you a thing,” Brian replied. “If you plan to take us, give it your best shot. I'll do the same.”
“So, since we're fighting, is it finally my turn yet—?” Izumi was about to stand up, reaching for her sword.
—“It is not!” Yuliana frantically waved at her to remain seated.
“Yes, please stay back, madam, this could get ugly,” Brian chivalrously warned the woman as well.
Izumi sat back down, but only Riswelze sitting next to her could tell that the woman was getting seriously miffed. However, even without her involvement, the situation was only about to get more complicated.
“Excuse me!” The leader of the mercenaries forced his way into the conversation. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen! Isn't someone being left out of the loop here?”
“You were still here?” Brian glanced at him.
“Whoa there, mate! We were here first! The lady never said anything about being a sodding princess! So all those uplifting words were just that much horseshit? Took us for downright simpletons, didn't you? 'Them gullible peasants', huh! Well, too bad! The cat's out of the bag now! I'm afraid our previous agreement isn't valid anymore! On the grounds of us being fucking deceived! I couldn't care less about a few rags and pocket change now! Listen up here, all you potheads! If you want 'her highness' here, you had better scoop together at least ten thousand marks in pure gold. No, make that twenty—thirty thousand!”
The announcement spread an icy, heavy silence over the crowd.
“I don't know if you can count,” Brian glared at the mercenary and slowly said, “but there are seven of you and sixteen of us.”
“We aren't being counted, are we?” Riswelze noted. “The princess is counted, but not us? What do you think of that?”
Izumi was too busy pouting and puffing her cheeks to say anything.
“So this is what it comes down to, no matter what I try...?” Yuliana lamented.
“Listen, math doesn't work like that in the real world, scout boy,” the tattooed mercenary told Brian. “And you're a long fucking way from home. You will need another hundred of your milk-faced suckers before it becomes anything close to a match.”
The knights didn't take well to that comment and were starting to shift irritably.
In no time, the mercenary gang and the Langorian task force were locked in a hateful staring contest, ready to draw arms. Yuliana tried desperately to think of a way to avoid the impending bloodshed. Was there no way to resolve things peacefully at this point? Or at least a way to reduce the damages?
As she was busily looking for an answer, her attention was drawn to something else.
Yet another rider on horseback approached, up the hill from the south. Thanks to the commotion, he had made it quite close, before anyone else noticed.
This one was without company, neither a mercenary nor a knight, by the looks of it. A young man less scarred than the mercenaries, less steadfast than the knights, dressed in a long black coat, which together with the frilly white sleeves and the ornate golden sword handle sticking from his belt suggested a noble background. His hair was also dark, short and tidily combed. The look on his face was grim, a light moustache overshadowing the stiff upper lip.
Reaching the place with all the armed mercenaries and knights, the rider spotted the lone girl in white standing in the middle of the group.
“I knew it!” the youth exclaimed and leaped off the horseback before it had fully stilled. “I knew the knights would lead me to you! At last, I have found you, your highness!”
“No. No, no, no. You want the princess too?” the mercenary leader questioned the rider in disbelief.
“If that's the case, we're going to have a problem,” Brian agreed.
“No. It is not my desire to possess her, as much as it is to deprive the whole of Ortho of her,” the newcomer answered, receiving odd looks.
“You are...?” Looking at the lone traveler, Yuliana realized she knew him.
“That's right,” he recognized the knowing look in her eyes and defiantly faced her. “I am Gregory Doria Eisley, the son of Sir Ivanov Eisley, the Baron of Troms, and the Captain of the Kingsguard. And a princess or an outlaw, I am here for no other reason than to avenge the father you murdered. This stain on my family's honor cannot stand. I hereby challenge you to a duel, with our lives on the line.”
The man, Gregory, pulled off his white silk glove and threw it down on the road, at Yuliana's feet.
“The princess killed somebody?” Riswelze discreetly asked Izumi.
“Eeh, she did? I’m shocked!” Izumi exclaimed.
Yuliana wanted to cry.
You're the one who killed him, and you don't even remember?
However, on the outside, the princess said nothing but only coldly nodded to the young man,
“Indeed, the blame for your father's premature demise lies with me and no other.”
“Then you will accept my challenge,” Gregory said.
“No one’s challenging anyone here.” Brian stepped between them.
“No? And you still call yourself a knight, sheltering murderers now?” The Baron's son bitterly asked him, then turned to look around. “Did you know this, gentlemen? My father's remains were brought home—in two caskets. I...saw what was in them. And as we buried him, as we laid him to rest in the family grave, the head had to be kept covered. Because everything above the shoulders was so...Women would not have endured the sight of it. I could only recognize him by the rings on his fingers. My mother could not bid her last farewell to her husband, to the most outstanding, admirable and loyal man in our land. In the world. A man, who fell in defense of the law, and was pecked apart by the crows for it. And I alone must uphold our house now, listening to all sorts of inbred mongrels bark without rest, 'Lord Eisley of the Kingsguard was a weak fool who lost all his men and got done in by a girl barely of age!'”
“Pfft...”
The mercenaries chuckled at the story, further infuriating the Baron's son.
“So I swore before his gravestone! A girl or not, a princess or not, she will have to pay! In this place, I will redeem my family's honor!”
Brian glanced over his shoulder at Yuliana.
“Is it true, what he says?”
“More or less,” Yuliana answered, biting her lip.
“I have to see this!” the mercenary leader suddenly shouted, “Clear up! Make room! Make room! Let them fight. Can the boy redeem his father? Or will he perish in the hands of a little girl, the way his old man did? Hahaha! This is too good!”
“What if he kills the gal?” one of his men asked. “Who are we going to sell then?”
“The lad, of course, dumbass. His family should want him back. A Baron!”