The dim light of the tavern lent the wooden beams a warm, amber glow, and the smell of ale mingled with the more earthy aromas of damp straw and ageing wood. A low murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of tankards or the creak of chairs shifting against the uneven floorboards. I sat at the head of a long, roughly carved table. The room’s warmth contrasted sharply with the biting chill of the mountain air outside, making the tavern feel like a haven—for now.
“So,” I began while looking at the gathered faces. What do you all think?”
Silvana leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. The firelight danced off her sharp features as she spoke, with her tone measured as always. “It’s straightforward enough. An escort mission with food supplies isn’t exactly risky. Those Bandits are after gold, not grain. But,” she paused, her piercing eyes locking onto mine, “our troops are tired. We’ve had back-to-back engagements. They need rest, and we’ll need to resupply before we leave.”
Nathanos nodded in agreement, his broad frame making the sturdy chair beneath him seem fragile. “The men’ve been murmuring about the last fight. Some still bear the weight of what we saw in that cave. A couple of days to regroup wouldn’t hurt.”
He also added “ Leon needs to heal his wounds as well. We can never be sure that there aren’t any dragons living in those caves; if there are, we’ll have to rely on him.” The room instantly filled with everyone’s laughs after his remark.
“And,” Abda chimed in, her voice soft but insistent, “the route takes us through mountainous terrain. Those areas are known for rare herbs, some with medicinal properties. It would be wise to gather what we can. Supplies aren’t just food and weapons, after all.”
Sora, seated beside Abda, tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’ve read about the Eleftheroi. They’re not like the other groups we’ve dealt with. They’re proud, almost fiercely so, and their hatred for the Khuzait runs deep. The castle we’re heading to is more than just a stronghold; it’s their heart. They once roamed the Khuzait plains before being driven out, so their hostility toward the nomads is generational. We should tread carefully.”
The table fell silent for a moment as we all absorbed her words. Finally, I spoke. “It’s decided then. We’ll take the job but rest and resupply first. Silvana, make sure the men have everything they need. Nathanos, I want you to oversee the preparation of provisions. Abda, mark the areas on the map where you’d like to search for herbs. Sora, keep digging into what you can find about the Eleftheroi. And finally, Leon you should stop drinking and rest you need to heal that wound.
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group before we rose from the table, each heading to carry out our tasks. I lingered a moment longer, letting the warmth of the fire soak into my skin before stepping out into the frigid night.
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The two days passed swiftly, filled with bustling activity as we readied ourselves for the journey. The men’s spirits seemed to lift as they busied themselves with preparations, and by the morning of our departure, Nova was once again a cohesive, determined unit. The road to the Eleftheroi territory stretched before us, a winding path that twisted through dense forests before giving way to rocky terrain.
The journey was uneventful at first. The rhythmic crunch of boots against the dirt road, the occasional jingle of bridles, and the creak of wagon wheels formed a steady backdrop to our conversations.
I found myself walking beside Abda. She carried her usual assortment of pouches and tools, her eyes darting to the sides of the path, scanning the landscape for something I couldn’t yet see.
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“Spotting anything useful already?” I asked, breaking the friendly silence.
Abda glanced at me, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Always. These mountains are a treasure trove of medicinal plants. Look over there.” She pointed to a patch of small, silvery-green leaves growing between two rocks. “That’s mountain sage. Its extract can help with wounds or inflammation.”
I raised an eyebrow, impressed. “I had no idea you’d be this excited about the trip.”
“Excited might be pushing it,” she replied with a chuckle. “But these plants are rare in the lowlands. Up here, they thrive in the rocky soil and harsh conditions. There’s another one.” She crouched to inspect a cluster of bright yellow flowers clinging to a shaded crevice. “Starlight bloom. It’s good for calming fevers.”
“You know, I’ve always admired your knowledge,” I admitted. “But I didn’t realize how much these plants could mean to us.”
Abda’s expression softened as she stood. “In battle, everyone looks to swords and shields, Augustus. But sometimes, the difference between life and death is a simple dressing or a brewed tonic. If we’re careful, this journey could provide us with enough supplies to stock our infirmary for months.”
I nodded, appreciating the practicality of her perspective. “Then gather what you can. I’ll make sure we slow down when we need to.”
Her eyes lit up with gratitude. “Thank you. And one more thing, Augustus—there’s a plant here, called ghostroot. It’s incredibly rare, but if I find it, it’ll be worth more than gold to us. Keep an eye out for a pale, almost translucent flower growing close to water.”
“Ghostroot,” I repeated, committing the name to memory. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”
We walked in silence for a while after that, the conversation lingering in my mind. Abda’s knowledge was a reminder of how every member of Nova brought something vital to the table. By the time we reached the base of the mountains, the air had grown colder, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the metallic tang of stone. The terrain became more challenging, the path narrowing as it wound upward. Abda’s eyes lit up as she spotted patches of rare herbs growing along the rocky slopes.
“Stop for a moment,” she called out, dismounting from her horse with practised ease. “These are invaluable. Give me a moment to gather them.”
We watched as she moved with precision, her hands deftly plucking the herbs and storing them in small pouches. Sora, ever curious, leaned over to me. “Did you know some of these plants can fetch more than gold in the right markets?”
“Not surprising,” I replied, my eyes scanning the rugged landscape. “The Eleftheroi live in harsh conditions. They must rely on what the mountains provide.”
The castle came into view as we rounded a bend, its silhouette stark against the backdrop of jagged peaks. Unlike the grand fortresses of the Empire, this was a simpler structure, built for function rather than form. The walls were sturdy, the towers low and utilitarian. Yet there was a certain beauty in its resilience, a testament to the people who called it home.
At the gates, we were greeted by a young man with a commanding presence. He had dark hair that shined in the sunlight and a confident smile that put us at ease. “Welcome,” he said, his voice warm but formal. “I am Ruslan, elder son of our chief. We’re glad you’ve arrived on time. My father wishes to address you this evening, but for now, you are our guests. We will do our best to make you comfortable.”
We were led to a cluster of huts just outside the castle walls. They were modest but clean, with thick woollen blankets and small hearths to keep the cold and the winds at bay. The men settled in quickly, grateful for the chance to rest after the journey.
As the sun dipped below the mountains, Ruslan himself came to take us to dinner. The dining hall within the castle was a large, stone-walled chamber lit by flickering torches and a roaring fire. The smell of delicious food made my stomach growl in anticipation.
The Eleftheroi warriors mingled freely with their families, creating an atmosphere that was both communal and welcoming. It was clear that this was more than just a stronghold; it was a home.
The meal began with Ruslan’s father, a grizzled man with piercing eyes, addressing the gathered crowd. He spoke of their struggles, their history, and their gratitude for our presence. Though his words were formal, there was an underlying sincerity that resonated deeply.