The road to Myzea stretched like a serpent winding through the rugged terrain, with twisting and turning roads. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the path as the golden hues of dusk painted the horizon. The fresh air carried the faint scent of pine and the earthy aroma of damp soil from a recent rain. Occasionally, the distant cry of a hawk pierced the stillness, a reminder of the wildness that surrounded us.
The landscape was a patchwork of rolling hills and dense forests, their dark shapes standing stark against the fading light. To our left, a river sparkled like molten silver, its gentle murmur blending with the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The journey had been uneventful so far.
I rode at the front of the caravan, flanked by Leon and Silvana. Abda and Ruslan were behind us, keeping a watchful eye on the wagons loaded with our precious cargo. Nathanos brought up the rear, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Sora was deep in conversation with one of the soldiers.
As we rounded a bend in the road, a group of men emerged from the shadows of the trees, blocking our path. There were six of them, dressed in mismatched armour and armed with an assortment of weapons. Their leader, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“Halt!” he barked, his voice rough and commanding. “You’re on a toll road. Pay the entrance tax, or turn back.”
I exchanged a glance with Leon, who raised an eyebrow in silent question. Something about this didn’t sit right with me. Toll collectors usually operated at city gates, not in the middle of nowhere. I nudged my horse forward, stopping a few paces from the man.
“Entrance tax?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral. “Since when do toll collectors operate outside the city walls?”
The man’s eyes narrowed, and I noticed a flicker of unease in his expression. He recovered quickly, though, puffing out his chest in an attempt to appear authoritative. “New rules,” he said gruffly. “Pay up, or you’re not passing.”
I leaned forward in my saddle, my gaze steady. “And who, exactly, issued these new rules? The governor of Myzea? The local magistrate? Or perhaps you’re just making this up as you go along?”
The man’s face reddened, and his hand tightened on his sword. “You calling me a liar?” he growled, taking a step closer.
Before I could respond, Silvana moved her horse beside mine, her hand resting on the dagger at her side. “We’re not paying a single denar until you prove you have the authority to collect this tax,” she said, her voice cold and cutting. “Show us your credentials.”
The man hesitated, his eyes darting between Silvana and me. His companions shifted uneasily, their hands hovering over their weapons. The tension in the air was thick, and for a moment, it felt like the situation might escalate into violence.
Then, the man’s shoulders slumped, and he let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping back. “You got us. We’re not officials. Just trying to make a living.”
I felt a surge of anger but kept it in check. “You’re thieves, Capture them,” I said.
The man’s eyes widened in panic, and he took another step back. “Wait, no! We didn’t mean any harm! We’ll leave, just let us go!”
I shook my head. “You’ll face justice for this. Nathanos!” I called over my shoulder. “Take them into custody.”
Nathanos and a few of the soldiers moved forward, disarming the men and binding their hands. The would-be toll collectors offered little resistance, their boldness evaporating in the face of our numbers. As they were led away to one of the wagons, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. This encounter was too convenient, too staged. Were they just opportunistic thieves, or was there more to this?
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We continued on our way, the incident leaving a lingering tension among the group. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sky darkened, the first stars beginning to twinkle overhead. By the time we reached the outskirts of Myzea, the city’s walls loomed ahead, their imposing silhouette lit by the flickering glow of torches.
The gates were closed for the night, but the guards checked our papers and allowed us entry after a brief exchange.
Exhausted from the day’s journey, we retired to an inn near the garrison. We planned to hand over criminals to the authorities tomorrow to get a bounty.
The common room was warm and inviting, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filling the air. The sound of laughter and clinking tankards provided a comforting backdrop as we settled in for the night.
After a hearty meal, I decided to take a stroll through the city with Leon. The streets were quiet, the occasional passerby hurrying along with their heads down. The cool night air was refreshing, and the faint glow of lanterns cast a soft light on the cobblestones.
We turned a corner, entering a narrow alleyway. The shadows here were deeper, the air cooler. I was about to suggest we head back when a movement caught my eye. Before I could react, a figure lunged out of the darkness, a blade glinting in the dim light.
“Augustus, look out!” Leon shouted, shoving me aside.
The blade struck Leon’s arm, slicing through his sleeve and drawing blood. He grunted in pain but quickly recovered, drawing his sword and stepping between me and the attacker. The assassin—a lithe figure clad in dark clothing—hesitated for a moment before lunging again.
Leon parried the strike, his movements swift and precise. The clash of steel echoed through the alley as the two engaged in a deadly dance. I drew my weapon, ready to intervene, but Leon held up a hand. “Stay back!” he barked, his focus never wavering from his opponent.
The assassin was skilled, but Leon was better. With a series of quick, calculated strikes, he disarmed the attacker, sending the blade clattering to the ground. The assassin stumbled back, their eyes wide with fear, before turning and fleeing into the shadows.
Leon started to give chase, but I stopped him. “Let them go,” I said, my voice firm. “You’re hurt.”
He looked down at his arm, where blood was seeping through the fabric of his sleeve. “It’s just a scratch,” he said, though his voice was tight with pain.
I shook my head. “We need to get that cleaned and bandaged. Come on.”
We returned to the inn, where Silvana and Abda were waiting. They immediately sprang into action, tending to Leon’s wound while I recounted what had happened. The mood in the room was sombre, the weight of the attack hanging heavily over us.
“This changes things,” Sora said once Leon’s arm was bandaged. “If someone’s trying to kill you, Augustus, we need to be more careful.”
I nodded, my mind racing. “Agreed. But we also need to find out who’s behind this. This wasn’t a random attack. Someone wants us—or me—dead.”
Abda, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “Do you think it’s connected to the traders in Onira? Or maybe the men we arrested earlier?”
“It’s possible,” I said. “But we don’t have enough information to be sure. For now, we’ll increase our security and stay vigilant.”
The others nodded, their expressions grim. We spent the rest of the night discussing our next steps, the tension in the room palpable. Despite the warmth of the fire and the comfort of the inn, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched, that danger lurked just beyond the edges of our awareness.
As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts turned to the journey ahead. The road to Myzea was fraught with peril, and it seemed that every step brought us closer to the heart of a conflict we didn’t fully understand. The attack on Leon—and by extension, on me—was a stark reminder of the stakes we were playing for.
I thought about Leon, his unwavering loyalty and bravery. He had saved my life tonight, and I owed him more than I could ever repay. But I also knew that he would never ask for anything in return. That was just the kind of man he was.
But in the morning, we were met with troubling news—the thieves we had captured the previous day had already escaped.