Meera nearly fell off Onyx's back as she dozed off for perhaps the tenth time. It was late at night, but thankfully, it was a clear night. Mirithia's shone brightly in the night sky, lighting the way for her. But it did little as she rode through the woods. The trees were spread out enough that no branches were slapping her in the face, unfortunately, for they could have kept her awake.

Her compass had worked tremendously, or she had hoped. For the past few days, the needle had been pointed due west. That was the problem with this compass. It didn't follow any roads or go from town to town but pointed the way directly to Azeria.

Meera yawned and stretched.

"Should we take a break?" Onyx asked.

"No, let's keep going for a bit longer," Meera said.

"What do you think happens if you fall asleep on my back?" The stallion asked. "Do I vanish in a poof, or somehow your Mana supply keeps me going?"

Meera's brain was solely focused on keeping her heavy eyelids open, let alone work on hypotheticals. "We might find out in a little bit. Let's find a good place for me to put my head down."

"How about that tree?" Onyx motioned with his head. "Or that one. That one to the left looked pretty good, too. I mean, take your pick."

Meera snorted and got off his back. "I like that one. I can still see the sky from there. We'll be able to watch out for any rats."

Onyx neighed. "Very funny."

Meera set up camp at the foot of this small tree. Setting up camp meant she pulled out her roll from her Hoard Belt, which was running out of space. She had tried to sell some weapons in the last two villages she had passed through, but by their admittance, they didn't have any money for her stuff. Ultimately, she gave it away in exchange for food and supplies. Not to mention the roll and a woolen blanket.

They had been riding all day. One great thing about Onyx was that he was leagues better than a real horse. He didn't eat nor tire and, best of all, did not smell. So, he could go on and on as long as Meera's Mana supported him. The only problem was that it was easy to forget that she needed to stop and rest her legs, at the very least. She feared she would be permanently walking bow-legged soon if she kept going as she had today.

"We must've covered a lot of ground today," Onyx said. "We can't be that far off."

"No, I sure hope not. We've been at it for over a week now." Meera got comfortable and pulled her woolen blanket up to her chin. "Good night, Onyx. I'll see you in the morning."

"Strange custom you humans have of wishing a good night when you're just going to sleep."

"Hmm…"

It didn't take Meera more than a minute to drift off to sleep.

----------------------------------------

Meera felt something pulling on her legs. "Stop it…Onyx."

"Hurry, she's waking up," said a man in a hushed whisper.

She frowned lightly at that and opened her eyes, only to find two men tying up her legs. She sat up quickly and moved for him to discover that they had tied her hands together. Focusing on her hands, she realized her chakrams were missing.

Something glinted off to the side. A woman was holding them up to the light of Mirithia. "Mirrors? Why was she wearing these circlets made of mirrors?"

"Keep them. Maybe we can get something by selling them," the big, burly man said, who was holding her legs together. "Check the belt."

Meera noticed her Hoard Belt was missing as well. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. If she wanted to, she could've ended the three of them within a blink of an eye. But her father had taught her that anger was a tool to be kept in check and only used at the most opportune moment. So, she played this rationally, surveyed the situation, and activated Mirror Eagle's Perceptivity.

Everything became sharp and crisp, and even in the dim light, she could almost see all the details of her surroundings. The group of assailants wore torn rags. There were two men—one big and burly but missing an arm and the other deathly skinny. Many scars peeked out from the holes in the skinny one's shirt. She had never seen the scars of someone being whipped, but she was sure that was what they were. The woman was dirty, sure, they all were, but Meera could tell she was pretty. She lacked any visible scars or amputations, but there was a big, black bruise on her right shoulder.

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She used Identify on them one by one. First was the burly man with one arm.

[Wrestler – Level 65]

Next was the skinny one.

[Cook – Level 28]

Lastly was the woman.

[Prostitute – Level 42]

Meera raised an eyebrow at this odd trio. She didn't fight as they secured her legs. The rags they had used had come from their filthy clothes, which must've been white at one point, but the white only peeked out in spots. The rest was a shade of black to brown.

"You three are an odd bunch, I must say," Meera stated calmly.

The wrestler turned to her. "Miss, we have no quarrel with you, but we must take your effects. I personally do not condone stealing, but we're desperate. If you raise no hell, we'll leave you alone, but if you decide to cause a stir, things will take a dire turn."

"I see. Did you use Identify on me before you did this?" Meera raised her tied hands.

The two men exchanged worried glances. Then both their eyes widened at once, and the woman gasped. The men backed away from her slowly.

"Now, miss…"

Meera activated Druvis Power and broke through her bonds like they were nonexistent. She looked at her chakrams, and they zipped back to her hands. All three cried out and jumped. Meera casually walked to the woman and held out a hand. She promptly returned the Hoard Belt and scurried away to the men. Meera affixed her belt to her armor, and this time, the armor absorbed the belt and only showed the pouches to protect her property against future mishappenings.

"Look, love, we're desperate," the woman said. "We meant no offense, and we were going to leave you be, honestly, but we're hungry, is all. Haven't had a bite to eat in two whole days."

"Please miss, if you can spare anything at all," the skinny cook said.

Meera reached into the belt, and they shirked away from her. "Relax." She pulled out some salted pork and moved to hand them a piece each. They all flinched as she took a step. "It's just pork."

The big man moved first and tentatively took the pork and handed it out to his friends. He took the first bite and nodded to the others before they chewed into their pieces.

"I have more." Meera pulled out more salted pork, apples, and fruits, laid them on her blanket, and stepped away.

The three fell on it ravenously. Meera sat with her back to the tree and let the poor people eat. They had clearly been through some tough things. It didn't take them long to finish the whole thing. Meera was not too worried, as she had a few more days' worth of food stored in her belt, and as it turned out, the Hoard Belt was the perfect fridge. Even better than perfect as food never went bad inside it.

"Now, do you mind telling me who you are?" Meera asked.

"I am Urvan," said the wrestler. "The skinny fellow is Tamas, and that is Leha. Thank you for the food."

"Yes, truly, thank you, love," Leha said as she tried to shove an entire apple in her mouth and failed.

"Come on, woman, take a bite, at least." Tamas, the cook, shook his head as he ate at a somewhat normal pace.

"Well, what is a wrestler, a cook, and a…"

"Whore," Leha said.

"I was going to say prostitute." Meera finished. "What are the three of you doing here? You're not criminals, are you?"

They stopped eating at once. The food stopped halfway to their mouths. They glanced at each other, and if Meera didn't know any better, she would have figured they were talking telepathically.

"So, anyone going to say anything," Meera said, looking between them.

Urvan coughed. "We are…King Rokibor's escaped slaves."

Meera raised an eyebrow.

"Let me explain." Urvan set his food down. "It's a little complicated."

"No, it's not," Leha interrupted. "We were regular folk going about our business. But then something crawled up his ass one day. Our only mistake was being close by when said something entered him."

"Shush, you foul-mouthed woman," Tamas, the cook, intervened. "His Majesty's hunters are everywhere."

"No matter how much you kiss his ass, he's still going to shit down your throat." Leha shot back.

That's a good one. I must remember that for next time.

"What happened?" Meera interjected before it got out of hand.

"In simple terms," Urvan said. "I lost a fight, so the king took my arm as punishment. He didn't like Tamas' soup, so Tamas went from being a chef of Rokibor's summer palace to, well, that sorry sight. Lastly, we have Leha—"

"You can imagine what I failed to do that he branded me a slave and tossed me in his dungeons," Leha said. "Still, it could've been worse. I could have landed in his brother's dungeon." She shivered. "Now, that is a true shithole if there—"

A blade sprouted from her neck. Blood seeped out in droves as Leha choked. Meera was up on her feet in a flash, chakram in hand. A breath later, a man covered in mists appeared behind Leha, pulling his blade out as Leha gurgled and fell, drowning in her own blood. She died a moment later. Meera didn't know her, but no one deserved to die like that. She didn't know what quarrel they had with this man, but it just rubbed Meera wrong.

Urvan and Tamas dropped their food. Tamas shrieked and crawled away. The mist warrior threw a throwing knife at him, but Meera deflected it with her chakram, earning the man's attention.

It was hard to see his features as he was covered in mists from head to toe. She wasn't sure if it was a skill or some form of magic, but it seeped from him. He wore armor that much Meera could tell and had a long sword strapped to his hip, but all of it was covered in mists.

[Warrior of Whispers – Level 153]

"You should not have come between us and our prey," the warrior whispered.