We make good time as we trek over the fields as the afternoon sun dissipates the clouds. We cross over some recently plowed ground but not much, we mostly find cattle pastures, empty of anyone else because today is still the Emperor's day for peasants.

The day's rest is enforced by the empire's law, we are taught that it is repayment for giving the due but my seventeen years give me enough cynicism that I think it more likely the Emperor wants as much flow in his due as possible and that the best way to ensure that is to straight up ban work, the goodwill it earns him with the peasantry is simply a welcome bonus.

James walks side by side with me with a practiced and regular pace despite his heavy chain mail and hard leather uniform under it. I grab both hems of my winter cloak and press them closer together, the sun might have shown up at last but the air remains cold.

“What do you know about the Countess?” I ask, focusing on the one upside to this whole thing.

“Ah, Lady Lance. The Lady Lance.” He chuckles. “What do you want to know?” He turns his head slightly with a raised eyebrow.

“She leads the squad?” I start with an innocuous question.

“She does, by virtue of title and experience.” He turns his eyes back to the terrain ahead. “She has been patrolling the Izla for a year now, a training mission assigned to her along with her title.” He pauses. “Countess Lance's lands consist of a few fishing villages and a large merchant dock used by grain barges for trade with the continent. The Duke took the countess under his wing and has been mentoring her in all matters, many think he will name her as heir.”

“Do you?” I ask.

“No, the Duke has taken many under his wing and he may still have children, he is in his forties and can afford to delay the matter of an heir still.” He shrugs. “Regardless, the rumor itself gives the countess weight among the nobility, I doubt my Lord Baron would have allowed the map to leave his dungeon otherwise.” He nods in the direction of the leather roll I am holding in my left hand. “For the matter of her experience, she repelled a pirate raid six months ago on Lord Patrick's lands, he has since joined her in her training mission.”

“You haven't spoken of her parents.” I point out.

“The count, her father, died in a shipwreck two years ago. Her mother is Exemplar and serves Meria's main temple.” He says with respect in his voice.

The Exemplar are quite literally composed solely of those so skilled in fulfilling their duties to the order that they are given the title in recognition of their dedication by their Templar brethren. I let go of a short breath, impressed despite myself, those found worthy of the title are a rarity in the Empire.

“What about the rest of the squad? Who are they?”

“Well, Lord Patrick himself is heir to his father, also a count, who couldn't be happier to see his son spread his wings. Lord Nicolas is heir to a Baron under Lord Patrick's father. The other two are officers in the Duke's retinue and are tasked to escort Lady Lance, they both hold minor landless titles but both their names escape me since we haven't been introduced.”

“And the last member?”

“Lady Yvonne, youngest child of a Baroness serves countess Lance as a bodyguard. She holds no personal titles and will inherit none but is very dear to her mother.” He makes a humorless chuckle. “Lady Yvonne is perhaps the most influential member of the squad as she has both her mother and Lady Lance's ear. It would be unwise to get on her bad side.”

“I'll do my best not to.” I shrug, trying to think back to yesterday and trying to place Yvonne in my memories, but I was a bit too focused on Lady Lance to remember anyone other than Patrick who came up to me.

“One piece of advice when dealing with nobility, care for your language. Nobles are very different in personality but there are a few commonalities that I've observed and it has taken me to my current post as a captain under my Lord Baron.”

“I'll take any advice I can get.”

“Its quite simple really, take care of your language. All nobles are instructed in etiquette from a very young age and while they only insist on it during ceremonies or when dealing with official matters, they will all insist on at least proper speech. Refrain from being too casual and do apologize if they seem to take offense, manners will give you a great deal of leeway.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Note to self, talking with a broom up my ass may work. “Not sure how much success I'll have.”

“You'll be fine, the Lady Lance has seen the world this past year, be more careful when in Lord Patrick's presence.”

“Yeah, I've noticed already, he doesn't think much of us peasants does he.”

“Varied personalities. Lord Nicolas is quite impatient and he dislikes both conflict and dealing with people below his station. Lady Yvonne is mostly uninterested in anything beyond her sword and the countess. The Duke's two envoys are professional soldiers, they were both officers before joining the countess' squad, they will obey her first and Patrick second.”

I spot a patch of burnt land next to a large rock situated between two corn fields. I take a pause and readjust the backpack.

“Is that it?” I ask.

“It is, the tunnel was hidden between the rock and a large thorn-hedge, you can see the result of Lord Patrick's fire flow construct. Let us make time.”

He goes on ahead while I follow, a bit apprehensive about going underground, I may have worked the earth most of my life but I've never gone under it. Going to the temple doesn't really count, does it? I mean, the walls don't have to be made of stone for them to be stable, do they?

“Just, hum, quick question.” The pitch of my voice involuntarily perks up.

“Yes?” He asks.

“What do you know about tunnels?”

“Ah. That's … don't hit them?” He ends with an apologetic look.

“…” I take a deep breath but decide halfway through to just let it go, letting the air leave my mouth in a long sigh. “…”

We arrive in front of the tunnel and face a downwards slope going under the large rock, an arch of wood beams is set right at the edge of the stone, providing a stable entrance … with an easy way to collapse it. Great, whoever made this tunnel made sure they could also destroy it and of course I'm the one tasked with going inside, this day is actually getting better!

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“I guess this is goodbye then.” I say, still staring at the darkness in front of me.

“Don't drink too much, you don't know when you'll find another source.” He takes his flask of water from his belt and hands it to me. “Fulfill your duty well.”

“Thanks.” Pff, what duty?

I scoff a bit, concealing it as put the backpack on the ground and take a torch resting in a leather ring at its side, I place the flask inside the same leather ring and secure it with one of the free strings. By the time I light the torch, James is already nothing but a distant sound making its way back across the cornfield. I pick up and life the backpack on my shoulders, taking the leather roll with my left hand while making sure it remains a very safe distance from the torch.

I lift the torch up to eye level, the earth on both sides and on the ground of the tunnel is compact. It actually doesn't look like something that was dug out, the surface of the walls doesn't look friable, how did they dig this? I throw a look outside, looking around to see if I can find a mound of discarded earth but there is nothing but two corn fields separates by a hedge that was hiding the tunnel. Unless the family who takes care of the land dug this, then they would have noticed and alerted someone if random amounts of discarded earth started appearing in their fields.

I turn back to the tunnel, glaring at the compact walls. Did they make the tunnel by pushing and compressing the earth on each side? That would take a ridiculous amount of strength. I take a dozen steps inside the tunnel and observe that the surface remains relatively smooth all the way except for a small line making a vertical ribbing pattern every few meters across the walls and ceiling.

I assume the same pattern was present on the ground too but was eroded away by those using the tunnel. Did a giant worm dig this? What the fuck? But no, worms that big don't exist … right? And this isn't how the tiny earthworms I know behave, they eat the ground as they advance, they don't leave such clean tunnels behind. A creature big enough to do this would never find enough food underground, I mean a fucking horse eats its own weight every month and a half or so.

I nervously keep making my way forward, keeping an eye around me and tapping the walls every so often to verify that they remain as stable as always, after about an hour I notice that there have been no other wooden beam supports along the way apart from that first one at the entrance, but that one was probably more of a collapsing mechanism than a support one.

The tunnel's slope remains constant throughout and there are no turns, the way remains mostly straight except a few occasions where the walls make an arc around some obstacle invisible to me. After six hours of walking, I take a break, wondering how deep this tunnel goes.

As I drink from James' flask and my breath slows down some, the thumping of my hearts clears out of my ears and some indistinct sounds reach me from further down the tunnel. I prick up my ears to catch as much as I can, a clear sound of metal clinking against metal reaches me. I almost yell to announce my presence, but stop myself before it reaches my mouth.

What if this isn't Lady Lance's squad? What if something else hears me yell? What if someone else hears it? No, let's keep going like this, I'll see the light of their torches soon enough and get a good look from a distance before I announce myself. Or run away, very, very fast.

Thankfully, after another ten minutes of advancing and a few arcs of the tunnel, a half-dozen familiar figures appear, lit by firelight. They remain too far to individually identify but their rich leather armor and decorated swords are very recognizable.

The squad is sitting in a circle around a campfire and the three sitting with their backs to me soon turn my way. Oh right, torchlight goes both ways, they could see me at the same time I could see them. Good thing those are the people I'm looking for, I was a bit careless there.

The nobles don't seem surprised to see me there, they probably stopped to wait for the map after all. I accelerate my steps, better not to keep them waiting now that they see me. They soon get up as I near them and each pick up a piece of the campfire that I now see is made of all of their torches combined with the end burning flow at the center. That's clever.

As I enter the circle of light made by their torches, my eyes immediately zero in on Lady Lance. She tied her black hair behind her head, but what takes my attention this time is the fact that I am close enough to see the light gray color of her eyes.

I see, or I manage to convince myself that I see, a glimmer of recognition in the way she looks at me. She lifts her hand and rubs the bridge of her nose, not quite hiding the bright smile she is making. She takes a step forward ahead of the squad, saying something but I remain there, stunned and staring even as I realize it myself. Her hand makes a fist that covers her mouth as she fakes a small cough, shaking me out of my reverie. I absent-mindedly notice the small exasperated groan coming from one of the nobles behind her.

“Lady Lance greeted you, peasant!” Lord Patrick snaps.

“Oh, I apologize my Lady.” I hurriedly make a small bow, feeling ridiculous. “My name is Jessica, I've been tasked by my Lord Baron to deliver this map to you.” I reach onto the flow tied to my torch and extinguish it before throwing it aside and delicately taking the leather roll in both hands, presenting it to Lady Lance with both hands in front of me.

“Ah, so Lord Buton has agreed to my first request. As for the second one …” The question remains implicit as she raises her gray eyes back up from the map to me.

“I … volunteered my knowledge of the region and its terrain.” The side of my mouth twitches in annoyance at the memory.

“Pff, what knowledge of geography could a peasant possibly possess.” Patrick almost spits the words, clearly displeased at having to associate with me.

He takes a few steps forward, looming over me as he extends his hand towards the leather roll. His height combined with his swift movement startles me and I lose the chance to prevent him from laying a hand on the leather roll. I reaffirm my grip on the roll, easily preventing him from taking it away from me.

“I'm sorry my Lord, but Lord Buton was quite adamant in his wording, the Lady Lance is to be the one I deliver the roll to.” I hurriedly explain myself, almost fumbling my words several times.

The venomous glare that Patrick shoots at me is enough to make me take a step back, he luckily decides to let go of the leather roll and not push the issue as Lady Lance comes forward to take the map off my hands, performing a quick flow construct over the wax seal with her left hand. However, she doesn't break the seal and simply slides the roll inside her pack.

“Nicolas you take the middle, continue keeping count of the distance and direction we've traveled, we will stop tonight and determine our position. Patrick, you're in front of Nicolas. Yvonne, you take point. Gerald and Clement, you're on rearguard.” She gives her orders over her own shoulder, in a practiced clear and concise manner, almost casual. “You, young Lady, will walk between me and Nicolas, it is the safest position for a non-combatant. If we encounter armed opposition simply duck and hug one of the walls, alright?” She ends with a smile and a wink.

I splutter something unintelligible that she apparently takes for agreement, turning around while I pick up my extinguished torch and slide it back in a free leather ring on the backpack. The squad organizes itself swiftly and in silence, their good teamwork apparent through their practiced motions.

As we make way through the tunnel in a single file column, leaving a whole meter of space on each side as we take the center, the walk's boredom does find a way to set in despite the thrill of the whole situation, my thoughts end up wandering and I notice something that disturbs me slightly : of everyone here, I am the shortest here by at least full head.

Every single one of them has a good thirty centimeters on me. Bullshit, I'm not that small. I was always of average to tall height compared to the other kids in the village and that hasn't changed when I became an adult. The Baron is the only one I've ever met that clears … oh. Right. Nobility means money, money means food and food means growth.

I look down at my chest between the opening of my cloak. I used to consider myself average there too … Sadly, as much as I would love to and I really, really would love to, I can't really compare myself to the Lady considering her leather armor is about as constraining as the band of cloth I use as a bra would be, not that I have it on right now since this is still a rest day.

Ha! My thoughts managed to circle all the way back to Lady Lance's chest out of nowhere, looks like I can't really fault the others for being obsessed anymore. I let a long silent sigh escape me. Oh well, no regrets there. The smile on my face lasts me a while, fending off the walk's boredom for a longer time than it ought to.

The column makes its way through the tunnel for long enough that I start expecting us to stop. I start paying attention to Lord Nicolas' movements after a time, seeing him take notes in a notepad every so often and always when the tunnel arcs slightly. He also throws regular glances at an instrument on his wrist, something with a needle, an expensive glass cover, and numbers, inscribed using flow, that slowly change as we advance.

Half an hour of marching does finally take us to a branch in the tunnel as the way forward splits in two. Lady Lance orders us to stop and make camp for the night, my backpack is the first thing that hits the ground when the words hit me, the damn thing turned my shoulders stiff.