As Yonatan’s squad and the marshals drew closer together, Ardan became increasingly aware of how much his life had turned upside down. The strange horse walking beside him and the belongings of someone he had only recently conversed with, though not in the most pleasant of ways, served as a stark reminder of his new reality.

The sky overhead, obeying nature’s will as it reclaimed its power and dismissed the storm’s remnant that the Speaker had managed to find in the azure expanses, gradually cleared. No, Ardan still did not possess the power of an Aean’Hane, nor did he know any True Names, and if not for his years of practice with Star Magic, perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to do what he’d done so recently. Certainly not without lengthy preparation, which could’ve taken hours. It was one thing to know how to hear the echo of a storm’s name and summon icy lightning, and quite another to actually do it.

So, he was experiencing a confusing mix of pride in himself, excitement for all the possible new discoveries, sadness at his acceptance that he was leaving his homeland, nostalgia for his mother, brother, and… even the sheriff and Kena, but also…

Ardi glanced at Gleb’s horse, the staff tied to the saddle, and the mage’s belongings.

“Yonatan Kornosskiy,” the voice of the squad leader pulled Ardi from the labyrinth of these new thoughts and sensations. “My identification and credentials.”

Yonatan unfastened the lock of a travel bag hanging from his saddle and pulled out a passport-like document, along with a leather folder embroidered with the empire’s emblem in scarlet thread.

He handed all of this to the marshal who had ridden up to him. The marshal was mounted on a solid black steed — at least according to Ardan’s judgement of such things after spending almost five years working on a farm — clad in a gray traveling cloak, with two carbines on his saddle and wearing a belt adorned with revolvers around his waist. The man lightly touched the brim of his hat with two fingers, indicating a greeting.

Removing his gloves, he took the documents, nodding to one of his three companions. All four riders wore identical uniforms: gray cloaks, wide-brimmed hats slightly smaller than Cassara’s, and emblems on their chest that were in the shape of crossed swords and revolvers.

“Marshal Tevona Elliny,” the young woman, who was surely no more than twenty years old, introduced herself, handing Yonatan four documents and an almost identical folder with their own emblem on it in return.

The paperwork check dragged on for a good ten minutes. From Kelly’s stories, Ardan had learned that forgery of documents was quite common in the Empire, and it seemed the government was planning to do something about it.

“Everything seems to be in order,” Yonatan and another marshal, whose name Ardi didn’t know, said almost in unison.

Moreover, Ardan noted that Yonatan had handed over only his identification for inspection, while the marshals had handed over all four sets of their documents.

“And what has the valiant Second Chancery,” the marshal drawled with evident mockery, “forgotten in our backwater? I don’t recall seeing you here since the persecutions of the highlanders.”

At these words, Ardi’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t show it… or he hoped he didn’t, at least.

“What concerns me more, Marshal Andrew Kal’dron,” Yonatan straightened in the saddle and looked past the marshals and down the hill. “Is why are there two dozen carriages full of northern settlers in your company instead of the originally stated four?”

Ardan exhaled with relief.

He had been a bit worried about the fact that no one seemed to be paying attention to the gathering of carriages and wagons at the foot of the hill. The latter — small but sturdily built and covered with strong, worn cloth — were drawn by solitary mares, while the former looked like barns lying on their sides that had been placed on wheels. They were basically huge, wooden boxes with holes for windows, draped with bundles of various goods, and they each had a few men sitting on the coach box with carbines at their feet and reins in hand. Each of these was drawn by two to six horses, which were now calmly grazing on the grass.

Ardi had heard about northern settlers before. Each season, they crossed the Alcade Mountains through the Parting Gorge — so named because it was where two rivers originated, with one flowing north and emptying into the bay of the Phregian Sea on the territory of the Armondo Tribes, and the other going south.

And this path was often fraught with many dangers, which was why the Monarchy was laying a railroad through the mountains.

“We were hired as guides,” Marshal Kal’dron shrugged nonchalantly, casually twisting the ends of his well-groomed, graying mustache. “It’s not prohibited by law.”

“But we can’t be guides for more than two dozen families,” grumbled Katerina, who was standing a bit farther from Ardi.

“We’re taking them to the junction in Presny,” added the marshal. “I assume you’re headed there as well.”

Yonatan’s eyes gleamed, adding weight to the tension hanging over the riders.

“Considering we sent you an escort request letter in advance, your assumption is correct,” Yonatan hissed. “Fine, we-”

“Where’s your mage?” Tevona suddenly spoke up.

Despite being the youngest of the marshals, she looked no less… imposing. She had a weathered face, skin sunburned under the far from gentle rays of the prairie sun, her pants were worn and her revolver grips were bleached from use, clearly indicating that she’d drawn them often.

“What do you mean, Miss-”

“Not a Miss,” she interrupted Yonatan. “I’m Sergeant Tevona Elliny, from the Marshal Corps of the Foothill Province. You could have read that in my documents, not to mention the fact that I introduced myself initially.”

The tension only increased, and out of the corner of his eye, Ardi noticed that some of Yonatan’s subordinates were pushing back their leather cloaks, revealing their revolvers. The marshals did the same, seemingly unconcerned about the numerical disparity.

“Calm down, everyone,” Yonatan raised his hands, a peculiar mask consisting of smiling lips and a heavy, frowning gaze stuck on his face. “Our mage, unfortunately, remains forever among the peaks of the Alcade.”

The marshals exchanged glances.

“Only a complete idiot-”

“Tevona!” Marshal Kal’dron cut her off with a steely tone, then turned to Yonatan. “May the Eternal Angels receive him,” he removed his hat and slightly bowed his head before replacing the hat and scanning their squad, his gaze lingering on Ardi for a moment. “And this big fellow, is he the valuable cargo we are obliged to assist you with?”

“Possibly,” Yonatan replied calmly.

Andrew stared at him for a moment, but achieved no effect.

“I see he has a mage’s staff.”

“Your eyesight does you credit, Marshal.”

Tevona was about to speak up in outrage, but Andrew’s hand gesture stopped her.

“Let’s not beat around the bush, Yonatan,” the man shook his head. “You’re escorting someone who is clearly not entirely human — and I have a keen eye for non-humans — as well as an unregistered mage on top of that. And even if you were the head of the Second Chancery, I still wouldn’t allow you to break the laws of our country so blatantly and casually.”

For a moment, silence fell over the hill. It was heavy, dense, bringing with it a clear taste of copper on the lips and the smell of burnt gunpowder.

Everyone sat on edge, not taking their eyes off the hands and revolvers of their potential opponents.

“Does it trouble you, Marshal, that we have a mixed-blood with us, or is it the fact that he’s an unregistered mage?” Yonatan finally asked.

Andrew glanced at Cassara, who had remained completely indifferent to the situation this entire time.

“If I were concerned with that first point, I’d have sooner pointed out the vampire, who I can see is not wearing a state-issued muzzle.”

“Once again, your eyesight does not fail you,” Yonatan smirked, spreading his arms wide and smiling broadly. “What a coincidence, Marshal. It’s remarkable how the ways of the Face of Light are sometimes inscrutable. You see, we indeed have an unregistered mage temporarily fulfilling the role of our group’s mage, which means he is in the service of the Second Chancery. And, therefore, you cannot arrest him.”

“ This is rubbish!” Tevona shouted. “Why are we even listening to-”

And again, the wave of a hand silenced the fiery young woman.

“Thank you,” Yonatan said, continuing. “And not only can you not arrest him, but according to the very law you so zealously guard, the Marshal Corps must provide every possible assistance to the Second Chancery. And if I remember the general law course I took correctly, marshals have the authority to administer oaths. So, all that remains is for the lad here to take his oath to the crown right now, and we will continue our journey together with calm and clear heads.”

Andrew and Yonatan stared each other down for a while.

“We don’t have star epaulettes with us,” the marshal reminded him.

“Mages of the Second Chancery, by special order, are exempted from wearing their typical insignia during the period of that same special order. I am the authority. I have ordered it.”

Andrew hissed a barely audible curse before nodding to Tevona.

“But this is-”

“Do you want a shootout?” The man hissed through clenched teeth so that only the girl could hear him. “With the Cloaks? And a vampire, for the Face of Light’s sake! Are you out of your mind, girl?”

And perhaps ordinary people wouldn’t have heard this, but Cassara and, surprisingly enough, Yonatan, only smiled bloodthirstily. While it was clear why the vampire might do so, Ardi couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the squad leader. He looked like a man, smelled like a man, but clearly possessed some not entirely human abilities.

As for the part about “Cloaks,” that was the nickname for the employees of the Second Chancery in the Empire.

“Swear him in and let’s be done with this,” Andrew grumbled. “The sooner we get rid of these bastards, the sooner I can drink in some saloon and try to forget the month ahead that we’ll spend in their company.”

Sergeant Elliny’s face turned red from barely-contained fury, but she still pulled a small book from her saddlebag. It was unmistakably the sacred scripture of the Face of Light.

She tugged on her reins and, ignoring the glances of everyone around her, rode up to Ardi. Only now did he fully appreciate how small and fragile this girl was. She was just over 160 centimeters tall and no heavier than 45 kilograms, yet she had such a strong resolve in her gaze that one couldn’t help but feel genuine respect for her.

“State your full name,” she ordered strictly.

Ardi sighed wearily. Fortunately, it wasn’t just Yonatan who remembered the general law course well.

“As a representative of the native mountain people of the Alcade, I will remind you of my right, according to the article of the constitution-”

“Yes, yes,” Tevona said dismissively. “I know the laws, mage. You can proceed according to your people’s traditions. It doesn’t matter to me... State your name.”

“Ard Egobar, son of Hector Egobar.”

“Alright, Ard Egobar, place your right hand on the book and repeat after me.”

Ardi raised an eyebrow slightly.

For a moment, he wrestled with the temptation to say nothing and take the oath on an object that held no sacred meaning for him, but... He knew the oath’s contents. It had little to do with the crown, and a lot more with the country and the people, humans and Firstborn alike, who inhabited it. In any case, it was an oath that any mage had to swear in the presence of witnesses, or else be declared outside the law. Moreover, it held no actual power. Just an old custom from the times of Ectassus and Gales. And so, Ardan intended to act with conscience. Ergar (at the end of the day, it's also about serving to Firstborn) would not have approved of anything else, and perhaps not even his father would have. After all, Hector had shed blood and given his life for the people of the Empire.

“With all due respect, Sergeant, while I can do this, of course,” Ardan began sincerely. He held no ill feelings toward the girl in particular, or the marshals in general. “But your book holds no meaning to me, and the oath will not carry the-”

“Angels and demons!” Tevona exclaimed, trying to shove the book back into her bag.

Her nerves caused her to fumble, nearly dropping the sacred scripture of humanity to the ground. Ardi reacted quickly, catching the book in time and calmly handing it back to the marshal.

She looked at Ardi, squinting at him in surprise.

“Why?” She asked simply.

“Isn’t it said in your religion that it’s an insult to God to soil and damage his sacred scriptures?” Ardan replied evenly. “I just wanted to help.”

And somehow, the tension on the hill suddenly lessened.

“I don’t know the customs of the Alcade highlanders,” Tevona shook her head. “Do you have something sacred with you or-”

“You stand on our land, Sergeant,” Ardan replied calmly. “These foothills are still the territory of my people. Our land is sacred to us.”

Perhaps Ardi had been too hasty in saying that the tension had slightly eased, for after those last words, it skyrocketed nearly to the heavens. Only now, instead of being directed from the marshals to the Cloaks and back, it was all focused on Ardi.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Yonatan grumbled, “before we all say something... we shouldn’t.”

Andrew nodded in agreement.

Tevona frowned again.

“I need from you, mage, some kind of ritual, symbol, or sign that you’re speaking the words before the face of your religion.”

“And the oath itself isn’t enough?” Ardan asked, still absolutely sincere, but he had to sate his curiosity. “I thought that-”

“Boy,” he nearly fell from his saddle when he heard Cassara speak in the language of the Fae. “Stop being so naive... Marshals don’t have a lot of patience.”

Ardan cleared his throat, then skillfully leaned out of his saddle, scooped up a handful of earth, and then pulled out a knife, cutting himself through that handful. He felt a brief flash of pain, and then thick, red drops fell to the ground.

“Is this enough?” He asked calmly.

“If that’s what your traditions demand, then yes,” Tevona agreed. “Now, repeat the mage’s oath after me. I, Ard Egobar, as a citizen of the Empire of the New Monarchy, pledge allegiance to the Crown and vow to serve the welfare of the homeland and all its peoples. I swear that the interests of the nation will stand above my own. I swear that I will not disgrace the honor of my regalia. I swear that there will be no lord above me but my heart and my honor.”

Ardan spoke the required words, then leaned out of the saddle again and wiped his hand on the grass. The cut on his palm had almost completely healed. The tension once again eased, and this time, it almost disappeared altogether.

“Where did you learn that?” Tevona suddenly asked.

“I worked on a farm for the past few years. There’s not much time for getting off and on a horse.”

“On a human farm?” The sergeant was surprised.

“Where else?” Ardi was surprised in turn.

At this question, the girl’s eyebrows seemed to rise to the middle of her forehead.

“How old are you?” Tevona asked, the sudden realization clear in her tone.

“Seventeen.”

Both Andrew and the others heard this, causing a new wave of curses.

“For the Face of Light’s sake, Cloak!” The marshal practically howled. “Why didn’t you tell us you were escorting someone who’s nearly a boy! We almost shot each other over this!”

“I spent a month holed up in the mountains,” Yonatan shrugged. “I wanted to have a little fun.”

In response to this, the other Cloaks just laughed, provoking another wave of curses from the marshals.

And it seemed like everyone had understood something, while only Ardi turned to Tevona in confusion.

“What’s happening?”

“I’ll explain later,” the sergeant growled, drilling Yonatan’s back with a dark look.

She didn’t even smell of anger, but of pure hatred. The kind that usually isn’t felt without some personal history. But in the sergeant’s case, the hatred was directed not at Yonatan himself, but at his black leather cloak.

“Let’s go,” Marshal Kal’dron waved his hand. “I’ll introduce you to the head of the settlers. He’s a sensible guy. A former soldier, even. Though, who among us hasn’t fought...”

Now accompanied by the marshals, they began to descend the hill. During this time, Tevona managed to explain to Ardi what had happened. By law, citizens of the Empire of the New Monarchy had complete freedom of movement within their country. Moving from province to province did not require any additional documents except for identification. That was how it should’ve been, at least.

In reality, this law only applied to humans, while representatives of the Firstborn races and half-bloods (or, as they were sometimes called, “mixes”) required special escort documents. And while this had long since become an often-overlooked formality in the north of the country, the closer you got to the south and directly to the capital, the more seriously they took the “interim registration of Firstborn race representatives.”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

That was how lofty and official it all was.

And the crux of the matter was that the marshals indeed had a keen eye. And they’d come across a not exactly fully-equipped group of Second Chancery representatives. And it would’ve been one thing if they had simply lost their mage along the way — why would that concern the marshals? No, they had also been escorting someone clearly not entirely human… At this point of the explanation, Ardi raised an eyebrow slightly, and Tevona, as if they were in a class, immediately pointed out the external signs that easily distinguished him from a human, from his amber eyes to his slightly protruding upper lip that concealed his fangs. Ardi even wanted to ask for a mirror — he had never noticed anything like that about himself. Either way, the fact that he’d seemed like a non-human mage, but without even the proper regalia, had been the big issue. However, his youth had clearly reassured them, at least partially.

Given the marshals’ duties to maintain order on the plains, protect trade routes, and catch fugitive criminals, it wasn’t hard to guess the tension Yonatan had caused with his reluctance to cooperate and reveal his cards.

Ardan nodded silently, gradually realizing that he wasn’t the only one who’d set off on a journey from his native province. Erti was a half-blood too.

He shared these concerns with the marshal, who quickly reassured him that Sheriff Brian had more than enough authority to prepare and sign the necessary papers in advance.

But why hadn’t he done that for Ardi?

Ard looked at Yonatan’s back as he was riding ahead of them and casually discussing something with Andrew, who wasn’t particularly pleased with the conversation by the looks of it.

“I can’t answer that question for you,” Sergeant Elliny concluded.

By this point, they had approached the wagon at the forefront of the caravan. Up close, it looked even larger and more spacious than it had from up on the hill. It could easily accommodate an entire family, and the seat, which cowboys called the “shotgun,” had enough space for three adult men.

Right now, however, only one person was sitting there. A stocky, burly man with a typical northerner’s wide jaw and thick eyebrows. He even spoke with the same accent as the few northern settlers who had passed through Evergale, and whom Ardi had seen maybe two or three times in the past five years.

“Ertas Govlov,” he introduced himself, tipping his patched hat at them.

“Yonatan,” the head of the Cloaks replied shortly.

They didn’t shake hands, just exchanged brief greetings.

“We can end this break now,” Andrew said and was about to tug his horse to the side when his gaze landed on Ardi. The marshal seemed to remember something and turned back to Ertas. “That young girl. The one with that name… what was it…”

“Tavskiy’s daughter?”

“That’s it. Tavskiy!” The marshal snapped his fingers. “You can never remember it... How is she?”

“Worse,” the settler replied curtly and gloomily, causing his eyebrows to look even more like a tuft of sheep’s wool. “Today, she didn’t even wake up.”

“I see…” Andrew muttered and turned to Yonatan. “Since you have a mage with you, maybe he could take a look?”

“At a young girl?” The Cloak smirked. “I don’t think the girl’s parents would be too pleased with that. But, I suppose-”

“She’s fallen ill,” Andrew said firmly, heading off the fuming Ertas. “She's been like this for three days now. And getting worse by the hour. She might not make it.”

“Usually, up to a third of those seeking a better life die during resettlement,” Yonatan shrugged indifferently, without a trace of emotion. “She wouldn’t be the first or the last. And our mage is a rare commodity. So, I-”

“I’ll take a look,” Ardi stepped forward, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

Even Cassara, who had been quietly riding behind Ardan and Tevona this entire time, muttered something and checked the straps on her saber and revolvers.

“Kid, you-” Yonatan began to hiss.

“I just swore an oath,” Ardi declared abruptly. “To serve the Empire and all its peoples. What are human oaths worth if their term is less than an hour?”

Yonatan cursed, while Ertas looked at this huge man who had a boy’s face as if… as if he were some kind of curiosity.

The Cloak turned his horse and rode closer to Ardi, hissing almost into his ear:

“Are you trying to mock me, little beast?”

“No,” Ardi replied sincerely and somewhat confusedly, then thought for a moment and added, “Well, maybe a little, but I only realized that after you asked me about it. But really, if I can help a child, I will.”

For a moment, they stared each other down, after which Yonatan waved his hands and folded them on his saddle horn.

“Who am I to deny the great mages their desires,” he stated with obvious sarcasm. “Go, heal her while we sit here. We’ll occupy ourselves with our mortal and very uninteresting affairs.”

And with a subtle finger movement, he signaled something. The gesture seemed intended for Cassara because, along with Ardi and Andrew, the vampire also headed into the depths of the wagon cluster.

She was probably there to catch the mage in case something happened and he decided to run. But he had no intention of fleeing. No, his soul longed for and pulled him toward the railroad leading to Delpas, where his family was being taken, but… But Cassara had been right.

If he truly had the means to hide from the Second Chancery, he wouldn’t have been one of the last two representatives of his race. And only a half-blood, at that.

No, for now, he could do nothing about the invisible leash around his neck. But only for now.

It was as Ergar had taught him: “Always prepare before the hunt, gather information, learn all about your target, identify all possible escape routes and ways of attack, and only then strike. For a good hunter, one strike is more than enough.”

Ardi needed time…

And then he remembered his brother’s poor health and all the benefits the crown had given the Brian-Egobar family in exchange for their cooperation.

These thoughts swirled in his head as they rode through the resting caravan. People in clothes not quite suited for long journeys were clumsily setting up campfires and just as clumsily trying to cook something on them. Their faces, both the men’s and women’s alike, bore the marks of sleepless nights full of worry, making them look, despite mostly being in their thirties, as if they were forty-five or even older still.

Few of the settlers seemed particularly happy about the situation. The Alcade mountains were rarely crossed without a pressing need, with most preferring to use the railroad that bypassed the mountain range.

And if the adults, clearly exhausted and worn out from their long journey, were making sure to avoid looking in the direction of these unfamiliar riders, the children made up for it.

They darted around the camp, inventing incredible games. Without fear, they would run up to Cassara’s unusual horse, peek under her hat, laugh, shout something, then run away again. They buzzed around them like swallows near a slope.

Ardi smiled at them, careful not to show his fangs.

He loved children.

They never seemed to fear him.

“We’re here,” Andrew said when they arrived at a wagon standing somewhat apart from the rest.

It was a sort of large cart with high arches stretching from side to side, covered with sturdy, white cloth.

And even if Andrew hadn’t spoken, Ardan would have guessed they were in the right place.

The air here had a sour, unpleasant smell to it. The kind that shouldn’t have been there.

Ardi dismounted and patted his horse on the neck.

“Stay here until I return,” he whispered to it in the language of beasts.

Cassara also dismounted.

“I’ll stay here,” she threw out over her shoulder, then turned her back to the wagon and faced the caravan.

“Come on,” Andrew urged, pulling him along.

They approached the wagon, next to which a not-so-young ginger mare peacefully grazed. Standing by the ladder leading inside, Andrew sighed heavily, reached for his hat, then stood at attention, and finally, after some hesitation, removed his headgear.

It was clear that he wasn’t pleased with the situation.

“Anton!” He called out loudly.

There was a rustle inside the wagon, and soon, the curtain was pulled aside, revealing a man in his fifties. His bald head shone with sweat, he had a hawk-like nose, gray bags under his eyes, and a worn, gray carbine was shaking in his hands.

“I won’t let you in, Kal’dron!” He raised the rifle and pointed the barrel at the marshal’s chest. “She will wake up! It’s not a disease, it’s just-”

“Everything’s alright, Anton,” the marshal stood half-turned toward the worried father, showing him his raised left hand, while his right remained hidden by his cloak’s folds. Ardi, standing behind him, could clearly see that the marshal’s fingers were hovering near his revolver’s grip. “We were waiting for the Cloaks. They have a mage with them. Here, I brought him with me. His name is Ard. He’ll take a look at your daughter.”

For a moment, hope flickered in the man’s eyes, but as soon as he looked at Ardi, it was quickly replaced by suspicion.

“A mage? Then where’s his cloak and epaulettes?” The rifle, which had recently been lowered to the ground, was now aimed at the marshal’s chest again. “Trying to deceive me, are you?”

“No,” Andrew shook his head. “Listen, Anton. Think about it. I’m already in debt to the Cloaks for asking for their help. If you don’t need it, I’d be glad to-”

“No, no, no,” Anton immediately began to mutter. “I’m sorry, I… it’s just… She’s all I have … Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Andrew sighed, and judging by his tone, he genuinely did. “Will you let us in?”

The man hesitated for a moment longer, but finally lowered his carbine and drew back the curtain.

“Come in.”

“Go on, big guy,” the marshal urged, putting his hat back on. “We can’t all fit in there. I’ll stay out here. Nearby. If anything, you… Well, you get it.”

Ardi, to be honest, didn’t get anything. Why was Anton so afraid of the marshal, why did he need that rifle, and overall… No, he would probably have to question Tevona again later.

Climbing the makeshift stairs, Ardan entered the wagon, where, on neatly stacked bales, amidst nondescript chests and even a shabby cabinet, a girl lay on a thickly-stuffed mattress, covered by a blanket.

By Matabar standards, she was practically an adult since she had been able to bear children for more than a year. But by human standards, she was still just a girl, not yet having reached adulthood.

Next to her, holding a small wooden tray with some vials on it, sat another man. He was much younger than Anton, about thirty-two to thirty-five years old. And judging by his blond hair, blue eyes, fine features, and his nose with a slight bump, he couldn’t possibly be related to these northerners.

“Mart Borskov,” he introduced himself briefly. “Doctor.”

Ardi nodded and, finding no place to put his staff, simply laid it down beside him.

“Do you need anything?” Anton asked from behind. “Any… I don’t know… This… Well… I…”

“Nothing,” Ardi reassured him. “Except maybe some light. It’s dark in here. The sickness likes the dark and fears the light.”

Anton nodded and began to gradually pull away the fabric fastened to hooks attached to the wagon’s sides.

Soon, the first rays of sunlight penetrated the wagon, and Ardi, finding a free spot, which wasn’t easy considering that the four of them took up almost all the available space, sat down next to the girl.

She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in jerky motions. Her face was unnaturally pale, with red, burning cheeks. Her hair, matted with sweat, lay behind her, and she barely had the strength to hold her head up — it had fallen to the side, almost touching her chin to her shoulder.

“I think it might be some kind of virus she picked up in the mountains and-”

Ardi didn’t listen to the doctor. He leaned over the girl and pressed his ear to her chest.

Her heart was beating softly, oh so softly. Almost inaudibly. And every now and then, it stumbled in its far-from-measured steps.

Ardan lifted his head and brought his nose to the girl’s lips, then gently pressed on her stomach. She rasped in pain and moaned softly.

Anton made a move toward his daughter, but the doctor, who had stepped aside to make room for the wizard, stopped him.

Ardan sniffed the air. It smelled of earth and grass, and also…

He turned to the girl’s father.

“How long has she been unwell?”

“Three days…”

“No,” Ardi shook his head. “How long ago did it start? The fatigue. The irritability. The loss of appetite.”

“That… how to put it…” Anton scratched his head. “Erda began to complain about a week ago, but I thought she was just tired from the mountain crossing and-”

Ardi didn’t wait to hear the rest. He needed to find out the most crucial thing.

“Did you stop to rest near streams or rivers where bushes with blue leaves grow?”

“Yes, we even wanted to pick some, but the marshals said not to. Said they were poisonous. Do you think that’s what got her?”

“No,” Ardan shook his head. “If she had eaten the leaves of the Dawn Shakhash, you would have buried her six days ago.”

Ardan gently touched Erda’s cheek with his fingertips and began to breathe more evenly. As Skusty had taught him, he let his gaze become unfocused and opened his mind to what couldn’t be seen if one looked directly at it. He was trying to see what the world revealed only when the observer looked away.

A moment passed, then another, and suddenly, shadows began to swirl around the girl, as if acrid smoke was rising from the ground toward her hair, tangling in it, and then gradually wrapping around her body. Black strands tightened around her chest, pressed down on her waist, and tried to sink into her thighs and move lower still.

But this was just an illusion. A deception.

Ardi, with an effort of will, brushed aside the false visions and something else was revealed to him.

The black smoke wasn’t holding the girl captive. On the contrary, it was emanating from her. From her skin, her hair. It was becoming an extension of her just as it would become an extension of the flames dancing over burning logs.

image [https://i.imgur.com/7dtJQpZ.png]

Erda seemed to be holding a fire inside of her, burning alive and suffocating in the smoke of her own flesh, and along with her, Ardan began to suffocate as well.

He started choking and quickly moved away from her, forcing the world to return to its familiar state.

Breathing heavily, he involuntarily grasped the amulet shaped like an oak, as if trying to find strength in it. For the first time, he had used Skusty’s teachings to look at something with a hostile nature, rather than just the surrounding world.

“Did you examine her?” He asked the doctor.

“Yes,” Mart nodded. “Although, I don’t have a nurse with me right now, so the women here did the examining, but I stood behind the screen and guided them. They didn’t find anything that could-”

“Behind the screen?” Ardi asked in surprise, turning to Anton. “We need to undress her.”

The wagon fell silent, then Anton nodded and began to head for the exit.

“Where are you going?” Ardi stopped him.

“I’ll ask the neighbor’s wife and daughter to-”

“I need to see for myself.”

Anton froze and turned to Ardi with a not-very-friendly look in his eyes.

“What are you-”

“She’ll die if I don’t,” Ardan said heavily. “And besides, she’s just a child.”

And if Anton, burdened by his inner turmoil, didn’t react to that last word, Mart certainly didn’t miss it.

“Fine, but-”

“I need light,” Ardan pointed to the fabric that served as their ceiling. “A lot of light.”

“So my daughter can be seen by everyone in this damn caravan?” Anton couldn’t hold back. “How will she find a husband after that? Damn southerners… What are you…”

He fell silent. The fire in him died out as quickly as it had ignited.

“Metropolis is a big city…” He whispered to himself. “Maybe the rumors will die down quickly there, and she… she…”

Ardi didn’t know the customs of the various peoples of the Empire well enough to understand what the problem was. In any case, in Evergale, if someone spied on a girl bathing in the lake, that didn’t leave her without prospects for marriage.

“Kid,” a familiar voice suddenly sounded from outside the curtain. “This really is a serious matter for them.”

“Who is that?” Anton shrank back a bit, and Mart flinched slightly.

Atta’nha had said something about how the speech of a vampire would induce involuntary fear in humans…

“Cassara,” Ardi replied as if that explained everything.

He sighed and shook his head. Who would have thought that he would have to resort to the teachings of an Aean’Hane for the second time today?

“Draw the curtains,” he requested. “I need darkness.”

“But you just said-”

“Please,” Ardi interrupted as politely as possible. “Just do as I say. We don’t have much time.”

Anton looked at the doctor, who gave a barely-noticeable nod, and finally, the girl’s father closed the curtain, tightly fastening the cords on the drapes.

But despite Anton’s best efforts, slivers of light still penetrated the wagon, slicing through the fabric’s tears, through the fastenings, and through the gaps in the boards. So, while to a normal person’s eyes the wagon had plunged into a thick gloom bordering on darkness, to a Matabar…

Ardi could still see quite well, though his vision was limited to shades of gray and not as clear as in sunlight.

“Your eyes…” Mart whispered, but stopped short, and carefully maneuvered around Ardi to take Anton by the shoulders and turn him away.

The girl’s father was too occupied with his daughter’s condition to notice the mage’s eyes, which now sported slightly elongated, vertical pupils and a brightly glowing amber iris.

That was what Ardan’s eyes looked like in the dark, according to Erti, Anna, and the others.

“Bear with me,” he whispered into the girl’s ear and got to work.

When he had tried to undo Anna’s corset and untangle the laces on her dress, his fingers had been clumsy and awkward, but now they moved swiftly and skillfully, not a single tight button or cleverly-tied bit of lace slowing him down.

He felt no desire for this child, so even when her black dress fell aside, followed by her beige undergarments and then the rest of her clothing, Ardan merely noted in passing that the girl had a sturdy build, and that was all.

Carefully, trying not to move her more than was necessary, he rolled her from side to side, running his fingers over her skin, pressing down on areas that seemed too swollen or, conversely, too stretched out. With each movement, Erda began to moan and murmur something unintelligible, forcing Ardi to pause to allow his patient to gather a little strength.

“What’s happening-”

“Don’t turn around,” Mart’s voice stopped Anton. “Look straight ahead and trust the mage.”

Ardi, starting with her shoulders, neck, and chest, had now moved to her lower back, and finally, along the sacrum, practically between her buttocks, he found the sought-after mark.

It was a small dot, resembling a simple mole, with a barely-noticeable halo around it.

No wonder the women had missed it during their examination… Ardan, if he hadn’t known what and where to look for, might have missed the wound himself.

Draping a blanket over the girl, he leaned against the side of the wagon.

“Cassara,” he called out in a quiet whisper.

“Yes, kid?”

“Do you know the local flora?”

The vampire didn’t answer immediately.

“Tell me what you need and… hope I can find it.”

“Alright,” Ardan exhaled and looked at the child lying before him. She had little time left… “I need a wooden cup, boiling water, two Dawn Shakhash leaves, which someone surely picked, some heather root, three cornflower buds, aconite, and a stalk of oregano.”

“I’ll try to gather that,” Cassara replied simply.

The minutes they spent waiting were torturous. Mart released Anton, who slumped down on a chest. With rough, trembling hands, he stroked his daughter’s matted hair so gently and tenderly that it was surprising to see how much love and compassion this weathered man’s heart held.

Mart, sitting next to Ardi, just silently stared into the darkness.

Ardan repeated the recipe for the potion in his head, over and over, unsure if he could make it exactly as it needed to be made. During his time in Evergale, he had only helped with health issues a few times, and only when the simplest knowledge of an Aean’Hane had been required.

“So, what’s the diagnosis?” Mart finally couldn’t stand it and broke the silence.

“She was bitten by a Shakhash beetle,” Ardi replied, not taking his eyes off the girl’s gradually-darkening lips. She had only a few hours left… “It feeds on the leaves of the poisonous bush that grows on the banks of some rivers. And those same leaves are loved by bears, for whom the Dawn Shakhash poison is harmless, and the leaves are very sweet, so… Sometimes, they gnaw the bush clean, and the beetle tries to protect its territory. But the bear’s skin is thick, and it has fur, so the beetle can’t pierce it, and its sting’s poison remains only on the skin’s surface, though the pain it causes is still terrible. After such an experience, the bear avoids those particular bushes for a while.”

“Well, that’s something,” Mart muttered, fiddling with a cigar that smelled of an unfamiliar kind of tobacco. “I’ve never heard of such a thing… But why that strange name — Dawn Shakhash?”

“Because the poison works very slowly,” Ardan explained. “And if the beetle bites a person, they can live for some time without feeling any pain from the bite. It ranges from a couple of days to a little more than a week, and then they usually die in their sleep. At night. And they are found…”

“At dawn,” Mart finished for him.

Ardi nodded mechanically, not realizing that other people couldn’t see him doing so in the darkness.

“Then we should check the others-”

“If there were others, they would have already shown the same symptoms.”

“Reasonable,” Mart agreed with a nod of respect. “The only thing that’s unclear is why only Erda was affected. Several people approached the bushes before the marshals warned them.”

This didn’t surprise Ardan. The Dawn Shakhash emitted a distinctive, sweet, and pleasant scent that was easily recognized by local hunters. This lured in the unfortunate prey, which the beetle would bite, and they would die, becoming food for the soil, plants, and trees.

Such was the way of the hunt.

“Her moon cycle,” Ardi explained. “The beetle responded to her cycle.”

Mart said something in response, but Cassara’s words drowned it out.

“I’ve gathered everything,” her voice made both the doctor and Anton flinch.

Something was placed at the entrance to the wagon, and when Ardi pulled back the curtain, he found a cup, a round pot with boiling water, and a cloth bundle.

Unwrapping the fabric, he checked to make sure all the necessary ingredients were there, and then, with a steadying breath, calmed his jittery nerves and got to work.

Placing a blue leaf, which somewhat resembled a gooseberry leaf, at the bottom of the cup, Ardi took a knife and sliced up some heather root on top of it. Then he took three blue buds and plucked four petals from one, two from the second, and all of them from the third. He squeezed them in his hand, holding it over the steam rising from the cooling water until the pain from the heat became unbearable.

He then uncurled his moist fingers and dropped the softened petals into the cup, immediately adding the whole aconite. The stalk of oregano, broken into small pieces, he laid on top of the rest, covering everything with the second Dawn Shakhash leaf.

Then, turning around, he worked his way over the bales and chests to the girl.

“What… What’s that rustling…” Anton turned his head, much like a blind mole. “Are you still here, mage?”

“Yes,” Ardi answered, raising his knife over the girl’s head.

“What… what are you doing?”

“I-”

“He’s reciting a prayer to the Face of Light over your daughter, Anton,” Mart suddenly intervened. “Because, of course, he’s not performing any heretical ritual or any Firstborn magic that could defile the girl. You can rest assured on that count, Anton.”

The girl’s father nodded and resumed his muttered prayers, which Ardi could now distinguish as the Face of Light’s hymns.

Northerners…

Silently thanking Mart, the wizard deftly cut off a lock of the girl’s hair and returned to the cup. He placed the lock of hair on top of the second Dawn Shakhash leaf, then finally poured in the hot, but no longer boiling water.

If he had done everything correctly, the Shakhash poison should clash with the aconite poison, and while they were preoccupied with each other, the other ingredients would bind them and turn them into something beneficial.

Taking the cup, Ardi returned to the girl and leaned over her head. He blew on the steam so that she could breathe it in, and then, pinching her nose, began to slowly, gradually, pour the cup’s contents into her mouth.

The process took at least fifteen minutes, during which the girl’s father never ceased his prayers, and Mart kept fiddling with his cigar.

Finally, when the cup was empty, Ardi asked for the curtain to be drawn back.

“Everything will be alright, my dear,” Anton whispered. “Everything will be just fine… You’ll see, my little orchid.”

When the light returned to the wagon, everyone could see that the girl’s face was gradually regaining its color, and that her breathing had become a bit more regular.

“Praise the Face of Light!” Anton exclaimed, collapsing beside his daughter. “Praise be to you and the Eternal Angels who heard my prayers… Praise the Light and…”

Ardi looked at the sobbing father, who was cradling his now steadily-breathing daughter, and at that moment, he felt a little better. And somewhere deep in his consciousness, the image of a head pierced by a bullet was replaced by this — the sight of Anton gently rocking his daughter to sleep.

Not wanting to disturb Anton, Ardan approached Mart.

“She should drink a cup of hot water with salt every three hours. If there’s no salt, you can add a little basil or thyme to the water.”

“We’ll find some salt,” Mart smiled.

Ardi nodded and, stepping outside, was surprised to find that it was almost night.

The marshal was nowhere to be seen, nor was his horse there, and only Cassara stood nearby.

“Where-”

“Kal’dron convinced Yonatan to stay here for another night,” the vampire, still watching the prairie expanse, answered his unasked question. “And he was very much unhappy about it, but we’ll leave that for tomorrow. For now, go to sleep, kid.”

“I need to-”

Ardi approached his horse and noticed that both his small tent and sleeping bag had already been untied from the saddle.

“Over there,” the vampire pointed.

Ardan hesitated for a moment, then nodded gratefully and trudged off in the indicated direction.

By the Spirit of the Night… He couldn’t have possibly imagined that a single day could last so long, rivaling an entire month in some ways. It felt like more had happened today than in the past year.

And maybe that was why the tired wizard made the simplest and most ridiculous mistake a hunter could make: he didn’t notice the man with that unfamiliar tobacco scent following him.