The road passed through the village of Heilmean. It happened to be well protected, surrounded by good land and forests, and if its inhabitants had been more inclined towards their own affairs than those of their neighbors, it would have been a prosperous one.

The villagers were not sympathetic to the newcomers and dropped everything as soon as they came their way. They did not notice at first that the man on the horse had his hands tied together and his legs tied to the saddle. His head was hidden under a hood of a heavy cloak that hung over both sides.

The local innkeeper, leaning against the door of his establishment, spat on the only piece of grass he could find. He muttered a few sour words before slowly retreating inside. His inn was the only one in the area, and he knew for a fact that the travellers were bound for it.

"We don’t like your kind ‘ere!" screeched an old woman leading a goat on a short, thin leash. The goat resisted as best it could, bleating on its way to the slaughter. The woman tugged on the leash from time to time to remind the goat who its master was.

"My kind must eat too," muttered the man leading the horse. He tied it to the small sheltered tree trunk in front of the inn and helped his companion with his bonds. Then he tied one end of the rope to his own hand and led him inside.

They sat down at the farthest table, behind the trails of vomit on the wall where the sun could not reach.

"You know, I’m really enjoying our little adventure," the prisoner said, trying to catch a piece of meat floating in the soup. "It's been a while since I have been to this part of the world. Beautiful nature. The people, well, not so much," he called out to the surrounding tables, full of local workers and drunks, some of whom had just arrived and others who had never left.

Their faces darkened and some shouted back. One of the guests even approached him with a knife. Before the giant could get closer, he was on the ground under the mercenary's foot.

"I also like the protection I get on this trip," the prisoner continued, "I feel privileged. Like the prince of the Isles."

"Damaged goods are worth less," the captor replied and slumped back in his seat.

The captive shrugged his shoulders and continued to sip what was left of his bowl. "I even met the bastard once."

"Who?"

"The prince of the Isles. Were you listening at all?"

"No."

"Whatever. The bards are liars. Those songs are pure invention. I mean, he's just a sad little runt who shits gold wherever he goes and lets everyone else do his job. Nothing but a spoiled brat. When he-"

"Quiet!" the mercenary noticed a sudden change in the room, a wave of silence that swallowed the chattering mouths one by one. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized an approaching threat.

"Agamon," said the voice from behind, followed by a heavy clang of boots and armor. "Could it really be you? What a pleasant surprise this is!"

"Railer," the mercenary replied, nodding politely in acknowledgement of the Order of Virtue.

"Still headhunting, I see. Life on the road and all the gold you could want. That's what you said." Railer patted him on the shoulder with his heavy hand. "So, how’s everything?"

"Just like I said last time. All that I can wish for." Agamon lied.

"And who is your friend here?" said another knight, tapping the table with his glove. "The catch of the day?"

"Knights of the Order of Valor. I am honored to make your acquaintance. When I was a boy, I dreamed of becoming one of you. Unfortunately, I was not very good at anything," said the prisoner, who could not help his amusement. "My name is Todar. At your service, your knights' ships." He waved his hand in the air, as is customary in royal courts.

"What did you do to get caught in the snare of this one?" Railer said, towering over Todar. "Does he treat you with… valor?"

"Oh, nothing at all good sir. Just minding my own business."

"He is a thief. He’s of no import to anyone by the law." Agamon said, growing impatient. "And according to the law, he must be extradited. So if you do not mind, we must be on our way."

"Without having a few drinks with old friends?" Railer replied. "For old times' sake."

"I do not have any friends," Agamon returned, avoiding the eyes of the two knights. He pulled on the rope as he stood up, leaving Todar no room to dawdle. In a few minutes, they were out of the gates of the village and far on the open road.

"That’s a funny story right there. If I were a bard, I would write such a ballad it would tear people's hearts." Todar spoke from under his cloak, fighting hopelessly against the wind. "From a knight to a mercenary. No. That's too vague. Valor for gold? Aha! Much better. I just need to find a decent bard. Where do you suppose they live?"

"Shut up."

"I am serious. This has the makings of a masterpiece. Pure potential."

"Shut up or I'll muzzle you," Agamon growled.

"You do not have a muzzle."

"There's always horse shit."

"But honestly, what happened to you?"

"I do not want to talk about it."

"I do."

"No one cares what you want.

"Dona does. Right, Dona?" Todar said into the mare's ear and nearly got kicked off.

"That’s right Dona, nobody cares," Agamon replied and laughed while suppressing the anger he could do nothing about.

They crossed the river over a stone bridge and followed the trail to a fork. One path continued south along the water, the other upward, toward the roots of Jade Mountain. One was faster, but the other was much safer.

"What was that bounty on my head again?" Todar asked, waiting for the mercenary to refill his water sack.

"Five hundred gold."

"That's a royal ransom, don't you think? And what are you going to do with it? Buy a bigger sword? Take revenge on those knights? There must be something you want."

"Peace," Agamon said, forcing the water into Todar's mouth.

"Meh. I thought you'd be more fun." replied the prisoner. "Don't you like chasing people? I mean, if I could, I'd do it all the time. Always on the road, on the hunt for the evildoers, and the prospect of a reward hanging is in the air. You must have earned a fortune by now."

"Earned, that's the key word."

"Right," Todar smirked. "You still think I'm a thief. If you ever considered my side of the story, you might come to understand that-"

"Pssst..."

The mountain pass was one of the few places where Agamon didn't expect trouble. And yet trouble found him all the same.

A woman stood in the middle of the road, propping her hands on a pair of swords. She didn't move or respond to the approaching trio until they were within range of her blades.

"Jenna," Agamon said in a sour tone.

She opened her eyes, had her swords in the air, and was ready to use them.

"Agamon," she returned. "I really hate that you beat me to it, but the road to Kazaman is quite long and anything can happen. So I decided to happen."

"And here I was hoping you would find it in your heart not to be a vulture just this one time. And what's this? The third, no, the fourth time you've tried to double-cross me? When are you going to accept that you're just not that lucky?"

"You don't need luck when you can screw over those who have it." She smiled and tilted her head to the side to catch a glimpse of the prisoner. "If you turn the little runt over to me, we can all move on," she said.

"I don't think you'd like him. He won't keep his mouth shut." Agamon said without batting an eye. With a swift movement, he pulled the rope and pushed his companion off the horse. Todar growled angrily but tried to remain as calm as possible in the face of a sword.

"You know they need him alive for the trial, don't you? Otherwise, there will be no gold."

Jenna grinned and spat. "I know their stupid laws. Now get the hell out of here."

"Let me untie him from the horse first, unless you want Dona there, too.

"I'd rather eat dirt. That horse is insane."

While pulling on the large knot attached to the saddle, Agamon carefully pulled out a dagger hidden behind the saddlebags.

He quickly threw Todar to the ground behind him, and before Jenna could react, the dagger was so deep in her leg that all she could do was collapse to the ground.

"Two swords and you still don't know how to defend your legs," he said. "Good fortune to you, and don't let me see you in my way again."

"I guess you'd like that. You always thought you were better than everyone else. One day I'll have your head, Agamon. Remember that." She dragged herself to her horse and galloped off in the other direction, leaving a trail of blood in the dirt.

Todar had no ropes to tie him up and an open road ahead, but to Agamon's great surprise, he didn't run. He simply leaned against a pine tree on the side of the road and breathed heavily. The fall made him dizzy and achy, but his main concern wasn't the pain, but the actions of his captor.

"Don't think I didn't want to," Todar said. "I just don't want a dagger in my back. And please, for the love of gods, no ropes this time."

"If you try anything, you'll get there alive, but not in one piece."

"I like myself in one piece, thank you very much."

●

They were halfway up the mountain. Sharp rocks towered over them and threatened to crush them from above. It looked as if there would be no end to the path they were on, only the danger of night catching up with them.

They didn't stop, not even when the trail became narrow and full of debris. Below them flowed a stream that had cut deep into the mountain. They followed it, all the way to the great stone arch beyond which the mountain the scenery became less violent.

"Can we camp here for the night?" asked the prisoner when he saw the green pastures in the distance.

"Not yet."

"Kazaman is ways off. How can I stand trial if I die of exhaustion? Or hunger? We've been waking for ages and you won't let me ride. That's no way to treat a prisoner if you ask me."

"Ever been to Bashka?"

"No. Why?"

"There’s a prison there. You might like it."

"You are joking I assume."

"They keep you in a dark cell until you lose your mind and then, you admit to doing just about anything to make it stop. But, even after you admit to the crimes, be they yours or not, as punishment they put you back in the same cell. I should take you to Bashka."

"Fine, have it your way. Just tell me when we are going to stop. I am hungry."

They sat by the fire, sheltered in a small cove, where the wind could not reach them. Agamon did not like to spend the nights in such open and wild places. It was never about the danger or the lack of a proper pillow under his head, but simply the absence of people he could never get used to.

"Someone is screaming. Do you hear that?" Todar said. He held his cloak over his head and made a sharp observation of his surroundings from time to time.

"It is the foxes," Agamon replied and jarred the fire. "That's what the foxes sound like."

"Alright, mercenary. Now you can tell me the story."

"No."

"I will be sentenced in a few days. It shall be my last wish to hear a story from the one who will deliver me to the chopping block."

"They will only hang you in Kazaman."

"Does it matter?"

Agamon poked the fire once again. His fondness for stories was limited to those he had heard as a child. "That was a long time ago now." He began to drag out the words, "As a child I had sworn to uphold the Valor. It was all I needed. At least that's what I thought at the time. One day I was on my way to Feolen on royal business. I was to deliver a letter to Prince Gavrin, who had taken up residence in the fortress to the north, the one belonging to his brother. It was an urgent matter, and a mere messenger could not be trusted with it."

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"The Black Bar'Kadar?" Todar replied with a glint in his eye.

"Yes."

"When I finally arrived, five days had already passed. The storms in the north were brutal. I lost two horses to them. Only Donna survived.

The king was sickly at the time and wanted to ensure his campaigns continued and his heir was ready to inherit the kingdom. What I didn’t know when I arrived at Bar’Kadar was that in those five short days, the kings had gotten much worse and died.

I was to head back at first light, but in the night they came for me. Whatever was in the letter did not seem to please Gavrin, so he wanted rid of the messenger. I don’t remember much of it, just the terrible cold that never seemed to subside. I don’t know how long it took or why I didn’t die, but somehow I managed to escape it all.

"Is that why your face looks like a plough ran over it?"

"Yes."

"And the knights?"

"They took me in, afterwards. They say they serve no king and have only the Valor as their master but it’s all horseshit. There is always a king for them to serve. So I left."

"But they still think you a coward? Don’t they?"

"Who cares what they think?" Agamon scowled and took a sip of water.

"Hmm. Maybe you are right, mercenary. Maybe there are bigger things than duty."

●

At dawn, they followed a steep path down the mountain, used only by goats and hunters. Ahead of them was a forest that covered everything from the base of the mountain down to the valley. They could not see it from the fog, but there was hardly a more beautiful sight in the world than that one.

"Do you know what they call this place?" Todar said, slightly amused by the path they had chosen.

"Eltefar," returned Agamon.

"Good. The green eye of the western territory. And do you know why?"

"Can’t say I want to know."

"Ever heard of the Golden King?"

"Everyone’s heard of him."

"But did you know that his castle is still hidden in this forest?"

"I suppose it's another treasure you'd like to steal?"

"You will never understand the... Wolf!," Todar cried, snapping the reins.

Beside them walked a predator of formidable size, larger than any wolf they had ever seen. It moved swiftly, and they would not have noticed it if its fur had not been so black that it looked almost like a shadow.

Without a word, Agamon walked a few steps further downhill and tied Dona to one of the trees. He drew his sword and waited patiently.

One step after another, the black wolf came towards them, never taking his eyes off the prey, never hesitating to come closer. There was no fear in its eyes.

Todar slid off the horse and held onto one of the trees from behind, peering at the animal. He had no chance of getting out alive if his captor was killed. Horses were not as fast as the wolves of Eltefar.

Agamon took his first step forward, and then another. Slowly he turned backwards, uphill, taunting the wolf to follow him and not his captive. He swung the sword in the air a few times, but the wolf hardly noticed, lowering its head moving forward again.

"Go away or I'll kill you," he roared, hoping the animal would see sense and run away. After all, it was alone, abandoned by its own pack. "Stay away."

With a single leap, the wolf covered the last distance between them, giving Agamon no time to strike back. He could only keep the teeth from his throat with something as thin as a sword. The weight of the wolf pressed him against the earth, unable to move or attack.

He tried to fight, to topple it over and slice its throat, but all he could feel was the warm breath of a bloodthirsty animal. He pushed against it with his bare hands until the fangs reached his skin.

Then the beast let go of him. It squealed and rolled over, falling on its side. It coughed and shook while a slow stream of blood flowed from its mouth.

Only the hilt of a dagger protruded from the black fur on its neck.

Todar lay beside the wolf, breathing heavily, trying to pull the dagger out.

"You?" growled Agamon, surprised by the uncanny actions of his prisoner. "Why did you do that?"

"It was mercy," Todar replied without turning around. His hand trembled as he ran it over the fur. "The black wolf is the symbol of Kazaman. It’s a great honor to hunt such a beast. It would be an insult to my ancestors if I let it die of hunger or old age."

"You are a strange one," mumbled Agamon as he gathered himself and brought Dona back to the trail.

The forest gave way to fields of wheat and barley, leaving them defenceless and without food to face the oncoming storm. Soon they had no choice but to head for one of the villages scattered along the Groden River.

The main street was deserted, except for the merchants hiding in their stores, eyeing the rain-soaked newcomers. The village was called Aluver, which despite its size and location had little luck with trade or commerce in general. It was the kind of place often left unmarked on maps and avoided by travellers.

They came across a lodging house, in an ally behind the main street, perfectly safe and hidden away.

"Don’t get any ideas," Agamon said, pushing the prisoner through the door. He trusted him enough to avoid the ropes, but never enough to let him out of his sight.

●

It was sometime after midnight when Agamon was awakened by voices from the tavern below. Loud thuds and music, interspersed with shouting and the clanking of metal. He could not understand a single word, for they all sounded foreign. Soon he wanted to see what was going on and set about waking his companion but discovered there was nothing but pillows under the covers.

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists. "Idiot!" he shouted through his teeth. With his dagger in his sleeve, he descended the stairs, carefully examining the corners of the tavern hall.

There were at least a dozen of them. They were dressed in yellow robes and danced to the music of a hidden musician. They formed a circle, clapped their hands and drank rounds of alcohol.

"Traftans," Agamon whispered. They were far from home and not too welcome in this part of the country.

Todar, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. The tavern was not large, and there was not much room to hide, but as logic suggested, he was far from both the tavern and the village.

"Would you like something to drink?" a woman said, offering him a plate of different kinds of coloured drinks.

"Did you see the man I came here with? Scrawny looking like he had never had a real meal."

"Do you mean him?" She pointed to the centre of the dancing circle, where Todar, sitting on a small chair, played a strange black instrument shaped like a turtle.

Seeing Agamon, Todar jumped up and immediately interrupted the performance. "Agamon, my friend, come and join us. These fine people come all the way from Trafaton. Can you imagine what a journey they have had?"

"I don’t care. You’re coming with me," growled Agamon, plucking the instrument from his hand, much to the displeasure of the foreigners.

"You can’t do that," said one with a thick accent. He grabbed the instrument and thrust it back into Todar's hand. "He plays for us."

"See?" Todar grinned, almost mocking Agamon’s powerlessness.

"I have no quarrel with you, I just want my prisoner back."

"Prisoner?" another Trafaton said. "You are mistaken. There is no prisoner here. He is our friend. And he will play Haruzzika for us if he wishes. Who are you to stop him?"

"No one." Agamon felt there was no way he could win the argument. Instead, he had no choice but to sit and watch until they all drunkenly fell asleep.

What he had not counted on was that he even got to enjoy the amusing nature of Trafatons. They danced and sang and drank, telling him stories about their country and places that sounded made up just to entertain the mind. In the midst of it all, he even felt sorry for the fate that had befallen Todar. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, it was never his business to care for anything other than fulfilling a contract.

●

When morning finally broke, they set out in silence, ignoring the sleeping travellers scattered on the tavern floor. Kazaman was only hours away. Most of the way led through grassy fields and forests, and they kept away from the few villages that lay in between.

"What did you steal?" Agamon asked, breaking the long silence.

"I thought you said you didn’t care?"

"I am bored," lied Agamon.

"I stole a crown."

Agamon laughed and scratched his ear. "The crown of Kazaman?"

"Yes."

"And what did you do with it? Did you try to sell it?

"I do not want to spoil that part for you," Todar replied in a strangely sorrowful voice.

Agamon didn’t want to dwell on it any longer. He could only imagine what it was like to know exactly when one's own death was coming and to be led there by one like himself made it even worse. He did not say another word.

By nightfall, they had arrived.

The stars were unlike any that had come before. Kazaman spread out before them like a sea of light. Small beacons scattered all around, marking out the land. Nearly a hundred islands seemed to be held together only by bridges.

"Home", Todar said cheerfully.

Agamon pulled on the reins and led Donna down the road paved with red stone. Soon they could smell the spice stores and the fresh fruit of the northern markets rising to meet them. Kazaman never seemed to sleep.

There was no rush in Agamon’s pace, almost as if he did not yet want to see the end of their journey. He glanced back at the prisoner peeking out from under his hood, and he could have sworn he saw him smile.

They followed the path to the red palace, from one small island to another, avoiding the wide streets and letting the night hide them as best it could. But soon a swarm of guards from the alleys surrounded them, forming an inescapable circle. It was broken only by their leader in red royal armor.

"To the dungeon," he said, holding his sword under Agamon's chin.

Three days later they came for him. His cell was not as uncomfortable as he’d imagined and he wondered if Todar was anywhere near him, or if his judgement had already been passed.

He watched the line of statues pass him by, lions and hawks alike. The people stood silently, watching as he passed, all rigid with pity or contempt.

The guards took him all the way to the royal palace.

They made him kneel before the throne and kept his head lowered until the queen and her son were seated. When he was allowed to look up, he found Todar sitting in the high chair, sipping wine.

"It has been a long time since a Knight of Valor has graced our halls." said the queen and her voice echoed in the throne hall.

"I am not a knight, my queen" returned Agamon.

"What are you then?"

"Only a mercenary."

"Remember that you kneel before the throne of Kazaman, and as such you are obligated to tell the truth. Only the truth," the queen raised her voice.

"Forgive me, but I do not know what you want me to say, my queen."

"Limad Mair Tartagamon the Fourth. Brother of King Gavrin. Master of the Black Bar'Kadar. A king who never was. A prince who was said to be the savior of the people. A man who changed his fate so many times that he left a great destiny behind to become a mercenary. Is this the truth you are withholding from us?"

Agamon lowered his head, hoping the past would stay dead and no one would remember his name when he was gone.

"It is my queen."

"And why is that so?"

"Freedom of choice," Todar said getting out of his tall chair. He stepped down and approached the prisoner. There was not much about him to resemble the chattering thief Agamon had met before, not in the velvet coat or in the golden rings on his fingers. The tables have turned.

"You brought back my son, the queen said. "You have safely returned the crown of Kazaman to its rightful place. I will be eternally grateful for that. But know that the throne you left to your mad brother has brought chaos and death to the continent. Your inaction has killed thousands of my people and will kill more. Is your freedom worth that?"

Agamon was silent. He felt the sudden weight of lost years pushing down on his shoulders. He was back in the snow under the Black Bar’Kadar, where his brother took all that was his. He looked back at Todar and knew that there was no more running.

"I hope you will understand why I chose you for this," the queen continued. "I hoped that both of you could learn that freedom is only for those who have nothing to lose. For now, war is knocking at our door once again. Will you choose to lead or pretend you were someone else?"