Korran stared hard at Alaric's back. He was well aware that a part of himself had been searching for a reason to turn back and deem this job a lost cause before he even met the others. It wasn't hard to imagine what a goal-driven noble who wanted to see the job done himself would have qualms about.

As anticipated, his words had rattled the man but just moments after he'd seemed rejuvenated and once again stepped confidently. He'd tested the man's mental strength because if they hoped to best a company as cutthroat as the Gretas their leader couldn't be weak-willed.

Korran couldn't tell if he was pleased or annoyed when his words failed to leave a permanent scar.

They traveled the rest of the way in silence with Korran extremely aware of how out in the open he was. Usually, he could calculate his routes beforehand so even if he was caught by surprise he'd be prepared - however, in this instance, a rifleman could shoot at him from out of his daggers' reach, and he was unaccustomed to the flat terrain.

Thankfully, they reached the tent before any onlookers could realize the Dagger of the West was a sitting duck. Korran had spotted the tent from a long way out, considering it was in plain sight.

This crew didn't seem to think much of caution. However, a lone figure had watched their approach, boldly sitting on a large rock stationed in front of the tent and campfire. He brandished a weapon in his hand and Korran realized from a few yards out it was a spear.

Korran had killed many a spearman and didn't think much of their lack of defense without shields, so this revelation did nothing to reassure his risking skepticism. The man did have the demeanor of someone who could get the job done, though. A few years of hunting down people allowed you to be able to read their stances to see if there was the hesitance of an inexperienced killer, or the cold self-assurance of someone who'd flicked off a being's lights.

In some rare cases, even Korran couldn't get a read on someone. They appeared eerily calm and in this case, Korran believed that it meant they were natural killers who had yet flexed their talents. That was not the case here.

The lone spear-bearer stared hard at the pair's approach. As Korran neared he made note of what the man wore. A grey and white plaid vest peeked out from under a familiar blue armhole jacket. His pants were short but appeared brand new with not a speck of dirt defacing them. Guerdian army uniform. His eyes were deep-set and seemed to be naturally narrowed in disapproving slits as they were now, with a frown to match.

"This is the boy called the legendary Dagger of the West?" The man asked incredulously. Now that he'd stopped twirling his spear, Korran thought his right arm appeared much more muscular than his left.

Korran scoffed, "This is one of the random barbarians you've gathered for such an onerous task? One of the blokes off the streets of Halia would've at least appeared more intimidating."

The man pointed his spear at Korran with his wolfish nose scrunched up in annoyance. "You'd do well to respect your elders, boy. If you end up dead from my spear then Alaric here would have no choice but to accept you weren't the man for the job."

The man appeared around Alaric's age despite his rough features and yet he considered himself an elder. Clearly he was in a hurry to be considered an adult. The Guerdian people were known primarily for their proficient merchants, but their army was nothing to disregard. What they lacked in skill they made up for in grit and ruthlessness. As the stories went; pillaging, razing villages, and slaughtering innocents were not beneath the wolfish nose that their people customarily bore.

Korran had never personally clashed with one of them, but the short-tempered people were on his radar.

"Now, now," came a thundering yet gentle voice from behind the stout Guerdian. "Appearances can be deceiving - you shouldn't judge off of it." Despite his words, Korran had a hard time not judging the speaker's appearance.

The man cleared seven feet without a doubt in anyone's mind. His massive hands were placed comfortably behind his head as he leaned back idly - as idle as someone that colossal could appear anyway. He wore a plain grey shirt with simple fabric that somehow managed to contain his burly build. His trousers were made of fur, a pelt that clung to his monolithic legs and swayed gently in the minuscule wind as he made his way over to them.

However, what caught Korran's attention was the man's necklace; it had a pendant of a metal star, dipped in tar so that it took on a glossy yet dull sheen of midnight black. This was the sign of one of the Curasao tribes. They believed in Gods - beings who existed beyond our plane of existence with the ability to influence the world - and were very superstitious in general.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Korran had once been tasked with killing such a person and though the man defended himself, it was not with the usual fear that a frantic man fought. Even when Korran plunged his dagger into the man's heart, the man's gaze had been peaceful - almost forgiving. It had given Korran the creeps but the man had been worth a few Gurdees all the same.

Still, the man had a cruel weapon for such a religious figure. His warhammer strapped onto his back was miraculously as large as him and Korran imagined he wouldn't be able to lift the weapon - much less swing it.

The Guerdian chuckled, although he looked wary of the giant. "That's easy for you to say, now isn't it, Ardus?"

Ardus folded his arms. "It relates to me as well."

"Respectfully, I don't see how," said Korran.

"Where is the woman?" Alaric asked. He'd been content to watch the interactions silently but now he seemed eager to speed up the process.

"Sleeping, before you ruffians started your chirping," came a voice from the tent. Korran watched as a woman stepped out of the flaps. Straight midnight-sapphire hair cascaded down her shoulder and her eyes were a hypnotizing glacier blue. However, he was more focused on the emblem on her shirt.

"Keirsha," Korran stated in a harsh whisper before he could stop himself. The woman in question looked up, something dark flashing beneath her pupils before disappearing.

"It's been a while since someone has recognized this emblem," she said, her voice as hard as granite. "I figure that confirms that you hail from the Kalio clan." To his questioning brow, she added, "They've been rumors."

Korran knew that they in fact were not rumors but he didn't press the issue. There were many rumors about him - mostly myths - but none so specific that they'd accurately guess his birth clan. After all, he didn't outwardly represent them as this woman did hers.

"I hope you won't let our little family feud get in the way of a mission well done," the Keirshan said with a small smile.

The rivalry between their clans was in no way a small feud. Dating back a few decades, the Kalio and Kiersha clans were once sister clans, operating in harmony, which was rare - even back then. Predictably, egos eventually clashed, and after a member of the Keirsha clan slayed an elder from the Kalio clan, a brutal war was waged. Even in the present day, the clans avoided each other like the plague which at least kept bloodshed between them to a minimum.

Korran met her probing eyes. "I have no interest in Kalio dealings, so I don't imagine it will be an issue."

"We share the same mindset, then."

"Except I don't wear my clan's logo," Korran responded with more aversion than intended. He'd been programmed to not trust Keirshans, but they were truly sly individuals.

The Keirshan shrugged. "I don't care for my clan, but their emblem does provide certain...benefits."

The Guerdian's chuckle once again drew Korran's attention. He was already growing sick of that grating sound. "Perhaps the great Dagger of the West should follow your example, Fiona, and wear his clan's emblem, so he could benefit from proper clothing!"

The man didn't know that under his low-end robe was an outfit with light armor, tailored for his expeditions. Yet, he didn't feel the need to prove himself to this spear-wielding clown. Korran traced the man's attire with his eyes and said, "We can't all benefit from stealing our people's clothes, now can we, meerkat of the circus."

The Guerdian's face soured and he once again lifted his spear, pointing its blade directly at Korran. "Steal? I'm-"

"That's twice you've pointed that inept weapon at me now." Korran interrupted, allowing a warning tone to seep into his voice. "Should it reach thrice, I'll have your blood nourishing whatever ground you stand on, elder."

"That's enough," Alaric interjected, stepping between the two. "That energy would be better used on working toward our goal. Korran, there's one more team member that we left at the stables." Alaric's gaze softened and his tone betrayed a hint of pleading as he said, "Will you be joining us?"

Korran felt the weight of everyone's eyes on him. The wind finally came alive, causing the short stalks of grass to recite their tribal dance. Korran imagined fighting alongside this odd crew of alluring ingredients thrown together in hopes of a golden creation. He figured that it was better than hiding away in a cave - and the pardon was nothing to sniff at, yet a small part of him wondered if he'd liked the image of being among a team.

Korran laughed at that part of him. Assassins worked best alone because being let down was impossible - even on joint missions, they focused on their own battles and raced against each other to complete the objective.

Teamwork wasn't a reliable construct because everyone wasn't born with wide enough shoulders to bear the burden of responsibility.

"Korran?" Alaric prodded, dragging him from his thoughts.

Korran allowed a grin to decorate his face. "I'm not exactly known for walking away from big paydays. I dare say it's my weakness."

The giant man called Ardus lumbered over to Korran and he stiffened, his hand ready to dig under his robe for a dagger at a moment's notice. To his surprise, Ardus patted him on the back with a meaty hand and friendly smile, "Atta boy, friend. By the Gods' will, I imagine we're in for plenty of fun."

"And success," the Keirshan girl murmured.

"Aye to that."

"To success," Alaric announced, raising his greatsword in the air. The rest followed suit with Ardus managing to raise his colossal Warhammer in the air, the Guerdian raising his spear and the Kiershan raising her fist. Alaric looked to Korran expectedly and he complied, pulling a dagger from the depths of his robe and raising it into the air.

"To success!"