Birds flew east over a clear blue sky inhabited by a lonely cloud, catching the eye of a hooded traveler. Had there been five or seven, Dugeno Genagin would’ve recognized it as a good sign, but six spelled trouble. At least that’s what Dugeno’s old nursemaid, Lejina, had always said. She had been full of strange wisdom and proverbial sayings that his tutors found laughably superstitious, yet he found quaintly charming.

“There were six birds in that flock,” Dugeno said to his companion.

“Ill tidings milord. See any black ones?” Hirrus asked in his old gruff soldierly way.

“Yes, Two. Any significance?”

“Lonely Atrista, bless old Lejina for her wisdom.”

“That bad? Double the bad luck?” asked Dugeno.

“Aye, it means two arrows in the face, so slap those eyes on the bushes milord. Bandits don't hide in the air.” Hirrus rumbled.

"The Hidden Hand do. Could be hiding just over that cloud yonder. See the one that looks like a rabbit with overly large teeth?"

“You mean the one that looks like a man swimming down?”

“No…we must be looking at different clouds.”

Hirrus coughed shrugging, "If they were here, they wouldn’t be having a pajama party up there. Much better cover on the ground."

"Right, you would know.” A momentary silence passed by before Dugeno once again started talking. “Dreadful outfits, black is such a dull color, usually means something dreadful is about to happen too, but that’s besides the point. What about the omens! We could be in grave danger you know." Dugeno liked to collect rumors and superstitions. Hirrus blamed Lejina for that, but in truth, he simply liked seeing Hirrus’s reaction to them.

"More dangerous than an arrow from the bushes?" Hirrus groused.

"Well possibly, Lejina was remiss on the details of the bird omens, but arrows definitely didn’t play a role in them." Hirrus snorted at that, the atmosphere between them convivial like the olden days. Until he remembered where they were, in some backwater country hundreds of miles from their homeland, and that his friend had a family waiting for him. If not for Dugeno he’d be with them now.

Dugeno changed tact. Though, he knew he’d fail since it was more a matter of how hard he was willing to push for the sake of his friend versus how desperately he needed Hirrus. Wretched selfishness it was. At once Dugeno felt his throat constrict. If he wasn’t a coward the next words from his mouth would be an order, one without loopholes or ambiguity, an order to relieve the old knight. Send him back. The next words were forced through a narrow windpipe, quiet, but becoming stronger as he realized he wouldn’t do it. “Far be it from me to argue against the signs. Let's heed the warning and stop here for the day. Besides, I’m tired, we’ll catch the caravan later.”

“Milord, what if the caravan is attacked while we’re gone?” Hirrus said in that calm, patient tone he took when the young man stated an obviously bad idea.

“And what if I end up getting saddle sore? Won’t be able to defend them then eh? Besides, mercenaries don’t follow rules, and the caravan has several days to go before we leave Kalatian territory. We’re fine, they’re fine, everything’s fine.” Dugeno said, patting the air.

”Old age hasn’t gotten to me yet. As I recall all of the companies we joined had quite a list of rules. If we get kicked from this one.” Hirrus left the last part unsaid, shaking his head. He’d stop and wait with him if that’s what Dugeno ordered despite the very real chance they’d never work another contract again if they bungled this one. Mercenary companies were desperately recruiting for bodies rather than skilled soldiers, yet too many marks on your career could end up blacklisting you from all but the worst of them, and he'd seen the worst. Dugeno had decided to never join those types of outfits, even if he was beggared.

“No, let’s keep going,” Dugeno sighed. “But you must admit getting kicked from The Midnight Marauders would be a step up! These uniforms are horrible,” Dugeno said, gesturing towards himself. Not only was the black hooded cloak combined with a black face mask bland, but it also screamed amateur hour. They were loose enough to get in the way of combat, a price not worth paying for anonymity. He’d ditch them the second a battle started.

“Absolutely milord, I hate scaring children,” Hirrus replied.

"When are you going to stop calling me milord? We're equals now."

"I still believe in your claim."

A claim with a cost too high Dugeno thought, grimacing and decided to change the topic. At least he’d gotten Hirrus to call him milord instead of the other thing.

Several uneventful hours passed by with Dugeno constantly reminding Hirrus of dire portents like a rock in the middle of the road—Hirrus had gotten off his horse and kicked that particular portent back to the woods, grumbling under his breath—when three dubious-looking mercenaries broke off from the front and rode towards them.

“Fresh faces all of them,” Dugeno said a bit too loudly.

“Every child dreams of becoming a sellsword in Kalat,” Hirrus whispered, wincing as he noticed the 'Sellswords' were now definitely coming towards them with a hint of hostility. Excellent ears or enchanted helmets. Hirrus mounted his horse, Dappy a black speckled mare, hoping no trouble was inbound.

One of the young sellswords waved towards them and threw up a salute, or at least Hirrus hoped it was a salute and not one of those new gestures young mercenaries liked to invent to insult each other. Hirrus hadn’t dealt with much of this in the knighthood but the past year had quickly schooled him.

“We’re taking the rearguard!” she shouted. In response, Dugeno waved back and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Who are you lot supposed to be?" Dugeno said.

"Keepers of Kedel," The young woman said, crossing her arms and definitely making a rude gesture in the process. Hirrus recognized that one but knew Dugeno wouldn’t appreciate even a token defense of his honor, not anymore.

"What a coincidence we met a group called that in Elesnea. The goddess must have a great number of keepers."

Dugeno saw the lead rider blush as they trotted past him. He distinctly heard, "Told you it was taken." as they went by.

“I’m going to take a nap on one of those wagons. Guide my horse for me.” Dugeno said.

“Of course milord, but try not to cause any trouble. We're on our last leg.” Hirrus said, watching his lord ride off without a backward glance.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Unfortunately, all the dust Dugeno had dodged far to the rear returned with a vengeance as he closed in on the rear wagon. Perhaps the face mask had some uses, he thought. The man riding in the rearmost wagon seemed a surly sort with brutish features and a scar on his cheek. Not quite the mental image he had of enchanters, but looks could be deceiving.

"Hello, my good man," Dugeno said, plastering a fake smile on his face before realizing the hood and mask meant the other man couldn't see it. Dugeno waited a beat but received no response.

"You there, caravan driver," He called out more loudly. Again the man ignored him. Well, sometimes looks fit the person. Dugeno clenched his teeth. This pissant dared ignore him? He'd have been flogged a year ago for this.

"You there sir, a K-noble is speaking to you!" Dugeno said. This finally caught the man's attention, and he glowered at Dugeno.

"Oh are you now? Hate to see what your peasants look like. Where’d you say you come from?" the man replied, and with that, Dugeno's slowly rising anger puckered out.

"Well, that's not important. I assure you though, this is very much a noble posterior, and it needs a comfortable wagon bed."

"Go dive into the Eternal Abyss. You weren't hired to lay about. What company are you again? The Night Bandits?"

Dugeno’s mind raced. Now, this, this was exactly what they didn’t need, another complaint lodged against them. "Keepers of Kedel, my good man."

"You aren't with the brats. I'll inform the lead driver about this."

Dugeno's heartbeat quickened. How his enemies would laugh at the end of his journey, done in by a wagon driver because he couldn't keep his foot in his mouth for five minutes. That was a good thing though wasn’t it? After all, Hirrus would finally leave. He’d go home to his family and raise steadfast loyal little people the world needed more of. As for himself, well he could finally wallow in the muck where no one knew him. No more would there be this lodestone over his neck, constantly reminding him of what had been. He could work on a farm, raise some chickens, marry a village lass, be covered in excrement shoveling animal crap all day. Well maybe he wouldn’t do that last bit, but what else was there? His mask decided to take matters into its own hands and promptly sank sideways, covering the world in darkness.

"Is he bothering you?" A third gruff voice stepped into the conversation, and Dugeno swore to Atrista he'd listen to Hirrus's advice more...at least on holy days. But wasn’t this what you wanted? A small voice said. Relief coursed through him, tainted by a stab of shame. He was like a gambler with one last thing left to lose, having inched his way to the precipice for the past year waiting for the jump and the fall. Waiting for the moment when the ground would smash him into so many pieces as to leave him as nothing. Dugeno moved the mask back into place.

"Yeah, who are you?" the wagon driver looked at Hirrus suspiciously.

"Commander of the Night Marauders. I'm terribly sorry about his conduct. Fresh recruit. Come boy, a lashing for each offense given." Hirrus barked.

"He pretended to be nobility. That alone deserves ten lashes."

"Did he now? In our homeland, we have a far worse punishment for that transgression sir. It's called the peeler."

The wagoneer paled. Hirrus grabbed the reins of Dugeno's horse and moved them forward at speed away from the rear. Dugeno hunched his soldiers, trying to appear chastened, but he couldn't keep from sneering in victory, fortunately, hidden by the mask. That man was probably a swindler anyway, charging outrageous prices for defunct magic items. They quickly made their way to the middle of the caravan and slowed down beside a large supply wagon.

Hirrus removed the face mask and lowered his hood. "Alright, we should be okay here. What happened to not causing trouble? Milord."

Dugeno winced and studied the knight's features. The craggy olive-skinned face he'd seen thousands of times growing up looked more worn than usual, and the peppering of white on his friend and longtime mentor's hair only added to the effect. The normally warm brown gaze was shadowed with a look of overall fatigue; after all, their string of ill-luck could mostly be attributed to Dugeno. Hirrus never snapped at him or showed anger, but the disappointment cut deep enough to hurt. Therein lay the conundrum. He knew Hirrus should go back home, yet selfishly he never pushed hard enough to make him go.

"He impugned my honor." Dugeno began but then quieted for a while. The sun remained high overhead watching the sea of humans and animals moving slowly forward. Their horses kept pace with the caravan as they both waited for the pin to drop.

"Sorry." Dugeno finally said. It felt like a day hadn't passed since he last uttered that word. How can one man get so many chances? Why did Hirrus follow someone like him? Yet somehow, another chance was given. Hirrus guided his horse closer to Dugeno until they were in arms reach.

"It's fine milord. Here take this." a thick arm appeared out of the black cloak and dropped a bolon on Dugeno's lap. It was spherical, nearly a hand-span in size, and had a bark-like exterior which once removed revealed a sweet crystalline center.

"What's this for?"

"The Peeler. Use your knife." Hirrus smirked, and Dugeno relaxed. He unsheathed his knife and began the arduous process of unclothing a bolon. Dugeno glanced at the nearest mercenaries. Their departure from the rear guard hadn't caused any disturbances. A guard system had been put in place by the lead enchanter when they first set off. However, no one was taking it too seriously besides The Keepers and two other teams. The problem with hiring multiple mercenaries teams was that no one team could command any other team. a negligible problem normally. Good teams would demand a leader be nominated, even ones that hated each other. But the enchanters hadn't hired quality. They'd hired quantity, and the lack of a regimented guard system showed, fortunate for Dugeno. Though it spelled disastrous results in the event of an attack.

Having removed the bolon's skin, he raised it to his mouth. Hirrus coughed. Guiltily, Dugeno tossed the now fleshy pink fruit at Hirrus.

"No one seems to have noticed our absence. I bet these amateurs couldn't spot a Buranese war band." Dugeno said.

"As I recall, you couldn't find them breathing down our necks."

"I expected my knight to find those!"

"I'm old milord. eyes are going dim, minds wandering."

Drawing his belt knife, Hirrus cut the bolon in two, throwing one half to Dugeno, and chewing through his bolon with glee. Dugeno couldn't find a trace of senility in that smug mug.

"Someone will have to watch for danger. The companies likely stuck their greenest ones here so they can get their boots muddy before real deployments. Let's take the front." Hirrus said when they finished eating.

Reluctantly Dugeno agreed, increasing his horse's pace. They passed by other mercenaries and wagoneers. The former were just as Hirrus had suspected, which Dugeno couldn't fault. They were still in a relatively safe area. But the omens had been ill. Dugeno took off his hood and mask, revealing a soft-faced brown-skinned man still in his youth with striking gray, almost metallic, eyes. The Midnight Marauders had assigned them one senior member, but he was in Etreskee, a village two days north, meaning they didn't have to obey any protocols...yet. So long as they didn't cause any major disturbances, they'd be fine. Hirrus nodded in approval.

"If they want to be anonymous, they better start investing in enchanted masks," Hirrus said.

"I doubt the company will last that long. They took us after all. It’s like they didn’t even read our records." Dugeno scoffed.

Now was the time mercenary companies made their fortunes. There were two ongoing wars, maybe three if you counted Hezora, and incoming contracts flooded the market daily. Still, the reverse held true too, wars could be a companies downfall. The Midnight Marauders used to be an elite raiding group, but they had lost most of their veterans in the southern war. An attempt to go north and find easier pickings had effectively halved their already depleted fighting strength as they couldn't completely abandon their southern contracts.

Reaching the front, Dugeno saw Hirrus spoke the truth. Only two boys guarded the front, and they seemed content to simply watch the road rather than the trees or shrubs for lurking dangers.

"Midnight Marauders taking front guard position. Fall back you lot!" Hirrus barked. The two mercenaries jerked up and gave a Kalatian salute which Dugeno found amusing, and a young woman on the wagon was startled out of her reading reverie. The wagon driver simply looked at them and smiled. He'd have bet that man would've let him rest in the wagon and been delighted for the company. But, Hirrus was in his gruff officer mode, so he refrained.

"It was nice meeting you two, Hegel, Sorkin." the wagoneer tipped his head at the youths, and they fell back. The woman gave Dugeno and Hirrus an irked look. What can you do? He tried to convey with a shrug. Hirrus and Dugeno took positions next to the wagon, Dugeno taking the left side and Hirrus the right, keeping a relaxed but ready stance. It was time for them to earn their keep.

This area wasn't deeply forested; however, the small hills and scattering of foliage did leave many openings for ambushes which would mean a constant vigil was necessary. This would be good practice for the journey to come. The road to Ceren wasn’t going to be easy, and for some reason, no one but them had realized that. Dugeno’s hand tensed, recalling the vivid sounds of war. At least there was one thing left in the world he was good at.