The noise of many feet from outside the window drew Haarlan Greenwood to his feet. His heart leaped at the sight of the soldiers piling through the gates, even though about a third of them appeared injured. With a quick flick of his wrist, he emptied the cup in his hand and left it on a side table before heading for the office door. Just as he reached the main entrance, a weathered looking man wearing armour and dust pushed the doors open and took a step inside.

"You must be Captain Holgrim," Haarlan said, extending a hand which the soldier shook briefly after saluting. "I glad you and your unit could make it."

"I am. And I'm guessing you're Lord Greenwood of the Silent Isle, and you're keen to get out of here."

While they spoke, Haarlan led the way back outside and began to walk back to the market area where the newly arrived soldiers waited, unsure where to put themselves.

"You're certainly halfway right, but there have been some complications along the way," Haarlan began, casting an eye over the wounded troops. "Ah. I see you've had your own share of difficulties. I presume you've encountered the Mantea on your way here."

"We did." Holgrim took a swallow from his canteen and hung it on his belt. "An ambush caught us partly by surprise around about noon. We managed to kill most of them and drive the rest off, but we've lost six and another ten are wounded, a couple of them pretty badly."

"You said 'partly' by surprise?" Haarlan raised an eyebrow, watching the captains face. The eyes showed tiredness and frustration.

"One of the boys near the back saw 'em coming and called it out. We weren't completely on the back foot when they broke cover, which is why we're still alive."

"I suggest you give your man a drink," Haarlan said with a grim smile, "because the Mantea are known for their silence and stealth. Few hear them coming, and even fewer live to tell the tale." He took a second look at the tired soldiers and came to a decision. "Have your men set up camp on the east side by the wall and let them rest, then come and join me in my borrowed office. The local healers will be able to care for the injured - they are very skilled."

Holgrim nodded and kicked his way through the dust back to his men. Haarlan returned to the main building, almost bumping into a servant who he sent to the kitchen for a pitcher of ale. Back in the office, he pulled out a notebook covered in pliable leather and looked over his notes with a frown. I was hoping for more than just fifty men, he mused, and a third of those are wounded. I'll have to make do.

The door opened and Holgrim appeared, some of the frustrated energy gone from his eyes and the blood and sweat now rinsed from his face. He began to salute but Haarlan shook his head and gestured to an empty chair.

"Please sit down, I can see you've had a lousy day. And besides, we're not at court in Patra, are we?"

The soldier managed a smile which widened when the ale appeared and a mug was thrust into his hand. Haarlan watched him drain the mug at a draught and sit back in his seat, at least partially revived.

"My orders were to come here and escort you back to the harbour so you could sail with us to the mainland," Holgrim began, "but you said there were complications. What sort of complications?"

"Very similar to yours," Haarlan said, sipping at his own ale. "Given the circumstances, I'm happy to give you more information relating to the mission I came here to accomplish. Secrecy at this stage will help no-one."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Holgrim nodded and leaned forward in his seat.

"The local government in Rostand requested that the Order help them with a smuggling problem. Normally we wouldn't involve ourselves in such a minor matter, especially overseas, but in this case we made an exception." Haarlan paused to drink and flip through his notes. "It seems that large quantities of high-value gemstones have been flooding the market over the last few months and no-one is entirely sure where they are coming from. The government is afraid that someone is either trying to take control of the market from legitimate traders, or trying to raise money for nefarious purposes."

"So, do you know who's behind it?"

"No, but I have my suspicions. It had been my intention to go north and explore Canthia, maybe ask a few questions, but that's where my problems started."

Haarlan saw Holgrim's eyes widen over the rim of his mug. He knew people saw the Order as some kind of infallible entity that would appear and make everything right. The truth was that, even with the training and resources the Order could provide, an agent was still very much on their own and had limitations just like anyone else.

"I can't get to Canthia alone," Haarlan said. "I set out on two separate occasions and both times I encountered the survivors from caravans that had been attacked. The second time I returned here with them and sent word that I needed some back-up."

"That surprises me," Holgrim said, and Haarlan could detect no sarcasm in his words. "I thought you guys were trained for this sort of thing."

"We are very well-trained, but I am only one man. The survivors told me that the Mantea have been attacking all travellers on the northward road. As a consequence, no-one has entered or left Canthia in over a month and I am doubtful that I'd get there by myself. Oh, I realise I could travel cross-country on the seaward side of the road," Haarlan waved a hand airily, "but I've heard enough stories about the Mantea to know that my chances would still be slim."

"And that's where my men and I come in,"

"Indeed. It's a three-day journey so we prepare for two nights of camping out. There are regularly used sites along the road that have basic defences already in place. I don't doubt that our hidden attackers are familiar with their locations, but it will still be safer than trying to build our own along the way."

"I can see the sense it it," Holgrim replied, chewing on the corner of his thumbnail. "How long is the march between sites?"

"The first day is a fair march and passes through a forested region. It gives way to low scrub where we can make our first stop. We should get there an hour or two hours before sunset. The second day is the longest but the terrain is largely open ground unsuited to ambush tactics. We should reach the campsite just as the sun goes down." While he was speaking, Haarlan unrolled a map and turned it to face Holgrim with his finger pointing at a small tent symbol by the road.

"If we don't need to pay as much attention to our surroundings, we should be able to pick up the pace," Holgrim suggested.

"We should still keep our eyes open but yes, we should be able to move quickly. The last leg takes us back into high grass and trees, but it's the shortest section and we should be in Canthia by early afternoon."

"What should we expect when we arrive?"

Haarlan held his hands, palm up, out to the sides. "Your guess is as good as mine. I've heard nothing since the last caravan got back here cut to ribbons."

Both men stared at the map. At length, Holgrim emptied his cup and leaned back in his chair.

"Other than the six men I've lost, I've got nine, maybe ten too wounded to travel. I presume they can be billeted here?"

"Yes, that will be fine. I hope the others are hardy types because I'm convinced we're going to run into trouble. And if you've got one or two with sharp eyes, I hope they're coming with us."

Holgrim shifted in his seat. "The guy who spotted our ambush took a spear in the side. He's still upright though, and he's a proper Southerner. I'll see if he's fit enough to come along."

"No pressure on him please. An unwilling horse is more trouble than going on foot,"

"Ain't that the truth?" Holgrim rose and offered his hand. Haarlan shook it with genuine warmth.

"I'm grateful for your help, Captain. I suggest we leave the day after tomorrow. That way your men will have time to prepare their equipment and rest."

"I'll see to it."

Haarlan watched the door close, then turned his attention back to the map. No matter how he looked at it, there was no way of shortening the journey. Donkeys and oxen were the main beasts of burden on the island rather than horses, and there was no chance of scavenging up enough for a troop of soldiers. They would simply have to walk.

He thumbed through his notebook, studying the information he'd gleaned from Rastanto's officials and the last surviving traders.

"I'll find you, my friend," he whispered under his breath, closing the book.