The forest road stretched ahead, winding through stands of pine and oak that cast dappled shadows across the packed earth. Two days had passed since the goblin attack, and the tension between the two groups had begun to ease—though not entirely fade.
Adrian rode at the head of his small party, Edric Halborne's carriage creaking along behind him, flanked by the surviving escorts. The mood was subdued. The bodies of the fallen guards had been wrapped and secured to the wagon, their families to be notified once they reached the capital. Every creak of the wheels seemed to echo with the weight of loss.
Edric rode his horse alongside Adrian now, having abandoned the damaged carriage for a mount. His fine clothes were still stained with dirt and ichor, though he'd done his best to clean them. The silver stag on his chest caught the afternoon light as he glanced sideways at Adrian.
"You're quiet," Edric said, breaking the silence that had stretched for miles. "Most nobles I know would be bragging about slaying a goblin general by now."
Adrian's gray eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. "Bragging doesn't make the dead any less dead."
The bluntness of it made Edric wince, but he pressed on. "No, I suppose not. Still... what you did back there. That crimson flame." He lowered his voice, mindful of the escorts behind them. "I've never seen anything like it. Not in any text, any teaching."
"Good," Adrian said flatly.
Edric frowned. "Good?"
"The less people know, the fewer questions I have to answer." Adrian's tone carried a weight that discouraged further inquiry, but Edric seemed unable to help himself.
"But surely the Knight Trials will—"
"The Trials will show what they need to see," Adrian interrupted, his voice calm but final. "Nothing more."
Edric fell silent for a moment, studying the Blackthorn heir with renewed curiosity. There was something unsettling about Adrian's composure, as though he carried decades of experience in a fifteen-year-old body. Finally, Edric shifted topics.
"Your family... House Blackthorn. You truly didn't know House Halborne?" There was less pride in his voice now, more genuine curiosity.
Adrian shook his head. "My father taught me about demons, not grain merchants." He glanced at Edric. "No offense intended. But at Northwatch, we care about what can kill us, not what feeds us. One is immediate, the other..." He gestured vaguely. "Someone else's concern."
Edric's jaw tightened. "And yet without 'grain merchants,' your fortress would starve within a month. Your soldiers would have no bread, no strength to hold your precious walls."
For the first time, Adrian's expression shifted—a faint acknowledgment in his eyes. "You're right. I misspoke." He paused, then added with surprising sincerity, "Without the Halbornes, Northwatch falls not to demons but to hunger. That's... a weapon I hadn't fully considered."
The admission seemed to catch Edric off guard. His defensive posture eased slightly. "Most border lords think as you did. They see grain as beneath them, something peasants worry about while they polish their swords." He smiled faintly. "My father used to say: 'A knight without food is just a corpse waiting to fall over.'"
Adrian's lips curved slightly. "Your father sounds practical."
"He is. And proud of it." Edric's expression softened with memory. "When I told him I wanted to try for knighthood, he said: 'Go then. Show them a farmer's son can swing steel as well as any lord's boy. But remember—you're a Halborne. Never be ashamed of the dirt under your nails.'"
"Wise words," Adrian said quietly.
They rode in more comfortable silence for a time. The road began to descend, opening to reveal sprawling fields in the distance—golden wheat swaying in the breeze, orchards heavy with late summer fruit. Edric straightened in his saddle, pride evident in his posture.
"Halborne lands," he said. "Some of them, anyway. We hold estates across three provinces. These fields feed half the capital."
Adrian surveyed the landscape with new eyes. Rows upon rows of cultivation stretched to the horizon, dotted with farmhouses and mills. It was a different kind of fortress—one built not of stone but of soil and sweat.
"Impressive," Adrian admitted. "At Northwatch, we can barely grow enough to sustain ourselves. The ground is too rocky, the weather too harsh."
"Then you understand now," Edric said. "This is our battlefield. While you hold demons at bay with steel, we hold starvation at bay with wheat. Both are necessary. Both require sacrifice."
Adrian nodded slowly. "I'm beginning to see that."
As afternoon stretched toward evening, they passed through a small village—one of many that dotted the Halborne estates. Children ran alongside their horses, shouting and laughing. Adults bowed respectfully as Edric passed, calling out blessings on House Halborne. The young heir waved back, his face brightening with genuine warmth.
"They know you," Adrian observed.
"Of course. I grew up visiting these villages with my father. Helped with harvests, learned to work the mills." Edric's smile was unguarded now. "My older brothers mock me for it. They say a noble shouldn't dirty his hands with common labor. But Father says a lord who doesn't understand his people's work has no business ruling them."
"Your father sounds like someone worth meeting," Adrian said.
"Perhaps at the Trials. He'll be there, I'm certain." Edric paused, then added more quietly, "Will yours?"
Adrian's jaw tightened slightly. "Baron Dorian rarely leaves Northwatch. The border doesn't guard itself."
"But for the Trials—"
"Maybe." Adrian's tone suggested the conversation was closed, and this time Edric respected it.
As twilight deepened, the two young nobles found themselves at an inn on the outskirts of another village. The escorts set about securing lodging while Adrian and Edric tended to their horses in the stable.
"Adrian," Edric said as he brushed down his mount. "About what I said earlier. The comment about showing you that Halborne blood can fight and farm."
Adrian glanced over.
"I meant it," Edric continued, "but not as an insult. I want to prove myself at the Trials. Not just for my family's honor, but for my own." He met Adrian's gaze steadily. "When our names are drawn—if they're drawn against each other—I want you to know I'll give everything I have."
Adrian studied him for a long moment. There was no arrogance in Edric's words now, only honest determination. He gave a single nod.
"Then I'll look forward to it."
As they left the stable, the inn's warm light spilling into the courtyard, Edric called out: "Adrian?"
Adrian turned.
"Thank you. For saving us on the road. Whatever that crimson flame is... I'm glad it burned for us, not against us."
Adrian's expression remained unreadable, but something in his eyes softened just slightly. "Get some rest, Halborne. Arathor is still two days' ride, and if my experience holds, the road never stays quiet for long."
As if summoned by his words, a wolf howled in the distant forest, its cry echoing across the fields. Both young men tensed, hands moving instinctively to their sword hilts.
But the night remained still.
Tomorrow, they would continue toward Arathor. Tomorrow, their paths would lead them closer to the Knight Trials and whatever destiny awaited.
But tonight, two heirs from vastly different worlds had begun to understand one another.
And perhaps, despite everything, had begun the first threads of an unlikely friendship.