We left at first light with Sael's escort.
Six men, as promised. Well-armed, silent, and efficient in the way that spoke of professional training rather than hired muscle. They rode in a loose formation around our small group, eyes on the tree line, hands never far from their weapons. Sael rode at the front with me and Joss. Maer kept to the rear, occasionally dropping back to check our trail.
The morning was cold and clear, the kind of cold that made your breath hang in the air and your fingers ache even through gloves. The road curved south through rolling hills, patches of snow clinging to the shadows where the sun hadn't reached. We passed a burned farmstead around midday, the timbers blackened and collapsed, the fields overgrown with weeds.
I slowed my horse.
"How long?" I asked Joss.
He studied the ruins. "Months. Maybe half a year. See how the wood's weathered? And the snow's settled in the foundation."
"Border raid?"
"Probably."
Sael rode up beside us. "There are a dozen like this between here and Cerasis. The raids have been getting bolder. Closer to the trade routes."
"And no one's done anything about it," I said.
"The Crown sends patrols occasionally. But the borderlands are vast, Captain, and the garrison at Kellmar is understaffed. By the time they arrive, the raiders are gone and the villages are ash." He glanced at the farmstead. "That's why your folio matters. If you can prove the raids are coordinated, that there's profit behind them, the Crown will have to act."
"If they believe me."
"They will. With the right presentation."
I didn't answer. I urged my horse forward, and the others followed.
***
We reached the next waypoint by late afternoon. Not a proper waystation this time, just a travelers' rest. A low stone structure built into the hillside, with a covered area for horses and a cistern that collected rainwater. The fire pit in the center was cold, but someone had stacked wood nearby.
"We'll stop here for the night," Sael said, dismounting. "It's defensible, and we're still a day out from the next town."
I nodded and swung down from my horse. My shoulder throbbed, a dull ache that had gotten worse as the day wore on. I tried not to favor it as I unsaddled my mount, but Maer noticed anyway.
"Let me check that," he said, appearing at my elbow.
"It's fine."
"It wasn't fine this morning, and riding all day didn't help." He gestured toward the shelter. "Sit. It'll take five minutes."
I glanced at Joss. He was already tending the horses, deliberately not looking at us. No help there.
I sighed and walked to the shelter, dropping onto one of the stone benches that lined the wall. Maer followed, setting his satchel down beside me and pulling out the same vial of pine resin he'd used the day before.
"Coat off," he said.
I shrugged out of my coat and tunic, down to the linen shift beneath. The bandage was still clean, no blood seeping through, but when Maer unwrapped it, I saw the edges of the wound were red and slightly swollen.
"It's inflamed," he said. "Not infected yet, but close. You should've told me it was hurting."
"It wasn't that bad."
"It will be if you don't take care of it." He cleaned the wound with the resin, his touch careful and methodical. I watched his hands as he worked. Steady. Confident. The hands of someone who'd done this a hundred times before.
"You said you were a scout," I said.
"I am. But I trained as a field medic first. Scouts get hurt a lot. Makes sense to know how to patch yourself up."
"Kellmar garrison?"
"For a few years. Before that, I moved around. Wherever the work was." He tied off a fresh bandage and sat back. "There. That should hold. But if it starts to hurt worse, or if you get a fever, you tell me immediately. Understood?"
"Understood."
He handed me my tunic and I pulled it back on, wincing as the fabric brushed the bandage. Maer watched me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Not pity, exactly. Something softer.
"You're not used to being taken care of," he said.
"I'm used to taking care of myself."
"That's not the same thing."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. I reached for my coat, but Maer's hand caught mine, stopping me.
"Ryn," he said quietly. "You don't have to carry everything alone."
I looked at him. At the scar on his jaw, the warmth in his eyes, the way his fingers rested lightly against mine. For a moment, I wanted to believe him. To let someone else shoulder some of the weight.
Then I pulled my hand back.
"Yes, I do," I said.
He didn't argue. He just nodded and stood, gathering his supplies. "I'll start the fire."
I watched him walk away, and something in my chest tightened. I ignored it.
***
Dinner was bread and dried meat, washed down with watered wine from Sael's supplies. The fire burned low and steady, casting long shadows across the shelter. The escort kept watch in shifts, two men at a time, while the rest of us ate in relative silence.
Sael eventually broke it.
"We should talk about the waypoint tomorrow," he said, looking at me. "It's a proper town. Merill's Cross. Big enough to have a magistrate's office and a garrison outpost."
"What about it?"
"It's also where the road forks. North route stays close to the border. South route cuts through the interior, safer but longer. We'll need to decide which one to take."
"The north route," I said immediately. "It's faster."
"It's also more exposed. If whoever sent those mercenaries wants another try, that's where they'll do it."
"Then we'll be ready."
Sael leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Captain, I understand your urgency. But if you're dead, the folio doesn't reach Cerasis. If the folio doesn't reach Cerasis, nothing changes. Sometimes the slower route is the smarter one."
I looked at Joss. He was watching me carefully, his expression neutral.
"What do you think?" I asked him.
"I think we've been lucky so far," he said. "But luck runs out. If Sael's right and the north route is where they'll hit us again, we should at least be prepared for it."
"We're always prepared."
"Ryn." Joss's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it. "We lost Harven. We nearly lost you. I'm not saying we run, but I am saying we don't need to make it easy for them."
I stared into the fire, turning his words over. He wasn't wrong. The north route was faster, but it was also more dangerous. Open stretches with fewer places to take cover. Fewer settlements to call for help if things went wrong.
But the south route would add three days to our journey. Three more days for whoever was watching us to plan. Three more days for the folio to stay undelivered.
"We'll decide in Merill's Cross," I said finally. "After we see what the garrison knows."
Sael nodded. "Fair enough."
The conversation drifted after that. Sael talked about Cerasis, the court politics, the great houses and their endless maneuvers for influence. I listened with half an ear, more interested in watching his face than his words. He was good at this, I realized. At making himself seem useful. Necessary. The kind of man who could talk his way into or out of almost anything.
I wondered what he was hiding.
***
I took the first watch with one of Sael's men, a quiet soldier named Terris who spoke only when spoken to. The night was still and cold, the stars sharp overhead. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called, low and mournful.
I sat with my back against the stone wall, sword across my lap, and pulled the Rothera token from my pocket. I'd been carrying it for two days now, and it had become a habit to turn it over in my fingers when I was thinking.
Gold. Soft metal, easy to work. The fox was detailed, though, the chains around it intricate. Expensive craftsmanship for what amounted to a payment marker. Unless the craftsmanship was the point. A way to ensure the tokens couldn't be easily forged.
House Rothera. Mercantile. Ties to half the great houses.
And someone in their employ had hired mercenaries to kill us.
The question was why. The folio implicated merchants and brokers, yes, but it was broad. It didn't name Rothera specifically, didn't single them out. So why risk a political hit unless they were more involved than the report suggested?
Unless they weren't the only ones involved.
I thought about the burned farmstead we'd passed. The raids getting bolder. Closer to the trade routes. If the raids were coordinated, if someone was using them to destabilize the border and profit from it, then it wasn't just one house. It was a network. Brokers, merchants, maybe even ministers in Cerasis who looked the other way in exchange for a cut.
And if that was true, then the ambush wasn't about stopping the folio. It was about stopping me.
I closed my hand around the token, feeling the metal warm against my palm.
"Can't sleep?"
I looked up. Maer stood at the edge of the firelight, his satchel slung over one shoulder.
"I'm on watch," I said.
"So am I. Terris asked me to swap." He sat down beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. "Thought you might want the company."
"I'm fine alone."
"I know. But sometimes fine isn't the same as better."
I glanced at him. He was looking at the fire, his profile sharp in the flickering light. The scar on his jaw caught the glow, a thin white line against his skin.
"You don't have to take care of me," I said.
"I know that too." He turned to look at me, and his expression was open, unguarded. "But I want to. Is that so hard to believe?"
Yes, I wanted to say. Because no one had ever wanted to take care of me before. Not like this. Not without expecting something in return.
Instead, I said, "Why?"
"Because you're worth it." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And because I think you've been carrying the weight of the world for so long, you've forgotten what it feels like to set it down."
Something in my chest cracked. Just a little. Just enough to hurt.
"I can't set it down," I said quietly. "Not until this is finished."
"I know. But maybe you don't have to carry it alone."
He reached out, slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I didn't, his hand covered mine, warm and steady.
We sat like that for a while, the fire crackling between us, the stars wheeling overhead. And for the first time since Harven died, I let myself feel something other than duty.
It didn't last. It couldn't. But for a moment, it was enough.
***
The next morning, we saddled up and rode for Merill's Cross. The town appeared on the horizon just before noon, a cluster of buildings spread across a low hill. Smoke rose from chimneys, and I could see people moving in the streets.
Normal. Ordinary. The kind of place where border raids felt distant and unreal.
I hoped they'd stay that way.
As we rode through the gates, a man in garrison colors stepped forward to greet us. He looked tired, his uniform worn at the edges.
"Captain Halvar?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Magistrate's been expecting you. This way."
We followed him through the streets to a stone building near the center of town. Inside, a middle-aged woman sat behind a desk covered in papers. She looked up when we entered, her eyes sharp and assessing.
"Captain Halvar," she said. "I received word you'd be passing through. I'm Magistrate Lenn."
"Magistrate." I inclined my head. "We're heading south to Cerasis. I was hoping you might have information about recent activity on the north route."
Her expression darkened. "You're not taking the north route."
"Why not?"
"Because three merchants tried it last week. Only one made it back. He said they were ambushed twenty miles north of here. Professional job. The attackers knew exactly where they'd be."
My hand went to the token in my pocket.
"Did the survivor say anything else?" I asked. "Describe the attackers? Mention who might've hired them?"
"No. He was in shock, barely coherent. But he did say one thing." She leaned forward. "He said one of the attackers was wearing a fox pendant. Gold."
The room went very still.
"Rothera," I said.
Magistrate Lenn nodded slowly. "That's what I thought too. But I can't prove it, and without proof, I can't act. If you're carrying something that threatens them, Captain, then the north route is suicide."
I looked at Joss. His jaw was tight, his hand resting on his sword hilt.
"We'll take the south route," I said.
Sael exhaled, relief flickering across his face.
"Smart choice," Magistrate Lenn said. "I'll have my clerk draw you a map. And Captain? Be careful. If Rothera's involved, they have reach. Even in Cerasis."
I nodded and turned to leave. But as I reached the door, I paused and looked back.
"Magistrate," I said. "When I reach the capital, I'm going to make sure everyone knows what's happening out here. I'm going to make sure they can't ignore it anymore."
She smiled, tired but genuine. "I hope you do, Captain. I really do."
We left Merill's Cross an hour later, heading south. The road was longer, the journey slower.
But we were still moving forward.
And I still had the token.