Ruri gazed at Hadrian with a wary eye. They were near the city gates with three caravans full of mercenaries and another eight on horseback. She and her Young MIss were in the middle of the group and sitting inside their carriage while the man was barking orders at his men.

 

She studied him intently. The man known as Hadrian could only be described as dark. His hair, his clothes, the way he carried himself. He didn’t seem to give off a sense of violence so much as carry an aura that said he could walk calmly through a raging battlefield and kill with chilling indifference.

 

He wasn’t young and yet not old either. He was perhaps in his early thirties and very handsome. High cheekbones led to eyes as sharp and mesmerising as a hawk’s and callused hands lightly sprinkled with tiny scars made way to forearms that were thick and filled with power. He was a very fit man, she noted. And tall. So much so that it was like he bore down on her each time he drew near, and that terrified her. 

 

She didn’t trust him. He was a killer.

 

Yes, he had also killed on the orders of her Young Miss, but the girl had been  desperate and only resorted to such tactics because she was deathly afraid of being discovered. She’d even thrown up as things calmed and she had time to fully understand what she’d done. 

 

Yes, Ruri could understand and forgive Phaedra for being merciless because at least she was regretful. But Hadrian? He took to death like a fish to water, it seemed. That made him a good mercenary, she supposed, but she didn’t respect people who were beholden to coin. Soldiers, if nothing else, fought for their home and country. Mercenaries? They fought for the satisfaction of their own greed. 

 

Who knew whether the men here would turn on them if they were paid more to?

 

That’s why she couldn’t feel safe with them. Especially not with Hadrian.

 

“Everyone’s ready. Let’s move.” Hadrian ascended his horse in one fluid motion. He pulled up to their carriage as their party began to move and knocked on the window. 

 

“Where to?” He asked.

 

“Winston.” Phaedra replied. It was a sizeable town to the west, near the very center of the continent. Beyond their Kingdom. Far beyond. It was also one of the oldest towns, rich in history. A nice place for tourism. People came and went every day. 

 

“That will be a long journey. A month by land, at least. We could take a boat upriver, save a few days.” 

 

“No need. I’m not in a rush.”  Phaedra still kept up her disguise and wouldn’t take it off until they were at least a good distance from the city.

 

“As you please.” And he didn’t speak more on the matter. Hadrian drifted slightly away. He’d flicked his gaze to the side for a bried moment before shaking his head in dismissal. He had felt eyes on him for a while now. That Ruri girl. She didn’t like him. 

 

It was of no consequence. 

 

He shouted for the lead caravan to pick up it’s pace and then they were truly on their way.

 

***

 

They’d left in the dead of night and by the time they’d gotten far enough from civilization for their employer to show her true face the sun had already begun to peek from the mountains. Hadrian stopped them. They’d rode for hours now and though it wasn’t a hard journey, just sitting exhausted you. HIs men needed a break, time to stretch their legs. Take a piss or shit, maybe. 

 

“Halt!” He shouted. “We’ll rest here for now. Everyone get down.” They’d parked at a dirt road and created a perimeter. He sent scouts to survey the area and make sure there were no bandits nearby. This place usually didn’t have them as it was still close to the city, but it was better to be safe.

 

He descended his horse and knocked on the window to his boss’ carriage. He got no answer and entered without preamble. He found the girls asleep with each other’s heads leaning one against the other. He clapped loudly twice, startling them awake.

 

“We’ve stopped. Breakfast will be ready shortly. Get out.”

 

They’d move out again after a couple hours. Once their bellies were full and they’d had their fun.  The two girls nodded and yawned. They craned their necks, sore from the odd posture they’d slept in, and followed him out. 

 

“Murtagh.”  Hadrian called. A mammoth of a man came up to him. He wore black, plated  gambeson and had a beard tied with a strip of leather. Sunkissed skin and a jovial glint to his eye belied the violence he was capable of. 

 

“Boss.” The mountain-like mercenary greeted.

 

“I want you to stay with these two while I set up our kitchen.” Hadrian was the only one among them who could cook without the meal ending up inedible char. They usually munched on jerky, cheese and stale bread. But somehow he didn’t think the ladies would care for such delicacies.

 

“Aye, can do.” A two-fingered salute. Hadrian nodded and stalked off. 

 

He gathered some rocks and placed them into a circle. Placing dried wood in the center and striking his flint, he easily started a fire. He waited for it to burn hot and then placed a metal tripod over the fire. He hung a sizeable pot on it and filled it with water alongside bite-sized meat, an onion and a couple chopped potatoes.

 

Next he took out another large pot from one of the caravans. Inside was portable soup. A kind of solidified broth he kept for whenever they were going to make long journeys. It was good for making a fast soup. All he had to do was place it in some water along with the other ingredients and wait for everything to cook through. It was simple, efficient. Best of all, pretty delicious. 

 

He didn’t bother cooking for his men very often, but when he did it was always a treat. Now, however, he only focused on appeasing his little golden goose. The others wouldn’t eat very much anyway. They’d had their fill before they left and often times they kept eating to a minimum while on the road.

 

You never knew when a fight might break out and it was pretty hard to focus on battle when you had to defecate or drain the snake. Of course, many would choose to void their bowels there and then if it meant surviving. But fighting with soiled trousers was equally distracting, and uncomfortable.

 

Knights, for example, often did that. It was hard to get out of that armor quickly so they would be forced to relieve themselves even if during combat. In fact, they were trained for that. Learning how to piss and shit yourself and still be battle-focused was one of the first things they were taught how to do. It was just one of those sordid realities that no one liked to talk about.

 

Once the stew was well on its way to completion he made his way back to his employer and found the girl petting his horse. 

 

“I think he likes you.” Hadrian observed. 

 

“He’s a pretty handsome beast.” Phaedra replied. A real monster. You could tell this was a horse bred for war. He didn’t have very long legs, but they were strong. The fact that he was closer to the ground meant only that he had better stability. And his body, it stretched on and on, muscles bulging everywhere. It had an even temperament and intelligent eyes that sparkled with curiosity. 

 

“What’s his name?” She asked. 

 

“Roach.”

 

Faye blanched. “That’s a terrible name. How does he resemble a roach?” It was an insult, an insult, she says!

 

“He’s a tough bastard. That’s how.” Hadrian shrugged. “At this point I’m not sure if he’s a horse or a cat, he has so many lives.”

 

Roach lightly nipped at his hair, as if made indignant by his words. Hadrian swatted him away before running a hand under his chin. “Brat.” He snorted.

 

Faye grinned a bit. “You seem to have a good relationship.” 

 

“I would sell him for a chicken sandwhich.” Hadrian spoke drily, which earned him a headbut from his steed. 

 

She laughed. “I’ll make you one, so hand him over.” She held out her palm. 

 

Hadrian ignored her and walked away.

 

“No deal then?” She called out. 

 

Shame. 

 

Where did Ruri get to?