We left at dawn, the sky still painted in shades of grey and pale orange as the sun struggled over the horizon.
Victor had been waiting by the carriage when I arrived, his expression dark and promising violence.
He’d dismissed the driver imdiately, apparently we were riding on horseback instead. Faster, more direct, and conveniently isolated from witnesses.
"Let be clear," Victor said as I climbed onto the horse they’d prepared for . "I’m going to beat you to shit for that stunt you pulled with Cedric."
I adjusted my grip on the reins, keeping my expression neutral. "Okay."
"Okay?" He raised an eyebrow. "That’s all you have to say?"
"What else is there to say? You’re going to do what you’re going to do." I t his eyes steadily. "I’m ready when you are."
We’ll see how that goes.
Victor’s jaw tightened, clearly unsatisfied with my lack of reaction. But he didn’t press further, just spurred his horse forward.
I followed, settling into the rhythm of travel.
The journey to Greyford took most of the day.
We rode through the familiar countryside of the Valorian Kingdom, rolling hills dotted with farms, forests of oak and pine, small villages where people paused their work to watch two nobles pass by on fine horses. The roads were well-maintained this close to major settlents, packed dirt worn smooth by rchant caravans and military patrols.
Victor didn’t make good on his threat. Not yet. He rode in silence, occasionally checking the map, his mind clearly elsewhere, probably on his duties with the Knights rather than babysitting his disappointnt of a brother.
I didn’t mind the quiet. It gave ti to think, to plan, to figure out how the hell I was going to search for Agnes while Victor was watching my every move.
By late afternoon after two days of travel... Greyford ca into view.
It sprawled across the landscape like sothing out of a fantasy painting, one of the largest towns in the Valorian Kingdom, second only to the capital itself. Stone walls encircled the outer districts, tall enough to repel raiders but not so imposing as to feel fortress-like.
Guard towers stood at regular intervals, flags bearing the kingdom’s crest, a silver sword crossed with an oak branch, snapping in the wind.
Beyond the walls, I could see the town proper: multi-story buildings packed close together, their roofs a mixture of red tile and dark slate.
Church spires rose above the general sprawl, and in the distance, I could make out what looked like a large marketplace, canvas awnings creating a sea of color.
Smoke rose from countless chimneys. The sounds of civilization drifted toward us even from this distance, bells ringing, distant shouts, the general hum of thousands of people going about their lives.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Finding one person in a town this size, while also avoiding Victor’s attention, was going to take actual planning.
We approached the main gate, a massive archway flanked by guards in polished armor. They moved to intercept us, hands resting on sword hilts, but Victor was already reaching into his coat.
He pulled out a badge, silver and intricately engraved, catching the afternoon light.
"Vice Captain Victor Raith," he announced, his voice carrying the authority of soone used to being obeyed. "Ashfeld Knights, Second Division."
The guards’ postures shifted imdiately from wary to respectful. One of them stepped forward, examining the badge briefly before nodding.
"Vice Captain. Welco back to Greyford." He gestured to his companion. "Open the gate."
The heavy iron gate swung inward with a groan of tal on tal.
Victor urged his horse forward without acknowledging the guards further. I followed, noting the way people on the streets imdiately made way for him, recognizing the badge and uniform even from a distance.
So he’s actually important here.
We rode through the main thoroughfare, past shops and taverns, past street vendors hawking everything from fresh bread to questionable-looking magical charms.
The crowd was thick, diverse, humans mostly, but I spotted a few elves moving through the press, their pointed ears marking them even in the chaos.
A group of beastkin stood near a blacksmith’s shop, their animal features drawing occasional glances from passersby.
Victor pulled out a piece of paper from his saddlebag, checking an address written in Father’s precise handwriting.
The supplier’s location. The whole reason we’re supposedly here.
He compared it to the street signs, his brow furrowing slightly.
"This way," he said, turning his horse down a side street.
I followed, my mind racing.
Okay. Fuck. What now? How do I get him away from this?
Victor was focused on the paper, navigating through increasingly narrow streets as we moved deeper into what looked like the rchant district. Buildings pressed close together here, their upper stories nearly touching overhead, creating tunnels of shadow even in late afternoon.
I need a distraction.
The problem was, I didn’t know Greyford well enough to improvise effectively. I had no contacts here, no resources, no way to manipulate the situation without it being obviously my fault.
Think. There has to be sothing.
Victor stopped his horse in front of a modest shop: "Harren’s Academic Supplies" according to the weathered sign above the door.
"Here," he said, dismounting. "Wait with the horses."
He tied his reins to a post and headed inside without waiting for my response.
I sat on my horse, watching the door close behind him, my mind still churning through possibilities.
The street around continued its normal flow, rchants closing up shop for the evening, custors hurrying ho before dark, a few street children darting between adults with the practiced ease of professional pickpockets.
And then I saw her.
Just a glimpse, brown hair tied back in a practical braid, worn servant’s dress, carrying a basket of what looked like laundry or supplies.
She turned down an alley two buildings away, disappearing from view.
My heart jumped.
Was that...?
No way... it couldn’t be.
But I was already dismounting, tying my horse next to Victor’s with hands that moved faster than my brain could catch up.
I glanced at the shop door, still closed, Victor presumably inside interrogating the poor rchant about textbook authenticity.
Then I started walking quickly toward the alley, my hand instinctively checking that my sword was secure at my hip.
Please let this not be another stupid decision.
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