As the battle ended, the rush of adrenaline slowly faded.
Red Crow corpses covered the ground. Burned feathers and broken wings lay scattered across the battlefield.
The smell of blood and scorched feathers filled the air.
Paul suddenly turned away and vomited behind a wagon.
Even though he was the healer, the sight of the battlefield was still too much.
Maria walked over and patted his back while the others dragged the injured closer to the campfire.
Nearby, Ron and Rany were shouting at the merchants.
The argument was loud enough for half the camp to hear.
And honestly… I understood why.
First bandits.
Then monsters.
Once could be coincidence.
Twice felt suspicious.
The merchants were clearly hiding something, but none of us wanted to push them too far right now. This job was already dangerous enough.
After a while, Saul walked toward me.
"You alright?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Nice shooting back there," he said. "Are you the main archer?"
"Not really," I replied. "My mentor just drilled archery into me."
Saul laughed softly.
"That explains it."
We talked for a moment, but my mind was somewhere else.
Why did the Black Eagle retreat?
Why were the Red Crows willing to die instead of fleeing?
Something about that battle felt wrong.
But the question that bothered me the most was something else entirely.
The magic Khaun used.
Back in the castle, my maternal grandfather had tried to teach me about magic. He explained the basic types and ranges of spells.
Wind magic usually focused on air arrows and wind slices.
Air arrows compressed wind into a small projectile.
Wind slices formed curved blades of cutting air.
But Khaun's spell looked different.
It moved like a wind slice but struck with the precision of an air arrow.
Almost like a mixture of both.
No matter how hard I tried to remember my grandfather's lessons, I couldn't recall a spell like that.
I wanted to ask him about it.
But the atmosphere in camp wasn't good right now.
The healer Paul was still treating Rahuan, whose face and shoulder were cut badly by the eagle's claws.
As night fell, word spread across the camp.
Our payment had been increased.
It seemed Ron and Rany's shouting had accomplished something after all.
After dinner, I walked toward Khaun.
He wasn't sitting with the rest of us. Instead, he sat alone near a small fire with a mug in his hand.
When I approached, he turned his head toward me immediately.
"You alright?" I asked.
"I'm fine," he replied.
I hesitated for a moment before asking about the magic.
Before I could speak, he held out a mug.
"Do you drink?"
"No."
"Good," he said. "Then this will be your first."
He poured a dark liquid into the mug and handed it to me.
I took a small sip.
Then immediately spat it out.
"What is this?"
He smirked.
"The drink that turns boys into men."
"Beer."
I grimaced.
"I don't like it."
"No one does at first."
I set the mug down.
"The spell you used earlier," I asked. "What was it?"
Khaun stared at me for a moment.
"Do you think a magician shares his secrets freely?" he asked.
I stayed silent.
"There's a saying," he continued. "A magician would sell his own soul for gold."
I frowned.
"Do magicians really need that much gold?"
Khaun chuckled.
"You're young."
I thought for a moment.
"Fine. I'll give you twenty percent of my share from this job if you explain it."
"Sixty," he replied instantly.
"Hell no."
"Thirty-five."
I sighed.
"Fine."
"But I won't teach you magic," he added. "I'll only explain what it is."
"That's enough."
Before leaving, I asked one last question.
"You seem stronger than most mages here. Why work for Bull Charge?"
Khaun shrugged.
"I need money. They need a mage."
"Simple."
The conversation ended there.
I returned to my tent.
Tomorrow we would finally reach a town.
Which meant one very important thing.
A real bed.
After three days on the road, that sounded perfect.
Elsewhere…
Inside a dim stone chamber, a tall woman stood before a fireplace.
Her long yellow hair reflected the orange flames, and her green dress flowed behind her as she stepped into the room.
Two servants carrying torches followed her.
Two guards stood nearby with drawn swords.
Four men waited inside the chamber.
She looked at them coldly.
"Did you kill him?"
The men lowered their heads.
"No."
Her voice rose with anger.
"Useless fools!"
"I gave you everything. The route. The timing. Everything!"
One of the men spoke carefully.
"Our bandits failed. But the monster attack should have worked."
He hesitated.
"The mercenaries were stronger than expected. Even the Black Eagle was injured."
"We couldn't recover it."
The woman's expression slowly became calm again.
"Leave it," she said quietly.
She tossed a small pouch toward the man.
He reached out to grab it.
Swoosh.
A blade flashed.
His head fell to the floor before his hand touched the pouch.
The woman smiled faintly.
"The pouch was your reward," she said.
"The gold… and your death."