The news of the summons took a while to settle over the camp.
Rodric and Selena entered the main tent and closed the flap behind them. No one followed. Perta stood still for a moment, wooden spoon suspended in midair as though she had forgotten what she was doing. Atreus, near the fire, stared at the tent entrance with an expression that was not quite curiosity—it was something more restrained, almost wary. The twins exchanged a look filled with questions they did not know how to put into words, and even Thornin, who rarely interrupted his work because of someone else's conversation, kept his hammer resting on the anvil for a long minute.
Akel remained beside the horse pen. His hand still rested on the horse's neck, the animal having lowered its head to graze. The afternoon wind carried the scent of dust and dry grass. He watched the restrained agitation of the camp without moving, allowing the pieces to settle on their own inside him.
This was not merely a letter in response. An official messenger wearing a tabard, carrying a wax seal and an explicit summons meant that the Levis' petition had already passed through some earlier stage. They were not merely mercenaries trying to open doors. They were mercenaries who had been called to speak with someone who could just as easily close those doors for good.
Bjorn leaned against the fence beside Akel, his arms crossed.
"Did you know this was going to happen?"
Akel did not answer immediately.
"I didn't know about the summons. But I knew Rodric wasn't after ordinary contracts."
"He isn't. Neither is Selena."
"And you?"
Bjorn turned his head, his pale eyes reflecting the fading afternoon light.
"I want the company to grow. But I don't want us to become a noble's tool."
"Every company is someone's tool."
"Maybe. But a Spear is different."
"Why?"
Bjorn hesitated. Then he looked toward the city rising in the distance, the towers of Alfra cutting into the sky.
"Because a Spear of Umbria can't simply refuse a job. It has to protect whoever the government orders it to protect. Investigate whatever the government orders it to investigate. And sometimes... look the other way."
Akel followed his companion's gaze.
"And the Levis still haven't decided whether they're willing to do that."
"No. But the summons has arrived."
"Then they'll have to decide quickly."
"Twenty-two days isn't quickly. It's an eternity."
"Not for a camp."
Bjorn gave him a faint smile.
"Yeah. You're right."
Silence began to grow between them again. The afternoon slowly descended, bathing the tents in pale yellow. The mercenaries who had been training began putting away their wooden weapons. The twins wandered toward the creek to wash their hands. Perta returned to stirring the stew, and the smell of it filled the air once more.
"I'm taking the horses to drink," Akel said, more to himself than to Bjorn.
"I'll help."
"You don't have to."
"I know. But I want to get out of the camp for a while. The smell of the forge is giving me a headache."
The two took the reins and led the animals toward the creek. The water flowed calmly at that hour, dark and cold, reflecting the last streaks of light. The horses lowered their heads in unison, and the sound of water breaking against their muzzles was soft, almost hypnotic.
"Carina asked about you again," Bjorn said without looking at him.
"She saw me today."
"I know. But she asked before you came back."
"And what did you tell her?"
"That you were alive."
"That's all?"
Bjorn bit the corner of his mouth.
"Maybe I said you still walk like you're carrying an invisible anvil on your back."
Akel looked down at the water.
"And her?"
"She said you've always been like that. And that maybe the anvil is the only thing keeping you from flying away for good."
Akel did not answer.
The horses finished drinking. He ran a hand over his mount's head and led it back toward the pen.
When they returned, the camp was quieter. Night was beginning to settle in, and the fires cast warm circles of light across the earth. Perta distributed the stew in silence, and everyone took their bowls without ceremony. Rodric and Selena still had not emerged from the tent.
Akel ate sitting on a pile of wood. The stew was hearty, properly salted, and the bread Perta had left beside him was still warm. With every mouthful of broth, he felt his body asking for more, as though the food were bringing him back to a rhythm that the months on the road had erased.
Perk and Pirk sat nearby, their bowls balanced on their knees.
"Do you think we're going to need new armor?" Pirk asked.
Akel looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because of the meeting. So we look important."
"You're not going to the meeting."
"We know. But if the company gets recognized, maybe we'll have to dress better."
Perk shook his head.
"I just want a new boot. Mine still has mud from the Mirior camp."
"Wash it."
"It won't come out. It's swamp mud. It has a will of its own."
Pirk nodded solemnly.
"Swamp mud is like that. It gets into the leather and stays there forever. Thornin once said he had to burn a boot because of it."
"Thornin never burned any boot," Rurik interrupted, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "He sold the boot to a peddler and passed it off as leather cured over oakwood fire."
"Is that true?" Perk asked.
"That's what I would have done."
Pirk scratched his chin.
"Then I need a boot made of oak-fire leather."
"You need common sense," Perta said as she passed them. "And another bundle of firewood."
"We already fetched wood this morning!" Pirk protested.
"And you'll fetch it again tomorrow. Fire doesn't feed on conversation."
Rurik chuckled and dipped his bread into the stew. Akel watched the scene in silence, the warm bowl between his hands.
The night deepened.
Stars appeared behind thin clouds, and the cold wind descended from the hills, making the tent flaps snap. Gradually, the mercenaries began retiring. Perta put away the pots. Bjorn doused the remains of the forge with a bucket of water, and steam rose with a hiss into the darkness. The twins disappeared into the recruits' tent. Elbi folded the canvas awning and stored the box of documents without making a sound.
Akel remained outside, one hand resting loosely over the hilt of his dagger. It was not a watch. It was simply that old difficulty of lying down while the world still felt too vast around him.
That was when he saw Selena leave the main tent.
She came out with her boots untied and a cup of tea in her hands. She walked toward the fire, sat on a bench, and stretched out her legs. Her dark eyes were tired but alert, and the line of her mouth retained the firmness that rarely left her.
"You should be sleeping," she said without looking at Akel.
"So should you."
"I have an excuse. I'm getting old."
"You look strong enough to beat a man at arm wrestling."
Selena laughed softly.
"I can beat two if they're bothering me."
Akel approached and sat on the bench beside her without hurry.
"Is Rodric still awake?" he asked.
"He's looking over the maps. Says thinking on a full stomach makes it harder to sleep."
"Did he eat?"
"A little. Enough to keep Perta from complaining."
Silence settled between them again. The fire crackled softly, sending brief sparks into the air that died almost immediately.
"Is he worried?" Akel asked.
Selena took a sip of tea before answering.
"He is."
"About the meeting?"
"About what the meeting is going to demand from us."
Akel looked toward the flames.
"And you?"
Selena tilted her head, her eyes reflecting the fire.
"I'm angry."
"Why?"
"Because I know we deserve this chance. And because I know having to prove ourselves all over again is humiliating."
Akel remained silent.
"It's not just about contracts," she continued. "It's about not letting the Pardas decide who we are before the hearing even begins."
"You think they'll try to influence the nobles."
"They've been trying for months."
"And what can we do?"
Selena turned her face toward him.
"For now, nothing. Just watch. And don't give them a reason to accuse us of anything worse than what they're already spreading."
Akel nodded.
"Until the hearing."
"Exactly."
They remained there for a long time without speaking. The city of Alfra, far away, kept its lights burning, and the muffled sounds of carts and bells reached them like a distant tide. The wind passed between the tents with a low whistle. Selena finished her tea and rose, stretching her back.
"Tomorrow I want you at the camp. No disappearing."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to start sorting the company's documents. And I want someone nearby in case Borges has a breakdown."
"That's Ian's job."
"Ian isn't here. You are."
Akel raised an eyebrow.
"That doesn't make me a good replacement."
"No, but you stay quiet, which is exactly what I need."
She gave him a dry, amused smile and returned to the tent.
Akel remained alone.
The fire dwindled until only embers remained.
He looked at the star-filled sky for a moment, then stood and returned to his tent.
---
Four days passed.
Four days of routine, dust, training, and brief conversations. Akel helped at the forge one morning, watched the mercenaries train in pairs, accompanied Bjorn into the city to buy buckles and replacement ropes, and spent long hours sitting on the outskirts of the camp, watching the roads and patrols passing through Alfra's gates. No one spoke openly about the hearing—the subject lingered in pauses, in the looks Rodric and Selena exchanged, in the seriousness with which Borges recounted coins and Elbi went over the lists again.
On the fifth day, near dusk, the sentry stationed by the fence shouted.
"Riders to the east! Three!"
Akel rose from the bench. Bjorn reached the camp gate before him, and several other mercenaries stopped what they were doing to look toward the road.
The three riders approached slowly. The one in front was unmistakable: an old, thin man with white hair tied back, sitting in the saddle with the rigid posture of someone who had taught generations of warriors how to remain on horseback.
Almir.
Behind him, slightly to the right, came Ian. Rodric's son had short dark hair and broad shoulders. He wore light leather armor and carried a spear secured to his saddle. The fatigue of the journey hardened his features, but there was a calmness about him that reminded Akel of his father.
Last came Alpe.
Mounted on a bay horse, his dark eyes fixed on nothing in particular. He was thinner than Akel remembered, his shoulders slightly hunched beneath his cloak. He said nothing as he approached. He simply followed the others, like a man who was no longer in any hurry to reach anywhere.
When the three crossed into the camp, the mercenaries applauded with relief. Perta exclaimed and hurried over to take the reins. Atreus slapped a novice on the shoulder hard enough to nearly knock the young man over. The twins smiled like children.
Almir dismounted first.
The old swordsman straightened his back with a crack, rolled his shoulders, and cast a slow look across the camp. When he saw Akel, he became very still.
Then a crooked smile broke across his thin face.
"Well, well. Four months, and the boy still has that face like he ate a stone for breakfast."
Akel approached.
"And you still have that habit of arriving noisily."
"Noise is life, boy. Silence is for the dead."
"Or for those lying in ambush."
"That too. But there's no ambush today. Just exhaustion and hunger."
Ian dismounted next and came toward Akel. For a moment, the two looked at each other.
Then Ian extended his arm and pulled Akel into a brief, firm embrace, giving him two pats on the back.
"Good to see you, brother."
"Good to be back."
"At least until the old man starts bombarding you with questions."
"He already started."
"And it'll get worse."
Alpe dismounted last. He did everything slowly, as though every movement cost more than it should. He pulled his pack from the saddle, stroked his horse's neck, and only then raised his eyes to Akel.
"You're back," he said.
His voice was low, rough, almost emotionless.
"I'm back," Akel replied.
Alpe nodded slowly. He did not smile. He did not approach. He simply turned his gaze toward the fire and walked toward the veterans' tent without saying anything else.
Rurik appeared beside Akel.
"Still the same."
"Yes."
"Talks to the horse, but doesn't talk to us."
"He has his reasons."
"Everyone does. Some of us drink to forget."
"Does that help?"
Rurik shrugged.
"For one night."
Akel watched Alpe disappear into the tent.
Then he turned toward Almir and Ian, who were already speaking with Rodric near the main tent. Selena had come out with a cup of water and was making Ian drink, while Almir laughed at something Akel couldn't hear.
The camp was whole again.
And as much as Akel tried to ignore it, there was a weight in his chest that was beginning to loosen.