The rain hadn’t stopped for three days.

  It wasn’t a storm—just the kind of slow, steady drizzle that soaked through every layer of cloth and bone. The trees wept. The earth drank and drowned. Somewhere deep in the forest, a fox cried out, then went silent.

  Karl sat near the dwindling campfire, cloak pulled tight, watching the southern road.

  “They’re late,” one of the players muttered.

  “No,” said the ex-soldier, sharpening his blade by firelight. “They’re cautious.”

  Karl didn’t speak. He was listening.

  And then—hoofbeats.

  ---

  Three riders emerged from the fog between the trees, their lanterns dim and shielded. The lead horse bore a familiar figure—tan cloak, heavy gloves, a low-slung crossbow strapped over the saddlebag.

  Tanir.

  He stopped just short of the firelight, squinting through the mist.

  Karl rose.

  “It’s really you,” Tanir muttered. “You’re actually here.”

  “I’m not a ghost.”

  Tanir swung down from the horse and approached, boots squelching in the mud.

  The players nearby tensed—hands drifting toward hilts—but Karl held up a hand. “It’s alright.”

  Tanir gave the group a long look. He recognized several faces—especially the five who’d entered the city. He nodded at them.

  “You’re the ones who found me. Still alive?”

  The student grinned. “Barely.”

  Tanir turned back to Karl.

  “Alright, Your Highness. Talk.”

  ---

  They moved beneath the largest pine they could find, its wide branches offering a modicum of shelter. A canvas tarp was strung above a few crates, and there they sat—Karl and Tanir, alone but within sight of their guards.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Tanir lit a pipe, exhaled smoke, then asked plainly: “Why am I here?”

  Karl looked tired. Older than a week ago. But his voice was steady.

  “I need to get back to Thalgrenn.”

  Tanir blinked. “You want to go back?”

  Karl nodded.

  “You fled the Empire’s capital. You’re being hunted. There’s a kill order with your name on it, and you want to cross the border into the kingdom that’s been torn apart by civil war?”

  Karl nodded again.

  Tanir leaned back.

  “You’re insane.”

  ---

  The silence dragged between them for a long moment. Rain tapped against the tarp overhead like fingers on a drum.

  “You’re not here to sneak into Ravenhall,” Tanir said. “You’re here because you think I can smuggle you across the border.”

  “You’ve done worse for less.”

  Tanir smirked. “True.”

  He looked out at the group gathered around the fire. Thirty people, give or take. Most were pretending not to listen. All were soaked and filthy.

  “Who the hell are these people?” he asked. “You didn’t find them in Aurelia. They’re not soldiers. They fight like lunatics. And they talk like they’ve never lived in this world.”

  Karl hesitated.

  “I recruited them.”

  “From where?”

  “A place no one else can reach.”

  Tanir narrowed his eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one you’ll get.”

  Tanir studied him for a long moment.

  Then laughed, bitterly.

  “You’re even more cryptic than the last time we met.”

  ---

  He stood, stretched, then looked back toward the city—now lost in fog and distance.

  “Crossing the border’s not a joke. It’s three days through imperial watchpoints, a mountain valley, and a flooded ravine. If your people are spotted, they’ll be cut down before they can say ‘we’re just passing through.’”

  “I know.”

  “I’m risking everything.”

  “I know.”

  Tanir spat into the mud.

  “Why should I help you?”

  Karl didn’t answer.

  He reached into his cloak and drew out a leather pouch.

  It clinked.

  When he opened it, the dim firelight reflected off polished gold and silver.

  Tanir froze.

  Karl poured the contents onto the crate between them. Ten gold coins. Fifteen silver. Four rough-cut rubies.

  The pouch had been heavy.

  “This is half of what I’ve scraped from them,” Karl said quietly. “The other half is for when we reach the other side.”

  Tanir stared at the pile.

  Then at Karl.

  “You’re paying me,” he said.

  “I’m hiring you.”

  Tanir blinked slowly.

  Then nodded.

  “Alright.”

  ---

  The fire crackled between them as Tanir counted the coin with expert fingers.

  “I’ll need to bring three wagons,” he said. “Two covered, one empty. I’ve got a blacksmith who owes me. He can fake merchant papers.”

  Karl nodded.

  “I’ve got a contact at the west checkpoint. She’s nosy, but she’s greedy. A few coins, a few crates of sugar, and she won’t ask what’s in the wagons.”

  Another nod.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow morning. Before sunrise. We’ll move at first light.”

  Still another nod.

  Tanir glanced up.

  “You sure about this?”

  Karl didn’t answer right away.

  Then: “I’m not sure about anything.”

  Tanir grunted.

  “Welcome to the world.”

  ---

  He mounted his horse in silence.

  The other riders pulled their hoods low and followed him. Before leaving, Tanir looked once more at the players.

  “They don’t look like soldiers.”

  “They’re not.”

  “They’ll die fast.”

  “They’ve died before.”

  That made Tanir pause.

  But he said nothing more.

  ---

  Karl stood there long after the hoofbeats had vanished.

  The rain returned in full.

  He looked down at the empty crate, then out at the camp—his camp.

  These weren’t soldiers.

  This wasn’t an army.

  But maybe—just maybe—it was enough.

  And tomorrow, they would ride.