Chương 15: 06-2: Northern Night, Campfire, and Breath

The Approach I had just begun to think the night might pass without incident. Then, from beyond the dark slope in the distance, a light appeared. Not a campfire. Not starlight. Something moving through the darkness—flickering, unsteady, and unmistakably drawing closer. My focus sharpened instantly. Whatever warmth had been gathering in my chest went cold. Jessi lifted her head at almost the same moment. The rare softness of a moment ago vanished without a trace.

"… Looks like," she said quietly, eyes narrowing, "the north isn't done with us tonight." I slowly closed my hand around my sword hilt and watched the light grow clearer. The lights swayed closer through the dark. Not one light. Six. Scattered at different heights, flickering in and out—like a string of will-o'-the-wisps carried by the night wind. My first thought wasn't relief. It was: trouble. Legitimate travelers didn't move through northern foothills at this hour with that kind of steady, deliberate pace.

The rhythm was too consistent—too controlled—like trained people. But if they were military, the lights were too loosely spaced, lacking the tight discipline of a patrol. Simply put: a group of people who were obviously dirty, but trying very hard to look clean. I already had my hand on my sword hilt when I spoke, voice low.

"Up. We have company." The reactions from inside the carriage put their personalities on full display. Lucas was the first to make noise—not because he moved fastest, but because he lurched upright from half-sleep, cracked his head against the carriage wall, and yelped before anything else.

"Ow—! Ambush? Where?!" Jessi moved like she'd never been fully asleep at all. Her eyes snapped open, instantly alert. She flung the blanket aside with one hand, reached for her dagger with the other, and still found time to jab at me.

"Young master, your watch quality is really something. Didn't we agree I was getting a full night's sleep?"

"That was my preference too." I kept my eyes on the approaching lights.

"Unfortunately, the north doesn't seem to accommodate luxury wishes." Erina woke the quietest of all. No cry, no panic. She simply sat up, smoothed her sleep-tousled golden hair back behind her ear, and looked at me. In the warm interior light, her face still carried a soft, unguarded quality—different from her usual composed bearing in a way that made me look a moment too long. The next second, Jessi's toe nudged my shin. Deliberately. I turned to glare at her.

She met it with a smile that clearly said, You were staring, and it was obvious. … This woman was genuinely committed to stirring the pot even in the middle of a potential threat.

"Listen up." I pulled my focus back, voice low.

"Six lights outside. Unknown whether travelers, road patrol, or opportunists looking for easy targets. Lucas—can you dull the carriage's appearance? Make it stop looking like a mobile treasury."

"Y-yeah, I can…" Lucas scrubbed his face, forcing himself alert, and grabbed his circuit rod.

"I can layer a basic visual dampener—suppress the reflective surfaces, overlay an illusion of old wood and damp canvas."

"Good."

"Exterior only, though." He raised a finger, suddenly precise like a lecturer correcting an error.

"If they actually knock on it, the sound will give it away."

"Then we don't let them knock." I turned to Erina.

"Hood up, hair tucked in. Don't speak unless you have to. If you do, keep it brief." She nodded without question and pulled her cloak's hood up in one smooth motion. Even in a moment of rushed preparation, she moved with that carefully schooled grace—quiet, exact—like someone trained in composure since childhood. Finally, I looked at Jessi. She stood with arms folded, leaning against the carriage door, wearing an expression that said go ahead, tell me what to do next. I hesitated for half a second.

"…Fiancée," I said.

"Same as before?" Jessi blinked. Then the corner of her mouth began to curve, slowly, with dangerous intent.

"My, my." She took one unhurried step closer, eyes catching the light like a cat that had just gotten away with something.

"That came out quite naturally this time, young master."

"I don't have time for you to make something of this."

"I do, though." She lowered her voice and leaned in—close enough that I caught the residual cold air in her hair and something faint beneath it, like soap.

"Don't worry. I take the role of fiancée very seriously."

"You'd better."

"I can also offer hand-holding, shoulder-leaning, and devoted-gaze services at premium rates."

"Say one more word and I'm using you as ammunition."

"So fierce." She smiled sweetly.

"Funny, that's exactly what I like." … When this night was over, I was going to be measurably shorter-lived for it. Outside, the lights had drawn close enough to resolve into shapes. Six figures. Three mounted, three on foot. The riders held the center. The walkers spread left and right in a formation that looked loose but had the deliberate feel of angles kept open for encirclement. Not soldiers. But definitely not ordinary travelers either.

Real travelers at this hour moved with fatigue—sagging shoulders, dragging steps, tilting torches. These six didn't. They advanced slowly but steadily, like dogs that had caught a scent and were circling in—unhurried, watching to see whether the prey would expose its own throat. I stirred the campfire until it burned brighter. Not for warmth—to make it clear: we see you coming, and we're not rattled. Lucas's spell completed at the same moment.

The deep-blue exterior and silver trim of the carriage seemed to pass through gray mist, and in an instant the gleam was gone. From a distance, it would read as a decent enough travel wagon—solid, but not worth dying for. Good. At least we no longer looked like a walking coin purse. The group came to a stop roughly a dozen paces from the fire. Their leader was a middle-aged man with a short beard, wearing a gray-black cloak.

Two old scars crossed his face—not deep enough to be dramatic, not shallow enough to ignore. His features had the quality of someone who might pass for reasonable at first glance, until you noticed that when he smiled, the expression never reached his eyes. He looked at me first. Then at the carriage. Then his gaze moved briefly over Jessi and Erina in turn. An unreasonable irritation flared in my chest immediately.

"Good evening, friend." The bearded man spoke first, voice unhurried, almost cordial.

"The northern road's no easy thing. Finding firelight out here at this hour—feels like the gods are looking out for us."

"Depends which gods you follow," I said evenly. The man smiled.

"Fair point." Polite words. His feet, however, didn't retreat—they moved forward, two steps, with his people following. I watched carefully. The lean man on the left kept his hand at his hip—not on a knife hilt, but positioned to draw a crossbow. The one on the right in the fur cap had his toes angled outward, ready to pivot and charge. And the tall rider at the rear hadn't spoken a word since arriving, just watching us from shadow with the quiet patience of a bad idea still in its sheath. This group was not clean.

Not in any ordinary sense.

"Traveling this late?" I asked. The bearded man spread his hands.

"A man's got to eat. The northern trade roads are a mess—travel by day and you're paying tolls to every piece of scum with a rope across the path. Night's quieter."

"I see." I nodded.

"Then you're in luck. No toll here." Jessi let out a quiet, almost inaudible laugh beside me. The bearded man's expression didn't flicker, but his gaze slid toward the pot by the fire, still holding the last of its warmth.

"Smells good. We've been on the road all day." He kept his tone easy.

"If it's no trouble—could we share the fire for a bit?" I hadn't yet answered when Erina drew a breath. Almost inaudible. But I was close enough to catch it. I glanced sideways at her. Beneath the shadow of her hood, her face had gone slightly pale. Her fingers had quietly tightened around the edge of her cloak. She recognized something. Not a face. A scent? Their equipment? Or that particular quality that clung to people who had killed before? Something cold settled in my chest. My expression didn't move.

"You can share the fire," I said.

"From where you're standing." The bearded man's smile thinned by a fraction. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Friend, that kind of wariness doesn't read like a merchant."

"Because I'm not a merchant."

"Then what are you?" I was about to answer when Jessi beat me to it, slipping her arm through mine. The kind of linking that was entirely natural, entirely practiced, and entirely unnecessary. My whole body went rigid on the spot.

"Us?" Her smile turned devastatingly sweet, voice deliberately softened by a couple of degrees.

"Just a poor, unlucky engaged couple stuck dragging our little brother and sister over the mountains. Big brother, you're not seriously thinking of targeting a broke outfit like us, are you?" A flicker passed through the bearded man's eyes. I glanced down at Jessi's hand hooked around my arm. Her palm was warm, but her fingertips were steady. This wasn't just an act—she had already shifted into the state where a blade could be drawn at any second. She always sounded like she was playing around.

But when it counted, she slipped into the kill zone faster than anyone.

"Is that so." The man drew out his words, gaze sweeping over Erina and Lucas.

"And these two?"

"My little brother." Jessi jerked her chin toward Lucas.

"…Why am I your brother?" Lucas protested under his breath.

"Because you look exactly like a malnourished little brother."

"What kind of logic is that?!"

"And my little sister." Jessi swept Erina into the fold without missing a beat, the lie rolling off her tongue like she'd rehearsed it a hundred times.

"She's shy. Don't spook her." Erina clearly startled for a heartbeat. Then she actually lowered her head, pressing a hand lightly against her chest as if to hold something uneasy in place. …She was performing better than I'd expected. No. That wasn't right. She wasn't performing. She was genuinely uneasy. The bearded man had noticed as well. The corner of his mouth lifted, like he'd caught the scent of something worth chasing.

"Little sister," he repeated slowly, and there was something in his tone that made me want to knock his teeth out.

"Nights in the north get cold. Not good for a young lady to be sitting out in the open. Why don't we come a bit closer—look out for each other?"

"No." The answer came fast. He looked at me. I looked back. The fire popped, sparks snapping upward with a sharp crack.

"They're perfectly safe where they are," I said, voice flat.

"Take one more step, and you won't be." The air went still for a beat. Not the peaceful kind of still. The kind you get when a rope is on the verge of snapping and even the wind feels like it's holding its breath. The smile on the bearded man's face finally thinned. And that was when Lucas spoke.

"Captain." I almost turned to look at him. Captain? Who? Then I saw him huddled by the carriage door, clutching his blanket, face white as death. He looked like he might keel over at any second, yet his voice carried that distinctly obnoxious academy-bookworm chill as he added, weakly:"I already said the folding carrier's sealing array is unstable. If we let strangers get too close and it blows, who's taking responsibility?" I understood instantly. Good.

The kid's body might be falling apart, but his brain was working just fine. The bearded man frowned.

"Folding… what?" Lucas looked like even explaining was a waste of energy. He half-lowered his eyes and fished a badge out from inside his robe, letting it dangle from his fingers. The firelight caught on it, and immediately threw back a gleam that had absolutely no business existing in this desolate mountain roadside.

"Empire Royal Magic Academy, Spellcraft Research Department, probationary apprentice." He paused to cough twice, performing frailty with more conviction than most genuine invalids.

"We're transporting a contaminated storage carrier. I just added a suppression layer to the shell. If someone tampers with it and the inner subspace boundary tears—" He stopped there and lifted his pale face, looking straight at the men across from us.

"At least one of you is going to lose half a face." Even I found that line unpleasant to hear. Let alone a bunch of people who had never planned on betting their actual lives. The man in the fur cap on the right clearly pulled his foot back half an inch. The bearded man didn't fully buy it, but he didn't dismiss it either. His gaze stayed fixed on the badge in Lucas's hand, weighing.

"Academy people, all the way up north?"

"That's an interesting question," Jessi cut in, still smiling, her arm hooked through mine and not loosening in the slightest.

"Would you tell some stranger by the roadside who you're planning to rob tonight and where you're running afterward?" A muscle jumped at the corner of the man's eye.

"Little girl, having too sharp a tongue isn't always a good thing."

"I've told her that," I said calmly.

"She's never listened."

"Because my fiancé keeps saying useless things." She even tilted her head up to wink at me as she said it. At this point, I couldn't even be bothered to correct that word anymore. Because I was absolutely certain that the moment I opened my mouth, she'd lay an even bigger trap and wait for me to fall into it. The atmosphere felt more and more wrong.

The six of them hadn't moved yet, but that restless tension—the kind that said they didn't want to back off, but knew pressing forward was dangerous—was already seeping into their stances. What worried me more was that I couldn't tell if they were hesitating to attack, or waiting for someone further back in the dark to close the net. And that was when— Erina spoke.

"Excuse me, sir." Her voice wasn't loud. But somehow, it cut through everything and landed in every ear. The bearded man turned toward her. Erina lifted her face from beneath her hood. Her expression was quiet to the point of pallor. In the firelight, her eyes were clearer than usual—clear enough to reflect everything they saw.

"Your left hand is trembling." A flicker of color drained from the bearded man's face.

"What did you say?"

"It's not the cold." Erina's tone was soft.

"It's an old wound. You were bitten by something unclean and never treated it properly. The corruption has already reached your elbow. Leave it as it is, and your entire arm will rot within two months." My eyes narrowed. The men on the other side went rigid. Because his left hand—the one hidden under his cloak—had indeed stayed unnaturally still since the moment they arrived. He stared at Erina, his gaze turning cold and deep in an instant.

"Who are you?" The taste of the air changed with that question. It was no longer probing. No longer about whether he could squeeze some easy profit out of us. It was the moment he realized she couldn't possibly be just some random "little sister." Jessi's hand slid off my arm. Not to let go. To shift into a position where she could draw faster. I didn't even have to look to know she was smiling now—a thin, dangerous smile. Lucas's hand closed around his spell rod.

I stepped forward half a pace, putting myself directly between Erina and them.

"None of your damn business," I said. The last of the man's courteous veneer peeled away. He raised his right hand in a gesture that was half calming his men, half signal.

"No need to get so worked up, friend." His voice dropped.

"We only wanted to borrow your fire and ask a few directions. But it seems your party is more interesting than I thought."

"When people say that," Jessi murmured, "what follows is never good."

"Agreed." The wind rose, sudden and sharp. The flames tilted sideways and leapt, sparks flaring high. Almost at the same instant, the tall rider at the rear—who had yet to say a single word—finally moved. He didn't draw a sword. He raised his hand. A thin glint of cold light slipped from his sleeve, aimed straight at Erina. A throwing needle. I didn't have time to think. My sword was already out. Clang! The needle glanced off my blade and spun away, hissing past the firelight into the snow.

Where it landed, the snow blackened and smoked. Poison.

"Knew you weren't here for the fire," I said through my teeth.

"Only figuring that out now?" The bearded man bared his teeth.

"A little late." His hand dropped. The men on both sides lunged in at once. And then—for the first time—the four of us moved like a real party. Not everyone doing their own thing. Not a mess of overlapping reactions. We each, almost simultaneously, did exactly what we were meant to do. Jessi was the first to disappear. Literally—she vanished. She'd been standing just behind my left shoulder.

The next instant, she melted into the shadow of the fire, her body dropping low and gliding forward like a streak of darkness. She cut straight into the blind spot of the lean man on the left. Before he even registered where she'd gone, a flash of steel opened his wrist and the concealed hand crossbow tumbled into the snow with a clack.

"Borrow fire?" she said as she appeared behind him, her blade kissing the skin of his throat, her voice honey-sweet.

"Let me borrow your life first." The man in the fur cap on the right tried to rush Erina—only to catch a faceful of sudden violet light. Lucas knelt half-collapsed in the carriage doorway, short staff raised, face white as chalk. His lips moved around each syllable of the spell with irritating academy precision. It wasn't an attack spell. It was one of those annoyingly orthodox restraint formulas the Academy loved so much. The geometric violet lines snapped tight and bound the man's legs together.

He barely got half a curse out before pitching forward and eating snow.

"I—I told you…" Lucas panted, words broken by breath.

"I'm no good at combat… but that doesn't mean I—I can't make you fall on your face…" In terms of cool lines, it was… lacking. But the effect was excellent, so I decided to save the laughter for later. The one who truly flipped the situation, though, was Erina. She didn't scream. She didn't run. The moment I stepped in front of her, she had already lifted her wooden holy sigil and begun reciting a prayer I couldn't understand—one that made the air itself feel suddenly cleaner.

A soft white light bloomed from her palm. Not blinding. Not explosive. A quiet, steady brightness. Like dawn at the end of a snowy night. The bearded man's left arm—hidden under the cloak—suddenly hissed with black smoke. He choked back a grunt, staggering half a step backward, his face twisting like he'd swallowed coal dust. Erina met his eyes, her voice soft but utterly steady.

"The corruption on you came from a graveyard." His pupils constricted.

"You—""So you're not travelers," she continued.

"You're excavators. And trackers." A chill walked down my spine at that. Not from fear. From the accuracy. These people hadn't just decided to rob us on a whim. They had been moving with a purpose long before they ran into us. Finding us had simply given them additional ideas. In other words—there was something else moving through the north tonight. The bearded man understood that he'd been seen through.

"Fall back!" he snapped, finally dropping the pretense. The tall rider wheeled his horse around at once. The fur-cap man whom Lucas had tripped scrambled to his feet in a spray of snow. As for the lean man on the left pinned by Jessi, she drove a boot into his side and sent him rolling away like a sack of rags.

"Get lost," she said, flicking the blood from her blade, her smile gone cold.

"Come closer again, and next time I won't just be borrowing your life." The bearded man swung himself back into the saddle. As he pulled away, his gaze locked on Erina one last time. It wasn't the look of someone giving up. It was someone memorizing a face. The very worst kind of memorizing.

"You'll regret this," he threw over his shoulder, before riding off into the dark. The firelight around them receded quickly. The slope fell still again, as if that short, ugly exchange had been nothing more than a bad trick of the wind. But the poisoned needle melting a black crater in the snow, the patch of tainted blood the holy light had forced out, and the crossbow lying half-buried to our left made one thing very clear: This hadn't been a hallucination. It was real trouble. And it was only getting started.

I let out a slow breath and only then realized how hard my heart was pounding. Not from fear, but from that jolt you get when the sword has just gone back in the scabbel and your body hasn't quite caught up to the idea of temporarily safe. Then I turned back to look at the other three. Jessi still stood in the snow, her short blade hanging loose at her side, the last traces of a smile not quite wiped from her face.

Lucas was slumped against the carriage door, gasping for air like someone who'd just been dragged out of a river. Erina still held her holy sigil raised, fingertips slightly pale, but standing perfectly steady. The four of us looked at each other for a moment. Brief. But long enough—long enough for me to realize something clearly, for the very first time. These weren't "three strays I'd picked up along the way." This was us.

An us that was chaotic as hell, loud as hell, and hiding far too many secrets—yet somehow, when things actually went to hell, had just barely managed to come together as a single, functional blade. Naturally, Jessi was the first to break the silence. She sheathed her dagger, turned to look at me, and raised an eyebrow with a grin that was equal parts smug and bright.

"Well, young master?" Her smile widened.

"That move just now—pretty impressive, wasn't it?" I looked at her and let half a second pass.

"…It was decent."

"Decent?" Her eyes flew wide immediately.

"You're calling that decent? I nearly severed his tendons while smiling."

"The fact that you were smiling while doing it is exactly why it doesn't qualify as praise."

"But you were watching me."

"I was watching the enemy."

"Liar." She stepped closer, eyes curving.

"There was definitely a moment when you were completely captivated."

"Before you say anything else, maybe look at your blood-covered hands and reconsider whether this is the right time for that kind of line."

"It's perfect timing." She sounded completely justified.

"Dangerous women are the most captivating—isn't that common knowledge?"

"I'd suggest asking someone normal."

"Where exactly do you see any normal people around here?" …Damn it. I genuinely couldn't argue with that. Lucas, still wheezing nearby, managed to contribute weakly:"I—I'm at least half normal…"

"No, you're not," Jessi and I said in perfect unison. Lucas fell silent for two seconds, then produced an expression of profound devastation. It was then that Erina slowly lowered her holy sigil. She looked at me, then at Jessi and Lucas, and finally spoke very softly:"Just now…" She paused, searching for the right words.

"Everyone was amazing." Jessi blinked, visibly taken aback. Then, almost involuntarily, she reached up to scratch the hair near her ear, looking faintly uncomfortable.

"Ah… getting hit with that kind of completely earnest compliment out of nowhere—I'm really not used to that." Lucas gave a quiet cough.

"I—I thought it was rather nice…" I looked at Erina. Her face was still pale and her hands still carried a faint tremor—clearly, that miracle working had cost her something. But her eyes were bright, like someone who had finally, truly confirmed something: she wasn't just dead weight being sheltered behind us. She was part of this party. Something loosened in my chest, and I found myself almost wanting to smile. Not the kind of smile aimed at mocking anyone.

Something stranger—a quiet sense of amusement coming untethered from somewhere deeper.

"Yeah." I slid my sword back into its sheath and spoke quietly.

"We actually looked like something tonight." Jessi immediately turned her head toward me.

"Oh? Is that you complimenting us?"

"I'm stating a fact."

"Translation: compliment."

"Interpret it however you want." She laughed. And this time, she was clearly happier than she'd been with a blade at someone's throat. The lightness didn't last long. Because just as I moved to retrieve the fallen crossbow, Erina spoke softly:"Lord Cedric." I turned. She was staring at something on the ground, a slight furrow between her brows. I followed her gaze. It was a small piece of black leather that must have fallen from inside the bearded man's cloak during the struggle.

It had been invisible against the snow at first, but now, catching the firelight, you could make out a faint yet unmistakably deliberate marking pressed into its surface. Not a merchant guild seal. Not a military insignia. A black bird with wings spread wide. Sharp beak, long tail—like something poised to dive from the top of a tower. I didn't know what it was. But the moment Erina saw it, her face went even paler than it had been when we were surrounded. Two words left her lips, barely above a breath.

"…The Raven." The night wind swept in from beyond the camp, making the flames waver. And as I watched the color drain from her face, I understood something. Those six men had very likely been nothing more than the outer edge. Whatever was truly watching us— was only just beginning to take shape in the dark.