After circling a little farther west, the road grew quiet. It wasn't empty. A farmer heading out to the fields passed them, and two heavily loaded mules came up from the opposite direction.
But there was no sign of anyone looking for them.
Leon liked that.
Not being seen was best.
Matthias had been tending to his horse since morning. He pressed the saddle straps once, shook the canteen, and even checked the provisions tied behind the saddle. He was doing exactly what Leon had told him to do yesterday.
“Done.” “What is?” “We can leave.”
Leon looked at the boy for a moment.
“Mine too?”
Matthias stopped.
“Isn’t that something you check yourself, Mr. Leon?” “Right.” “Then mine’s done.”
“Let’s go.”
They moved side by side. Before, Matthias had stayed about half a step behind. That hadn’t changed much, but at least he no longer hurried to catch up whenever Leon slowed down.
He walked when the horses walked and rested when they rested. That was enough.
Nothing much happened all morning. Leon didn’t deliberately change roads often, either. They stayed on a little-used farm road for a long while.
Matthias was the first to ask, sounding puzzled.
“Are we staying on this road today?” “Yeah.” “Without changing roads?” “Why would we?” “You kept changing them.”
Leon kept his eyes ahead.
“You change roads when you need to.” “And we don’t need to today?” “Not yet.” “I understand.”
A little later, the boy spoke again.
“Did those people lose us?” “Don’t know.” “They could be ahead of us or behind us?” “Both.”
Matthias was silent for a moment.
“Isn’t that an answer that could mean anything?” “That’s why it’s convenient.”
The boy looked at Leon, his face showing that he couldn’t tell whether Leon was serious or joking. Leon saw no reason to clarify.
They ate lunch beside the stone wall of an orchard by the road. Leon split a piece of bread in half and let the horses graze. Even while eating, Matthias looked over at his horse twice.
“It’s not going to run away.” “I know.” “Then why keep looking?” “I just end up looking.”
Leon understood that a little. He had watched his surroundings before eating even in the middle of a war.
He’s started noticing things like that first after only a few days.
“Mr. Leon.” “Yeah.” “How many of them are there?” “Who?” “The people looking for us.” “There were four at the creek. Didn’t see the ones behind them.” “They’ve probably increased since then, right?” “Probably.” “There are only two of us.”
Leon looked at Matthias.
“So?” “Nothing.”
The boy went back to eating his bread, wearing the expression of someone who had started calculating something and then given up. Leon folded the remaining bread and put it away.
“Having more people doesn’t mean they’ll find us any faster.” “Why not?” “More people means more opinions.” “They could get in each other’s way?”
Leon paused briefly.
“They could.”
That was the end of it. Leon didn’t know whether that was actually happening on the other side.
Around sunset, they found an old wooden shed. One wall had split open, but the roof was intact, so they decided to sleep there for the night.
While Matthias tied up the horses and took out their feed, Leon sat near the entrance, checked the string on his crossbow, and counted the bolts. Everything was accounted for.
From inside, Matthias said,
“We need to buy hay tomorrow.” “How much is left?” “Enough until morning.” “And food?” “About two days.” “Water?” “Full.”
Leon nodded.
“Then we’re fine.”
After a moment, Matthias asked,
“Are we taking the main road tomorrow?” “We’ll see.” “Yes.”
This time, he didn’t ask anything else.
It was quiet outside the shed. Leon set his sword down beside him and leaned his back against the wall. He briefly counted how many days he had already spent on a job supposed to last five.
It hadn’t been five days yet. But it had turned out very different from the five days he’d imagined at the start.
Well, it wasn’t over yet.
Leon closed his eyes.
That same evening.
At a small waystation on the northern main road, six horses were tied up. Four of them had their heads lowered and were breathing hard. The man in chain mail who had fought Leon at the creek put a hand against one horse’s flank, then cursed.
“This one’s done for today.”
The stablemaster said,
“If you push them any harder, they’ll collapse.” “I know.” “If you know that, let them rest.” “That’s what I’m going to do.”
The man handed over the reins. One of the riders behind him asked,
“Then who’s going south?”
The man in chain mail looked deeper into the stable. Two relatively healthy horses stood apart from the others.
“We’ll use those.”
The stablemaster immediately cut in.
“Those belong to the waystation.” “I’ll pay.” “It’s not a matter of money.”
When the man pulled a silver coin from his pocket and placed it in his palm, the stablemaster stopped talking.
“How long will you use them?” “Until the next waystation.” “You’ll have to bring them back.” “If they’re still alive.” “That’s not bringing them back.” “Then two more coins.”
The stablemaster hesitated briefly, then held out his hand.
One of the riders standing nearby muttered,
“No wonder money disappears so fast.” “Collect it when we catch them.” “From whom?” “I don’t know either.”
The man in chain mail entered the waystation. Several notes collected during the day lay on a table, while one of his literate subordinates was arranging them in order.
“Are they all here?” “Read them.” “First. One adult male engaged at the creek. The boy split off south ahead of him.” “We saw that one.” “Next.” “Two horses on the northeastern herding path. Number of people unconfirmed.” “Next.” “Roadside inn on the main road. One boy in a brown coat and one armed adult male ate there.”
The man in chain mail’s hand stopped.
“Who saw them?” “The innkeeper.” “Certain?” “He says the two of them ate porridge and left.” “Next.”
The subordinate picked up another sheet.
“Quarry fork. Two horses heading south. Horse tracks also suspected near the abandoned quarry.” “Suspected?” “They found horse droppings and broken branches.”
The man frowned.
“Hoofprints?” “They said there weren’t any because the ground was stone.” “Human footprints?” “Those weren’t certain either.” “Leave it out.”
The subordinate drew a line through one sentence with his quill.
“Next is the western forest road. Tracks appeared in different directions, so they estimate three to five people.” “Did anyone actually see people?” “No.” “Horses?” “Two horses have been confirmed repeatedly.”
The room went quiet for a moment. The man in chain mail looked over the papers on the table again, one by one.
The only people directly confirmed were one boy, one adult man, and two horses. The numbers had increased only when they counted tracks.
“Who said there were three at first?”
One subordinate raised his hand.
“I did.” “Why three?” “The footprints below the creek overlapped.” “You saw them?” “No.” “And who said four?”
Another subordinate hesitantly raised his hand.
“That was me.” “Why?” “The horse tracks split up.” “How many horses?” “Two for certain.”
The man in chain mail sat down in a chair.
“We haven’t actually seen the people.”
No one answered.
“We mistook people for tracks.”
A subordinate said carefully,
“They could still have companions traveling separately.” “They could.”
The man pressed a finger to the first sheet.
“But the only one we’ve seen so far is one person.”
At the creek, the boy had been sent ahead while the man stayed behind alone. He hadn’t killed the horses or fought to the end, only bought as much time as he needed before pulling away. Since then, there had been more tracks than confirmed people.
“We’ll report it again.”
The subordinate who had been writing pulled out a fresh sheet.
“The target?” “One boy.” “Escort?” “One adult male.” “Any accomplices?”
The man thought for a moment.
“Unconfirmed.”
The quill moved.
“How many combatants?” “One confirmed.”
The subordinate found the corresponding box near the bottom of the page. It was an old military form, with a space for recording numbers when they encountered the enemy.
“This one?” “Yeah.”
The tip of the quill touched the paper.
Enemy forces: 1
After writing it down, the subordinate looked at the number once.
“We’re sending this many people after them?”
The man in chain mail didn’t answer. Four men had already spent two days chasing them, and now he had to send two more.
“Send two south first.” “Now?” “On the waystation’s horses.” “How far?” “The next major fork. If there’s a bridge or ferry, send word through both.”
The subordinate looked at the sheet he had just written.
“Should I tell them to look for three or more?”
The man in chain mail shook his head.
“No.”
He tapped the number 1 with a finger.
“Send them properly this time.” “What?” “One boy,”
the man said.
“And one escort.”