The sun's first rays stretched across the horizon, casting a golden glow that slowly breathed life into the land. The remnants of the cold night began to dissipate as light crept over the campsite, promising a sweltering day ahead under a cloudless sky.
The captain of the gate guards leaned against a post, rubbing his tired eyes. Despite the chill that had clung to the night, he welcomed the warmth that the morning promised. Half a night of vigilance had left him weary, but the thought of a day spent resting brought a rare sense of solace. The other half he had spent an unconscious girl, unfortunately.
The captain's eyes narrowed as he approached, his gaze sweeping over the finely-crafted wagon with its polished wood and intricate designs—a clear sign of wealth. Nobles rarely ventured into these parts, especially alone, and the incongruity set him on edge.
When the horses slowed to a stop twenty paces from the gate, the guards instinctively raised their weapons, their sharp points glinting in the morning sun. The driver dismounted slowly, his hands visible, and stood still—a cautious move that suggested he understood the gravity of the situation.
"Sorry for my men acting rudely, but it seems you've taken a wrong turn and found yourself here!" the captain called out, his tone laced with suspicion as he strode forward.
The driver—a broad-shouldered man with a chiseled physique and a slightly weathered face—gave a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his head. Despite his composed demeanor, the captain could tell he was a seasoned fighter, the kind who could snap a neck without breaking a sweat.
"My apologies, kind sir. We seem to be a little lost," the man said, his voice polite yet steady.
The captain stopped a few paces away, gesturing to his men to circle the wagon. "We? You and who else?"
"It is only I and the young mistress," the driver replied smoothly, gesturing toward the wagon. "I'm tasked with escorting her to Jorgen City to purchase goods, but I fear I lost my way in the dark. Night driving isn't my strength. Could you kindly point us in the right direction, sir?"
His courteous tone was disarming, but the captain wasn't fooled. Nobles didn't wander into bandit territory by accident. Keeping his guard up, he studied the driver carefully, weighing the risks of letting him pass versus probing deeper into this unusual encounter.
Several things caught the captain's attention and brought a smile to his face. 'Young mistress' = girl, 'buy goods' = money.
The wagon exuded wealth, from its polished wood to the well-dressed man who guarded it. The captain's mind raced. Whoever owned this lavish transport was likely rich—and if the girl inside was the daughter of a powerful noble, she could be more than a ransom; she could be a bargaining chip to secure alliances or connections for his boss.
This was an opportunity to curry favor and line his pockets.
"Of course," the captain said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"If you want to reach your destination, you'll need to pass through Liberdade City." He pointed with his chin toward the sprawling silhouette in the distance. "But I wouldn't recommend it. That place isn't called the City of Bandits for nothing. The moment your wagon enters, you'll be attacked."
The driver's face hardened briefly, his polite smile slipping as he weighed the situation.
"Thank you for the warning, sir," he finally said, his pleasant tone returning. "But what would you suggest we do in this case?"
The captain stroked his beard, feigning thoughtfulness. "Hmm... We could offer you a solution. Stay in our camp while we arrange an escort to guide you safely to the other side. It shouldn't take more than a few hours, and you can use the time to rest." He paused, his gaze shifting meaningfully to the wagon. "But, of course, there's a fee. And for security reasons, we'll need to search your wagon first."
Without waiting for a response, he signaled three guards to begin the inspection. The others stayed close, observing the driver.
When the guards gave the all-clear, the captain walked to the back of the wagon and pulled the door open.
His breath caught.
Inside sat a girl, no older than fifteen, with fiery red hair and striking eyes that seemed to glow against her pale skin. She wore a pristine white dress under a luxurious red fur coat that screamed nobility. She was engrossed in a book, her delicate fingers flipping a page with casual grace.
The captain stared, a dark hunger creeping into his gaze. But as if sensing his intentions, the girl slowly turned to meet his eyes, her expression icy, her gaze sharp with a flicker of hostility.
Her anger—and the faint trace of killing intent—pricked at his pride, but he was used to noble girls reacting like this. It only made her more valuable.
"Pardon my rudeness, young miss," he said, bowing low. "I seem to have stared for too long."
The bow was a calculated move to hide the predatory grin tugging at his lips. He glanced around, noticing three ornate wooden cases—exactly the kind used to store gold coins. His heart raced at the prospect of the riches they might contain.
The girl didn't respond, her face now devoid of emotion.
"Freaking rich kids," he thought, biting back a sneer as he stepped away.
"My name is Talin and I am the leader of the guards at this gate. You and your driver seem to have accidentally stumbled upon this place," the captain said. He was back to suppressing his menacing smiling as evil thoughts crowded his mind again.
"We are offering to escort and protect you from the vicious bandits of this region. As our men prepare, we are offering you a place to rest. You wouldn't mind right?" the captain asked.
Regardless of her answer, he had no intention of letting them go. Agreeing to his offer only meant that he didn't have to use force to bring them inside.
"I would be grateful," she said, "I will reward you and your men for your services."
"Excellent," he said. He did not even bother hiding his crooked smile this time around. His mind was deep in the gutter.
"Oh, by the way," the captain said, as he was about to close the doors to the wagon, "I never got your name young miss?"
He got spat on when he asked this question to the other young girl earlier. Thinking of her annoyed him a little despite having used her to relieve his urges.
"Annabeth," the 16-year-old, red-haired girl replied, "My name is Annabeth."