"This should do it." Oliver murmured to himself, his hands carefully placing the iron arrows into the designated compartments of the leather quiver. His movements were deliberate, each arrow finding its place before he sewed up the opening with practiced precision.
The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of the single lamp casting shadows on the scattered belongings around him. He sighed, scanning the mess as he mentally checked off the next item. "And now for the essentials." He stood up and began rummaging through a small chest by the wall, pulling out a few items: a worn-out flint, a pouch of coarse salt, and other tools necessary for the journey ahead. Oliver wasn't in the safety of his school dormitory but in the small, rented house on the outskirts of the academy grounds. The makeshift home had served him well, but now it felt empty as he prepared for what lay ahead.
Earlier that day, the vice-principal of the academy had gathered all the students set to journey to the border city, informing them that they had just half a day to rest and prepare before the next leg of their trip. Time was not on their side. There was no room for hesitation or second thoughts; every student returned to their quarters, packing for the long, arduous journey ahead.
Unlike before, Oliver wasn't just returning to the familiar; this time, his destination was the elves' territory, a place that would require careful preparation. He had no illusions about the unknowns he would face once he arrived. The journey was long, and he would have to spend time in the border city before venturing further.
"Salt, tools, some fire-starting ore…" he muttered as he tossed one item after another into his travel bag. Each item held weight not just in his hands but in his mind as well. These were the things that would sustain him; survival wasn't just about physical endurance but also mental fortitude.
After a quick count of his packed items, Oliver stood up, his muscles aching from the preparations. "That should be enough. Time for a shower." It had been weeks since he'd had a proper one. The coastal city where he had been stationed had a barely functioning water supply system, and with the unrelenting sea winds constantly blowing in, his skin felt sticky and uncomfortable. As he headed to the bathroom, the prospect of hot water felt like a distant luxury.
---
Half a day later, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the academy grounds as the vice-principal stood tall on the platform. His voice boomed across the courtyard. "Is everyone here?"
The teacher in charge of roll call nodded. "All accounted for, sir. Twenty-nine in total. Based on the previous list, ten students are heading to Joshua, and the rest will be going to Wali."
The vice-principal gave a firm nod. "Good. I'll spare you the long speech. Just remember; safety first. Now, everyone get in the carriages!"
The students didn't need to be told twice. They moved swiftly, some with a sense of purpose, others with visible excitement or nervousness. The carriages, though similar to those they had used on past trips, felt different this time. The journey ahead was more uncertain, the stakes higher.
Oliver found himself once again with his small group of companions. The five of them sat together as they had on their previous travels. Sandra, the most energetic of the bunch, couldn't contain her excitement. "I've never seen an elf before! Do you think they'll be as mysterious as the stories say?" she asked eagerly, her voice bubbling with curiosity. Lesley, ever the patient one, patted her on the back. "Calm down, Sandra. It's a long journey. Save your energy; you'll need it later."
Chris, the quietest of the group, had already settled into his seat, lying down to rest. He was the type who believed in conserving his energy whenever possible. Enola, however, seemed distracted, her eyes distant as she sat beside Chris. She absentmindedly sucked on a lozenge, her brow furrowed as though lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Oliver closed his eyes, leaning into the corner of the carriage. He wasn't one to speak unless necessary, and the others respected that. Silence settled over the group; not an awkward silence, but one born of the understanding that the road ahead would demand their strength and focus. It wasn't just the length of the journey that weighed on them; there was something else in the air, a quiet tension none of them could quite place.
As the sun rose higher, casting an oppressive heat on the academy grounds, the teacher leading the group turned to his colleague. "Where exactly are the students who are supposed to meet us waiting?"
"About a few hundred meters past Joshua," the other teacher replied.
The first teacher frowned. "I don't know… something feels off. I can't put my finger on it."
"You're being paranoid," the second teacher scoffed, dismissing the concern with a wave. "Everything will be fine."
"Maybe," the first teacher muttered, unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss.
---
Ten days passed without incident, the group finally arriving at the outskirts of Joshua. The journey had been uneventful, the rhythmic clattering of hooves and wheels the only sound for days on end. Lesley, Chris, and Oliver exchanged a few words here and there, but for the most part, the group remained quiet. Enola, however, had stayed mostly silent, her internal struggle evident in the way he fidgeted and avoided eye contact.
It wasn't until they had crossed the last hill before Joshua that Enola suddenly broke her silence. "Oliver, can I ask you something?"
Oliver glanced over, pulling himself out of his own thoughts. "What is it?"
Enola hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you had to choose… would you help the humans or the elves?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Oliver raised an eyebrow. "No context? No explanation?"
Enola stammered. "It's… hypothetical. Let's just say both sides are at fault."
Oliver smirked, leaning back in his seat. "If both sides are wrong, then I wouldn't help either of them."
Enola blinked, caught off guard. "Really?"
Oliver shrugged. "No point in getting involved in a mess if both parties are equally to blame."
"It's not wise to help anyone when both sides are flawed. So, why bother choosing at all? What's the issue?" Oliver's voice was calm but firm, his eyes fixed on the horizon rather than on Enola. He had sensed something odd in Enola's earlier questions, perhaps a connection to the Black Crow, but the real mystery was how Enola had gotten involved with that elusive Chamber of Commerce in the first place.
"Unexpected, that's all," Enola replied with a forced smile. She gave a small nod, her face strained, before turning her head to look out of the carriage window, retreating into his own thoughts.
The convoy continued its slow crawl forward, the rhythmic clatter of wheels barely cutting through the heavy silence between them. It wasn't until they crested a hill that the lead teacher broke the quiet.
"Those three up ahead must be our escorts," one of the teachers said, standing up and waving to the group of figures waiting at the base of the hill.
The teachers exchanged brief nods before one of the figures approached, his voice clear as he called out, "Thank you for your hard work, teachers. We'll take over from here."
"Much appreciated," the teacher responded, giving a quick, formal bow before urging his carriage to turn around, heading back the way they had come.
A man with an easy smile walked toward the students, his hands folded behind his back. "Greetings, everyone. I'll be guiding you the rest of the way into the city. Our superiors have been eagerly awaiting your arrival."
"Superiors?" Oliver raised an eyebrow. Something about that word unsettled him. Had these escorts joined a new organization? His instincts tensed, but for now, he kept his concerns to himself.
The two carriages, now under the guide's lead, descended the hill and arrived at the city gates. What greeted them was nothing short of shocking. The students collectively let out gasps, disbelief etched across their faces. This was supposed to be a city?
The city walls, once standing tall and imposing, were now crumbling; barely held together by the few bricks that hadn't yet succumbed to years of rain and decay. In many places, the stone looked ready to collapse at any moment, while the wooden city gates groaned ominously, so old and worn that they sent a chill up the students' spines.
Looking through a jagged hole in the gate, the inside of the city seemed even more derelict. Makeshift shops lined the streets, each barely standing with a few wooden poles and tattered pieces of cloth for roofs. The entire place looked as though it had been abandoned by prosperity long ago, leaving behind only remnants of what once was.
But what drew the most attention was the figure standing at the entrance; a man in a black coat, his smile almost too wide, too friendly. He appeared thin, with a genial face, like someone's affable uncle. Yet something about him unsettled the group.
It was Tom, the principal of Black Crow.
Oliver's fingers twitched involuntarily at the sight of him. Enola, standing a few feet away, lowered his head and said nothing, his body stiffening at the presence of the man.
"Welcome, students, to our humble city," Tom said with that same unsettling smile. "We've prepared plenty of food and comfortable accommodations for your rest. Please, come inside."
With a graceful bow, he stepped to the side, gesturing toward the gates in an exaggerated invitation. The gesture was polite, but Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He eyed Tom cautiously, ready to act if needed. How had this man, someone Oliver had never encountered before, come here so suddenly? What was his game?
Just as Oliver's hand inched toward his longbow, a sudden shout pierced the tense air.
"Oh!" The cry made Oliver's muscles tighten, his body preparing for a possible attack. He was ready to spring into action when the next words left him completely off guard.
"Niece! What a surprise to see you here!" The man's voice rang out as he rushed toward Enola, his laughter booming. "Come, let your uncle take a good look at you! Have you grown taller?"
Oliver's hand froze mid-reach, his eyes wide as he shot a look at Enola, whose face had gone pale. "Your uncle?" Oliver muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion. All those questions from before; what had Enola really been asking about?
Enola finally looked up, her voice hesitant as she greeted the man. "Uncle…"