The morning sun crept over the walls of Vekara, casting a warm light on the newly built structures, but the peace that came with the dawn was fragile. Leon had barely slept. The thought of Grig's dealings haunted his every move. If Grig's trade had alerted the wrong people, then it wouldn't be long before the king's loyalists or worse, the king himself, came knocking on their gates.
Leon moved through the village, his eyes scanning every face he passed. The villagers were busy, their hands and minds focused on the endless tasks of rebuilding, unaware of the danger that could be looming just beyond the horizon. But Leon couldn't afford that luxury. Every decision, every trade, every new face brought with it a new risk.
As he approached the outer walls, Rourke was already there, overseeing the repairs to the northern section where the wood had been reinforced with stone. Rourke's keen eyes spotted Leon before he even made it to him.
"Morning," Rourke called, his voice gruff but friendly. "We've got the north wall almost done. A few more days, and it'll be solid."
Leon gave him a nod, though his mind was elsewhere. "Good. I want these walls finished as soon as possible. We can't afford any weaknesses."
Rourke studied Leon for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Still thinking about Grig?"
Leon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't trust him, Rourke. He's a snake, and snakes bite when they're cornered."
Rourke leaned on the wall, crossing his arms. "He's being watched, like you asked. My man's been tailing him since dawn, but so far, nothing. He's just been moving around the village, making his rounds. Seems calm, for now."
Leon nodded but remained unconvinced. "I'm not expecting him to slip up right away. But we have to stay ahead of him. If he's working with someone, if he's setting up more trades… we need to know."
Rourke pushed off the wall and motioned for one of his men to continue the work before walking alongside Leon. "You think he's going to try something?"
Leon's eyes scanned the village again, this time more carefully. "I think he's desperate. Desperate men are dangerous. If he sees an opportunity to sell us out for something bigger, he'll take it."
Rourke's face hardened. "And if he does, we'll handle it. You've got my word on that."
Leon stopped walking, turning to face Rourke fully. "If he makes one wrong move, we can't hesitate. We can't give him a chance to explain or we'll all be paying for it."
Rourke nodded, his usual laid-back demeanor gone. "I understand. I'll make sure my men are ready."
Satisfied with Rourke's assurance, Leon moved on, heading back toward the center of the village. He had more pressing matters to attend to now—the clinic, the training of the mercenaries, and keeping the village from unraveling under the pressure of its own growth.
He reached the clinic as Mara was stepping out, her apron already dusted with flour and herbs. She smiled when she saw Leon approach, though there was a glimmer of exhaustion behind her eyes. The clinic had seen a slow but steady trickle of patients since opening, and Mara had been thrown into the deep end of medical practice faster than either of them expected.
"Busy morning?" Leon asked, his voice softening as he looked at her.
Mara shrugged with a small smile. "The usual. A few cuts, a sprain. Nothing we couldn't handle. The villagers are starting to trust us more."
Leon smiled faintly. "Good. We need them to feel safe here."
Mara's smile faded as she noticed the tension in his posture. "You didn't come here to check on the clinic, did you?"
Leon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "No. I've got other things on my mind. Grig, mainly."
Mara's brow furrowed. "You still think he's up to something?"
"I know he is," Leon said flatly. "It's just a matter of finding out what and when. Rourke's got men on him, but it's only a matter of time before Grig makes his next move."
Mara leaned against the doorway of the clinic, crossing her arms. "You don't think he's just trying to help? Maybe for once, Grig is being sincere."
Leon shook his head. "Grig is never sincere. Everything he does is for his own benefit. If he's making deals, it's because he sees a way out for himself—something that doesn't involve staying loyal to Vekara."
Mara nodded thoughtfully. "And if that's the case?"
Leon's expression darkened. "Then we'll have to stop him before he does any damage."
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their decisions hanging between them.
Finally, Mara reached out, touching Leon's arm lightly. "We'll handle it, Leon. You don't have to carry everything on your shoulders."
Leon smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Someone has to."
Just then, Rourke appeared from around the corner, his face serious. "Leon, we've got something."
Leon turned, immediately alert. "What is it?"
Rourke motioned for him to follow. "My man spotted Grig heading out past the southern wall. Looked like he was trying to be discreet. He's going somewhere, and I don't like it."
Leon's pulse quickened. "Where is he now?"
"He's on foot, headed toward the forest," Rourke replied. "My man's following him from a distance, but I figured you'd want to know."
Leon's eyes darkened as he processed the information. "I do. Let's go."
Without another word, Leon, Rourke, and a small group of mercenaries set off toward the southern wall, their footsteps quick but quiet. As they neared the edge of the village, the dense trees of the forest loomed ahead, casting long shadows across the path.
Leon's mind raced with possibilities. Where was Grig going? Who was he meeting? And more importantly, how long had this been going on?
They reached the forest's edge, and Rourke's man—one of the more skilled trackers among the mercenaries—emerged from the shadows, his face tense.
"He's up ahead," the man whispered, pointing toward a clearing deeper in the forest. "He's meeting someone. I couldn't get close enough to hear, but I saw them exchange something."
Leon's heart pounded in his chest as he nodded to the others. "Stay close, but keep out of sight. We need to see what's going on."
With practiced stealth, Leon and the others crept through the trees, their footsteps silent as they moved closer to the clearing. When they reached the edge, Leon crouched low, peering through the underbrush.
In the clearing, Grig stood with his back to them, his posture tense. Opposite him was a man Leon didn't recognize—a traveler by the looks of his clothes, but there was something off about the way he carried himself. The two were speaking in hushed tones, though the words were lost to the distance.
Leon's eyes narrowed as he watched Grig hand something over to the man—coins, maybe, or a small pouch. The man nodded, slipping whatever it was into his cloak before turning to leave.
Leon motioned for his men to stay back, waiting until the stranger was out of sight before stepping into the clearing, his voice cold and sharp.
"Grig."
Grig spun around, his face going pale as he saw Leon and the mercenaries emerge from the trees. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked like a cornered animal.
"Leon! I—" Grig stammered, his words faltering.
"Don't bother," Leon interrupted, his tone icy. "Who was that? What are you doing out here?"
Grig's mouth opened and closed, but no words came. He was caught, and he knew it.
Leon stepped closer, his gaze hard as steel. "You've been lying to me, Grig. I want answers, and I want them now."
Grig swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the clearing as if searching for an escape. But there was none.