The sun was gradually disappearing beyond the horizon, casting an amber glow over the quiet town of White Deer.
A group of soldiers guarding the town gate yawned, restless in the waning daylight.
Suddenly, a nauseating stench filled the air, freezing everyone in place.
The soldiers instinctively stepped back, their eyes wide with horror.
A towering cartload of severed demon heads trundled into view, piled so high it seemed as though it would crush the cart beneath it.
The heads, mouths agape in frozen snarls, bore expressions of unbridled fury and terror even in death.
Dark red blood seeped from the severed necks, dripping onto the cart and staining the ground below.
The pungent, metallic smell pervaded the air, sickening all who caught a whiff.
"What on earth is this?" whispered one soldier, his eyes wide with unease as he stared at the dreadful sight.
Two villagers pushing the cart straightened their backs, a hint of pride breaking through their fatigue.
They glanced disdainfully at the recoiling soldiers, one of them muttering under his breath, "They're just corpses. Nothing to be afraid of."
Ahead of them, Richard held the reins firmly, his gaze unwavering as he led the grim procession.
Riding beside him was Edward, seated upon his old horse.
His clothes were soaked in dried blood, casting an eerie, foreboding aura in the dusk's fading light. His expression was calm as he surveyed the onlookers.
"Hang these heads on the city walls," Edward ordered in a cold, unyielding tone, "so every lurking demon in this town understands the fate that awaits them."
Nearby, a small crowd of vendors and soldiers trembled, unable to bring themselves to move any closer.
Whispers flitted through the throng. Could this blood-soaked, stone-faced man really be Edward—the same man who once roamed the streets in a drunken stupor, picking fights?
This figure, his posture erect and his presence tinged with death, seemed to bear no connection to the Edward they knew.
"He's… he's like a different person now," muttered one of the bystanders, sneaking another fearful glance.
Even the casual bystanders felt a curious reverence at the sheer number of demons he must have slain to garner such an aura.
Under the townspeople's astonished stares, Edward walked through the town gates with quiet dignity, unfazed by the crowd's murmuring.
Amid the throng, Gwen caught sight of him, gasping softly as she covered her mouth.
She watched him for a moment, handed her bag to a servant to send home, and then followed him, keeping to the shadows.
Richard, leading the procession, collided with a group of off-duty, intoxicated patrolmen.
One of them, Jefferson, swayed, catching sight of the blood-streaked man on horseback and stammering out Edward's name, "E-E-E-Edward!"
The sight of the two carts, overflowing with severed demon heads, left Jefferson reeling in terror.
The largest head, seated at the peak, still wore a frozen snarl, a ghastly reminder of its violent end.
Deep red blood trickled from its eyes, staining the wood of the cart.
"Get lost!" Richard barked, kicking Jefferson back a step.
Jefferson staggered, quickly gathering his wits, and retreated, planning to alert Secretary Jack immediately.
…
Once the villagers had left, Edward handed them a few bills with a faint smile, barely masking his exhaustion.
"Thank you for helping us bring this here. Get yourself a decent meal with this."
The villagers accepted the money with murmured gratitude, but they looked at Edward with a hint of reverence.
"Thank you, sir! You're our village's hero!"
Edward's hand trembled slightly as he let go of the money, his fatigue catching up with him.
Richard quickly led the villagers away, leaving Edward alone with his thoughts.
Though he appeared calm, his muscles throbbed, worn from the brutal fight.
As he exhaled deeply, trying to relax, he noticed Gwen standing just a few steps away.
"Have you been following me all this time?" Edward asked, with a trace of amusement in his voice.
"I knew it," Gwen replied, unbothered by his apparent realization, her voice carrying a faint challenge.
"So where are you headed?"
"To my mistress's house. Yours is too far," he said without a trace of embarrassment, grinning as he saw her reaction.
Gwen, however, remained unfazed.
This fit her image of Edward all too well.
"Then I'm coming with you," she said, raising her head to meet his eyes directly.
Edward's expression shifted, a hint of surprise crossing his face before he shrugged indifferently.
"Suit yourself," he said, turning and leading the way toward Caitlin's home.
As they navigated the narrow, dimly lit streets of the poor district, Gwen wrinkled her nose at the oily, polluted air.
Meanwhile, Edward's disheveled, bloodstained appearance commanded wary glances from anyone who passed by, making Gwen's presence beside him stand out even more.
Arriving at the humble door of Caitlin's home, Edward's eyes settled on the freshly mended wall, a silent testament to his earlier instructions.
He knocked, and after a moment, hurried footsteps approached.
Caitlin's face appeared in the narrow opening, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of Edward's bloodstained appearance.
She instinctively moved to shut the door, but Edward pushed it open before she could.
Striding inside, Edward pulled off his bloody coat and handed it to Caitlin without a second thought.
She took it reflexively, her face paling as the thick stench of dried blood hit her.
"Boil some water; I need a bath," Edward said flatly, as Gwen stepped into the doorway.
Caitlin's surprise only deepened when she recognized her.
"Lady Gwen?" Caitlin stammered, her voice thick with surprise.
Gwen glanced around, surveying the modest interior with a raised eyebrow.
"I didn't expect you to live somewhere like this," she remarked.
Hearing her, Edward's attention shifted back to the two women, his brow raised in mild curiosity.
"Wait, you two know each other?" he asked, glancing between them.