Evelyn smoothed her dark purple hair with careful hands, her reflection staring back at her from the polished mirror. The faint glow of lamplight softened the sharpness of her features, though it couldn't entirely banish the shadows that lingered in her dark eyes. She sighed quietly, adjusting the collar of her tunic, ensuring every fold was in place—a small ritual to steady herself.
The sound of footsteps drew her attention, and she turned just as Lancelot stepped into the room. His silver hair shimmered faintly, catching the light like moonlit frost, while his crimson eyes held a calm intensity that never failed to unnerve and reassure her all at once. Her heart skipped, an involuntary reaction she swiftly tamped down.
"We've got a mission," he said, his voice carrying its usual calm authority, though there was a faint curve to his lips—a smile just shy of teasing. "An escort."
Evelyn straightened, her curiosity piqued. "When do we leave?"
"In three days," he replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. His presence, even when relaxed, was always quietly commanding, as though the room itself adjusted to accommodate him.
She nodded, brushing her hands over her sleeves absently. "Who are we escorting?"
"A merchant caravan heading west," he said, his tone light but his gaze calculating. "It's a simple job, but there's been some talk of bandits in the area. Nothing we can't handle."
Evelyn tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You don't seem convinced it's just bandits."
Lancelot chuckled, a low sound that carried more weariness than humor. "It never is, is it?"
That earned a small smile from her, fleeting but genuine. "I'll prepare my things."
As Evelyn turned back to the mirror, Lancelot lingered for a moment, watching her. She moved with an elegance that seemed almost unconscious, but there was steel beneath it—he'd seen it firsthand. Yet, in moments like these, there was something fragile in the way she held herself, as though she were bracing against unseen waves.
"Don't overthink it," he said softly, stepping forward. "You've got this."
Her hand stilled on the edge of the mirror, and for a moment, she met his gaze through the glass. The corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. "You always say that."
"Because it's always true," he replied simply.
"Well makes sense for a monster like you," Evelyn replied as the two of them got ready.
Three days later, the two of them moved to meet the merchants they were escorting and begin the mission.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting long shadows across the southern gate of Thalendris. The caravan was a modest one, though clearly well-funded, with sturdy wagons reinforced with steel and horses that looked far better groomed than most. Merchants scurried about in a flurry of last-minute preparations, shouting at workers and adjusting crates.
Evelyn and I approached the gathering, our cloaks drawn tight and the enchanted disguises we wore dulling the sharpness of our youthful features. We moved with deliberate calm, the practiced ease of adventurers who'd seen more than most would believe.
At the center of the commotion stood a portly man in an ornate jacket—Orlan, the merchant in charge. His gold-trimmed collar and thick rings spoke of wealth, but the wary way he surveyed the group suggested he wasn't a stranger to danger.
As his gaze landed on us, his brow furrowed slightly. "You're... the A-class adventurers?" he asked, disbelief lacing his tone.
"We are," I replied, keeping my voice steady but letting just enough steel edge my words to remind him of our rank. "Arlen and Elsie."
Orlan gave us a dubious once-over before grunting. "Well, I suppose the Guild knows what they're doing... most of the time." He glanced at the other adventurers gathered nearby. "You're not the only ones on this job. We've got a full team."
I turned my gaze toward the rest of the escort group, silently assessing them.
The first to catch my eye was a tall woman with auburn hair tied back into a tight braid, a greatsword resting across her back. Her mismatched armor spoke of countless battles, and her stance was solid, unshakable.
She stepped forward and extended a hand. "Raine Verad, B-class adventurer." Her grip was firm, her voice brisk but not unfriendly. "You must be the A-class backup Orlan keeps bragging about."
"Arlen," I introduced myself, shaking her hand with a practiced strength. "This is Elsie." Evelyn gave a polite nod from under her hood.
Raine raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on Evelyn's cloaked form for a moment before nodding. "Good to have you. Let me introduce the rest of the team."
Behind her stood a wiry man in leather armor, daggers strapped to his thighs. He gave a sly grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Darrin," he said, his voice smooth. "C-class, if you're wondering. I'm here to make sure no one sneaks up on us."
Beside him was a hooded mage whose robes shimmered faintly with enchanted threads. Her arms were crossed, her expression cool as she offered a curt nod. "Lys," she said simply. A faint pulse of mana surrounded her, enough to suggest she was a competent caster without revealing too much about her abilities.
Further back, a heavily armored knight adjusted his gauntlets, the plates of his armor clinking softly. "Garret, B-class," he said, his tone gruff. "I'm the shield, obviously."
"And I'm Mara," said the last member of the group, a slim archer with a quiver slung over her shoulder. Her sharp green eyes studied us with quiet curiosity. "B-class as well. Good to meet you."
The group was a diverse one, each member bringing a different set of skills to the mission. It was clear Orlan wasn't taking any chances—hiring two A-class adventurers alone would have been costly, but a full team of this caliber spoke of either paranoia or a very real threat.
"So," Raine said, crossing her arms as she glanced between Evelyn and me, "A-class, huh? Haven't seen you two around these parts before."
"We travel often," I replied smoothly. "Our assignments usually take us far from the central regions."
"Fair enough," Raine said, though there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "Well, if you're as good as your rank suggests, this should go smoothly. The Guild rarely assigns A-class adventurers unless there's a damn good reason."
"Speaking of which," I said, turning to Orlan, "what exactly are we escorting that warrants this level of protection?"
Orlan's face darkened slightly, his fingers fiddling with one of the gaudy rings on his hand. "Rare goods," he said vaguely. "Expensive enough to attract... unsavory types. Bandits, mercenaries, maybe worse."
I caught the hesitation in his voice, but I didn't press him. Not yet, at least.
"All right," I said, turning back to the group. "When do we leave?"
"Within the hour," Orlan replied. "We'll be traveling through the Havenwood Pass. It's the quickest route to the trade hub at Silverglade, but it's not without its risks."
Havenwood Pass. The name rang a bell, and not a good one. It was infamous among adventurers for its treacherous terrain and the bandit groups that often prowled its winding paths. If Orlan's cargo was as valuable as he claimed, it was practically a beacon for trouble.
"Understood," I said. "We'll be ready."