The weight of her pack settled more evenly across her shoulders as Lyra adjusted the straps, rolling her shoulders to get used to the heavier load. The market had been generous - almost too generous. She took a crisp bite of an apple she'd had pushed into her hands from an eager trader, the tart juice sharp on her tongue as she mulled over the provisions she had managed to amass. At first, she had merely accepted what had been freely given, feeling little need to correct the mistaken assumption that she was acting on official royal business. But after the first few traders practically shoved supplies into her hands, she had started feeling the prick of guilt.

  The armband she wore had done most of the work for her, making people fall over themselves to provide whatever she might need. Flint. Dried meats. A new water skin. Fresh bandages. Even a finely crafted bedroll - far better than the worn-out one she had been using for the past year. Lyra had made sure to tip most of them well. She wasn’t one to reject an opportunity when it presented itself, but even she had her limits. Letting people believe she was acting under official Crown authority sat in her stomach like swallowed lead.

  Then again, was it really a lie? She had been a member of the Royal Guard once. The only falsehood was that she was still part of the regiment. That she still stood beneath the royal banner, serving a King and Crown that she had once protected without hesitation. Everything else was the truth.

  She sighed through her nose, taking another bite of the apple as she pushed the thought aside. The lie - if it was even that - was already spun. There was no undoing it now. Instead, she turned her attention to the real problem at hand.

  Korie didn’t have a horse.

  The thought nagged at her, refusing to be ignored. That issue still had no good solution. She could buy him one - though the idea of spending her own coin on him made her skin prickle with irritation. The other, more likely solution was still the one she didn’t want to think about. Sharing Orion. She bit down harder than necessary on the apple.

  Orion could handle the weight of them both. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was her. She had grown used to riding alone, moving on her own terms, being in complete control. Having Korie sitting behind her, pressed against her back, moving with her-

  She shuddered involuntarily.

  She would deal with it when the time came.

  Life was never so simple, of course.

  Korie could see them from afar, a light commotion in the distance where the stables were as he and Lyra approached. People were gathered around the pebbled road, watching as a man clad in yellows and blacks spoke with a finger raised up. It was difficult to tell his words apart from the slight crowd from that distance, despite the way his tone seemed to rise in pitch and volume. He was a noble, obvious by his choice of attire; a rich yellow tunic, its velvet fabric shining under the sunlight, along with a black coat, its stitching also yellow and carefully crafted by a master of the needle.

  The man who owned the horse he'd stolen? The possibility was not so far-fetched. When he'd gone to steal it he did remember a blur of a man outside the stable. The thought of the man recognizing him made his stomach coil and his nerves spark up light across his cheeks and neck. And how would he not recognize Korie, what with his glowing cheeks and ashen skin?

  "That's the man whose horse I stole," He whispered quietly at Lyra, trying not to think about the connotations of admitting a crime to a royal guard. Lyra hadn't seemed to care particularly about his crime, what with how she'd brought him out of jail without question. Which was... odd, in hindsight. He did know Lyra was there specifically for Tarek, though. Maybe she had no time to be pursuing a small-time injustice. It's not like Korie understood how the royal family’s guard systems worked.

  A sigh left her, a quiet sound of annoyance, before she flicked her gaze back to Korie, her expression flat and unimpressed. "You would steal the horse of a noble…" she muttered, voice laced with tired exasperation.

  Korie winced at her words as though they struck him physically, knowing exactly how much he'd messed up now that the horse situation was unraveling. That inu jailer had insisted on finding out why he'd stolen that horse and, now that he knew who it belonged to, he was beginning to understand why the hound had been so frustrated.

  Lyra was still busy thinking about it when a voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She blinked and turned her gaze toward the stables, her brow furrowing.

  A crowd had gathered just outside the entrance. In the centre of it all, a noble, loudly announcing his presence with his words. Her steps slowed as she took him in. Fine clothes, though not ostentatiously so. A tunic lined with embroidery at the sleeves, well-fitted trousers tucked into boots polished to a dark sheen. He wasn’t trying to flaunt his wealth, but it was clear enough that he didn’t belong among common merchants and stable hands. Lyra narrowed her eyes slightly, her chewing slowing as a vague feeling of recognition prickled at her mind.

  She had seen him before. Somewhere.

  The familiarity was there - an impression rather than a name. A memory just out of reach, blurred around the edges. Where had she seen him?

  She searched her mind, combing through old encounters, the places she had visited, the faces she had met but no name surfaced. The only thing that was certain was that he was a noble and that was problematic.

  Nobles could be touchy. Especially when they had been wronged.

  Nobles caused trouble for everyone involved if they could, their judgment reserved only for people's finances. When it came to robbery of one of their many items (or pets in this case) they were unforgiving with how they delivered punishment. Their greed was unlike anything Korie had ever witnessed; he had a very negative opinion of those fancy, pompous folks because of it. He supposed their greedy behavior was the reason they had so much money in the first place, but nevertheless...

  That horse, the one he’d stolen, had been a quick one. He'd dashed through the streets of Brimmond quickly with it, the wind drying his eyes from the speed they'd picked up, and no horse-riding guards had been able to catch up to him. He could only hope that the horse was not one meant for races or those other sports that nobles would participate in, the ones Korie knew nothing about. Either way, he had no interest in stopping to talk to some noble whether they hated him or not. Sure, it was sad that he wouldn't be able to ride that kind stallion again, but it wasn't like he'd developed some sacred bond with it. It was but a horse.

  "Let's just hurry up and leave. I wouldn't want him to see me," He mumbled, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head and leaning his head down. He held the cloak's split down fabric together in front of him, making sure to hide every bit of his skin that might show or glow.

  Lyra had been in agreement with Korie for once - they needed to hurry up and leave. The sooner they were out of Zephyr Hollow, the better. If the noble caught sight of Korie, it would spell disaster. There was no telling what kind of recompense a man of his standing would demand for the theft of his stallion. Gold, jail time - hells, maybe even Korie’s life.

  Some nobles had a taste for blood over coin.

  The weight of her pack pressed against her shoulders as she picked up the pace, subtly urging Korie along with her. They were close to the stable doors, almost clear. She was already thinking ahead - to getting Orion saddled, to dealing with the unfortunate reality of Korie not having a mount, to leaving this town behind.

  They finally ended up close enough to pass by the man. They’d almost made it into the stables too, until he cleared his throat and called out to them in that arrogant accent. "Khm. Excuse me," He said, his tone clear as day. The crowd had disbanded by now, only a few lingering to chat amongst themselves, no longer paying attention to his words.

  Korie froze at the callout, feeling a wave of sheer dread throughout his being. He stayed still, not daring to turn and look at him.

  "You, with the royal family's emblem wrapped unto your arm," He spoke.

  The noble's voice rang out across the square, cutting through the hum of murmured conversation and the ever-present chime of the bells. The voice was firm, authoritative, and unmistakably directed at her. Lyra barely resisted the urge to sigh. So close.

  Korie was confused for a few seconds, ready to search himself for a symbol he did not remember having, when he turned to eye Lyra curiously. He wanted to speak with her?

  She slowed, glancing from the corner of her eye as the noble strode forward, his gaze sharp, his attention locked onto her. Not Korie - her. The armband.

  She had grown so used to its presence that she had nearly forgotten the weight it carried in the eyes of others. And of course, a noble would recognise it. The subtle deference it commanded, the expectation that came with it. Nobles - especially ones who thought themselves important - would never ignore the sight of a high-ranking royal guard through the streets. There was no avoiding it now. All she could do was try and control the conversation and ensure to steer it away from Korie.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  She adjusted her posture subtly, stepping in front of the elf with deliberate ease. Not rushed, not sharp. Just casual enough that it didn't look like she was blocking anyone's view - but precise enough that she was. She used every inch of her height, every ounce of presence to shift the noble's focus entirely onto her. Her hand slid onto the hilt of her sword, resting there - not in challenge, but in the same effortless way she had once carried herself in the capital. A silent reminder of who she was, who she had been.

  Her other hand? Measured. Polite. Practiced.

  She gave a shallow, proper bow, the kind she had once given in the halls of the royal court, before straightening with perfect ease. Her voice was steady, smooth and completely composed as she asked, "How may I assist you, my Lord?"

  A question wrapped in control, in purpose. She would handle this and Korie would not be seen.

  The noble kept his chin up, attempting to look down at Lyra but unable to due to their height difference. Lyra was tall and muscular, taller than most around her, and her presence took up space, what with her armor on top of it all. The man was stout in comparison, despite his height being about average for an elf. His attempt to establish a hierarchy in their interaction caused him to appear foolish to any bystander, but the man clearly insisted on acting that way and nothing would stop him.

  "I am Baron Vaelith Nightbloom, and, it would seem, the sole beacon of civilization in this backwater hamlet," The man spoke with a haughty ho, ho, a huff so desperate to appear superior that Korie almost let a laugh wheeze out his throat in reaction. He kept his head down, covering his mouth.

  If Lyra had been hoping that the noble’s name would help scratch the itch of familiarity in the back of her mind, she was sorely disappointed. Baron Vaelith Nightbloom. The name meant absolutely nothing to her. No distant recollections stirred, no half-formed memories surfaced. The familiarity she had felt upon seeing him remained vague and frustrating, a phantom recognition that refused to reveal itself. If anything, the only thing Baron Nightbloom was accomplishing right now was ensuring that she would never forget him - not for the weight of his title, but for the sheer, grinding irritation of dealing with him. Lyra had met plenty of nobles in her time. The self-important ones, the cunning ones, the obliviously privileged ones who had never known a day of hardship.

  And then there were the ones like this.

  "I do hope you have been conducting yourself with the decorum expected of one serving the Crown, despite being surrounded by such…" The noble paused, motioning vaguely towards the central market, "...simplicity. Either way, I must report a crime." The man cleared his throat, standing straight only to fix his tie.

  Korie figured this was the perfect opportunity to sneak off into the stable. Thanks to Lyra's intervention, he was safe from the wrath of a frustrating individual. It was... surprising, to see her act in a manner that was helpful to him, but he knew better than to assume she was only doing the right thing. She was playing a game, one where her goals came first, and he was simply a means to an end. He couldn’t bring himself to feel grateful; after all, she was the one who was desperate for his cooperation, not the other way around.

  "A most heinous crime at that! A brigand, a ruffian, a vile, muck-stained peasant has dared, dared! to lay his wretched hands upon my stallion, Aurelian, a dressage champion of impeccable pedigree. While he has been retrieved, and thankfully with not so much as a chip in his hoof, it has come to my attention that the criminal was released, not by the local authorities, no, but by someone with enough influence in the royal court to disregard the law entirely." The baron appeared entirely too smug as he spoke of the fact, making an obvious observation of the armband and the emblem it bore on Lyra's arm.

  Baron Nightbloom was currently cementing himself into her memory as one highly annoying individual whose only contribution to her life thus far was making it significantly more difficult.

  And whose fault was that?

  Lyra’s grip on the hilt of her sword tightened slightly, but not in response to the noble. This was entirely Korie’s fault. Irritation curled in her chest as she considered the last couple of days. If she didn’t need his knowledge so desperately - if he wasn’t the only lead she had toward Tarek - she had no doubt that her life would be easier if she had simply left him in the cells and let Baron Nightbloom do whatever he pleased.

  "It seems this thief’s release was not just a matter of circumstance, but a decision made under the weight of certain… considerations. A decision that might not sit well with those further up the chain, were they to learn of it." Hm, hm, the man hummed and nodded, a frown etched on his lips as though he was subtle in his insinuation that Lyra was to blame for his misfortunes. "Now, please, do introduce yourself properly. I’d be most eager to hear of your titles and honors." The baron bowed in return, his condescending tone clear as day.

  Oh, he was enjoying this.

  The way his gaze deliberately flicked to her armband, the emblem unmistakable in the light, told her everything. He was playing a game - a game where he already considered himself the victor. It was easy to hear the threat in the undertone of his words. Thinly veiled, but a threat nonetheless. She knew his type. Knew how these games were played. She could already hear the unspoken demand lurking beneath the words. This man thought he had her cornered. Thought she would stumble, would stammer, would scramble to appease him before he carried his grievances elsewhere. He was wrong.

  "I’d be most eager to hear of your titles and honours."

  A trap. She was meant to fall into it. To confirm who she was, to cement herself in his mind as someone who could be held accountable, someone he could use. Lyra inhaled slowly, deliberately, forcing herself to release the sharp breath she wanted to let out. This was precisely why she had wanted to leave quickly. She lifted her chin slightly, regarding the noble with the same assessing stare she had once used on bureaucrats who thought their self-importance meant something to her. And then, in perfectly measured, cool tones and a deliberate incline of her head, she responded.

  "Lady Lysandra Selvorin," she began. "First Blade. Third Sentinel. Commander of the King’s Vanguard. Keeper of the Sovereign’s Oath. Sworn Protector of the Realm."

  Her voice carried through the space with crisp precision, each title unfolding with the ease of muscle memory, as though she had never abandoned them. The Baron blinked. It was overdoing it, perhaps. First Blade and Third Sentinel were more than sufficient. They carried weight on their own, were more than enough to remind him exactly who he was speaking to. Though Lyra had indulged herself, and let herself relish it. Because why shouldn't she?

  Why shouldn’t she let him choke on the sheer magnitude of her former authority, after all the condescension he had just thrown at her?

  The moment stretched between them, the Baron’s once-smug expression faltering just slightly, the realisation settling in.

  And then, in the same calm, unshaken tone, she lifted her chin ever so slightly and asked,

  “Is that introduction sufficient, My Lord?”

  Just like that, the baron's confidence was shattered. Each title made his arrogant smile drop further and further as it was mentioned, until it was nothing and all he could do was stare at her. Process for a few moments. "That's... quite a few," He began to speak, licking his lips anxiously. The name was familiar to him, but the shock of such a high ranking royal guard existing in a little village such as that one had him scratching his head, his eyes flicking towards their surroundings, anywhere as long as he wasn't meeting her eyes.

  There was some commotion in the stables, but his attention had been sufficiently taken by the topic at hand. Her titles were impressive, grand and detailed; surely she was lying. He was not one to fall for such simple deceptions, no; he collected himself, swallowing down his shock as he realized more and more how easy it possibly was for this woman to lie. A woman, let alone a human being handed such egregious titles at such a young age? Nigh impossible, surely. Though her name did spark some vague recollection...

  Her name... was that not the name of--

  "Lady Selvorin," He squinted at her, his eyebrows furrowed as he began to come to a cold realization. "The Lady Selvorin? The one who's under suspicion of..."

  Before he could finish his thoughts, however, a far too familiar stallion trotted through between them far too casually, nearly stomping on them with how he'd guided it. Korie stopped the horse by a gentle pull of the reins, his hood still up as he bowed deep towards the Baron, a mocking maneuver that nearly caused him to lose balance and drop off the horse. "Aurelian! You-- you filthy thief!" The noble called out, clenching his hands into fists with anger as he began to stomp towards him. "Guards!"

  Korie met Lyra’s gaze and gave a quick nod toward the dirt road leading out of town. There was no time to waste. Behind them, Baron Nightbloom’s furious shouting rang through the air, and the clatter of armored boots followed as his guards rushed into view. Without hesitation, Korie tightened his grip on the reins and urged his horse forward. The beast surged ahead, hooves pounding against the earth as he raced for the open road, leaving Lyra to follow.

  For the first time since meeting Korie, Lyra was grateful for his existence. The Baron's words had been cutting too close, his realisation looming on the edge of something dangerous. She had known exactly how he would have finished that sentence and Lyra was not prepared to hear it - not now, not today. Then Korie had ridden straight through the middle of their confrontation, as infuriatingly casual as if he were out for a morning ride, and just like that, the entire direction of the conversation shattered. Lyra barely resisted the urge to sigh in relief as all of Baron Nightbloom’s pent-up suspicion and rage pivoted from her to the far more pressing sight of his stolen stallion - now once again being stolen.

  The thunder of armoured boots was all Lyra needed to hear. She didn’t waste a second.

  The chaos was exactly what she needed. While Korie had every set of eyes turned on him, she moved.

  Her boots were silent as she slipped away from the Baron’s wrath, weaving through the stables with the kind of ease that came from years of slipping in and out of places unseen. Orion was already saddled, waiting. She grabbed the reins, swinging up into the saddle with practiced ease. Her pulse was steady, but her thoughts weren’t. Using her name, her titles - it had been a risk. A calculated risk, but still, it had left her standing on the very edge of a blade. She had been fortunate. If she had been on the mainland, that same introduction would have ended with steel drawn against her throat.

  Lyra was well-travelled. She had walked through too many cities, too many halls, too many courts. Had stood before too many people who remembered names. And her name? Her name had once meant something. Even now, even in a place as remote as Zephyr Hollow, it still carried a weight that she could not fully shed. The Baron hadn't been certain but if he had been given a few more moments - if he had connected the dots just a little faster-

  She swallowed the thought down and turned Orion towards the road and she didn't hesitate. She gave Orion the signal, and he surged forward, powerful and steady, galloping after Korie as they tore through the town’s outer limits.