"Moros, get up, time to eat something." It was Setia.
"Is it morning already?" Moros couldn't bring himself to get up.
"No, it's evening. Come on," she urged him.
Moros stood up, smoothed his wrinkled clothes, and followed Setia. The camp was bustling with noise, people sat around fires and chatted. They could even hear the sound of a lute. Next to the tent, a group of soldiers were playing cards furiously.
"Scepter,"
"Queen,"
"Apple for a queen,"
"You're crazy, you have a king."
"Fuck off and don't stare at my cards."
"Are you fucking playing or not?"
"Attu!"
"Such a jerk, those are spades, and here you have a club."
"You have a club in your pants..."
Moros didn't know this game. As he passed by the fires, he overheard bids and parts of conversation. Some boasted of their war experience, others of their conquests with the fairer sex. He also overheard talk of home and longing for family. Setia led him straight to the largest tent, which belonged to Rosnar. Inside, the unit commanders and their officers were already seated. Setia took the main seat next to Rosnar, and Moros sat next to her. The food served was simple: soup with pieces of meat and vegetables, and bread. Setia was busy talking to Rosnar, so Moros decided to eat what was in front of him.
"This isn't this the same as eating at a prince's table?" he heard from the side.
Moros turned around; it was the young mercenary with the scar. He sat down next to him and smiled kindly.
"I don't think so," he said, "but I'm so hungry that maybe this soup will become the best dish." Moros smiled having still in mind what he used to eat as a slave.
"Oh yes, hunger improves the quality of any food." "The young mercenary agreed and began eating, Moros following suit.
"Are you, sir, the ladie's brother?" the young man asked as he ate.
"Yes, and your name is... Zaren?"
"Actually, it's Zaran," the mercenary corrected, biting into the bread.
"Are you from Gemor?" Moros tried to scoop out a piece of meat with his spoon.
"My mother was from Gemor." Zaran's green eyes rested on Moros's face. "You, sir, also look Gemoric."
"Setia and I had different mothers," Moros repeated the lie they had previously established. "Mine was also from Gemor."
"So, we have something in common. How's the soup?"
"Not bad at all," Moros smiled. "It has surprisingly good flavour."
"The Duchess is a warrior, you don't often meet such women." Zaran handed the bread to Moros. "It's not easy under her orders, is it?"
"Just so you know," Moros laughed softly. "I'd never want to be her enemy, she can be ruthless." He tore the bread apart and inelegantly wiped the remnants of soup from his plate. "I'm enjoying this soup more and more," he apologized to Zaran.
"I'll bring a second helping; you never know when another hot meal will come along." Zaran jumped up and returned a moment later with the full dishes.
Setia finished eating and looked at Moros. He was lost in conversation with Zaran. She didn't like this scout. There was something about him… something she couldn't name, but it made her wary in his presence.
"Moros," she called to her stepbrother, "I'll be heading back to the tent. Tomorrow we have a long trek through the lowlands." Setia rose from her seat and looked at Zaran. "How's the road ahead? I hear you're a great scout, are you keeping an eye on us from the tent?"
Zaran rose and walked over to Setia; he was a head taller than she was.
"The road is clear, and I'll personally see to your safe sleep, madam, and I'll even gladly escort you to your tent," he said, extending his arm to her.
"I'll get to the tent on my own." Setia placed a hand on the mercenary's shoulder. "Save that arm for the other girls; they've probably taken up residence at the end of this camp." She winked knowingly and nodded to Moros in farewell.
The air outside the tent was crisp. Setia pulled her hood over her head and set off through the camp. She walked along the main path; her tent wasn't very visible, but she knew roughly where she was. A few soldiers were already sitting by the fires, the rest were asleep. Setia, too, was feeling tired. The last stragglers were joining their units and passing her by without a word. Suddenly, she felt a prickling pain in her back.
"Go slowly and don't scream, or I'll stick the dagger in your spine if you make a sound." She heard a whisper behind her ear.
"You know who I am?" Setia replied.
"I know, but you'll get to know me later." The attacker grabbed her arm and pushed her.
Setia walked slowly, the man placing his right hand on her shoulder and holding the dagger in his left behind her. Whoever her tormentor was, he didn't want her to die immediately, as he already had the opportunity. So she decided to wait for the right moment. As they passed the horses, a guard standing there asked.
"Who's there?"
"Changing of the guard," the man behind her replied, and they continued on. Setia walked calmly, feeling every muscle tense and ready. They were now at the side of the camp, between the wagons. The attacker pulled her close and pinned her down with his left hand, which held a knife. "I'll teach you respect, you nasty whore..."
Setia reacted immediately. With both hands, she grabbed her opponent's arm, yanked it down, and twisting his arm, she bent down, removing her head from under the attacker's dangerous grip. She quickly kicked him in the groin, still holding his twisted arm. The man groaned and fell to his knees, and Setia elbowed him in the back of the head. With a kick, she removed the knife. Before he could get up, she placed the dagger against his spine at the base of his skull and plunged it in, slowly twisting into his spine. The attacker groaned, and Setia rolled him onto his back and examined his face.The gold-toothed Daremon. Without a word, she grabbed his slippery tongue and cut it off. All she heard was gibberish and the choking of blood.
"I've done you in, you fucking son of a bitch," she said calmly, wiping the dagger on his clothes. "You'll never walk again. In the morning, someone will probably find you and the elder will say it's better to finish you off. I cut out your tongue so you won't talk nonsense anymore. Lie here and think about how The Duchess of Emfer punishes the idiots who try to kill her."
With those words, she tugged at the gold chains and removed the rings from his hands. "I will make it look like a robbery," she thought.
"I'm impressed! The action was carried out quickly and efficiently. And what cruelty," she heard behind her.