The march to the Seventh Princess's estate began at dawn.Mist clung to the stone roads like a second skin, wrapping the seventy soldiers in a gauze of breath and quiet anticipation. Himmel led at the front, his armor dull from travel, the light catching faint glints of silver across the plates. Texan walked beside him, his grin a little too wide for someone carrying responsibility this heavy. Gumbo followed close behind—massive now, his fins shifting slightly with every step, the sound of his claws scraping stone echoing faintly in the still morning.
The soldiers were an uneven mix: half-armored, half-drunk on ambition. Some looked proud to follow; others were still trying to understand why they were marching for a princess they had never met. Himmel noticed the uncertainty but didn't blame them. Seventy wasn't an army—just a start. Enough to make a difference, but not enough to change the war.
When the estate finally came into view, the mist parted like a curtain. The princess stood at the gate, flanked by her guards. She wore no crown, no robes—just light armor trimmed in gold and a cloak the color of dusk. Her expression softened when she saw Texan and Himmel at the front.
"You brought them," she said simply.
Texan nodded. "Most of them walked here on their own. I just gave them a reason to keep walking."
Her smile was brief but genuine. "That's more than most commanders manage. Come—I want to show you what you've earned."
They followed her up a narrow path carved into the mountainside. The road wound between jagged cliffs, wide enough for two at most, and after nearly half an hour, the terrain opened into a vast basin. The air thinned, cooler now, the smell of pine and iron thick around them.
The place was a fortress disguised as wilderness. A single main path led in—a choke point that would bottleneck any army foolish enough to attack. Past it stretched a wide expanse surrounded by towering cliffs, the walls themselves veined with mineral glint and dotted with small openings. Some were tunnels, some vents—but all potential escape routes, difficult to navigate without a guide.
Texan's eyes widened. "You built this?"
The princess shook her head. "No. We found it. It was once a mining site, abandoned long before the old wars. The tunnels still hold veins of ore. Iron, silver, even something that glows blue at night. My scouts say it's stable enough for rebuilding."
Himmel whistled low. "Perfect position. One way in, ten ways out."
"Exactly," she said. "A temporary home, but a strong one. You'll stay here for now. We'll build new quarters, armories, and stables. The mountain will feed us until the capital remembers who we are."
As she spoke, Gumbo wandered toward one of the tunnel mouths and snorted curiously, a puff of steam rising from his nostrils. The nearby guards froze, unsure if they should stop him. Himmel only chuckled. "Don't worry—he's smarter than he looks. If there's food or ore in there, he'll find it."
Texan grinned. "That's the Gumbo guarantee."
The princess allowed herself a small laugh. "Then he's already more useful than most mercenaries I've hired."
She led them deeper into the mountain's heart. Torches flickered along the walls, and after a short walk, they entered a cavern so large the ceiling vanished into shadow. Piles of gold and ore glittered faintly from one corner, and in the center stood a stone table carved with sigils—the princess's treasure chamber.
"Two of the five conditions completed," she said, her voice echoing softly. "You've brought soldiers and that recommendation letter. That deserves a reward."
From a chest beside her, she lifted two items. The first was a pendant, black and silver, shaped like a serpent biting its own tail. "The Pendant of Greed," she explained. "It stores the possessions of those you slay. But once you withdraw something, it can never return inside. Choose wisely what you take."
Himmel turned it over in his hand, feeling the faint pulse of contained magic. "Fair enough."
The second was a thin band of metal, curved into a half-ring. "And this," she said, "is the Nose Ring of the Hunt. It heightens your sense of smell—useful for tracking, detecting poison, or finding prey."
Texan's brow lifted. "That's… actually useful. Better than another sword."
The princess smiled faintly. "I don't waste resources on decoration."
Texan hesitated before pulling something from his pouch—a small blossom wrapped in cloth. When he unwrapped it, the petals shimmered faintly between ivory and black. The Probability Flower.
"I got this from the First Prince," he said. "Thought you'd make better use of it."
For a moment, the princess looked surprised—genuinely so. She took the flower with careful hands, her expression softening. "This is rare, Texan. Dangerous, too."
"Yeah, fifty-fifty shot between glory and being fertilizer," he said lightly.
Her smile widened. "Then you'll appreciate this in return." She reached into her chest once more and revealed a simple silver ring, its surface etched with small runes that pulsed faintly. "The Ring of Sensitivity. It heightens touch—lets you read vibrations, feel tension in metal, or sense movement through air. A tool for survival as much as combat."
Texan accepted it, turning it between his fingers before slipping it on. His eyes flicked up, appreciation clear. "Guess I owe you one."
"You already paid," she said, nodding toward the soldiers outside. "That's more than I expected."
The princess dismissed them soon after, and they stepped out into the crisp mountain air again. The soldiers were already setting up camp—pitching tents, clearing rubble, hauling supplies into the tunnels. Himmel watched them for a while before glancing at Texan.
"She's right," Himmel said. "That's more than she expected."
Texan tilted his head, smirking. "But not enough to win a war."
"Not yet."
They walked toward the edge of the camp where Gumbo was gnawing on what looked like a boulder with quiet contentment. Himmel scratched his snout absent-mindedly.
"So," Texan said, breaking the silence. "We've got eleven days left before the Wild Lands. Five days' travel. Six to kill."
Himmel crossed his arms. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Death Pits."
Himmel sighed. "You just can't stay out of trouble."
Texan grinned. "Hey, it's good press. The nobles watch those fights. If I make enough noise down there, some of them might start betting on the Seventh instead of the First."
"You can't send me," Himmel said. "Orcs don't fight in the pits unless they're slaves. It'd draw attention we don't need."
Texan nodded slowly. "I know. I'll go. You handle things here, make sure the recruits don't burn down the mountain."
Himmel smirked. "You really think you'll win?"
Texan looked toward the horizon, where the first flicker of distant city lights glowed like embers. "I don't plan to lose."
Gumbo snorted, shaking dust from his hide.
Himmel smiled faintly. "Guess that makes three of us."
As the sun dipped behind the cliffs, the camp came alive with new light—torches flickering, hammers striking, laughter echoing against stone. It wasn't a kingdom yet, not even close. But it was something.
And for now, that was enough.
That night, the mountain didn't sleep.
While the others rested, Texan sat awake by the fire, rolling the new ring between his fingers. Its runes caught the flame's glow, throwing shards of silver light across his knuckles. Himmel slept a few feet away, his breathing steady, his axe resting beside him. Gumbo's rumbling snore shook the ground like distant thunder.
Texan's eyes lingered on the horizon—the faint red glow of the capital far below. Somewhere in that city, men were already betting lives on the next battle, on the next spectacle of blood. The Death Pits would be waiting.
He slipped the ring onto his hand and smiled faintly."Let's see if luck's still with me."
The fire popped, and for a brief second, the sparks looked like falling stars.
Tomorrow, the killing would start.