After a brief checkup by the guards at the entrance, the four of them climbed into the ordered wagon in front of the Synod's gates.
The horses pawed nervously at the snow, steam rising from their nostrils into the cold air. Metal clinked softly as Brynja sorted the reins and took her seat on the driver's bench. With a short jolt, the wagon began to move, wood creaking, wheels crunching over frozen ground.
Noen took a seat up front, close to Brynja. His gaze was fixed firmly on the road ahead—alert, focused. Every now and then he lifted a hand slightly or gave a short signal when they needed to turn or take a different route. Brynja followed his directions without a word—precise, routine.
On the back of the wagon sat Thornec and the young man.
The now unmasked boy had his shoulders slightly drawn in, but he sat upright. His hands rested calmly on his knees. No more trembling. No frantic glances around. Just a cautious tension, as if he knew that one wrong sentence could ruin everything.
Thornec leaned back, studied him from the side for a moment, then turned halfway toward him.
"Hey, kid," he said casually, almost offhandedly.
"What's your name, anyway?"
The boy flinched barely noticeably, then lifted his gaze.
"Fenn," he answered.
His voice was calm.
Much calmer than before.
"Fenn, huh," Brynja repeated from the front.
She didn't sound convinced.
Without taking her eyes off the road, she tilted her head slightly back—just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye.
"And why exactly," she asked calmly,
"can we trust you, Fenn?"
A brief moment passed.
Fenn swallowed.
His gaze flicked to Noen, then back forward.
"I… um…"
Noen leaned closer to Brynja so Thornec could barely hear and whispered something into her ear.
Brynja listened.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And we can really trust him?" she whispered back, never taking her focus off the wagon.
Noen whispered a few more words.
Brynja slowly exhaled.
The wind swept over the wagon, making the fabric of her colorful clothing flutter. The horses snorted softly.
Then she straightened up again.
This time, she turned her head fully toward the back.
Her gaze met Fenn's directly.
"Okay," she said at last.
"Then I'll trust you on this."
Her voice was calm.
But cold.
"But I've got my eye on you, Fenn."
The wagon slowly came to a stop.
The wheels crunched one last time over the frozen ground, then silence fell. Cold air lay heavy over the place, exactly like before. The same. Too empty.
They had arrived.
Noen jumped down from the wagon first. His gaze immediately swept over the ground, over the grass, the snow, every uneven patch. Brynja followed him, then Thornec, and finally Fenn.
And just as feared—
Neither of them was there anymore.
No bodies.
No fresh tracks.
Only trampled grass, patches of melted snow, and that unpleasant emptiness that said: You're too late.
Brynja paused by the wagon and calmly laid a hand on the horses' necks. She stroked them gently, a quiet sign of gratitude. The animals snorted softly.
"Shit, I'm such an idiot!"
Noen slapped his hand against his head, frustrated, angry at himself.
Brynja stepped up to him and placed her hand calmly on his shoulder.
"What else were you supposed to do?" she said firmly.
Noen pressed his lips together.
"This is really not good…" Fenn said desperately.
He looked around hectically, as if hoping to still spot someone.
"That can only mean one thing…"
He paused.
A noticeable one.
Heavy.
"No need for such a dramatic pause, hahahaha!" Thornec shouted and laughed loudly.
But no one laughed with him.
Noen stayed silent.
Brynja didn't change her expression.
Fenn only looked more tense.
Thornec's laughter died in his throat.
"…"
He cleared his throat.
Fenn lifted his head.
"They've undoubtedly headed for Ashfold," he said at last.
"In a few days, there's a meeting there of the upper figures from the surrounding areas within seven days."
Noen looked at him.
"That means Roseshire, Halmswick, Bleakreach, and Whiteford."
Thornec crossed his arms, visibly still annoyed.
"To discuss what?" he asked sharply.
Fenn lifted his shoulders slightly.
"I don't know exactly," he said honestly.
"We set out many days ago. We didn't get any prior information about it."
Noen immediately raised his head.
"Then the plan is simple."
He made a short, determined hand gesture.
"Find this Jorik, capture him, and force him to answer—"
"If only it were that simple…" Fenn interrupted him.
Everyone looked at him.
"They'll all be wearing masks," he continued.
"Try picking the right one in that crowd."
Noen bit his lip.
Thornec sighed deeply and briefly rubbed his face.
"Besides, I honestly don't know if we should even be focusing on that right now, Noen," he said then.
"What would that information actually give us at this moment?"
He looked directly at Noen.
"Our goal is to free the people of Halmswick from Beldrin's grip."
Brynja nodded in agreement.
"Exactly."
Thornec lowered his gaze briefly, thinking.
"Besides…" he said slowly,
"I already have a suspicion of how they're doing it."
Noen was about to ask when—
"I could go alone!"
Fenn hastily raised his hand, as if he were in class.
All of them turned toward him.
"If you give me my mask back," he said quickly,
"I can just go in and find out everything they're planning!"
The words hung in the air for a moment.
A risky suggestion.
"Could work," Thornec finally said.