Drogov limped through the rich and poor districts, leaning on Annora for support. By the time they had reached the marketplace, the sun had begun to rise.
They saw the caravan. A large carriage, with people who pretended to be merchants, selling fresh vegetables and taking business from the other stalls.
"You're here." A figure in a brown cloak came over. It was Carmella, who stepped over with worried eyes.
"I almost thought you had left me behind." She sighed in relief. "Here." She handed over a pouch. "A tall man with a… strange mustache told me to give this to you."
Conrad. Drogov thought, as he took the pouch. It felt heavy.
He opened it, and the first thing he saw was a letter. To your retirement. It read, and as he pulled at it, he saw the gleam of gold.
He hurriedly shut back the pouch.
"Let's get into the Caravan first." He told the other two, and they nodded.
The trio cut through the crowd, made past the merchants and circled around to the back of the caravans. He cautiously scanned each, rubbing his finger across the grain as he did so.
Finally, he found it. A caravan with a strange symbol carved into the wood. It was circular, with a cross cutting through it, and various horizontal lines on each side.
"It's this one." He told them, and guided the two ladies inside, before following.
It was spacious inside, a typical open carriage, except for this one, there was a frame over the top with cloth draped across them to hide what was inside.
Drogov immediately laid back inside, and Carmella came over, tending to his wounds.
"Wow! This was something serious huh?" She exclaimed as she wrapped his abdomen using a torn piece of cloth from her cloak.
"Horrible." Drogov covered his face with a hand.
Carmella frowned as she tightened a knot, then looked over at Annora and smiled.
"But worth it?" She asked.
Drogov lifted his arm. "Definitely."
Carmella was done, and Drogov quickly fell asleep as the caravan set off. By the time he had woken up, he was on the hillside, looking at a familiar beaten path as he stepped off the wagon with the girls.
"Where to now?" Carmella asked, and Drogov look over with a raised eyebrow.
Carmella scratched her head in embarrassment. "To be honest, I didn't think about where I would go after I left."
Drogov shook his head with a chuckle.
At that moment, a rickety old hay wagon made its way up the road and an old farmer drove the ox forward with a bored look. Drogov waved him down, and the man's eyes lit up in recognition, and the wagon slowed to a halt in front of the trio.
Carmella was the first to go up, then Annora as Drogov lifted her onto the hay, finally, Drogov got on and the wagon rolled away. Annora cuddled up to him, falling asleep against his chest, and in his cloak, while Carmella looked out, eyes unblinking as she took in the beauty of the world before her.
Drogov felt at peace. He pulled the pouch from his pocket, finally removing the letter. Underneath was a pile of gold coins, each coin enough to feed a family for months, but he ignored this, he was more curious about what was written.
To your retirement. It read. He unfolded it and began to scan through.
'Drogov, my old friend. This line of work is no longer for you. In fact, it never was. I remember the first day they brought you in. Back then, you were just a child, like all the new recruits, but unlike them, you had never known warmth. Maybe that's why I took you under my wing. You reminded me of myself, except you were more naïve.
The organization will never let anyone go, you know that now, that's why I never retired despite a hundred missions. I always wanted to tell you, but I never wanted to take away your hope. If you're reading this, then I managed to clear the path for you, so live. Never return to The Order of the Aniac Eye. Lead a life of your own.
There were too many children lost, too many tears shed, too many tales of darkness in this world. Me and you, we've seen most if not all. But, there are good stories too. Find them, and live in peace.
Your friend, and brother of separate blood,
Conrad.
Drogov wiped at his eyes. He hadn't expected something so heartfelt. I'm finally free. He thought. What do I do with it?
"Hey, old man?" Drogov called out, and the farmer in front of the wagon turned. "Do you have any stories to tell?"