Connor was so sore. His back, his legs, his arms, everything ached. Even his neck protested as he looked around the Northern Guard's campsite.
Connor counted seven guards - not including his three companions - all uniformed and hard at work. Four tents were set up around a large firepit, an old guard with silver hair prodding the quiet flame encouragingly. There were two guards tending the horses, smiling and chatting to each other as they brushed their manes. One guard wearing a ridiculous wide-brimmed hat was speaking to another thin guard, laughing and joking together. Two young guards, or perhaps they were squires, stood at attention in front of the largest tent on either side of a closed flap. One, barely more than a boy with messy long hair, smiled and waved at Finn as they approached. The other, slightly older than his counterpart and bald, peeled back the tent flap and stuck his head inside.
Only when Finn tapped Connor on the shoulder did he realize he was staring. A woman exited the main tent. She was short but not petite, her muscles honed from training and discipline. She was dressed in a guards uniform, tailor made to fit comfortably around her breasts and wide hips. Her blond hair was cut short on the sides and taller on top, the thicker top messily spiked at an angle. She met Finn's eyes and walked confidently over to them.
Connor glanced over at Finn, his eyes wide. Growing up in the South, he understood that the Northerners were a little more liberal with gender roles, but to have a female captain?
Finn saluted the woman as she approached. "Sir, I present Connor Walsh."
The Captain waved her hand dismissively, and Finn visibly relaxed. "Welcome to our camp, Connor. I'm Captain Bronwyn Kaine," she introduced herself, offering a handshake.
Connor was stunned. She had a feeling of power to her, a testament to everything she would have had to sacrifice to attain such a position in the guard. Everyone around that camp must have felt it too, and they clearly respected her for it. He coughed to cover his shock and accepted the handshake. "Thanks," was all he could say.
"Captain," Finn interjected, "we found a body only about a day away from our position, to the South."
"South?" she responded, giving him an incredulous look. "Is it our mark?"
"The half-elf," Finn confirmed. "Multiple stab wounds. We conducted a brief search, but couldn't find sign of him in the area."
"I see..."
The captain must have noticed Connor's sudden discomfort and nodded at him. "This may be more complicated than we thought." She lifted up the tent flap and ushered Connor inside. "Come, let's talk in here."
The tent was dimly lit by a lantern hanging above a small fold-down table and two wooden stools in the middle of the room. The table was covered in papers, records and maps of the area marred with lines and arrows.
Bronwyn sat down at one of the stools, motioning for Connor to sit at the other. "I'm sure Finn has given you the rundown of why we've contacted you?"
"He says you need to find my brother?" he asked, sitting down. "Although I'm not sure how much I can help you."
"No, I assumed you didn't keep in contact."
It was a joke, Connor knew, but he felt angry at her for making light of the darkest time in his childhood. "My parents died," he said, glaring. "Good people were killed by that bastard."
"And many more will be if we don't find him," Bronwyn explained, "but I'm not asking you to help locate him."
"Wait, really?" the carpenter asked, cocking his head. "I thought that's why you needed to talk to me."
The captain shook her head and leafed through the pile of papers before finding the one she was looking for. "Do you recognize this?"
Connor narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better look at the drawing on the paper in the flickering light.
A dagger.
The carpenter grabbed the paper, holding it close to his eyes. "It looks kind of familiar..."
"It should. It went missing from your house the night your brother did."
"Wait," Connor said, pointing to the drawing in awe, "this was my grandfather's dagger?"
Bronwyn nodded. "Bowan Walsh, your grandfather, stole this dagger years ago from the royal vault."
Connor scoffed. "What? No, he was given it for his efforts in the war against Tzentuan."
The captain raised an eyebrow. "No, he and his family fled to the Tzentuan Territory, intending to sell the dagger. That's when your father met your mother."
The carpenter stood up, wringing his hands anxiously. "You're telling me my grandfather - who my dad told us all these great stories about, mind you - was actually a thief?"
Bronwyn just shrugged. "So you don't know about this dagger?"
"I remember my dad had it locked up somewhere," he shook his head, "and that Kieran kept sneaking in to play with it. That's it."
Bronwyn put her head in her hand and sighed. "Fine. Is there anything you remember about your brother you feel like we'd need to know?"
Connor started pacing, still fidgeting nervously. "No, he just... He's pure evil. I used to be so scared of him."
"Looks like you still are," Bronwyn noted bluntly, making Connor wheel around angrily.
"Of course I am! He was family, someone I was supposed to trust, and he murdered my parents! Our parents! How am I not supposed to be scared of someone like that?"
The shouting drew the attention of the bald guard outside, who peeled back the tent flap and looked at the captain questioningly. Bronwyn waved her hand dismissively with a slight nod and he disappeared back behind the curtain.
Connor pulled at his hair, trying to do anything he could to calm himself down. "I just... He was always horrible to me," he explained. "I don't remember much, but I remember hating him and fearing him. I thought... I thought I was supposed to die that night."
Bronwyn stood up, looking up at the carpenter with wide eyes. "Maybe you were..."
"Huh?"
Bronwyn turned away and put a hand to her chin, thinking. "That could explain why he's heading south..." She whipped back around to face the startled carpenter. "Why did you think he was going to kill you?"
"My mom cried out when he killed her," he recalled, "and I got scared and hid in our closet. I was sure he came into the room at some point, probably to find me."
"It's possible," she explained, "that he's going south to finish the job. This might have nothing to do with the dagger, after all. It might have to do with you."
Connor's stomach sank and his heart started racing. "Irene..." he breathed.
"What?"
"My wife, Irene," he rushed out of the tent, the captain following close behind. "She's at our house alone."
"Fuck," Bronwyn swore, moving into action. "Greer, get the horses ready! Evan, put out the fire and get packing! Let's get moving, people!"
Finn hurried over, seeing them exit. "Did we find him?"
The captain waved him away. "That was an order, Finn!" She turned back to Connor as the guard scampered away, putting a hand on his broad shoulder. "We don't know for certain he'll go there. And even if he does, there's no guarantee anything bad will happen, so just try to relax. We'll get there as fast as we can."280Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnRIVDQqUV6
She walked off to get ready, leaving the pale-faced carpenter shaking in the middle of the camp, unconvinced they would make it in time.280Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNN4ox1QZZi
