Content warning: this chapter contains graphic depictions of violence that some readers might find disturbing. 

Time passed quickly as they travelled across the barren terrain of Ironhold. It felt strangely freeing to ride, Neve’s thoughts lingering on nothing except the path in front of her. Even Oliver wise quiet, seeming to respect Neve’s need to ride in silence.

Certainly, Hell’s Gate would be difficult for both of them to survive. Even though he was a knight, Oliver had to be aware that his life was at risk, too.

By now, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow on the earth beneath it. The clouds had parted enough to reveal a vivid sunset, painted in bright orange in pink hues.

“We should set up camp soon,” Oliver said, speaking for the first time in hours. “We’ve travelled over ten leagues. There’s a small river just off the road ahead.”

“Alright,” Neve replied. She gently pulled on Yule’s reins, allowing Oliver to pass her. “Lead the way.”

Oliver led Neve and his squire, Ludger, off the road into a sparsely wooded area. If they had been travelling in a more populous region, they would’ve been able to stop at an inn, or even another noble’s property. But Ironhold was remote, as was Hell’s Gate, so their only option was to camp in the wilderness.

Needless to say, this was an entirely new experience for Neve. Her rigid upbringing as a noble would never entail something so, well, improper.

They rode until they found level ground, which was optimal for pitching their tents. Oliver was the first to dismount, making it seem as easy as getting down from a chair. Neve followed suit, for once feeling grateful for her height. Being the shortest, Ludger had the most difficulty dismounting. Oliver had to lend the boy a hand. Neve averted her gaze, as not to embarrass the squire.

“If you two refill our waterskins at the river, I’ll pitch the tents,” Oliver offered. “Just be mindful of the sun. Once it grows dark, it’s best we stay together.”

“Yes, sir!” Ludger responded eagerly.

Neve bit back a smile. He was around Wren’s age, if not a bit younger. He was at a point in puberty where his voice was breaking, resulting in pitchy vocalizations. 

They fetched the waterskins from the packhorses, which were mostly empty from the day’s journey. Meanwhile, Oliver secured the horses by tying their reins around a nearby tree.

“Follow me, Lady Neve,” Ludger called as he hurried toward the river, disappearing behind a few trees.

Neve followed the boy quickly, watching her step on the descent to the river. The ground was rocky, so she was able to find purchase with relative ease. However, the moisture from the river made the surface of some of the rocks slippery.

She minded Oliver’s warning about the setting sun and made haste. Ludger’s blond hair was easy to spot as he bobbed in and out of vision. 

Eventually, they arrived at the riverside, stooping low to refill the waterskins. The river was absolutely frigid, numbing Neve’s fingers where they met the water’s surface.

“How are you holding up, My Lady?” Ludger asked conversationally.

He’s friendly, Neve thought bemusedly. Just like his master. 

“My legs are quite sore,” Neve responded honestly. “I’ve never been on such a long journey before.”

Ludger nodded sagely. “After my first overnight journey, I couldn’t walk properly for a few days. I think you’re doing well!”

“Thanks, Ludger,” Neve replied, smiling inwardly.

But just as she was beginning to relax, a cold shiver ran through her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She whipped her head around, peering into their wooded surroundings.

“Lady Neve?” Ludger asked, confused at the sudden change in her mood.

She brought her finger to her lips, motioning for Ludger to stay quiet. They listened to the quiet sounds of the woodland. Nothing was amiss, but Neve couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

“Let’s head back,” Neve said under her breath. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Ludger nodded, worry etched across his youthful features.

Suddenly, a loud cry pierced through the silence. Oliver!

They shot to their feet, hands on their weapons. Ludger headed off first, but Neve grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“No, you stay hidden,” Neve whispered firmly.

“I can’t let you go alone!” Ludger protested, keeping his voice hushed. “It’s too dangerous, My Lady.”

“If something goes wrong, you need to go back to the duchy,” Neve continued. “I can’t ride in darkness. So stay hidden until I call for you.”

Ludger nodded, albeit reluctantly, and hung back. He obscured himself in the shadows of the trees.

Neve tightened her grip on her sword as she hurried back to their campsite, keeping her footsteps light as she scurried up the rocky terrain.

She could hear the clanging of swords and numerous indistinguishable voices. Their adversaries were human, and it sounded like they were outnumbered. Neve gulped, feeling beads of sweat form on her forehead.

Finally, the campsite fell into view.

They had been ambushed by a handful of men, dressed in dark, ragged clothing. Their faces were obscured by cloth, and they wielded unrefined but dangerous looking weapons. The men must have been bandits. And they had Oliver surrounded.

The knight was engaged with two bandits, one wielding a falchion and the other a flail. 

Neve noticed a dark red patch on Oliver’s clothes, which seemed to grow every time he moved. He’s been injured, Neve realized, panicked. I must intervene. 

She watched the bandits intently, looking for an opening to jump in, and carefully unsheathed her sword. But she couldn’t find an opportunity. There were too many men, and they were closing in on Oliver.

Suddenly, a bandit swung his flail parallel to the ground, catching Oliver’s ankle. A sickening crack echoed through the clearing, and Oliver fell to the ground.

The bandit wielding the falchion raised his blade, poised to deliver a killing blow. Without thinking, Neve rushed forward. She raised her sword powerfully above her shoulder in the Lady’s Guard position. Then, in the blink of an eye, she swung.

She brought her sword down with the most force she had ever mustered, fueled by utter desperation and fear. Her blade cut through the bandit’s neck cleanly, sending a spray of blood into the air. It was not a deep enough blow to decapitate him, but it was enough to sever his spinal cord. 

The man dropped to the ground, dead. Crimson blood pooled around the man’s head, staining the ground. Neve had just taken someone’s life.

But she did not have time to lament. 

Neve quickly raised her sword into the Seventh Guard–the Short Guard–as she faced the other bandits. She stood in front of Oliver’s prone body defensively, waiting.

“Bitch!” one of the bandits spat. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ya!”

“Wait, wait. Let’s not be hasty,” another drawled. He was the largest of the bandits, carrying a large club. “She’s quite pretty. Probably’ll fetch a good price.”

“Let us have our way with her first,” the bandit with the flail sneered. He pulled his face covering down, licking his lips obscenely. Neve kept the tip of her sword pointed at him, keeping him more than an arms-length away. 

“Just don’t kill her,” the bandit with the club replied, smirking cruelly.

“Neve, you need to get out of here,” Oliver mumbled weakly. She didn’t even have to look back to realize he was barely conscious. 

“No, I will not leave you here to die,” Neve responded through gritted teeth. Terror coursed through her body, but her legs remained firmly planted against the ground. She glared at the bandit standing before her. “Do your worst.”