The merchant caravan rolled steadily along the dusty road, its precious cargo of spices and fabrics secured once more after the unexpected detour. After questioning the lone conscious bandit—who claimed they'd been hired anonymously through an intermediary at the Brackenholt tavern—Heeka and Nora had rejoined their employer, a stern Night Lotus representative who seemed suspiciously unsurprised by their tale of ambush.

The remainder of their journey proved mercifully uneventful. As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the endless sea of golden wheat, Heeka found himself walking alongside Nora at the rear of the caravan. Lukas had abandoned any pretense of guard duty and was bounding through the field, occasionally visible as a white blur against the amber grain, chasing field mice with more enthusiasm than success.

"Not a bad life, is it?" Nora mused, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of crimson and gold. "When we're not getting blown up, I mean."

Heeka smiled, his hand unconsciously touching the pouch where he kept his remaining mana ore. "Better than some alternatives."

"I know what would make it even better," Nora said, her voice dropping to what she clearly believed was a seductive tone. She leaned closer, bumping her shoulder against his. "You and me could... you know... polish the sword tonight. I've been practicing my... um... sheathing techniques." She stuck her tongue into her cheek, creating a bulge that she moved in and out in what she apparently thought was a suggestive manner.

Heeka nearly tripped over his own feet. "By O Mother's heart, Nora! That's not—you don't—" He shook his head, fighting both embarrassment and amusement. "Your father would skin me alive."

"Only if he found out," she replied with exaggerated innocence, completely unaware of how her attempt at innuendo had missed its mark. "I could be very... quiet." She lowered her voice to a whisper that was, paradoxically, louder than her normal speaking voice. "Like a cat stalking its prey before the... you know... sword goes into the... target practice."

Heeka's face burned hot enough to forge magitek. "Nora, please—"

"Or," she continued, warming to her theme, "we could try what the fancy lords call 'inspecting the royal jewels.' I've never seen royal jewels before." She paused, looking genuinely thoughtful. "Do they sparkle when you touch them? Because I've got very gentle hands for valuable equipment."

"That's not—jewels don't—" Heeka spluttered, looking desperately for any excuse to change the subject. "We should focus on completing the job."

"Oh, I'd like to complete your job," Nora replied with what she clearly thought was heavy meaning, nudging him with her elbow. "I could polish your hilt until it shines brighter than mana ore. Would you like that? A thorough... polishing?" She made an obscure gesture with her hands that bore no resemblance to any actual intimate activity.

Heeka was saved from responding when a commotion erupted from the wheat field. Lukas had emerged covered not just in grain, but in what appeared to be green slime. The wolf bounded toward them with delighted enthusiasm, clearly proud of whatever disgusting substance he had found to roll in.

"No—Lukas, stay back!" Heeka shouted, but it was too late.

The massive wolf shook himself vigorously, sending foul-smelling droplets in all directions. Nora shrieked as the slime spattered across her leather bodice, all thoughts of "sword polishing" forgotten as she leapt away from the contaminated canine.

"Djit'ma! What IS that?" she cried, frantically wiping at the green stains. "It smells like... like..."

"Like we won't be doing any 'sheathing' tonight," Heeka muttered under his breath, simultaneously mortified and relieved. Louder, he called, "Lukas! Bad wolf! Very bad wolf!"

The wolf simply panted happily, clearly pleased with himself for sharing his aromatic discovery.

The wolf simply panted happily, clearly pleased with himself for sharing his aromatic discovery.

"At least we know what he was chasing in the field," Heeka said, trying not to gag at the smell. "And it wasn't mice."

Nora, still frantically wiping at her clothing, glared at the wolf. "Your timing is terrible," she informed Lukas, who responded by attempting to lick her hand affectionately. She jerked back with a yelp of disgust.

In the distance, Lukas had finally caught something—not a mouse, but apparently his own tail. The massive wolf spun in frantic circles, seeming both triumphant and confused by his achievement.

"Your wolf," Nora said flatly, her previous amorous intentions forgotten, "is the least dignified creature I've ever seen."

"He has his moments," Heeka replied, watching as Lukas, dizzy from his spinning, flopped onto his side in the wheat. "Very rare moments."

Ahead of them, the silhouette of Greenfield was emerging against the darkening sky, the dome of the local Church of Embrace catching the last rays of sunlight like a beacon guiding them home.