The village returned to silence.

The shrine lay in ruins, smoke drifting from its rubble. The crops had sagged back into the soil, twisted but still. A few brave villagers crept closer to survey the wreckage, whispering their thanks from a safe distance.

The Black Banner lingered just long enough for Sana to collect her charms and shake the soot from her sleeves.

“Payment,” she said brightly, holding out her hand.

A farmer pressed a bundle of coins and bread into her palms as though bribing a spirit. Sana gave him a grin sharp enough to make him flinch. Creatures like her were not commonplace amongst folk like these. 

But then, neither were dragons.

“Always a pleasure.”

Grave rubbed at his ringing ears. “Pleasure? I’m going to have a headache for days.”

Sana tucked the bread into her satchel. “You’re still standing, aren’t you? Trust me, for your first mission, you couldn’t find something easier if you tried.”

He muttered something under his breath and kicked at a stone.

Ashen prowled in a slow circle, tail brushing the dirt. The dragon’s low growl thrummed like a warning bell. Rook rested a gauntleted hand on its flank. The beast stilled at once, but the rumble lingered.

In no time at all, they set off back down the road.

The last of the villagers waved after them, some in thanks, some in fear. Grave glanced back, brow furrowed.

“They didn’t even look relieved,” he said.

“They never do,” Sana answered. “The Banner shows up, it means something’s already broken. People don’t thank the broom for sweeping up dirt.”

Grave shot her a look. “That’s cheerful.”

She smirked, unfazed. “Plus, for some reason, they think we’re weird.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Rook said nothing. His cloak shifted as he walked, concealing the shard of metal he’d taken from the shrine. The crest etched into it pressed cold against his gloved palm. 

The sun dipped low, turning the fields gold. Ashen’s wings stirred faint dust devils as the dragon loped at their side. For a time, only the rhythm of their boots filled the silence.

Then the rumble of hooves broke it.

A rider galloped down the road, cloak snapping like a banner. His horse’s flanks were streaked with sweat, and his eyes were wide as he pulled hard on the reins.

He barely looked at Sana or Grave. His gaze locked on Rook.

“A message,” he panted. He thrust out a sealed envelope, wax glinting. “For the Black Banner.”

Rook took it without a word.

The rider wheeled his horse and fled the way he came, dust trailing behind him.

Sana whistled low. “Royal seal.”

Grave leaned closer, squinting at the wax. “That’s…from the palace, isn’t it?”

Rook slipped the letter into his cloak. “Yes.”

“And?” Grave pressed.

“And it isn’t your concern.”

Grave scowled. “I thought we were a unit. Don’t tell me the King’s sending secret love notes now.”

Sana’s grin widened. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

Rook didn’t rise to either bait. He only started walking again, armor clinking softly with each step.

They made camp by the road. Ashen curled in a wide ring, wings folding in like a fortress wall. The fire popped low between them, painting their faces in flickers of gold.

Sana chewed a piece of bread from the farmer’s payment, tail of charms glinting in the light. “So. What’s it say?”

Rook sat across from her, visor reflecting the fire. He hadn’t removed his helm. He hadn’t moved at all since sitting.

“It isn’t your concern,” he repeated.

Grave huffed. “You’re serious. You’re really going to keep it from us.”

Sana leaned back, balancing easily on one hand. “If it’s royal business, it concerns all of us. Unless you think the King’s paying you alone.”

Rook’s silence said enough.

Grave’s hand curled into a fist. “You really aren’t going to tell us?”

Rook finally looked at him. Even through the visor, the weight of his gaze was sharp. “You are here because you accepted the job offer. If you don’t like the way I run things, you can alert the king of your resignation when we reach the palace.”

The fire snapped between them.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then Sana sighed, flipping a charm between her fingers. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But if the crown’s dragging us into another mess, I’d like to know before my paper burns for nothing.”

Ashen snorted, sending sparks up from the fire.

Rook didn’t answer. His gauntlet closed tighter around the letter hidden in his cloak. The broken crest pressed against his ribs, heavier than steel.

The King was calling.

And whether he wanted it or not, the Black Banner would answer.