"Agghhh!"
A guttural cry tore through the silence of the woods as a sword bit deep into flesh. Steel slid free with a wet sound, blood spraying out in thick arcs before the man crumpled to the dirt, gasping his final breaths.
The killer barely spared the dying man a glance. Instead, his cold eyes swept across the wreckage around him.
The carriage lay overturned, one of its wheels snapped clean off. Arrows still jutted from the wooden frame. The driver slumped lifelessly in his seat, an arrow buried in his skull. Around the ruin, corpses sprawled across the ground: guards, mercenaries, hired blades. All dead.
His men had done their job.
"Casualties?" he barked, crouching beside the nobleman he had just slain. His hand moved with practiced ease, rifling through pockets and pouches.
The dead man wore fine clothes: tailored, clean, and expensive. Far better than the patched leathers of the man looting his corpse. Gold embroidery, a silver ring, and a fat coin pouch told the story clearly. A wealthy target.
"Three dead. Four injured," came a voice from behind. One of his men. "If we hadn't outnumbered them, we'd all be meat by now."
"Just as I thought." The leader nodded, pulling free the heavy pouch and weighing it in his hand. "These merchants don't hire amateurs. Their guards fought like wolves cornered."
He stood up slowly, wiping blood off his hands with a scrap of the noble's cloak. "Only numbers gave us the edge."
"At least the contractor didn't sell us out," the other man muttered, sheathing his blood-slick blade without bothering to clean it.
"That's rare enough in this line of work," the leader replied, glancing at him. "Trust is more dangerous than any sword. For all we knew, the one who hired us might have planned to kill us too. Tie up loose ends."
He kicked the corpse once, making sure there was no breath left.
Another figure approached from the edge of the carnage.
"Boss," the scout said, panting, "we've checked. Everyone's dead. Even the boy. No survivors."
The leader's expression didn't change. Just a flat nod.
"Good. Let's move."
With that, the group vanished into the tree line, leaving behind only blood, broken wood, and the dead.
Not long after, the quiet crunch of wheels on gravel broke the silence again. Another carriage rolled onto the scene. Sleek, reinforced, and clearly belonging to someone important. The guards surrounding it wore polished armor, all bearing the same crest engraved on both their chestplates and the side of the carriage: three stylized swords arranged in a symmetrical composition. The central sword stood upright, flanked by two diagonally crossed swords behind it, creating a dynamic X shape. Decorative elements, possibly flourishes or filigree, adorned the hilt and guard of the central sword, while ribbons or banners were intricately woven around the sword blades.
Inside the carriage, an irritated voice rang out.
"What's the delay now?"
"Princess Iris," the commander riding beside the vehicle called back, "a destroyed carriage ahead. Corpses too. Bandit attack, most likely. Fairly common in these parts. My men are clearing the way."
A sigh echoed from within.
"Fine. Just hurry it up."
As the soldiers moved through the area, checking bodies and gathering whatever useful intel they could, one of them jogged over to the commander.
"Captain. We found a survivor. A boy. He's alive, but barely."
The captain's brow furrowed. He glanced once toward the carriage, then at the wounded youth being carried out from behind the wreckage.
"We'll be passing near Baron Kagenou's territory soon. Tend to the boy's wounds. Once we reach the town, leave him there. If he wakes up, question him. I want to know exactly what happened here."
He thought, Whether this was just bad luck or something more deliberate. Someone may have known the princess would be using this road.
The soldier gave a quick nod and rushed off to carry out the orders.
Once the area was cleared, the procession set off again. Among the riders, one soldier sat atop his horse with the unconscious boy slumped in front of him, keeping a steady hand on the child to prevent him from slipping off.
By dusk, they arrived at the town on the edge of Baron Kagenou's territory. The main carriage headed straight for the Baron's estate, where the captain and Princess Iris were to meet with the local noble. Meanwhile, two guards broke away from the group, asking around for the town's cleric.
It didn't take long.
When they found the modest chapel tucked between two old stone houses, the cleric, a thin, balding man in his later years, opened the door, startled at first by the armored figures at his doorstep.
"We need you to treat a boy. He's injured," one of the soldiers said plainly.
The cleric's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't hesitate. Royal guards didn't make requests; they gave orders. And someone of his station didn't question them.
"Bring him in."
He cleared space on a wooden cot as the soldier carefully laid the boy down. When the cleric pulled back the bloodstained shirt, his expression darkened.
The wound across the boy's chest was deep and precise, a killing blow, not a warning. Whoever had struck it hadn't wanted the boy injured. They had meant to leave no survivors.
"It's a miracle he's still breathing…" the cleric muttered.
He wasted no time. Pulling out his healing salves, he began to clean and close the wound with careful hands.
Whatever the boy's story was, one thing was clear: someone had wanted him dead. And badly.
************
Crossover suggestions