The third morning on the road started quiet. Too quiet.
Mist clung low over the grass, a thick white blanket that swallowed the distance and muffled the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves against the dirt path, turning the world into a hazy dreamscape where sounds died before they could travel far. The carriage rocked gently, the wooden frame creaking with each rut, but the usual chorus of birdsong was absent, replaced by an eerie stillness that set my nerves on edge. The merchants dozed fitfully across from me, their heads lolling with the motion, faces slack in uneasy sleep. The scholar scribbled absently in his book, quill scratching faintly against parchment, lost in whatever arcane notes consumed him.
Aria sat in her corner, head tilted slightly to one side, listening intently, her storm-gray eyes narrowed as she stared out the small window. Her hand rested casually on her sword hilt, fingers loose but ready, the leather grip worn smooth from years of use.
I leaned forward slightly, keeping my voice low. "You hear it too," I murmured, the words just for her.
She didn't look at me, her gaze fixed on the swirling mist outside. "The woods are too still. No birds. No rustle in the underbrush."
The driver called back over his shoulder, his voice rough from the cold air. "Hold on — might get bumpy ahead. Road's narrow through the trees."
The carriage curved between two clusters of trees, the canopy closing in overhead like a green tunnel, branches arching low and casting dappled shadows on the path. The mist thickened here, coiling around the trunks like smoke, visibility dropping to a few yards. That's when the first arrow thunked into the side of the carriage, embedding in the wood with a sharp crack that splintered the panel near the scholar's head.
The horses screamed and reared, their hooves pawing the air in panic, the carriage jerking violently as the driver yanked on the reins, cursing loudly. "Bandits! Hold steady!"
Three men stepped out from the treeline ahead — rough leathers patched with mismatched armor, faces scarred and dirt-streaked, blades drawn and glinting in the filtered light. Two more emerged behind us, cutting off retreat, one leveling a crossbow with a mechanical click, the bolt aimed at the driver's back.
Bandits. The word hung in the air like the mist, cold and inevitable. The merchants froze, their faces paling, one clutching his coin purse instinctively, the other whispering a prayer under his breath. The scholar clutched his satchel like it was a shield, eyes wide with terror, his book tumbling to the floor.
Aria was already moving, her sword flashing into her hand with a metallic ring as she kicked the door open, the wood banging against the carriage side. She was off in two strides, landing lightly on the dirt, her braid swinging as she advanced on the front three, blade held low and ready.
The system chimed in my head, clear and urgent amid the chaos.
[Opportunity detected: Engage in combat for +10 Desire Points. Performance in high-risk situations increases influence gain with observing targets.]
I vaulted out after her, the carriage rocking with my exit, landing in a crouch as the bandits turned their attention. The first one rushed me, a burly man with a rusted axe raised high, thinking I was an easy mark—a traveler without visible weapons. He learned differently when I sidestepped his swing, the axe whistling past my ear, and drove my fist into his jaw with Enhanced Body strength, the crack of bone echoing as he sprawled face-first into the mud, groaning.
I grabbed his dropped axe—heavy but balanced—and spun toward the next man, a wiry bandit with a short sword who lunged low. I parried the blade with the axe haft, the impact jarring up my arms, then kicked his knee out, sending him crumpling with a yelp. He slashed wildly as he fell, but I dodged, bringing the axe down on his sword arm—not to kill, but to disarm, the blade biting into flesh enough to make him drop his weapon and clutch the wound.
Aria was a whirlwind ahead, her sword moving in sharp, efficient arcs that wasted no motion. She dispatched one of the front attackers with a precise thrust to the thigh, dropping him to his knees, then parried the second's club, countering with a slash across his chest that sent him staggering back, blood blooming on his tunic. The third hesitated, seeing his companions fall, but she didn't give him time—advancing with a feint that drew his guard high, then sweeping low to hamstring him, leaving him howling on the ground.
The crossbowman behind us raised his weapon, the string twanging as he aimed at Aria's back. I hurled the axe before he could fire—it spun end over end, catching him in the shoulder with a meaty thud, the bolt flying wild into the trees as he dropped the crossbow with a curse, staggering back.
The last bandit, seeing the tide turn, bolted into the woods, crashing through underbrush like a panicked deer. His fallen comrades groaned on the road, clutching wounds, the fight over in less than a minute, the mist now tainted with the coppery scent of blood and the sharp tang of fear-sweat.
Aria wiped her blade clean on a dead man's tunic, the cloth coming away red, then glanced at me, her breathing steady despite the exertion, a faint sheen of sweat on her brow.
"You fight better than you look," she said, sheathing her sword with a click, her eyes appraising me anew—taking in my stance, the way I held myself post-fight.
"Is that a compliment?" I asked, retrieving the axe from the crossbowman's shoulder, the man whimpering as I yanked it free.
"It's an observation," she replied, but there was something in her tone — the first thread of respect, her gaze lingering on the bandits I'd downed, calculating the efficiency.
The merchants poked their heads out of the carriage, faces pale but relieved, stammering thanks as they climbed down on shaky legs. "You saved us... gods, we thought it was over!" one said, clapping me on the shoulder. The scholar just stared at me like I'd grown horns, his book forgotten on the floor, pages fluttering in the breeze.
The driver swore under his breath as he checked the horses for injury, running hands over their flanks, calming them with soft words. "Bloody thieves... we'll report this at the next post."
We were back on the road soon after, the bandits tied and left for the authorities, the carriage rolling forward with a sense of fragile normalcy. The air inside was thick with the metallic scent of blood from minor cuts and the lingering adrenaline, conversations hushed as the merchants recounted the attack in whispers, embellishing details already.
Aria didn't speak for the rest of the day, her gaze distant out the window, but when we stopped for the night at a fortified waystation—stone walls enclosing a cluster of buildings, lanterns burning bright against the encroaching dark—she sat one bench closer to me at the inn's common room table, the fire crackling in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
No words — just proximity, her shoulder almost brushing mine as she ate her stew, the warmth of the room contrasting the chill outside. And that was enough to tell me the game was shifting, her walls thinning after seeing me in action.
[Desire Points earned: +10. Cumulative total: 88.]
[Target influence: 14%. Moderate opening created.]
The waystation bustled with other travelers—guards swapping stories by the fire, a bard strumming a lute in the corner, the scent of mulled wine mixing with roasted meat. The merchants celebrated their survival with extra rounds, toasts raised to "our saviors," their voices loud and grateful. The scholar buried himself in his book, but even he glanced at me with newfound respect.
Aria finished her meal in silence, but as she stood to retire, she paused, her hand on the table near mine. "You didn't hesitate," she said quietly, eyes meeting mine. "That's rare."
"Neither did you," I replied, the words carrying a subtle layer of Desire Tongue II, planting the seed of shared strength.
She nodded once, a brief acknowledgment, before heading upstairs, her steps steady on the creaking stairs. The common room's noise faded as she disappeared, but the proximity lingered in my mind—a step closer, the ambush turning threat into opportunity.
The night deepened, the waystation's walls echoing with snores and distant owl calls, the fire dying to embers. I lay in my bunk, the events replaying: the arrow's thunk, the clash of steel, Aria's fluid strikes. The system hummed faintly, forecasting the road ahead—more days, more chances to build on this foundation. The capital loomed, but this carriage held its own rewards, Aria's influence creeping up like the mist we'd left behind.
The ambush had broken the ice; now it was time to melt it completely.