The night in the Grassland border camp was gentle, brightened by the glow of torches and the scent of cooked grain and roasted meat. Wind brushed through the tents, carrying the aroma of herbs and faint smoke from the campfire. It was the kind of night that made even the weary forget how far they had come.
Sheriff Staley's voice echoed across the open clearing, steady and warm. "Kiaria, Diala, I've arranged a tent for you both–just near mine. It isn't large, but it should be comfortable. You've earned some rest."
Diala bowed slightly. "Thank you, Sheriff."
Kiaria nodded. "We appreciate your hospitality."
Staley smiled, resting a hand on his sword's hilt. "You're our guests, not strangers. Make yourselves at home here. Later, join us for the feast. My brothers would like to welcome you properly."
Kiaria and Diala sat quietly outside their tent when two figures approached, hands waving nervously.
"Hey, kids…" Ellein's voice came sheepishly. "How's your tent? About earlier… don't take what we said to heart. We were just teasing. That's how we greet everyone."
Ferlin nodded. "Aye, we meant no harm. If you need anything, call us brothers. No matter how far or how tough, we'll come running."
Kiaria looked at them, calm and unbothered. "What matter?" He tilted his head slightly, pretending confusion. "Oh… you mean the little greeting earlier? I'd already forgotten."
Both men stared at him, then laughed with relief.
"See, Ferlin? The kid's got a better heart than you," Ellein said.
"Maybe," Ferlin replied. "But I've got better aim."
He double-tapped his chest with a fist and stretched out his arm. Kiaria met the gesture without hesitation, gripping his hand firmly. "Then from today," Kiaria said with a faint smile, "we're brothers."
Ellein laughed heartily and joined in. "Count me too!" He reached forward and clasped both their hands together. "From this moment, we're sworn brothers!"
Before they could step back, another voice cut in. "And what about us? Won't we also be your sworn brothers?"
Sheriff Staley approached, a mischievous smirk tugging his lips.
Kiaria raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Ah, who are you again?"
Ferlin grinned. "No idea. Maybe a traveler who lost his horse."
"You…" Staley growled, pretending to be furious. "You two ungrateful fools! I'm your reaper come to collect souls!"
"Run, fatty!" someone shouted from behind the campfire.
The camp burst into laughter. Ellein tried to flee, tripping over a log as he darted away.
"Little brothers," he cried dramatically, "if I don't make it back alive, tell my story to the next generation!"
Staley sighed, but even he couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Idiots. All of you."
Ferlin leaned closer to Kiaria and whispered, "Even though he acts like a fool, no one can catch him. He's the fastest among us and the strongest with the spear. The Sheriff raised him since he was a child. We all owe our lives to both of them."
Kiaria nodded slightly, his eyes thoughtful. "Then this isn't just a mercenary band… it's a family."
Ferlin smiled proudly. "Exactly. The East Valley Wing Mercenaries–our little family of seventeen members and core members as Ellein and me… Ferlin, then our Sheriff. We wander from province to province, taking jobs to survive, and helping those who can't defend themselves."
Minutes later, Ellein returned, panting dramatically. "Phew! I'm back alive."
Ferlin crossed his arms. "And the Sheriff?"
Ellein scratched his chin. "Probably sulking near the fire. Getting old, I suppose. But don't tell him I said that."
The others laughed again, and even Diala, who rarely joined in, couldn't hide her smile.
Shortly after, Staley's deep voice carried across the camp. "Everyone, gather up! It's time to eat!"
The campfire was already ablaze–five logs arranged around the central flame, each carved into clean seats about six feet long. Three others, cut from rooted tree trunks, had been shaped into smooth, curved chairs with faint carvings. They weren't ornate, but carried the air of command.
Staley gestured toward them. "Those three are the seats of the East Valley Wing leaders. But tonight, you'll take two of them."
Diala shook her head slightly. "We couldn't–"
"Nonsense," Staley said with a grin. "Guests first. Leadership can wait one night."
Before either could reply, Ellein, one of the mercenaries from earlier, jumped ahead and dropped himself dramatically into the third carved seat. "Then I'll take the last one! I declare myself leader for the night!"
The camp burst into laughter.
The silence broke when Staley threw a small bone at him. "Out."
Ellein leapt up instantly. "I was just warming it for you!"
Laughter erupted around the campfire again. Even the stiffest soldiers couldn't hold back their smiles.
The meal began. Roasted meat, bread, and roots cooked in spiced broth were passed around. Diala sat quietly, observing the group. Despite their ragged armor and crude jokes, they carried themselves with respect and discipline.
"East Valley Wing Brothers!" Staley raised his mug high. "Tonight we welcome new family–Kiaria and Diala! From this day forth, they walk among us as equals!"
The group cheered, raising their mugs in unison.
Kiaria bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Sheriff. And thank you, brothers."
Diala mirrored his gesture. "We'll remember this kindness."
The feast continued, filled with laughter and conversation. They spoke of old hunts, battles against raiders, lost comrades, and future hopes. Diala listened carefully–she could sense that despite their rough exterior, these men and women had all seen enough loss to understand the value of life.
After a while, Kiaria turned to Staley. "Sheriff, this grassland… is it part of the Eastern Province?"
Staley nodded. "Yes. But we're on the far edge of it–three days' journey from the provincial city. Why do you ask? Do you know someone there?"
"Not exactly," Kiaria replied. "I heard rumors of riots in the province. Thought I'd ask."
Staley leaned back, poking the fire with a stick. "Ah, that one. You are half right about it.A few days ago, scholars, experts and even the Six Kings and the Princess were sent to stabilize the province and bring peace. Seems they succeeded."
"Then the Eastern Province will recover," Diala murmured. "Maybe the Grasslands won't stay barren for long."
"Not only that Dia, maybe I will get chance to introduce you to my Elder Brothers and Sister."
Diala's face darkened, "Ha, you mean Kings and Princess! They won't appreciate that, I'm sure about that."
Kiaria giggled. "No, they won't be that bad. So, no worries."
Staley noticed the faint nostalgia in his tone but didn't pry. Instead, he raised his mug again. "Well then, to peace–however long it lasts."
The night grew quieter after that. Some of the mercenaries began singing–a slow, almost mournful tune that carried through the grassland. Their voices mingled with the crackling of the fire and the sigh of the wind.
Two hours later, the camp began to settle. One by one, soldiers returned to their tents.
"Sleep well, little brother," Ferlin said as he stood. "Tomorrow, we ride early."
Kiaria nodded. "Goodnight, Brother Ferlin."
When the camp grew silent, only the rustle of the grass remained. Inside their tent, Diala and Kiaria sat across from each other, the small incense burner between them filling the air with gentle fragrance.
"These people…" Diala said softly. "They're rough but kind. Their hearts are pure."
Kiaria nodded, staring at the flickering flame. "The world calls them mercenaries, but they live with more honor than nobles I've met."
Diala smiled faintly. "You like them."
He chuckled. "Enough to trust them for now. That's rare for me."
She leaned back slightly. "Kiaria… when you smile like that, you almost seem normal."
He raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"
She laughed quietly. "You know what I mean."
He smirked. "Then I'll take that as a compliment."
The night passed softly. The scent of incense lulled them into rest.
When dawn broke, the camp awoke with motion and noise. Ellein ran between tents shouting, "Wake up, brothers! The Grasslands won't wait for us!"
Staley emerged soon after, already armored. "Pack everything. We move within the hour."
The group moved efficiently, rolling tents, loading supplies, and fastening weapons.
As Kiaria and Diala stepped out, Staley waved them over. "Come, I've got something to show you."
They followed him to the far side of the camp where a polished wooden cart gleamed in the early light. It was larger than any merchant's wagon–its sides reinforced with steel, and its wheels etched with faint runic patterns.
"Whoa…" Diala's eyes widened. "Did you make this cart?"
Staley grinned. "Not me–Ferlin and Ellein built it last week. We call it The Winged Chariot. It's yours while you travel with us."
Diala's eyes sparkled like a child's. She circled it, touching the carved handles and smooth sides. "It's beautiful! Thank you!"
Kiaria smiled quietly. "You've made her day, Sheriff."
Ellein appeared behind them, wiping his hands. "Don't call it a cart! This is a chariot! There's a big difference!"
Ferlin crossed his arms proudly. "Built strong enough to carry six, light enough for two horses. Try not to break it, alright?"
Kiaria bowed his head slightly. "I'll treasure this gift."
Staley placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You're one of us now, Kiaria. And one day, when you're stronger than me, remember this kindness and pay it forward."
Kiaria looked at him with calm eyes. "I will."
As the morning sun rose over the horizon, the East Valley Wing Mercenaries set forth, their banners fluttering against the wind.
Kiaria and Diala rode in the chariot, the campfires now just smoldering dots behind them. Ahead lay the vast Grasslands–green waves that stretched beyond sight.
For the first time in a long while, Kiaria felt something unfamiliar but welcome–a quiet warmth of belonging.