"I seem to recall you're also on the wanted list, aren't you? A fallen dark mage," Murphy shot back.
"So what? You wanna die together? Sure, I'm on the run every day anyway—getting turned in by you would just add to the trouble. But you? Even if you escape pursuit, you'll end up like me, saying goodbye to a comfy life and spending every day scared out of your mind. How nice, huh, heh…"
The middle‑aged man gave a dry, humorless chuckle.
After standing there a while, Murphy finally caved. She pulled a delicate little vial from who‑knows‑where and tossed it to him. "Here's what you wanted! Despicable human!"
The man caught the vial, opened it, examined the contents closely, gave it a sniff, and finally looked satisfied.
He took out a rolled piece of parchment, set it on the table, then stood and left the tavern without a word.
Murphy's chest rose and fell with anger, the fury lingering. With a flick of her finger, the parchment flew into her hand. She opened and skimmed it, then also exited the tavern.
Under the cover of night, Murphy transformed into a swarm of bats and took to the air.
From within the flock came her muttering, "Damn werewolf! Bloody mage! All picking on me—you all deserve to die! Die—!"
…
Bayek – Early Morning.
Glen had just finished breakfast when someone knocked. Opening the door, he was surprised to see the old man.
"I'd like you to come with me somewhere. I can pay," the old man said, expression unchanging.
Glen raised an eyebrow, thought for a moment.
Nothing much to do today except feed the pigs—might as well see what's up… Deciding to go, Glen nodded. "Alright, how much will you pay?"
"Three silver coins." Still no expression.
That's three hundred copper coins—old man's clearly well‑off… Glen agreed right away. "When do we leave?"
"Wait for me outside the town." The old man turned and went back into his house.
Glen shrugged, tidied up a bit, and headed outside.
Once beyond the town limits, he sat on a rock and whistled.
A moment later, the beast trotted out of the woods and skidded to a stop in front of him.
"I'm heading out for a bit. Remember to grab some pig fodder and feed the pigs. I'll be back soon." Glen patted the beast's chest.
"Whuff?" The beast's single eye widened slightly—You want me to fetch pig grass?
"Yeah, can't I?" Glen grinned wickedly.
The beast lowered its head in resignation—Fine.
"It's for your own good. You just sleep and eat all day, you're already pudgier. Time to get some exercise," Glen said, patting its head reassuringly.
Footsteps approached from afar—Glen knew the old man had arrived.
But when he saw the old man, he froze.
The old man carried two hunting rifles, had a leather pack of unknown hide on his back, and wore full hunter's gear. Coupled with his burly frame, he looked imposing.
Should I be carrying something too? Glen glanced at the old man, then at himself—just a simple set of clothes, nothing else.
As soon as the old man stepped out of town, his eyes lit up at the sight of the enormous beast. "Good dog!"
This old man… Glen was speechless.
The old man suddenly turned to Glen. "Is this your dog?"
Glen paused, then nodded.
A flicker of envy crossed the old man's face. "What's its name?"
"Uh… er… um…" Glen stalled, unable to produce a name. He'd never bothered naming the beast, just gave direct commands. Should he make one up on the spot?
Seeing Glen's reaction, the old man looked almost tragic. He clenched his fists and offered, "Maybe I'll name it for you."
"Sure," Glen agreed without thinking.
The old man circled the beast, studying it, while the beast stayed still without Glen's order.
"Maybe… 'Night Roar?' the old man said after two loops.
"Night Roar…" Glen repeated softly, then clapped. "Yeah, that works! Your name is Night Roar from now on."
He told the beast, "Remember, that's your name now, got it?"
Night Roar seemed pleased, excitement shining in its single eye, revealing crossed fangs as it gave a low whine.
After giving Night Roar some final instructions, Glen set off with the old man.
They walked in silence until they reached a dirt road, where a carriage waited.
A very basic one—a single horse pulling a wooden frame with two wheels.
The driver was a short, wiry man who'd been grooming the horse. Seeing Glen and the old man approach, he gave them a weird look. "You two together?"
One fully armed, the other dressed like he was going on a spring picnic—they didn't look like they belonged together.
"Don't ask questions, do your job," the old man said coldly, shutting the driver right up.
Glen boarded the carriage with the old man and finally asked, "Where are we going? What's the job?"
"To kill someone." The old man's reply was simple.
The driver flinched, sneaking a glance back.
"An enemy?" Glen asked.
"Yes."
Glen nodded and fell silent, the only sounds the rumble of wheels and the driver's calls.
…
On the road linking Bayek and Doud, at a concealed spot.
A group of knights in armor lay in ambush.
A figure slightly smaller than the other armored knights jogged toward Bayek from the distant road.
Barbul, crouched in the grass, narrowed his eyes and stood up.
The jogging figure spotted Barbul, hurried over, and whispered something. After hearing it, Barbul cursed, then ordered the rest of the ambush to rise.
"Head to Doud, rest there first, then come back tonight," Barbul commanded. His men answered in unison.
…
The carriage jolted along from morning till dusk.
Glen had assumed their destination was nearby, that they'd finish and return before dark—but it was clear now that wasn't happening.
"How much farther? This trip's shaping up to be a long one," Glen said, chin in hand, feeling like his rear end was about to break.
"No doubt about it—be prepared for an extended journey. Odds are our destination won't wait for us," the old man said, never looking up from a worn map.
"Then all expenses for food and lodging on the road are on you," Glen said, shifting into a more comfortable position.
He was starting to suspect this trip was worth more than three silver coins—he might have to ask for more later.
"Of course."
Just then, the carriage slowed to a stop. Glen figured the driver was feeding the horse again—that's what happened at the last two stops—but the driver said:
"We're here, gentlemen."