Roderick , along with the few remaining knights, left at first light, bowed down in mind and body. They didn't look back to the forest. Their silence said enough; fear now danced in the marrow of their bones.
After they left, Luenor turned back to Burizan, the chubby former vice-leader, groveling in the dirt with puppy dog eyes.
"Tell us…" Luenor said quietly, his voice calm but edged with steel, "who did you tell about the mine? About the elves?"
Burizan licked his lips nervously, sweat glistening across his forehead. "I... I didn't tell anyone!" he squeaked. "I only heard the knights were coming in a tavern. Some merchant boasting, saying Baron Ronney wanted to take the mine! I swear—"
Faren stepped forward, now close enough that Burizan was forced to stare into his cold, yellow eyes. Somehow, Faren was scarier than Hunter was in his rage. "If you are lying Burizan," he said softly, "I'll let Mira do whatever she wants to you."
Burizan whined pathetically, glancing at Mira, who was still tied up but her anger began to boil in her eyes. "No! I, I swear! I didn't tell anyone about the elves or the Surevas! Please... believe me!"
Thalanar sighed and glanced at Faren. "Bring Mira," he said softly. "Let her be the judge of the truth of his words."
Faren cut the bindings on Mira, and she lunged for Burizan, unhesitatingly. Her fists hit him right in the face, her voice a low, furious growl. "You low life! You filthy low life! You wrecked everything."
Burizan screamed and scrambled backward, to no avail, as she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back to her. She continued to rain blows to his back and head, while Burizan squealed and cried, "Please, please! I swear! I'm telling the truth!"
Thalanar raised his hand. His voice was calm, but firm. "Mira, stop."
She hesitated, breathing heavily, then pushed Burizan to the ground and stepped away. She was still shaking with rage, her shoulders trembling.
Thalanar was looking down at Burizan now. His face was inscrutable. "He's telling the truth," he said finally. "I believe him."
Faren frowned. "If so, then how did the Baron find out?"
Luenor's eyes sharpened. "Not the villagers." He said quietly. "They would not risk everything by talking out of turn."
He focused on Mira, who defiantly glared back at him, then the focus went vague. "The buyers," he said. "The buyers of the mana stones. They knew about the mines… about Mira being captured. And they work for the Baron; maybe even directly for the Baron."
___
A week later, the next delivery date was here. Luenor, still draped in the clothing of Alfrenzo, stood in the dark warehouse with Hunter and Arwin beside him. The anticipation was palpable—and the not-so-silent promise for revenge.
The buyers showed up much later than the last time, moving nervously, eyes shifting as the light was dim. The wind mage in the group fidgeted, the crates of gold fifteen feet behind him.
Arwin casually smiled with his arms crossed. "You have the delivery?" he lightly asked, as if nothing had changed.
The head buyer, a thin man with sharp eyes and a voice that was even smoother than his appearance, hesitantly nodded. "As long as it is the same level of quality... yes."
Arwin's gaze did not flinch as he offered, "You know Baron Ronney, right?" - a casual tone. "I understand that he has great interest in these mines."
The buyers exchanged glances. "We...do not," the head buyer said cautiously. "Our business is...private."
Arwin tilted his head. "Interesting," he said, his tone still light. "And what do you do with these stones, anyway? How do you have so much gold, hmm?"
The buyer's eyes grew cold. "That is none of your concern," he said flatly. "Our gold is our own business."
Arwin's smile grew sharper. "Ah, just like telling the Baron about Mira was none of your business?"
The words landed with the enormity of a stone cast into a still pond. The wind mage's eyes went wide--and then went catty, snarling and raising a hand. A blast of wind ripped through the warehouse, crates shuddering on their floating platforms.
But before it could reach them, Hunter stepped forward. His aura uncoiled, quiet and cold as death. The very air seemed to freeze while the wind mage's breath caught in his throat as he went pale and fell to his knees.
One by one, the buyers just dropped, fainting under the weight of Hunter's power, one by one, except for the head buyer, who was left pale and trembling.
He stared up at the cloaked figure of Alfrenzo—at the man he thought was just a shadow in the dark—and croaked, "Who… who are you people? If you're so strong, why hide in this forest? Why stay in this barony at all?"
Luenor said nothing, his silence as heavy as the air. He only looked at the man—calm, unyielding, and filled with a quiet promise.
And in that silence, the buyer realized that the forest itself stood with this cloaked figure—and that nothing would be the same again.
___
Arwin was very patient and deliberate, tying up the hooded buyers with slightly shaking hands, ignoring their muffled cries and the look of panic on their faces. He loaded them into the creaking wooden carriage one by one, cloaks bundled around them like shrouds.
Luenor said nothing and simply watched Arwin, while his mind churned far beyond. He turned to Hunter, his young face calm in the night. "I can't hide behind Faren's shoulders any longer. I can't hide behind a cloak," he said quietly. "We will have to change that."
Hunter cocked his head and listened.
"I want you to scour the markets," Luenor continued. "And the black market too. Find me a voice modulation device- whatever that can change my voice. And… a mask. The face of old man- that of the old man from those old stories… creases, heavy lids, that same quiet strength."
Hunter nodded, an uncharacteristically glimmer of recklessness dancing in his eye. "The face of an old man," he muttered. "I'll find it."
Without another word, Hunter poured himself back along the shadows of the town and was swallowed up by the night.