A sentry stood near a pile of crates, distracted, arguing with another troll. Rhys was on him before the words finished leaving its mouth. One clean strike. No sound. The body eased to the ground, unseen.
They slipped inside the periter.
Chaos hadn’t started yet—but order was already fraying. Dusk blurred distances. Firelight cast false shapes. Voices overlapped.
The leader stood near the raised stone, barking short commands.
Rhys t Caria’s eyes once.
Now.
Puddle surged forward, its body flashing with muted light that bent and fractured shadows. Trolls nearby turned, confused, shouting.
Caria released her spell—tight, focused. It slamd into the leader’s chest, staggering it back a step.
Rhys was already moving.
He crossed the distance in a breath, blade flashing once, twice—precise, relentless. The leader roared, swinging wildly, but its balance was gone. Control shattered.
Puddle wrapped around its legs, slowing, anchoring.
One final strike drove the leader down.
For a heartbeat, the camp went still.
Then the shouting erupted—angry, disorganized, uncertain.
Rhys didn’t stay to watch it spread. "Now," he said.
They withdrew the way they’d co, slipping back into rock and shadow as the trolls argued, clashed, and scrambled for direction without their anchor.
Behind them, the camp burned unevenly, discipline already unraveling.
The north road would not be safe yet.
But the balance had shifted.
They didn’t stop until the camp was well behind them, its firelight reduced to a broken glow between stones. Only when the sounds dulled—shouts turning into distant noise—did Rhys slow.
They took cover in a narrow cleft between boulders, high enough to watch but far enough to stay unseen.
Below, the camp unraveled exactly as expected.
Without the leader, argunts turned violent. Two trolls squared off near the fire, shoving and roaring over commands that no one obeyed. Others ran in conflicting directions, so grabbing weapons, so hauling loot as if preparing to flee. A barricade near the eastern edge collapsed when no one bothered to reinforce it.
Caria watched, expression steady. "They’re fracturing fast."
"Yes," Rhys said. "But they won’t scatter completely. Not tonight."
Puddle hovered between them, its surface pulsing faintly. Through it, Rhys sensed the camp’s agitation—confused movent, rising aggression, no clear center.
After a while, the shouting thinned. Smaller groups ford. A few trolls dragged bodies toward the fire. Others posted themselves awkwardly at the periter, unsure where to look.
Caria exhaled. "Patrols won’t move out like this."
"No," Rhys agreed. "And caravans won’t be marched straight into a trap anymore."
They stayed until full night settled. The moon rose, pale and distant, revealing the camp’s damage clearly enough to judge. Still dangerous—but no longer controlled ground.
Rhys turned away first. "We head back. Report what we found. Let the town decide whether to send soldiers or burn the place out."
Caria nodded. "And if they don’t?"
"Then we co back," he said simply. "Finish it properly."
They moved off the ridge and into the dark, their path chosen carefully, their presence swallowed by the hills. Behind them, the troll camp smoldered—leaderless, unstable, and exposed.
The north road wasn’t safe yet.
But for the first ti in days, it had a chance to be.
They traveled through the night without lighting a fire, keeping to broken ground and shallow valleys where sound carried poorly. The hills folded around them, guiding their steps as naturally as the road had earlier.
By dawn, the town’s outer watchtowers were visible again, pale against the morning sky.
They didn’t enter imdiately.
Rhys stopped on a rise overlooking the northern approach and watched the road below. A patrol moved cautiously outward—three guards instead of the usual two, spacing tighter, eyes sharp. They were already reacting.
"That was fast," Caria said.
"Fear moves quicker than orders," Rhys replied. "Good."
They entered after the patrol passed. At the gate, the guards were more alert than before. Questions were asked this ti—where they’d been, what they’d seen. Rhys answered plainly, without embellishnt.
"Troll camp. Organized. Leader eliminated last night. Camp destabilized but not destroyed."
That earned them looks—so doubtful, so alard. One guard left imdiately, heading toward the inner keep.
Inside, the town felt different.
Quiet, but tense. Shopkeepers spoke in low voices. A handful of ard n gathered near the square, waiting. Word was already spreading.
They went straight to the notice board area. This ti, officials were present—two n in town colors, one older, one sharp-eyed and restless.
Rhys repeated his report in full. Locations. Numbers. Patrol routes. The leader’s role.
Silence followed.
The older man finally nodded. "That explains the missing patrols."
"And the restraint," Caria added. "They were being herded."
The sharp-eyed official exhaled. "We’ll need soldiers. Fire. Maybe rcenaries."
"You have ti now," Rhys said. "Not much—but enough to choose how to end it."
They were paid again—more this ti. Not just coin, but acknowledgent. Their nas were taken. Their descriptions written down.
When they left the square, the town was already changing. ssengers moved fast. Armor was being pulled from storage. Orders were being argued, then agreed upon.
Caria glanced back once. "They’ll act."
"Yes," Rhys said. "And if they don’t do it cleanly..."
Puddle drifted between them, calm and certain.
"...we’ll be nearby," Rhys finished.
They didn’t stay long after that.
By midday, they were back on the road—this ti not north, but east again, letting distance settle behind them. The land opened. The tension eased, just slightly.
The threat wasn’t gone.
But it was contained.
And for now, that was enough.
The eastern road stretched ahead, wide and clear, rolling over gentle hills with scattered groves marking the landscape. The air carried the warmth of the midday sun, and birds moved in lazy arcs overhead. For the first ti in days, Rhys and Caria walked without imdiate danger pressing close.
Puddle drifted ahead, its surface smooth, reflecting the sunlight in shifting patterns. Its presence was calm, a quiet reassurance that nothing would catch them unaware.
Rhys glanced at Caria. "We need to keep moving. The next settlent could be bigger—traders, travelers, maybe even rcenaries on their way to the north."
Caria nodded. "And we should stay ahead of whatever notices our actions might have caused. Word travels fast."
They walked steadily, choosing the high ground when they could, keeping eyes on the horizon. Tracks from previous travelers crossed the road—footprints, wagon marks, hoof prints—but none were fresh enough to signal imdiate danger.
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