It happened on a rainy afternoon along the southern road.
I was heading back toward Sentinel Hill after another pointless patrol when I spotted him: a lone rider moving fast, trying to stay off the main path. Defias, no doubt. The kind that carries orders rather than gold. I followed at a distance for a while, then created a small distraction with a loose rock and a startled horse further up the road.
When he stopped to check what was wrong, I moved in.
He never saw me. One quick lift and I had a sealed letter from his saddlebag. Clean work.
I took the letter straight to Gryan.
He read it in silence, then folded it and tucked it away.
“Defias movements,” he muttered. “Could be useful. I’ll send it up the chain.”
He tossed me a couple of silver coins without looking at me.
“Keep doing what you’re doing. We need eyes out there.”
That was it. No real thanks. No real coin. Just another order.
I stood there for a moment after he walked away, turning the silver in my hand. It wasn’t even enough to buy a decent meal and a bed for a few nights.
I’ve been playing Gryan’s game for months now. Running his errands, cleaning up his messes, and getting paid like a common mercenary. And for what? A few silver and the privilege of watching him pretend he’s winning a war he doesn’t understand.
Maybe it’s time I stopped waiting for someone else to decide my next move.
Maybe it’s time I went after something that actually matters.