A Dream of Honor

IV.

Beyond the gates of Termhes, through the Mandes Mountains, across the Lover's River, underneath the skies above Ranem, Aewor, and Lauti - then and only then would she reach her destination, that being the palace Earl Hawkin Evenon nested in. Arvendon Palace was the jewel of its city. Odde could remember marveling at it when she was a girl, with missing teeth and scabbed knees. Her bad habits of thievery had started young, but even then she knew her limits, so she had never stepped foot inside the palace.

A disguise would do her well, she guessed. It wasn't customary for random travelers to venture uninvited into the palaces of Earls. Lucky for her, she had an entire wardrobe filled with mummer's gear back at the guild's headquarters in Herebor. Making a pit stop would only delay her travels by a couple days, if that; Herebor was just south of Weskund.

Odde was on her merry way before the day was over. She didn't run into Uwen on her way out, nor did she suspect she ever would again. She had experienced many lovers in her life, though only one had ever made her feel anything other than lust. Before and after Stefan, her relationships lasted a night at most, which was precisely how she preferred it.

The weather fared poorly, that first day. The steady onslaught of rain made the ground slick and muddy and the vault of grey clouds looming above put Odde in a grouchy mood. She ran into a merchant family lugging a caravan filled with their goods, but Odde had no coin to spare them nor time to steal from them. Her legs were aching and her feet were blistered by the time she finally set up camp to rest for the night. She was beginning to suspect a horse would have been a more preferable gift to her gear.

Her thick leathers and warm fur cloak ended up doing her many favors the further she crossed into the East. The first week's rain was replaced by the second week's snowfall. The Mandes Mountains were only a few, and just over them would be her hometown of Herebor. Sweet, gloomy, crime-rich Herebor, that smelled of bloody meats and embers. The houses were on stilts raised from the lake, so the bulk of the city existed on bridges and ports. Herebor's natives were a sea people. It was the one and only case where water ran thicker than blood.

They were greedy, too; Odde deemed no place better fitting for a guild of thieves. Even the honest folk were pining over gold and fancy things, willing to kill each other over a silver goblet. Tragic, really, but Odde loved it.

She set up camp in an alcove of the mountains, her breaths labored from the thin, cold air. Upon the morning, she would be home, once more blessed with familiarity. She knew that comfort wouldn't last long. This is just another job,she reminded herself, curling up beneath her furs. A very important and rewarding job, but just another job.

When she woke the next morning, her plans to immediately get on the road were shirked. She gasped and gave a start, snatching up her dagger to brandish at the stranger sitting no more than a foot away from her, stirring a campfire with a charred stick. He wore heavy steel armor, his belt studded leather. The gold-hilted sword hanging from it didn't escape her notice. Beneath the armor, the man was almost inhumanly large. Dark of skin with a cropped beard and short hair, he was the picturesque of a warrior.

Odde had danced with a warrior once or twice in her life. It never panned out well. "Who are you?" she demanded.

A muscle in the mysterious warrior's jaw twitched. He side-eyed her with his sharp, black eyes. "You know who I am." His voice was heavily accented and deep. He had given many commands in his lifetime.

Odde narrowed her eyes. "I've never seen you before in my life," she insisted. "Who are you? Tell me, or this knife will be lodged into your eye before you can even think of drawing that sword." She would be fine in combat with this man as long as she didn't let him get close. She was quick, if not strong, and her aim was incredible.