Jethru narrowed his sharp, dark eyes at Lara, studying her intently as if he could pull the truth from the air around her. His shoulder-length, white hair shimmered under the pale glow of the moon, the silver beams casting an ethereal light upon his weathered face.
For a fleeting moment, Lara shifted under her master’s gaze. But she quickly steadied herself, straightening her spine. Her chin lifted, her brown eyes glinted with unwavering determination.
"My brothers were trained from childhood," she said, her voice a gentle melody against the stillness of the night. In her master’s presence, she does not need to use Kane’s voice. "I may have been pampered, and sheltered, but I also received training. My skills were honed early."
Jethru stroked his growing white beard, his fingers lost in its silky strands. "Then why," he mused, his voice carrying the weight of curiosity, "did those well-trained soldiers look at you as though you are their idol, especially Bener? He sings your praises louder than anyone. Shouldn’t they be the better warriors, given their training?"
Lara smirked, shifting her weight to one side before turning fully to face her master. "That’s no longer my concern," she said with a light chuckle. "Ah Master, the answer is simple—I learned from you. They did not. That is my advantage."
Jethru scoffed, though a glimmer of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Girl, I am already full of white hair. You don’t need to butter me up."
"But Master, I’m only speaking the truth," Lara protested, sincerity laced in her tone.
Jethru’s expression turned serious and his amusement faded. "That’s enough fooling around. You should come with me tomorrow. We’re returning to Calma. It’s far too dangerous for you to remain here, surrounded by boorish and reckless men. The longer you stay, the greater the risk of your identity being exposed. Wouldn’t you be charged with deception?" There was genuine concern woven into his words, his brows knitting together.
"Master, they don’t have capable healers here. How many soldiers would die if I leave? So what, if I am exposed. It is not like it is a crime for a woman to be a soldier. Besides, my priority isn’t fighting—it’s saving lives."
Jethru came to an abrupt halt, his boots crunching softly against the dirt beneath them.
"Are you truly set on staying?"
Lara met his gaze without hesitation. "Of course, I am."
He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "Hmph. Stubborn girl." A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "In that case... let’s go on a mission tonight."
Lara’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her lips curling into a grin. "I’ll grab my pack. Meet me under that tree." She pointed toward the towering oak beside the infirmary, its thick branches casting long shadows in the moonlight.
Then, without turning back, she sprinted, her feet barely touching the ground.
Lara pitched her tent beside the infirmary. Ducking inside, she quickly secured the flap before shedding her usual garments for black trousers and a black fitted jacket—clothes made for stealth. She retrieved a smaller backpack from within her large pack, one that carried essential supplies. Strapped to the side was a quiver full of sleek arrows and a compact yet deadly bow.
As she emerged, adjusting the straps on her shoulders, she found Jethru waiting outside, his arms crossed and his face unimpressed.
"You are still too slow."
Lara hummed. Then her gaze flicked to his head, and she frowned. Even in the dim light, his stark white hair stood out like a beacon.
With a sigh, she reached into her pack and pulled out a black cap, thrusting it toward him. "Here. Put this on, Master. Your hair will give us away."
Jethru rolled his eyes but snatched the cap from her hand, tugging it over his unruly locks. "You worry too much, Girl." He touched the cap on his head and said lightly. "Not bad, this cap looks great. And that backpack too."
"Don’t worry, Master, I have one made for you."
Without another word, the master and disciple slipped into the night, their movements silent as shadows. They sneaked out of the camp unnoticed.
The Sentro lay just a kilometer away, its dark silhouette barely visible against the night sky. The safest route snaked along the base of Mount Roca, where the shadows of the trees provided natural cover.
Scaling the southern walls was effortless for the duo—well-practiced hands and nimble limbs made the ascent and descent on the walls swift and soundless.
Unbeknownst to them, in the unseen depths of the night, three figures clad in black moved in their wake, mirroring their every step. And soon, the three became four.
Jethru was familiar with the town center. He had been here many times. Most of the supplies he purchased were from Carles.
They weaved through the streets and alleys, skillfully avoiding the watchful eyes of patrolling soldiers. Every step was calculated, every breath controlled.
"Master, where are we going and what will we do?"
Jethru did not answer her, but he ran and hid behind a big tree at the back of a grand estate. He carefully observed the surroundings and the timing when soldiers patrolled around.
"This is the mayor’s house." He said casually.
Lara’s breath hitched.
The Mayor? Were they going to spy on the mayor?
Inside the Mayor’s study.
A woman and a man were kneeling before Mayor Roder Fuerte, the old adviser, Magus, and General Turik.
"Mayor, forgive us. We failed." The man spoke in a voice just above a whisper.
An ashtray made from mahogany hit the man’s forehead and blood poured down his face.
The woman trembled but dared not cry.
"Mayor, they have a young soldier with them. He was very skilled and thick-skinned. While the other Northem soldiers were afraid to raise their hands on the children, he was not."
"Useless! Utterly useless!"
"But Mayor, everything the children threw on that soldier flew back. He did not care if the children were covered with rotten eggs and vegetables. They smelled so disgusting that their mothers sent the children home." Briella explained hurriedly, afraid that if she was a bit slow, the mayor would throw the wineglass at her.
Briella, I paid you a lot because you can manipulate people’s emotions and easily provoke them. What happened?" Mayor Fuerte was flushed with anger, he looked sinister against the lantern’s flickering light.
"That man, he was very good with words. I could not win an argument."