7. Nowhere to Run

Elliot sat atop his horse, watching the landscape streak past as he embarked on his final commission. It wasn't the simplest task, but delivering a young knight's letter and some money to his ailing parents tugged at his sense of duty. The knight had paid extra, and despite the long journey, Elliot had promised to see it through.

As he rode alongside five hired mercenaries, his thoughts drifted. "Maybe after this, I'll visit the old timers... Have a good meal, maybe even..." He suddenly thought of the elf clerk. "You know what, I think I'll ask her out."

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until the mercenaries started chuckling.

Gunnar, the leader, laughed heartily. "Oh, hoo! Our little errand boy's got a crush, eh?"

"What?!" Elliot blurted, flustered. "It's not like that—well, maybe. She does have great customer service skills."

Thorne, the muscle, raised an eyebrow. "Customer service skills, eh? That's what they're calling it these days?"

Lyla, the quick-tongued archer, smirked. "Bold move, Errand Boy. Better hope she doesn't see you as just another delivery!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Elliot replied, grinning despite himself.

Gunnar waved it off with a chuckle. "Ah, don't mind them. We're just messin' with you. Speaking of love, though, my wife would probably tan my hide if she knew I was out here again."

"Why? Isn't this your job?" Elliot asked.

"Aye, but she's got our two little girls to worry about. She hates it when I leave to fight goblins instead of tending the farm," Gunnar explained.

Lyla nodded. "Same here. I miss my sister like crazy, but the money... Gotta support her somehow."

Thorne grunted. "Family's what keeps us goin'. It's why we do this dirty work. Speaking of which, Elliot, ever think about settling down? Maybe opening a real shop or something? Instead of, you know, riskin' your neck?"

Elliot shrugged. "You're probably right. But then I'd miss all the... adventure? Plus, no one else would be crazy enough to deliver packages to Falconridge in the middle of a civil war. I have my niche."

Just then, Gunnar slowed his horse, raising a hand. His face grew serious, eyes scanning the trees.

"Quiet. We're being followed," Gunnar said, his voice low and tense.

The group fell silent. Elliot's heart raced as he peered into the dense forest, shadows dancing among the trees. Something felt off.

"Followed? By who? Bandits?" Elliot asked.

Gunnar motioned for the group to stop, lowering his voice. "Not sure yet, but stay alert. Could be anything. Goblins, bandits, or something worse."

Orin, the scout, dismounted quietly and slipped into the trees. He was the best at sneaking through the woods without making a sound.

Elliot felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. The easygoing banter from moments ago felt like a distant memory.

Lyla leaned over with a soft, amused voice. "Don't worry, Errand Boy. Orin's got this. He's like a ghost out there."

Elliot forced a nervous laugh. "Yeah, well, I prefer my ghosts to be delivering letters, not stalking me."

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before Orin returned, his expression grim.

"Two figures, keeping pace with us. I couldn't get close enough to see who or what they are, but they're skilled. They know how to stay hidden," Orin reported.

"Damn. Alright, everyone, stay sharp. Whoever they are, they're not just curious travelers," Gunnar ordered.

"Do you think they're after me? Because if they are, I gotta tell you, I'm not that interesting," Elliot said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Gunnar chuckled despite the tense atmosphere. "Kid, no offense, but I doubt they're after your charming personality. Still, better safe than sorry. We'll take a slight detour and make camp early. If they follow us, we'll know for sure they're after something."

The group shifted course, moving off the main path into a denser part of the forest. Elliot's mind raced with possibilities. Were the stalkers sent by someone? Was this related to that strange extra letter?

They finally reached a clearing and set up a small, discreet camp. The mercenaries worked in practiced silence, their movements efficient and methodical. Elliot fumbled with his bedroll, earning a few quiet laughs from the others.

"Relax, Errand Boy. Just another day in the life," Thorne said with a smirk.

"Yeah, sure, just another day. Sleeping in the woods, probably about to be ambushed by mystery stalkers. Totally normal," Elliot replied.

As night fell, the campfire's glow cast flickering shadows across the trees. Elliot lay on his bedroll, staring at the sky. His thoughts drifted back to the elf clerk and his fleeting decision to ask her out. If he survived this, maybe he really would give it a try.

But sleep eluded him. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves kept him on edge. He knew the mercenaries were awake too, keeping a vigilant watch.

Then, just as he was beginning to drift off, Gunnar nudged him awake.

"They're here," Gunnar said quietly.

Elliot's heart raced as he looked up. Across the clearing, two figures stood at the edge of the trees, barely visible in the firelight. One was tall and cloaked, their face hidden in shadow. The other was shorter, more agile, with glowing eyes that pierced the darkness.

The mysterious figures advanced slowly, and Elliot could feel the tension in the air grow thicker.