Chapter 6

The first light of dawn began to pierce through the veil of night, Akame found herself leading Aragon through the undulating hills. The reins hung loosely in her hands and the black stallion followed beside her.

The landscape, a mosaic of golden hues as the sun rose, stretched before them in a vast expanse. Akame, notorious for her lack of destination skills and navigation prowess, had a vague inkling that she might be heading north toward Fairmarket. However, she wasn't entirely certain, and her indifference to the chosen direction echoed in her nonchalant demeanour.

She had chosen that destination hoping to at least find a suitable job to start off.

The hills bathed in the warm hues of morning, rolled like waves beneath their feet. The floating flame, still present as a companion to their journey, flickered with the morning breeze before Akame waved her hand and it dispersed into thin and disappeared.

As they traversed the undulating terrain, Akame's red eyes scanned the horizon, a perpetual lookout for any sign of civilisation but could only see hills with their wild grasses swaying in the breeze.

"You know what would be nice" Akame started first thing in the morning with a craving. "KFC" just the thought of that crunchy fried chicken made her mouth water. "KFC" she said again but with a tone of longing.

Aragon snorted.

"You're a fuckin herbivore, what are you huffing about" Akame shoved his head away in a playful manner. As if understanding her jest, Aragon shook its head and snorted again.

Akame's eyes widened ever so slightly, and a mischievous smile played on her lips. With a subtle, upward arch of her eyebrow, she conveyed a mix of smug and playfulness, "What? Having an identity crisis, are we? Don't know if you're a domestic herbivore or a wild carnivore predator." she mused, her words lost to the wind as they continued their path across the hill.

Again, Aragon snorted once more, it's huff of breath brushing away Akame's strands of hair. "What? It was a joke. No need to be so sensitive" Akame snickered, placing a hand on its muzzle, and gently caressing it.

The morning sun cast long shadows as they walked silently beside each other, the destination—Fairmarket or otherwise—merely a backdrop to the unfolding narrative of Akame's uncharted adventure. Akame continued her journey on foot through the rolling hills, the crunch of gravel and soft soil beneath her boots became a rhythmic accompaniment to her thoughts. The morning sun now fully ascended had bathed the landscape in a warm glow.

Her preference for traveling on foot wasn't merely practical; it was a deliberate choice to feel the pulse of the land, to embrace the ancient essence of exploration. The exercise invigorated her, connecting her with a sense of freedom that only the open road could provide.

As she traversed the landscape, a sudden interruption shattered the tranquil solitude. In the distance, a male voice pierced the air, pleading for mercy with desperate urgency. The words, barely audible on the gentle breeze, carried a plea for survival.

Akame, her senses heightened, froze in her tracks. Her red eyes scanned the horizon, pinpointing the source of the distress. The plea echoed once more, a cry for mercy intertwined with the subtle rustling of the wind through the grass.

"Are shitting me. Not on the second day" Akame mumbled annoyingly. She already dealt with trouble yesterday.

On her first day too!

And now this!

God just loves to entertain himself doesn't he.

Akame changed her course towards the origin of the distress. As she approached, the words became clearer, forming a desperate mantra. "Please, take whatever you want! Spare me, I beg you!"

The landscape revealed a scene of vulnerability. A lone figure, surrounded by the undulating hills, faced an unknown assailant or threat. Akame, still hidden by the terrain, observed the unfolding occurrence with a detached yet keen interest.

"More bandits huh" she whispered softly, her eyes staring sharply at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Whether it was an act of mercy or a calculated decision, Akame contemplated her next move. The plea for survival lingered in the air, a poignant reminder that even in the vast expanse of the ancient world, the threads of destiny could weave unexpected encounters and decisions.

Akame observed the scene from a distance, her demeanour remained calm and composed. The chaos unfolding before her was familiar; she had encountered similar instances in her own world. However, this recognition didn't make her indifferent or heartless.

The bandits, engrossed in their pillaging and mockery, seemed oblivious to the distant presence. Akame's red eyes remained fixed on the unfolding event, calculating, and assessing the situation.

While she acknowledged that cruelty and thievery were facets of the world, Akame couldn't bring herself to turn away from the plight of the old man. Her sense of justice, tempered by the experiences of her past, compelled her to act, not out of misplaced heroism but out of a pragmatic understanding of the consequences of inaction.

The old man, still on the ground, pleaded with desperation in his eyes. The bandits, revelling in their perceived dominance, showed no signs of mercy. Akame, her expression unchanged, weighed her options.

She knew she couldn't let the bandits leave the old man in a state of helplessness. A calculated decision loomed, a choice to intervene and disrupt the bandits' sense of impunity.

With a nonchalant stride, Akame casually approached the bandits and the distressed old man. The loud steps of Aragon gravel disrupted the chaotic scene, and the bandits turned with surprise etched on their faces. Even the old man, hope flickering in his eyes, gazed up to see who had interrupted the unfolding tragedy.

Akame's appearance, a stark contrast to the rough demeanour of the bandits, captured their attention. She wore an outfit that, while different from their continent, exuded an air of nobility. The black kimono-like attire, embroidered with bronze Chinese dragons, hinted at an unfamiliar elegance that set her apart.

Nothing like they had ever seen before.

Her red eyes, sharp and piercing, surveyed the scene with an almost detached curiosity. The bandits, momentarily stunned by her sudden appearance, exchanged uncertain glances. The old man, still on the ground, found himself gazing up at a figure that defied his expectations.

Akame's beauty, striking and otherworldly, added an element of intrigue to the tableau. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded down with an almost regal grace. As the morning sunbathed the scene in a warm glow, her presence seemed to radiate an ethereal energy, drawing attention, and unsettling the bandits.

Silence hung in the air for a moment as the bandits, unsure of how to react, looked upon this unexpected interloper. The old man, his distress momentarily forgotten, couldn't help but wonder if this mysterious figure might be his unexpected saviour.

Or not.

Akame, her expression unchanged, broke the silence with a dry remark. "Well, this looks like a fine mess you've got here." Akame said eyeing each object and material on the ground before she glanced back at the men. "Mind sparing me the trouble and letting the old man go?" Her tone, a mix of sarcasm and boredom, cut through the tension, leaving the bandits uncertain about the nature of the impending encounter.

The bandits, recovering from their initial surprise, responded to Akame's request with a barrage of laughter and mocking remarks. One of them, a particularly brash individual with a crooked grin, stepped forward, pointing at Akame. "Look at this one! A lady thinks she can stroll in and play the hero. What are you gonna do, sweetie? Bat your eyelashes and hope we'll just walk away?"

His companions joined in, jeering and taunting, their crude laughter echoing across the hills. Another bandit, with a scraggly beard and a malicious glint in his eye, chimed in, "Lonely, are we? Maybe we should teach her a lesson about meddling in men's affairs."

Akame, seemingly unfazed by their provocations, maintained her stoic demeanour. Her expression turned blank and she bluntly responded with "No thanks. I'm good."

The bandits, however continued to ridicule the lone solider. "Aye you think she is a noble dressed all like that?"

"You dim wit." Another man growled back. "If she was, she wouldn't be traveling all alone with a horse" the same angry bandit said.

Another bandit, leaning on a makeshift weapon, added with a malicious grin, "Maybe she's looking for a knight in shining armour. Well, darling, you're out of luck. It's just us here, and we don't play nice."

"Especially with pretty little girls"

"I'm going to have fun fucking my cock inside of her. Listen to her moan like a whore while I do."

Akame face went deadpanned, 'Not this again, yesterday was enough', she thought.

The old man, listening to the banter with growing distress, whispered a desperate plea. "Please, lady, I appreciate your courage, but these men are ruthless. We might not make it out of this alive. Don't risk your life for me."

Akame, seemingly impervious to the bandits' crude remarks, responded in a low voice, "I didn't ask for your opinion." Her focus remained on the bandits, her posture unyielding.

With a measured tone she spoke once again, "There is literally no point in asking you guys again to let the man go seeing how your skulls are filled with shit instead a brain, I might as well just get this done and over with than act foolish in believing you might just leave if I ask again."

"Well, darling, if you want us to let the old man go, maybe you can offer us something in return. How about a little... entertainment? Take your clothes off and let us fuck you one by one. Let us see what you got under those robe-like clothes of yours".

His companions roared with laughter, revelling in the discomfort they hoped to impose upon Akame. The old man, still on the ground, looked on with a mix of despair and frustration, realising that the situation was spiralling out of control.

Akame's expression remained unchanged, her eyes revealing neither anger nor irritation. She simply continued to observe the bandits with a cold detachment. Ignoring the lecherous comment, she calmly addressed them, "Seeing how it's useless to get it through your large heads. Let's get this done and over with" Akame murmured under breath, annoyance audible in her tone.

Akame, sighing in irritation at the bandits' escalating aggression, calmly let go of Aragon's reins. With deliberate serenity, she approached the group, her black kimono billowing in the wind as if foretelling the imminent storm.

The bandits, emboldened by their numbers, watched her advance with a mix of arrogance and anticipation. Akame, however, decided that instead of making it a fair fight, she wouldn't use her katana on them, instead humiliate instead by fighting with her hands instead. As she closed the distance, her cold gaze fixed on the lecherous bandit who had brandished his sword.

She cracked her knuckles "I guess your first."

The bandit, still leering with misplaced confidence, responded with a mocking laugh. "You think you can take us on with those delicate hands of yours? I'd love to see you try, pretty lady."

Akame's expression remained stoic, her eyes betraying none of the irritation she felt. She circled the bandits with a calculated grace, each step echoing her quiet confidence. "Delicate? You have no idea." With that, she swiftly dodged a clumsy swing from the lecherous bandit and retaliated with a lightning-fast strike, incapacitating him with a well-placed blow to the abdomen.

The bandits, momentarily stunned by the unexpected display of skill, watched as Akame effortlessly evaded their attacks. The lone soldier moved with an otherworldly grace, her combat style a seamless fusion of martial arts disciplines that confounded the bandits. With a fluidity and precision reminiscent of both karate and kung fu, her movements seemed to transcend the limits of human capability.

In the midst of the skirmish, she executed a swift sidekick, sending one bandit sprawling backward with a surprised yelp. Before another could react, Akame smoothly transitioned into a series of quick strikes, blending elements of ninjitsu into her technique. She moved like a phantom, exploiting the gaps in their defences with a calculated efficiency.

Not a single blade was able to land on her.

Her hands became blurs, deflecting blows with a combination of blocks and parries that left the bandits bewildered. The bandits, accustomed to brawls and barroom scuffles, found themselves utterly unprepared for the precision and finesse displayed by their mysterious adversary.

As Akame continued to dismantle their ranks without the use of her katana, the bandits' laughter turned to grunts of pain and frustration. The old man, still on the ground, watched with wide-eyed disbelief as the mysterious woman effortlessly turned the tables on his assailants.

Each bandit fell down from each simple attack that came from Akame. She didn't need to use much of her abilities to take these men down, it was just seemingly a one-sided battle, with Akame insulting them by just dodging and disarming each man before sending them to the ground.

The last of the bandits squirmed on the ground, some paralysed by Akame's precise strikes on pressure points, she stood in the midst of the aftermath. Amid the defeated bandits, Akame pondered the fate she should mete out to these would-be assailants. Should she end them and ensure they posed no further threat, or would she show mercy and let them suffer the consequences of their actions?

Her internal deliberation was abruptly interrupted by the old man, who had managed to pull himself up from the ground. His eyes widened in disbelief as he surveyed the incapacitated bandits and the unyielding figure standing amidst them.

"You... you defeated them… Wi-without a use of a weapon" the old man stammered, his voice a mix of awe and gratitude. "I've never seen anything like it. Who are you?"

"No one" she responded blankly.

This had the old man standing in confusion but he was still recovering from the shock to even ask further questions and he nodded appreciatively. "You saved my life. I don't know how to thank you."

Akame ignored his thank you and turned her gaze away and to the fallen bandits. The defeated men groaned and squirmed on the ground; their bravado replaced by the harsh reality of their predicament. Akame's red eyes bore into them with an intensity that seemed to cut through the air.

"If you wish," she spoke up, her tone cold and unforgiving, "I can end them here and now. I'll give you the choice to choose their fates."

The old man, still processing the swift and overwhelming turn of events, stammered as he grappled with the weight of the decision before him. "I... I never thought I'd have to make such a choice. But they attacked us, and you saved my life. What do you think is the right thing to do?"

Akame's expression remained emotionless, her empty eyes only bored nothing but to kill whoever threatens her. "If I were to let them go, they would continue to torment other travellers. I rather have them killed" she said half-heartedly.

The bandits, hearing this grim exchange, pleaded for mercy with muffled groans. One of them, less affected by Akame's paralysis technique, attempted to crawl away, his fear palpable.

The old man looked from Akame to the groaning bandits and back again. "I never thought I'd be in a situation like this. But... I can't condone killing them in cold blood. I appreciate you saving me, but I can't become a killer."

"It seems I made a mistake asking for your decision. I thought you would have wanted them gone because of what they tried to do but it seems your just as foolish as the rest of them" her tone was cold and mean, not an ounce of mercy in her voice as she gazed at him then to the bandits. 

Akame turned away, her red eyes pierced coldly through the air, lingering on the fallen bandits still sprawled on the ground. A subtle furrow in her brow hinted at the contemplation brewing within her. Her thoughts churned with the realisation that letting these bandits go might not be the wisest decision. After a moment of contemplation, Akame unsheathed her katana with a fluid motion that resonated with a chilling finality. The metallic whisper of the blade leaving its scabbard seemed to cut through the tense air as her red eyes bore down on the fallen bandits.

"Giving them a second chance might be a mistake. They're better off dead than alive, wandering these lands with malice in their hearts."

The old man, catching a glimpse of the cold determination in Akame's eyes, nodded solemnly, understanding the harsh reality of the choice before them. He had no place to interfere with Akame nor had the power or words to stop her.

Not after what he had just witnessed.

Akame approached the incapacitated bandits, her katana gleaming in the subdued light. The fallen men, groaning and still paralysed, looked up at her with a mix of terror and realisation that their fate hung in the balance.

"Please, have mercy on us" one pleaded had. "We won't do it agai-" he didn't get to finish his sentence as the katana thrusted into his skull, the sounds of flesh tearing and bones breaking terrorised the rest of the men.

Not sign of guilt shown in Akame's eyes not even her expression changed.

"Funny that the old man said the same before but to have his plead ignored" Akame spoke, her voice devoid of emotion. "But then again everyone tend to say the same thing when a blade is by their throats."

With swift and precise strikes, she delivered a swift end to each bandit, her katana moving with a lethal grace that left no room for mercy. "I have done my part now it's for God to judge on your pathetic souls".

When the grim task was complete, Akame cleaned her katana with a swift slash before she sheathed her katana with the same fluid motion. Turning away from the lifeless bandits, Akame directed her attention to the old man who stood in stunned silence. Her red eyes still containing that indifferent look, approached the man casually as if what she had just done did not happen at all. "You're not hurt are you" she inquired, her voice still cold.

The old man, still processing the events that had unfolded before him, nervously nodded. "Yes, I... I think so. Thank you for saving me. I never expected to encounter someone like you."

Akame noticed how his hands were shaking and his face gone pale but she ignored it. It's not her problem if the man is recovering from the aftermaths.

"Since you fine now, you should probably gather your stuff and head off. You don't need to stay in this shit hole any longer before you faint from shock."

The man nodded his head nervously and stumbled his way back to his wagon. She watched as he began to shakily pick up his scattered belongings.

As he gathered his belongings, the old man glanced at Akame with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "This isn't the first time this happened to me but it is the first to have someone help me. What's your name? And why did you help me?"

The lone solider stayed silent, her eyes analysing the man to see if he really should know her name or she should just leave. They weren't going to see each other again so what point is there for her to give him her name.

Akame's response was concise. "It doesn't matter what my name is. As for why I helped you, consider it a matter of circumstance. I don't abide by injustice."

The old man nodded in understanding. "Well, then, I'm grateful for your help. My name is Harlan."

Akame just nodded her head in acknowledgement. Even if this man gave her his name it didn't mean she was going to be guilt tripped to give her name. It's best if no one knew who she was. The lone solider observed Harlan for a moment, watching him slowly pick up the furs scattered on the ground, his stuff scattered all over. For a moment she pitted the old man who was forced to make a living like this, not like he had much choice as education in the ancient times were for the rich nobles and royalties.

"Let me help you with that," she said, crouching down to pick up some of the scattered items.

Akame assisted Harlan in gathering his scattered belongings, the old man expressed his gratitude with a genuine sincerity. "Thank you, milady. I don't know what I would have done without your help. Those bandits... they were ruthless."

Harlan's hands trembled slightly as he tried to secure the straps on his now-dishevelled wagon. The weight of the encounter, coupled with the unexpected intervention, had left him visibly shaken. He fumbled with his belongings, his eyes reflecting a mixture of awe and lingering fear.

Akame continued to help, her movements precise and efficient. "don't worry they won't be coming back anytime soon not after their dead anyway." She remarked, the man not knowing if she was being sarcastic or only plain blunt.

Harlan nodded, still grappling with the surreal nature of the events that had transpired. His brown eyes curiously glanced towards Akame who minded her own business as she helped pick up the animal furs on the ground. Nevertheless, her appearance exuded an air of refinement that set her apart from the common folk he knew of.

He couldn't help but notice the remarkable health and lustre of her long, jet-black hair. It flowed smoothly, untangled, and unmarred by the frizz and dryness that often plagued the hair of peasants. It was free and healthy as it gently swayed in the breeze. The meticulous care of her appearance stood out, almost as if she hailed from a higher echelon of society.

Her attire, an exotic blend of a robe and a long skirt, caught his eye. The fabric seemed to whisper of luxury, a stark contrast to the practical and worn clothing of a typical traveller. The bronze embroidery on her sleeves added an extra layer of mystery. Harlan squinted, attempting to discern the intricate patterns that looked like a long scaly snake but their elusive complexity remained beyond his understanding.

Harlan's gaze lingered on Akame's features, captivated by the uniqueness that echoed a heritage foreign to Westeros. Her almond-shaped eyes, a striking shade of crimson, held a depth and intensity that he hadn't witnessed among the people of the Seven Kingdoms. The pale, flawless complexion of her face bore an otherworldly elegance, accentuated by a delicately sculpted nose and high cheekbones that bespoke a lineage distinct from the Westerosi norm.

The smoothness of her skin and the overall refinement of her appearance hinted at a cultural background untouched by the harsh realities of Westeros.

He pondered the possibility of her belonging to a noble house. The Targaryen's, as he recalled from many years ago, possessed distinctive purple eyes that marked their lineage. Akame's striking red eyes were unlike anything he had seen, prompting him to wonder if they too held significance in the hierarchy of her people. The mystery surrounding this enigmatic traveller deepened with each passing moment, leaving Harlan both intrigued and mystified by the woman.

"I've travelled these roads for years, but I've never seen anything like you before. You're not from around here, are you, my lady?" he used a title in case she was from a noble house.

The lone solider side glanced to Harlan; her response was cryptic ""No, I'm not from around here," she admitted. "I come from Essos."

Harlan's eyes widened in surprise. "Essos? What brings you all the way to these lands?"

Akame's response was measured "I'm traveling. Documenting the lands of Westeros for a journal. It's a project of sorts." She lied so casually.

The old man was left confused, unable to understand her purpose and commented on it. "A journal about Westeros? That's quite an odd thing to do especially coming from a woman."

The lone solider already understood the meaning behind those words. Why is there woman trying to draft a book when she should be at home looking after the kids and attending to her husband needs as she is a woman not a man to do such brass stuff. She, however, was not concerned about the thoughts of other people nor this man, as much offence she took from him Akame didn't let it insult her. She wasn't born in this world to delve herself in this societies norm.

As much as they want to think about women being the uneducated sex, it wasn't going to stop her from doing the things she wanted to do. Who gave a fuck really of what other people want to say about her choices in life.

Although it wasn't like she really was going to write a journal, it was just an excuse to keep him from questioning her on any further matters and also to make an identity here.

Harlan saw the look Akame had given him. A sense of fear washed over him by the way her red eyes sharply gazed at him and he retreated back his words. "Apologies milady if I had offended you of any sorts" he said as lowered his head in shame.

"It's fine. It's not like it bothers me" Akame said letting it slide. She wasn't one to dwell into futile stuff such as this.

Harlan, sensing the weight of his earlier words, felt a pang of shame and guilt settling within him. He recognised that his presumptions about Akame's desire to write a journal solely based on her gender were unfounded and unfair. Realising the error in his assumptions, he sought to mend the atmosphere that had grown awkward between them.

Clearing his throat, Harlan shifted the conversation, hoping to reconcile with Akame. "I must admit, I spoke hastily earlier. I shouldn't have made assumptions about your pursuits based on your gender," he admitted, his tone carrying a genuine remorse.

Seeking to bridge the gap and dispel the tension, he continued, "Forgive me if I seemed insensitive. I'd be interested to know more about your journal. What is it that you plan to write about?" Harlan's questions were genuine, an attempt to understand Akame's perspective and find common ground in their journey.

The lone solider was silent for a moment, her mind wondering for answer for this man. "Stuff" she with a flat tone.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Life, the culture, places in Westeros, and an observation, a collection of perspectives—both from the commoners and the nobility so that I can sell it to people in Essos who seek information about Westeros."

"I see. Sounds like an adventure" He nodded his head in approval but his shame still lingered around him.

The lone solider sensed it from him.

Akame herself found a certain satisfaction in the lie she had conjured on the spot. The notion of documenting Westeros through the lens of everyday life appealed to her, and she decided to embrace the fabricated purpose.

In her mind, she acknowledged a liking for the idea—creating a narrative that would allow her to experience this world in a way she hadn't before. The lie, woven seamlessly into the fabric of her journey, resonated with a certain poetic irony. She recalled the history texts she had perused back at the lab, studying ancient civilizations from Greece, Rome, China, Japan, and Egypt, along with the medieval period. Each era fascinated her in its own way, and while she had never desired to be a part of any of them, the prospect of navigating Westeros through a guise of employment and exploration struck a chord within her.

Akame continued her task of collecting scattered items, her movements steady and deliberate. "I'm first starting out by seeking any job that allows me to explore this continent. Experience its culture, the ways of life—from the lowliest commoner to the most pompous noble. It's a way to survive and understand the land. Jobs lead to experiences, and experiences lead to knowledge." She explained thoroughly hoping that giving him enough answers would prevent him from asking anymore.

Harlan, still absorbing the enigmatic wanderer's revelations, wondered aloud, "What kind of jobs are you looking for?"

Akame's response was blunt, devoid of any optimistic tint. "Any job that pays and is willing to provide me some sort of knowledge of how things are run here."

Harlan nodded, contemplating the pragmatic approach. "So, you're looking for work to explore and understand Westeros?"

Akame affirmed with a stoic nod. "It's a practical way to witness this world through its people and places. Nothing more, nothing less."

Harlan, after a moment of contemplation, quieted down as if lost in his own thoughts. His gaze shifted between the scattered belongings and Akame, and then he spoke with a mix of hesitancy and resolve.

"You know, I've been traveling these roads for many years, and even with all the years of experience, I still find myself fearful of bandits. They can strike when you least expect it," Harlan admitted, a subtle vulnerability in his tone.

He continued, "Here's my offer, milady. Ever heard of sellswords? Warriors who ply their trade for coin? What if you were to accompany me to Winter Town? Experience the life of a sellsword, chronicle your observations, and, at the same time, provide protection. Once we reach Winter Town and these furs, quilts, and silks find their buyers, I'll see to it that you receive fair compensation. A mutually beneficial arrangement, wouldn't you say?

Harlan's eyes held a genuine sincerity, and the undulating hills seemed to echo with the weight of his proposal. The air between them hung with the anticipation of a decision, and Akame's red eyes bore into the old man's, contemplating the unexpected turn that the journey had taken.

As Harlan's proposition hung in the air like the mist over the undulating hills, Akame's red eyes remained fixed on him. To the observant, her expression seemed inscrutable, a veil concealing the intricate thoughts swirling within her mind. The moment stretched, and a palpable silence settled between them.

Harlan, a man shaped by the stories etched into his weathered features, waited patiently for Akame's response. The weight of his proposal, though couched in the language of risk.

In the stillness, Akame pondered the offer. To Harlan, she appeared almost emotionless when she fell into thoughtful silence. The truth was, she didn't mind such assumptions. Emotions were often a luxury she chose not to indulge in, an artifact from a time she preferred to leave behind.

Yet, in the recesses of her calculating mind, a singular concern gnawed at her thoughts. Was Winter Town close to any noble houses? The prospect of close proximity to the seats of power stirred a dormant wariness within her.

Harlan, though seemingly unassuming, was now privy to the details of her fabricated purpose, a guise she had crafted to navigate the vast tapestry of Westeros. While the sight of her wouldn't stir any interest among the nobility, the fear lingered that this man, in his earnestness or perhaps in casual conversation, might disclose her presence to others. A seed of worry took root—that whispers of her existence might traverse the land, reaching ears attuned to tales of the mysterious sellsword who roamed the outskirts of noble domains.

The undulating hills, timeless witnesses to countless deliberations and decisions, seemed to hold their breath, awaiting the outcome of Akame's internal debate. Her red eyes flickered with the play of shadows and secrets as the invisible dance between opportunity and caution unfolded in the quiet landscape.

Akame, amidst the delicate ballet of thoughts, finally broke her contemplative silence. Her voice, cool and composed, cut through the air as she posed a straightforward question to Harlan.

"Where does Winter Town lie?" she inquired; her red eyes fixated on his weathered face.

"Winter Town is a town in the north, not far from Winterfell. House Stark, the lords of Winterfell, hold sway in those parts. Have you ever heard of them?" he asked, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

Akame went silent. 'Winterfell…One of the places I told myself to avoid and not to mention it's home to the Starks. Not like I got anything against them.'

Harlan saw the discomfort in her eyes when he mentioned Winterfell and House Stark to her.

"Milady?"

The lone soldier snapped out of her daze and apologised for zoning out.

"About the starks, my knowledge is but a thread" she answered the old man, finally.

In the pregnant pause following Harlan's words of Winter Town's proximity to Winterfell, Akame's mind churned with calculated thoughts. She weighed the proposition, considering the potential advantages of this unexpected offer.

Akame considered the information she could potentially glean from Harlan. Money, for now, was not her immediate concern. She could play this part, use the opportunity to gather intel about the North, Winterfell, and the political landscape. When the time was right, close to Winter Town, she would gracefully part ways, abandoning the offered compensation.

She wouldn't need to enter Winter Town nor go near Winterfell, Akame would just go her own way once she feels like Harlan would be alright the rest of the journey.

But the thought of Harlan spreading information about her to other people also sent a wave of doubt. But even if he did would people in believe his story about her? Or would the nobles even consider to look her way when hearing of a woman in Essos being a sellsword?

She didn't know.

But Akame began to doubt it.

Harlan, awaiting her response with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, witnessed a subtle shift in Akame's demeanour. Finally, she spoke, her voice carrying a composed assurance that masked the intricacies of her true intentions.

"Your offer is duly noted," Akame replied, her red eyes betraying nothing of the wheels turning within. "I accept your proposition."

Harlan, satisfied with her acceptance, broke into a weathered smile.

"Thank you, milady. I have no doubt you will do well in serving as a sells word in my service."