Go, Onyx!

"Is it true?" another man asked. "In that case, I will ask my master not to take that route."

For economic reasons, many merchants indeed chose to pass through the Silverwood as it was faster and required less energy. They would hire experienced couriers accompanied by mercenaries to guard their merchandise, ensuring they reached Broughton more quickly.

"I'm not lying. My brother is one of them," another chimed in. "He survived, but the injuries were severe, and he won't be able to work for several months. The Crimson Blades never play around with their victims."

The name Crimson Blades resonated in Ethan's mind. It was the name of the bandit group he led in the original plot, attacking Helena on the orders of Baron Stevenson. Why was he hearing the name of those scoundrels again? Especially when he had taken a different path from the main plot to avoid them?

An uneasy feeling washed over Ethan. After all, Helena was currently traveling to Broughton.

"Don't worry, Ethan," Eric reassured as if he knew what Ethan was concerned about. "Helena is taking a detour. She won't encounter any bandits on the road."

Ethan nodded, feeling relieved. Bandits rarely appeared in the city. Moreover, in the original plot, Helena managed to defeat Ethan and the bandits despite being injured.

"Don't worry, Ethan," Eric continued. "She is traveling with Peter. They can take turns guarding each other during rest stops."

Ethan furrowed his brow, looking at Eric with confusion. "Peter?"

"Yes, him. He may not be as skilled as Lady Helena, but he's not foolish. Besides, in this city, many men are no match for—"

Before Eric could finish his sentence, the sound of a drunken man's laughter filled the air. "Do you know how amazing my master is? She's a formidable woman! Brave and unbeatable! Hahahaha..."

Ethan pointed at the man climbing onto a table, surrounded by other restaurant patrons. "Is that the Peter you were referring to?" Ethan asked again, extending his hand toward the flushed-faced man who seemed utterly foolish at the moment. He was frustrated and unable to bear the shame of not being able to accompany his lady to the final destination.

"I'm sure no one in this world can surpass Lady Helena!" Peter shouted, laughing once again. "Not even the greatest knights can match her bravery."

Peter sat at a worn wooden table in a bustling tavern, the midday sun casting its warm glow through the small windows. Empty tankards littered the table, evidence of the merriment that had taken place. His cheeks flushed and his speech slightly slurred, Peter leaned back in his chair, a bottle of ale in his hand. The aroma of hearty meals filled the air as the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses surrounded him.

Raising his tankard in a haphazard toast, Peter let out a boisterous laugh that echoed through the tavern. "To Lady Helena!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a mixture of admiration and intoxicated mirth. "Brave as a lion, that one! Fearless in the face of danger!" He took a long swig from his tankard, foam spilling over the brim and running down his chin.

The other patrons glanced in Peter's direction, a mix of amusement and annoyance evident on their faces. Some chuckled and shook their heads, entertained by his drunken ramblings, while others rolled their eyes and returned to their conversations.

Peter, oblivious to the attention he was attracting, continued his enthusiastic praise. "And what am I? A coward, that's what! Oh, the stories Lady Helena could tell about my pitiful acts of cowardice!" He slammed his tankard on the table, sloshing ale onto the rough surface. "But not her! Never her! She's a true hero!"

As Peter's laughter subsided, he leaned forward, his expression turning somber. "I curse my own cowardice. To be in Lady Helena's presence is an honor, yet my own fears hold me back. I should be brave like her. I should face my fears head-on!" He thumped his chest with a closed fist, his voice filled with a mix of regret and determination.

The tavern's patrons exchanged amused glances and continued with their meals, leaving Peter to his drunken soliloquy. He raised his tankard once more, his eyes glistening with a newfound resolve. "From this day forward, I vow to be braver! To follow Lady Helena's example and face my fears! For she is the epitome of courage, and I shall strive to be worthy of her admiration! She will be the only woman crossing the Silverwood Forest alone."

With his declaration hanging in the air, Peter downed the remainder of his ale and stumbled to his feet, causing a chair to topple backward. The room erupted in laughter and applause as Peter, with unsteady steps, made his way towards the door.

However, a rough hand yanked him back. With a menacing face, the owner of the hand asked, "What did you say? Who was the first woman to pass through the Silverwood alone?"

Seeing Ethan's face, as if ready to devour him alive, Peter's eyes widened. Peter felt like his eyes were about to pop out because he never expected to meet the lady's husband only a few hours after he decided to shirk his guard duties.

Trembling, Peter tried to answer, "T-t-t-the... la-"

"Wasn't Stonegate the designated route for you? Explain!" Ethan shouted again, gripping Peter's collar even tighter.

"Lady Helena said she wanted to reach Broughton quickly, so—"

In a fit of anger, Ethan forcefully flung Peter into the neighboring table. The sound of crashing dishes and startled gasps filled the air as Peter collided with the table, sending plates and goblets tumbling to the ground. The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on the brewing storm between Ethan and the trembling Peter.

Ethan's chest heaved with anger, his eyes ablaze with fury. His towering figure cast a shadow over Peter, who cowered on the floor, desperately attempting to gather his wits.

Without further hesitation, Ethan forcefully took Peter's sword and strapped it to his own waist. He turned, facing Eric, and exclaimed, "I will catch up to Helena! You sort out all this mess!"

Ethan burst out of the restaurant, his footsteps pounding against the cobblestone street. With hurried hands, he fumbled to untie the tether that held his black stallion near the entrance. The urgency in his movements was palpable, his fingers trembling as he struggled to free the magnificent creature.

Onyx, sensing Ethan's distress, pawed the ground impatiently, his ebony mane flowing in the wind. The horse's powerful muscles rippled beneath his glossy coat, a testament to his strength and noble lineage. His dark eyes mirrored the intensity of the situation, reflecting a mix of anticipation and loyalty.

As the final knot came undone, Ethan's grip tightened on the reins, a surge of determination coursing through his veins.

With a mighty leap, Ethan swung himself onto Onyx's back, his skilled equestrian expertise guiding his fluid ascent. The saddle creaked under his weight, a fitting accompaniment to the mounting tension in the air.

Ethan leaned forward, his words a whispered command that only Onyx could understand. "Let us ride, my new companion. Helena's safety depends on our speed and determination."

With that, they were off, galloping through the narrow streets of the town with unmatched agility and grace. The rhythmic beat of Onyx's hooves echoed through the alleys, a thunderous declaration of their shared purpose.