Sword point diplomacy 39 progress post

Travel was a lot faster with a noblewoman in the party. Marcel gave an appreciative rub to the neck of his borrowed horse, relishing the softness of sun-warmed hair under his palm.

Tiny Vivian was at the front of their group on a little pinto. She was still wearing her emerald gown, but she’d hitched the skirts up with a bit of leather to show off sensible trousers underneath and boots. She sat with an easy grace that told Marcel she’d spent a lot of time on horses.

He hadn’t, so he was something of a sack of potatoes on his friendly mare. It was fine. She didn’t seem bothered by the weight on her back.

They went on for hours until Kian eventually gave up and called for a break. He moved stiffly, jaw set in a way that told Marcel he was crabby about something. He didn’t waste any effort trying to figure out what that was.

The horses were tied to trees to rest and graze. The humans took their own break by stretching and laying out in the grass. Kian stalked off and came back with a refilled water flask. He opened his travel bag and unhappily ate a portion of hard tack.

Marcel copied him and then went to coo at his horse, who really was being such a good sport about things. The silly thing snorted at him and pressed her face into his hand.

“We’ll walk on another hour or so after this,” Vivian eventually said. Marcel glanced over to where she was perched on a tall rock, face resting on a palm. Her feet barely peeked out of the hem of her long skirts. “Then we should make camp for the night.”

“We could go further, couldn’t we?” Marcel frowned at her, feeling lines form on his face. “The horses aren’t so tired.”

“They’re not worn down yet,” Vivian admitted. “But we shall travel a full day tomorrow, and the day after. If we run them hard, they won’t make it.”

He let out a sigh and bowed to her wisdom on the matter. He opened his mouth to ask her about their route and saw the moment that she whipped her head up and to the left.

He followed the motion reflexively. That was the only reason he saw a violet shimmer in the air stop an arrow mid-flight.

A group of riders was cresting the hill in the direction they had come from. Who had come after them and why?

"Archer!" Marcel grabbed for his own weapon and then cursed. He didn't have his bow. His hand fell to the middling quality, simple blade that he'd been given as part of military kit. Not that it would do him any damn good at a distance –

"Thank you, my lady," Kian said.

The calm civility was bizarrely out of place. Marcel gave the knight an incredulous look.

"It is no trouble."

He whipped his head to the other side at her murmur.