Chapter 667: Arriving in Camp (Part One)
Ever since the appearance of the strange soldier who insisted they were heading into a trap, the atmosphere in the carriage had grown even more tense. Neither Isabell nor Tiernan were able to relax as the carriage carried them farther and farther down the dark, ancient road and the scowls they received from across the carriage didn’t help.
"Master Isabell," Sir Hugo finally said when he could no longer bear the pressure. "Don’t you think it’s time that you tell us where we’re going?" Owain’s steward asked as he glanced at Sir Rain. The burly knight might not have said anything, but the displeasure radiating off his stiff posture and the occasional cracking of his knuckles made it clear that the man was on the edge of turning violent.
"If we keep going like this, we might wander into the Vale of Mists by accident," he said nervously as he glanced out the window for what felt like the dozenth time in the past ten minutes. The night was so dark that it was impossible to see landmarks and he was beginning to lose track of time as the countryside rolled by in the dark but he was certain they were closer to the Vale of Mists than he’d ever come before, and if not, they would be soon.
"Even if the demons have been hiding like turtles in their shells, a turtle can snap at you if you come too close to it," he said, hoping that these ignorant merchants who had never once encountered demons would listen to common sense that people living on the frontier learned from the day they were children. No one wanted to be anywhere near the Demon Lady of the Vale, especially on a dark, moonless night in late autumn or winter!
"I don’t know where we’re going," Isabell said curtly as she fought to restrain herself from snapping at the timid knight. She knew he’d suffered at the hands of too many people in order to turn out this way but sometimes she felt like her young son had a greater measure of courage than Sir Hugo.
"Mister Marcel has made arrangements for this evening and I’m choosing to put my trust in him," she said, though whether she said it to defend the Black Merchant or to reassure herself was difficult to say. Her discomfort didn’t stem entirely from the strange man who had rushed at their carriage, but also at the way Marcel seemed to appear out of nowhere behind him, striking without warning and rendering the frantic soldier utterly senseless in a single blow.
Isabell was no stranger to men who kept order with a heavy strap or a copper banded club, but the precision and speed of Marcel’s silent attack put all of those rough men to shame.
"We should stop," Sir Rain said, frowning at the merchants who seemed to place so much faith in the young man who was driving the carriage. Perhaps it was because they saw him as one of their own, but even after all this time in the carriage, he couldn’t think of a single reason why they should put so much faith in such a suspicious individual. "I don’t like the idea of riding into a trap."