The forest greeted them with a cold morning twilight. Branches intertwined overhead into a dense canopy, through which the rays of the rising sun barely penetrated. The horses’ hooves sank into the soft moss, and only the occasional crunch of twigs broke the silence.
Amanda rode at the front, her face beneath the helmet impassive. But inside, everything was screaming.
Every beat of the hooves carried her farther from the castle, farther from him, farther from the life where she had almost allowed herself to believe she could be happy.
“You did the right thing,” she kept telling herself. “You did the right thing.”
But her heart refused to listen. It had stayed behind, in that bedroom, on the pillow next to that stupid note.
“Girl,” Torglin’s voice cut through her gloomy thoughts, heavy as a rockslide in the mountains. “We need to make a stop. The horses are getting restless.”
Amanda glanced back. Torglin sat atop his gelding like a boulder on a mountaintop — massive, immovable, with a beard you could hide a good dozen daggers in. Beneath his simple traveling cloak lay what made their small party the most dangerous in these lands: a full set of armor forged from mithril and orichalcum alloy. Invisible armor that no blade could pierce. And helmets that, once donned, rendered the wearer unseen.
“Alright,” Amanda nodded. “Over there, by the stream.”
They dismounted near a small brook. The horses drank greedily. Torglin lowered himself onto a rock, pulled out his flask, and took a swig.
“Good water. Not like in the mountains, but it’ll do.”
“Torglin,” Leo said, crouching by the stream, “you’ve been frowning all morning. What’s on your mind?”
“Whether we did the right thing,” the dwarf grunted, glancing sideways at Amanda. “Girl, are you sure this wasn’t a stupid mistake?”
Amanda froze, her flask halfway to her lips.
“What exactly?”
“You know what,” Torglin looked her straight in the eye. “The heir will wake up, find your little note… and what then? Will he rush off to search for you? Or will he wait, like you asked him to?”
“He’ll wait,” Amanda said, but her voice wavered.
“Will he?” The dwarf smirked. “Girl, I’ve seen his eyes. That lad doesn’t know how to wait. It’s in his blood — to charge into places he’s not invited.”
“Torglin’s right,” Leo added. “The heir isn’t the type to sit idly by.”
Amanda sank down onto the grass. They were right.
She knew it.
“That’s exactly why I didn’t take him with me,” she said quietly. “The duchy is weakened after the war with the horde. If Randel crossed the border with a detachment, the Empire would get the perfect pretext for invasion. ‘Eichenwald is interfering in the khanate’s affairs’ — and Cassius would bring the full might of the Empire down on us.”
The dwarf thoughtfully stroked his beard.
“And what if you go alone?” he asked. “Three people — a girl who can fool anyone, an old short-legged veteran, and a young quick-footed rascal. That’s not an invasion. That’s… what? A runaway?”
“Have you forgotten?” Amanda said. “Officially, we don’t even exist in these lands.”
“Fair enough,” Torglin nodded. “Now tell me one thing, girl. Where exactly are we going?”
Amanda opened her mouth. Then closed it.
A heavy silence fell over the group.
“You have no idea where you’re heading, do you?” the dwarf narrowed his eyes.
“I…” Amanda looked away. “There’s a rebellion in the Sardar Khanate. Kaelan is somewhere there.”
“Somewhere?” Torglin spread his arms. “Girl, the khanate is half the size of the duchy! Mountains, steppes, cities, deserts! You planning to ride around blindly?”
Leo pulled a map from inside his jacket and spread it on the grass.
“I managed to learn a few things before we left,” he said. “The uprising started in the east, in the stone quarries. Kaelan escaped from there and gathered a force. The latest rumors say he’s moving toward the trading city of Kara-Shahar. It’s a major caravan hub. If the rebels take it, they’ll gain control over the trade routes.”
“Kara-Shahar,” Amanda repeated. “Where is that?”
Leo pointed at the map.
“Right here. Two weeks’ ride if we go straight through the pass. But the pass is most likely controlled by the khan’s troops. We’ll have to go around, through the steppes. That’ll take at least three weeks.”
“Three weeks…” Amanda stared at the map. “We’ll need information along the way. And a guide.”
“Then we head for the border town,” Torglin nodded. “Which one’s the closest?”
“Thorne,” Leo said, tapping the map. “Two days from here. It’s a trading post with a caravanserai. Always crowded — perfect place to gather rumors and hire a guide.”
“Excellent,” Amanda stood up. “Then I have a plan.”
She walked over to her horse and pulled a bulky bundle from the saddlebag. Unwrapping it, she let the contents spill onto the grass.
Torglin let out a low whistle.
There lay her armor. But not the gleaming golden suit she had worn before the council and on the battlefield as the Guardian. These were different — at least in color. The same mithril-orichalcum alloy: light, incredibly strong, and impenetrable. Yet the color… someone had spent many long hours turning that radiant gold into a matte, light-absorbing black.
“You…” Leo began.
“Before we left, I asked Thorgrim to work on it in the forge,” Amanda said with a small smirk. “I needed the gold changed to black.”
“Now no one will say it’s worth a fortune or blind anyone with its shine,” the dwarf grunted, stroking his beard. “I used to make this kind of blackened finish back in my mountains — beautiful work. Special paint, coal-based. But there’s one downside. You won’t be able to vanish anymore, because the color is too dark.”
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“But these are the Guardian’s armor,” Leo frowned. “People will recognize them.”
“They’ll recognize the golden ones,” Amanda replied, lifting the helmet she had worn at the councils — the one that let everyone see her face. “This color is far too grim for that.”
She set it aside and reached deeper into the bundle, pulling out another helmet — the one that had been lying at the very bottom.
Leo froze.
The helmet was black as night, without a single reflection. Its shape was predatory and sleek, with sharp angles that made it resemble the snout of some fierce beast. The visor covered the entire face, and where the eyes should be, two narrow slits burned with dark red lenses. The glass — if it even was glass — shimmered faintly in the sunlight like embers buried in ash.
“This…” Leo swallowed.
“Leftover alloy,” the dwarf chuckled into his beard. “When the girl said she wanted ‘something special,’ I didn’t hold back. Spent a whole month in the forge while everyone else was sleeping. The lenses are my special pride. Ruby dust mixed into the alloy. From the outside, you can’t see a thing. From the inside — it’s as clear as a bright summer day. And the voice…”
“What’s with the voice?” Leo asked.
Amanda put on the helmet.
And the world changed.
Everything took on a reddish tint, yet remained perfectly clear. She turned to her companions, and the moment she spoke, Leo recoiled.
“Can you hear it?”
The voice was low, hollow, with a metallic edge that couldn’t be tied to any man, woman, or even human. It rose from somewhere deep inside the helmet — distorted, cold, and utterly alien.
“That’s…” Leo didn’t recognize it.
“Acoustics,” Torglin grunted with a smirk. “The inner cut of the lenses and the shape of the visor distort the voice. No bastard will be able to tell who’s under the helmet. Man, woman, dwarf — hell, even an elf. The important thing is that it sounds menacing. And sounding menacing is half the battle.”
Amanda removed the helmet, and her usual soft voice returned.
“I’ll go as a mercenary. A mysterious warrior in black armor. No one will know who I am, where I came from, or what I want. And this,” she ran her finger along the edge of the helmet, “will make me someone to be feared. And those who are feared are rarely asked about their past.”
“What about your hair?” Leo asked. “It’s… very recognizable.”
Amanda smirked and pulled a black wig from her bag. It was thick and coarse, with messy strands that fell casually over the shoulders.
“Torglin whipped this up too. Horsehair and some of his dwarven resin.”
“Sticks like death itself,” the dwarf nodded. “No wind will blow it off. And once the helmet’s on, no one will see a thing.”
She pulled the wig on and adjusted it. Long black strands cascaded over her shoulders, hiding her neck. The great Guardian was gone. In her place stood someone else — dark, dangerous, faceless.
“Well?” She put the helmet back on, and her voice instantly became that same metallic, alien growl. “Who am I now?”
Torglin looked her up and down. Black armor, a black helmet with glowing red eyes, a black cloak draped over her shoulders. A sword at her belt. Her figure was impossible to read — beneath the plates, there was no trace of curves, only the predatory silhouette of a warrior.
“Terrifying,” the dwarf admitted. “I’ve known you for years, and it still gives me chills. You don’t look like a person anymore. You look like… something that comes in the night.”
“That’s the point,” the voice from inside the helmet sounded muffled, echoing with metallic resonance. “In Thorne, I’m not the Guardian. I’m just a mercenary. A nameless dark swordsman. Someone who seeks war. Someone who doesn’t give a damn about the Khan, the Empire, or anything else. Someone who wants to join the strongest side.”
“Kaelen?” Leo asked.
“The rebellion,” Amanda corrected. “If Kaelen is its leader — I’ll find him. If not, we’ll slip away. And in this guise, no one will connect me to Aichenwald.”
“And us?” Torglin slapped his chest.
“You’re my crew. Leo — you’re my squire. And you, Torglin…”
“Grandpa?” the dwarf grinned, baring his teeth.
“My bodyguard,” the voice from the helmet seemed to smirk, though the metallic echo made it impossible to be sure. “An old veteran who’s seen a hundred battles and now serves me for good coin.”
“What if someone recognizes the armor?” Leo asked. “It’s still mithril and orichalcum… that’s rare.”
“They’ll recognize gold,” the dwarf waved him off. “I coated these so well that even my brother — the clan’s master smith — wouldn’t tell them apart from common steel. Unless he starts scratching at them, of course. And who’s going to scratch the armor of a man who looks like he could burn you alive with a single glance?”
“You’re right,” Leo nodded. “In armor like that, no one will ask who you are. They’ll just assume you’re someone important… or dangerous.”
“Both,” Amanda said, removing the helmet. Her normal, soft voice returned, as if she had become herself again. “But we’ll need gold. For a guide, for food, for bribes if necessary.”
“Already taken care of,” Leo patted the saddlebag. “Before we left, I… borrowed a little from some of the nobles. The ones who complained too loudly about you taking a seat at the council table.”
“You stole it?” Amanda raised an eyebrow.
“Took it for temporary use,” Leo corrected with an innocent expression. “For a rainy day. And as you can see, the rainy day has come.”
Torglin slapped his thigh and laughed.
“Good lad! A real thief… I mean, scout! With gold and that look,” he nodded at the black armor, “we can walk into any city without trouble. The main thing is to carry ourselves with confidence.”
“The most important thing is not to remove the helmet,” Amanda added. “As long as we’re in the city, I’m the mysterious warrior. No one should see my face. No one should hear my real voice.”
“And if someone asks?” Leo said.
“Then I’ll say I’ve taken a vow,” she put the helmet back on, and the metallic voice returned. “A vow of silence before battle. A vow that can only be broken by blood. The Sardar Khanate loves fanatics like that. The more secrets, the more respect.”
“Girl,” Torglin shook his head, “you’re a con artist. A real con artist. You already fooled the whole world with your fake magic, and now you want to fool the entire khanate too.”
“It’s not conning,” the voice from the helmet sounded cold. “It’s strategy. I can’t approach Kaelen as Amanda. The Guardian of Aichenwald cannot support a rebellion in a foreign country. That would mean war with the Empire. But a nameless, mysterious mercenary with no past… such a person can do anything.”
“What if Kaelen turns out to be someone who doesn’t deserve your help?” Leo asked quietly.
Amanda removed the helmet. Her face was pale and tired, but fire burned in her eyes.
“If he turns out to be a tyrant who simply replaced one khan with another,” she said in her real voice, “then I’ll do what I must. I’ll simply leave. We’re not in a book where we can fight everyone and think we’re immortal.”
She didn’t finish.
Amanda remained silent for a long time. A very long time.
“Well said, girl,” the dwarf finally stood up. “But let’s find him first. Then we’ll figure it out. And by the way…”
He narrowed his eyes slyly.
“You still haven’t told us what was in the note. To the heir.”
Amanda blushed, even under the helmet.
“None of your business.”
“Oh, come on,” the dwarf waved her off. “We’ve cut so many throats together that we’re practically family. Besides, you’re now this dark, mysterious warrior without a face. And the heir is probably racking his brains over there. Spill it.”
“I wrote…” Amanda hesitated. “That ancient forces are calling me. That I must fulfill my destiny. That my path leads to where I will have to hold back the onslaught of ancient creatures beneath the earth.”
Torglin froze. Leo froze.
Silence fell. Such deep silence that you could hear an ant dragging a straw.
“You…” Torglin’s voice trembled. “You wrote to him… that you’re going underground to the creatures?”
“Well… not exactly like that…”
“Girl!” The dwarf clutched his head. “You’re the Guardian! You fooled the entire world! You could have come up with anything! An illness! A secret mission! But going underground?!”
“I thought it would sound mysterious!” Amanda exclaimed.
“Mysterious?!” The dwarf actually jumped. “Girl, that sounded like pure nonsense! The heir is probably not gathering a pursuit party right now — he’s calling for healers! He must think you’ve lost your mind!”
Leo turned away, hiding his face, but his shoulders were shaking with laughter.
“Leo!” Amanda snapped. “Stop it!”
“Forgive me, my lady,” he managed, choking back laughter. “Creatures beneath the earth… you could have come up with something better…”
“What is wrong with all of you…” Amanda clutched her head.
“Alright, alright,” Torglin took a deep breath, calming himself. “We’ll deal with that later. First we find your brother. Then… then you return to Aichenwald and give him a proper explanation. Got it?”
“Got it,” Amanda grumbled.
“Then put on your scary mask,” Torglin nodded toward the helmet. “Time to learn how to be a nameless mysterious warrior.”
Amanda donned the helmet. The red lenses flared to life behind the black visor. The metallic voice — cold and alien — spoke:
“I do have a name. They will call me… Morok.”
“Morok?” Leo echoed.
“Shadow. Specter. The thing people fear in the dark. The Sardar Khanate loves names like that. They stick in the memory. And I need to be remembered. I need rumors of a dark swordsman to reach Kaelen before I do.”
“Morok it is, then,” Torglin smirked. “Well then, Lord Morok, lead us to adventure. Just try not to scare our guide to death before he actually takes us anywhere.”
The black figure swung into the saddle with surprising ease for someone in full armor. The red lenses gleamed in the forest gloom.
“Forward.”
And the three riders dissolved into the morning mist, leaving behind Aichenwald, love, and their old lives. Ahead lay Thorne, a foreign khanate, rebellion, and a brother.