The Crimson Spear

The spear-wielding fighter stepped forward, armor still dusted with goblin blood, and offered a hand like he was greeting an old friend. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one with bright green eyes, clean-shaven, and a grin so unguarded it almost looked out of place on a battlefield. 

The sort of man who looked like he should be advertising recruitment posters, not standing ankle-deep in monster guts.

“I’m Aiden,” he said cheerfully. “Leader of the Crimson Spear.” He gestured behind him. “That’s Lyris,” the archer gave a curt nod, causing her hood to move a little. 

Holy shit, she got cat ears! Okay, calm down Morgana. You can't drop your guard just because she is a cat girl...

“Darren,” Aiden continued, not noticing the slight shock on Morgana's face. The guy with the tower-shield raised a hand in silent acknowledgment.

“And lastly, Nyra.” The magician didn’t move, her eyes sharp and assessing under her hat, like she was cataloguing Morgana’s existence for future dissection.

“Morgana,” she repeated with a grin as she shook his hand, resting her scythe casually against her shoulder. “No titles. No group name. Just Morgana.”

I wonder how long that boyish smile of his would last if he knew what I actually were. Probably right up until he try to drive a spear through my skull.

Lyris’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, her black-furred tail swaying once behind her. Darren looked… neutral. Solid wall of a man, brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, posture steady even after the fight. Nyra, though, her expression carried the same warmth as a blade against the throat.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Aiden asked.

Morgana tilted her head. “What gave it away? My impeccable fashion sense?” She gazed at her attire which made her look like a normal villager instead of an adventurer.

Before Aiden could answer, a portly man in road-worn but fine clothing bustled out from behind the carriage. Gold chains hung across his chest, rings glittered on his fingers, and his beard was trimmed to precision. He looked exactly like the kind of man who believed gold could solve any problem.

“I owe you my life, young lady!” the merchant declared, waddling toward her with both hands outstretched. “That was… astonishing! Simply astonishing!”

Morgana stepped back half a pace. He reeked of sweat, wine, and horse, and she didn’t need him any closer. If he tries to hug me, I’m taking a finger.

“Yeah, well,” she said, voice flat, “I’ve had practice murdering small ugly things.”

Aiden’s mouth twitched, caught between amusement and disbelief.

The merchant rallied quickly. “I must repay you! Gold, of course. I will give you—” He paused, glancing toward a chest one of the adventurers was hauling back to the carriage. “—twenty gold coins for your service.”

“Pass,” Morgana said instantly.

He blinked. “Pardon?”

“Keep your coins. I’ve got more than I can carry already.” Which, unfortunately for him, was the truth.

“Then… perhaps fifty?” he tried again, as if the higher number would magically change her mind.

Morgana’s expression didn’t shift. “You could offer me a hundred and it’d still be useless if I don’t know a damn thing about this place. Gold’s nice. Information’s better.”

The merchant tilted his head. “Information?”

“Yes. You tell me about the local politics, the human-demon war, where I can sell high-value goods without getting stabbed in the back, and what cities aren’t complete shitholes. In return, I keep my weapons pointed away from you."

She then paused and leaned forward, smirking under her hood. "And I can even escort you to your destination if the information you give is top notch.”

That earned her a longer silence. Lyris muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like arrogant, but Morgana ignored it. Darren remained impassive.

The merchant studied her for a long moment. “And that’s all you want? No gold?”

“I want good intel,” she said flatly. “Think of it as hiring a guard who works for answers instead of coins. Saves you money, and I don’t have to waste time bribing some innkeeper for directions.”

Nyra finally spoke, voice smooth but edged. “You expect us to let you walk with us after appearing out of nowhere and swinging that… thing?” She nodded toward the scythe.

Morgana smirked. “I expect you to realize that if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be a corpse. This was me being nice."

Nicer than most people in my position would be.

She placed a hand on her hip and looked directly at Nyra's eyes, almost like challenging her into a stare contest, which made the magician tense up. "I could have just let the goblins and orcs deal with you all, and when everything calmed down, I could have swooped in to grab the goodies."

She gave her a wide smirk and added, "Which did crossed my mind..." causing Nyra to twitch uncomfortably.

Before Nyra could reply, Aiden, ever the optimist, clapped his hands together. “Well, I don’t see a problem with it. If the merchant’s fine with it, we could use the help on the road to Althwyn.”

“Althwyn?” Morgana asked.

“The city we’re headed to,” Aiden explained. “Three days’ travel by carriage. Big trade hub, busy markets, plenty of opportunity.”

Well, that's convenient. That's where I am headed.

The merchant finally nodded. “Very well. You have yourself a deal. You walk with us, and I’ll tell you what you wish to know.”

“Great,” Morgana said. “Start talking.”

He hesitated. “Now?”

“Unless you plan to give me the city brochure at the gates, yes.”

The man adjusted his cloak, falling into step beside her. “Very well. This is the kingdom of Velharen. Humans hold most of the north beyond the Blackspire Mountains."

"South of them, demons control the wastes and fortress cities. The war between the two… well, it’s been going longer than I’ve been alive. Trade between the factions is… complicated.”

“Complicated as in ‘illegal but profitable’ or ‘instant execution’?” Morgana asked.

Nyra’s gaze sharpened slightly, but the merchant only chuckled. “Depends on who catches you.”

So, both. Good to know.

As they walked, he spoke of trade routes, city politics, and which noble houses were locked in endless feuds. Morgana listened with the practiced disinterest of someone who filed away every detail while pretending to be half-bored.

When he paused for a drink, she cut in. “Alright, tell me something useful. What’s the going rate for gemstones in Althwyn? And I don’t mean what you’d tell a farmer’s widow trying to sell her ring. I mean the actual rate merchants pay.”

The merchant arched a brow. “You have gems to sell, then?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” she replied evenly. “But if I did, I’d like to know whether I’m walking into a fair deal or a mugging with extra steps.”

He gave a slow nod. “High-quality gems fetch a premium right now. The Duke has been commissioning jewelers for a grand event. Something rare could sell for ten times its base value.”

Morgana’s lips curved faintly. Well, that’s going to be fun.

Aiden glanced between them, curiosity plain but restrained. Lyris wasn’t as subtle. “You don’t talk like someone who’s new here before. But I’ve never seen you.”

“That’s because you haven’t,” Morgana said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one you’re getting.”

Lyris’s tail flicked, but she let it drop.

The rest of the road was a mix of the merchant’s lessons, Aiden’s attempts at friendly conversation, and Morgana’s clipped, sarcastic responses. By the time the group stopped to set up camp, she had a much clearer idea of the world she’d been thrown into.

And the uneasy awareness that at least two of the Crimson Spear were already trying to figure her out.

She doubted they’d like the answers they are searching for.