The mercenaries left the border road shortly after sunrise.
Count Veyron's territory stretched west beneath them, a wide expanse of dark forests, rocky hills, and scattered farmland protected by distant watchtowers. Somewhere beyond the trees stood the count's fortress, but the road leading there wound through land that had not been cleared in years.
The mercenary captain warned them before they entered the forest.
"Stay close," he said. "The patrols stopped coming this far east after the werewolf attacks."
Teclos walked near the rear of the group, one hand loosely wrapped around Axel's dark chain.
Axel's gag had been removed, though a thin strand of darkness remained around his mouth as a warning.
The three slaves walked ahead of them, chained together beneath the watch of two wounded mercenaries. Their steps were slow, and the youngest man among them limped badly.
Axel watched them for a while.
"You could free them."
Teclos did not look at him.
"I could."
