Chapter 176: Eight Bounty Hunters Came for My Rifle

Raven discovered that a bounty didn’t need to be posted on a board to attract idiots. It only needed enough money behind it.

The first sign appeared shortly after they left Arven Crossing, though calling it a sign would have been generous.

It was a horse.

Raven spotted the animal tied beside a roadside watering post almost seven kilometers outside town. It was a good horse with a lightweight traveling saddle, the kind any merchant, scout, or mercenary might use. Nothing about it deserved more than a passing glance.

Except for the mud dried around its lower legs.

Rain had fallen north of Arven Crossing the previous night, but none had reached the town or the eastern road. Whoever owned the horse had arrived from another route recently.

Interesting.

Not enough to matter by itself.

Raven would have forgotten about it if he hadn’t seen the rider twenty minutes later.

The man sat beside a small fire near the road wearing a brown traveling coat, a sword at his hip, and a short bow within easy reach. A cup rested in one hand as he watched passing traffic with the deliberately relaxed posture of someone trying very hard to look ordinary.

Too hard.

Raven rode past without changing speed.

Valeria waited until they had put enough distance between themselves and the campfire before speaking.

"You saw him."

"Yes."

Roland was several meters ahead and turned his head slightly. "What?"

Raven glanced back once.

The man was still beside the fire, but he wasn’t eating, packing, or preparing to continue his journey.

He was watching them.

"We’re being followed."

Roland had enough sense not to look back again.

"How many?"

"That’s one."

Valeria adjusted the reins. "Church?"

"Doesn’t look like it."

"That doesn’t answer the question."

"I don’t know yet."

The eastern road continued between low hills and dry farmland. Compared with most routes they had used over the past few weeks, it was almost comfortable: wide enough for two wagons to pass, marked with stone posts every few kilometers, and dotted with small traveler shelters.

It also offered dozens of places where someone could observe the road without getting close.

Raven maintained the same pace and direction.

Over the next hour, the pattern became harder to dismiss. A wagon sat beside the road despite showing no obvious mechanical problem. Farther ahead, a man spent far too long pretending to adjust a horseshoe. Then Raven spotted a third figure positioned on a low hill with something resembling a short telescope pointed toward the road.

Roland spoke without turning around.

"That’s starting to become too many coincidences."

"Yes."

Valeria looked toward Raven. "What do you want to do?"

"Nothing."

"That doesn’t sound like you."

"They haven’t done anything yet."

"They’re following us."

"Following isn’t attacking."

Roland raised an eyebrow. "I’m writing that down for the next time you follow somebody."

Raven ignored him.

He didn’t want another fight.

That only sounded unusual if someone misunderstood him. Raven had never enjoyed unnecessary battles; he had simply encountered an unreasonable number of necessary ones.

The Mk.I remained secured inside its case with one projectile chambered and the system inactive. Raven had more ammunition than he had carried at South Relay, but nowhere near enough to waste rounds proving a point to people who hadn’t crossed the line yet.

Their followers could be mercenaries, thieves, scouts, agents, or simply extremely committed idiots.

Raven preferred information before blood.

He got it around noon.

---

They stopped beside an abandoned watering station.

There wasn’t much left: a wooden roof supported by four posts, a stone trough, and a low wall that had probably belonged to a small building years ago.

Roland checked the horses while Valeria opened one of the food bags.

Raven didn’t sit.

He walked around the station until he found tracks.

Three horses had passed through that morning.

Not east.

South.

Then they had returned to the main road.

Raven followed the marks for several meters until they reached a low hill overlooking the station.

Someone had waited there.

Valeria approached behind him.

"That looks less accidental."

"Yes."

"Want me to find them?"

Raven looked toward the surrounding hills.

"No."

"Again?"

"I want to know what they think they’re doing."

Roland appeared with a piece of bread already in his hand.

"And how do we find that out?"

"We let them try."

Roland stopped chewing.

"Ah."

Valeria smiled.

"That sounded more like you."

Raven surveyed the terrain.

Open ground to the east.

Rock formations to the south.

Scattered trees to the north.

A shallow depression behind the station.

It wasn’t a good place to ambush three competent travelers.

Which meant their pursuers probably wouldn’t attack here.

"We eat. Then we continue."

Roland sat down.

"And if they shoot from the hills?"

Raven estimated the distance.

"Then we find out whether they’re good."

"That doesn’t inspire confidence."

Valeria took a piece of fruit.

"You should be used to that by now."

Raven ate without rushing and even finished the entire portion before standing.

Valeria noticed.

She didn’t comment.

That was suspicious enough by itself.

---

Their pursuers waited another two hours.

Raven began to respect them slightly more.

Not because they were particularly skilled.

Because they weren’t completely impulsive.

They maintained distance, rotated positions, and rarely allowed more than one person to remain visible at a time.

That suggested coordination.

It also gave Raven an approximate count.

He estimated between six and ten.

Roland guessed seven.

Valeria said eight.

They learned the answer when the road entered a narrow passage between two natural rock walls.

The corridor lasted almost three hundred meters. There was enough space for wagons, but not enough to maneuver horses freely.

Raven saw the rope before Roland did.

Thin.

Low.

Stretched across the road.

"Stop."

All three horses halted.

Roland followed Raven’s gaze.

"Ah."

Valeria sighed.

"How unoriginal."

Raven examined the rock walls.

Nothing at ground level.

Then he looked up.

Movement.

Six.

No.

Eight.

Valeria had won.

Two archers above.

Three men behind them.

Three ahead.

The traveler from the campfire finally stepped into the road without bothering to pretend anymore.

Raven identified him as the leader before he even spoke.

Confidence helped.

So did the armor.

Not heavy plate, but reinforced leather with metal sections protecting the torso. A longsword hung from his hip, and a missing insignia had left a darker rectangle on one shoulder.

A mercenary who no longer wanted his former company identified.

Probably ex-company, then.

The man stopped roughly sixty meters away.

"Raven Ashford."

Raven didn’t answer immediately.

Valeria remained to his left.

Roland to his right.

The archers had arrows ready, but their bows weren’t fully drawn.

That mattered.

They still wanted to talk.

"Depends," Raven said.

The man smiled.

"On what?"

"How much they’re paying."

Roland coughed.

Valeria smiled.

The leader laughed.

"So you are him."

"That doesn’t confirm anything."

"Black hair. Silver streaks. Traveling with Lady Nacht."

Valeria raised one hand.

"Hello."

The man looked at her for too long.

Raven noticed.

So did Valeria.

"I didn’t expect you to actually be traveling with him," the mercenary said.

"A lot of people seem to have that problem."

Raven brought the conversation back where it belonged.

"What do you want?"

"To talk."

"You brought eight people to talk."

"You’re difficult to find."

"Not that difficult. You’ve been following us since Arven."

The man’s expression changed slightly.

Small.

Enough.

He hadn’t expected Raven to know.

Good.

"Then you know we don’t want trouble."

Raven looked toward the two archers above them.

"That would be more convincing without the arrows."

The leader raised one hand.

The archers lowered their bows slightly.

They didn’t put them away.

"There’s money for information about you."

"How much?"

The question surprised him.

Roland turned slightly too.

Valeria didn’t.

She knew Raven better by now.

"Six hundred crowns."

Not enormous.

Enough to justify eight mercenaries.

Raven immediately translated the number into something more useful.

Steel.

Processing.

Ammunition.

Several production batches.

That made the situation more irritating.

"Who’s paying?"

"They didn’t give us a name."

"Lie."

The smile disappeared from the man’s face.

Raven continued before he could answer.

"Nobody pays six hundred crowns for information on an unknown foreigner without explaining what they need. If this were identification, you’d need a description. If it were capture, you’d need conditions. If it were assassination, you’d need proof of death."

One of the men behind the leader shifted his stance.

Raven noticed.

"So let’s try again. Who?"

The leader remained silent.

Valeria rested one hand near her weapon.

"This is usually the point where conversations become less pleasant."

Raven kept watching the group.

"Orbrecht."

The reaction was tiny.

But it existed.

Enough.

"Interesting," Raven said.

The leader frowned.

"I didn’t—"

"You didn’t need to."

Valeria glanced at Raven.

Cassian Orbrecht was dead.

That didn’t mean House Orbrecht had stopped existing.

If anything, the opposite was more likely.

A dead noble created questions.

Family.

Money.

Revenge.

Politics.

If House Orbrecht had connected Raven to Cassian’s death, sending people after him was logical.

Annoying.

But logical.

"Alive?" Raven asked.

The leader hesitated for too long.

"Preferably."

"Then they want information first."

"We can resolve this without blood."

Raven glanced toward the archers again.

"The arrows continue contradicting you."

The man exhaled.

"We want the weapon."

There it was.

Valeria stopped smiling.

Roland became completely still.

Something inside Raven’s mind simplified.

"No."

The mercenary raised his eyebrows.

"You don’t even know what they’re offering."

"Doesn’t matter."

"It could be enough to buy another one."

Raven almost smiled.

"No."

"Then you don’t understand the situation."

Raven glanced toward the long case secured behind his saddle.

"I think I do."

The man took another step forward.

"We don’t need to kill you."

"You’ve already said that."

"Give us the weapon. Answer some questions. We leave."

"No."

"We can take it."

Raven tilted his head slightly.

"That would be different."

Silence settled over the road.

The leader studied him, perhaps expecting an attempt at intimidation.

Raven wasn’t trying to intimidate anyone.

He was clarifying terms.

The man raised one hand.

Both archers drew their bows.

Roland spoke quietly.

"They don’t want to talk anymore."

"I know."

Mana began gathering around Valeria.