Chapter 80: A Distinguished Guest

Henk recovered far faster than Raymond had expected. After only five days, he could move as freely as ever, with no visible difficulty. Even the physician treating him remarked that half-orcs had far stronger constitutions than ordinary people. Nevertheless, he continued to keep Henk's wounds bandaged.

At noon that day, the three were eating at the inn when a sudden clatter of hooves sounded outside. The hoofbeats were powerful, and the horses' whinnies deep and sustained. These were clearly no ordinary animals. Everyone in the inn turned to look outside.

Raymond and his companions did the same. Several powerful horses had stopped at the entrance, and armored riders leaped down from their saddles and headed inside.

Mara was already reaching for the weapon beside her when Raymond caught her hand. At her startled, questioning look, he simply shook his head slowly.

The retainers wore mail beneath surcoats. Their leader also had a heavy breastplate and shoulder armor over his mail, with a tall oak tree painted on the breastplate. Together with their powerful warhorses, the equipment made it clear that these were no ordinary mercenaries.

Raymond understood Mara's concern. She must have thought the people who had tried to kill him and Henk had found them again.

For now, though, he saw no sign that these men were here for them. They looked more like a knight and his retainers. He could not draw his weapon on a mere suspicion. First, he would see what they intended to do.

The man in the breastplate removed his helmet and strode into the inn. His sharp gaze swept over every guest, lingering on each of those carrying weapons.

When his eyes reached Raymond's group, they lingered noticeably. His eyes glinted, and he turned his head to murmur something to the soldiers behind him. They soon looked toward the three as well.

Raymond also noticed several small badges on the man's shoulders and belt, each bearing three silver waves on a blue field.

That was the coat of arms of House Silvertide. Clearly, the knight served the family. The fact that he could still display his own arms on his breastplate meant he was a member of the military nobility entitled to bear a coat of arms of his own. The other men appeared to be his retainers.

The knight's behavior made Mara even more restless, but Raymond held her hand firmly, preventing her from taking up her weapon.

Henk had been eating his stew. Noticing their movements, he looked up at the armored riders. He said nothing, simply watching everything they did.

It soon became clear that the men had not come for Raymond's group. After giving them a little attention, the knight strode over to the counter and laid down several silver coins. “Prepare fifteen lunches, and one more served with sweet cakes, candied fruit, and fresh fruit. Feed the horses outside and groom them properly. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord,” a member of the inn's staff replied nervously.

One retainer remained near Raymond's group. The others began checking the rear door, the foot of the stairs, and the passage leading to the kitchen, apparently making sure the inn was secure.

The knight paid Raymond and his companions no further attention. Looking around the inn, he chose a spot against the wall, well away from the entrance and the aisles. He went over and spoke to each guest sitting there. They vacated their seats one after another, soon leaving four neighboring tables empty.

*Looks like someone important is coming. We'd better finish eating and leave.*

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Raymond signaled Henk and Mara with a glance. These men clearly were not here for them, but they were not people to provoke either. His companions were showing far too much suspicion and hostility. Fortunately, the knight and his retainers seemed unconcerned.

Without a word, the three began eating faster.

Throughout the past five days, Raymond had continued looking for a caravan they could join on the way back to Blackstone. Unfortunately, he had found none suitable. Henk was now almost fully recovered, and although the wound over Raymond's left ribs had not completely healed, it no longer troubled him much.

If he still could not find a suitable group, Raymond had intended to set out for Blackstone on foot the following day. This unexpected arrival had caught him by surprise.

The three finished their food in less than ten minutes. Mara's appetite was considerable as well. Though she ate nowhere near as much as Henk, she still ate at least as much as Raymond.

With their meal finished, they prepared to leave the inn. Besides continuing their search for a caravan, they needed to collect the equipment Raymond had left at the smithy for repairs and maintenance. They would also ask about horse prices. If no caravan was heading their way, they would have to buy one or two packhorses to carry the cargo while they walked back to Blackstone.

When they stood up, the retainer stationed nearby took notice. Raymond did not mind the men's watchfulness. They were clearly taking reasonable precautions to protect someone important and had done nothing offensive. More to the point, making enemies of several heavily armored men would be unwise.

Henk and Mara followed Raymond toward the entrance.

Another whinny sounded outside, followed by the creak of a carriage. Just as they were about to leave, the retainer who had been watching them extended a hand to stop them. “Stay here for a moment. Don't move.”

His tone was calm rather than forceful, but his meaning was clear. Several other retainers who had been resting also gathered by the entrance, apparently awaiting someone important.

Raymond frowned and glanced back at Henk and Mara. Instead of forcing his way past, he stood quietly and waited.

Two white horses drew an elegant carriage through a cloud of dust and stopped outside the inn. Their coats were a matching, pure white, and their harnesses were clean and tidy. Mud and dust covered their legs and the carriage wheels, however, suggesting a long journey.

The carriage had a dark body adorned with silver metal fittings. On its door were the arms of House Silvertide: three silver waves on a blue field. White silk curtains hung at the windows, and the workmanship was exquisite.

Several fully armed soldiers surrounded the carriage. Behind it came carts loaded with luggage and young men and women in light clothing, apparently traveling servants.

*So this must be the important guest. Someone from House Silvertide, by the look of it.*

Raymond studied the carriage, then found his gaze drawn to its door. He wanted to see who this important person was.

A pretty young maid hurried over and gently opened the door. The driver climbed down from his seat and placed a step beneath it.

A slender arm, pale with a rosy tinge, extended from the carriage. The maid gently took it to offer support.

The young woman wore a pale blue gown beneath a gray-blue cloak. Fine embroidery in silver thread adorned her neckline and cuffs. A narrow belt encircled her waist, and the hem of her gown fell almost to her feet, revealing brown leather boots. She wore little jewelry, but the quality of the fabric and the careful tailoring gave her an unmistakable air of nobility.

Lifting her skirt slightly with one hand, she descended slowly with the maid's help. Once on firm ground, she turned and thanked the maid with a smile before walking toward the inn.

The soldiers escorting the carriage remained outside. The knight and his retainers stood guard within, preventing anyone from approaching her.

Only after entering did she lower her hood, revealing long, pale blond hair, partially braided at the back of her head. The wind had blown a few strands across her face. She tucked them behind her ear and smiled and nodded to the soldiers on either side.

As she greeted them, Raymond had a clear view of her face. Her large blue eyes were bright and expressive, drawing his gaze for a few moments longer.

“Lady Margaret, this way.” The knight stepped forward to greet her.

“Thank you, Sir Charles.” Margaret's voice was soft and pleasant, her words clear, and her tone even gentler than Raymond had expected.

As Raymond stood staring, Mara pushed him from behind. “You're practically drooling,” she said impatiently. “Can we leave now?”

“Oh. Right. Let's go.” Raymond came back to himself.

The nearby soldiers had heard every word Mara said, but none commented. Margaret, who had been about to walk toward the corner, suddenly stopped.

She looked back at Raymond, then at Henk and Mara beside him. Her gaze lingered on Henk's bandaged body before she spoke. “Hello. May I ask whether you're mercenaries from Brightwater?”