The night was quiet, but not peaceful.
Julian remained at the edge of the camp, ears tuned to the faint sounds of rustling armor, hushed voices, and the occasional snort of a restless horse. Shadows danced across tents as firelight flickered low, casting the soldiers in a golden glow that made them seem larger, more imposing.
He didn't try to sleep. Not yet.
Instead, he watched.
The camp was laid out with military precision. Three fire circles. Four patrol shifts rotating every three hours. Unawakened guards paired with awakened ones. Celeste's strategy was efficient, designed to plug every weakness. She wasn't flashy, but she was thorough.
Julian observed everything.
Who got along. Who seemed tense. Which guards kept glancing toward the woods too often. Which ones rested a hand on their sword even while seated. Every detail mattered. If he was going to complete this quest—and survive—it wouldn't be through brute force.
It would be through reading people. Knowing when to act. When to vanish.
"Still awake?" a voice said softly behind him.
Julian turned, instantly alert. It was Lilia.
She approached with her usual quiet confidence, arms folded, her blade still at her hip. Even in the dim light, her violet eyes shimmered with intensity.
"I expected you to be curled up in one of the wagons by now," she said.
"I don't sleep well the night before something important," Julian replied evenly.
Lilia tilted her head. "You consider this important?"
"A mission led by two daughters of the Averill family, targeting a bandit threat large enough to disrupt noble trade? Yes. I'd say it matters."
A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "You're observant. Good. Don't stop."
She stepped closer, close enough that Julian could feel the heat radiating off her. "You're not like the other servants," she said quietly. "Even the awakened ones we've had before. You're smarter. Calculated."
Julian said nothing. He wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a warning.
Lilia didn't wait for a response. "Watch your back. The bandits we're after—they've been a step ahead too many times. We think someone's feeding them information. From the inside."
Julian's eyes narrowed. That lined up with the system's bonus objective:
[Discover the bandits' source of intel.]
"You think it's someone from within this convoy?"
"I don't trust coincidences," she replied simply.
Then she walked past him, her voice dropping as she added, "If you see anything suspicious… report it to me. Not Celeste."
Julian turned slightly. "Why not?"
Lilia paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
"She doesn't believe it yet. I do."
And then she was gone, disappearing into the dark between tents like a blade sliding into its sheath.
Julian stood in silence, thoughts racing. If what Lilia said was true, then this mission wasn't just about fighting bandits.
It was about uncovering a traitor.
And that made everything more dangerous.
Julian stood still for a long time after Lilia vanished, her words echoing in his mind like distant thunder.
A traitor in the convoy…
It wasn't surprising, not really. The bandits had struck with uncanny timing more than once, targeting noble shipments and smaller merchant groups under minimal escort. Coincidence didn't explain that level of precision. Not out here, in a region crawling with awakened mercenaries, patrol routes, and noble alliances.
Someone had been feeding them information.
And now, here he was, in the middle of it.
He looked around the camp again, but this time with different eyes.
Every conversation, every passing glance now carried weight. Suspicion. Possibility. He wasn't just watching soldiers anymore, he was watching suspects.
He moved slowly back toward the supply wagon. His assigned corner was little more than a rolled blanket and a sack to rest against, but that wasn't why he went there.
He crouched beside one of the crates, checked the rope bindings, and loosened a section just enough that it looked untouched to anyone not paying close attention. A mark. A trap.
If someone tried snooping into the weapon crates at night, he'd know.
Julian leaned back, letting out a slow breath as he sat.
This wasn't going to be easy.
He had to complete the mission. That much was obvious. But the optional piece—the one Lilia had unknowingly confirmed—wasn't optional to him. Not anymore. If there really was a traitor, then finding them meant more than Coins or some vague sense of progress.
It meant power.
Not physical power. Influence. Favor. Leverage.
If Lilia was right, and he was the one who uncovered the truth, that put him above any servant. Maybe even above some soldiers. At the very least, it would make her feel indebted to him.
And someone like her—a C-rank awakened with authority, family backing, and dangerous instincts—was the kind of person worth having on your side.
He lay back, folding his arms behind his head, eyes open to the stars above.
The sky was clear. Crisp. The firelight only reached so far, and beyond it, the dark forest loomed like a mouth waiting to close.
Tomorrow, he thought, the mission will begin in earnest. And so will the game.
With that, he slowly closed his eyes and drifted into a sleep.
He didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow but whatever it is, it is not going to be easy.
***
Morning arrived cold and gray.
Mist clung to the forest floor as the sun dragged itself up through the trees. Soldiers moved like shadows at first, quiet and disciplined. There was no shouting, no idle chatter, only the sound of armor being buckled, tents dismantled, and weapons checked.
Julian woke early. He'd slept no more than three hours, but his body was used to light rest and lighter beds.
He immediately checked the crate he had marked.
The rope was untouched.
Good, he thought. No rats last night. The real ones must be waiting for something louder to hide behind.
He joined the morning bustle without prompting, helping stow gear, fill waterskins, and assist a younger guard with packing a broken tent frame. He didn't speak much, but he listened. Listened to every exchange between the soldiers. Every complaint. Every word about patrol shifts or who had what duty.
Patterns mattered. And if someone deviated from the expected pattern…
That would be his first lead.
***
As the convoy resumed its march, Julian once again found himself in the rear wagon, though this time, his eyes scanned more than just the road.
There was a man—a broad-shouldered awakened guard named Toman—who walked with a limp that vanished when no one was looking. Julian had noticed it yesterday, but this morning, it was gone entirely.
A fake injury?
A way to avoid certain assignments? Or maybe… an excuse to disappear from duty during specific hours?
He didn't know yet. But he logged it.
The hours crawled by as the convoy moved deeper into the wilds. The trees thickened, and the road narrowed. Crows circled overhead. And the soldiers grew tense.
Not afraid. Just… alert.
As they passed a shattered wooden cart by the roadside—half-sunk into the mud, long abandoned—Celeste signaled a halt. She dismounted, examined the wreck, and issued a command for a scouting party to split off and sweep the area.
Julian didn't miss the way her gaze swept the tree line three times before she turned back. She was sharp. Tactical.
But she still didn't know there might be a snake in her ranks.
He stepped off the wagon, offering his help to one of the guards lifting a crate back into position. The man grunted a thanks.
And Julian waited.
Because sooner or later, someone would make a mistake.
And when they did, he'd be ready.