Chapter – 14 The Messenger’s Dying Plea

  The fire crackled weakly, struggling against the biting cold. Small embers glowed beneath a makeshift pile of dry twigs and grass, offering little warmth in the vast, frozen wilderness. Kaavi had shielded the fire with his cloak, ensuring it remained discreet—just enough to keep the dying man from succumbing to the cold.

  The soldier stirred; his breath shallow but steady. His body shivered, yet his fingers still clutched the satchel at his waist as if it were a part of him.

  Kaavi studied him in silence.

  The insignia on his armour—a silver wolf’s head on a navy-blue field—was unfamiliar, but the craftsmanship suggested nobility. He wasn’t a common soldier. He was someone trusted, someone important. The soldier stirred, his lips parting as if to speak, but only a dry, ragged breath escaped. Kaavi finally moved closer;

  “He’s on the brink of death.”

  Viktor hesitated. “Should we help him?”

  Kaavi didn't answer immediately. His fingers brushed against the soldier’s pulse—it was weak, but still there. He could leave the man to fate, but something about the insignia and the bloodied parchment clutched in the soldier’s hand made him pause.

  Kaavi reached for his water pouch, tilting it against the man’s cracked lips. The soldier coughed weakly, but some of the water trickled down his throat. It wasn’t much, but it would help

  A few moments passed before the man’s eyes flickered open.

  For a second, his gaze was unfocused, clouded by fever and exhaustion. Then, his breathing hitched, his instincts forcing him upright. He winced, his hand immediately moving to his wounded side.

  Kaavi placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

  Kaavi: “Don’t move. You’re in no shape to fight.”

  The soldier groaned but didn’t resist. His body had already reached its limit.

  Soldier: “Where… am I?”

  Kaavi glanced toward the snowy landscape. “A day’s travel from the northern pass. Your horse made it far before collapsing.”

  The soldier’s expression darkened, grief flickering in his tired eyes. He swallowed hard, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.

  Soldier: “He… he gave everything…”

  Kaavi remained silent. He had seen loyalty like that before—where even a beast knew the weight of its master’s duty.

  The soldier tried to sit up again, but this time, his body wouldn’t obey. Frustration and urgency battled in his gaze.

  Soldier: “I… I have to move… The message…”

  Kaavi reached toward the satchel. “What’s inside?”

  The soldier’s hand shot out, gripping Kaavi’s wrist with surprising strength.

  Soldier: “Don’t…”

  Kaavi didn’t pull away, but his gaze sharpened.

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  Kaavi: “You’re in no condition to deliver it yourself. Either I take it, or it dies with you.”

  The soldier’s fingers trembled. He clenched his jaw, eyes filled with resistance—then hesitation. He wanted to fight, but reality had already beaten him down.

  Finally, his grip loosened.

  Soldier: “I’m Darian Vale of Whitehold… Commander of the northern outpost”

  Whitehold was one of the strongest fortified towns in the northern region, standing as a buffer against border incursions.

  Darian exhaled shakily. “Our base… was ambushed… They came at night… too many to fight.” He clenched his fists, anger flashing in his eyes. “We lost good men…”

  His gaze flickered toward his fallen horse; the sorrow evident.

  Darian: “I failed.”

  Kaavi studied him carefully. “What happened to the attackers?”

  Darian’s jaw tightened. “They didn’t chase me far. They didn’t need to. They knew I wouldn’t make it.”

  Kaavi nodded slightly. If the enemy had let him escape, it meant they were confident the message wouldn’t reach its destination. Which also meant they weren’t afraid of Whitehold’s retaliation.

  This was a dangerous game.

  Darian closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them with renewed determination.

  Darian: “You… You’re a traveller, aren’t you?”

  Kaavi didn’t answer.

  Darian took a slow, ragged breath.

  Darian: “Please. Take the message to Whitehold. The town needs reinforcements… If they don’t get them soon, it’ll fall.”

  Viktor shifted uncomfortably. He looked up at Kaavi, waiting for his response.

  Kaavi remained still. The fire crackled softly, filling the silence between them.

  Taking this message meant getting involved. Meant placing himself in the middle of a brewing war. He had no loyalty to Whitehold, nor to its noble baron. His only concern was getting Viktor north, beyond these troubled lands.

  And yet…

  Darian wasn’t lying. The desperation in his eyes was real. He had endured injuries, frost, and starvation just to get this far. Even now, with his body broken, he still tried to complete his mission.

  Kaavi respected that.

  He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.

  Kaavi: “What’s in it for me?”

  Darian blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

  Darian: “The baron… is a man of honour. He will reward you.”

  Kaavi wasn’t particularly interested in gold or titles, but earning a Favor from someone as powerful as a northern baron could prove useful. Whitehold controlled key trade routes—routes that he and Viktor could use.

  He glanced at Viktor, who was watching him expectantly. The boy never spoke much, but Kaavi could read the quiet hope in his eyes.

  With a quiet sigh, Kaavi reached for the satchel. This time, Darian let him take it. The leather was stiff from the cold, the weight heavier than expected.

  He slung it over his shoulder.

  Kaavi: “I’ll deliver it.”

  Relief flooded Darian’s face, his body sagging against the snow.

  Darian: “Thank you…”

  Kaavi didn’t reply. Instead, he focused on treating Darian’s wounds as best as he could with the limited supplies they had. He wouldn’t last long, but perhaps long enough for Kaavi to figure out what to do next.

  His raven let out a low caw, as if sensing the shifting tides of fate.

  This wasn’t part of the plan.

  But then again, neither was anything else in his life.

  Darian: “My men… they gave their lives to get me out. We were ambushed. Enemy forces… too many.”

  Kaavi remained still, listening. Darian’s words were slipping between painful, laboured breaths.

  A rattling cough overtook him, blood staining his lips. Kaavi’s expression didn’t change, but inwardly, he knew the truth. This man wasn’t going to make it. Even if they had the best healers waiting—he wouldn’t survive the next hour in this freezing cold with a punctured lung.

  Viktor, who had remained silent, finally spoke up, his voice hesitant.

  Viktor: “We can take him to the next village?”

  Kaavi didn’t look at him. Instead, he met Darian’s gaze directly.

  Kaavi: “You know you won’t make it.”

  Darian gave a weak, bitter chuckle.

  Darian: “I do… but I had to try.”

  His body trembled slightly, his strength fading fast. He looked at Kaavi then, as if seeing something in him—something that made him believe his last words wouldn’t be wasted.

  Darian let out a slow, shaky breath, some of the tension leaving his body as if he had been holding on just for that. His gaze drifted upward, toward the sky, where the falling snow blurred into the endless grey.

  Darian: “…We were supposed to go home after this winter.”

  His voice was softer now, almost like a whisper to himself.

  Darian: “They’ll never know what happened, will they?”

  Kaavi didn’t answer.

  Darian: “My wife… my little girl…”

  His breath hitched, and for the first time, the soldier’s hardened expression cracked, just slightly.

  Viktor swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He didn’t know what to say.

  Kaavi let a moment of silence pass before he finally spoke.

  Kaavi: “What’s their name?”

  Darian blinked, his fading eyes shifting to meet Kaavi’s.

  Darian: “…Elara… and Lilia.”

  His voice was barely audible now. His lips parted as if to say something more, but his breath never came. His body stilled, his fingers loosening from his horse’s reins.

  Viktor took a small step back, his face pale. This was the first time he had seen someone die right in front of him like this—so slow, so final.

  Kaavi reached forward, shutting Darian’s eyes with a firm but gentle touch.

  Kaavi: “I’ll remember.”

  For a few moments, nothing but the sound of the wind filled the air. Then, Kaavi stood, turning toward Viktor.

  Kaavi: “Come. We have work to do.”

  Viktor hesitated, glancing back at the fallen commander.

  Viktor: “We’re leaving him here?”

  Kaavi’s expression was unreadable.

  Kaavi: “The dead don’t need our help.”

  Viktor opened his mouth to protest, but something in Kaavi’s tone made him stop. Slowly, he nodded, following as Kaavi stepped away from the frozen battlefield.

  Behind them, the snow continued to fall, covering the man and his horse in a silent, white shroud