Chapter 611: Look Alive, Sow! Thaad Is at Hand

"Our assignment doesn’t concern you, though." Zanya looked down from the roof with an expression that first treated me like an insect that had wandered too close to the toe of her boot.

The dark-red bird tattoo beneath her left ear was clearly visible now that her ponytail had shifted.

Then the hardness in her face softened by a fraction. Maybe she had remembered that I was still useful for driving the wagon.

"Hawthorne already told you; we do not harm civilians... except it’s absolutely necessary."

I now feared, with a cold and specific fear, what counted as "absolutely necessary" in the eyes of the New Testament.

She jumped down, closed her fingers around my wrist, and pulled me firmly back toward the driver’s seat with a strength that left no room for argument or delay.

Once I was seated again and the reins were back in my hands, she continued speaking, her tone instructional, as if she were explaining a simple rule of the road.

"We are looking for a person called Benjamin Mark. Our superiors told us to ’try’ and eliminate them. The wording is deliberate. If we succeed, we will have our rank boosted in the New Testament. Apparently the Old Testament geezers can’t do anything to him directly for political reasons—some treaty or balance of power with King Renard we don’t bother to follow—but he’s considered dangerous enough for them to break their own rules and send us instead.

"Thaad is a nice city, I heard. I would like to visit it properly and unwind for a few days once the work is finished. Rest assured, we are saving your city rather than destroying it. At least that is the intention we were given."

She leapt upward in a clean, effortless somersault and landed on the wagon roof with perfect balance, the slim curved sword already settled back at her hip as if it had never left.

And we continued the journey.

The Scarab Boros settled back into their steady, rolling gait.

The blood-soaked stretch of road fell behind us mile by mile until the smell of it was gone, replaced by the ordinary scents of sun-warmed grass, dry earth, and the warm animal musk of the beasts themselves.

Over the following days I listened more than I spoke. I learned the small, human habits of the group—the way the cat girl’s tail flicked in short, irritated arcs whenever a conversation bored her, the way the quiet girl could sit motionless for hours watching the horizon as if the moving line of hills held some private message, and how the mature one with the heterochromic eyes sometimes hummed a low, wordless tune under her breath when she thought no one was paying close attention.

They argued over trivial things: whose turn it was to refill the water skins, or whether the dried fruit had begun to turn.

They shared food from a common pouch without keeping strict count, and they took turns sleeping in the shade of the canvas while the others kept watch out of habit rather than necessity.

In those ordinary stretches of road and hours of rest they truly seemed like normal girls (and half-girl) on a long trip.

The only differences that remained were the unreal strength that slept under their skin like a second set of muscles and the quiet, collective insistence that one of them was a lady only in the heart and in the careful language the others used around "her."

Six full days of traveling passed, including the hours spent sleeping under open stars or resting the Scarab Boros beside quiet, clear streams where the beasts could drink their fill.

On the afternoon of the sixth day the pale, solid line of Thaad’s outer wall finally rose into view on the far horizon.

It was still distant, a low band against the sky, but clear. The road beneath the wheels grew busier.

Other travelers appeared—single riders, small merchant carts, a column of laborers walking with tools over their shoulders.

The air began to have the faint, complex smell of a living city: smoke, livestock, baking bread, the distant tang of the forges.

In another few hours we would pass through the gates and be inside Thaad proper.

The girls were good people.

They had laughed, argued, shared food, and spoken of unwinding in the city as if the massacre on the road had been only an inconvenient delay.

Yet as the walls grew slowly larger and clearer ahead of us I could not shake the quiet, persistent pity that settled in my chest for whoever this Benjamin Mark person might turn out to be.

Taking on the six of these girls would be too much for almost anyone.

They have my complete sympathy, whoever ends up standing on the opposite side of their assignment.

I had been traveling for over half a month already, navigating the long, open plains of the Wilds with only the Scarab Boros and the creak of the wagon for company during the quieter stretches.

So the usual currents of gossip had not yet reached me on those empty roads.

News of a beautiful woman with striking blue eyes and her mighty amazon girlfriend had simply never arrived.

If even a single reliable whisper had found me before the Apex Girls climbed onto my wagon, I would have been on my knees in the dust the moment they revealed their purpose, begging them to spare her regardless of rank boosts or orders from the New Testament.

Some lives were worth the loss of pride.

The Scarab Boros flicked their armored heads at the increased traffic but kept their steady pace.

I cleared my throat, straightened my back on the driver’s box, and raised my voice in what I sincerely believed was a cheerful, rallying tone meant to mark the occasion.

"Look alive, sows! Thaad is at hand—oof!"

A sharp, precise kick landed squarely against the back of my head.

The force was controlled, measured, and still more than strong enough to make my teeth click together and my vision jump for a full second.

I grabbed the edge of the seat to keep from tipping forward into the reins.

"Who are you calling a sow?!" Zanya’s voice came from directly above me, bright with theatrical outrage.

I did not need to look up to know her hands were on her hips and her ponytail was swinging with the force of the kick.