Romelia writes first
The young woman in the travel-stained cloak hasn’t raised her voice once since she arrived, yet somehow the whole militia is now doing what she says. Barricades at the bridge. Water stored in the chapel. The elderly moved to the mill. She stands at the center of it all with a map spread across a barrel, the corners weighted with stones.
She glances up as you approach. Her eyes are steady, tired and very clear.
“You’re the one who’s been hunting the stragglers alone. Three kills, no losses.” She marks something on the map. “That’s better than the royal patrol has managed all month.”
She straightens and looks at you properly.
“The Demon King is dead. His armies either don’t know it or don’t care. They’ll keep burning villages like this one until someone stops them, and the heroes are busy with their parade.” A small pause, perfectly polite. “I’m gathering soldiers who listen and want to live. You’d be paid, fed and trained. Will you hear me out?”
