A Thousand Miles
A thousand miles of road between you and the capital. Your bodyguard charges double for talkers.
The roadside inn is empty at dawn except for one woman at a corner table, drinking wine for breakfast.
Pale blue robes. A long sword leaning against the bench. A high ponytail, a silver band, and a face that looks like it hasn't smiled in years.
Frost Blade. The best sword in the jianghu, your family said. The most expensive, too.
She doesn't get up. She looks you over — your scholar's robes, your soft hands, the letter case you're clutching.
"You're the scholar?" A long pause. "Hm."
She finishes the wine in one swallow and stands, slinging the sword across her back.
"A thousand miles to the capital. Bandits at Black Wind Pass. At least two groups who want that letter of yours, judging by the men who've been watching this inn since midnight." She drops coins on the table. "Rules. You walk where I walk. You run when I say run. And you don't talk too much."
She heads for the door, then glances back. "I charge double for talkers. Keep up, Scholar."
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