Arlowe looks them over, doing some heavy contemplation. He's a ruggedly handsome man with brown hair and a chiseled smile. "Hmmmm. Very well. I sense truth in your words. But even so, I wouldn't feel right letting you go alone," he says. "Lenfrey. Go with them."

"As you wish, my lord," the servant says. He's a gaunt man with blond hair and a green tunic.

"Lenfrey here's a fine archer. He can drop a buck from a mile away," Arlowe says.

"Hold it a second," Flora says. "With due respect, this isn't going to be a leisurely hunting trip. These are outlaws we're talking about, here. Your life could be on the line."

"I'll be fine. Trust me, I've killed worse than bucks in my time," Lenfrey says.

"What about you, Millie?" Flora asks. "We know you're skilled in magic, but this will be dangerous. Do you wish to stay behind?"

"No. I'll come along. I have healing spells, and we may need them where we're going," Millie says.

"Their hideout is located on the north face of the mountain. Good luck," Arlowe says, giving Lydia a cheesy smile. "And please...come back alive. A woman of your beauty must never die," he says. Lydia reacts with stoicism, the group turning and leaving the room.

When they're gone, Arlowe is left alone in his throne room. "...A woman of your beauty must never die. A woman of your beauty must never die... Ugh. Idiot," he mumbles to himself.

Back outside, Flora and company leave the large castle. Lenfrey tags along, armed with a shortbow and tanned leather garb. The four pass through the courtyard, eyeing what's left of the fallen guards. "Grrr. Damn those bandits. Don't worry, brothers...your deaths shall be avenged tenfold!" Lenfrey says. The others stay awkwardly silent, sharing a look of perfect unease.

The foursome leave the town, heading west along a winding dirt path. They pass sporadic trees, the mountain looming off in the distance. There aren't many mountains around, and this one, called "Old Fox Mountain", sticks out like a sore thumb. Eventually, the group reaches the bottom. They eye a fork in the road, both of them leading up into the mountain.

"Great. Which way do we go now?" Flora asks.

"Well, the count said that the base is on the north side of the mountain. If the mountain is west of town, logic dictates that we take the path on the right," Millie says. "However, these paths twist and turn a lot. It's possible that the right path isn't the right choice."

"Some of our men have braved this mountain before, but none have ever returned. I couldn't say yay or nay as to which way to go," Lenfrey says.

"I vote that we split up," Lydia says, eyeing the mountain's peak.

"What? Are you crazy, Lyd?" Flora asks.

"This is a dangerous task! We have to stick together!" Millie says.

"Don't worry. You three take the path on the left. I'll head up the right. We'll cover more ground that way, and I can move faster alone," Lydia says.

"Lydia...I don't know about this," Flora says.

Lydia smiles. "You worry too much, Flo. It's bad for your health. You'll get wrinkles before your time."

Flora gives a cringe. "I will not!"

"I'm going," Lydia says, turning to the right.

"Good luck. Be careful up there," Lenfrey says.

"You guys be careful, too. They may be bandits, but don't underestimate them. This mountain could have traps," Lydia says. The assassin takes off, bolting up the right path with blinding speed.

The others take the left, heading up the winding trail. The rocks and dirt are gray, the terrain rough and jagged throughout. Occasional dead trees stand near the trail, leaning perilously over the path. The road goes on for ages, creeping up and around the mountain.

"...Damn. This mountain is bigger than it looks," Flora says.

"Indeed. It already seems like we've been walking for an hour," Lenfrey says.

"I wonder how Lydia's faring?" Millie asks.

"Don't worry. She'll be fine. That girl loves danger. In fact, she thrives in it," Flora says.

"Lord Arlowe has taken a shine to her," Lenfrey says zestfully. "Odd, considering that he tends to like foreign women."

"That makes sense. After all, Lydia is half Zetzeran," Flora says. "Her mother is from Isenfeld, but her father hails from the eastern continent of Zetzer."

"She's lucky. The count is rich, and they're both young and of prime marrying age. It wouldn't be a bad life to be the bride of a noble lord," Lenfrey says.

Flora gives a smile. "...Please. Lydia would never go for that. She could never settle down to a normal life. Not her."

"Humm. 'Tis a shame. Lord Arlowe is a bachelor with no heirs. If god forbid he dies, the Seville family name dies with him," Lenfrey says.