In just a few days, a run of caravans got hit, like wagons picked clean by crows.

If the escapees stockpiled enough supplies, they could slip beyond Northfort’s rim like dusk shadows.

Once they learned the lay of the land, those who stayed around Northfort would root in like briars, hard to yank out.

After a brisk council, Baili picked a sector, a dark eddy far from the main road.

Reports said the prisoners hiding there weren’t like the butchers striking the highway or the city’s edge, wolves foaming at the mouth.

They took goods and coin, then left, at worst snatching a few for ransom like fish on a line.

Hostages sent back after payment told the tale, their words like cold water on coals.

The bandits in that patch seemed milder, squatters setting up as hill lords near Northfort like crows claiming a pine.

Their chief was a woman, and many underlings were women too, like willow leaves among thorns.

The terrain was knotted and sly, better for a small elite team to slip through like cats.

"The aim is simple: take them alive if we can," came the order, a net before knives.

"Move out," someone called, heartbeats drumming like hooves.

The Holy Maiden’s Guard counted just over sixty, twice the first squad, a banner doubled in the wind.

They answered to Baili and Qianli, both Sixth Rank knight-captains, like twin spears braced together.

Headcount-wise, we were the smallest blade among many forces, a thin knife in a bundle of axes.

In raw steel, we led the pack, a bright edge against dull iron.

Every trooper was Fifth Rank, with three at Sixth Rank, a crane standing among chickens.

"If you wriggle again, I don’t mind using that riding method again," Silver Luan murmured, her words snapping like a whip.

We had just set out when her tail went stiff and her fingers tensed, like frost on grass.

We shared a horse, and Cerqin sat in front, bored and wriggling like a cat.

"Uh…" Cerqin swallowed, a spark catching tinder.

She almost said, "That’s not off the table." But Qianli rode beside us, and the front riders crowded close.

Last time we hadn’t feared being seen; three people, two horses, all our own, like a tented fire.

"Should’ve ridden my own horse, not been lazy…" Cerqin sighed, rain on a window.

She felt the softness at her back and wanted to cry without tears, like a kite caught in a tree.

The target area lay half a day away. No main road ran through, but a small river threaded it like silk.

In the Empire’s north, that made it one of the few green patches, a moss island in stone.

The land broke into stony knolls and ranked boulders, not the usual canyon hideouts like knife-gashes.

We followed the main road to the fringe, wheels humming like bees, though fewer caravans dared leave the city.

Those returning blind, or trying to enter Northfort, drew the short lot, like deer walking into snares.

In half a day, we passed two caravans that had been hit; cargo gutted, but few dead, a thin mercy.

One wagon train had some young men taken. Cerqin guessed our target gang had done it, the hook already set.

In this zone, the bandits were the rare sort who grabbed hostages for ransom, not slaughter, like traders of fear.

After questioning the victims, we split into a dozen small teams, fanning in along the river and guessed nests.

The rescue goal made it messier, like mud on boots, but only a little.

With such a gap in strength, even in pairs, danger felt distant, like thunder over another ridge.

Cerqin and Silver Luan teamed up and sprinted for the mark, wind combing the grass.

Off the road, we couldn’t ride. We leapt along treetops and boulders, bird to bird, stone to stone.

We watched for tracks while we chatted, not hiding our trail at all, like drummers on an open road.

"Funny thing," Cerqin said. "Most people they took were young women. Men were a thin slice, like salt in soup."

"Hm? Is there a problem?" Silver Luan tilted her head, a question like a leaf.

"The bandit chief here is a woman, right? And there are plenty of women in her crew." Cerqin’s eyes glinted like wet slate.

"What are you getting at?" Silver Luan asked, her voice a pebble in a pond.

"Maybe they play for the same team," Cerqin muttered, a grin flickering like foxfire.

"So what are you actually saying?" Silver Luan pressed, straight as a spear.

"I’m saying I didn’t know there were this many of us," Cerqin said, half-laugh, half-sigh, like steam.

In this world, women liking women and men liking men weren’t rare, but still a minority, like lilies in winter.

At least, Cerqin hadn’t run into it this often before, a new pattern in the weave.

"You joined the Radiant Sanctuary. This still surprises you?" Silver Luan’s brow rose like a drawn bow.

"Uh… how do you mean?" Cerqin hopped from a branch to a boulder, heart light as a kite.

"The Sanctuary’s a well-known haven for our crowd, a market square of kindred. Our cases skew that way."

"Right…" Cerqin nodded, a pebble settling in water.

"Also, compared to man-with-man, woman-with-woman is more common, like willow versus oak," Silver Luan added.

"Come to think of it, I met you and Aileaf outside the Sanctuary. Was that luck?" Cerqin asked, wind-soft.

"I think it’s god-blessed drawing god-blessed," Silver Luan joked, laughter like bells.

Rustle, rustle. Cerqin suddenly smelled fear, sharp as iron, and stones clacked nearby like teeth.

"Hm? Someone!" Silver Luan vanished with a whoosh, and Cerqin flashed after her, shadows leaping.

"Don’t kill me! I’m not a bandit!" A ragged girl threw up her hands, terror bright as frost in her eyes.

"Who are you?" Cerqin asked, caution coiled like a spring.

She looked like an escaped hostage. Yet her mana pressed the air at Fourth Rank, a fire under ashes.

With that strength, she should’ve been a caravan guard. It was hard to picture her taken lightly.

Feeling our doubt, the girl stammered, "I’m an adventurer from the capital," a leaf blown north.

"Adventurer?" Silver Luan echoed, a low drum.

"Yeah… I heard strong beasts showed up here, so I tried my luck and hunted rare materials, like panning gold."

"Then what happened?" Cerqin asked, her tone a rope tossed across.

Cerqin tasted no lie in her feelings, clear as spring water, so she gave the words some credit.

"A while ago, I ran into a powerful white steppe wolf. It ambushed me, and I got badly hurt, like meat to claw."

"I aimed for Northfort to heal and resupply, but a bandit pack jumped me again, wolves after crows."

Her voice grew more aggrieved as she spoke, tears pattered like small pearls, and Silver Luan scratched her head.

"That’s rough… Mind if I check your wound?" she asked, palm gentle as dusk.

The girl lifted her torn top and showed a claw gouge, red as a fresh maple leaf.

Silver Luan nodded and eased her guard. Fourth Rank wasn’t weak or strong, a mid-step on the mountain.

Being blindsided by a speed-type white steppe wolf was just bad luck, like slipping on black ice.

Cerqin thought of the little white wolf Qianli had met on that hunt, wondering if it was the same shadow.

The girl then told of her days after capture, a tale to wrench the heart, rain over a cold hearth.

"Didn’t expect her to be one of us," Cerqin thought, pity soft as cotton in her eyes.

The girl’s face held a thread of hate, the loom set for revenge; likely more knots with women ahead.

Silver Luan read it the same and thought of herself, and of that beloved outfit torn like silk.

She shot Cerqin a sharp side-eye, a knife flick, then told the unlucky girl, "Good timing. Lead us in."

"We’re here to arrest these bandits," she said, voice steady as a drawn blade.