Previously, both men had been on guard because of Nimue. This time, hearing their names coming from an old lady's mouth that they had never met, Armand and Flint were extremely wary.
"..how do you know who we are?" Flint asked suspiciously.
The old woman, who they assumed was 'Anya' or 'Mother' who ran Dohara's underground, only chuckled.
"Someone told me that you will be paying us a visit."
Armand and Flint were flabbergasted; they had dealt with their shares of spies and secret networks, but the decision to meet Anya was not done pre-emptively.
"Darryl."
Hearing his name, the clever-looking boy stood up straighter. "Y-yes, Anya?"
"Good job bringing them in. I hope no one was hurt in the process?"
"N-no, Anya. Just some bruises here and there as I can see."
Anya nodded in satisfaction. "Our holy knight is very kind."
Armand studied the old woman who was rocking gently in front of him. She seemed like your ordinary woman in her twilight year, wearing comfortable linen tunic and a long skirt with floral patterns. But after being on many subjugation missions fighting those mutated monsters, he had learned never to judge something based on its skin. He slowly put his hand on the sword's hilt.
"Are you...a wraith?"
A wraith was an intelligent, mutated monster that often took the form of a deceased human to deceive and predate on them. However, from his vast experience, he could not recount a wraith with an ability of foresight.
The old woman laughed. "Do I look like a wraith to you, boy? Don't they like beautiful men and women the best? No, no, I simply had the most honorable acquaintance who informed me of your arrival."
"Who.."
"But that is not important." Anya cut him off gently. "The more important thing is, you're looking for something, yes? Or more precisely, someone."
"...it seems that you already know everything." While his suspicion only grew, Armand could not help but wanting to see how much the old lady knew about his mission.
Anya only smiled serenely. "Unfortunately, I don't know everything. But I know someone who might be able to help." She turned towards Darryl. "Child, take them to 'Mizan'. You know where to go."
"Ah... yes, Anya!"
"What? Where..." Flint started to speak, but Anya suddenly stood up and took his hands, startling him. As a platinum-level mercenary, he had considerable strength and agility - in no usual circumstance would an old woman be able to make a direct contact without his permission.
He also found her grip concerningly iron-clad. Her piercing eyes stared into Flint's unflinchingly. "And you, Sir, had great innate strength in you, but also a prominent curse. If I were you, I would immediately act on it."
Flint found himself involuntarily shivered. "You...how do you know about that?"
Anya released her grip and smiled, but did not answer.
Neither of the men knew how to overcome this situation. On one hand, there was no immediate threat to their life; on the other hand, the situation was so surreal that they became overwhelmed with a sense of uncanniness. They watched as Anya sank back onto her seat and continued her crocheting calmly. After a minute or two, she looked up and, seemingly surprised they were still there, waved her hand.
"What are you waiting for? Off you go!"
Darryl immediately bowed his head and walked towards the same door they entered, which Nimue opened. Unable to figure out anything else they could do, Armand and Flint followed him. However, when they stepped over the threshold of the door, it was not the same dark passageway they came from - instead, they were outside.
Flint gaped at the sun that was setting, with red and yellow hues illuminating the sky. He turned around, but behind them there was only a shabby door leading to what looked like a normal merchant's house. His head spun as he understood it was high-level illusion magic. He glanced at Armand.
"...looks like we met a very interesting character." he mumbled.
"...indeed."
Darryl glanced at both men nervously. "Um, Mizan was not far from here, but it would still take half a day by horse. Do you want to rest in town and set off tomorrow?"
Armand looked at the boy, who was clasping his hand in nervousness. "..Is Mizan a person, or a place?"
"Ah, it's both."
"What?"
"The shop is called Mizan, and the shopkeeper is referred to as 'Mizan' too. I-I don't know her real name!"
"Ah, I see." He smiled at the boy. "Thanks, Darryl."
Darryl's face blushed. "It's nothing! It's Anya's request, after all."
Armand nodded. "Unfortunately, we're in a bit of a hurry. Would you be able to get us two of the fastest horses in the area, Darryl? You can take the change." He fished a leather purse from his pocket, reached inside, and dropped four gold coins onto Darryl's palm. Darryl's eyes went big.
"Are you sure?? One gold coin is more than sufficient for a horse!"
Armand smiled again. "Yes, now, hurry."
"Yes sir!"
Flint looked at the boy who took off speedily. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow? If it's half a day by horse, it's likely to be outside of the city wall. We'll be vulnerable against bandits and even monsters."
"We'll take the chance. I think both of us can manage. And... it's not like you have time to spare, either."
Flint fell silent as his travel companion was right.
Not too long after, Darryl came back with a ragged breath, holding the reins of two tall, well-groomed horses. Armand nodded to himself. He was indeed a clever boy.
"Here you go..!"
"Good job, Darryl. Now, up you go!" Armand lifted him and mounted the horse himself. Beside him, Flint did the same. "Now, where to?"
"Ah, we need to go to the south gate of the city wall before it closes!"
"As you wish."
Galloping through the streets, they made their way towards Mizan.