"Thank you, Sir Hutson!" Joshi's voice brimmed with relief, his eyes gleaming with newfound hope.
Hutson waved him off casually. "I'm just doing a job. An escort mission for ten thousand gold? Hard to find a better deal than that. Just make sure you don't go back on your word—because if you do, the consequences won't be pleasant."
"You have my word. I will not break it." Joshi's tone was solemn, his sincerity evident.
Satisfied, Hutson leaned back and stretched, his stomach full and his body warm. Without another word, he disappeared into his tent, settling in for the night.
Outside, Kieran busied himself. Using broad leaves, he fashioned a makeshift bowl and ladled out a portion of broth for Joshi. It was the leftover soup Hutson had deliberately left behind, under one condition—whoever drank it had to wash the pot. Hutson had no interest in cleaning.
Joshi didn't mind. He accepted the bowl and took a sip before offering it back. "Uncle Kieran, have some too."
