Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess

Author's Note:

This is a LegoRomance (slow-burn)

ActI

Undoing The Quest

Chapter 84: A Pact of Coins

City of the Corsairs, December 5th 3018 T.A

The familiar sights and sounds of Umbar enveloped Xena as she stepped off the ship and into the narrow, winding streets of the City of Corsairs. Though it had been less than a year since she'd left, something felt different—darker, more dangerous. She pulled her hood low, her eyes scanning the streets with quiet caution. Umbar had always thrived on danger, but now it felt like that danger had taken on a new, more sinister edge. There was an undercurrent of fear and tension, and as she moved through the crowds, Xena saw signs of Sauron's influence everywhere: banners bearing the dark eye, men in the black and red armor of Harad, and strangers with cold, piercing gazes.

Guiding Chubby carefully through the crowd, she kept her head down, her movements cautious. Some faces she recognized nodded in passing—a slight acknowledgment of her presence, a quick glance that revealed understanding. She had no friends here, nor enemies who would draw a blade at the sight of her, but she knew her neutrality in this city was fleeting. Today, she had business that would likely change that balance.

After settling Chubby in a stable she trusted, the one place she could leave him with some peace of mind, Xena set her path toward the dimly lit tavern where she knew Darian would be. Darian was no ordinary broker; he was the shadow that dealt in secrets, the web that held together Umbar's most dangerous contracts. He was wiry and shrewd, his eyes always calculating, his lips quick to twist into a smirk. If there was anyone who could shed light on her mission, it was him.

As she entered the tavern, she spotted him immediately, lounging at a corner table, a goblet of dark ale in his hand. Their eyes met across the room, and his expression flickered with surprise. She saw his thin eyebrows rise, then his mouth stretched into a knowing smile as she pulled her hood down, revealing her face.

"Xena," he drawled as she crossed the room, taking a seat opposite him. "Of all the places… and of all the people." He gave her an appraising look, tilting his head. "I didn't expect to see you back in this city."

Without a word, she reached into her pouch, pulling out a small leather sack filled with gold coins and tossed it onto the table between them. "It's missing a few," she said, her tone even, "but I intend to pay you back in full. I'm here to end the contract."

Darian picked up the pouch, weighing it in his hand, his eyes narrowing as he counted the weight. After a moment, he tossed it back toward her with a casual flick of his wrist, the gold landing in front of her with a soft jingle. "Keep it," he said, a mocking grin creeping over his face. "Once you've taken a job for Alakar, there's no turning it down. I told him months ago that you'd gone soft, that you'd abandoned the mission. I even let Sauron's men know you weren't reliable."

Xena's eyes narrowed, her voice low and dangerous. "And did Alakar take kindly to that news?"

Darian shrugged, unbothered. "He's found other ways to get what he wants. The Prince of Mirkwood may still be breathing, but Alakar's interests have grown beyond that now." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Your little rebellion against the contract means nothing to him. But if you cross his path again… well, don't expect him to be as forgiving as I am."

Xena folded her arms, leaning in. "You mentioned 'other ways' of getting to him. What does that mean?"

Darian gave a chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm no snitch, Xena. And I don't make my business asking questions that might bring trouble. All I know is that there are new players in the game—people with a lot more power and ambition than you or me."

She studied him, her mind racing with possibilities. But Darian's casual smirk faded slightly as he continued, his voice lowering. "I'll tell you this much: if you're in the business of digging up dirt on Alakar, you'll want to tread carefully. He's got powerful allies. One in particular—Khafir al-Rahûn."

At the name, Xena raised an eyebrow. "Khafir al-Rahûn?"

Darian poured her a mug of ale, sliding it across the table with a sardonic grin. "Consider this information on the house. I enjoy seeing the look of surprise on your face, Xena." He leaned in closer, his voice almost a whisper. "Khafir al-Rahûn—he's no ordinary warlord. They call him the Shadow Warlord of Harad. Commands a legion of Haradrim warriors, and I'm not talking about rabble. His men are skilled in desert warfare, archery, and the handling of mûmakil."

Xena took a slow sip of the ale, listening intently.

Darian continued, his eyes gleaming with something between fascination and dread. "Khafir is… different. He's ambitious, a tactician. Sauron values him highly, especially because Khafir's loyalty isn't just out of fear—it's mixed with his own vision of power. He's a born leader, and his men follow him without question. Lately, he's been spotted in Umbar more often, which tells me one thing: whatever Alakar is planning, it's big, and Khafir's got his hand in it."

Xena set the mug down, absorbing the information. "And what is he planning?"

Darian snorted, shaking his head. "Do I look like a spy to you, Xena? I'm a broker, not a fool. I don't pry into the affairs of those who could slice my throat in the blink of an eye. But if Khafir is here, stirring things up, then you can bet that more from Harad and Umbar are flocking to Sauron's banner. It started slow—one or two men here and there—but now…" He leaned in, his voice barely a murmur. "Now it's an army. And you felt it the moment you walked off that ship."

Xena nodded slowly, her expression grim. She had sensed the gathering darkness in the city, but hearing it confirmed made it all the more real. Darian sat back, a trace of genuine concern on his face for the first time in their conversation.

"I'll say this, Xena: Khafir isn't someone you want to cross paths with. The man is like a snake—quiet, deadly, and always watching. If you're thinking of getting involved in whatever Alakar has cooking, you might as well slit your own throat now."

Xena's gaze hardened, her lips curling into a small, defiant smile. "Thanks for the warning, Darian. But if I were afraid of snakes, I wouldn't have come back to Umbar in the first place."

Darian laughed, though there was a note of unease in his tone. "Some things never change. But heed my words, Xena. If Khafir finds you meddling, he won't care if you're an old acquaintance or not. Sauron's influence has changed him, and not for the better."

Xena took one last swig of the ale, setting the mug down with finality. "Good to know. But I've faced worse." She stood, adjusting her cloak. "If Alakar has a new plan and Khafir's involved, then it's something I need to see through. And I'll pay whatever price that requires."

Darian shook his head, watching her with a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration. "Then I suppose I should wish you luck, though it might be the last time we share a drink."

Xena gave him a nod, a look of fierce determination in her eyes. "Goodbye, Darian. And keep your ears open. Something tells me this city will have plenty of news for you soon."

As she walked away, leaving Darian behind in the dim tavern, she felt the weight of her purpose settle over her. The streets of Umbar held dangers she'd left behind long ago, but now they had taken on new dimensions. With Khafir al-Rahûn, the Shadow Warlord of Harad, and the shadow of Sauron looming, she was about to dive deeper into a web of peril than she had ever known. But Xena's resolve was ironclad. She was here for answers—and for redemption. And no shadow in Umbar, or beyond, would deter her from that path.

Xena kept the pouch of gold close, her fingers brushing over its worn leather surface as she walked through the dim streets of Umbar. If she couldn't undo the quest, she'd use the gold to aid her in whatever lay ahead. Her thoughts lingered on the name Darian had given her: Khafir al-Rahûn. She didn't recognize it. When she'd traveled through Harad, she'd known most of the prominent warlords and leaders by name, but this one was either new or had risen quickly in her absence. Whoever he was, he was gaining influence—and fast.

Pulling her hood lower, she made her way to a familiar inn, a place she had stayed often when she lived in Umbar. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at her appearance, but after a few coins changed hands, she was given a room for the night. She stashed her belongings there, leaving the bulk of her gear behind, then slipped back out into the night and returned to an old haunt: a tavern known for its questionable patrons and even more questionable alliances.

She slipped into a corner booth, ordering a small meal and a mug of ale, her gaze drifting around the room, noting faces both new and familiar. She used to work here, a lifetime ago, and a few of the regulars still recognized her, nodding subtly as they passed. But she wasn't here for pleasantries—she was waiting. And as expected, Malik walked in later that night, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on her.

With a smirk, he ordered his own drink and strolled over, taking the seat across from her. He leaned back, trying for a casual charm. "Well, well, Xena. I should have known you'd be waiting for me."

Without missing a beat, she replied, "I am waiting for you, Malik."

He raised his eyebrows, slightly taken aback by her bluntness. "Straight to business, then?" he asked, his voice low and amused. "So tell me, what is it you need, Xena? Last I checked, you were not the type to seek favors."

She leaned in, her eyes hard. "I need to know everything you can tell me about Khafir al-Rahûn," she said evenly. "And don't lie. I've seen you traveling a lot more than usual. You know something about the new forces in Harad."

Malik's face flickered with surprise, but he quickly recovered, his mouth curving into a sly smile. "Khafir, hmm?" He took a slow sip of his ale, savoring the taste before answering. "Of course, I know who he is. Khafir al-Rahûn is… let's just say, he's the new power in Harad. He's shown up in Umbar recently, looking for spies, mercenaries—the kind of men who have no loyalty but to coin." Malik leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "He was born into one of the ruling families of Harad, a son of desert chieftains who've known nothing but the endless cycle of war and hunger. But beyond that, no one really knows where he came from or what brought him so close to Sauron's circle."

Xena's patience wore thin. She interrupted him with a sharp look. "I don't care about his life story, Malik. I just need to find him. Where is he now?"

Malik shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. "Well, now that's the real question, isn't it?" he replied smoothly. "His base is in Harad, but where exactly? That's beyond me."

Xena's eyes narrowed. She wasn't in the mood for games. Reaching into the pouch, she pulled out a gold coin and flicked it across the table. Malik's hand shot out, catching it mid-air. He raised it to the dim light, inspecting it with a satisfied grin.

"I want to know by tomorrow morning," she said coolly. "If you can tell me where I can find him, the coin's yours."

Malik smirked, slipping the coin into his pocket. "I would have done it for less, but you know I never turn down good gold," he said, winking. "I'll find you your information. Let's say… by noon?"

Xena gave him one last long look, her face unreadable, then downed the last sip of her ale. "Noon," she agreed, rising from the table. She left without another word, her cloak brushing against the wooden floor as she headed for the stairs to her room.

Malik watched her go, an amused glint in his eyes, but there was also a shadow of thoughtfulness as he tapped his fingers against the table. Xena's presence here was unexpected, and her determination was clear. He had no doubt she was serious about finding Khafir al-Rahûn. As he nursed his drink, he considered the gold coin in his hand and the weight of the information he held, knowing that by tomorrow, he would give her exactly what she wanted—though what she did with it was entirely her own gamble.

Back in her room, Xena locked the door behind her and sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. Khafir al-Rahûn was not a name that had meaning to her before, but tonight, it carried weight—weight that she couldn't ignore. She knew tomorrow would bring answers, and she would need every ounce of strength and wit to face them.

Xena had known from the moment she handed over that gold coin to Malik that someone might take notice. She'd caught glimpses of a few greedy gazes lingering on her pouch, watching her every move. So when she returned to her room that night, she made a point of locking the door and bolting the window. For good measure, she took her small pack of belongings and hid it behind a loose floorboard under the bed, stashing the gold pouch securely beneath it.

Then, with a wry grin, she set up a little surprise for anyone foolish enough to try their luck. She took a pillow, fluffing it, and positioned it under the bedcovers to resemble a sleeping form, then positioned herself in the shadows of the room, leaning against the wall with her chakram and sword close at hand. She knew it wouldn't be long before someone made their move.

Sure enough, not more than an hour later, she heard the faint scrape of a blade outside her window, followed by a hushed murmur of voices. "She's asleep," one voice whispered. "Let's keep it quiet and get the pouch."

The window creaked open, and three men slid inside, their shadows stretched across the floor as they crept toward the bed. One of them—a tall, wiry figure with a scar running down his cheek—gave a smug nod toward his companions, evidently the ringleader of the little operation.

"Easy money," he muttered with a grin, his eyes glinting with greed as he gestured for the others to approach.

Another one, shorter and stockier, brandished a small knife, tiptoeing toward the bed with exaggerated stealth, his boots scuffing softly against the floorboards. "Think she's really asleep?" he whispered, eyeing the lump under the covers.

"Of course," Scarface hissed, rolling his eyes. "Just grab the pouch, and let's be off."

As they drew closer, Xena smirked in the shadows, watching them with amusement. She waited until they were almost within arm's reach of the bed before making her move. In one swift, silent motion, she stepped out from her hiding place, her chakram glinting in her hand.

"Looking for something?" she asked, her voice low and deadly calm.

The men froze, heads whipping toward her, eyes wide with shock. For a moment, they simply stared, their expressions ranging from stunned disbelief to outright terror.

"Wait—she's not—" the stocky one stammered, his voice breaking in panic.

Xena didn't give him a chance to finish. With a flick of her wrist, her chakram spun through the air, slicing past them in a tight arc. They ducked instinctively, the blade whistling just inches above their heads before it embedded itself in the wall behind them.

They scrambled backward, bumping into each other in their haste, and the tall one tripped over the stocky man's foot, crashing onto the bed, which promptly collapsed under his weight with a loud crack. The pillow burst out from under the covers, feathers flying everywhere, creating a scene of utter chaos as they flailed amidst the flurry of white.

Xena advanced, her expression both amused and menacing. "You've got two choices," she said, drawing her sword with a menacing scrape of metal. "Either you leave now, or I make you regret ever setting foot in here."

The third man, who had been hanging back by the window, took one look at her and made his decision with admirable speed, scrambling out the way he'd come, muttering curses under his breath. But Scarface, clearly too proud to leave empty-handed, lunged toward her with a dagger.

"Oh, you want to play?" Xena's voice held a dangerous lilt. She sidestepped him effortlessly, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the dagger clattered to the floor. With a smooth motion, she slammed him down onto the bed, pinning him with her knee.

"Think again," she whispered, leaning close enough that he could see the steely glint in her eyes.

The stocky one, seeing his comrade subdued, held up his hands, backing toward the door with a desperate, nervous laugh. "We—we didn't mean anything by it, lady! Just… a little misunderstanding, yeah?"

"Sure," Xena replied with a dry smile. "Now take your friend and get out."

She released Scarface, who scrambled off the bed, clutching his wrist with a grimace. The two men practically tripped over each other in their haste to escape, stumbling out the door and vanishing down the hallway. Xena retrieved her chakram from the wall, brushing a stray feather from her shoulder as she examined the damage with a bemused shake of her head.

With the room finally quiet, she checked her hidden pouch to confirm the gold was untouched. Satisfied, she returned to her post, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. If nothing else, she'd given the would-be thieves a lesson they wouldn't soon forget.

As she settled in for the night, she couldn't help but chuckle softly. Some things in Umbar never changed—there was always someone willing to risk their life for a bit of gold. But after tonight, she was fairly certain her reputation as someone not to be trifled with was back in full force.

Malik knew where to search for information, and by morning, he had discovered far more than he'd anticipated. Khafir al-Rahûn was indeed amassing an army, but this wasn't just any ragtag group. It was a disciplined force, made up of the fiercest men from Harad and a scattering of Umbar—soldiers, mercenaries, killers, all hardened by the desert and bound to Khafir through his ruthless charisma. They trained with a rigor rarely seen outside the elite warriors of Middle-earth. Though the influence of Sauron was present, this army followed Khafir directly, as if he were its sovereign. The base was set near where the River Harnen met the Harad Road, a strategic spot to monitor movements between the South and the West. It was twelve days' journey away, deep into hostile lands, and getting anywhere close would be a challenge.

When Malik entered the tavern just before noon, he found Xena waiting for him in the same corner booth, her expression cool but expectant. Malik didn't bother with pleasantries, sliding into the seat across from her and leaning in.

"I found him," he said without delay. "Or, rather, I found where you can find him—at least for now. Khafir's set up near the Harnen, where it meets the Harad Road. It's a smart location; any traffic between Harad and the West would be visible to him. He's gathering men and training them hard. And not just any men—only the kind who thrive on blood and sand."

Xena arched a brow, taking in this information with a skeptical look. "An army, then," she murmured. "Not just another band of mercenaries."

Malik nodded. "That's right. These aren't just Sauron's creatures either; Khafir's built something of his own. The men follow him—loyal to him more than to the Dark Lord. They're his soldiers, and they'd sooner slit their throats than turn on him. And there are no orcs, no trolls. Just humans, disciplined, and trained like nothing you've seen."

Xena's eyes narrowed as she considered the risk. "It won't be an easy journey," she said thoughtfully, "and getting close to Khafir without drawing attention will be even harder. If he's training an army, I can't simply stroll in and ask for a meeting."

Malik gave her a thin smile. "No, you'd be dead before you even crossed the outer encampments. You're good, Xena, but not even you could take on an entire legion."

She returned his smile with a cool one of her own. "Then I'll need a different plan. I could go in posing as someone looking to join, blend in with the new recruits. But if I go in alone, that'll only draw more suspicion. Khafir's men are smart—they'll see through that in an instant."

Malik leaned back, studying her, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "So, what are you saying? That you want my help?" He made a mock gesture of surprise. "The great Xena, needing me?"

She ignored his sarcasm, her tone businesslike. "I need men who can follow orders and act the part. I'll pay five gold coins to each man who joins me, provided they don't make a mess of it. You'll find me enough for a small group to back me up—men who look the part of hardened mercenaries."

Malik's eyes widened briefly at the mention of five gold coins per man. He let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "That's a lot of gold, Xena. Enough to tempt even the laziest drunk in this city to risk his life for a day or two. But… Khafir's men are no ordinary force. Getting in might be easy enough with the right people, but if any of my men get sloppy…" He let his words trail off, giving her a meaningful look.

Xena's gaze didn't waver. "That's why I'm coming to you, Malik. I know you've got contacts—men who've been around enough to follow orders without asking too many questions. Criminals or not, I need them to look like they belong."

Malik tilted his head, considering her proposal. "And what if they decide it's not worth the coin, hmm? This isn't just a raid or a smuggling run, Xena. You're asking me to send my men into Khafir al-Rahûn's camp, right under his nose. Even I wouldn't be stupid enough to mess with him directly."

Xena folded her arms, leaning in, her voice cool but firm. "Five gold coins each, Malik. And I know you have enough influence to convince them. Besides, your men have done worse for less. I need reliable men, and I'll pay the price."

He looked at her, skepticism and calculation warring in his eyes. "You really think this will work? That you'll just walk in and get close enough to talk to him?"

"I'll make it work," she replied without hesitation. "And I'm not asking for loyalty—just their ability to act. Once I'm in, I'll find a way to reach Khafir. I'm sure of it."

Malik let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. "You've always been one to tempt fate," he muttered. "But alright. I'll speak to a few of my contacts, see if any of them have the nerve to go through with this. I'll need to tell them the risk, but for five coins, I'm sure a few will bite."

Xena's gaze was unwavering, her eyes locked onto his. "You have until morning. If your men agree, we leave at dawn. I don't want any surprises."

Malik chuckled, shaking his head in reluctant admiration. "Still as ruthless as ever, Xena. Fine, I'll see what I can do. By dawn, I'll have your answer."

Satisfied her gaze lingered on Malik. "Just make sure you choose men who know how to keep their mouths shut," she warned. "This isn't a mission for amateurs."

Malik gave her a lazy salute. "You know I don't work with amateurs," he replied with a smirk. "I'll find the best I've got—and trust me, you won't regret it."

She gave him a final nod, pushing back from the table and heading for the stairs. As she walked away, Malik's gaze followed her, a flicker of respect in his eyes. He watched her ascend the stairs, then shook his head, muttering to himself, "The things people will do for a bit of gold… or maybe just to tempt death."

The next morning would reveal who had the courage—or recklessness—to follow her into the den of Khafir al-Rahûn's forces. And with her plan in motion, Xena would be one step closer to finding the answers she sought.

Later that evening, Xena made her way to the stable to check on Chubby. She found him munching contentedly on hay, his dark eyes brightening at the sight of her. She gave him an affectionate pat, running her hand along his mane as she murmured softly to him about the journey ahead. "We'll be riding into dangerous lands soon, old friend," she said, her voice steady but gentle. Chubby nudged her shoulder, as if to reassure her that he was as ready and fearless as she was, a steadfast partner even in the most perilous of paths.

She lingered with him a while longer, feeding him a few treats she'd brought and talking in a low voice. Chubby's familiar presence was a comfort, and he seemed to sense her thoughts, his calm steadiness grounding her. At last, she gave him a final pat, promising they'd set off together at dawn, and returned to the inn.

Inside, she ordered a modest meal, sitting alone in a quiet corner as she ate, her mind racing with plans. Tomorrow would be a pivotal day, the beginning of a new and dangerous chapter. The quest to kill Legolas was, as Darian had said, a thing of the past. But she knew Alakar hadn't given up; he had found another way to pursue his goal. Her mission now was to discover what that was. The trail led to Khafir al-Rahûn, a man who could have the answers she sought—if she could get close enough to him.

Xena knew that gaining Khafir's trust would mean playing a part, slipping into the guise of an ally to Sauron's cause. It was a role she'd played before, in both her darkest days and those that followed. She would need to walk a thin line, rekindling an old part of herself she often preferred to forget. Yet, if she had to tap into the remnants of her shadowed past to find the truth, she would do so willingly. It was a game she knew well, and she steeled herself for what lay ahead.

As she lay down to sleep, her mind wandered to Legolas. It had been days since she'd seen him, yet his presence lingered in her thoughts, a quiet ache she didn't allow herself to dwell on too long. She wondered how he was, hoping he was safe and well. Though she had no way of knowing, some instinct whispered to her that he was alright, a reassurance from deep within her that gave her a measure of peace.

With thoughts of Alakar, Khafir, and Legolas weaving through her mind, she drifted into a restless sleep, the path ahead stretching before her like a road cloaked in shadow and promise. Tomorrow, she would step onto that road, embracing the part of herself that was unafraid to confront darkness—and all that it would demand.

At dawn, Xena finished packing her gear and made her way downstairs, leaving a few silver coins for the innkeeper along with a note that he 'might need new pillows'. She went to the stable, where she paid for Chubby's stay, giving the stablehand a nod of gratitude before leading her horse out. The morning was quiet, the streets of Umbar still shrouded in mist as she guided Chubby toward the meeting place: the tavern where she and Malik had first spoken of the plan.

Malik was there, waiting with four men, as promised. The first was a burly figure with a voice like gravel, who introduced himself with a rough nod. "Azar," he said simply. Xena recognized him immediately; Azar was not only a trusted ally of Malik but one of the original contacts who had brought her news of the quest involving Legolas. Azar was loyal to Malik and was here not only to do the job but to ensure Malik's interests were protected.

The second man, to Xena's surprise, was Scarface—the same man who'd attempted to rob her in her room the previous night. His eyes darted around, trying to avoid her gaze, but Xena wasn't about to let him off so easily. She arched an eyebrow and addressed him directly.

"Try anything like that again," she said calmly, "and you'll be wishing you'd stayed in that hallway."

Scarface chuckled nervously, his bravado cracking slightly under her stare. "No hard feelings, yeah? Just… a bit of a misunderstanding."

Xena didn't bother responding, and the message was clear enough: there would be no more misunderstandings.

The last two men were unfamiliar to her. One was a wiry, dark-haired man with a scar across his chin and piercing green eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He introduced himself as 'Halid', his voice low and clipped, giving away little emotion. The final man was 'Rafiq', tall and lean, with a hawkish nose and hands that moved constantly as if he were always prepared for a fight. His gaze was sharp, and he looked Xena over with a mixture of respect and wariness.

Once the introductions were complete, Xena spoke up, her tone serious. "Let's get one thing straight. I know this isn't about loyalty for any of you, and I wouldn't expect it to be. We're riding together because there's a job to be done, and if any of you make it more difficult, you won't find your pay worth the trouble."

She met each man's gaze in turn before continuing. "I'm offering three gold coins to each of you now, and two more when the job is done. You'll get the rest only if you do exactly what's asked and don't complicate things."

Malik stepped forward, nodding to the others, then looked at Xena. "Understood," he said, his tone businesslike. "But I'll be clear, too—these men aren't here to follow orders blindly. We'll ride with you, but we're not fodder for any schemes you might have, Xena."

Xena gave a faint, almost amused smile. "I wouldn't expect you to be. As long as we're clear, we won't have any issues."

She pulled out her map, spreading it over a nearby barrel to give them all a view. She traced a path with her finger. "We'll leave Umbar and head east along the River Harnen, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Our goal is to reach where the Harnen meets the Harad Road, just beyond the borderlands of Gondor and into the territories where Sauron's influence is growing."

Azar grunted, nodding in agreement. "The Harad Road's no easy path," he said, glancing at the others. "Orcs, men loyal to Sauron, and who knows what else. We'll need to be sharp and keep our pace fast."

Halid looked down at the map, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "A fast pace, through orc territory. Could be suicide. But I've made worse rides." He met Xena's gaze with a hint of a smile. "Count me in."

Rafiq, ever watchful, crossed his arms, glancing between Xena and Malik. "And what exactly happens when we reach Khafir's camp? We just walk in and hope he doesn't skewer us?"

Xena's smile was humorless. "That's where the real work begins. Our story is that we're here to join him. Khafir is building an army, and he's looking for men skilled in the ways of battle. I don't expect trust, but I do expect you all to act like the mercenaries you are—hungry for gold and a bit of bloodshed. Play the part, and we'll get close enough for me to find out what I need."

Scarface, emboldened by the company, snorted. "And what if he doesn't buy it?"

Xena's gaze hardened. "Then you'll have earned your gold, fighting or fleeing as necessary. But I suggest you make it convincing if you want to make it out with your skins."

Malik, who had been quietly listening, nodded his agreement. "Alright, we're in. We'll play along. Just remember, Xena—these aren't men of honor. We're not here to die for your cause."

Xena handed each of them three gold coins, her gaze steady as she spoke. "You're here for the coin, and that's all I expect. Just stay sharp, and you'll earn every piece."

Azar pocketed the coins, giving her a curt nod. "You'll get what you paid for, Xena. We're ready when you are."

With that, Xena rolled up the map, casting one final glance at the motley crew. She knew she would need to keep her wits about her with this group, each of them as likely to betray her as they were to follow through. But for now, they shared a common goal—and for now, that would have to be enough.

"Let's ride," she said, mounting Chubby and leading the group out of the city as the first light of dawn broke over the horizon.

((Upcoming Chapter Eighty - Five))

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