I held up a checklist as I walked through the woods. If it wasn't for magic bug spray, I'd be covered in mosquito bites. Thankfully, the area had been cleared of monsters before I got here. Dalv Sepet was with me. We both were carrying sacks filled with all sorts of things.

"Alright. I have a list of everything we need," I said.

"Are you really wasting paper on such a trivial purpose?" Dalv asked.

Ignoring him, I kept talking.

"Tents?" I questioned.

"We have tents," Dalv stated. "And we checked before we left."

"I'm doing a thing," I said.

Dalv stopped in his tracks.

"A...what?" he asked.

"A thing, Drac," I answered. "Cooking kit?"

"Yes, we have that," Dalv confirmed.

I nodded.

"Retainers?"

Dalv sighed.

"So, this is it," he said. "I apologize for everyone failing to inform you that you can't bring your retainers to the meeting of saints."

I waved it off.

"Oh, it's alright. I always figured that I couldn't bring them," I replied. "What I didn't figure is that I couldn't bring them within eight kilometers of the meeting place and that it would be in the middle of the wilderness."

"Where did you think the saints would meet?" Dalv asked, curiosity present in his eyes.

I shrugged.

"The middle of a temple or some other religious place. The Dark Elves have a temple that is for every god they know of, so I figured that saints would meet in a place like that," I said.

Dalv nodded.

"That is a decent assumption, and we once met in a temple in the holy city. That ended during a particularly violent meeting after magic came to the world. The temple was destroyed, and now we meet somewhere we won't cause collateral damage," he explained.

Then, he paused a moment.

"Well, I suppose we could still cause it. It'll just happen to a forest rather than a populated city," Dalv stated.

I groaned.

"And I wonder why Mr. God of Exposition couldn't tell me this," I said.

Dʰéǵʰom's voice came into my head.

"I could have told you, but you never asked," he said.

"Fuck!" I shouted. "Why didn't I ask?"

Dalv stopped a moment to blink. There was an expression of shock on his face.

"And here I thought that you wouldn't be able to surprise me, but that was quite the outburst, Gustav," he stated.

"It wasn't even in my top 100 outbursts, Drac," I shrugged.

Dʰéǵʰom burst out laughing.

"I wouldn't even put it in your top 1,000 outbursts!" he said.

"It's 557 for me," I stated.

Dalv sighed as he moved on ahead.

"Gustav, remember that I cannot hear Dʰéǵʰom. I can only hear Krewh," he pointed out.

I never forgot, but I'm not telling Dalv that.

"Don't worry, I'll remember," I promised.

"Good. Now, we should still be careful. Just because there are no monsters here doesn't mean the other saints won't try to sabotage us. It's no sure thing, but some of them might hold grudges," Dalv said. "Or one of their gods might have ordered them to set up traps."

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"As a prank or to sabotage other gods?" I questioned.

"Could be either. Trickster gods can be quite troublesome," he replied.

After that, I kept an eye out for traps as we walked. Just ten paces later, Dalv held his arm in front of me. I stopped dead in my tracks. The Voivode picked up a rock and threw it forward.

When the stone hit the ground, the forest floor opened under it. The rock ended up at the bottom of a half-meter-deep pit trap. Mud splashed from the hole in the ground. Or at least, I hoped it was mud.

"In case you're wondering, that isn't mud," Dalv said. "I could smell the bat droppings all the way from here."

Merde. Literally.

"You must be around bat shit a lot if you can tell the difference between it and other forms of crap just from the smell, Drac," I stated.

Dalv looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"I cannot tell if you're genuinely curious or if you're making fun of me," he replied.

Well, dung. I didn't want Vlad Tepes to be mad at me. And I really was curious.

"Even with your vampirism, I'm pretty sure telling one type of poop from another isn't easy," I said. "I mean, you'd have to have some exposure to them at the very least."

Dalv nodded.

"I suppose that is a good point. And you are still very young. So, I will tell you this: this is not the first time another saint tried to use bat droppings against me. I might end up cutting his head off if this continues," he stated.

Not impalement? Dalv was being pretty merciful.

With a nod, I spoke again.

"Do you think we'll encounter more bat shit traps?" I asked.

"Yes, there's one up there," Dalv pointed at a tree and then at a log. "And one in there."

An idea flashed in my mind.

"Drac, can you use your vampire powers to turn into a bat and fly over all the traps?" I questioned.

"Yes, I could, but then you'd be vulnerable to them," he replied. "Unless you can somehow smell bat droppings."

Dʰéǵʰom's voice came to my ears.

"Please let Dalv stay with you. I don't want you to show up at the saint meeting covered in bat shit."

"First impressions are important. But don't worry, I have another plan to get around those," I thought.

"Does it involve just incinerating the forest in front of you with fire magic?"

I shook my head.

"Of course not. I'd rather avoid destroying this place's ecosystem if I can."

Dʰéǵʰom's chuckling came into my head.

"This is gonna be really cool, isn't it?" he asked.

"It sure is," I thought before speaking. "Don't worry, Drac. I have a plan."

Dalv furrowed his brow.

"The more time I spend around you, the more that worries me," he said.

"You'll get used to it," I assure him. "Now, I've learned some wind magic in my own time."

Dalv nodded.

"I understand. You plan on using wind magic to blow away any traps in front of you. But that would not help for every trap," he pointed out.

"That's not my plan," I shook my head. "I might not be as good with wind magic as Joanna is, and I probably won't be for another few hundred years, but I managed to put together a parachute while I was staying in the city."

Dalv nodded again.

"Could you please explain to me what a parachute is?" he asked.

"It's a big piece of fabric that'll make you fall slower," I answered.

A smile crossed Dalv's face.

"Ah, that sounds like a wonderful invention. It would make dragon flights much safer," he said. "And..."

Dalv got a sudden look of revelation on his face. His eyes widened with shock.

"Gustav, please tell me that you're not planning on using wind magic and a parachute to try to fly to the saint meeting," the Voivode's voice was filled with concern.

"Drac, I'm not going to lie to you. I know that you hate it when people do that," I said.

Dalv looked at me as if I was completely insane.

"You really are going to try to fly, aren't you?" he asked.

"I wouldn't call it flying. I'd more call it launching myself in the air and safely falling," I answered.

"Gustav, I think that dragon flight messed with your head," Dalv said.

Dʰéǵʰom sighed.

"No, Dalv, Gustav was always like this," he stated.

"You know he can't hear you, right?" I thought.

"I know. I'd better find Krewh in case I want to have him relay a message to Dalv," Dʰéǵʰom replied.

"Good luck."

Reaching into my sack, I pulled out a parachute. It was a very makeshift thing that looked more like a giant bedsheet attached to ropes than anything else. Dalv got a strange look on his face as I put the parachute on.

"Gustav, I must recommend against this action," he said. "It is incredibly dangerous at a time when we cannot afford to be too injured. I cannot use healing magic, or any form of magic, and I cannot be certain whether or not any of the other saints would be willing to heal you."

I nodded.

"That's a good point," I said.

Dalv's body relaxed as I put the parachute back in my backpack. Then, my mind raced to come up with a convenient way around the traps that filled the forest.

That's when a strange voice came to my ears.

"Bat droppings? In a pit? Mīra's bones, someone has a lot of time on their hands."

It came from another area of the woods. My mind flashed back to my talk about the saint gathering with Dalv. Only one person that would be there is a saint of Mīra: Sir Elric Loxley of Fire Island.

Fire Island. A.k.a. Fantasy England.

And just my luck, the guy was William Dampier, an ENGLISH pirate, before he was reincarnated here. I was really hoping that he wouldn't be the first Saint I met aside from Dalv.

Then, hope entered my body. Just because he swore using Mīra's name doesn't mean he is a saint of Mīra. Yes, it...

...oh, who was I kidding? In just a few moments, Dalv will say something confirming that he's Elric.

Sure enough...

"It seems that Sir Loxley is here," Dalv narrowed his eyes. "So long as he is not engaging in acts of piracy, I have few problems with him. But I suspect you have a larger issue?"

"Even if you're from Eastern Europe, you're from the 1400s. I'm sure that you've heard about the Hundred Years War at the very least," I said.

Dalv nodded.

"Yes. That war ended during my lifetime. And I am aware of the rivalry between England and France. And despite now being a Greenriverlander, I do not blame you for holding strongly to your former identity. I fully respect that," the Voivode stated.

He then looked through the woods. A slight smile crossed his face. Dalv pointed.

"There's a path over there. It leads away from Sir Loxley's direction. Let's take that route," he suggested.

"Thank you," I said.

And with that, we walked through a different route in the woods.