Clack clack clack… thunk! Clack clack clack clack.
The carriage wheel bounced off a large stone near the side of the road. The jolting jarred Thistleman awake, his head rebounding like a rubber ball bouncing off the hard wood of the carriage.
“Ah! Ow ow ow, ahh that smarts!” Thistle cradled his head in between his arms, with everything feeling a lot more sensitive than usual.
He glanced over at Diane, sprawled on the seat. Her breathing was quite uneven, although not quite pained. Thistleman snaked out his aura to study her body, breathing a sigh of relief to find no damage. She was getting fairly dehydrated though.
Reveal Mana.
He watched a chaotic flurry of mana particles course through Diane's mana heart. Pulsating. Swirling. Colliding. Yet still slowly moving towards balance. A consequence of her sudden awakening? It seemed to be consuming her entire mind to adjust and acclimate to her new reality.
She needed water though. And if her labored breathing was any indicator of how much focus the acclimation and mana regulation was taking, then just pouring some water down the poor kid’s throat would be intensely problematic. The mind needed to adapt to the overwhelming amount of new information.
Although, if I just used some mana to guide some water down her throat… then it shouldn't be an issue.
Satisfied with his solution, he then moved on to other matters.
Thistleman opened the curtain. The resplendent reds and oranges of the setting sun slowly faded towards dusk. The low hum of insects weaved a peaceful song for the evening. He noticed that the carriage was slowly drifting towards the edge of the road and he could hear the horses' ragged breaths and incoherent rambling from up ahead.
“Haa… haa… how… h-h-how… never will… will… won’t accept… not again…”
Thistleman leaned out of the window and he could see the coachman swaying steadily in place, locked in his delirious trance.
It’s a miracle the horses haven’t collapsed from exhaustion or had a heart attack. I should probably convince the coachman to take a break.
Thistleman attempted to stand up. The shock of all his muscles and nerves crying out in unison knocked him right back down into his seat.
“HEY, COACHMAN! PULL OVER AND TAKE A BREAK!” he managed to bellow.
“Ah… ah, what? Oh, right, yes.”
Following orders was baked into the coachman's soul, thankfully more than the horrors he had just witnessed. He pulled over. They had travelled quite far from Kurstwood and were surrounded by farmland. The road quality had improved as they drew closer towards civilization, with occasional hamlets dotting the horizon.
Thistleman steeled his mind, prepared for the pain he knew was coming, and stood up.
“Hrrrrr!!! Ahhhh… It’s alright. It’s alright. I got this.” It had been a really long time since he last felt this beat up.
He opened the carriage door and carefully clambered his way to the ground, holding in a groan as he limped his way to the front.
Were carriages always this large?
There it was again. Something was definitely off. Something rather unusual.
“Alright, you are going to rest up here,” he said when he got to the coachman. “Get inside the carriage and get some sleep. I will take care of the horses for the night.”
It had been nearly two days since the coachman had slept. He just nodded and, with a grunt, curled up in his seat and passed out, without even thinking to question why he was just accepting the direction of such a young boy.
As Thistleman prepared the horses for the night, everything finally started to click.
Were my hands always this small? My arms… are really small too!
In a panic, he started checking everything again.
No wonder everything seemed so large! Is this because of the contract? I know I tried to look more human…but why am I kid? What did I just get myself into?
It was on this frantic musing that Thistleman took watch for the night, cycling between groaning about his injuries and his new predicament.
The coachman snored loudly from the driver's seat while Diane was still passed out and steadily slipping into a calmer rest, allowing the night to pass rather peacefully.
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Diane woke to the sound of lively chatter.
She cradled her head in her palm as her stomach yowled with hunger.
“Hauuu…” she groaned to herself. Somehow, in spite of all of this, she felt… stronger. She blinked a few times. Nothing looked different, but somehow it all felt… more alive?
Then her latest memories flooded back to her.
The grendel.
Diane flung open the front window of the carriage. “Where! Where is it!?” she screamed in panic.
“Aghhh… watch where you’re yelling! Where is what? You are killing my ears!” Thistleman retorted.
Diane blinked again, looking around. Seeing farms and peasants walking along the road and in the fields was a welcome, calming sight. She sighed in relief for a moment before her face paled again. She asked in a shaken voice, “Where… where is everyone else? Hal? Gregory?”
The coachman’s face turned dark as he silently shook his head.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Diane bit her lip, desperately stifling her tears to little avail.
“We are getting close to Versailles now. You should probably compose yourself for your report to your father. I’m sure you already know how he is,” the coachman said.
Diane nodded. In response to another yowl, Thistleman begrudgingly reached in to the pouch next to him, and pulled out some jerky and crackers.
“Here. Eat this.”
A promise is a promise, and mine is as good as law. I agreed to do this stupid contract, so I'll carry it out. And, if I had to hazard a guess from past observations, humans usually don't let their friends starve.
The outer walls of the ducal capital of Versailles slowly inched into view.
Unlike Kurstwood, these walls were made out of stone pulled from nearby quarries. The city was decidedly larger, with nearly one hundred and twenty five thousand residents and another twenty-five thousand in the surrounding rural areas. It was huge even in comparison to most other cities in the kingdom, second only to the royal capital of Archion, and still perhaps larger than many of the cities of the Empire as well.
The wrought-iron gate was raised halfway up into the arched stone of the portcullis, with traffic moving smoothly in and out of the city following quick, cursory inspections by the guards.
As they approached, one of the guards signaled for them to halt.
“Who are you and what is your business here in Versailles today?” she asked in a bored tone.
Diane showed her family crest. “Lady Diane of House Culaine. I am here to see my father.”
The guard snickered. “Ah, it’s just you? Looks like you’re short your usual group. Hah! Well, go on through.”
Diane’s tightened her fists, but she held in her temper enough to not leap for the prick's throat. “And what would you know of it, hiding here behind the nice city walls? Peons like you are going to be the first to be eaten when the daemons come!” she sniped, shooting a frosty glare as the carriage rolled through the gate. The guard yelled something back, but it was lost in the bustle of the city.
To reach the duke’s manor, they just needed to follow the main road past the central market and main trade center. The numerous inns and residential buildings, built with a mix of wood and stone, made way to shops, smithies, tailors, and restaurants. Versailles displayed a level of resplendent wealth that attempted to rival the capital of Archion. Given another hundred years, it could perhaps even become a true rival.
The main roadway was well paved, with trees and flowers lining the center and sides and various parks occasionally breaking up the sprawl. Magical lamps dotted the street, although none were on in the midday sun. No point in wasting the mana crystals, after all.
Within the carriage, Diane sat in silence, staring daggers while Thistleman stared out the window, with a look of complete disinterest on his face. He had found himself in quite a perplexing situation, where he felt he needed to do something for Diane. However, he couldn’t recall the last time he had ever been someone’s friend. He had no idea what to do.
Sweets?
He imagined getting stabbed for being insensitive.
Wine?
She’s a minor! Absolutely not!
A massage?
That was a big NO. He was over ten thousand years old and she was ten! So what if he looked like a kid? Wrong was wrong. Even daemons could have some values and morals, albeit most would be described as severely lacking in that department.
I suspect burning city wouldn't help either. Most humans didn't enjoy the same things he did, so Thistleman pretty much eliminated anything he would do to improve his mood.
Thistleman repressed a sigh. As far as he was concerned, this was the toughest trial he had ever suffered.
Eventually the carriage entered the trade district, which consisted of a huge open field, with numerous paths crisscrossing it. Stalls flanked the pathways, selling all manner of goods. There was a convivial atmosphere, with people drinking and laughing. Some were throwing copper coins into the fountains, for luck, which stood at the convergence of various pathways. Along the outer ring were the major shops — alchemy stores displayed rows of various potions, while magic stores had wands, staves, scrolls, and amulets for sale. Next to them were the armor shops and weapon shops, selling goods produced from the blacksmiths that they had passed by earlier, as well as goods traded with adventurers. In the center of the park stood the three buildings that made up the heart of the city—the Adventurer’s Guild Hall, the shrine to Ukemochi, and the Ducal Knight’s Garrison. Each had the wealth of the city on full display, and were bustling with activity.
Amongst the various traders, throngs of people were congregating and haggling. From well-dressed nobles wearing flashy outfits heavily adorned with jewelry, with servants and slaves in tow, to mages in all manner and colors of robes, some with large pointy hats, closely followed by their apprentices. There were also the numerous middle-class workers, adventurers, and knights, as well as the countless peasants and street urchins deftly dodging their superiors.
Outside the carriage, people carried on with various conversations and Thistleman listened in.
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“What is this weapon? Is it some kind of special stick?” asked an adventurer; curiosity and wonder filled his eyes as he perused the wares of a particularly nice weapon stand.
“Hah! What you are holding is the newest creation of the dwarves! My source wouldn’t tell me how he got a hold of it, but he said they call it a Magi-Rifle! You can recharge it by changing out the mana crystal here…” The merchant's face beamed with pride as he strode into making his sales pitch.
“Incredible! It seems no one can match the creativity and skill of the dwarves these days. I hear their cities are an incredible sight to see, like a whole other world!”
“Fortunes! Fortunes! You look like a lucky fellow. Come, I sense a dear family member wants to speak with you!” An elderly old crone waved to a young couple with her gnarled hand, motioning for them to come over.
“What a fraud. Let’s just ignore her, dear!” The young woman pulled on the arm of her date.
“Come get the newest delicacy trending in the empire! These candied apples usually sell for five silver, but I am selling them to you today for a mere twenty copper each!” a merchant-chef in a white apron hollered out as a small vat next to him spat out steam.
“I’ll take one—hey! Thief! Someone catch that kid, he just stole my wallet! Ani-san, grab me one too, I’ll try it after I catch this kid!”
A filthy street urchin dodged out of the crowd, running off just to be plucked up by a nearby guard who confiscated his ill-gotten gains.
“Darrrliiing, you said you are from a rich family, and this amulet would look so good on me, can you pleaaase get it for me?” A noble woman in a garish red dress pouted to her boyfriend in front of a storefront while she pressed herself tightly against him.
“Madame had a wonderful eye, and this amulet is blessed by Inari! I can guarantee if you get it today, you will have many healthy children in the future! Please, come inside and try it on…”
The well-dressed commissionaire ushered the woman with her smitten man inside.
A crier stood upon a small platform with a banner waving behind him. On the banner was a knight kneeling, holding his sword with the tip pointed straight to the ground in front of him, his head lowered, and the full moon rising in the background. To his right of the crier was a table where clerks were filling out rosters as adventurers and down-on-their-luck individuals lined up.
“The goblins, hobgoblins and orcs in the Western Mountains have formed an alliance, but fear not! Great Count Horatio is putting together a subjugation force of talented adventurers, and the church has pledged to support him with their clerics! Food and lodging guaranteed, with a pay of twenty copper per day and a bonus for every slain foe!” the crier called, his voice enhanced by an enchanted megaphone.
“That Count Horatio is going? With the church? This mission is practically a guaranteed win!” one armored adventurer spoke to the team with him, sporting a wide and greedy grin.
“This will be the easiest coin I have earned all year! How much is the bonus per head?” the bowman in the group asked.
“Hah, that would be the least of your worries, John. You have enough trouble killing sewer rats.” The girl in the robes and pointy hat practically dropped a broadside on their ranger.
“You’re one to talk, Beth, you ran away from a small sewer spider!” the flustered ranger shot back, as their party moved to join the line at the tables.
Thistleman's rolled his eyes with disappointment.
Is that really the standard here? Running from small spiders? Seriously?