"Was that necessary? Should I suggest the Order to stop paying these men? You seem more than capable of protecting yourself and your entourage." The middle-aged man's voice was tinged with disgust as he shook his head and looked outside through the carriage window. His judgmental eyes stared at the adventurers outside paying respects to the fallen. The bodies were buried just aside the road, and anything valuable within their remains was taken away to be returned to their families, if they had any.
Elara said nothing and crossed her legs. The carriage was luxurious, but there wasn't much legroom for both of them unless they sat closely together. However, that idea never entered her mind. Her eyes wandered for a bit, wondering if the souls of those buried here might haunt travelers, before she looked outside the window, observing the exhausted men and women.
"I could never bring myself to go out there, bathe in blood and viscera, and go back to my life as if nothing happened. I wonder how they keep themselves invested in these filthy endeavors." The wizard spit venom with each word he spoke, and Elara sighed. His personality and behavior were just as unpleasant as the way he portrayed those adventurers and guards.
The mumbling did not cease as the man continued his judgmental protests, and Elara grew frustrated. Her lips twitched for a while before she finally spoke, "Patrick, enough. Have some respect for the dead." Her voice brought the man back to his senses. He adjusted his robes and settled more comfortably onto his seat.
"Incompetent, they were. They get paid so handsomely, brag about their experience on these roads, and yet die like insects against mere magical projectiles... pray tell, don't the first years and maids stationed in the sanctum conjure spells more potent?" He asked sarcastically, grinning ear to ear with superiority.
"They exercise a crude manifestation of mana... they are not spells but raw mana given form... isn't that the distinction between mages and wizards... or have you forgotten it?" Elara narrowed her eyes, her serious face hardening even more. Her patience was slowly withering away. This trip that had lasted for the last five days had been very unpleasant for her, but with Patrick beside her, it was destined to happen.
"I know... I know," he ruffled his obsidian hair, the air of superiority never leaving him. "I just mean to say I would never associate with any of them. Low lives, all of them, hah!" He scoffed, slapping his knees.
Elara gritted her teeth and slowly let out her mana, infused with a sharp aura, grabbing Patrick's attention. "I understand your point... my eyes and ears feel pained looking and listening to you. I wonder why you put up with 'me' then, since I mingle with those things you consider beneath yourself."
Patrick gulped, attempting to amicably smile in a hollow attempt to cool things down. "Your other features... make up for it." However, the words that exited his mouth soon made him regret his decision.
Heavy pressure assailed him as Elara looked at him, fury evident in her emerald eyes. Strands of her hair started floating due to the amount of mana she was releasing, and the window glass quivered. Patrick held onto his seat and bit his lip, resisting the urge to give in and fall.
Knock! Knock!
Elara briefly glanced at the door beside her, courtesy of the knocks. However, she did not relent on the pressure she was exerting. "My Lady, is there an issue?" Gyrus asked in worry. He had noticed the outburst of magic coming from within the carriage. Elara looked towards Patrick, who looked back with fearful eyes.
"I... jest," Patrick finally said, expending all the force he had. He had no intentions of being butchered by the 'Frantic Blade' in the middle of nowhere. Elara slowly relented, but the rage never left her eyes. "We are fine, Gyrus... we just had a disagreement," she replied smugly as she looked at how Patrick cowered.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
"I shall cut him up if you say so... just say the word if you need any assistance in this 'debate' of yours," Gyrus said playfully. He had heard the remarks of the man inside the carriage but knew that his mistress had frightened him enough to teach him a lesson.
A few minutes later, the blackwood carriage started rolling again as the group protecting it returned. It shook and bumped as it carried forward on the thin path regularly traversed by peddlers through the forest. The birds' chirping from the canopy made for a pleasant journey, but the noise of the rocking carriage drowned out their sweet voices.
Patrick gulped water from his personal leather flask. "...Convenient," Patrick said finally, rubbing his throat as he gathered his bearings.
"Hmm?" Elara turned to him, her eyes still sharp.
"Your life is convenient," the middle-aged man scowled and looked out of the window to avoid her gaze.
"What do you mean?"
Patrick didn't reply for a while, taking deep breaths as he carefully selected his next words. "...Must be convenient wielding the power of your father..." Patrick said, his voice betraying the same disgust he held for the adventurers.
"Choose your words carefully, lest my father's men murder you in your sleep," Elara warned. Her father was not so petty, but she didn't like where Patrick was going.
Patrick thought for a while, dusting his robes even though there was no dust on them. "What will you do when those adventurers or guards die elsewhere? Somewhere where there will be no one to save them... will you revive them with your powers?" Patrick asked, his tone disinterested, showing that he didn't expect an answer.
Elara did not answer. She knew she only did what she did because she grew irritated at their lack of progress. A feeling to help those outside did arise within her when she saw them injured and exhausted, but it was born more out of pity than genuine selflessness.
As the carriage continued to rock, she grew increasingly irritated. The days following the discovery of the Empty Grimoire had not been pleasant. Another jolt to the carriage ignited a burning sensation in her right hip. She started sweating from the familiar pain that had become all too common. She slowly became aware that her backside was hurting due to the incessant bumping of the carriage on the worst roads she had ever seen. The carriage might have been luxurious and supposedly comfortable, but it was not for Elara... not anymore.
"Gyrus," Elara knocked loudly on the carriage door beside her, beckoning her personal guard. Patrick braced himself, convinced that Elara would complain to Gyrus and his life would be forfeit.
The carriage came to a stop, and the sound of horse hooves and boots scratching against the ground ceased. Gyrus opened the door slowly, making no sudden movements. "...My lady, do you need some muscle in the 'debate'?" His voice still carried a playful tone, but his face turned grim upon seeing the serious expression on Elara's face. He reached for the hilt of his sword on his waist. However, Elara stepped out of the carriage and looked around.
She straightened her robes, stood tall, and inhaled the cool forest air. "How much longer until we reach the nearest city?" she asked, genuinely clueless.
"Very soon, My Lady... Why did you stop the carriage?" Gyrus had a confused expression on his face.
"We will continue the rest of the journey on foot. Come on," Elara declared, her voice firm. She paused and then ducked to look at Patrick inside the carriage. "I believe you will be able to complete the delivery. I will handle my formalities sometime after you do so."
Gyrus and Patrick exchanged puzzled glances but nodded in agreement to her. Elara retrieved her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She gave a firm nod to the guard captain, and together they stepped away from the carriage. The guard captain motioned for the carriage to move forward, and soon it disappeared from their sight, along with the hired adventurers and guards who had been surrounding them.
Elara shook her head, removing a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face, and retrieved a Grimoire from her simple bag. Gyrus positioned himself diagonally behind her as they started walking forward.
"Why did you abandon the carriage, My Lady?" Gyrus asked, his tone filled with concern. His hand held the hilt of his sword tightly as they walked in case they encountered some anomaly.
"It was not... convenient. I found it unpleasant," Elara replied curtly, opening the Grimoire.
"And the man inside? You should have told me... I would have..." Gyrus trailed off, realizing that his words were falling on deaf ears. His eyes wandered to the empty Grimoire that Elara held, its yellowed pages indicating its age.
Elara's gaze remained fixed on the Grimoire in front of her, trying to decipher its contents. The words she could see, it seemed others could not
*********
NAME : Elara Norman
RACE : Human
GENDER : Female
STATUS : Marked
STATS–
HEALTH : 280
MANA : 3800
INTELLIGENCE : 106
STAMINA : 30
STRENGTH : 24
AFFINITY–
LIGHT(35%) ,FIRE(57%) ,WATER(0%) ,GROUND(35%) ,WIND(68%) ,ICE(0%), DARK(—)
"...They speak of me... and yet, these numbers... what do they mean?" Elara mumbled to herself, confusion evident in her voice as she continued walking through the forest.