"Fuck with this!" He grumbled and kicked a pebble that shot to the front, hitting the tree's leaves. It fell to the ground at a far distance, making a thud sound at the end. "Who the hell decided you to lead?" He asked.
"I did. Because you didn't say anything when I asked before. You were in a daze, Mr. Lark. What were you thinking?"
"Daze my ass. I only remember walking for hours."
"It's not been that long. Just a little longer than an hour."
"You don't say." We both trod over this aimless, serpent-like path that never seemed to end. I pulled out a water sac from the side pocket of the bag I was carrying on my back. Taking a sip from it, I wiped off the accumulating sweat on my forehead and poured a little bit of water on top of my head. "By the way, what happened to that guy?" He asked, walking right behind me, a bit slower than the normal pace.
"Who?" I asked back as I gulped down the remaining water in the sac and kept it back inside.
"The dead one."
"Jasper? I don't know."
"As if. Where is he now?" He asked, catching up to me and pulling me by grabbing the bag on my back. Taking a water sac out of it, he let go of me, and our distance started to broaden again as his pace became even slower.
"Best case, missing. Worst case, probably dead, as you said." Ignoring his actions, I carefully inspected our surroundings as we walked. There were neither monster marks nor any droppings on the ground. "Mister Lark, do you sense anything?" I asked, looking back at the figure, who wasn't looking like his normal, arrogant self.
"Stop asking me the same shit. This is the fourth time already." He replied with an irritated face. His eyes scanned a specific direction constantly. "Has it been an hour? How far are we going to walk? Have we not yet reached the place?" He pulled out a map, looking at it intensely from every angle, before he crumbled it in his hands and a flame enveloped it, turning it into ashes in an instant. "What shitty thing have you given us?" His forehead was clearly popping out of veins when he asked that.
"Please be patient, mister Lark," I said as I slowed my pace to match his. "And that was very valuable. What you have burned with no care."
"Digit, was it? I have a problem remembering guys' names." He brushed his hair back, and a non-friendly smile crept on his face as he stopped in his tracks. "Tell me. Do we really need to search all this no-man's forest? I have been sensing nothing in the direction we have been walking or the direction we walked. It's a fucking waste if you ask me, little man."
I stopped too, looking at another trunk of the tree in our path. "We won't know that until we complete our search, mister Lark."
"Fuck with the search! Bitch, do you think I have any more patience to follow your little plans? I am tired of putting up with your facade." He took a fast step forward as if leaping and grabbed me by my shoulder, turning my body to face him and grabbing my collar, lifting my little, heavy body into the air and matching his gaze. His brows narrowed in anger, but his shaky smile widened even more. An eerie feeling ran through my back. "I heard the chance of half-bloods like you surviving the birth process is quite low. Is that true?" He breathed on my face, spitting his saliva a few times. "You people are scorned in every race. They call you worse names than a bastard's son. How far does one need to fall to get fucked by other races? Rather, I would die if I were in your mother's place. Do you know about your parents? Brother? Sister? Any relations?" His facial muscles twitched as his grip on my collar tightened, pulling my face even closer to his. "Bastard. Do you think people's lives are a joke to play your little games? You think everyone is as disposable as you?" Even in this stream of darkness, I could see his blood-red eyes that shone with this man's anger.
"Mister Lark, are you anxious?" I asked in a calm tone, contrary to the rage-filled questions thrown at me. But he didn't answer and threw me to the ground, walking to a tree with heavy steps. Sitting under it, he covered his face with his palm.
"You are asking me that? Do I look anxious to you?" His tone was still filled with anger and irritation, but I thought it softened a bit compared to before. Yet he didn't reveal his face.
"Yes. I am not going to ask for forgiveness for what you said just now. But I assure you, nothing would happen to Mr. Carter. I know you are worried. He is also a friend to me." I sat on my knee and got back into inspecting yet another tree trunk.
"Do you know who you are speaking to, little Dwarfelkin?" He glared at me, but I could see who was trying to put up a facade here. "As if I would be worried about that replaceable cook." He came and stood beside me, looking at what I was doing.
"It's Digit. I may be worth as little as a penny, but I don't take other people's lives for granted." I dug my fingers into the soil, sweeping through it. "And even if you don't seem like it, you do care for more than women, don't you?" I let out an internal sigh as I spoke.
"Stop talking." His tone became stern, and in the next second, I sensed it too. It was an ominous feeling that made all the hairs on my body stand in unison. We both looked in the same direction. Far away from where we were, in the closest distance to where Miss Luna and her group were. "Fuck! It's not them—" He couldn't finish his thoughts as the entire ground below us shook. Tremors? Like waves in a turbulent sea, the stiff ground distorted in shape, with trees being uprooted and trunks being shredded, falling and tearing down in all directions. When we were about to become the victims of this sudden disaster, a translucent light covered us, emanating from the uplifted hand of Mister Lark. A mana shield. It blocked everything that was falling on top of us, but we completely got buried in this forest of trees.
----------------------------------------
The girl walked to me in steady steps. Her eyes smiled cynically. "What are you doing here, Halia?" I asked once again. But she didn't answer. A wide, sharp smile crept onto her face. "Did you follow me? Is something wrong outside?" I narrowed my eyes, gazing longer into the figure, who felt completely different from before.
"You know you are beautiful, Miss Luna? Beautiful as a moon. So pure and white. Something I couldn't think of touching before." Her eyes darted from side to side, as if searching for something. "You killed all those fish monsters, didn't you? So powerful. The slashes, I mean. So elegant. You. Pure bliss, I'd say." She opened her mouth, running her fingers across it. She rubbed her saliva over her lips, caressing them.
"What are you saying? Is Torian with you?" I asked in the same monotonic tone as before.
"So young. I could bite your lips as if I were biting a seasonal, red mango." She continued her crazed musings, not responding to anything I asked.
I narrowed my eyes and spoke after a few seconds. "Who are you?" I unsheathed my sword and pointed at the girl slowly walking towards me.
The smile covered her entire face, with all her teeth showing, and her eyes widened into an amusing expression that seemed unfocused. "We don't need that between us, do we? We don't need anything like that. We are both enough. We are both more than enough. Don't you like my appearance? Don't you like how cute I look? Like a little sister to you. Say, dear Luna. What kind of guy do you like?" Her face immediately twisted, her skin and body muscles messing up, changing shape and appearance into that of a middle-aged man. "How about this?" Seeing as I didn't change my expression, she—he—changed into another man around my age. His muscularity and height increased and decreased depending on his appearance. Right before my eyes. The top he wore when he was Halia was torn off a little due to his comparatively larger appearance, which nowhere resembled the girl I knew.
"What are you?" I spoke as calmly as I could.
"Hmm… don't you like this either? Oh, I know!" His appearance changed once again, turning him into a familiar figure. His sharp features and golden-brown hair. A perfect copy of the man I know. Lark Holloway. I felt a tinge of disgust as I gritted my teeth to ease my little change in expression. "You like this bastard, don't you? I don't get what women see in him." He looked at his own body, running his fingers across his chest and down his pants, grinning with ecstasy and mocking it. He looked at me again. "How is it? Are you turned on? He has it big, if you want to look. Hehehe!" The air trembled around me as I leapt forward, ignoring his words and covering the distance between us as fast as possible. I aimed for his leg, but it glowed green as he jumped back, kicking the ground. All happened in an instant, leaving just a sound of whistling air behind. "Why are you so feisty, Luna? Don't you like this womaniser? I feel good, but also confused. Who do you like, then? Don't tell me it's that guard who is always with you." His expression was that of common curiosity. It angered me. I felt my insides churn. Especially with that man's face.
"Where is Torian?" I asked while I directed Aura into my feet. The ground below crumbled as I tightened my grip on my sword.
"Not so fast." He looked above and threw his staff, which circled in mid-air, transforming into an axe covered in a green Aura. It travelled fast enough to destroy a chunk full of mana crystals on the ceiling. A part of the ceiling shook and was separated as hundreds of mana crystals, in small and huge sizes, fell. I covered my entire body in a blue Aura and jumped back to my previous location. A few crumbling rocks and vibrant mana crystals that came as close as touching me burst without even passing my clothes. The water rippled and waves formed, splashing everywhere, and when the little commotion subdued, I turned back and saw the half-naked man, who met my gaze with a daunting smile. I glanced at the half-destroyed rocky bridge in between us, which separated both our sides. "I like how assertive you are now, Luna. I like it. I LIKE IT!" He screamed with his everlasting smile. "But as I said, not so fast." He spoke as he licked his lips, catching the axe that returned like a boomerang.
I slowly breathed in, loosening my stance a bit. "I thought you were a mage, Halia—what's your name?"
"Name? Name… NAME." He emphasised the very word as he extended his head to the front with widened eyes like an ignorant, curious child. "I don't have one. Hehehe!" He rested his axe on his shoulder.
"Why do you say that, brother Third? You have such a simple yet beautiful name given by our dear mother." A voice echoed from the tunnel behind his back as two more familiar figures walked from both sides. "Konichiwa, miss Luna." One of them said, lifting his hand.
"Drevin. Kiera… what… are you all?" I asked, a bit of surprise betrayed through my voice. They were the people I knew, but their expressions weren't as innocent as before. And contrary to how a Mage should be, they wore an arrogantly confident demeanour, with an axe in each of their hands. "And what happened to Mr. Carter?"
"You don't need to worry about him. He is resting... eternally, that is." Drevin, who was on his left, said while playing with the axe in his hand. It nowhere suited his thin frame. "And I am a little disappointed with you, Luna. I thought you'd have more brains than that. What do you say, brother Second?" He asked, leaning forward, and Kiera nodded without bothering to look at him. The appearances of all three of them changed at a time into bulky, rugged, bald middle-aged men with the same faces. My breath trembled. It matched the faces of the three suspects, as Digit showed us before. Masked Three. And he continued. "You people came to look for us but couldn't recognise when we were right in front of you. It pains my heart. Truly."
"Brother First. Leave that. I want her. I can't wait anymore. I really can't." In a vulgar manner, he massaged his crotch while looking at me, letting his axe go and extending his arm towards me as if touching me in his imaginary world.
"Oh my. Look at my brother here. He is already getting quite impatient."
"What have you done with the adventurers? Where are they? Are you the one behind Jasper's disappearance?" I asked, trying to ignore everything that was happening before me. It felt like talking to a stone, with none of my questions being answered.
"Hmm… you don't look surprised, Luna." He moved forward, to the edge of the rocky bridge that had half collapsed. And he narrowed his eyes as he rubbed under his chin. "Did you know it already? About us?" He gauged my reaction for a moment before a confident smile crept onto his face again. "Though it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, it doesn't matter." He shook his head and peered at me even intently. "You are a charming woman, as they say."
"Brother! She is mine! Only MINE!" The middle one was about to come forward and almost put his hand on the one in front, but the last one stopped him by holding him in place by his shoulder.
"Now, now. I won't steal my brother's things, would I?" He gestured with his hand without turning his head. His eyes were still focused on me. "Even if it involves the most beautiful person we have ever seen." But his gaze and words lacked the lust that his younger brother was seeping out with. "I wonder how much you would sell for? Hmm…"
"Where did you keep them?" I asked again.
"Luna. Oh, dear Luna. You are good at acting calm. You keep asking us questions unrelated to our current situation. Posing as being calm and collected. My brothers here may believe you, but I see it differently. Why don't you tell us what you are experiencing right now?" Saying that, he threw his axe, covered in Aura, straight at my head. I didn't move, and it sliced a few of my bangs, still spinning in mid-air and returning to its owner. "You didn't move your head just now." I could barely see him throw his weapon.
"Brother! Don't hurt her! I want to enjoy her! I want to tear that armour and clothes off and run my hands all over her body. I want to enjoy her. Entirely. Hehe!" The younger one shouted—screamed from behind. The other one was holding him with no expression on his face. As if it were normal for him. As if it were a chore.
I wanted to cut off his arms. Cut off his tongue. Slice him into millions of pieces. "Answer me—"
"Or is it that you couldn't move your head?" The one in the front continued as his eyes turned calculative. Inspecting every inch of my body. My armour. The hand with which I held my weapon and the hairs that fell on the ground. Unbeknownst to me, I gulped. A slight fear rose in my heart before quickly fading. What I didn't want him to know. He knew. He was just playing with me. Entertaining himself. "If you are not charging at us, that poison must be acting up already. How does it feel to stand still?" They planned all this. Where was the poison? I asked myself. I didn't know. I couldn't have. Again, they planned it. But how? I—we—were careful. I thought. "Like a rat who could only glare? Dancing, fucking blade, was it?" He gleamed. The blade was about to leave my hands. I had no strength to put up a facade anymore. I felt it would fall off my hand any second now. I thought I would collapse. Feeling dizzy was an understatement. I was standing—how? I didn't know. My body was numb in most places. Senses dampened. "Let's get this over with." Saying that, he leapt to my side with ease, but as he was still in mid-air and about to land, the ground shook. Tremors? That was my only thought when I couldn't even register their—my—final expressions as the entire cave twisted and collapsed on us like a crumbled, dry leaf, sinking us into the depths of this unknown dungeon.
----------------------------------------
I watched the bright morning scenery from the moving cart window. There were trees, more trees, and even more trees in a stretch of spacious landscape. The sun has yet to shine at its full strength. The mellow orange-red hues, painted with warm strokes of nature, with the empty sky as the perfect canvas, were another sight that didn't change. Inside this spacious royal carriage, of gold and red craftsmanship, there were two long seats on either side, covered with leather and a thin layer of white fur that spelled comfort and richness, both at the same time. And I sat facing the two most important figures in the kingdom. On the right sat a middle-aged, bulky man in full plate coral blue armour with hands and leg plates in silver coating. The chain mail was visible between the gaps near the joints. His posture was almost perfect, yet didn't feel forced. He had a shaved beard with no moustache, and his face looked stiff with no room for expression. He was the knight captain of the royal guards, Sir Tristan Reed.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
And beside him sat an even more important figure. A man in his late fifties with regal features and piercing blue eyes, which seemed to hold the weight of the world. His well-groomed white beard and his long golden hair were tied back into a small ponytail. Dressed in a tight white suit with intricate designs of gold at the corners and a mantle to top it off. He was none other than the current king of Icemere, Theoren Van Winterbourne. "It's so tight." He complained while cleaning the sweat around his band-neck collar.
"As far as I remember, you were the one who said we should start two months early," I said, meeting his gaze.
"It's not about how long we are travelling, Steward Desmond. It's about how uncomfortable this suit is. The suit that you don't let me take off." His grip tightened on his collar as he wiped down more of his sweat with the back of his hand. "And don't nag me every time I grumble a little. That makes me feel even more itchy than this suit." He rested his chin on his hand, placing his elbow on the edge of the open window, gazing out. The scenery outside didn't bother to change as the carriage moved at a slow pace. "So plain." He said with a heavy sigh.
"I will look for an ice or a wind Mage immediately in the next city, my lord," Tristan said with an overflowing sincerity from the side, tapping his armour with the side of his fist.
"No need to entertain him, Sir Tristan," I said. "He would never learn to stop being grumpy like that."
"Yeah. No need to take me—your king—so seriously, Tristan." He said, mocking my previous words. "I am just a grumpy little old man, like Desmond said."
"I wouldn't dare, my lord." But the captain himself answered in a serious tone.
"You are no fun, Tristan." He shook his head in disinterest. "And the prided Mages won't be happy to work on a mundane task like that. Isn't that right, Desmond?" The king asked, looking at the scenery with even more depth than before.
"I surely didn't train to my level to fan you, my king," I said as a matter of fact.
"See, even our steward is like that." He breathed a large volume of air and exhaled with his mouth. A small amount of fog formed, but it disappeared instantly. "The winter is a month away, yet why does it feel so hot?" The king murmured to himself. Turning his gaze at me, he spoke. "And you mages are prideful for no reason."
"Our pride is backed by our strength."
"That's what irks me more. You and that old geezer of the White Magic Tower. Pride, arrogance, and strength. There is no shortage of anything. This and that. There are so many things you take pride in."
"And you are the same," I said, looking outside along with him. The trees became denser and denser on the spacious grasslands.
"Hmm… You are listening to this, Tristan?" A breeze hit his face from time to time, the sweat on his face disappearing into thin air. "Am I like these so-called mages?" He threw a question at the bulky man out of nowhere. I and King Theoren looked at him. He shifted his gaze from left to right, his brows tensing up for no big reason.
"You don't have to answer that, sir Tristan." Yet the man was sweating through his armour. "You are making Sir Tristan uncomfortable," I said, glancing at him.
"Am I being too grumpy here?" King Theoren asked as if curious about his own behaviour.
"Indeed."
Folding his hands and crossing his legs, he closed his eyes for a moment. "I should be at least this much of an annoyance to talk with the tower master next time and cough up the inventions they are so secretive of." His tone was childlike, betraying his age-old appearance.
"Would he speak?" I asked.
"Would he refuse a genuine request from me, the king?"
"I would send a letter to him after we return to the capital," I said, making a mental note of the things I had to do. "Sir Tristan, I would like you, the knight captain, to personally deliver that. Is that okay with you?" I asked.
His eyes returned to normal, and his face was a bit serious. "Certainly, Steward Desmond."
"Haha! You certainly are not giving him a chance to refuse." King Theoren said, throwing a smile at me with his narrowed eyes. "That's good."
"At this point, giving any room to wiggle would be a waste of time for both us and him."
"I really want to get a look at his expression as soon as possible." His eyes were focused on the roof of the carriage as he went into his imagination with a wide smirk painted on his face.
"I don't think whatever is running through your head would come true, my king. He is still the most powerful mage out there. And we have more pressing matters to attend to." I said, sighing internally.
"The banquet? There is nothing much in that. A man using his children as tools for his own ambition."
"Aren't you the same?" I said, a bit mockingly.
"Steward Desmond!" Tristan shouted, getting up a little, and the moving carriage came to a stop.
"Calm down, Tristan. There is nothing wrong with what he said." King Theoren put his hand on Tristan's shoulder and pulled him back into his seat, while also telling the coachman from the small open space at the back to continue the journey. On the other hand, Tristan glared at me, which was still respectful in terms of his character. The king met my gaze as he sat with a calm expression. "For me, it's one of my many sins. That's a weight I can't forsake as the king of Icemere. And the same burden falls on my family, unconditionally. But for Viscount Nathan Winters, his children are steps for him to reach new heights. Tools of flesh and blood." He concluded.
"It is hypocrisy, what you are saying," I spoke my thoughts in response. Tristan was almost on the verge of bursting out again, but King Theoren made a gesture with his hand to stop him. "But I know better why that is needed. There is no sinner without a sin. And there is no man without regret. That's the reality. A reality where perfect ideals don't exist. Only hypocrisy does. Wouldn't you, by accepting his invitation, give another boost of confidence to Viscount Nathan and his reputation? It's no small matter when the king himself attends a banquet thrown by a noble of a small city on the occasion of his son's birthday."
He thought for a minute. "Nathan is ambitious. To back it up, he doesn't have power on his own. But Luna is a bargaining chip he intends to use. She is the current title holder of the Dancing Blade and the direct disciple of Miss Larissa Steelwind. The girl is no less than a genius. She has power. She has a reputation. She also has potential. That gives this small town noble much more importance than he deserves." His hand was on the edge of the window, tapping it with his index finger from time to time.
"There is no way to show him and his daughter separately. Yet he wants to make his five-year-old son take centre stage. That's putting a horse behind the carriage."
"Luck was given to him on a silver platter, yet he chose to question that. A narrow-minded fool is a fool, no matter what title he has. He wishes for the title beyond Viscount. Then we would give him that. But along with the weight he needs to carry, if he wants to put that burden on his son and just reap the rewards, that's okay with me. He can try whatever he wants. The fortress he wants to build will collapse sooner or later with the mindset he has. A noble like that has no right to rule. Indeed, we can't separate blood, but they themselves can. Even if it is Luna or me, there is always a limit on how much a human can take. Isn't that right, Tristan?"
Tristan, who calmed down, spoke. "I don't completely understand what you are talking about, but would Luna suffer in all this?" He asked with a pensive expression.
"I can't say she wouldn't." King Theoren said, and I nodded too.
"Then I can't decide on anything you both agree on. I respect that girl." His answer matched his character.
"As bad as it is, it would be her brother, Ashborne Winters, who would be caught in the crossfire when things went south. He will become the outlet for Viscount Nathan. Bearing all his bursting anger and blame." My concern was more for the child, who was yet to know the world but would become an empty sacrifice for his father.
"That's a sacrifice I intend to make as a hypocrite. You understand that, Tristan? And nothing can be done regarding that. It's his fate that he was born in that house." The king concluded as all our thoughts were aligned towards reaching a single goal. A necessary evil. Tristan was still unaccepting, but he had no choice in the matter. It's decided. For better or worse.
"Nothing can be done there," I said.
"But you can do something about my clothes. Give this old man a break." He pulled his collar in revolt. And Tristan looked at me, hoping for me to resolve this situation.
"You are the king. You should be well-presented at all times. You know that better than anyone, my lord." I said, not accepting any rejection of my words.
"Yeah, yeah. That's what you said a million times."
"Two times, to be exact."
"You know, Desmond. Sometimes I think you would be a better nanny than a steward. What do you say? Ready to instruct my two useless sons?" He looked at me, waiting for me to speak.
"That, I wouldn't be sure of. Crown Prince Gareth and the second prince, Rowan, are fine gentlemen. Isn't that right, sir Tristan?"
To my abruptly directed question, he nodded heavily after a slight pause. "They are, Steward Desmond."
"Oh my. Look at you putting words in his mouth. Don't agree with everything he says, Tristan."
"I did not, my lord. What Steward Desmond says is exactly true. The princes are very talented. As their teacher, I couldn't speak less of any one of them, even if I wanted to. Especially if you ask me about the crown prince, I have no words to describe how perfect and commendable he is. He completed the swordsmanship training under me within two years. His Aura is already transitioning from blue to purple. It is now only a matter of time and experience before he reaches my level and surpasses it for all that matters. His talent rivals the Five Swordsmen." His words were full of appreciation and sincere, as always.
"And here I thought, you were buttering me up." The king said, loosening his body and taking up more space to sit comfortably. "But I am not nitpicking their talents as swordsmen. It would have been better if they were born with the talent of a mage, but that's not my concern either. It's their character that I am worried about. One is cunning enough to realise his ideals, no matter the cost, and the other is naive and better left alone. And you don't say otherwise to this, Desmond." He gave a quick glance before continuing. "Gareth, as the first prince, had nothing to worry about as the next in line for the crown. Rowan is not only disinterested in the crown but also supports his brother more than I ever did. There was no competition to begin with."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Tristan spoke his mind, not understanding what the actual problem was.
"It is good. But it is also bad. With no competition, there is no room for growth. Those children of mine are smart enough that I wouldn't worry about the kingdom. Yet I couldn't stop thinking about it. A future where everything I created falls apart. The kingdom, my family, and the structure that people depend on. Sometimes I do wonder about the possibility of having a third son or daughter. How would it be?" He again gazed outside the window before resting his eyes on me.
"That's just you being paranoid. You need to have more trust in your children." I said.
"I, too, am of the same mind, my lord. I think you are a bit overthinking at this point. There may be troubles in the future, but nothing the princes won't be able to handle. They are responsible adults."
"You never know."
"If it comes to that, where nothing can be done and there is no hope, I would be there to look over them, protect them, and be the first to sacrifice myself for the kingdom." Tristan got on his knee, bowing his head to King Theoren.
"Please rise, Tristan. I know I could count on you anytime. I would be honoured if you continued to serve this kingdom." King Theoren lifted Tristan by the shoulder as he sat back in his place.
"You made Sir Tristan all emotional, my lord. And with succession to the throne right around the corner, you shouldn't be talking about these things." I threw a glare at him.
"I know, right. I am sorry, Tristan. There is no need to take my words too seriously. As you said, I was just overthinking. Age is really catching up to me these days." He groomed his white beard with one hand, making a warm, apologetic expression. And looking back at me, he said. "I also think your sons have more potential, Desmond. Especially that second one. I remember seeing him at a banquet a few years ago. Such a bright child, he was."
"Being bright doesn't make one survive outside. I can't say much about his potential, but he doesn't have ambition or strength, unlike his older sister. He does want to prove himself in front of others but can't grasp the big picture when things go south."
"Now, who is being all pessimistic? He is still young. If he doesn't fall now or make mistakes, then how would he learn and grow? It's all part of the process." The king tapped me on the shoulder, as if to console me.
"I know. And I never force my ideals on my children. Especially Kaiden. They become the culmination of their actions and opportunities. Being strict is just my way of guiding them."
"I know, I know. You are the great steward of Icemere. Whatever you do is all for the good."
"Please, don't mock me," I said with a sigh.
"I would be glad to accept Steward Desmon's son into our ranks anytime."
"That would depend on his skill. Whether he could make the cut or not. He is still too green behind his ears for now."
"You jest."
"Well, leave that. When will we reach our destination?" The king asked.
I looked outside, gazing at the horizon and the front. "Still, far from reaching Riverdale. Going on the route you desired and maintaining our current pace will take about twenty more days."
"So we will be left with ten more days before the main event?" I nodded. "Good. Let's make another detour then. Where are we going next?"
"We will be making a stop in Goldenvale, Moors Province, for the night," Tristan replied from the side.
"Oh, I heard their crab stew is a must-try. What do you think? You must have had that at least once in your travels, right?" The king looked eagerly at the stern man.
"Indeed, my lord. I tried that during my days as a mercenary and also while I travelled with a team of knights in training during a recent mission." He answered, imagining the taste and the time of the events, nodding in satisfaction. "I also suggest this one inn, where they have an unconventional cooking method with a multitude of spices."
"My stomach is craving just from my imagination alone. Have you tried all of them?"
"Most, I'd say. And the fried shrimp, juicy inside and crispy outside, dipped in a special sauce, is a must-try."
"Now you are making me envious, Tristan." The king gulped his saliva, a growling sound escaping his stomach. "Desmond, we will rest in that inn tonight." He said and turned a quick eye to Tristan once again. "What is it called again?"
"Night in Moors, if I recall correctly."
"You hear that, Desmond?"
"Please behave, my king," I said to the old man who was acting out of his position and age. "The inn I chose is also the same one. It's a little crowded, but that's for the better. And I had to pay extra to get the rooms."
"I know you have good taste, Desmond Greene. Now, can I change into casual clothes? It wouldn't be good if everyone became aware of us when we entered the place, would it?"
I sighed. "You really hate them, don't you?"
"Very much."
"Please learn something from Sir Tristan here," I said, and we both looked at him. He scratched his chin with an awkward smile, avoiding our direct gazes. With more banter, our journey progressed.
----------------------------------------
I, Kaiden Greene, felt weak and... regretful. Coming this far to Andor for a guild licence and falling into this state on a simple mission was nothing but pathetic. A mishap for the surname Greene. The shining silver armour, which I took utmost care of, felt like a burden now. My body lacked strength. Or I was too afraid to get up. I could smell the scent of soil close to my nose. My steady, calm breaths against the little wet ground, which absorbed the blood seeping out of my amputated left arm, threw me back into reality. I tried to escape as if it were an afternoon bad dream. The numbness was still there. The pain still felt hazy. It's kind of like it's there but doesn't exist for me. I didn't know whether it was bad or better. But as the sensation returned slowly, I started to feel whatever I tried to painfully avoid. The reality that I was going to soon die. At some unknown corner of the kingdom. The reality that I was betrayed by someone I trusted more than my scheming father or cold-hearted sister. And—my body was cold and my vision blurry from all the blood loss—the painstaking moans along with a sight that crushed my heart with tears flowing more than the blood before. I wanted to go to sleep. I wanted to die. But it kept me awake. The screams of her agony. A few feet away from me, the body of my dear friend was lying on the ground, completely naked. Her tattered clothes were scattered around her like fertiliser on the ground.
On top of her naked, small body, a man—a bald man—pushed himself on her, forcing and ravaging her entire being, playing with it like less than a toy. His disgusting smile, still visible from my corner, and his saliva that dripped from his over-extended tongue. Please, Lyra. I prayed. I breathed painstakingly. My heart ached, and my body yearned for death. Hers too. Please… It was painful. I cried and begged inside. The other two brothers watched the scene with wide smiles on their faces, standing right before them. I felt angry. I felt guilty and afraid. Useless. I was. I wanted someone to direct my anger. Someone to blame all of it. It could be the professor who told us to come here or... I avoided it, but—I wanted Eveline to be that. I wanted it grudgingly… but it changed nothing. Nothing at all.