“Wow, this is really good,” Ariya said before attacking the bowl in her hands with ravenous fervor. Lusya had made a fried beef and vegetable hash for dinner, and, while Ariya’s opinion on the matter wasn’t worth much—hashes were her favorite type of recipe from Elberto’s book—it had, indeed, come out quite well.

“Practice improves all things,” Lusya replied. “Do not eat so quickly. You will make yourself sick.”

Ariya slowed down but continued eating. Lusya had become quite proficient at campfire cooking. Her meals were quite flavorful these days. Cooking in a proper kitchen was a different experience, she understood, so it was unclear how much her skills would transfer there. Not that she cared or had any intention of finding out. The improved quality of their food was nice, but, ultimately, it was all still for Ariya and her insistence that they eat composed meals rather than simply what would fulfill their nutritional requirements, though it did not take much to impress her as long as that bar was reached. Cooking wasn’t even a strict requirement. Elberto’s book had a few cold recipes that she had quite enjoyed. In any case, Lusya had no intention of pursuing the culinary arts beyond what was necessary. She may continue cooking for herself when the need or opportunity presented themselves—although she doubted that would happen very often with Father returned and the war resumed—but she would not be going out of her way to procure supplies once Ariya was gone.

While Lusya continued working on her dinner, Ariya finished hers and let out a satisfied sigh, her breath puffing out and floating up into the air. She rubbed her hands together and slid back on the gloves she had removed to make handling her utensils easier. It was winter now in the rural north of western Ysuge. The air was cold at all times, and a thick layer of snow rested upon the ground, save for the patch Lusya had used Miudofay to melt so she could set up camp.

It was unfortunate that the timing of their journey had them in one of the coldest parts of the continent during the coldest time of year, but there was nothing to be done about it. That timing was a side effect of Lusya executing her mission as soon as she could. Better to brave the cold than to delay Father’s revival. In that regard, the cold was a good sign. Lusya had expected it to be winter while traveling through this region. Despite the various delays and obstacles they had encountered along the way, they had been able to continue moving in the right direction for the most part, and so, they were only a few weeks behind schedule at most. Ariya seemed to be holding up well too. Lusya would need to keep a close eye on her health, but, for the moment, all was well.

“We’re almost there, right?” Ariya asked. She kicked her legs up and down, making a wet patch of ground squelch as loudly as she could manage.

Lusya nodded. “For a certain value of ‘almost.’ We will arrive at our destination in two to three months.”

“That’s still a pretty long time,” Ariya said.

“Indeed.”

“That’s good. I’m gonna miss you when it’s over.”

Lusya blinked. “I will also miss your company.”

Ariya grinned. It was unfortunate that her death was necessary, but at least she would be spared the chaos and destruction that would follow.

“We’re gonna pass Seris, right?” she asked.

“We will,” Lusya said. “We will not be visiting for obvious reasons.”

Ariya groaned. “I know. I wish we could, though.”

“Were it not the seat of the Sacred Knights’ power, I would allow a brief break there,” Lusya said. “But it is.”

“I know.”

Ariya enjoyed cities, and Seris was supposed to be a wonder among cities. The crown jewel of civilization, it was often called. Part of that was mere Talsian boasting, but she had read enough varied accounts to know that a great many neutral parties admired the city. Art, cuisine, architecture, scholarship. Seris was said to be among those at the forefront of all those fields and more. Being home to the Sacred Knights had surely helped.

Lusya herself was curious about it. Although she did not have the same affinity for cities in general that Ariya did, there was still often much to appreciate in a place where so many people had gathered for so many years, their crystallized accomplishments scattered throughout. If it was true that Seris was exceptional in that regard, it was a shame that Lusya would not be able to see it in its prime, and she did feel…guilty about depriving Ariya of the chance. But going was not an option. There would be a veritable army of Sacred Knights including multiple Paladins waiting for them. It would be a bloodbath at best and suicide at worst.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Would you like to read or write tonight?” Lusya asked.

Ariya hummed in thought. She decided which she would do each day on a whim. Lusya had encouraged her to create a schedule, but Ariya insisted on doing things this way. It was her work she was delaying, and it did not affect Lusya or their mission, so Lusya had stopped pressing the issue after the third time she had brought it up.

“I think we should read,” Ariya said at last.

“I will retrieve the book,” Lusya said, standing.

“Don’t look at mine!”

“I will not.”

For whatever reason, Ariya was quite secretive about the writing project she had taken on. She was adamant that Lusya was not to read it without permission. It would have been trivial to read it when Ariya was asleep, but Lusya did not wish to risk Ariya finding out and getting upset. So, Lusya was limited to the brief passages Ariya had shared.

They were not very good. The concept was solid enough, a group of assassins who didn’t kill anyone fighting injustice. But the writing was well below average. Lusya had not read anything else written by a child—save for her her own childhood writing project, of which she could not remember enough to judge the actual quality—so she had no frame of reference to how Ariya’s writing fared within that area. As general literature, however, it was quite poor. In order to avoid upsetting Ariya, Lusya simply praised the concept and encouraged her to refine it when asked for feedback. That seemed to satisfy Ariya, even though it was little more than meaningless platitudes.

Lusya grabbed the novel they were reading at the moment from her pack and sat beside Ariya. Ariya scooted herself as close as she could get to peer at the pages as Lusya opened the book. What the point of that was, Lusya could not say. The book was written in Talsian, which Ariya could not read, though Lusya had been teaching her how to speak it over the past month or two.

As soon as she had the book open to the page they had last ended on, Lusya began to read aloud. It was an adventure story about three heroes competing, each for their own reasons, to defeat a villain, a nobleman with a good public reputation who was, in fact, corrupt and sought to absorb all the Malice in the world to become the “True Demon King.” As far as Lusya was aware, the concepts of mortals absorbing Malice, something the heroes also learned to do over the course of the story, and the “True Demon King” had been created for the story, though the precise nature of the latter had yet to be revealed as far as she and Ariya had gotten into the story. Much of the novel was meant to be comedic, using personality clashes between the heroes and their tendency to become more concerned with their rivalry than their actual goal as opportunities for humor.

Although Ariya seemed to enjoy said humor and giggled at every joke, it was hit-or-miss for Lusya. She understood most of the jokes, but most of them were not amusing. Still, there was enough drama, and the plot was interesting enough to keep her invested. She would have tolerated it anyway for Ariya—and had done so in the past—but it was preferable when Lusya also derived her own enjoyment from the books they read.

After around half an hour, they had finished the three chapters Lusya allowed before bed. For much of the journey, her decisions on how much to read had been more arbitrary, but standardizing it had made things much easier. It set Ariya’s expectations and made it easier for Lusya to impose clear punishments by reducing the number. Or, more commonly, to increase it as a reward. Ariya did not often need to be punished.

“‘In that moment, Egnas realized that Neel had been right. In this chamber lied the truth of the world,’” Lusya read aloud, finishing the last chapter for the night, and closed the book. “And that is it until tomorrow.”

Ariya groaned. “But I wanna know what happens next!”

Although Ariya accepted the three chapter rule most nights—especially since they often read more throughout the day—there were times when she was less cooperative. Lusya did not understand that. She had provided a clear and consistent rule. How could Ariya be disappointed or surprised by it? It would have made a bit more sense if she protested beforehand, but she always waited until the end she knew was coming to say something.

Ariya was perplexing. Were all children like that? Lusya had not been, though she was far from a typical child. She remembered more of her childhood now. Much of it had been lost to the fog of time, but a substantial portion, she had merely hidden from herself in a fit of pique years ago. She had also hidden the fact that she had hidden it, hence her lack of memory until she had realized it recently after reconciling with her mother. Although the true workings of her own mind were new to her in many ways, and Ariya had found that explanation confusing when it had come up a week ago, Lusya found it all made perfect sense to her.

“That is the nature of a story,” Lusya said. “You know we only read three chapters at night.”

“One more won’t hurt,” Ariya replied.

Lusya cocked her head and blinked. “If I read one more tonight, you will want another tomorrow as well. I have made my decision, and you know what to expect. Go to bed.”

“Three will be fine tomorrow, I promise!” Ariya pleaded, hands clasped in front of her. “Please?”

Lusya blinked. “Very well. One more. And just for tonight.”

“Yay!”

Ariya practically threw herself at Lusya to nestle into her side as she reopened the book. She supposed that this, too, could be an occasional reward.