Book 1: Chapter 29 - The Rescue [Part 1]
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The age of chivalry is not yet dead, merely forgotten.
- by Unknown.
Riding her father's warhorse, one gloved hand gripping a halberd resting in a lance cup, was an entirely different experience. Unlike the smooth gait of her own palfrey, every powerful stride of the massive steed surged beneath Seraphina like a tempest. The raw strength between her legs stirred something within her—a thrill she had not felt in ages.
If her calculations were correct, they were nearing the spot where the Prince would soon be ambushed by ‘bandits.’
Behind her trailed her honor guard: Sergeant Frest and the two brothers, alongside her lady-in-waiting, Eloise, and her maid, Miriam. More than enough to handle a few lowly brigands. Convincing them to set out without a full squadron of her father's men-at-arms had been the true challenge. She had brushed aside their concerns, insisting that speed was of the essence, her raw charisma quelling their doubts. In truth, it was because she needed as much experience as possible and venturing out with a large number of men would rob her of much of that.
They traveled along a paved road that once wound through gentle farmlands. Now, the idyllic fields had given way to dense forest; towering trees stretched their gnarled branches overhead, casting the path in dappled shadows. Gradually, Seraphina began to hear it. The distant clash of steel and the sound of death dying pierced through the rhythmic clatter of hooves.
She raised her gloved hand, signaling her small party to halt. Timing was everything; she had to intervene at the most opportune moment. It would not do for the Prince and his retinue to be insufficiently grateful—or worse, to blame her father for allowing bandits to roam his lands unchecked. So she deemed it prudent to wait a moment longer, allowing the horses and her party to catch their breath.
Sergeant Frest nudged his mount beside hers, his expression caught between a grin and a frown. "So, milady, seems we've found the trouble you were seeking. You didn't have a hand in arranging this, did you?"
Seraphina met his gaze with icy calm. "And if I did?"
He shrugged lightly. "Not my affair. I serve and obey, milady."
She sighed softly. "I had no part in this ambush, but I intend to put an end to it."
"And... how did you know?" Frest pressed.
"Still doubting me, are you, Frest?" she replied, a hint of challenge in her voice.
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"Mi… Milady Seraphina," Miriam ventured cautiously, "perhaps the Corporal, I mean Sergeant, is simply concerned. Shouldn't we leave this to the Prince's guard? If it is the Prince... Not that I doubt you, of course..."
The two brothers nodded at this.
"Eloise," Seraphina commanded, cutting Miriam off, "you will stay back and support Frest and me with your magics. The two brothers and Miriam will protect you." She dismissed her maid's apprehension with a flick of her eyes.
"I'm not certain what help Miriam will be..." Eloise murmured.
"Another body between you and a crossbow bolt is always useful," Seraphina said coolly, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. Eloise could only shrug her delicate shoulders, while Miriam's face paled with worry.
"Don't fret about Miriam," Seraphina added. "She's much tougher than she appears. It would take more than a bolt or two to send her across the Shallow River. We advance—slowly." Indeed, a Palisa Slug not only had the ability to assume a human form but also possessed an exceptionally high Constitution.
The former heir to a conglomerate had spent so long in this world, her memories entwined so closely with her new body, that the local nomenclature came naturally to her now. More than that, she was beginning to think of herself as Seraphina.
But that was neither here nor there.
They ventured forth, the clamor of battle growing louder with every second. Seraphina caught sight of rough-looking men locked in combat with the Prince’s guard. The guard desperately fought to protect the royal carriage who were valiantly protecting a carriage. It could only be the royal carriage, for it was adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts and glimmering gold trim and bore the kingdom's crest proudly on its doors.
As she had foreseen, the Prince had chosen to travel ahead of the main body of his royal train, eager to settle the matter of his formal engagement swiftly.
Seraphina was not sure whether to feel irritated or flattered by his haste. Was it eagerness for her hand, or merely a desire to get this business over with so he could return to his life of indulgent idleness? She shook her head, dismissing the thought. What she had not expected, however, was the sheer number of bandits attacking the beleaguered guards.
This was not a simple ambush or attack—it reeked of planning, of intervention. It reeked of her mother’s meddling.
The Royal Guard, among the finest in the kingdom, was composed of the spare scions of the noble families of Aranthia. Usually third or second sons, many were former adventurers of the Gold or elite army veterans. Ostensibly the best of the best, they now looked on the verge of being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of men on horse and foot arrayed against them.
Except for one man.
At the center of the fray was a lone island of martial might: an armored warrior clad in the white-gold armor of a Royal Guard officer, his plumed open helm revealing a visage of cold focus. Mounted atop a midnight-black warhorse that nearly rivaled her own Kicker, he fought like a force of nature. His heavy cavalry saber swung with the power of an angry god, smashing through shields and crushing helmets with such force that the blade might as well have been a heavy warhammer. Men fell left and right beneath his blows as he brained them, cut, stabbed, or simply cleaved bandits in two with calculated abandon. Where he rode they were shattered, smashed down by his strong arm, or trampled under the ironshod hooves of his horse.
The young girl felt her heart quicken, but she was unsure whether it was the coursing adrenaline in her veins at the prospect of battle or something else entirely. She advanced at a fast trot with Sergeant Frest reluctantly covering her.