Book 1: Chapter 35 - Her Progress [Part 1]
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"A person of wisdom does not rely solely on one transaction or one path. Instead, they keep many options in motion, for even the most promising flower can fade before it fully blooms."
- The Path of the Merchant by Gelgor Badawi.
Masculinity and its affectations have, for most of history, been closely tied to war. In modern warfare, which is largely impersonal and random, and where death is dealt from a great distance, the emphasis has shifted to camouflage and invisibility. This shift is reflected in fashion—men’s clothing typically features simple lines and muted colors, embodying what many consider the masculine aesthetic.
Men in the modern era, real men, unconsciously did not want to be seen.
This had not always been the case. In ancient times, being seen was often the point. Indeed, intimidation, with terrifying sets of armor was used. But men had also embraced beauty and bold fashion, both on and off the battlefield. This ranged from pragmatic intimidation to the noble pursuit of personal style and self-expression. In Aranthia, with its quasi-medieval European setting, this was still very much the norm, as Seraphina observed while watching her father’s household knights. Her escort for her progress.
Despite their colorful plumes, stylized armor, and bright personal heraldry, the knights' faces betrayed them. These were not merely men who had seen war—they were men who welcomed it. Their grim, resolute expressions spoke of a simple truth: in a land starved of proper diversion, crude war became its own grim entertainment. Such was the curse of this place, where swords sang louder than laughter, she lamented. Seraphina resolved that one day she would change that—not for them, of course, but for the preservation of her own sanity.
Ibn sat across from her, his unsettling red eyes fixed somewhere on the horizon. His sword, unbuckled and leaning against the carriage door, seemed almost comically large for a child his size. Yet Kellan had assured her the boy wielded it with the ease of a prodigy, taking to its deadly dance as naturally as a duck to water. He might have appeared endearing and cute, were it not for the ever-present shadow of intensity that aged him beyond his years. Still, even Seraphina had to admit that would grow up in a few years to be a handsome man. Bonus points if he kept his mouth shut and cultured an air of mystery about him.
Beside her, Eloise was buried in an arcane tome, her concentration unfazed by the carriage’s jostling. It was a feat Seraphina could scarcely fathom. Even with the crude suspension she had commissioned, designed with the wainwrights and the blacksmiths of the castle town’s cooperation, the vehicle jolted still every now and again at a few of the bigger bumps and deeper ruts in the road. The plush, velvety cushions she had also insisted on provided some relief, but Seraphina still found the motion vexing. Eloise, however, seemed entirely unbothered, lost in the mysteries of magic. Perhaps she would have Eloise go about and fix the roads with her magic, she thought to herself. She did always go on about how the roads of her father’s lands were so smooth.
The vehicle itself was actually the royal carriage that Vellens had inadvertently left behind, recovered, repaired, and vastly improved at Seraphina’s command. The whole thing had taken up almost half of her allowance.
After all, this was no mere conveyance; it was a statement. A girl like her deserved to travel like royalty.
Across from her, Miriam sat quietly, her gaze lowered, her thoughts unknowable. The inscrutable Palisa Slug might have been pondering the divine or merely dwelling on nothing at all. It mattered little to Seraphina, so long as Miriam obeyed when called upon.
Haze Finleigh, had chosen to ride with the driver. The Bard, despite dropping her disguise as a man, still wore the masculine clothes of her profession. It had raised a few titters here and there and the odd stares from her father’s men, but they would simply have to live with it.
After all, Seraphina herself was not averse to wearing trousers. She appreciated how they accentuated her graceful form, subtly commanding attention. They, far from detracting from her femininity, only heightened it by contrast, hugging her shape and adding a striking balance to her presence that was impossible to ignore.
Seraphina could imagine Haze now, exchanging idle chatter or perhaps singing a tune to pass the time. Finleigh, her Bard of rare talent, could replicate any melody by ear, though she always notated Seraphina’s compositions in the peculiar Aranthian script used for musical scores. It was one of those skills that Seraphina admired but had little interest in.
The day itself was fine, the morning sun radiant and golden, casting a cheerful glow over the late summer fields. The air carried the mingled scents of ripening wheat, rich, loamy soil, and—unfortunately—the occasional waft from a pig farm. Such were the realities of a land built on agriculture, thought Seraphina who endured it with faint disdain.
This journey was not to be hurried. Seraphina had decided to treat it as a leisurely holiday, an impromptu musical tour rather than a direct route to the capital of Aran. King Elidion and the Vellens could wait upon her pleasure. It would strengthen her bargaining position. She could see it now, her first stop: Lucalle’s Ford, a bustling town barely half a day’s ride from the castle town of Sariens.
Seraphina took this moment of peace to idly review her Status, her eyes taking on a faraway look.
[STATUS] Seraphina de Sariens - Noble (Human lvl.16)
STR:
DEX:
CON:
INT:
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
WIS:
CHR:
LCK:
37
19
20
21
10
40
13 [18]
Health:
Stamina:
Mana:
Experience:
308/308
48/48
13/13
815/1848
[Skills & Proficiencies]
Swords
(lvl.3)
Bows
(lvl.3)
Crossbows
(lvl.4)
Throwing Weapons
(lvl.2)
Dodge
(lvl.3)
Critical Hit Mastery
(lvl.4)
Improved Riding
(lvl.3)
Monster Taming
(lvl.2)
Herbalism
(lvl.1)
Daggers
(lvl.5)
Unarmed
(lvl.5)
Rest
(lvl.3)
Power Strike
(lvl.1)
Slings
(lvl.4)
Polearms
(lvl.1)
Medium Armor
(lvl.2)
Heavy Armor
(lvl.1)
Spells & Magic
Heal
(lvl.4)
Silent Casting
(lvl.1)
[Gifts]
Strength of the Old Ones:
+25 Strength
Notably, her practice with slings had also improved her Throwing skill. It mirrored the mechanics of a game, where progress in one skill could gradually benefit related ones. Seraphina speculated that if she continued wielding a halberd, she might eventually develop proficiency in the Axe skill as well. Of course, the easiest way to gain the Axe skill would be for her to just simply cleave someone’s skull in at the next opportunity. All that being said and done, she was well on her way to her next level, she mused as she looked out of the carriage’s window.