The rhythmic clatter of wheels over uneven ground was quickly losing its charm. Three days of this and I was going to start talking to horses.
Inside the carriage, I sat with Clara on one side and Commander Varnen of the elite unit opposite us, broad shoulders, scarred brow, and that same military stiffness that made me feel like sitting straight was a requirement rather than a choice. I didn't mind it though. At least he wasn't chatty.
"We plan to halt every 25 kilometers, my lord," Varnen finally said, glancing at a rolled-up map on his knee. "The terrain's uneven and roads lack proper pavement, so the ride might get... uncomfortable. If you wish, we can adjust the intervals to allow more rest."
He looked up, face stern, yet polite. Like a man used to escorting delicate porcelain and hoping it doesn't crack.
"I'm fine," I said, giving a small wave of the hand. "Let's just get to Leon Duchy quickly. The longer we linger, the higher the chance of someone trying to stab me."
Varnen nodded with the kind of gravity people usually reserve for funerals. "Understood. The unit is on high alert. Even the smallest movement will trigger immediate defense formation around this carriage. No threat will reach you."
"Good," I muttered. "I've grown attached to being alive."
As we continued, the open trail began to change, slowly but noticeably. The trees thinned, and rocky hillocks rose like hunched backs along either side of the road. Nature's idea of a bottleneck.
If someone had sent an invitation for an ambush, this was where they'd wait with snacks.
Clara's eyes narrowed slightly. Her gaze flicked out the window, scanning terrain, measuring distances like a trained predator.
Her hands rested near her thighs, too close to the knives she kept hidden under her skirt for it to be casual. Mana surged around her, subtle yet potent. Controlled. She was trying to detect the presence.
Suddenly, a knock on the carriage wall.
"My lord!" a guard called from outside.
Varnen leaned over and opened the side window.
"We spotted a group up ahead. Appears to be a small camp, including children. They've set up by the trail, which is narrowing further. Should we slow down or ask them to clear the road?"
Varnen's brows pinched.
"This is not a merchant route," he said sharply. "No civilian caravans pass through here. Send two men to approach. Get details. The rest, stay in formation."
He gave me a small bow and exited the carriage.
Clara's brows had drawn closer now, her usual calm being tested. Her lips were pressed tight, eyes sharp as ever.
"Your thoughts? Young master," she asked without looking at me.
I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting the motion of the carriage stop with a creak.
"Well," I murmured, "stopping is a good idea... if they're enemies, they've likely set traps ahead. Better to pause here than march into their surprise party."
Her gaze turned toward me, intent.
"But stopping is also a terrible idea," I added lightly. "Because it's textbook behavior. Any ambusher worth their salt would expect us to stop and prepare an ambush here."
This exact spot might be rigged to blow. Not literally. No grenades or land mines in this world...yet.
Her lips twitched. She must have thought the commander made a mistake... Why is this girl considering my opinion over a seasoned guard?
I crossed my arms and sighed.
"Still, if I had to pick between walking into a trap while in motion, where chaos reigns and horses freak out, or stopping and letting our heavily armed, pre-arranged formation handle it... I'd pick this."
My eyes reopened, gaze settling on the narrowing pass ahead.
If they strike now, it means they're ready to kill or die trying. Or that they think the power difference is overwhelming to overcome the disadvantages.
I leaned my head back again.
Those are the most dangerous kinds.
My eyes half-closed.
"Let's hope it's just a traveling circus with bad sense of direction."
It had been thirty minutes.
Still no sign of the two guards we'd sent ahead. No signal flares. No footsteps returning. Just the creaking of the wind against the rocks and the ever-present silence that only meant one thing—something was wrong.
A knock echoed against the carriage door. It opened a second later, and Commander Varnen stood there, his brows furrowed, jaw tight.
"My lord," he began, voice lower than usual. "The forwards we sent have not returned, and we've received no follow-up reports from the scout unit either."
He paused, exhaling through his nose. "Given the conditions… we may be looking at a confrontation."
There it was. The moment the calm cracked.
Clara shifted beside me, hands clenched slightly over her dress. "Is falling back not an option?"
Varnen turned to her, his voice grave but respectful. "It would be unwise. Falling back through these narrow rock passages would give any pursuer the upper hand. A defensive confrontation is preferable to a desperate retreat."
Her response was immediate. "Then only Young Master Hugo will fall back. With a few trusted guards. The rest of us will stay behind. Once the situation is dealt with, we'll regroup and escort the young master back again."
Commander Varnen's eyes flicked to her. His lips twitched but not in amusement. Just a faint grimace. A sliver of disappointment crossed his face, like he didn't expect that from her.
Then he looked at me. Waiting.
I simply looked at him without a word. He looked back at Clara. "An ambush that takes out a trained scout unit without raising an alarm? If that's what we're facing, then let's not assume we're the ones making the clever decisions here."
She looked at commander wide eyed.
"Whoever's capable of that knows exactly how to prevent their targets from retreating. Especially if they plan on letting someone slip away for reinforcements or as leverage. Splitting forces during a defensive formation is practically asking for a disaster."
Clara's breath caught, and when she spoke next, her voice cracked just a bit. "Then… what do we do?"
Varnen gave a short sigh, like he'd already been bracing for the worst.
I leaned back in my seat and exhaled. "Commander. Do what's necessary. And report back once you've done a detailed assessment."
He bowed, and this time, I caught it, a flicker of relief on his face. Probably thought I'd throw a tantrum. Maybe expected Clara to double down too. Sorry to disappoint.
Once he was gone, I turned to Clara. She was still tense. Her fingers twitching faintly, her eyes scanning things that weren't even there.
"Clara," I said gently, "take a deep breath."
She blinked.
"Go on. Inhale. Exhale. Again."
She obeyed, albeit reluctantly. A few seconds later, her shoulders relaxed. Slightly.
"We've got the terrain in our favor," I continued. "We're not the ones scrambling in the shadows. If anything ruins that edge, it's panic. So let's not give them that."
I looked at her, voice firmer. "Nothing will bypass you or our formation. Just carry out your duties like you always do. Just do your best to make the right call. And don't waste time wondering if it was the right call."
She lowered her gaze, the tension in her spine finally starting to unwind. Her hands unclenched and rested properly on her lap. She exhaled once more and said, "I'm sorry. I… didn't think it through. I troubled the commander for nothing."
"It's fine," I said with a small shrug. "No damage done. Let's keep it that way for the rest of this trip."
She gave a slow nod.
And just like that, the carriage felt a little less heavy.
For now, at least.
A sudden cacophony outside.
Clara immediately stiffened. This time, though, she didn't freeze in panic. Her eyes darted toward me.
"It's starting, isn't it? Seems confrontation's inevitable."
I gave a light smile. "Isn't that half the reason we're out here?"
No knock this time. The carriage door burst open.
"Enemies confirmed," he said, voice tight, posture even tighter. "They've started with arrows. Our guards blocked them, no casualties. Requesting permission to move forward."
"Yes," I said, not even blinking. "Move forward."
His eyes widened, probably expected me to squeal and scream 'take me home'. Instead, I was volunteering to push into the danger.
Without delay, the commander turned. "Unit Three, arrow curtain forward! Lancer front, shield left, advance in diamond!"
The guards moved.
One by one, the dead bodies of our scout unit came into view. Fallen in the line of duty. The formation didn't falter, they moved past them in silence, no stopping, no wailing. Just a quiet, invisible prayer with every step.
Then a strange sight. Three figures ahead, with children tied up in front of them, using them as human shields.
The commander's jaw clenched. "Switch formation, close gap and charge! Projectile useless! I repeat, no ranged!"
We surged forward, forcing them to act. As if splitting our force on cue, they let a few guards get closer.
They rushed in.
As expected, the cowards used the kids to block our archers' line of sight. Then, bam! like slicing meat with a crooked cleaver, the enemy split our forces.
Another trio emerged from the terrain's cover like scuttling rats and ambushed the right flank.
The split troops tried to regroup, but it was too late. Horses went down hard. Screams cut through the air. Guards fell, throats opened, shields cracked.
It was a massacre.
Clara's fist clenched. I could almost feel the tremor from where I sat. Then she moved.
Without a word, she stepped down from the carriage. Her face didn't show fear. Just resolve.
She turned to me. "Young Master, please stay inside. I'll help the gu—"
But I was already stepping down.
Her stance shifted instantly, she stood protectively in front of me, half-crouched, eyes scanning every movement like a damn hawk.
"Young Master, please. Get back in."
I ignored her and shouted, "Commander! Fall back!"
He hesitated, visibly grinding his teeth, but obeyed. The guards formed up in tight defense, shielding against the enemy's arrow rain.
"Why did you get out!?" the commander shouted, barely containing his frustration.
"Waiting to get butchered isn't my style," I said, offering a smirk that very clearly said you wouldn't need me here if you did your job right.
I looked ahead. "Have you figured out how to fight them? Who's strong? Who's weak?"
The commander growled, still keeping formation. "I've analyzed them. The one on the right—can't sense any mana. Weakest. Center one… roughly my level. Strongest. The left one's fairly strong. We can't handle this while protecting you. You need to fall back."
I locked eyes with the ashen.
"HEY! Bastards! You came all this way to kill me, what's the hold up? Forgot your balls back home?"
That got their attention.
The one in the center stepped forward, his voice dripping with the kind of self-righteous arrogance that made me want to punch him for aesthetic reasons alone.
"You don't need to worry," he said. "We'll kill all the Falcons here. And take you back to base. Teach you how to behave with your elders."
Ah. So it was personal.
"Sounds cute," I muttered. "Well then, why not begin now?"
"I'll take the one on the right, the weakest. You noticed my mana, yeah? Pretty sure I'm stronger than him."
The commander hissed, "You may be stronger, but this is war, not a duel!"
Then the one in the center, clearly the dumb leader type, nodded.
"Fine by me. End this farce quicker." He turned to the one on the right, "Don't back down. Fight him, die if you must, but don't you dare retreat. I'll kill you myself if you do."
Then six of them fomed a flank and charged at our formation. One stayed back, providing a ranged support.
The commander gave me one last glance, like I was a rogue grenade that had already pulled its own pin.
And then he roared, "Hold formation! Engage!"
The crash of steel-on-steel was deafening.
Just as Clara took a step toward me, likely ready to grab my arm and pin me down to suplex me into safety.
Thanks, Inspect. Always a step ahead.
I ducked her grab mid motion, spun around, and pulled her into me, one hand at her waist. Her eyes widened. Her breath hitched. Her whole body froze.
I leaned in, speaking just loud enough for her to hear.
"The one on the right… he's their leader."
She blinked. Once. Twice.
"I need your help to kill him. I can't let the commander and the others fight him and die for nothing. I drew attention to make this happen."
Her expression froze in shock.
"I'll go alone. But trust me, I won't die. Not until you get there."
"Young Master—"
"Clara. Please. Just this once, trust me."
She bit her lip. She hated it. Every fiber of her did.
"Don't rush. Don't waste stamina. Your strength will decide this fight later. Keep the commander alive. We'll need him. Don't run in headfirst. Take your time. I'll hold their leader."
I repeated, slower. "Save. The. Stamina."
Her lips twitched like she hated the very idea.
But finally, she stepped back, drew her weapon, and ran to join the commander.
I let out a breath.
Then walked toward the 'weakling'.
He was standing casually, holding his blade in a weak defensive stance, like he'd only started sword training last week and skipped half the classes.
"Go easy on me," he said, deliberately cracking his voice to sound frightened.
I smirked. "Really, Varkis? I was just about to say the same, with a lot more sincerity."
His smile faded.
His eyes lit up, with a predator's stillness before the kill.