On the other side, within the caravan's camp, Melissa glanced sideways at Richard, who was scribbling on a large stone.
With a hint of suspicion, she approached Mura and asked, "Uncle Mura, what did that guy named Richard say to you earlier?"
Mura hesitated briefly, then smiled and replied, "Oh, nothing much. Just a simple discussion about the daily itinerary of the caravan. Richard thought we were moving a bit slow, and I agree we could speed up a bit. After all, we are the renowned Wisteria Flower Caravan. So, I told him we'll be traveling sixty miles each day."
"Sixty miles?" Melissa frowned slightly. "Can we really cover that much every day?"
"No problem at all," Mura assured her.
"As long as we start early and stop late, we can definitely manage it. Actually, in my younger days, I used to lead caravans covering eighty to ninety miles a day. Those were the days... nostalgic."
Melissa didn't immediately believe him, her eyes shifting as she looked at Mura.
"Uncle Mura, are you lying to me?"
"Hmm?" Mura looked surprised. "No, Melissa, I'm not. It's just..."
"You must be lying," Melissa interrupted confidently. "We've been on land for almost half a month, and you've only asked us to travel just over forty miles a day. You even said that's the fastest pace the caravan can manage. Now suddenly you want to increase the distance. I'm sure it's that Richard guy pressuring you, isn't it?"
"Well, Miss Melissa, it's not exactly like that," Mura tried to explain.
Melissa didn't listen, snorting, "Uncle Mura, don't lie to me. Besides, you don't need to fear him. He's just a noble's son. Though they have a dozen people, we outnumber them two to one. What's there to be afraid of? Tomorrow, we'll stick to forty miles, not a step more. Let's see what he can do!"
Seeing Melissa's determined expression, Mura sighed bitterly, wanting to advise her properly. "Miss, we're here for business, not for quarrels. Moreover, this isn't Maylene; it's Prue. It's not a place where you can do whatever you want."
However, faced with Melissa's anger, Mura ultimately chose not to argue further, deciding to play along for now and assess the situation later.
Moments later, Mura turned to Melissa and said, "Alright, alright, Miss Melissa. We'll do as you say. Tomorrow, we'll only travel forty miles."
"That's more like it, Uncle Mura. The Wisteria Flower Caravan should have this kind of authority!" Melissa exclaimed.
"I..." Mura began to respond.
"Alright, I'm off. Uncle Mura, you stay busy," Melissa said, turning away to oversee the tent setup.
At that moment, Emi suddenly appeared, catching sight of Melissa's triumphant look.
Emi smiled and asked eagerly, "Miss Melissa, what's making you so happy?"
"Guess," Melissa teased.
"I can't guess," Emi replied.
"Then I'll tell you," Melissa said smugly. "That guy Richard just tried to secretly order Uncle Mura again, forcing him to agree to travel sixty miles tomorrow. Of course, I didn't agree. Who does he think he is, commanding our caravan? So, I told Uncle Mura we'll only travel forty miles tomorrow, just to make that Richard guy lose face!"
"Miss Melissa, you're amazing, truly amazing," Emi praised, seizing the chance to impress. "By the way, Miss Melissa, what would you like for dinner tonight? It's not completely dark yet; I could go into the nearby woods and find some wild mushrooms or..."
"Can you catch wild rabbits?" Melissa interrupted suddenly.
"Well..." Emi hesitated, unsure. But seeing Melissa's gaze, she quickly reassured her, "Absolutely, no problem at all."
"Good then, tonight's dinner will be waiting for your wild rabbit," Melissa said cheerfully, heading off to supervise the tent construction.
Emi chuckled wryly and walked into the forest.
Catching wild rabbits? Easier said than done. But now that the promise was made, failing to deliver would mean losing face in front of Miss Melissa.
-------
A few hours later, by the campfire in the dark night.
A dagger pierced into the belly of a grey-backed wild wolf, swiftly cutting open its abdomen in one stroke.
A hand reached inside, swiftly gutting the wolf, then the dagger deftly peeled away its skin between the flesh and fur, starting to skin it.
Before long, the prepared wolf was skewered and roasting over a fire.
The deep red meat visibly turned golden brown, fat oozing out and sizzling as it dripped into the flames, creating a tantalizing aroma that made mouths water.
This was dinner being prepared by members of the First Guard, turning an unwelcome wild wolf into their evening meal.
Tukku, near the fire, swallowed nervously after carefully monitoring the cooking.
Unable to resist any longer, he lifted his hand and pulled down the almost fully cooked wolf from the rack.
Turning, he grabbed a meat cleaver over 30 centimeters long, slicing meat and sharing it with the First Guard members.
"Hughes, this is for you," Tukku handed a large piece of meat to Hughes, casually saying, "You still have that injury, eat more."
"My injury's been healed for a long time!" Hughes protested loudly, but didn't refuse the extra helping of wolf meat.
Taking it, he bit into it heartily alongside a half-baked loaf of bread.
"Red Eye, this is yours," Tukku cut another piece and passed it to another member.
"And Old Matt, this is for you."
"And Philip, this is yours..."
Finally, left with the fattest leg, Tukku stood up and, facing his comrades' envious gazes, sneered, "What are you looking at? Eat your meat. This one isn't for me to hog; it's for Master Richard."
With that said, Tukku carried the still-dripping leg towards Richard, who sat illuminated by beeswax near a large stone, diligently writing on a scroll of parchment.
Since they had stopped earlier to rush, Richard had maintained this state for over three hours without drinking water.
Though Tukku knew Richard was not the type to forget to eat or let himself faint from hunger, he still felt some concern.
As he walked forward with the hind leg, he couldn't help but think, "Hopefully, this leg will suit Master Richard's taste..."
Before Tukku could finish his thoughts, a figure intercepted him.
Looking at the small girl who hadn't even reached his chest, Tukku hesitated for a moment, then deliberately lowered his voice and asked, "Little Lucy, I noticed Master Richard hasn't eaten..."
"So, you're bringing him a wolf leg?" Before Tukku could finish, Lucy's eyes fell on what he was holding.
"Yeah, just didn't know if Master Richard would eat it..."
"I'll taste it first." The young servant Lucy didn't wait for Tukku's reaction, walking up to him and taking a bite out of the wolf leg in his hand.
Chewing and swallowing, Lucy wiped her greasy mouth, quickly revealing a dissatisfied expression, glaring at Tukku, "It's overcooked and tough, and the salt isn't even spread evenly. It's too greasy; I don't want to eat it, and Master wouldn't like it either."
"This..."
"Fine, whatever." Lucy waved her hand, a disdainful expression on her face as she told Tukku, "Take it back and eat it yourself. Stop worrying about what Master eats. I've got honeyed biscuits baking, a hundred times tastier than your wolf meat!"
If anyone else had said that, Tukku would have been furious, but faced with a twelve-year-old girl, he couldn't bring himself to get angry.
Shrugging helplessly after hearing Lucy's words, Tukku turned around begrudgingly and started walking back in the direction he came from.
Halfway there, he lifted the wolf leg and took a big bite.
Instantly, numerous eyes turned to watch him again, even more scrutinizingly than before.
Tukku, unapologetic and unabashed, glared back and shouted, "What are you all looking at? Eat your own meat! This wolf leg I have is only because Master Richard won't eat it!"
"Hey!" The members of the First Guard responded with one part jest, one part disbelief, and four parts mockery, before lowering their heads to resume devouring their own wolf meat and bread.