In a moment of hesitation, Emi really didn't want to agree.
His principle in life was caution, otherwise he wouldn't have survived this long.
But...
As Emi remained silent for quite some time, Melissa grew displeased.
"What's the matter, are you backing out? Are you more afraid of that Richard, who doesn't even have a title, than you are of me?"
Emi's heart trembled again at her words.
He realized something very unfortunate: if he didn't agree to Melissa's demand, it wouldn't just mean missing out on advancement; it could also lead to Melissa using her father's authority to suppress him, to sabotage him, or even to expel him from the Violet Blossom Caravan Guild.
If he were truly expelled from the guild, it would be difficult for him to find another good job, possibly returning to a life of uncertainty, with times of plenty followed by times of scarcity.
Thinking this through, Emi's face fluctuated several times between dark and light, finally lifting his head to look at Melissa with a smile.
At that moment, Emi made his decision.
"Miss Melissa, rest assured, I will definitely do what you ask."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," Emi affirmed solemnly, but also reminded, "But don't forget what you promised..."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure my father promotes you," Melissa interrupted, dismissive in her tone.
"Very well." Emi nodded firmly, then turned and walked away.
Melissa's eyes twinkled as she looked in the direction where Richard and the caravan were. She began to anticipate what was to come.
Two hours later, the long and sultry day finally came to an end.
During the camping rest, Emi surreptitiously approached Melissa.
"Miss Melissa, I've arranged everything. Tomorrow, that guy Richard will get what's coming to him."
"Really?"
"Absolutely."
"Good, I'll be waiting," Melissa replied, growing even more eager.
The next day arrived in a sweltering heat even more intense than the day before.
Despite being autumn, it felt like a steam bath.
"White steam" rose from the evaporating moisture on the ground, enveloped in dust stirred up by the caravan's wheels.
Everyone in the caravan was drenched in sweat, hair matted, clothes soaked through with sweat and dust, instantly turning them a grimy gray.
Richard led the first guard stoically at the front, vigilant and watchful.
Behind them, caravan manager Mura shouted commands, urging the convoy forward.
Melissa sat in her carriage, eyes sharp and constantly scanning toward Richard in the distance and Emi within the convoy, eager to see how Emi would handle Richard.
However, after waiting patiently for half the day and seeing no action from Emi, Melissa couldn't help but glare in his direction.
Emi noticed and apologetically mouthed, "Not the right time yet, just wait a bit longer."
Reluctantly, Melissa continued to wait.
As the caravan traveled on, they covered ten miles, then twenty, thirty, and forty.
By afternoon, as they reached forty miles, Melissa could no longer contain her impatience.
She glanced again at Emi, only to catch him wearing a determined expression.
Puzzled, she was about to ask when suddenly, a helper in the caravan shouted loudly, "It's unbearably hot!"
Ahead, the first guard team dashed forward.
Suddenly, Tukku halted his horse and gestured toward Richard, "Master Richard, there's something."
"Hmm?" Richard frowned, kicked his horse into motion, and rode over to the wild field at the roadside.
There, he saw a large area trampled with tracks—horse hoof prints, human footprints, even discarded crumbs of dark bread.
It appeared to be a group's temporary resting spot by the roadside, hastily abandoned without much cleanup.
Rough estimates suggested it would take at least a dozen, possibly even twenty people to cause such a scene.
Richard's eyes gleamed as he slowly inhaled and exhaled.
Turning to Tukku, he asked, "How many places have we found like this?"
"Um... this seems to be the sixth one since we started guarding the caravan yesterday.
It looks like... someone's been tracking us," Tukku replied cautiously, his expression serious.
"It's not just a suspicion, someone is definitely tracking us," Richard asserted, his eyes sharp.
"What should we do?" Tukku pondered, his hand instinctively resting on the large knight's sword at his back.
"Wait and see, proceed with caution," Richard decided, "So far, these people haven't shown themselves, but they're definitely not here with good intentions. Tonight, we must camp in an open area, away from any forest where we could be ambushed."
"Where should we camp then?"
"Best to camp on flat ground, no cover nearby. Set up anti-horse defenses, dig ditches, and station sentries. Ideally, about twenty miles ahead, there's a spot like that on this old map," Tukku suggested, holding up a worn-out map.
"Twenty miles, that fits today's journey perfectly. Let's settle on that," Richard nodded in agreement to Tukku's suggestion, but not without a cautionary reminder, "Stay vigilant throughout the journey. After all, we don't know when those hidden individuals might suddenly emerge."
"Yes, Master Richard," Tukku nodded earnestly.
Then, with a puzzled expression, he asked, "But, Master Richard, who could these people tracking us be? What kind of people would dare provoke us?"
"Who knows?" Richard chuckled coldly.
"They could be opportunists with ulterior motives, or bold thieves. I have no interest in speculating on their identity. If they don't cause trouble, I won't bother with them. But if they insist on causing a disturbance, they shouldn't blame me for being harsh. After all... I detest meddlers the most."
Seeing Richard's icy demeanor, Tukku instinctively shrank back, remembering Richard's admonition from the night before to avoid trouble.
Just then, a member of the first guard team hurried over to report, "Master Richard, there seems to be some trouble with the caravan. You should come and see."
"Hmm?" Richard turned to the messenger, noticing the reddened eyes beneath the brown hair—a clear sign of conjunctivitis, commonly known as Red-Eye, a nickname given by his fellow guards.
The guard seemed disgruntled as he reported, "For some reason, the people in the caravan have stopped again, damn it!"
Richard raised an eyebrow at the multiple conjectures racing through his mind: Was it Miss Melissa causing trouble again, or...?
After a few moments of consideration, Richard turned his horse toward the direction of the caravan, with the guard 'Red-eye' following closely.
Arriving at the scene, Richard found the situation more absurd than he had imagined: an unnamed helper from the caravan was loudly demanding to stop and rest immediately because of the heat, suggesting they even wash up.
The rest of the caravan watched the spectacle with an air of amusement, tacitly halting the convoy at the helper's cries—they had no sense of responsibility and would seize any chance to slack off.
Richard frowned slightly, scanning the surroundings for Mura.
As the caravan's overseer, Richard expected Mura to intervene and handle the situation appropriately.
However, a quick survey revealed Mura was nowhere in sight, at least not within his line of vision.
"This..." Richard squinted, suddenly sensing a faint whiff of conspiracy in the air.