Lyra relished the quiet moment, savoring the warmth of her freshly baked bread roll after a refreshing morning exercise. Her body, though not as prime as she once had, had begun to show signs of developing muscle, giving her enough strength for moderate activities.
She sat on a weathered bench beneath a sprawling oak tree near the bustling market, watching the villagers start their day.
The atmosphere of this world never ceased to amuse her, a stark contrast to the one she had left behind. It was as if she had been pulled into a medieval era, experiencing a new life she had never anticipated.
But the thought of returning? Not in her list. Even if given a chance to return, she wouldn't. There was nothing left for her in that world, nothing precious enough to warrant going back.
As she chewed the bread, her eyes wandered to the children laughing and playing in the field, their carefree joy bringing a slight smile to her lips. The sight made her feel a fleeting sense of peace, a welcome distraction from the burdens that weighed on her.
"Lyra?!" a familiar voice called out, breaking her reverie. Turning towards the sound, she saw Giselle, the young woman who had kept her up late last night with tears and tales.
"You're Lyra, right? Why did you go out so early? I thought I told you I wanted to help guide you around the town," she panted, clearly out of breath.
Lyra noted the sweat glistening on Giselle's forehead, her dress slightly askew, and her hair tousled by the wind. Lyra couldn't help but wonder, 'Did she run here?'
"I thought you weren't serious," Lyra replied, her tone indifferent, the usual expression she wore when interacting with people.
As a former assassin, she was not one to easily open up to new acquaintances. She preferred to observe and plan every step before taking action. Besides, Giselle's offer the night before had been made in a drunken stupor, rendering it less than valid.
Giselle's rosy cheeks flushed deeper as she recalled her drunken tears from the previous night. "Oh, I was serious. And thank you for listening to my story. It's not often that I talk that much to someone I've just met. Thank you."
Lyra smiled slightly. "It's no big deal."
Giselle wiped her sweat with a lace-trimmed handkerchief she pulled from her dress pocket. Her expression relaxed a bit as she caught her breath. "So, when do you want to go to town?"
"Now?" Lyra suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"Really? Let's go then! I've already finished my business here too. Let me find a carriage first." With that, Giselle dashed off, leaving Lyra chuckling at her enthusiasm.
'Cute,' Lyra thought, watching Giselle's retreating figure.
Her cheerful demeanor was a stark contrast to her tearful, drunken state the night before. This side of her reminded Lyra of the little Pomeranian dog from her old neighborhood, always wagging its tail and looking for treats.
Finishing her last bite of the bread roll, Lyra stood up and hurried to catch up with Giselle. She found her already deep in conversation with a coachman, her hands gesturing animatedly.
"Yes, that's all my stuff," Giselle said to the coachman. Noticing Lyra's approach, she asked, "Is there anything else you need to bring, Lyra?"
"Nope," Lyra replied, climbing into the carriage without acknowledging the coachman's outstretched hand.
Giselle chuckled and accepted the coachman's assistance as she stepped into the carriage, settling herself across from Lyra.
"So, where's our destination again?" Lyra asked, leaning back against the cushioned seat.
"Brightwood Town. It's not far from here, about two days and one night by carriage. I've prepared supplies and necessities for us, so don't worry," Giselle said, smoothing her dress and adjusting her posture.
Lyra nodded, then glanced out the window as the carriage began to move. The village scenery gradually faded, replaced by the rolling countryside.
'I thought she was a bit careless, but it seems I misjudged her,' she thought, noting Giselle's thorough preparations.
"Oh yeah, Lyra, if I may ask, how old are you?" Giselle inquired, her curiosity sparkling in her eyes. Before Lyra could answer, she quickly added, "Hmm... I think you look too young to be a traveler. I'm eighteen years old this year, by the way."
Lyra hesitated, unsure of how to respond to this question. She didn't know the exact age of her new body, while her true age was in her early twenties. She couldn't very well reveal her original age. It would be totally unbelievable.
"Sixteen," she finally said, estimating roughly based on her observation of the body.
"Wow, I'm older than you! I'll think of you as my little sister, is that okay?" Giselle said, her eyes sparkling with excitement, making it hard for Lyra to refuse.
"Hmm... Hu'uh." Lyra nodded, resulting in an even more excited Giselle who immediately began chattering about the town they were heading to.
* * *
As they traveled, the landscape gradually changed. The rolling hills softened, giving way to dense forests where towering trees cast dappled shadows on the path. The road underfoot became more defined, hinting at a more populous area ahead.
True to Giselle's word, they arrived at Brightwood Town the next day, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.
The town was was very different from the simplicity of the village they had left. As they entered the gates, Lyra was immediately struck by the bustling marketplace, still alive with activity even at this late hour.
Vendors called out, advertising the last of their wares, their voices a cacophony of eager sales pitches. Taverns lined the streets, their doors thrown open wide, emitting the warm, inviting glow of lanterns and the murmur of conversation.
The carriage moved slowly over the cobbled streets, allowing Lyra ample time to absorb the vibrant scene.
She watched craftsmen toiling away in their workshops, the orange glow of forges lighting up the night. Children dashed through alleyways, their laughter blending with the distant strains of music wafting from the taverns. The air was rich with the smells of roasted meats and the faint tang of ale.
A few minutes later, the carriage came to a halt in front of a large house. Lyra blinked in surprise as the coachman opened the door, revealing a stately building adorned with tall, arched windows and intricate carvings on the wooden doors.
The well-tended garden boasted a vibrant array of blooming flowers and neatly trimmed hedges, a clear testament to wealth and status.
"Huh?" Lyra muttered, stepping down from the carriage, her eyes wide with confusion. Giselle chuckled softly beside her.
"Don't be too surprised," she said, getting off with the coachman's help.
As they approached the house, several people hurried out to meet them, their faces etched with worry.
"Oh my God, my lady, how could you leave without telling anyone first?! Don't you know how worried we were?" Their voices rose in a mixture of relief and reprimand, their concern evident in every word.
The house staff crowded around Giselle, their hands fluttering and faces anxious. Lyra watched the scene unfold silently. 'So, what should I do in this kind of situation? Let's just observe first,' she thought.