"..."
Lawrence stood quietly, his arms crossed as he regarded Taron. The hard edge in his expression softened—just slightly—at the man's earnest plea.
Ace's ears twitched, his sharp red eyes narrowing as his tail flicked once in irritation, though he kept his usual biting remarks to himself.
"We'll see," Arlon murmured, his calm words carrying an unspoken warning. He straightened, his sharp gaze cutting toward Dimitri. "Make the necessary preparations. If he's coming with us, we leave immediately."
Dimitri inclined his head, his tone crisp and efficient. "Understood, my lord."
Arlon turned on his heel, his mind already shifting toward their next steps. Behind him,
Taron's shoulders slumped as a shaky breath escaped him, his fingers gripping the blanket tightly. Relief flickered across his face, but it was fleeting, replaced by the lingering shadow of what lay ahead.
Click–
As Arlon, Lawrence, and Dimitri exited the room leaving Taron to prepare for the journey ahead, the faint sound of rain outside had subsided, leaving the air heavy with lingering moisture.
Step— Step—
As they walked down the hallway, Ace, perched on Arlon's shoulder, let out a soft sigh.
"Great. Another stray," he muttered, though there was no real malice in his tone.
Lawrence chuckled faintly, glancing at Ace. "You're one to talk," he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
Arlon said nothing, a faint smile flickering at the edges of his mouth. As sunlight streamed through the windows, the day ahead promised more challenges—but also the chance to uncover the truths hidden in the shadows.
"You think he'll actually tell us anything useful?" Lawrence asked, breaking the silence, his tone edged with doubt.
Arlon's gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression calm but thoughtful. "We'll find out soon enough," he said evenly. "But whether he does or not, having him with us might force the Pry cult's hand—or at the very least, give us the advantage of information. That said..." He paused briefly, his tone lowering. "If we reach the Empire early, there's a chance the Pry members won't follow. Let's hope that happens."
"Lucky us," Ace muttered from Arlon's shoulder, his red eyes narrowing as he let out a soft huff. His tail flicked sharply, his voice dripping with dry sarcasm. "More mysteries, more cults, and another stray tagging along. Truly, our luck knows no bounds."
Arlon's lips quivered faintly in response, though he said nothing. Beside him, Lawrence's expression softened briefly, a flicker of amusement crossing his features at Ace's endless grumbling.
The sky began to clear, soft beams of sunlight breaking through the thinning clouds. It was almost afternoon, and the warmth of the day greeted them as Arlon stepped out of the inn, Ace perched lazily on his shoulder.
Dimitri approached him with his usual composed demeanor. "Everything is ready, my lord," he announced, his sharp eyes scanning the area.
Arlon gave a faint nod. "Good. Get everyone in the carriage. We leave immediately."
Dimitri bowed slightly before turning to ensure everything was in order. Meanwhile, Arlon walked toward the sleek black carriage, its polished surface reflecting the newly brightened sky. He climbed in without hesitation, settling into his seat with an air of quiet authority.
Lawrence followed soon after, his movements steady but purposeful, while Taron hesitated briefly at the steps before climbing in as well, his expression a mix of apprehension and gratitude. Dimitri was the last to enter, taking his usual place beside the door with a quick glance to ensure all was in place.
"Move out," Dimitri called to the driver, his voice firm but calm.
The carriage jolted softly as it began to move, the steady clatter of wheels against the cobblestone road filling the air. The scent of fresh rain lingered, mingling with the warmth of the afternoon sun as the village slowly faded into the distance.
Inside the carriage, a quiet settled over the group. Lawrence sat near the window, gazing out at the passing scenery, his brows furrowed slightly as though lost in thought. Taron, seated across from him, looked tense but determined, his hands resting nervously on his knees.
Arlon leaned back against the plush seat, his posture relaxed but his sharp gaze focused on Taron. Ace, perched on his shoulder, let out a faint huff, his red eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the man.
"So," Arlon began, his tone calm but edged with curiosity, "let's start with the basics. You've told us about the mercenaries and the Pry cult, but what else do you know about this village of treasure?"
Taron swallowed, glancing at Lawrence before meeting Arlon's piercing gaze. "Not much more than I've already said," he admitted, his voice steady but low. "Only that it's ancient—like a realm left behind by a god. Some say it holds artifacts of unimaginable power, but no one knows for sure. That's why so many are after it."
"Artifacts of unimaginable power," Lawrence murmured, his tone skeptical. He turned away from the window, his sharp eyes locking on Taron. "And you believe the mercenaries found it?"
Taron nodded hesitantly. "It's possible. They took the magic scrolls my boss gave them and disappeared without a trace. If they didn't find the village, then they're hiding somewhere—maybe to keep whatever they found for themselves."
Arlon's gaze narrowed slightly, his thoughts racing. "If that's the case, it's no wonder the Pry cult is after them," he said quietly. "Anything tied to a god's realm would draw their attention."
Why does everything have to be tied to gods or treasure? Can't we ever have a straightforward trip? Arlon mused silently, a faint trace of exasperation crossing his mind.
The carriage hit a small bump, the soft jolt doing little to disrupt the quiet within. Arlon's steady gaze remained fixed on Taron, his calm demeanor undisturbed as he leaned back slightly in his seat. His voice, sharp yet measured, cut through the stillness.
"We're heading to the Empire," he began, his tone unwavering. "But if this village is truly tied to the Pry cult's movements, we'll need to investigate further. Anything you remember—no matter how small—could be crucial."
Taron nodded quickly, his expression determined despite the tension lingering in his features. "I'll tell you everything I can," he said earnestly, his voice steadier than before. "I'll try my best to answer everything."
Arlon's piercing eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, silently gauging his sincerity. "Good," he replied finally, his tone firm. "We can't afford half-truths or hesitation. If there's something you're unsure of, say so. Don't waste our time."
Taron swallowed but nodded again, his hands gripping his knees tightly. "Understood."
Beside Arlon, Ace flicked his tail lazily, his sharp red eyes narrowing as he glanced at Taron. "Another desperate promise," Ace murmured dryly into Arlon's mind. "Let's hope he actually delivers instead of just piling up more questions."
Arlon didn't respond outwardly, but his thoughts drifted to Ace's comment. If he's lying, we'll find out soon enough.
Lawrence, seated near the window, turned his attention from the passing scenery to Taron. "This magic scroll you mentioned… is it dangerous? Powerful enough to handle? Your boss seems determined to figure it out if he was willing to make a deal with mercenaries," Lawrence said, his tone sharp with curiosity.
"All I know is that it's both dangerous and powerful," Taron replied with a weary shrug. "My boss is the type of person who doesn't give up if he thinks something is worth it."
Makes sense, Arlon thought, his sharp gaze fixed on Taron. Who would risk so much without expecting a significant reward in the end?
"Then tell us about any other useful information you can offer," Arlon said calmly, steering the conversation in a different direction. It was better to focus on something more concrete than diving into the hypothetical dangers of a scroll they knew little about.
Taron blinked, as if startled by the straightforwardness of the request. "Oh, right! You're right. I do have something to offer…" He rummaged through the bag at his side and grinned sheepishly. "How about I let you pick any items I've got?"
Items? Arlon and Lawrence exchanged a brief glance, their thoughts aligning. Oh right, I found that strange red stone in his belongings earlier, Arlon remembered. I should ask him about that later.
Taron pulled a silver mirror with mysterious patterns from the bag, holding it up proudly.
"This here," Taron said, pulling a silver mirror from his bag with exaggerated care, "is an enchanted mirror. It shows faraway places—though only when it feels like it." He gave a sheepish grin, his fingers brushing the intricate patterns etched into the frame.
"..."
Dimitri's eyes narrowed with interest as he stepped closer, while Lawrence leaned in, curiosity flickering in his gaze. Ace, meanwhile, let out a soft snort, his tail flicking as he muttered, "Wonderful. A moody mirror."
Arlon remained silent, but his gaze lingered on the shimmering surface, unease curling at the edges of his mind.
"Ah, well… sometimes it shows random locations, like a bakery in the middle of nowhere or someone's cat sleep-talking on a windowsill," Taron added awkwardly as the mirror's surface shimmered. It glowed softly, displaying an image of a man mumbling incoherently in his sleep, drooling slightly.
So it's inconsistent… but it could be useful, Arlon mused, though he couldn't think of any situation where this would be reliable. For what, exactly?
Taron quickly tucked the mirror away with a cough, visibly embarrassed. "Moving on!" he said, pulling out a white locket. "This is the Singing Locket. It hums a magical tune when danger is near, but... uh, it can't distinguish between actual threats and harmless things. It might start singing if someone sneezes," he explained with a forced laugh.
—eeehhhkkkkkk!
Before he could say more, the locket let out an awful, piercing wail, a sound so jarring that everyone in the carriage recoiled. Arlon's sharp reflexes barely kept him from wincing, but Ace's fur bristled as he glared at the locket with pure disdain.
"What is that thing?!" Ace hissed, his ears flattened against his head as if the sound physically hurt.
Taron hastily shoved the locket back into his bag, his face flushing. "Sorry about that," he muttered. "It's… sensitive."
A sensitive, ear-shattering sound detector. Wonderful, Arlon thought with exasperation, his disbelief growing. I think I've seen this sort of nonsense before…
"And here," Taron continued, his grin returning as he held up a sleek, gilded hairbrush, "we have the Unbreakable Hairbrush! Said to be indestructible and once owned by a goddess—"
His words cut off abruptly as the brush sprang to life, its bristles snapping toward his hair like tiny, furious jaws.
"Unhand me, you brute!" the brush bellowed, its voice high-pitched and dripping with indignation. "Do you know how long I've waited to comb perfection?!"
Taron yelped, wrestling the brush back into his bag as it continued its melodramatic tirade.
"It works wonders on tangles, but it, uh, screams melodramatic curses when used. Still... it keeps your hair flawless!" he added, his sales pitch faltering under everyone's incredulous stares.
A cursed, melodramatic hairbrush? Arlon resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.
All of these items feel oddly... familiar. Why do they remind me of children's stories?
"And this!" Taron said, his enthusiasm undeterred as he pulled out a small teapot.
"And lastly," Taron said, holding up a polished teapot with an exaggerated flourish, "the Teapot of Eternal Warmth! Keeps your tea at the perfect temperature—but you'll need to sing to it first."
"...!"
Dimitri's normally impassive face betrayed a flicker of curiosity, his sharp gaze lingering on the teapot.
Arlon caught the subtle shift in Dimitri's expression and arched an eyebrow. Seriously? Of all the nonsense, you're interested in this?
"And lastly," Taron continued, retrieving a single glass slipper from his bag. "The Slipper of Perfect Fit. It's supposed to always fit perfectly on the wearer, but, uh, it sometimes resizes itself randomly, making it a bit too tight or too loose at times."
"..."
Taron, seemingly oblivious to their reactions, grinned widely. "So!" Taron declared, his voice brimming with forced enthusiasm. "You can pick two items—extremely rare, highly sought after, and definitely one-of-a-kind!" He paused, chuckling nervously.
"Though, uh, they might need some… adjustments. Minor ones. Nothing major."
Arlon's expression remained unreadable, but his thoughts simmered with growing incredulity. These are like relics from some twisted fairy tale. Am I actually supposed to take any of this seriously?