∼ Travels ∼

Chapter - 026

Peeking out from around a bend, Aria stalked behind Eric, doing her best to look as inconspicuous as possible. Though her sneaking drew curious glances, more than did it avoid them.

"Keep an eye out for any men with this," Eric said, pulling out an emblem, engraved upon it; a simple oak tree. "It's my father's house emblem."

Nodding as she took it in, she looked around nervously, startled when the rucksack at her back suddenly produced an angry voice. "Neargh-!" Nyx hadn't exactly taken to using his newfound words, despite being much more vocal as of recent. Well... this morning recent.

But he had quickly established his new favorite words, which were; food, stupid, and... stupid-hooman.

They had left only moments after a hesitant innkeeper came to check up on them, spouting stories of demons running about his fine establishment - to which Eric and Aria denied fervently. Or more like, Eric did, as Aria hid behind him, about as bad a liar as she was kind. Yet, they knew these rumors would spread like wildfire, and if Eric's father had already reached his influence out here, they'd be running soon.

To their great fortune, the caravan headed for Boreas came not only on time, but a little early that morning. It was with no few eyes sat upon them that they left the inn, trying their best to keep out of sight. So when they finally laid eyes on the mass of carriages, wagons, and people by the town gates, a flush of relief washed over them.

"Come on, I can see the Master Coach," Eric said, making a beeline for a huge bald man, who seemed as much part muscle as he was blubber.

He was clearly Moravian, easily distinguished by his green eyes and accent. Fitted in finely made clothes, though not ostentatious, but rather practical - the man oozed a sense of confidence as he ordered men around with a bellow-like voice, much befitting his intimidating size. He even reached Eric at full height, giving even more weight to his broad figure.

"Sir," Eric called out, though failing to catch the hollering man's attention. "Sir!" But the second time around did the trick.

"Yes-yes, lad, I saw ya coming." The large man fixed his gaze on Eric, sizing him up. "So - what can I do ya for?"

"We need transportation to Boreas, and we hoped you'd be able to offer." Eric glanced at Aria who stood behind him, hood and robes covering almost all of her fairness.

"Hmm - for you two, I can take ya on for twenty-five gaels a piece."

"Actually," Eric was quick to say. "We were hoping to work off the price. We've been bereft of our coin. You won't find a better fighter than me, and I can take any of you men on - single-handed."

The large man took another once-up of Eric, taking in his dirty clothes and the dagger at his hip.

"Well, son - looking at you, I do have to admit that I hardly doubt that you can't. But sorry, I have no need for fists, they won't do much good against a monster—you see. A proper blade you would need, and something that won't be torn in two by a stray swipe. But I'm in no position to be outfitting no more men. Sorry, lad." The large man turned without missing a beat and began barking orders again.

Eric sighed, nodding to Aria.

They had already talked this through, and they knew hoping that Eric alone would've been enough to take them on was a pipe dream. So since Nyx's little trek outside their room, and scaring the shit out of the poor maid, they knew that keeping the demon a secret rather than using it as an advantage was no longer a worthwhile endeavor.

Eric cleared his throat. "Ahem - sir!"

"Now - lad, I'm sorry but-" Turning back around to face the two, the large man with his deep-set frown, was about to say something but fell slack when laying eyes on Aria. More particularly, the red little creature standing on her shoulder.

"My young lady is a warlock, and we would still very much like to pay off our trip."

At a loss for words briefly, the large man gathered himself rather fast. "I deeply apologize, miss." He even bowed to Aria, his respect evident - if not partly fear. "Of course, we would be honored to have you to protect our humble caravan."

With that, word was spread quickly amongst the guardsmen and the people traveling along with the caravan; that a warlock was in their midst. There were mixed reactions. Some were elated by this development, as the trip would undoubtedly go smoother with a warlock to keep monsters in the dark - others were more afraid of her... than the monsters themselves.

Aria was even offered to ride along with the Master Coach atop his large wagon that headed the whole procession, to which she was grateful as her body had definitely not recovered from her years of abuse. Eric rode alongside her and the wagon on a horse given to him, with a new blade strapped to his hip, one lent to him personally by the Master Coach, who had introduced himself as Boram.

Eric found the name, Boram, rather fitting as it had an old meaning in the countryside; "Stout as a bear". Which considering the massive man who was only a coat of fur away from being one, was almost perfect. But his intimidating size did nothing to stop his men from making jokes and merry about it.

The night of travel drew long, and Eric was relieved to find that no one wearing the colors of his father was running them on their heels. They might truly have gotten away - for now, at least. As soon as anyone caught wind of the rumors that must be the talk of Tarren's Field, anyone with bad intentions towards Aria and Eric would know exactly where to find them.

Setting up for camp, during the early hours of the morrow, where the sun had just barely yet to rise, everyone got ready for some rest to continue during the midday. It was typical of caravans to keep schedules such as these, for those hours were where monsters went back into hiding. Well... most of them...

That was why they always kept camp short and tight, with as little noise as possible and the smell of food to a low, keeping from attracting any large and very unwanted predators.

The caravan guards mostly kept their distance from the mysterious and robed warlock. Only the Master Coach himself - and two, much senior to any of the other guards, named Mike and Dresden, were the few that did not fret away and sat by the campfire with Aria and Eric. The two old guards only cast occasional glances at the demon that would run through the fire, muttering gibberish as it played with various things it pilfered from unfortunate caravan guards, waiting for the skewered squirrels on the spit.

Mike and Dresden were hard-set men, who had clearly seen much - maybe too much, as they did not seem to fear Aria's status. But they were the best the caravan had to offer, two senior class-holders who had more than a dozen caravan travels under their belts.

Boram walked over, his huge frame making the makeshift bench creak under his weight and a bowl of steaming porridge that nearly spilled as he sat. With it, the smell of ground fresh grain directly from Tarren's Field wafted towards the others.

"So what brings you here, all the way out on the fringes?" He stabbed the bowl with a spoon. "A capable young lad such as yourself, and young miss over here. You're far from any place that'd be worthy of your—aptness."

"We're traveling from Mayne," Eric said, eating his own bowl of porridge. "But we merely got caught up in some trouble during a matter that had us wearing off course for a bit. Now misfortune has been so unkind to strike us blind, and leave us no coin for the rest of our travels. That would be why we've ended up here."

Boram nodded gravely. "Unfortunate most certain. But if you get us to Boreas in one piece, may I be so bold to offer a meager redress of your losses? It'd be the least I can do for acquiring the aid of a vaunted magi and a strapping lad such as yourself."

Eric looked to Aria as if searching for confirmation, though it was more than an act than anything. But that had long discussed him acting the role of an assistant or even apprentice to her, whereas she was pretending to be the somber and powerful sorceress.

She nodded, if not a bit stiffly, having barely uttered a word since departing from Tarren's Fields. That was for the best though, as she'd hardly seem mysterious or menacing the second she'd open her mouth.

"We would be most content with that - thank you, Boram."

The large man launched into a chuckle that was suddenly cut short as he felt something skitter up his back and climb onto his large bald head. He looked startled, daring not to move as Nyx was now sitting atop his head, gnawing away at a skewered squirrel absentmindedly.

"Hmm - hooman-stupid." He muttered.