This world is shit.
Sitting in my carriage, as the world sped by I kept my eyes glued to the window as we passed one vilge wreckage to another. Some look fairly recent with dead humans sprawling over the ground, others already bones, with their houses long abandoned and wild animals frequenting their homes.
"Beast tides" I heard Vojnka say.
I had her ride with me in my carriage because she was too heavy for our horses and the bear she came with wouldn't be able to keep up with the horses. Mustapha insisted on coming so now we are 3 in the carriage. Mustapha, alert by my side, and the 6'9 brute with all muscles, seated uncomfortably across.
"Beast tides?" I echoed, seeking crity. "In Drakoria territory?"
"The beasts respect no banner, your majesty" she said, but that was not what I meant. Even though we've rode all day, the demon forest is still days away.
"Is this a common occurrence?" I inquired, off the window a child's lifeless form impaled by a tree branch through the abdomen.
"Only in past few months" Vojnka's voice held weight "they used to be in just the demon forest but now..." Her voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken implications. "Now, no one is safe"
I could see the emotional struggle in her eyes, even though she tried to act tough. Maybe that's what happened to her vilge.
We rode the rest of the day in silence. For someone who grew up in the city, the freshness of the air of this world is otherworldly. Almost brings tears to my eyes how refreshing it is. Each breath felt like a blessing, and as we ventured further, the invigorating embrace only seemed to intensify.
When the darkness of the evening became too dark to see we finally halted—a first for the day. The horses, weary to their core, slumped to the ground upon stopping, their exhaustion evident in their very posture. I came down from the carriage to the massive crowd I was traveling with. It looks like a whole town. No doubt I would have covered twice the time if I had come with just about a dozen, but my safety comes first.
The carriage creaked as the hulk of a girl climbed down and stood by me. Every other person was setting up camp. I recognized mine already at the center. A gigantic bird just flew by, blocking the moon momentarily, but none of them reacted to it.
"Check the surroundings" I instructed the barbarian, and she departed without hesitation.
I watched her as she go. With her skills, she's the best person for the job.
Someone with higher strength than Mustapha is an incredible asset to have. Mustapha is probably in his 50s but he is superman-level strong, and the thought of a woman in her early thirties or te twenties possessing even greater strength intrigued me. These are the kind of people I need close to me while I become stronger. Too bad I don't have anyone with magic yet, but I'm not giving up.
I stood watching the interactions of the crowd. I sure did bring alot of them. Even though we brought a lot of food, it will be disastrous if we don't see pces to restock.
"Fetch me the young maid, Mustapha"
┌─────── ??? ───────┐
Under the moonlit night, the forest had transformed into a sprawling campsite for over 4000 soldiers, all of whom accompanied their king. The soldiers formed clusters throughout the woods, their campfires casting flickering shadows that danced in the darkness.
Amid this scene, a distinctive sound pierced the tranquility—the audacious moans of rough intimacy coming from the king's tent. The passion-filled cries echoed with startling crity, mingling with the rustling leaves and night's gentle chorus. As the moonlight bathed the camp, the sounds of passion stood out against the low presence of the soldiers and the peaceful night.
In one cluster of six soldiers, curiosity stirred conversation. "Where do you reckon we're headed?" one queried, his voice hushed against the night.
"Not sure" another answered. "Rumor says the Isle of Elgwood"
"Why would the king want to go there?" a third chimed in, skepticism evident. "All that is there is the dark witch's tower and the kingdom is not in want for gold"
The rest looked at the third in silence. Then, the third's eyes suddenly went wide in understanding, his eyes darted around to see if there was any suspicious eyes their way.
"...the dark witch's Grimoire!" he excimed a bit too loudly.
The rest looked around to see if his outburst attracted any eyes.
"It would make sense" the second mused, using a stick to stir their modest campfire when they noticed they were safe. "He has no lineage of witches"
"But I was there" the third persisted, his disbelief evident. "The goddess said he is Dragonhart. Neither his mother or father is of the witch bloodline!"
"I don't know" the second replied. "Maybe they are of a lost witch line or something"
"Then when did he awaken?" the third kept on probing. "The king not been awaken is a well discussed topic in the kingdom"
"I don't know" the second said as two of their companions stood to change camp "but your curiosity will get us killed, my friend"
Silence befell them once again. The second dropped the stick he had been using to py with the fire, dusted his hands, and started rummaging in his bag in search for something. He brought it out, scent of the soap mingling with the chill of the night.
"These are sold for as much as 10 silver coins per bar!" he said, showing the well sought-after soap. "And it is said to have been made by the king"
His companions stared at it in astonishment. They've all heard of the soap but few in Drakoria have seen it, let alone buy it.
"That's a dangerous thing to be carrying around" another of their companion said.
"That's why I only show it to friends" he said, tucking it back where he brought it out from.
"What are you doing here if you can afford a luxury meant for the nobles?" the same man asked him.
"...the pay is good," the second soldier replied with a nonchant shrug. While skepticism flickered in their eyes, they didn't press the matter further, and fell back to silence as the cries from the King's tent grew even louder.
