Creak. Rattle.
Thump.
The rhythmic, teeth-rattling bouncing of the wooden transport cart did absolutely nothing to settle Roya's racing mind.
Sitting with her knees pulled close to her chest, she stared blankly at the wooden floorboards. (How the hell did I end up in this situation?) she thought, a heavy sigh escaping her lips.
Across from her sat the blue-haired jackass. He was completely ignoring her, his full attention focused on the unsheathed, exquisitely crafted longsword resting across his lap.
He gently wiped down the gleaming azure steel, his face a mask of absolute, infuriating calm.
Watching him, Roya's mind involuntarily slipped backward, pulled into the memory of her final moments in Oakhaven.
A few hours earlier...
After discovering her parents' silver ring, a strange, profound peace had settled over Roya.
The chaotic Aether inside her had stabilized. But as they walked back down the dirt paths of the ruined village, the reality of the aftermath set in.
The streets were mostly empty. The few surviving women and children hid behind half-broken doors, staring at her from afar. Their eyes weren't filled with gratitude. They were filled with sheer terror.
As they passed the village square, Roya noticed one door still open: Madam Clara's tailor shop.
Roya stopped. Inside, the usually cheerful, boisterous woman was sitting on a stool, completely still, facing the back wall.
"Madam Clara...?"
Roya called out softly, stepping toward the doorway.
Clara flinched. She didn't turn around, but her shoulders began to tremble violently.
"I know..." she choked out, hurriedly wiping at her face. "I know you did nothing wrong, Roya. I know it wasn't you who swung the blades."
Roya's chest tightened. She slowly reached a hand out toward the woman who had always treated her with such warmth.
"Ma'am—"
"But I still can't forgive you!" Clara suddenly wailed, her voice cracking with raw, unadulterated grief. "My boy... my son is gone! Just leave... please, just leave this village and never come back!"
Roya froze. The words hit harder than any physical blow she had taken that day. Slowly, she pulled her trembling hand back, letting it drop to her side.
She felt a heavy weight on her shoulder. The blue-haired guy was standing right behind her, his hand resting firmly on her collarbone.
"Let's keep moving,"
he said, his voice surprisingly quiet.
Roya shook his hand down and began walking quickly toward the outskirts of the village, her eyes burning.
(She's right,) Roya realized, biting her lip so hard it almost bled. (No matter who was actually at fault... every single person in this village lost someone today. A husband, a father, a son. Because of me. There is no place left for me here.)
When the dirt path finally gave way to the main road leading out of Oakhaven, the blue-haired guy shoved his hands into his pockets. "So. What's next? Where are you headed?"
Roya didn't look back at the smoke rising in the distance. "Hibi Village. It's the only other place I know."
Present Time
Thump.
The cart hit another deep rut in the road, snapping Roya back to the present. She looked up at the blue-haired guy, who was finally sheathing his sword with a satisfying click.
"Hey," Roya said, breaking the silence.
"Thank you. For everything you did back there. But... why do you keep following me? I already told you, I have absolutely nothing left to reward you with."
He raised an eyebrow, his signature smug expression instantly returning to his face. "Following who? Don't flatter yourself, brat. My job got completely messed up because of your little village bonfire. What else can I do now but head back?"
He leaned back, crossing his arms comfortably. "Besides, as for a reward? Please. I don't take from the poor."
Roya's eye twitched. (Who does he think is poor?! I had more savings than the village chief!)
She opened her mouth to snap back, but her words died in her throat. She looked at his pristine, high-quality fabric coat. She looked at the jewel-encrusted hilt of his sword.
Then, she looked down at herself—wearing an oversized spare shirt and the sturdy traveler's pants she had quietly grabbed from Clara's shop on the way out, carrying absolutely zero copper coins, with her entire net worth boiling down to a single silver ring hidden in her wrappings.
(Dammit. He's not wrong at all. I am literally poor.)
Defeated, Roya puffed her cheeks out in an aggressive pout, stubbornly turning her head to stare out the back of the cart.
In the distance, the wooden gates of Hibi Village finally came into view.
Once they stopped, Roya handed the driver the last few measly copper coins she had managed to scrounge from her ruined pockets. She stared at her empty hands, a wave of profound depression washing over her.
She was officially penniless.
"So," the blue-haired guy asked, stretching his long legs. "Is there anywhere in particular you actually need to be in this mud pit?"
"Yes," Roya muttered, already walking away.
As they weaved through the bustling, rugged marketplace, Roya kept her head down. Suddenly, a snippet of conversation from a nearby merchant stall caught her ear.
"—telling you, it was a witch! Out in Oakhaven!" a fat merchant whispered loudly, waving a mug of ale.
"Slaughtered every last man in the village! Sliced them clean in half!"
His companion barked a laugh.
"You still believe in fairy tales, you old drunk? If everybody is dead, who the hell lived to tell you the news? Use your head."
Roya gritted her teeth, instinctively quickening her pace. She practically sped-walked past the stall, desperately hoping her oversized collar hid her face.
The blue-haired guy casually matched her frantic pace. "Hey, brat," he muttered, his tone dropping its usual humor. "I don't think this place is going to be safe for you much longer. Word travels fast."
"I told you, I am not a brat, I'm sixteen," Roya replied automatically. But after that, she fell dead silent. She knew he was right. Once the Holy Church heard rumors of a 'witch' wiping out an entire mob, inquisitors would swarm Hibi Village within days.
They finally reached a familiar, cluttered storefront. Roya pushed the wooden door open.
Old Man Bael was sitting behind his counter, sorting through a pile of dried roots.
He looked up, his eyes widening slightly as he took in Roya's battered state and the strange, heavily armed man standing behind her.
Roya didn't hold anything back. She sat in the wooden chair opposite his counter and told him everything. The betrayal. The pyre. The massacre.
Bael didn't interrupt once. He just listened, his weathered face growing older and heavier with every word. He had known Roya since she was a little girl holding her father's hand; seeing her like this clearly broke his heart.
When she finally finished, a heavy silence filled the dusty shop.
"Roya," Bael said softly, leaning forward. "You need to listen to me carefully. You cannot stay in Romero. You need to cross the border and go to the neighboring Kingdom of Vael. The people there... they operate differently than they do here. The Church's reach is weak there. You will be able to live in peace."
He stood up, grabbing his heavy walking coat. "This town isn't safe for you anymore. Stay here tonight. Rest. Leave first thing in the morning. I will go into the market and arrange the travel supplies you need."
Roya flinched, looking down at her lap.
"Bael... I can't. I don't have any money left to pay you."
The old man stopped at the door. He looked back at her, a warm, sad smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. "Do you really think so little of this old man, child?"
Without another word, he stepped out into the bustling street.
Roya sat in the quiet shop for a long time. Eventually, the walls felt too tight. She stepped out the back door, walking a little ways past his home until she stood at the very edge of the treeline.
She stared emptily into the sprawling, impossibly dense canopy of the Great Kira Forest. It was a massive wall of dark wood and ancient shadows.
Crunch.
"Hey."
Roya didn't turn around as the blue-haired guy stepped up beside her.
"You could come with me, if you want," he said casually, tossing a small rock into the woods. "I'm heading that way anyway. The only way to Vael is straight through the Great Kira Forest.
Unless you want to go the long way around, which takes weeks and forces you to walk right through Church-controlled towns."
He crossed his arms, looking down at her.
"So? What are you going to do?"
Roya stared at the horizon. The setting sun cast a brilliant, fiery glow over the ancient trees. Her mind raced, snapping into its usual strategic gears. She needed protection.
She needed a guide. And this arrogant jackass was the strongest person she had ever met.
(Pride won't keep me alive,) she thought.
Roya took a step back, turned to face him, and bowed her head deeply.
"You have already helped me a lot," she said, her voice crystal clear and devoid of hesitation. "But I will be completely shameless and ask this of you: Please. Take me with you."
A strange, deafening silence hung in the air.
Roya kept her head bowed. One second passed. Then two.
"Hey—hey, stop that!" he suddenly stammered, his usually smooth voice cracking.
Roya peeked up. The blue-haired guy was aggressively running a hand through his hair, looking awkwardly away. His signature smug face was entirely flushed, completely thrown off by her sudden, genuine display of respect.
"You're making me look like the bad guy here!" he complained, thoroughly embarrassed. "Fine, whatever, you can come with me. Just stand up straight, alright?"
Roya slowly stood up. She watched him forcefully try to regain his cool, smug composure, his annoyingly handsome face glazing beautifully in the warm,
golden rays of the setting sun.
Seeing him perfectly framed in that majestic, picturesque light, a single thought echoed in her mind.
(God... I really, really wish I could just punch that perfect face of his.)