Wizard from The Modern

Four days hence.

A column of riders sped along the roadway.

At the center sat Richard, tranquil and composed. Clinging to Richard's waist was young maid Lucy, who curiously observed the world around her, occasionally exclaiming, "Master, look! There's a huge bird over there!"

"Master, look! There's a rabbit!"

"Master…"

The members of the First Guard flanked Richard in silence. Among them, Tuku advanced at the forefront, ever vigilant, while Hughes, still recuperating from his injuries, trailed at the back of the procession.

The party moved swiftly; in the span of four days, they journeyed from the castle to the northernmost extent of the Baron's lands.

At this moment, Tuku's keen gaze sweeped the surrounding area, his mind fully alert. After four days on the road without washing or grooming, he had grown noticeably scruffy, the scars on his face appearing freshly deepened, yet fatigue failed to claim his spirit. Suddenly, Tuku's eyes sharpened, and he seized the reins of his galloping steed, pulling it to a halt, causing its front hooves to crash down heavily and leave two circular impressions in the earth.

The procession halted in unison, eyes turning towards him in inquiry.

Ignoring their looks of concern, Tuku instead focused on Richard, pointing ahead towards a stone marker that had been erected. "My lord, past that stone lies Lord Lanster's territory. Do you propose we proceed? The relationship between Lord Lanster and Baron Leo is fraught with tension."

Richard regarded Tuku's words thoughtfully, his gaze briefly flickering.

Indeed, the rapport between Lord Lanster and Baron Leo had not been harmonious, marred by past frictions over territorial borders. Yet no outright conflict had erupted; they maintained a tenuous peace characterized by outward calm yet underlying discord.

Richard weighed both choices: venturing forth into Lanster's lands or remaining idle. While stepping into Lanster's territory posed possible risks, waiting could stretch the timeline indefinitely for the caravan's arrival.

Contemplating, Richard spoke, "On our way here, I observed no substantial traces of wheel tracks, suggesting the caravan must still be within Lord Lanster's domain. Thus, we either await here or proceed to intercept them. Let us move forward," Richard decided as he spurred his mount, crossing past the boundary stone.

Tuku glanced over, opening his mouth as if to voice concern, but ultimately held his tongue. He cracked the whip across his steed's backside, urging it onward, with the rest of the guard hastily following in suite.

And so, the company passed into Lord Lanster's domain.

In this world, the hierarchy of noble titles ascends from duke, marquis, earl, viscount, baron, lord, to knight, yet Lord Lanster's lands boast nearly double the area of the Baron's.

In this medieval tumult, the status and power did not necessarily correlate. There existed dukes with no lands and honor-bound knights possessing vast estates despite lacking noble titles. To assess an individual's territorial extent, one must consider their legacy and abilities far more than their title.

Lord Lanster had inherited considerable wealth from the previous lord, and through sheer ambition and cunning over decades, expanded his domain significantly, encroaching directly upon Baron Leo's lands.

In proximity to Baron Leo's territory, Lanster had repeatedly sought to annex the latter's substantial holdings. Yet Baron Leo was not one to yield easily; the exchanges had left Lanster nursing considerable losses after several skirmishes. Ultimately, thwarted, Lord Lanster was forced to divert his attention to expanding his holdings elsewhere.

With these thoughts swirling, Richard led his forces across Lanster's lands for half a day. As dusk deepened, they beheld a caravan camped by the roadside ahead.

Needless to say, Richard urged his party to approach rapidly.

As they charged forward, the caravan became aware of their presence, recognition and wariness evident among its members as they drew weapons to defend themselves against the potential threats posed by the armored riders.

Yet, upon nearing the caravan, no attack was initiated; instead, caution painted the tense atmosphere, all eyes apprehensively watching.

Richard likewise observed the caravan with keen interest. Scanning swiftly, he appraised their situation: there were just over twenty individuals; two or three appeared to be managers, while the majority seemed to be laborers, yet the seven or eight who bore weapons unmistakably fulfilled the role of guards.

Upon recognizing this, Richard spoke up, querying, "Are you from the Myron Alliance?"

"Uh, yes," said a weathered middle-aged man, perhaps in his forties. He emerged from the group, likely one of the overseers. He wore dusty yellow garments, a cautious glint in his eyes as he nodded in affirmation before retorting, "I am the caravan's overseer, Mular. And you are…?"

Without indulging his inquiry, Richard pressed, "Are you delivering a haul to Baron Leo?"

"Indeed," Mular confirmed. Then, curious about Richard's identity, he ventured, "May I inquire who you are?"

"I hail from Baron Leo's castle; I am his second heir. You may call me Richard Angrel. Given the current state of disorder in this territory, I have come prepared to escort you."

"Ah, I see." Mular nodded, momentarily struck dumb by the revelation, finding himself at a loss for words, for he had never encountered such a situation before.

Richard, comprehending the underlying mistrust and wariness, chose not to pressure them further. "I will not coerce you in any manner; you may remain here and rest as you wish, while my men will set camp beside you without any interference."

"Then that will suffice." Mular visibly relaxed.

"That said, there is one condition: at dawn tomorrow, we must set off."

"Ah?" Mular's brow furrowed.

Yet without further ado, Richard turned away.

Amidst the gathering, a young woman raised her eyes toward Richard, a slight swing of annoyance in her voice as she huffed, "What gives him the right to command our caravan?! We are merchants, not his slaves! Moreover, he's merely a baron's heir—even second in line—how does he presume to strut about with such bravado? How ridiculous!" Finishing her outburst, the girl glowered defiantly at Richard's retreating figure, casting an indignant glare.

This girl, named Melissa, was a unique presence within the caravan at seventeen years of age. Her true identity was the daughter of the owner of the Bauhinia Merchants' Guild in the capital of the Myron Alliance. Unlike her peers, she possessed a rebellious spirit, uninterested in demureness, favoring adventures that teetered on the edge of danger. Coupled with her noble status and her father's pampering, she had become something of a local tyrant, striking fear into the hearts of the young men within her circle.

Before long, boredom consumed her, and on a whim, she insisted upon embarking on a genuine escapade. Though her father resisted initially, he ultimately yielded to her charms, yet out of concern for her safety, he had assigned her to accompany the caravan to deliver goods to a moderate noble's estate in the Pure Empire.