Wizard from The Modern

Innate in the distance, the differing conditions of various realms could aptly sate the adventurous spirit of a young maiden. To accompany a caravan served a dual purpose, offering her protection from hardships and the dangers posed by deceitful strangers.

Thus, over the course of the past month, under her father's subtle machinations, she traversed the journey with ease. Now, within her heart, she conceived a plan to regale her companions in Myron with tales of her adventures, longing to impress them.

Imagining the astonished expressions that would adorn her friends' faces as they heard her accounts, Melissa couldn't help but chuckle. Yet just before the laughter could escape her lips, she spied a fully armed contingent of soldiers encircling the caravan, watched as the second heir of a minor baron began to "strut his stuff."

Unable to suppress her indignation, Melissa, though too timid to confront Richard directly, launched a tirade of invectives behind his back.

"Humph! Who does he think he is? Acting all high and mighty! In Myron, even a title eludes him, yet here he prances about. It's only in this backward place, with a few brutish soldiers at his disposal, that he dares to flaunt his so-called power. If only…"

As Melissa continued her complaints, a boy of similar age approached her, eager to ingratiate himself. "Precisely, precisely! You speak the truth, Miss Melissa! That fellow is utterly ignorant!"

This youth, named Amy, was but a year older than Melissa, yet his standing was leagues apart. He hailed from the lower class, having endured the trials of poverty; orphaned since infancy, he seldom indulged in a proper meal, sometimes reduced to stealing to stave off hunger, only to be beaten when caught. Thus, he managed to scrape through more than a decade of hardship, and by a stroke of fortune, he became a hired guard for the Bauhinia Merchants' Guild.

This journey marked his first departure from Myron, his heart thrumming with anxiety and excitement—as he learned that the guild's lady had chosen to accompany him, he nearly felt as if he could jump for joy.

In his eyes, a golden opportunity had arisen: by forming a connection with Miss Melissa, he might ascend to greatness within the Bauhinia Guild. Thus, on the road, he busied himself tending to her needs, ensuring her comfort, thereby courting her favor, and indeed, Melissa seemed satisfied.

Yet, despite her gratitude, Melissa had offered him no recognition—no simple promise to treat him fairly. Instead, on occasions when his service fell short, her frown inflicted distress upon him.

Mular, the caravan's overseer, observed all of this with keen eyes, fully aware of Amy's intentions but refraining from interference. Mular contemplated reporting his observations accurately to the owner of the Bauhinia Guild upon their return to Myron, allowing the owner to make a judgment. In his view, while Amy's labor was commendable, his character was lacking—too self-serving. Miss Melissa might assist Amy marginally, but Mular knew well the danger of becoming too entangled with the lad.

Had Amy known Mular's thoughts, he assuredly would have vowed to eliminate him. But ignorant of the overseer's musings, Amy persisted in his efforts to win Melissa over.

Listening to Melissa berate Richard, Amy quickly chimed in, "You are quite right, Miss Melissa! That fellow is nothing but a country bumpkin, lacking in worldly experience. Truth be told, he may not even know where Myron is!"

"Really?" Melissa queried, still skeptical.

"Indeed, entirely true!" To impress her, he exaggerated his expression. "Perhaps that blundering fool thinks Myron is merely a distant village, which explains his audacity."

Melissa, upon hearing Amy's words, paused in surprise before erupting into fits of laughter. The more she contemplated, the harder she laughed, playfully striking her fist against Amy.

Amy bore her onslaught with a façade of calm; despite desperately fighting the urge to retch, he maintained a cheerful facade, laughing alongside her, "Ha ha, indeed!"

From a distance, Richard, who had been observing Tuku's camp preparations, furrowed his brow slightly and cast a glance towards the caravan. Others may have remained oblivious to the mocking words, but his enhanced perception, sharpened through meditation, allowed him to discern their taunts. Yet, he opted not to respond, simply shaking his head and moving aside.

The night passed in silence.

As dawn broke the next day, the First Guard assembled, mounted upon their steeds, awaiting the call to depart. However, they lingered for some time as the caravan remained inactive.

Seated astride his horse, Richard turned to survey the caravan and noted several drowsy workers yawning as they tackled the disassembly of tents. A few unhurriedly stuffed food into their mouths while transporting cargo.

Nearby, Amy, having just finished relieving himself beneath the trees, staggered towards the campsite, absentmindedly wiping his hands across his clothes. He picked up a hard, dry flatbread and shoved it into his mouth.

At the epicenter of the camp, the largest tent flapped open, and a bleary-eyed Melissa wobbled out, clamoring for water to wash her face and brush her teeth, voicing her complaint, "Uncle Mular? Uncle Mular! Why must we rise so early today? I don't feel like I've had enough sleep!"

Mular approached with a basin of water, handing it to Melissa with a sigh, "Miss Melissa, the sun has already risen well. You should hasten to clean up; we must pack the camp and load the carts to set off immediately."

"We are leaving now?!" Melissa exclaimed as if she had heard something preposterous. "But I haven't eaten breakfast yet!"

"Uh… um…" Mular hesitated momentarily, then proposed a compromise, "Well, we can eat on the road."

"But eating while traveling will upset my stomach! Riding is quite jarring; I might choke on my food," Melissa replied seriously.

Upon hearing this, Mular wore a pained expression, taking a moment before responding, "Then, it would be best if you sat in the cart. It will be more stable there."

Once those words left his lips, Mular dared not linger, fearing she might propose more vexing inquiries. He promptly turned and moved away, urging the workers to hasten in loading the goods onto the carts.

In that fleeting moment, Mular felt a deep sense of resignation; despite Miss Melissa's many admirable qualities—lacking the airs of nobility or its caprices—her wilfulness often left him exasperated. This venture was not a mere excursion; it was business!

With a resigned shake of his head, Mular raised his voice and bellowed, "Quickly now, all of you! Don't dawdle!"

At last, by mid-morning, the caravan finally set off, while Richard had been waiting at the roadside for over half an hour. At that moment, though his expression remained unchanged, the First Guard members visibly simmered, with Tuku even reaching for his knightly sword.