Chương 89: 36-2.Pet Knight

"Wandering Battle-Monks do not typically limit their training to staff work alone." Kuroga straightened slightly at that, responding like someone who had finally been asked a question that resembled proper business.

"Correct. My disciplines include traveling staff techniques, short-step evasion, and the standard caravan escort and road protection doctrines." He paused, then added more quietly: "Though I haven't formally carried a monastery banner in many years. Commerce has proven more... suitable to my temperament."

"Commerce that led you all the way into Angel City?" Jessi delivered the immediate follow-up strike.

"A man has to eat," Kuroga said, with the resigned expression of someone who has fully accepted his fate. Olivia gave a single nod — the particular nod of someone repositioning a piece on a board they had been studying for some time.

"So you are not merely our guide," she said with perfect composure.

"You are also capable of providing escort services." Kuroga probably heard everything embedded in that sentence that he did not wish to hear. Nonetheless, he could only brace himself and answer:"... I am."

"Excellent," Olivia said with aristocratic finality.

"Then from this point forward, your role extends beyond navigation. For the remainder of our journey to Cliff Fort, you will share responsibility for perimeter watch and close-quarters defense." Kuroga opened his mouth. No words emerged. Jessi produced a cold, satisfied laugh beside him.

"Congratulations, Master Monk. That comfortable little performance you've been maintaining has officially expired." Kuroga's entire face sagged in defeat.

"I knew nothing good would come from admitting this..." Despite his complaints, the oppressive atmosphere that Julian's earlier performance had left in the room seemed to have dispersed somewhat during this exchange. Olivia did not allow that sense of relief to linger. She closed the leather case on the table and began issuing arrangements with crisp efficiency.

"We depart within half an hour. Replenish water, feed, medical supplies, and travel rations — anything lacking, acquire it now. Her Royal Highness Princess Erina and Adeline will travel in separate carriages. We will not seat our visible complication alongside our concealed one. Until we reach Cliff Fort's perimeter, we acknowledge no one claiming to arrive 'under orders' unless circumstances leave us no alternative." No one objected.

Because everyone understood that the one thing we absolutely could not afford was remaining here to wait for Julian's return engagement. For the next half hour, we essentially dismantled our presence at the inn and reconstructed it for the road. Lucas inspected the carriage shafts and wheels. Matthews cross-checked routes and timing.

Jessi helped relocate supplies while simultaneously subjecting Kuroga to continuous interrogation — working through everything from which monastery did you train at to was that time you got knocked down deliberately staged — until his tail maintained a permanently drooped position. Erina, meanwhile, had gone considerably quieter than before. She stopped asking questions that currently had no answers — who will come for me, what awaits — and simply allowed her attendant to adjust her traveling attire.

Before boarding, she even went to personally inspect the newly replenished water skins and field rations herself. Watching her do that, something occurred to me. She had probably finally understood what she was traveling alongside. Not just her own life, extracted from Angel City. But other people's troubles. Other people's secrets. And an entire thread of darkness already reaching toward the Capital. By the time we were genuinely back on the road, the morning had fully established itself.

Raddale's improbably clean morning air rushed through the carriage windows, and the storefronts along the street were opening their doors one by one. If I hadn't just encountered Julian's face at the inn entrance, I might almost have convinced myself this was an ordinary day of travel. I shared the main carriage with Olivia and Adeline. Erina had taken the forward vehicle, with two people assigned to accompany her — nominally as protection, functionally as a diplomatic buffer.

Kuroga had originally intended to ride outside, but Jessi had, for reasons known only to herself, insisted on positioning herself wherever he was, announcing that the road ahead provided ample time for continued questioning. Even through the carriage wall, I felt preemptive sympathy for Kuroga. As we rolled out of Raddale, I lifted the curtain edge for one brief backward glance. The inn, the street, the morning market figures — all of it fell away behind us. Then the road to Cliff Fort opened ahead.

Compared to the wasteland surrounding Angel City, this region was noticeably civilized. The road had been properly maintained. Hoofprint impressions from regular patrols marked the verges. Warning beacons stood on distant hills. It turned out that security was something you could actually observe with your own eyes. Olivia glanced out briefly, then said with perfect aristocratic composure:"The closer one draws to Cliff Fort, the better the roads become.

The complications tend to grow more presentable in direct proportion." I let the curtain fall.

"Is it beyond your capabilities to say something that doesn't make people feel worse?"

"Certainly not." She turned her head to regard me.

"For instance: should anyone attempt to intercept us today, they will at least not be quite as conspicuously incompetent as the Wave Garrison."

"... How is that more reassuring?" Adeline, who had been sitting in composed silence across from us, actually had the corner of her mouth twitch at that exchange. Very faintly. So faintly she might not have realized it herself. Apparently even she was beginning to feel that our traveling party had accumulated an unusually high density of peculiar individuals. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Olivia didn't continue the teasing.

She tapped the edge of the map resting on her knee with one fingertip.

"Julian's approach today was not to retrieve Her Highness," she said with the particular clarity of someone laying out a tactical assessment.

"It was to establish position first. Had we lost composure at the inn entrance, he would have returned with a very polished narrative for whichever faction dispatched him." She paused.

"However, his withdrawal also confirmed something else."

"Which is?"

"That at minimum two factions are currently positioned within the fortress," she said.

"One moved early, fearing the other would reach Her Highness first. The other has not yet acted — and likely considers the first beneath serious consideration." I frowned.

"Meaning that if we had actually handed Erina over to Julian today, it would have been precisely the worst possible decision."

"Precisely," Olivia said with aristocratic certainty.

"Because that would not have constituted returning Her Highness to proper order. It would have amounted to delivering her directly into someone's private collection." Adeline spoke quietly from her position across the carriage.

"Then our escorting Her Highness along this road toward Cliff Fort appears equally dangerous to outside observers." I looked at her. Her color remained poor, but her voice carried none of yesterday's uncertainty. Someone who had been pulled off an auction stage as merchandise less than twenty-four hours ago, and was already thinking with this degree of political clarity — even I found that genuinely impressive. Olivia inclined her head.

"Correct. Which is why our immediate priority is not arriving at the fortress gates quickly — it is ensuring that neither faction defines our role before we choose to walk through them."

"That sounds exhausting," I muttered.

"Capital affairs are exhausting by design," she replied with perfect composure.

"The only variable is whether people record their exhaustion in official documents or wear it as carefully maintained smiles." I was about to respond when Jessi's voice drifted in from outside the carriage.

"Don't try to deflect! I asked which temple you were registered with, not whether you prefer your soup salted!" Followed immediately by Kuroga, who sounded perilously close to genuine distress.

"I'm not deflecting! I genuinely spent three years at the Sandgate Monastery on the southern route, then traveled north with a pilgrim escort— hey, stop pulling my cloak!"

"Three years?" Jessi's voice climbed.

"You developed those two strikes from three years of training? Who exactly do you think you're fooling?"

"I had foundation training before that!"

"What foundation?"

"Family foundation!" I lost the battle to maintain composure and started laughing properly. Olivia looked over at me with mild curiosity.

"You find that amusing?"

"Very," I said honestly.

"Considerably easier on the ears than Julian's face was on the eyes." She held my gaze for two beats, and then — remarkably — didn't disagree. The wheels found their rhythm against the road surface. The morning cold was beginning to soften toward something warmer. The horses' breathing settled into steady, even patterns. From the forward carriage, Erina's voice occasionally drifted back — quiet, but no longer carrying the rigid tension of someone bracing against the next blow. She was recalibrating herself.

Transitioning from Princess cornered at an inn entrance back to person who knows how to enter a city, how to receive people, and how not to fall into anyone's hands before she chooses to. In our carriage, Olivia's analysis continued. She traced the road line toward Cliff Fort on the map with one fingertip.

"Once we reach the fortress perimeter," she said with characteristic precision, "if those who come to formally receive Her Highness present themselves appropriately, we examine their documentation, their seals, their escort composition. If they do not present themselves appropriately—""We refuse to hand her over?" I asked.

"We allow Her Highness to speak for herself," Olivia replied.

"Her refusal carries considerably more weight than any we might offer." I nodded, and realized — with a degree of discomfort I wasn't prepared to examine closely — that I had begun waiting, quite naturally, for her to finish outlining each step before I considered what to do next. That realization was probably more significant than I was willing to admit.

She appeared entirely unaware of my internal observation, simply folding the map away with unhurried precision, her voice maintaining that register of aristocratic authority that she wielded like a perfectly balanced blade.

"Until then, Lord Cedric — I must ask for your forbearance."

"Forbearance regarding what?" She gave me a brief, sideways glance.

"Regarding your impulse to actually cut down the next person we encounter who proves even more deserving of it than Julian." I was quiet for a moment.

"... Is that a specific prediction?"

"No," Olivia said with perfect calm.

"Simply the most reasonable preparation I can make." Outside, the interrogation continued unabated.

"So that time in the alley when those two drunks chased you for three blocks — that was also performance?"

"That time I genuinely did not want to fight!"

"Liar!" Kuroga, apparently having finally reached his limit, actually raised his voice — a rare occurrence.

"Wandering Battle-Monks are still people! If a situation can be resolved without taking unnecessary cuts, why would anyone choose otherwise?" I leaned back against the carriage wall, listening to the ongoing argument outside, then looked at the two people across from me — one coldly mapping the political terrain ahead with the detachment of someone issuing judicial verdicts, the other having descended from an auction block yesterday and already sitting straight again with renewed purpose.

Somewhere between Angel City and this moment, our traveling party had definitively stopped being anything that could reasonably be described as normal. I was beginning to suspect it never would be again. Since we had paid for the rooms, there was no reason to spend the night in sleepless vigilance. More importantly — now that we were within the Capital's outer protection zone, even the inns had begun collecting per-head taxes. Money already spent.

Staying awake all night looking like fugitives would only make us appear both foolish and unprofitable on our investment. So before the city gates closed, I made one final solo excursion — to a courier station. Not the official imperial post. A private one. Small establishment. The man behind the counter had the look of someone chronically short on sleep, but his eyes were considerably sharper than his expression suggested. I didn't waste words.

I placed a large silver coin on the counter, wrote a brief note, folded it carefully, and slid both across.

"Express delivery," I said.

"Before the gates close." The man glanced at the coin, then at the folded slip. He asked no questions. He simply pocketed both. Establishments like this — where the person taking your money also understood the value of not asking questions — were worth remembering for future reference. By the time I returned to the inn, the distant church bells were already beginning to toll the evening hour. One stroke. Then another. Each note deep and resonant enough to press the entire city into momentary stillness.

I stood by the window until the final tone faded, then slowly released the breath I had been managing since our arrival. The Capital's curfew was not ornamental. This wasn't Angel City's version — the kind of rule that existed primarily to give the watch something to shout at drunks. This law had genuine enforcement. It didn't matter who you were or what your station might be. Found outside after curfew without proper authorization, you were detained and questioned.

Even a knight whose authority rested on polished armor and a face that had opened doors at court would find himself equally constrained. Whatever Julian was planning for his next move would have to wait until morning. I returned to the room and gave the others a brief nod.

"It's done," I said.

"Tonight, at least, we can rest." Some of the perpetual tension left Lucas's expression — which typically suggested a man one breath away from expiring. Matthews said nothing, simply returned the last item in his hands to its proper place. Erina exhaled and allowed herself to settle into her chair, finally abandoning the rigid public-facing posture she had maintained throughout the day. Olivia motioned me aside with a subtle gesture.

"... Arrangements completed?" she asked quietly. I looked at her and couldn't quite suppress a slight smile.

"You'll see the results tomorrow."

"Tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow we take shelter at my sister's estate for a few days," I said, then caught myself mid-sentence.

"Her husband — what was his name again... Black... something..."

"The Duke of Blackwell," Olivia supplied with perfect composure.

"House Blackwell." The corner of my mouth twitched. Of course she knew. Back when we had been forced to memorize the Imperial Peerage Registry, she had been the one holding the correction rod while I struggled through the recitations.

"Right, that one," I said, clearing my throat.

"She married into the family — eldest or second son, I can't recall which. Her husband spends most of the year stationed at the front lines anyway, so we're unlikely to encounter him." Olivia went quiet for a moment. Not from apprehension — more the reflexive tightening of someone who had just heard a name too formal and too significant, carrying too much weight to be casually ignored. I watched that brief flicker cross her expression and added:"Don't overthink it.

My sister isn't like the rest of that side of the family. She's... genuinely decent people." Olivia met my gaze and didn't respond immediately. After two beats, she gave a small nod.

"... I understand." I had been about to say something more — something reassuring, or perhaps something more honest about what awaited us. But by the time the words reached my mouth, they seemed unnecessary. Everything that needed doing tonight had been accomplished. The urgent message was sent. The people who needed to be kept outside were constrained by the curfew. What remained wasn't the sort of thing that would become simpler through extended conversation at this hour.