Chapter 33: A Fanciful Lady in the Wilderness
"What happened?" Hearing the woman's voice, Arthur quickened his steps. Kolgrim's monster-knowledge crash course from last night had included the fact that some intelligent monsters could disguise themselves as humans. Could he really have stumbled upon one?
But when he rounded the corner, he immediately dismissed the doubt.
It was a gorgeously dressed woman of about thirty, standing in front of a draft horse. The boy beside her was squatting on the ground, intently wiping snot onto his silver fox fur collar.
It probably wasn't a monster; they showed no magical fluctuations, and monsters wouldn't wear such intricate clothing.
"Madam, my carriage has been chartered by my passengers. If you wish to ride, you should discuss it with them, not take out your frustration on me, the coachman." The coachman advised patiently, but the woman's voice was loud and her pace of speech was fast, making it impossible to hear what she was saying.
"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Arthur unslung the hand-and-a-half sword onto his back, intending to clarify the situation first. Although the other party was a bit rude, since she was a human, he couldn't leave a mother and child stranded in this uninhabited forest.
The woman was startled and quickly pulled her son up, her gaze darting across Arthur's shoulders: "Who are you? Why are you carrying weapons here? I warn you, I am a Knight's Lady!"
Arthur said casually: "Alright, esteemed Knight's Lady, please relax. We are all good citizens of Vizima and are planning a pleasure trip to the South. The forests around here are full of monsters, so what's so strange about carrying weapons?"
He then looked closely at the noblewoman: "Speaking of strange, you brought your son into these woods without even a bodyguard! That's strange!"
The Knight's Lady's face went pale. She stiffened her neck and said: "Stop trying to scare me. I've traveled this road for over a decade and have never seen a monster!"
Her tone suddenly softened: "Our carriage broke down on the road. In the name of fellowship and mutual aid, please give me and my child a lift!"
Arthur chuckled: "Get in. Where are you going?"
Though the woman was lavishly dressed, she was surprisingly strong. She effortlessly lifted her son under the ribs and heaved him into the carriage compartment, but she turned back and started walking forward herself: "My luggage is still in the carriage. Come help."
Her carriage was around the bend, a dozen steps ahead. Perhaps she had taken the corner too fast; one of the wheels was completely broken.
"Where is your coachman?" Arthur frowned. There were no servants near the carriage, not even a coachman. This seemed far too meager for a Knight's Lady's travel arrangements.
"Ah… don't mention it. That coward! The moment he heard a sound in the woods, he ran off without a trace," the woman paused for a second, then quickly offered an explanation and started gathering her luggage.
It was evident she had been waiting for a long time. All the large and small pieces of luggage in the carriage were already bundled with hemp rope. All she had to do was place them on the back of the draft horses and unhitch the harness to move them to Arthur's caravan. The entire process was incredibly smooth.
"You're very familiar with horses!" The woman was remarkably quick. Arthur had just finished placing her luggage in the carriage compartment, and the two draft horses were already integrated into the caravan's shafts.
But Arthur's remark had a hidden meaning this woman was far too adept at manual labor; she didn't seem like an aristocrat accustomed to a life of ease.
The woman smugly arched her finely plucked eyebrows: "That's nothing! When I was young, this old girl… I was the Vizima suburb's carriage rally champion!"
"Impressive, impressive!" Arthur's clapping and cheers made her even more delighted, but the smugness didn't last long before she let out a sharp cry and yanked her son over to spank his bottom the little brat had pulled out the two-handed sword from the carriage.
"Why are you carrying so many dangerous weapons with you!" The woman looked at Arthur with displeasure. The little boy had almost cut his finger.
"That? That's how I earn my keep." Arthur made a face at the sniveling boy, trying to gloss over it, but the woman became alert:
"Are you a mercenary? How much would it cost to hire you for a day?"
Arthur had no idea what the going rate for a mercenary was, so he just threw out a number: "Ten Crowns."
"That's expensive!" the little boy interjected amidst his busy schedule of snot-wiping. "We hired a guy with two swords before, and he only asked for three Crowns a day!"
"Shut up!" The woman's palm made a crisp sound against the boy's bottom. "Didn't you see this gentleman's sword is bigger than everyone else's? People with swords like that get double the pay!"
She then looked up at Arthur: "We intend to hire you as a bodyguard, at the price you quoted. Your duty will be to protect my son and me until we reach Novigrad. Do you accept?"
That was a generous price, equivalent to Kolgrim killing a nest of Drowners every day. But…
"Are you going the wrong way? Novigrad is in the North, and we are heading South." (Novigrad, an independent city located on the border of Temeria and Redania.)
He expected the woman to sit back down in disappointment, but she didn't give up: "I know, but it's more convenient to take a teleportation portal from Maribor…"
"Vizima also has a teleportation portal!" Adda's sudden interjection completely disrupted the woman's train of thought. She stuttered for a while before saying with annoyance: "I have my own reasons! Why are you refusing the Crowns?"
Arthur hadn't planned on being a bodyguard anyway, and the woman's evasiveness only increased his suspicion: "I apologize, but I cannot accept an assignment of unknown origin. However, you are still welcome to ride in our carriage to the nearest posthouse."
"By Melitele, what is wrong with me today, that someone would push aside gold coins right in front of them!" The woman held up a coat of arms and angrily rebuked: "My husband is His Majesty Foltest's Knight of the Throne! If anything happens to my son or me on the road, you will all be held responsible!"
It was a bad move to bring that up. Arthur's ears perked up at the words 'Knight of the Throne.'
But when he glanced at the coat of arms, he almost burst out laughing.
The shield-shaped crest in the woman's hand had no animals on it, only a silver lily on a blue background the national emblem of Temeria.
Arthur struggled to keep a straight face and said earnestly: "So you are the wife of a Knight of the Throne. May I ask which distinguished lord performed the investiture ceremony for him?"
Seeing Arthur's serious attitude, the woman gave a proud huff: "Sir Milhouse. He performed the investiture for my husband at Glory Square. Half the nobles in Vizima attended the ceremony that day."
"I see." Arthur nodded, stifling a laugh, and continued to tease her: "Then you certainly don't need to waste money hiring me. I would be happy to escort you to the nearest posthouse free of charge. There, a simple wave of your hand will recruit a large number of people who live by the sword."
"Fine, I will mention your noble character to my husband." Seeing that Arthur was absolutely unwilling to be hired, the woman sighed and sat back in her seat.
But her surrender was only temporary. The further they went, the more obvious the anxiety in her expression became. She offered an increasingly higher price, and her target was no longer limited to Arthur but to everyone in the caravan.
The road ahead became straight and open, and a posthouse slowly emerged from the withered branches.
"We've arrived at the posthouse, Madam. Perhaps you can recruit the help you need here." Arthur jumped off the carriage and gestured for the fake noblewoman to alight.
The woman tremblingly stepped out. The moment her feet touched the ground, her whole body violently jolted. She scrambled back into the carriage awning, pleading with Arthur: "I'll give you a hundred Crowns! Keep going forward!"
Her face was deathly pale, as if the posthouse were not a resting place but a gallows.
...............
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