After that, Blake and his companions encountered no further troubles. However, upon returning to the inn, Kaster had quietly sought Blake out, saying that the group they were escorting wished to speak with him face-to-face. But Blake had declined the request. He knew exactly what those fools were thinking—now that Kaster and the others knew his identity, they must have believed they had gained a powerful ally. In their minds, with him and Ophelia backing them up, they could return to House Zachary in triumph and claim the position of patriarch.
How naive of them. Blake had no such intentions whatsoever, and he certainly wasn't about to waste his time dealing with them.
That didn't mean, however, that the other party had no desire to deal with him.
Early the next morning, Blake and his entourage left the border town behind, continuing their journey toward their destination. Blake was well aware that the local nobles had no intention of letting him slip away. But since he was heading straight into House Zachary's territory, they could afford to bide their time. After all, their power base lay mostly in the inner regions, not in this backwater border town. So they would wait for him to come to them—and in the meantime, they could gather more information about these two mysterious figures.
The road from the border city to the heart of the plains was far less smooth than anyone had anticipated. Not every lord shared Blake's understanding that "to get rich, first build roads." As a result, the quality of the roads paled in comparison to those in Twilight Forest, leaving everyone in the party exhausted and miserable from the jolting journey. Ophelia in particular suffered greatly. Even in her past life, she had only traveled between the major cities in the kingdom's heartland, where infrastructure was well-developed. She had never imagined roads could be this atrocious.
True, the roads around Twilight Forest had been just as bad before Blake's improvements—but that was a remote, isolated area, so poor infrastructure was understandable. What Ophelia hadn't expected was that the roads within a noble's domain could be in such a dilapidated state. By the end of the day's travel, the poor princess felt as if half her life had been jolted away.
"By the saints," she exclaimed, "I always thought death itself was the height of suffering."
After a full day of being tossed about, Ophelia finally couldn't stand it any longer and called for the caravan to halt. Originally, they had planned to press on through the night and rest at a small town ahead. But no one had anticipated roads this terrible. Even Blake and Kaster, seasoned travelers as they were, were feeling the strain. So they readily agreed with Ophelia—if they kept going like this, even if they reached their destination, everyone would be in no fit state to face whatever lay ahead.
"This used to be a smooth, well-paved highway," Kaster remarked, casting a rather amused glance at the road ahead, now overgrown with weeds and littered with rocks. Traveling on it was nothing short of torture for the horses and carriages alike.
"I heard that after that damned country was defeated in the war, they deliberately destroyed this main road. Looks like it's never been properly repaired all these years."
"What if war breaks out again?" Ophelia frowned, looking up from where she sat by the campfire. She had been admiring the beautiful night scenery of the wilderness, but Kaster's words instantly sobered her.
"With roads in this condition, there's no way to move troops efficiently. If something happens, it'll take forever to mobilize reinforcements."
"That's not our problem to worry about, milady," Kaster replied with a chuckle, glancing at Ophelia. From her hair color alone, he was certain she was of royal blood, so it didn't surprise him that she cared about such matters. He himself had never given it much thought, though—roads were such mundane things that most people paid them little mind.
"Probably the local lord doesn't have the money to fix them. Road repairs cost a fortune, after all, and there's not much profit to be made from them. Lords of small domains like this probably don't even consider it a priority."
Blake raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing. Instead, he shifted his gaze toward a figure emerging from the darkness. Noticing his look, Ophelia and Kaster fell silent and followed his eyes—both of them doing a double take when they saw who it was.
Standing before them was a boy no older than ten. He was the heir to House Zachary, the young master they were escorting. At that moment, he approached them with a shy, hesitant expression, his young face betraying a hint of unease.
"Good evening, young master Zachary. It's late—what brings you here?" Blake asked, glancing over at the campfire. Everyone had already eaten dinner and should have been resting. What could this boy want, coming to them alone at this hour?
"G-good evening... honored sir, and beautiful lady," the boy stammered, flushing bright red as he performed a rather clumsy noble's bow to Blake and Ophelia. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"I... I came to thank you both. Thank you for helping me. If it weren't for you, I... I would've been captured by those bad men."
"Please don't worry, young master Zachary," Blake replied with a smile.
"We have an agreement, and we will see you safely back to your family. Rest assured—while the journey may have its troubles, these minor inconveniences will not stand in our way."
A flicker of excitement crossed the boy's eyes, and he nodded eagerly.
"Thank you for your kindness! If I make it back to my family safely, I'll definitely repay you! So, honored sir..."
"It's getting very late," Blake cut him off gently.
"It's dangerous for you to be out here alone. I suggest you return to your carriage and rest. Everyone's tired from the journey—we can discuss anything else tomorrow." He turned to the young woman beside him. "Miss Ophelia, would you please see him back? After all, he's just a child—we wouldn't want anything to happen to him."
"Of course," Ophelia nodded, rising to her feet and giving the boy a warm, gentle smile.
"Come along then. The night air is cold—you'll catch a chill if you stay out too long."
"I'm strong, miss! A little wind won't hurt me!" the boy declared proudly, his face lighting up with excitement when Ophelia held out her hand to him. He puffed out his small chest, took her hand, and walked with her toward the waiting guards of House Zachary nearby.
"Quite an interesting child," Blake commented, turning his gaze back to Kaster.
"Who have they been in contact with lately?"
"The men have kept a close eye on them, my lord. They haven't spoken to anyone outside the group. Those fools have been obeying your orders to the letter, staying in their rooms and rarely venturing out." Kaster replied promptly. He had been working tirelessly to earn Blake's trust these past few days. He glanced again at Ophelia and the boy's retreating figures, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Though I must say, that boy is quite the little womanizer for his age."
"Oh?" Blake raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"How so?"
"Oh, it's nothing major," Kaster chuckled.
"It's just that the men have seen him sneaking touches on the inn maids—pinching their bottoms and whatnot... I don't know how House Zachary ended up with such a lecherous little brat. He's not even ten yet, and already he's such a rascal. When he grows up, the women in his domain are going to be in for a world of trouble..."
"Lust is a man's nature," Blake replied matter-of-factly.
"Responding to a beautiful woman's charm is the highest form of respect you can pay her. Right now, I just hope the young master's taste isn't too low... though it wouldn't do for it to be too high, either."
"You are truly a man of remarkable wit, my lord," Kaster said, his expression twitching slightly at the line about respecting women through lust. If he hadn't been striving to maintain a respectful demeanor in front of his master, he would have burst out laughing on the spot.
"What kind of women has the young master been associating with? I'd rather he didn't try any of his tricks on Ophelia."
"Well..." Kaster was caught off guard by the sudden question. He thought for a moment before answering.
"Just the maids who cleaned his room. Oh, and last night, he was pestering one of the dancers at the inn..."
"Did none of his men try to stop him?"
"Looking at how they act around him—they're half in awe, half terrified of him. They wouldn't dare lift a finger to stop him," Kaster snorted, casting a disdainful glance at the Zachary guards.
"Being ordered around by a snot-nosed kid and not daring to utter a single complaint... I wonder if they even consider themselves men, let alone swordsmen."
"It's late. You should go rest. Don't forget to post the night watch."
"Yes, my lord."
Kaster knew that meant his presence was no longer required. He had hung around after dinner, determined to ingratiate himself with Blake and Ophelia. After all, despite the difference in their stations, being out in the wilderness had made their relationship somewhat more relaxed. If he didn't seize this opportunity now, once they returned to the castle, chances to interact with the two of them at such close quarters would be few and far between. He and his men were merely the garrison of Twilight Forest—they had no right to enter Twilight Castle proper. If he didn't make his move now, all his efforts would be for nothing.
Still, he felt he had made decent progress this evening. So he said no more, turning and hurrying off to check on the night watch he had posted around the caravan. The wilderness was a dangerous place after dark, and if anything went wrong, he would have a lot to answer for.
Watching Kaster leave, Blake didn't linger by the campfire any longer. He turned and climbed into his carriage. Though small, the noble's carriage was warm and comfortable, its thick walls keeping out the night's chill—a decent enough place to rest. The only downside was the lack of space to stretch out, which was rather inconvenient.
*Clang.*
Back inside the carriage, Blake sank onto the soft, plush seat and drew his longsword, studying the pitch-black blade carefully. As the sword left its sheath, a faint white glow once again coiled around it in that eerie, writhing manner. But this time, if one looked closely, they could see a face contorted in agony flickering within the white light from time to time. Amidst the surging energy, it bobbed up and down like driftwood caught in a stormy sea, mouth agape in a silent scream that no mortal ear could hear.
"What a waste," Blake murmured, staring at the soul-light before him. He considered it for a moment, then shook his head.
"Never mind. Higher-ranked souls are easy enough to come by... I can afford to lose this one."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the white light swirling around the sword suddenly began to writhe violently, as if trying to break free from its bonds. But its resistance lasted only a split second. The white light contracted sharply, then was sucked into the black blade completely.
As the light vanished, Blake's right arm—the one that had been holding the sword—suddenly swelled up. His once thin, slender arm ballooned in size, the veins and muscles beneath the skin writhing and bulging as if possessed by a life of their own, expanding until it was as thick as a bowl. Then, before Blake's eyes, the swollen arm rapidly deflated, shrinking back to its original thin, gaunt state.
"This will have to do for now," Blake said, sheathing his sword and flexing his right hand's fingers. He stroked the blade gently, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
"Sorry about this, old friend. Looks like I'll have to put you through a bit more trouble for a while longer."
He muttered the words softly, then put the sword away and looked up. Just then, the carriage door opened again, and Ophelia slipped inside like an elegant, ethereal cat, giving him a faint smile.
"Any discoveries?" Blake asked abruptly—but Ophelia clearly understood what he meant.
"He's trying to pry into my background," she replied, shaking her head with a soft sigh.
"I didn't tell him my real identity, but he's already started introducing me to his men on his own accord..."
"A naive little fool," Blake muttered, lowering his head and shrugging his shoulders.
"What do you think he's planning?"
"Exactly the same thing we're planning for him," Ophelia said, a shadow flickering across her bright blue eyes.
"I think we might be in for some trouble."
"Trouble is inevitable—but not insurmountable," Blake snorted coldly.
"Ophelia, I'm leaving the boy in your hands for now. Keep a close eye on our *goods* and assess just how much he's worth. If this young master fails to meet our expectations, then we'll have to start looking for a new buyer to strike a deal with."