Fragha finally clawed his way out of the bushes, hair full of leaves. He rose slowly, brushing off his sleeves with exaggerated care, his expression flat and unreadable. Then, without warning, he let a thin thread of pressure bleed out from his Intimidation Aura skill.
"Oh?" he said, voice low and pleasant in a way that was somehow worse than shouting. "So you're brave enough to step on me now, are you?"
The air seemed to thicken. Hans, who still carried the scars of the one time this exact skill had knocked him flat on the training field, went white as chalk. He didn't even try to look dignified about it — he practically dove behind Ivan's broad frame, peeking out from behind one massive shoulder like a child hiding from a thunderstorm.
"B-Boss!" His voice cracked on the word. "It was a joke! Just a joke, I swear! Please forgive me!"
Fragha held the aura for another moment, just long enough to watch Hans squirm, then let it dissipate with a quiet exhale. The oppressive weight in the air vanished, and Hans nearly collapsed with relief, his knees visibly weak.
"Alright, alright," Fragha said, clenching his fist and pointing it at Hans with a look that was half-threatening, half-resigned. "I'll let it slide. But only if you finish that weapon prototype I told you about. We've got more than enough funding now thanks to the cave, so there's no excuse. Get it done."
Hans let out a long, defeated breath, shoulders slumping like a man accepting his fate. "Yeah, yeah, boss... I'll get it done... hufff." He dragged a hand down his face.
Off to the side, Oderick and Ivan exchanged a look and both broke into quiet grins, clearly enjoying the show far too much to intervene.
Once the mood settled, Ivan cleared his throat and turned serious. "Actually, boss, speaking of the cave — with a deposit that rich, we're going to need skilled miners. People who actually know what they're doing." He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "I used to know someone. An old contact. Truth is, I lost touch with him a long time ago, but if my memory serves, last I heard he was in Morris, the fortress city."
Hans's head popped up at that. "Wait — Morris? Funny you mention it, Viktor and Hana are actually headed there right now." He dug through his coat pocket and pulled out a small, faintly glowing communication orb, holding it up with a satisfied smirk.
Fragha's eyebrows shot up. "Hold on, you have one of those too?"
"Obviously," Hans said, puffing out his chest. "I was a professor, you know. A little magic tech is nothing."
He gave the orb a light tap, murmuring the activation words under his breath. It hummed softly, light pulsing at its core, and after a few seconds Hana's voice crackled through, a little tinny but clear enough.
As it turned out, she and Viktor hadn't reached Morris yet — they'd run into some trouble along the way.
"Hans? What is it?"
"Hana!" Hans leaned closer to the orb. "Where are you right now? Have you reached Morris yet?"
A pause. "Not yet. We ran into some trouble on the road. The carriage wheel broke—we've been stuck here for almost an hour trying to fix it."
Hans relayed the information to Ivan, who nodded and stepped closer.
Ivan relayed his instructions, his tone shifting into something more businesslike. "Tell Viktor to head to a bar on the outskirts of Morris. He's looking for an old man named Helmut. Tell him I need to speak with whoever runs the Miners' Guild there — and make sure Viktor's clear that this request is coming directly from Ivan Gregor. That name should open doors."
Viktor took the instructions in stride, though at that particular moment he had bigger problems — namely, a broken carriage wheel that refused to cooperate. He crouched beside it, wrench in hand, muttering under his breath as he tried to work the cracked axle loose. Luck was on their side, though: a small procession of traveling nobles happened to pass by on the same road, and upon seeing their trouble, offered up a spare wheel without much fuss.
While the repairs were underway, Hana clicked the communication orb shut and slipped it back into her bag. That was when the door of the nobles' carriage swung open — an elegant, lacquered thing far too fine for the dusty road it was parked on — and a young woman stepped down, smoothing her skirts.
Hana blinked, and then noticed the emblem pinned to the woman's collar. She glanced down at her own badge instinctively. The Eldun Magic Academy crest. Same as mine.
Hana's hand moved instinctively to her own collar, where an identical badge rested against the fabric.
The young noblewoman noticed the gesture at once. Her painted lips curved into a warm, genuine smile, and she approached Hana with the kind of unhurried confidence that came from never having been made to wait for anything in her life.
"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," she said, stopping a respectful distance away. Her voice was light and musical, carrying no hint of condescension. "I thought I recognized that badge. You're a student at Eldun as well?"
"I am. I'm on my way there now, actually." She offered a small, polite bow of her head. "My name is Hana."
"I'm Celine Arzhieva," the young woman replied, returning the nod with practiced elegance. Her eyes swept over the damaged carriage, then settled back on Hana's face with a gleam of practical assessment. "Your wheel might hold, but it's going to slow you down considerably. The roads between here and Eldun only get rougher further ahead."
"You're headed to the Academy too, aren't you?" Celine said, tilting her head.
"Yes," Hana said. "We're on our way to Eldun."
"Well, my carriage is going the same direction," Celine said, gesturing toward the polished vehicle behind her. "Why don't you ride with me? It'll be much faster than waiting for repairs, and the roads ahead aren't the safest right now."
Hana hesitated. Her gaze flicked toward Viktor, "I appreciate the offer, but my—"
"Will be fine," Viktor cut in, not unkindly. He straightened up with a grunt and tucked the cloth into his belt. His weathered face creased into a rare, faint smile. "The wheel's fixed. I can handle things from here. You should go, Hana. This is a good opportunity. No sense in you sitting on a slow cart when a faster road's right in front of you."
See?" Celine tilted her head, honey-colored eyes bright with amusement. "Even your escort agrees. Come on. I really don't mind, honestly. The carriage gets lonely with just me and my books."
Viktor was a little offended. But he only reacted in his mind. Your escort? How can someone as rich as me be considered her escort?
Hana chewed her lower lip, turning the offer over in her mind. Viktor was right—traveling with a noble's carriage would cut days off her journey. And there was something disarming about Celine's easy smile, the complete lack of pretense in the way she extended the invitation.
"Alright," Hana said at last, exhaling a small breath. "Thank you. I'll take you up on that."
Celine's smile widened into something genuinely pleased. "Wonderful."
She turned and gestured toward her carriage. A footman sprang into motion, pulling open the polished door and lowering the step. Hana gathered her traveling bag and slung it over one shoulder, then paused to look back at Viktor.
With that settled, the two young women climbed into Celine's carriage, leaving Viktor and the rest of his small group behind on the roadside, still crouched over the nearly-finished repair, wheel just about ready to roll again.