Beyond the walls of capital, there stood a vast horizon. Plains, filled with agriculture, was what appeared in their sight. As the carriage continued to travel, the farmlands ended. They faced the wilderness with the only presence of civilization being a paved road.
It took three days before the human-made constructs appeared in their sight once again.
"This is the territory of House Mallow, yes?" Vane asked the coachman, who turned and nodded.
"Indeed, you are right, sir."
Close to the capital and away from the war—Mallow Town was relatively peaceful. As the carriage pulled through the gate under the approval of guards, Isaac witnessed the daily lives of people who seemed to be busy without a worry of war.
The town itself was modest. There was a central market square, a row of inns along the main road, which suggested the architecture of a settlement that had grown organically rather than by plan—buildings added where they were needed rather than where they would look best.
"Finally." Camilla seemed to have complaint bottled up to her throat. Unable to hold it back in any longer, she rambled, "three days. Three days of sleeping in the dirt like beggars. I cannot fathom what possessed the Academy to believe this was an acceptable standard for students of my caliber—"
"It was camping, woman," Randal said, from the back of the carriage. He had spent the majority of past three days in the space too small for someone of his size, and to see Camilla complaining when she was better off than him seemed to have irritated him. "Normal people camp."
"Normal people," Camilla said, "are not members of House Hedron."
"Normal people also don't complain for three straight days," Randal said.
"I was not complaining. I was stating facts."
"About dirt. For three days."
"The quality of one's sleeping arrangements is directly relevant to one's physical recovery and therefore one's combat readiness," Camilla said fluently as if she had been prepared for this kind of argument. "If the Academy wanted us at our best for this assignment—"
"Please, contain yourselves," Vane said, exhausted. "Let's have some moment of peace for once." He was fed up with the antics of Camilla. However, he knew that if even he were to react the same way Randal did, the team would crumble down. He peeked at Isaac, who was peacefully gazing outside without engaging himself to the conversation, yawning lightly in boredom as he did so. How, Vane wondered.
The carriage slowed at the town's main square. Eventually, the four disembarked the transportation.
Randal unfolded himself from the carriage in relief. As he stretched, the clear noises of bones popping emanated. Straightened up, he looked at the row of inns along the square's edge in familiarity.
"I'll get rooms," he said.
"How many?" Vane asked.
Randal looked at Howe, who was already standing at the carriage's side with the same stillness he carried for the past three days. "You need one?"
Howe said nothing.
"Isn't it tiring to not talk once in three days?" Randal bickered. Howe still said nothing. Instead, he raised his pen and wrote something down.
Camilla snickered at that, "he wrote something about you."
"Fuck." Randal grumbled, "fine, you don't need one. Four rooms it is."
"Four?" Isaac, who has been listening, joined in, "isn't that too many?"
Randal frowned. "What do you mean?"
"One to silence her." Isaac pointed at Camilla. "We share the rest. It'll be a single night's sleep anyway."
Randal shook his head. "Look, Isaac, I've been around this area. The rooms are dirt cheap, and two or four won't make a difference."
"How cheap?"
"One silver per a single day in a room." Randal said as if stating the obvious, "As I said, dirt cheap."
Isaac paused, clearly caught off guard. "…Which inn are you speaking of?"
"That one." The one Randal pointed to was the most luxurious-looking inn among all the options viewable.
"Hmph, the only acceptable one." For once, Camilla seemed to agree with him.
"Dirt cheap." Isaac muttered as if he didn't understand. "A silver is dirt cheap."
Randal raised an eyebrow. Then, he snorted, "oh, I guess to commoners, that's not the case."
A silver is worth thousand coppers or million irons. Isaac genuinely didn't understand them when average daily living costs of commoners remained in tens of iron at best.
"Four." As if there was no room to negotiate, Randal stated before he turned. He walked toward the inn without further discussion.
Vane turned to the coachman, who was descending from the horse carefully. "We'll need you at the town gate tomorrow morning," Vane said. "Before the sixth bell."
"Sixth bell?" Camilla looked bewildered.
"We only have a month to complete this. We have a long way to go." Vane's eyes were sharp. "Can a higher class student not even wake up before the sixth bell?"
Camilla gritted her teeth, clearly annoyed by Vane's words. "Did I argue?" However, she was ignored.
The coachman, a weathered man who had transported enough academy students over the years to know what to expect in this scenario, nodded. "I'll be there."
He led the horse toward the stable at the square's far end.
Isaac stood at the square's edge and looked at the town around him. What is the likelihood that I will be attacked for the third time? For the past two months, the enemies have been quiet. However, now, he was outside the boundary of the academy's protection—not that the academy was that protective of him in the first place.
"What's in your mind, Isaac." Vane asked as he stood by Isaac's side.
Isaac glanced at his peer. Is he a part of the renegade? What of the other two? Seran Crane. Head of House Hedron. House Clodia. House Terra. He had the names of those who betrayed the kingdom and were ill-affiliated with him, but there definitely were far more than what he was aware.
He still didn't understand why those betrayers would be hostile to him straight from the start instead of attempting to coax him to join their side. Nonetheless, they decided to kill him, and he needed to be alert.
This was precisely the reason why he previously suggested two rooms over four. After all, no human could mask his or her true intention over a long period of time, when under the observation of [The Prism]. He wanted to ensure that none within the group were defected.
"Heliosphere." After a moment of silence, he replied to Vane. "We are still far from the ruins. Judging by the current speed, it will take us ten days to arrive the region where the target was last seen. This means that our total time of travel will approximately be twenty days. We only have ten days at maximum to secure the objective."
Vane gave some thoughts to it. He then asked, "won't ten days be enough?"
"Only under the assumptions that we know exactly where the target is and that said target won't leave the expected boundary."
"…Good point." Vane became solemn. His eyes darted as he began to think regarding this topic.
"What then?" Camilla, who was beside Isaac without an announcement, suddenly spoke up. Vane jolted in surprise, while Isaac, having been aware of her presence, turned toward her. "What?" Camilla frowned at Vane as he looked back at her in confusion.
Vane muttered, "this is the first time I've see you speaking in the manner of a civil human being."
"Hah?" Camilla stepped in mild annoyance, but was stopped by Isaac who raised his arm up.
"Calm down." Isaac said lazily, and to Vane's surprise, Camilla did calm down. "And to answer your question, we would need to collect information as we move. We need to keep ourselves updated should any change regarding the Red Wolf occur within this month-long time frame."
Camilla was silent for a moment. Then, she jabbed her finger at Vane.
Vane raised an eyebrow.
"You do it."
"Excuse me?"
"You handle the information gathering process."
Vane sighed as he slicked his hair, "I was planning to do it anyway." He sighed again, deeper, "don't order me around, Camilla Hedron."
"Order? I was merely giving suggestions." Camilla smiled, much to Vane's annoyance.
In the middle of their conversation, Isaac heard foot noises from his back. He turned and found someone approaching them.
"Excuse me."
Said person was a young man in his mid-twenties, well-dressed in a way merchants tend to present themselves. He had the particular manner of someone who had identified a group of people and had a specific thing to say to them.
Camilla and Vane both paused and looked at the man.
"I apologize for the interruption," the man said, with the practiced courtesy of someone for whom the apology was a technique rather than a sentiment. "Are you traveling to the capital?"
"We've come from the capital," Vane said.
"Ah." The young man adjusted smoothly. "Then you'll be heading back eventually." He revealed a small card and held it out in confidence. "In case you haven't heard of us before, we are the Ironway Merchants. We've recently acquired a collection of goods that will be heading to the capital's auction market within the week. We've been inviting… customers who know to appreciate artistry for the chance of purchasing them before they enter auction."
He looked across the group before settling on Camilla.
"As you can tell, we are well-known for items relevant to noble houses with particular needs," he said, with the specific precision of someone who had done the research. "Given the current war conditions, materials that can't be reliably sourced through conventional supply chains have become considerably more valuable. We have several such items in our current inventory."
Camilla's expression had shifted across the man's speech from mild irritation at being approached to the specific regard of someone who had heard something that interested her and was deciding whether to show it.
"What manner of items?" She asked.
"I'd prefer to show you," he said, "rather than describe. We have a display set up at the Mallow Town merchant hall, which is a five-minute walk from here. We'll be packing tonight and departing before dawn. After that, everything goes to auction."
Camilla looked at Isaac. Isaac looked back at her stoically.
"Not interested." Vane gave his immediate rejection. "I'll wait for Randal. Then see if I can gather some information." he said. "Going alone isn't a good idea. Isaac. If you don't mind…"
"Sure." There was no delay in Isaac accepting Vane's request. After all, he had curiosity of his own, given how the name 'Ironway Merchants' wasn't new to him.
"My family and relatives are merchants. They go by the name of 'Ironway Merchants.' Wealthy, but limited in many ways by the status of commoner."
"Thanks." Vane nodded before he turned away from the group.
"Whenever you are ready." The young man gestured, "I will be happy to be your guide."
"Lead the way, merchant," said Camilla, in an authoritative manner that she, as the member of House Hedron, typically presented.
Isaac and Camilla followed the young man, leaving Vane.
…
Upon arrival, the immediate impression Isaac held regarding the Mallow Town merchant hall was 'dull.' Perhaps it was far more luxurious in the past with the variety of precious metals serving as decorations, but given the current shortage in metals, they have taken down said metals and smelt them for different, more practical uses.
No one was present but the Ironway Merchants. Isaac assumed that they temporarily leased the entire hall for display, and this showcased their scale of wealth.
"We, Ironway Merchants, are traders who have been with the kingdom ever since its establishment under the First King." The young man explained as they walked. "For hundreds of years, we held strong. Today, we remain as one of the most noteworthy merchants that handle a nation-wide trading business."
They arrived in front of a curtain. Gently, the young man pushed it aside and gestured them to enter.
Camilla, with her chin up high, walked in without hesitation. Isaac followed. They were now inside a room that held a level of aestheticism, with red carpet on the floor, chandeliers, and display cases that held unique items. The young man didn't follow.
"Welcome."
Another man approached them from the display's far end.
He appeared to be someone in his late forties. His most notable characteristics were the mustache that was well-groomed, a monocle, and a sharp visage that suggested the handsomeness that he must have held in the earlier years of his life. His clothing was the best quality in the room—not because he was performing wealth, but because he had earned the right to wear it and considered it a reasonable tool.
His eyes moved across Isaac and Camilla with the rapid, precise assessment. He then addressed Camilla directly, with the courtesy of someone who knew Camilla's identity and status. "Miss Camilla Hedron of House Hedron. I am Reyn, the lowly commoner who serves as the head of Ironway Merchant. It is an honor to have you as our customer."
"The pleasure is all mine." Camilla accepted his greeting with the composed bearing of a high noble acknowledging a merchant.
"Thank you." Reyn then shifted his gaze to Isaac. "And he is…"
"Isaac Nameless." Camilla stated dismissively. "Now, I would like to see what you have to offer."
Reyn paused. "Of course." Then, he spoke as he turned.
He guided them toward the display's first section, which held rare materials—the kind that the war's disruption of eastern supply chains had made difficult to source through conventional means.
Camilla moved through it with astute gaze that suggested her familiarity in assessing qualities of rare finds, and Reyn moved alongside her, providing information on whatever her eyes landed on without a specific prompt.
Isaac walked behind them at a slight distance, focused on this man named Reyn rather than the products.
"You have children at the Academy?" At one point, Camilla asked, at a lull between displays. It was the conversational register of a noble assessing a merchant's social circumstances, and to commoners, this was an opportunity to make connections.
"Yes, miss Hedron. I have one daughter," Reyn said. "She's enrolled at the National Academy currently. Second year, general stream."
"General…" Camilla seemed to have lost interest. "The same year as us, but far too average to be the daughter of Ironway Merchants."
"She has strengths of her own, I believe." He smiled with the ease of someone sharing a pleasant coincidence. "I would assume that you have heard of her before."
"Why, aren't you confident." Camilla side-eyed Reyn, "her name?"
"Irine," Reyn said.
The name landed in the space between them.
Camilla's expression flattened. "Golden Repose," she asked.
"Yes," Reyn nodded eagerly, "you seem to know her indeed."
"Everything makes sense now… of how a commoner was able to find her way into the privileged dormitory of the National Academy." Camilla muttered as she came to a stop.
"Miss Hedron?" Reyn seemed to have caught the shift in Camilla's mood. Carefully, he spoke, "it appears that… you are not in good terms with my daughter."
"No." Camilla looked at Isaac, "but he is."
Reyn's smile became strained. Isaac remained silent, staring back at her.
Clicking her tongue, Camilla resumed walking, but in the direction where they have come from. It indicated that she was leaving, and Reyn couldn't help but ask, "Miss?"
"I am done." There were no further words. Camilla simply exited her way out without an ounce of appreciation for someone who provided her the service, as if it was something that naturally came with her status.
"It was a pleasure to have you here. Please have a safe way out." In the end, Reyn said behind Camilla before she was gone from their sight. Then, he turned to Isaac who remained instead of following her.
He sighed. "You know my daughter." His manners were gone with a blink of an eye. Settling on a nearby seat, he brought out a bottle of liquor from his sleeve, popped its cap open, and chugged it down his throat. "That girl… she didn't write me once since last year. How is she doing?"
Isaac inspected the man for a moment instead of replying immediately. His eyes were filled with fatigue. Relying on alcohol suggested the stress that he was under the influence of. He thought of the reason why. Golden Repose is very expensive. War is ongoing, and although war means more opportunities for merchants, it also means more expenses at the same time. Merchants are stringent when it comes to money.
"Suffering." At last, just before Reyn's patience ran out, Isaac answered.
"Suffering?" Reyn snorted, "in Golden Repose? Talk about suffering in luxury." He shook his head as he slammed the bottle on the table, "tell me what I actually am interested. Connections. Clearly, she managed to earn hostility of the likely heiress of House Hedron. Hedron—they are the leading nobles among the higher nobles, just before the Five Pillars. Irine—hah, what has she done?"
"Connections." Isaac rolled the word in his mouth. He gave a light frown to it as if he didn't like the taste. "Ironway Merchants already have reliable connections. What more do you need?"
"Reliable? Quit joking with me and answer the question, boy." Reyn growled. "What. Has. She. Done?"
To some extent, Isaac understood the man. Regardless of how rich and capable he was, he was a commoner. He was frightened by the possibility of House Hedron actively sabotaging his business. However, that didn't mean he agreed with the man. [The Prism] told him through his eyes, that this man named Reyn viewed his daughter as nothing more than a product that he could sell.
"Irine didn't tell you." Isaac asked.
"No, she didn't." Reyn's hand hovered over the bottle of liquor that sat on the table, as if he was considering if he should take another sip. However, his hand retreated, deciding against the option. "So tell me. Tell me whatever the hell she is doing. She should know better than herself that it isn't the weight of her own reputation that she carries on her shoulders, but also the future of our—"
"Then,"
"—our business—"
"Then."
Isaac interrupted for the second time, and Reyn stopped. Isaac's stance didn't change. He was relaxed with a flat expression that even Reyn, someone whose years of experience as a merchant taught him his to read others, couldn't see through.
Isaac spoke, "I am not in the position to tell you either."
"Why." Reyn, after long silence, muttered.
"Because it looks like she doesn't want to tell you." Isaac replied without an ounce of change in his expression, "Feel free to ask her yourself and see what response you get."
"…Boy, do you know what we are dealing with?" Reyn gritted his teeth. "War is worsening. It is spreading not just across the eastern frontline, but around the entirety of the kingdom's borders. By taking down our allies!" He gestured angrily with his hands. "The window to continue the trade business of same scale is getting tighter. Competitions are getting worse. You have no idea how much I had to pay to get through that god forsaken Caldwin Pass—because its owner died heir-less and two of the Pillars are blocking the path under the justification of 'protecting' the land!" He then panted as he spat words out. He snatched the bottle on the table and dropped the remaining content, down to its last drop, into his mouth. "…We need this. If Irine needs to suffer to keep the group alive, so be it. Ironway merchants have been ongoing for centuries, and I cannot let it end on my generation."
Isaac listened silently. By the end of Reyn's words, he had one comment, "you think like nobles."
"What?" Reyn exhibited confusion, as if he didn't know whether Isaac was giving a complement or an insult.
Isaac didn't answer Reyn. What he read in the stature of the sharp-looking, middle-aged man ahead of him was pride—pride of being the successful boss of Ironway Merchants. He valued his title over his blood ties.
Pride. It was something that nobles loved above anything else. Anyone with power seemed to be swallowed by it, from what he observed up until now. At the same time, it was the exact value that Isaac despised.
It was for this reason that he was, in the past, engaged to Camilla. The engagement was forced by Valerius Patriarch, who desired to strengthen the already-strong House Valerius through marriage alliance with House Hedron. Those nobles didn't care about their offspring. Children, to them, were nothing more than chess pieces at disposal.
Therefore, pride meant obsession. In other words, pride was the nemesis of freedom.
Isaac turned. He had nothing more to speak. He walked away, without any mannerism just like how Reyn presented himself immediately after Camilla's exit.
From back, Reyn angrily stood up. "Fine." He shouted at Isaac's back. "Do tell her this then—that if she doesn't elaborate what's going on, her placement in Golden Repose will be revoked."
"Tell her yourself." Isaac stated without turning around, without stopping his walk. "I am no messenger of yours."
He left, ignoring any additional screams that he received from the back.