The right stagecoach driver clasped his hands, eyes shut, murmuring a silent prayer. Please let nothing happen to us.
Oh great Zesch, please protect us on this journey and guide us.
He breathed out, looked up, and relaxed his muscles.
"Fine, let's go." His words felt strained, held back by an unseen rope, as he flicked his reins.
"Yeah!" The left stagecoach driver grinned, mimicking the action.
*Nneiighhh!*
The horses surged forward, their muscles bulging, slicing through the air. Meanwhile, inside the carriage, Jorel sat absorbed in a newspaper, the creaking of the wood and the clanking of the wheels a rhythmic drone that muffled the outside world.
He dabbed his finger on his tongue, turning the page. Advertisements for businesses and products immediately greeted him, along with a tiny message, seemingly from pilgrims.
×Join us, the children of Smarin, where you would see the greatness and superiority of the all-knowing Smarinten as she shares her power and wisdom×
×If interested, meet our startup at Port Salar in the Henoko region×
"Huh… Never heard of this one before." Jorel adjusted his back against the itchy chair and turned the page again. His eyes widened at the headline, his grip on the paper creasing the edges.
×Tensions rise as the lord of the Bandan lands marched into the High Court and murdered seven people×
So that means that uncle…
His eyes devoured the rest of the article.
×From witness reports, he declared a full separation from the government and added that "he's withdrawing the garrison defense from the king's forces."×
×Declares war on the king, what a futile attempt if you ask me, but it seems that this alone sparked something in bandits all over, as it has been reported that there's been a recent hike in bandit attacks.×
×There's yet to be any word from the king and his High Court, everyone's in confusion, what's going to happen now to Marlour and her people?×
×Everyone awaits×
×Written by J.R. Silo bringing you the latest scoop×
Jorel's breath grew heavy as he lowered the newspaper, his mind utterly still, the creaks and clanks now a deafening symphony in his brain.
If what I read is true…
That means…
The king…
"I'll have to meet father." He shook his head, slamming the newspaper onto the floor.
"Wonder how much longer it is…" He gazed at the corroded ceiling, tapping his fingers on the edges of the seat, and let out a single huff of air.
I'm bored…
He stood, reaching for the door, trying to open it, but…
THUD! THUD!
"Huh…" He relaxed, a confused expression on his face.
Well, what can I expect from this hump of junk?
He grabbed the doorknob tightly, straining his body, banging on the door once more.
THUD!—THUD!
VVWHOOF!
"Wo-Wow!" He burst the door open, swaying his hand in the air, the other gripping the doorknob, his legs glued tightly to the floor.
"What in the?!" The stagecoach drivers both looked behind them, their eyes wide and mouths agape.
"Y-Young lord… What are you doing?!" The right stagecoach driver asked, his face stunned. Jorel still looked to the ground, as if no one had spoken. He stabilized himself firmly and looked towards the stagecoach drivers while the carriage clunked along the uneven path.
"How much longer till we reach the Ujochi estate? Are we already in the Jonke region?" Jorel shouted, cupping his hand to his mouth. The stagecoach drivers looked visibly confused, unable to hear over the rushing wind.
"Huh… What'd that ingrate say?" The left stagecoach driver asked, his head still locked forward.
"I don't know… Couldn't hear him," the right stagecoach driver answered, still looking at Jorel. "Hold on…" He adjusted himself firmly on his horse.
"What'd you say, young lord?!" the right driver shouted as the carriage buckled beneath them.
Wha… Are these fools deaf?!
Jorel thought, murmuring.
"I said! How much longer till we reach my estate?! Or are we already in the Jonke region?!" he shouted again.
"Oh… We're not in the Jonke region just yet," the right stagecoach driver shouted back.
"But we are taking a shorter path, so it shouldn't take as long as it was expected earlier." He smiled faintly.
"And how long was it expected to be earlier?" Jorel asked.
"Three days!" The right driver shouted, his hat almost flying off, but he grabbed it just in time.
Three days?!
No… But at least they said they took a shortcut
Hmm, so peasants can use their brains for once.
But three days…
Jorel gripped the door's handle more firmly.
"But sir, you should really go back inside! It's more safe!" The right stagecoach driver nodded towards the carriage beside him, smiling.
"You could really fall off, the path here isn't smooth!" he added.
Safe? So they care about my safety?
No… It couldn't be it
They just don't want to be held responsible if something happened.
Peasants could never care about anything apart from themselves.
Jorel scorned, but hesitantly, he reluctantly retreated back into the carriage and closed the door.
The carriage trotted along the path and turned right. The wind blew gently, all the while something---no, someone---above them watched. A figure in a dark gray coat, wearing a mask, seemed to float above them.
"I think I've found who we're looking for." The person slowly brought a lone, disembodied ear, connected by a long, slender thread, closer to their mouth.
---The end of chapter 20---