["Enjoy the chapter, and please consider donating some Powerstones — it will encourage me to write more chapters."]
["Get ready for the next chapter; it includes a sex scene, the village head's wife is waiting."]
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Auren unrolled the weathered map he had bought from the market. The parchment crackled in his hands as he studied the winding roads, mountains, and rivers between their small village and the distant capital.
Riven stood beside him, squinting at the map over his shoulder. "What are you looking for in that old thing?" he asked.
"We're heading to the capital," Auren replied calmly, tracing the path with his finger.
Riven's eyes widened. "Wait—what?! Are you serious? The capital is 800 kilometers from here! Do you even realize how long that'll take? What the hell are you planning? And did you forget that people in the capital hate people like us? We can't even use magic. They treat us like aliens from another damn world."
Auren looked up from the map with an amused smirk. "What rubbish. Who said we don't know how to use magic?"
"You did!" Riven threw up his hands. "You've been reading dusty spellbooks and mumbling incantations like a lunatic. That's not magic. We both know we've never cast a single real spell in our lives."
Auren let out a low chuckle. "Let me show you what real magic looks like."
He stepped forward, lifted his hand, and muttered a spell under his breath. The air shimmered around his palm as glowing, invisible chains of energy shot forward—Psychic Bind—and wrapped around a thick old tree trunk ahead. With a loud crack, the chains tightened and yanked the tree out of the ground, roots and all, sending birds flying and dust clouding the air.
Riven stumbled back, staring at the floating tree in shock. "What the actual fuck?! When did you learn that?!"
Auren turned to him with a crooked grin. "While you were busy whining about the world not being fair, I was busy bending it to my will."
Riven blinked. "You cocky bastard."
"I'm not cocky," Auren said with a cold smirk. "I just don't waste time being useless."
Riven scowled but said nothing.
Auren reached into his pack and tossed a neatly folded outfit at him—dark travel clothes with lightweight armor layered subtly under the fabric. "Change into this. We're not showing up in the capital looking like peasants who just crawled out of a wheat sack."
Riven unfolded the clothes and looked around. "You want me to change here? In the open?"
"Huh? You dumb idiot, don't you see the thousand trees around us?" Auren jabbed a thumb toward the woods. "Go pick one and get behind it. I don't need to see your skinny ass."
"Tch," Riven muttered but stomped off behind a tree to change.
Auren changed as well, adjusting the belt on his tunic and tucking a small dagger—bought earlier at the market—into the side.
By the time Riven returned, grumbling under his breath but dressed, the rented wagon had rolled up from the village. The driver looked bored but nodded at the two travelers.
Auren climbed up first, then held out a hand mockingly. "Coming, Your Highness? Or do you need a ladder for your tiny legs?"
"Go to hell," Riven growled, climbing in.
As the wagon began to roll forward, Auren looked ahead, his eyes narrowing toward the distant mountains. "I've got some important work to handle in the capital," he muttered.
"Important work?" Riven asked. "What kind of work?"
Auren glanced sideways at him. "The kind that might get us killed... or make us legends."
Riven scoffed. "You better not get me arrested or murdered, Auren."
Auren grinned, leaning back casually. "Don't worry. If anyone's dying first, it's probably you."
Riven rolled his eyes. "You're the worst travel companion ever."
"And you talk too much."
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After nearly 150 kilometers of travel, the wagon's wheels creaked softly over the dirt path as darkness slowly took over the sky. The sun dipped behind the hills, leaving only dim embers of orange at the horizon. The chirping of birds faded, replaced by the distant howls of forest wolves and the crackling of bugs in the air.
Auren glanced up, squinting toward the growing shadows.
"We should stop here for tonight," he said. "Traveling non-stop is bad for our health… and for the horse too."
Riven yawned and nodded. "You're right. This thing's been pulling us all day. Poor beast must be exhausted."
The wagon owner, a burly middle-aged man named Bardo, pulled on the reins. "We can stop by that old village up ahead. Just five minutes from here. Decent folk there. Might be able to find a resting spot."
As they reached the outskirts of the small village, they got down and began scanning the area.
"Let's find a spot to set up the tent," Auren said, looking around.
Riven blinked. "Tent?"
"Yeah. Hand it over," Auren replied, holding out his hand.
Riven looked at him dumbfounded. "Huh? Bro… what tent are you talking about?"
"…Don't tell me," Auren narrowed his eyes.
"We. Don't. Have. One," Riven muttered, arms crossed.
Auren facepalmed. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Riven scoffed with a sly smirk. "This whole time you've been acting like a big boss, but you forgot to bring the one thing we needed tonight? A tent? Really? Even chickens have better planning instincts than you."
Auren groaned. "It's not the time to argue, dumbass. Let's find something for shade or shelter. Anything."
Before they could move further, a group of three men approached them with lanterns. One of them, wearing a dark red cloak and a wooden medallion around his neck, stepped forward. He looked to be around fifty, with a long gray beard and deep eyes.
"I see strangers have come at dusk," the old man said kindly. Two guards stood behind him. "I am Elder Harvon, the head of this village. May I know who you are and why you're here?"
Riven was about to answer, but Auren gently stepped forward, cutting him off. "We're adventurers passing through. Heading toward the capital. We lost our tent somewhere along the road and were hoping to find a place to rest for the night."
Riven looked at Auren, shocked. Adventurers? Really? He kept his mouth shut but raised an eyebrow.
"Ahh, I see," Elder Harvon smiled warmly. "Then you are welcome in our village. There's no inn here, but I have spare rooms in my home. It would be my pleasure to host you three."
Bardo quickly nodded. "Thank you, Elder. Much appreciated."
"Come," the elder gestured. "Follow me."
As they began walking toward Harvon's cottage, Riven glanced at Auren from the corner of his eye. In his mind, he thought:
Damn… He really knows how to talk. Just made us sound like some noble heroes. Got us free shelter without lifting a single coin. This guy… maybe he's not all talk after all.
The stars began appearing above them as the night settled, and the group disappeared into the warmth of the village.