Chapter 24: On the road.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

During those three days, Phyllis was as busy as a bride on the eve of her wedding.

She performed a thorough deep maintenance on all of their equipment and stuffed their enormous magic spatial bag with every necessity required to maintain an aristocratic standard of living even in the wilderness.

On the morning of departure.

North gate of Ordis.

A luxurious carriage drawn by four jet-black stallions was already waiting there.

Hill, with her mithril sword on her back, had just stepped out of the city gate when the sight before her made her freeze.

The carriage body was easily twice the size of an ordinary one; its pitch-black exterior was adorned with subtle silver patterns, the windows hung with heavy velvet curtains, and even the wheels shimmered faintly with shock-absorption magic.

“This is… our transport for this mission?”

Hill blinked. It was practically a mobile palace.

“Of course, Captain Hill.”

Marius stood gentlemanly beside the carriage, one hand over his chest in a polite bow.

“As a scholar, long journeys require a stable environment in which to organize documents. This is the Black Rose—I specially arranged for it.”

“This is simply too…”

Hill started to say “too extravagant,” but Phyllis gently tugged her sleeve.

“This is simply perfect.”

Phyllis smoothly took over the sentence.

Today she wore a deep-blue long dress beneath a white traveling cloak—looking both capable and elegant.

She turned to the two other team members behind them: Elisa and Nia.

Elisa was still clad in her mirror-polished armor, clutching her massive shield to her chest.

Nia wore light leather armor, her ears twitching alertly.

“Now then, according to the battle plan we discussed earlier.”

Phyllis’s voice was gentle yet clear, carrying the weight of an incontestable decree.

“Nia, your sense of smell and hearing are the sharpest. Please take the seat beside the coachman and keep constant watch on the road ahead.”

“Got it, nyaa!”

Nia was delighted—sitting beside the coachman offered the best view, and Phyllis had even given her a bag of dried little fish as snacks.

“Miss Elisa…”

Phyllis turned to the female knight.

“You are our final line of defense. Please ride the warhorse provided by the guild and guard the rear of the carriage. The rear is a blind spot visually, so it can only be entrusted to a knight as reliable as you.”

“Leave it to me, Vice-Captain!”

Elisa puffed out her chest, deeply moved.

“Not even a fly will get near the captain from behind!”

“Excellent.”

Phyllis nodded with satisfaction.

Hill listened from the side and felt something was slightly off.

“Um… and me? Where do I sit?”

By habit, Hill preferred an open view—even riding a horse would be fine.

Phyllis turned her head and gave the most natural smile in the world.

“Hill is naturally sitting inside the carriage with the client, of course. After all, you’re the captain—you need to stay in constant communication with the client about the itinerary and any sudden situations.”

“But I wanted to ride a horse too…”

“No can do.”

Phyllis stepped forward and carefully pulled Hill’s cloak hood up over her head.

“The wind and sand outside are too harsh. Your skin just finished its treatment—I’d be heartbroken if it cracked.”

“And besides…”

She leaned close and lowered her voice to a whisper beside Hill’s ear.

“The client paid one hundred gold coins—a true VIP. If we all run off to ride horses and leave him alone in the carriage, what if he feels neglected and files a complaint?”

One hundred gold coins.

That crushing argument completely shattered Hill’s resistance.

“…Fine. For the gold.”

Hill sighed and gave in.

And so the party was flawlessly divided.

Elisa at the rear, Nia at the front.

The sturdiest shield and the keenest eyes had both been excluded from the carriage interior.

…

Hill climbed the folding steps into the carriage.

The interior was even more spacious than it appeared from outside.

Thick shag carpet covered the floor; the seats were upholstered in red velvet; in the center stood a small round rosewood table fixed to the floor.

Marius was already seated on the window side.

Hill started toward the empty seat opposite him…

“Hill, sit on the inside.”

Phyllis followed right behind, gently pushing at Hill’s waist to guide her into the innermost corner seat.

Then Phyllis naturally settled on Hill’s outer side.

In this arrangement, Phyllis sat squarely between Hill and Marius.

If Marius wanted to look at Hill, his line of sight had to pass through Phyllis.

If he wanted to hand something to Hill, his arm had to cross over Phyllis.

It was an impassable barrier.

“Alright, let’s depart.”

Phyllis rapped lightly on the carriage wall.

The carriage began to move slowly.

The shock-absorption magic took effect; the interior remained perfectly steady, like walking on flat ground—only the faint crunch of wheels over gravel could be heard.

“Mr. Marius.”

The moment they were settled, Phyllis drew an exquisite tea set from what seemed to be an infinite Doraemon-style magic pouch.

“The journey is long. This is my special blend of black tea—it helps keep one alert and refreshed.”

She poured a cup for Marius, then one for Hill.

Hill’s cup received double the milk.

Marius accepted the cup but did not drink immediately.

Through his monocle, his deep gaze studied the silver-haired girl tucked into the corner.

Ever since boarding, this young woman had been unusually quiet…

Or rather… she seemed overly sheltered—perhaps even restrained—by the vice-captain beside her.

“Captain Hill.”

Marius took the initiative to open a topic, his tone carrying a gentle probe.

“While reviewing guild records, I noticed your sword style is quite unique. It has no formal name, yet it is exceptionally seasoned and mature. May I be so bold as to ask—who taught it to you?”

Danger…

Hill’s teacup trembled slightly in her hand.

The origin of her previous-life swordsmanship was tied to her greatest secret.

“Ah, well, actually it’s…”

Hill was just about to launch into the well-rehearsed story of the reclusive master.

“Oh my, Hill!”

Phyllis suddenly exclaimed, producing a handkerchief and leaning in abruptly.

“There’s milk foam on the corner of your mouth. Really now, you drink tea like a little child.”

She didn’t simply wipe it away—she cradled Hill’s face in both hands and meticulously cleaned every trace.

The pure white handkerchief blocked Hill’s line of sight—and conveniently covered her mouth.

“Mmph… Phyllis… let go…”

Hill’s muffled protest came out garbled.

“There, all clean now.”

Phyllis slowly withdrew her hands, then promptly picked up a cookie and precisely stuffed it into Hill’s still-open mouth just as she was about to speak.

“Here, have a cookie. Drinking tea on an empty stomach is bad for your stomach.”

Hill was forced to bite down and start chewing; the carefully prepared lie was effectively stuffed back down her throat along with the cookie.

Only then did Phyllis turn toward the slightly stunned Marius opposite her.

Her face wore a flawless, apologetic business smile.

“My apologies, Mr. Marius. What were you asking just now? About the swordsmanship?”

Phyllis lifted the teapot and refilled Marius’s barely-touched cup to the brim.

“That is something our captain created herself. Just as some birds are born knowing how to fly, Hill was born knowing how to wield a sword. That’s what we call genius, isn’t it?”

She casually dismissed the seasoned, battle-hardened technique as a matter of metaphysical talent.

Marius adjusted his glasses; his gaze lingered on Phyllis’s smiling face for several seconds.

“…Self-created? At sixteen years old, inventing a style so grand and open, even carrying the flavor of military drill?”

“Some people are simply blessed by the Goddess.”

Phyllis met the inquisitor’s stare without flinching; her blue eyes held only an unfathomable, serene calm.

“As believers, we should not over-analyze the gifts of the divine—wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Scholar?”

She deftly dropped the heavy hat of faith over Marius’s mouth.

If he pressed further, he would be questioning a miracle.

“…Indeed. A most intriguing explanation.”

Marius smiled and finally took a sip of tea.

The brew was impeccable—just like the woman before him, offering not a single flaw to exploit.

“By the way.”

Phyllis suddenly seemed to remember something; she drew three delicately embroidered sachets from her bosom.

Each sachet gave off a faint, slightly pungent herbal fragrance.

“These are anti-demon sachets.”

Phyllis handed one to Marius.

“The Mist Swamp ahead is thick with miasma. These sachets contain herbs soaked in holy water—they prevent miasma from entering the body.”

Marius accepted it, brought it to his nose, and inhaled.

Mint, mugwort, holy water…

All perfectly ordinary anti-demon ingredients.

No suspicious toxins whatsoever.

“Thank you. Miss Phyllis is truly thorough in her preparations.”

He accepted it.

“You’re very welcome.”

Phyllis took another and fastened it securely at Hill’s waist.

“This one is for Hill. I added a little extra calming herb inside.”

Phyllis’s fingers deftly tied an extremely tight knot, anchoring the sachet firmly to Hill’s belt.

The knot was so secure that nothing short of scissors would remove it.

“All set, Hill.”

Phyllis patted the sachet with satisfaction, the way one might pat a pet’s head after fitting it with a collar.

“No matter what, don’t take it off.”

“I know, I’m not a child.”

Hill swallowed the last of the cookie and muttered.

“You’re way too overprotective.”

“Because only with you by my side can I feel at ease.”

Phyllis tilted her head and gently rested it on Hill’s shoulder, once again completely ignoring the man across from them.

Half her body leaned against Hill; her hand naturally intertwined their fingers.

The carriage interior was warm; the incense was soothing.

The gentle rocking of the carriage carried a hypnotic rhythm.

Having just eaten something sweet and now enveloped in such warmth, Hill’s eyelids began to droop.

“Tired?”

Phyllis asked softly.

“A little…”

“Then sleep. I’ll keep watch over the road.”

Phyllis adjusted her posture so Hill could nestle more comfortably against her chest.

Hill stopped resisting and closed her eyes.

Before long, steady breathing filled the carriage.

Phyllis maintained her embrace of Hill, yet slowly lifted her gaze toward Marius opposite.

The smile on her face remained gentle—but there was not a trace of warmth in her eyes.

Like a dragon guarding its hoard, coldly watching every thief who dared approach.

What are you looking at?

She belongs to me.

Every word she speaks when awake, every breath she takes when asleep—they are all mine.

Marius’s hand, still holding the teacup, froze in midair.

Perhaps it was only his imagination…

But from this seemingly holy nun, he sensed a black emotion far denser than any heretic’s malice.

The carriage rolled onward through the mist, wheels turning steadily toward the unknown distance.