Chapter 209

“Let me,” Homer grunted, taking hold of Beth’s reins with one hand and slowing her to his horse’s pace.Nick repressed a sigh. The trip hadn’t been unpleasant, but he couldn’t say he had enjoyed the way the soldier was tiptoeing around him.

It had started well. They had made good progress, especially with Nick handling any monsters they encountered.

Unfortunately, the farther they went, the more Homer seemed to realize their path was suspiciously clear. His secretive glances hadn’t been very subtle, and by the time the sparrow hawks had shown up and needed a more direct handling, he was getting twitchy.

Nick suspected his laughter as he shot down the monsters hadn’t helped matters.

Their stop for the night had been brief. They let the horses drink water from a nearby stream, ate some jerky, and left after a quick nap, only two hours later.

Ever since they had woken up, Homer had been treating him with more respect. He didn’t grovel, thank everything that was holy, but it was clear it had finally sunk in that he was accompanying the scion of a noble house on a diplomatic mission, and that said scion was much stronger than his appearance might suggest.

Nick knew he didn’t quite cut an intimidating figure. He was fairly tall for a thirteen-year-old, but not yet a man, and while his overall demeanor gave him some gravitas, there was a disconnect between his baby face and what he was capable of.

By the time they reached Oakenhallow, Homer had seemingly decided he needed to further adjust his behavior, and he was currently leading Beth toward the town gates, as if he were an actual spoiled noble.

Nick would have protested the treatment, but he figured things might go more smoothly if he didn’t act like a half-feral murder hobo.

He even went so far as to run some very thin, dull blades of wind through his hair to comb it. He wouldn’t suffer the humiliation of doing it with his own hands, but if his hair just so happened to fall into a slightly neater mess, he didn’t complain.

Road dust also fell off his clothes, leaving him nearly impossibly clean.

In the distance, he sensed movement and couldn’t resist the temptation to overhear.

“Is that them?” A young voice asked.

“I believe so, milord. The one at the front wears the uniform of Floria’s militia, and we suspected they would come either today or tomorrow," a much older one answered.

Guards all around them scrambled to open the gates, and to Nick’s senses, they seemed much less organized than he would have expected.

Technically, Oakenhallow should have been equal to Floria in strength and wealth. It was slightly farther from the Green Ocean, which meant it wasn’t as popular with adventurers, but for the same reason, more merchants stopped there.

What he was seeing with told Nick that if they were any wealthier, they hadn’t used that money to secure themselves.

There were only about a dozen soldiers manning the entire northern walls. Looking further into the town, he could barely find three times that many.

Oakenhallow was a beautiful town, with many of the trees that gave it its name reaching high into the sky behind the sturdy wood and stone wall, and paved streets throughout the settlement. It had nothing to envy in Floria.

But something strange was going on. Even if they didn’t need to worry about monsters from the Green Ocean testing their defenses now and then—which Nick doubted—they were far too poorly protected.

The grassland wasn’t always as lively as it was during his journey with the girls, but that didn’t mean there weren’t moments of increased danger, like when the thunderhoofs went through their mating season.

The fact that the welcome party assembled for them consisted only of a teenage boy just slightly older than him, an old man who was probably a mage but not a particularly powerful one, if Nick’s senses weren’t betraying him, and a few guards was enough to heighten his suspicions.

Either this was an open snub, which he supposed was possible if unlikely, or something had pulled away most of the guards and the local captain.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Finally, the gates groaned open. It was clear that these particular ones weren’t used often, which made sense since most of Oakenhallow’s trade came from the south, and the occasional caravan wandered in through the grassland from the east. Still, it added to the sense of hesitation and decay.

Homer’s expression darkened when he saw the small group waiting for them, and Nick thought it was lucky he had such a strong sensory spell; otherwise, he might have taken offense just now.

“Who goes there?!” A guard yelled from above the wall.

“We come from Floria! I am Homer, messenger of Lord Crowley, and with me is his son, Nicholas, scion of the Baronial House!” Homer shouted back.

There was a brief silence, as they clearly hadn’t expected someone from House Crowley to make the trip.

The kid, whom Nick was pretty sure was Sir Poules’ heir, shuffled nervously, trying to get a better look at him. The old mage craned his neck, doing the same.

Overall, they weren’t doing much to improve his first impression, but then again, they didn’t need to be fearsome warriors. The only one who truly mattered was the Captain, and he wasn’t here for him to evaluate.

“Ah, be welcome, Lord Crowley!” The teenager finally remembered to say once the guards looked at him. “I am Lord Poules’ heir, Timothy Poules, and I hold authority over Oakenhallow while my father is away."

Nick nodded back, having expected as much. He didn’t know enough about the town to know where he should be directing his attention, but the conspicuous lack of soldiers had stood out immediately.

Homer opened his mouth to say something, then closed it with a click that made his mustache jiggle. He looked back at Nick, who inclined his head to indicate he would take over the talking now.

“Thank you, Heir Poules. I have come today to speak with your father, but I would be happy to talk with you privately first.”

With the formalities done, and with Nick clearly not about to blow a gasket for being denied access to his father, Timothy smiled, shoulders relaxing. “Alright, that works. You can leave your horses here at the northern stalls, or you can take them with you if you want.”

Nick looked at Homer, who glanced around and shook his head. “We still need to go south after this. It’d be better if we took them to a stall further down, or we’d have to backtrack once we leave.”

“You heard the man,” Timothy said, clapping his hands. “Guide him toward our best spot south of town.”

One of the guards startled, realizing he was talking to him, and quickly went to speak with Homer, who glanced at Nick questioningly.

“It’s fine, we aren’t that pressed for time.” He replied, earning a nod. He then dismounted Beth, gave her a scratch behind the ears, and let the guard take her reins.

With Homer walking down a side street, he turned to Timothy. “You can call me Nick when we aren’t doing official business, by the way.”

The teenager grinned, looking relieved. “Ah, that’s great. I’m Tim to everyone but my parents.”

Tim then signaled for him to follow, and they entered Oakenhallow proper. As the name suggested, it was a town that had developed around a series of majestic oak trees. Some had been left untouched, reaching high into the sky and serving as the centers for plazas and gardens, while others had been integrated into the rows of houses.

All in all, it was a one-of-a-kind place, and Nick couldn’t help but look around like a tourist.

“Pretty, huh?" Tim asked after a while. He had a grin on his face and seemed genuinely friendly. Maybe it was his big ears giving him a boyish look, or maybe it was his unruly brown hair, which stuck up in all sorts of places, but he seemed like a down-to-earth guy.

It helped that Nick was just a bit taller than him—and much stronger, too.

“It is. Floria is beautiful, of course, and we have a lot of trees all around, what with the Green Ocean, but ours aren’t as integrated.” Nick replied. Honestly, if it weren’t for the forest full of murderous monsters, the immensely powerful Prelate ruling in the northern outskirts, the mysterious and possibly even more powerful alchemist in the northeast, the grouchy but dependable lightning warrior in the south, and now the newest Prestige class overseeing them all, Floria would seem like a regular medieval town.

Curiously, Nick couldn’t sense anyone in Oakenhallow who was anywhere near that level of power. There were a couple of people he would be wary of in a fight, one of whom was currently inside the large building he thought was the seat of House Poules, and the other… cooking something?

Nick blinked, refocusing on his surroundings.

His gaze then shifted to the old mage who had been tailing them. He looked completely at ease, and since Tim hadn’t said anything, he didn’t object to his presence, but he was curious.

Possibly feeling his gaze, the man bowed his head lightly. “Ah, pardon my rudeness, young lord. I am Claudius, I serve as House Poules’ counsel for magical matters.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tim said, probably realizing he should have made the introductions earlier, “He’s my teacher, too. I am studying to apply to Alluria’s Magic Tower!”

He seemed very proud of that fact. Nick looked more closely with his sight, trying to catch anything he might have missed, but after a moment, he had to smile bemusedly. “Oh, that’s wonderful. I hope you’ll get in.”

Whatever Tim’s class was, it had little mana to offer him. Really, it was that or he’d barely risen above level fifteen despite being a year older.

“Lord Timothy has made impressive progress over the past few months. He even managed to achieve the spell ," Claudius added proudly.

Nick blinked lazily. After a moment, during which he wondered if he should be impressed by something that had only taken him a single lesson with Marthas, he decided that saying so wouldn’t go over well. “Ah, that’s good.”

Tim didn’t seem to notice anything wrong in his tone, but Claudius was swirling with several emotions, chief among them cautiousness.

Nick couldn’t quite estimate the mage’s power, but he didn’t think it was more than forty. Maybe lower if he wasn’t holding back.

Luckily, he was spared from more awkwardness when they arrived at the largest building in town. It was mostly made of wood, clearly taken from the big oaks nearby, and it was as large as Floria’s Town Hall.

Inside, about a dozen people were gathered near the entrance, clearly waiting for their arrival. Among them was one of the two standout individuals he had noticed earlier, and when they entered, he saw exactly who it was.

A gorgeous woman, with lips painted a bold scarlet and an ample bosom nearly spilling out of her corset, stood at the center of the formation.

Her pearly white teeth flashed as Tim entered the room, but her eyes never left Nick, watching him like a lioness stalking a gazelle.

“Welcome to Oakenhallow, Lord Crowley,” she murmured huskily, her voice somehow echoing just enough to reach his ears.

“Ah, Nick, this is my stepmother, Lady Chandra. She is my other advisor while my father is out of town, and she manages the administrative tasks. You will have to talk with her about the official business.”

“I’m sure it will be a painless process,” he smiled back, not liking the way she was eyeing him at all.

He liked the notification that popped up even less.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION

Trait has protected you from a passive mental effect.