Chapter 213

Saying he’d run from Oakenhallow wasn’t fully accurate, but it was pretty close to the truth.With the oath received, and Sir Poules promising to head to Floria the very next day, there was nothing else keeping him there, and since he still had another stop to make before he could turn back, it was only logical that he’d want to leave quickly.

“That place gave me the creeps,” Homer grunted in response to his asking how he’d been.

“What do you mean?” Nick asked, letting the wind carry his words even as they galloped away at full speed.

At least Homer had gotten used to it. Seeing him jump was funny at first, but it got old after a while.

“Not the town. That’s just regular people going about their business. But the manor… Everyone just did their tasks. They never slacked off, never chatted.” Then, seemingly realizing what he’d said, he coughed. “Not saying that people shouldn’t do their job, but—”

“No, I get it,” Nick interrupted. “It’s only normal for people not to put their full effort into everything all the time.”

Homer exhaled in relief. “Yeah, that. If it’d just been like that for the feast, I’d have understood, and it’s normal for people to want to look good when their boss is around, but no one ever slowed down.”

Nick hummed.

Personally, he’d never have tolerated it. If he had been the lord, he would have stopped such blatant manipulation early on.

After all, there were entire classes focused on social pursuits. Whether it was functionaries, nobles, or their servants, many people had no interest in fighting monsters, and their lives centered on developing skills to advance socially.

His parents warned him he’d face more resistance there, but he honestly preferred good old-fashioned resentment or even a direct challenge to a fight, rather than the subtle manipulations and creepy efficiency of Oakenhallow.

The distance between the two towns was slightly greater compared to the one between Floria and Oakenhallow, but the road was much neater, and few monsters dared approach it.

However, they were forced to slow down halfway through their journey, because several carts and carriages were blocking the way.

“A traffic jam?” Nick asked, incredulous. He didn’t doubt such a thing existed in this world, especially in the core regions and near larger cities, but for it to happen in the middle of nowhere…

“I’ll go look,” Homer said, dismounting his destrier and handing him the reins.

Nick could have easily told him what was happening, but he decided it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like this required his direct intervention anyway.

Two carriages occupied the paved road, each large enough to take half of its width. Both were pulled by three horses, and from what he was overhearing, both belonged to someone with enough money and influence to have a very big ego.

“You are blocking the path of the Heir of the Dunstonburoughs’ merchant family!” A man shouted, agitatedly gesturing toward the carriage behind him, where Nick could sense several people watching.

“Bah! The Dunstonburoughs haven’t made a single trade deal worth mentioning in a decade! You are standing before the Polliver-Bolliver Conglomerates’ caravan! Every moment we waste here is gold lost!” The opposing man, sporting an intricately crafted uniform, shouted back.

From the frustration that oozed out and the overall sense of anger and competitiveness, it was clear that this had been going on for a while.

Other people, both on horseback and with carts of their own, were looking on, annoyed but helpless to do anything.

On both sides of the road, deep ditches had been dug to prevent flooding. This generally useful infrastructure, unfortunately, made it difficult for anyone to go off-road and bypass the blockage.

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Some were thinking about it, especially those without heavy luggage of their own, but even trained horses would be in danger making such a jump.

It was just easier and safer to wait until the two carriages decided which one had to pull back first.

Homer’s arrival on the scene went unnoticed at first, but he quickly caught the screaming men’s attention by pushing through and getting between them.

Both turned to him, puffing up for another shouting round, before noticing his uniform and his very unamused expression.

“What, exactly, do you think you are doing?” Homer growled. In the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t exactly an impressive fighter, but compared to what these two civilians were capable of, he might as well have been a dragon.

Nick noticed that two people on either side, who had been watching in silent amusement so far, finally stirred.

Both were fairly powerful, enough to cause significant damage to the road and bystanders if they fought. Still, they didn’t seem ready to get involved yet, so Nick held back.

One of them, a woman with short hair and a nasty scar on her neck, even glanced in his general direction, showing she had some sensory abilities.

Nick debated whether to hide his presence for a moment before deciding it wasn’t worth it.

“Look here,” one of the coach-riders began, “I understand you might be a soldier, but that doesn’t give you the right to butt in a situation you don’t understand.”

“Yes, and unless you want the entire weight of the Polliver-Bolliver Conglomerate to fall on you, you will stay back,” the other added. Such a blunt threat would likely have been enough to intimidate a regular patrol guard.

It simply wasn't worth the trouble to get involved in this kind of situation. Merchant clans weren’t exactly nobles, but they liked to act as if they were, and their feuds could get just as, if not more, bloody. It helped that they had more coin than most knightly houses.

However, Homer was not there as a town guard. Instead, he was with the Baron’s son, to whom this land belonged. “You are both obstructing an official road," he growled, completely unbothered by their threats.

If anything, he seemed to relish the chance to ignore the blustering. Before either man could rally, he took another step, now standing in arm's reach of both. “Worse, you are blocking the path of Nicholas Crowley, son of Baron Eugene, who is on an official mission for his father.”

Some confusion spread then. Although a few days had passed since the proclamation, news of House Crowley’s elevation probably had yet to reach the masses.

Still, the coach riders had enough sense to realize that they might have bitten off more than they could chew, because both paled.

“You’ll have to forgive them, my good man,” a notably smoother voice called from within the carriage nearest Nick. “Sometimes, men get a bit heated, but they meant nothing. We will, of course, allow for the passage of Lord Crowley’s son.”

The man who stepped out could only be described as beautiful. With long blonde hair tied in a braid, tanned and smooth skin, standing just over six feet tall, and sporting a lean build, he immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Nick could feel his charisma from a distance, and poor Homer was hit with it directly. He blinked, trying to gather his composure, but the man continued, smiling warmly, “Since we are both going to Honeyton, perhaps we could even share the trip. We have space in our comfortable carriage for the young master, and we’d love to get to know him.”

His eyes bore into Homer, and the poor man struggled to find a way to refuse him.

Nick was almost tempted to let the whole thing play out. Homer was much stronger than the man, and if he had been in full control of his faculties, he could have slapped him and broken that pretty face. But it seemed that social classes still had their advantages, because Nick could see the soldier sink deeper into confusion.

Before he could accept on his behalf and force him to spend days in the company of up-jumped merchants, he decided he’d seen enough. A pat on Beth’s neck, enhanced with a bit of spiritual mana, caused the horse to neigh calmly, and he knew she wouldn’t run away.

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible.”

Several people looked up as he descended from the sky, robes fluttering gracefully. He landed next to Homer and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, breaking him out of his funk with a spark of spiritual calm.

To his credit, the handsome merchant immediately bowed his head, realizing from his little display that he wasn’t the kind of person he could influence without repercussions.

The sound of a door opening followed, and a fatter, uglier young man hurried over to join them, bowing deeply, “Ah, lord Crowley. It is a pleasure.”

“Indeed, how wonderful to be blessed with the scion of our new Baron,” the first one exclaimed, and the onlookers quickly bowed and murmured a greeting.

Nick could admit he was uncomfortable with the reverence shown, but this was a feudal society, and he probably had to get used to this kind of treatment. At least when acting in an official capacity.

The two adventurers on each side eyed him curiously, the woman with open interest, but neither spoke up, allowing their more socially adept contractees to handle the situation.

Not particularly interested in being drawn into a conversation, Nick made a show of looking at the carriages and the space they were occupying. “Take care of this, will you? I have urgent matters to handle, and honest people are losing daylight.”

Though his words were phrased as a request, he put enough emphasis in his voice to make it clear it was an order.

For a moment, both merchants hesitated, probably reluctant to be the first to back out, but they eventually decided that making a good impression on him was more important.

“Of course.”

“As you say.”

And that was that. Nick made sure no one thought they could approach him and quickly went back to the horses, followed by Homer, who was still affected by the unnatural calm he’d forced on him.

Eventually, with some coordination and assistance from the adventurers, the two carriages were able to squeeze past each other, if only just, and traffic resumed flowing.

Several people cheered and shouted thanks as he rushed by, and Nick raised a hand to acknowledge them before hurrying away.

Another day of riding finally brought them closer to their target, but it wasn’t as smooth sailing as Nick would have liked.

In the distance, a plume of smoke rose from where Honeyton was, and from the mass of chaotic emotions he could see swirling over the town, he knew it wasn’t exactly a controlled burn.

“Let’s hurry up,” he shouted, urging Beth forth. The horse didn’t need to be told twice and launched into a full sprint, closing the distance to the gates in just a few minutes.

By the time they arrived, both she and Homer’s stallion were panting, but Nick couldn’t spare them more than a thought. “I’ll go ahead, you take care of them,” he shouted, and the soldier behind him grunted in agreement.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Nick summoned a great gust of wind, and using and , he launched himself into the sky, easily clearing the town walls.

From above, he finally saw what was going on.

People were hustling through the streets, both to escape the fires and to help with a chain of water buckets.

A temple was on fire.