"Your Grace, I must confess, you are ageing with considerable speed," Marquees Vaelin Thorn jabbed, pointing his falcon headed staff at twenty-five-year old Sirius' frowning forehead.
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Himself, a man of family with three kids and a pregnant wife, at the ripe age of twenty-five, the ginger headed man found much pleasure in rubbing his happiness in the face of every bachelor in the room or, in this case, a carriage.
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"You're even keeping Albert's head poured into the Dukedom. Poor sod will jump a maid one day, out of mere desperation and curiosity over breasts," Vaelin snorted, words as vulgar as always.
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Sirius narrowed his amythest eyes at his so-called-friend before flicking a finger at his staff, which shot an electric bolt through the metal, zapping him in the process.
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Vaelin let out a girly shriek, throwing away his staff under the carriage bench and clutching his hands to his heart. "Mercy! My Duke, Mercy!" The ginger cried out.
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"Stay in your lane," Sirius grumbled, supporting his elbow on the carriage window's ledge and blankly staring at the winding rocky terrain in front.
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"Sheesh, you cannot even take a joke! I was joking, of course! Why are you so aggressive?!"
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Sirius chose to ignore Vaelin's subsequent gaslighting, lest he'd lose a friend by his own hands. Mostly all Nobels would either be engaged or married around the time of their Succession. Titles were not given until a man was of established family, for then only was he considered respectful and responsible within society.
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Ever since Sirius came of age, he had been calling bullshit over that fact.
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Why did he need to have a wife and children to prove his worth within society? To prove that he was a gentleman who wasn't going to gamble his title away? Surely, he had seen more adulterators and gamblers made out of married men than young bachelors.
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He had stayed unmarried for so long just to prove his point to the ever-frowning Royal Court. He could run a Dukedom without a wife who'd tell him when to wake up and get to work.
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Sirius would rather be the one doing the waking up, if he ever had a wife.
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The thought would often cross his head, being married to someone. Having an entirely unknown person so up-close and personal, jutting her nose in his business, making him accountable for her life— Sirius was not ready for that sort of intrusion.
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It seemed ridiculous to have someone around for the rest of his life, just because of heirs, and Sirius was too much of a smart man to marry for love.
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He had seen grown men become blithering fools in love, a sobbing mess over miscommunication, and Sirius would rather willingly jump into the gallows than see himself become that way.
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He liked himself just as he was now.
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His dark gaze travelled over to Vaelin who was grumbling something under his breath, and his beliefs were confirmed yet again. Yes. He wouldn't want to become someone like Vaelin, struggling over kids and diapers and whatnot.
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"I have an inkling about your thoughts. You are being jealous inside your pretty little head," Vaelin claimed, a bright smile on his face, now pointing his long finger in Sirius' face.
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"Do you love being a filler? Why do you always keep speaking something, yet, making no sense at the same time?" Sirius berated, rubbing his slender hands over his face, out of mere exasperation and exhaustion.
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Journeying to Aldoria and back, within a day, had got him lethargic. Maybe he was ageing - for all the different reasons.
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"You're just salty because I happen to have better conversation skills," Vaelin grinned a boxy grin, carding his hand through his ginger locks. He wiggled his brows to look charismatic, yet, all he looked to Sirius was a wannabe.
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"There's just no going through your head, is there?" Sirius gasped in reply. Why did he even try hard with Vaelin? His pea-sized radius of thought would never expand beyond the likes of his own self.
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As if one cue, Vaelin jumped forward, voice only above a whisper, "Talking of going through, did you think of a plan? To get through HER?"
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Sirius shook his head, silver locks gently swaying with regret.
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"I am searching for someone. Loyalty is hard to buy even with money and magic."
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Vaelin nodded in understanding. Their lands bifurcated by blood homed thousands of people, where a brother couldn't trust his own brother lest their blood ended up being different.
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A sudden chill ran down Sirius' spine and his back straightened up.
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His nerves were on high alert. He clicked open the window to check the outside when a stone zoomed inside the carriage. It brushed past his hair and charged at Vaelin's forehead.
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Instantly, the gingerhead caught it in between his fingers and Sirius bolted the window shut. Face puzzled, mind abuzz with thoughts.
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"What is this circus about —?" Vaelin scowled, eyeing the small rock for any malicious enchantments. When he observed its rough texture to be nothing but normal, he looked up to frown at his friend.
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"I reckon it's an ambush," Sirius concluded, returning Vaelin's frown.
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"Did they find out?!" Vaelin gasped, brown eyes widening to their limits as his fingers clutched against the edge of his seat.
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"No. I think they are trying to find out. We are to either die or go out and defeat it ourselves and risk being identified." Sirius gritted his teeth. "If we use our magic, we will leave our Arcane Mark—"
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A sudden banging behind Vaelin's side of the carriage wall caught them off guard.
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"My Sires! There is- there is a Granitaur here!! A real one!! Sire it is headed towards us!!" Their driver screamed, wildly banging both of his hands on the carriage wall.
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Vaelin unbolted the carriage gate and it flung wide open, the metal fluttering like a dry leaf amidst strong gusts of winds.
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"Stay calm Matthew, it is not after you. You may run away and it wouldn't —" Sirius' words were hindered by the driver.
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"There is woman! My sire! She is asking you to stay inside. Maybe she is a mage—"
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The door banged shut.
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Sirius and Vaelin's heads thrashed against the carriage roof as their bottoms left the seat, gravity playing a little joke on them as the air pressure escaped into space.
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Their throats got clogged and breathing became a fantasy in split second.
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Vaelin gasped for air, eyes bulging out, hand resisting magic as Sirius desperately shuffled to find a small box from his pockets.
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They could not use magic for it would leave their Magical Signature, Arcane Mark, in the place and make their trails easily trackable. Their enemies would know of their identities and they would be hung to death before sundown.
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His hand struggled, but ultimately, Sirius found the box from his pocket and pulled it out. In a moment of haste he flipped it open and gulped the bead that was inside the box.
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Air found its way back to their lungs, gravity gently rested them to the ground. His amythest eyes glowed red as his feet touched the carriage floor.
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⩩
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Ori's feet suddenly touched ground and an elevating feeling embraced her. Her mind was on a mission.
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She raced against shooting stones charging at the carriage and plundering it with holes.
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With a desperate hope of its inhabitants to be safe, Ori reached the giant log stack and picked up one of them with a dragged breath. Its heaviness bent her knees and strained her back as she lifted it in one hand and arched to aim at the monster.
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Every stone charging at the carriage had now formed a shield in front of it. The people inside the carriage must be magicians, Ori concluded.
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Now, it was in Ori's hands to work hard. Her blue orbs singled on the glowing hollow gaps between the stone monster and she shot the log into the air.
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SMACK!
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The log slid into one of the monster's back cracks and impaled through its body. It staggered, roaring a deafening roar. The strange gusts of air died down around them. Ori beelined towards the carriage and stole the sword of the young driver boy who had long passed out.
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The monster charged one of its fists at her.
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Ori didn't look back as she dodged the monster's attack and swung the stolen sword with all her might. The blade struck the monster's rocky hide with a loud clang, and Ori felt the impact reverberate through her arm.
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"Heck, I did not eat enough for this—" she groaned as a wave of nausea ran through her. Ori had heard stories about these stone monsters, Garnitaurs, from travellers and young adventurers. They had claimed one hit in the monster's core and it would be over soon.
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The monster pelted her with stones again and Ori skillfully cut through the attacks. She moved forward to slash against him. The sword was sharp, and it made a deep gash in the monster's side. The creature roared in fury and swung its massive stone arms at Ori. She jumped out of the way just in time, the sword still clutched tightly in her hand.
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As the monster raged on, Ori realized that the boy's sword was unlike any she had ever used before. It felt weightless in her hand, yet she could feel its power coursing through her veins. It was almost magic when she slashed the monster's stony feet and toppled it over to the ground.
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It crashed, making the land vibrate due to the impact. Ori took it as an opportunity to climb over its stony trail and impale its glowing chest, cutting off its life source once and for all.
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Ori grinned, but as soon as her fingers left the sword's hilt, a wave of magic vibrated through the atmosphere.
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It carried her slender self and propelled her several feet away from the monster. The carriage too flung straight into the air and crashed several feet away into the ground.
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Ori's head hit one of the few stones and her body dragged against the coarse surface as pointy stones cut open gashes in her flesh. Right before her vision blacked out, Ori's face had a smile, for the monster lay dead and the carriage survivors were running towards her.
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