Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Versailles

*Clack clack clack… thunk! Clack clack clack*

The carriage wheel bounced roughly off a large stone near the side of the road. The jolting of the carriage jarred Thistleman awake, his head rebounding like a rubber ball bouncing off the hard wood of the carriage.

“Ah! Ow ow ow, ahh that smarts!” Thistle cradled his head in between his arms, with everything feeling a lot more sensitive than usual.

He glanced over at Diane, sprawled on the carriage seat. Her breathing was quite uneven, although not quite pained.

Analysis.

While there was no rush, the increased mana costs from using the shortened incantation and internalized casting were marginal compared to his mana reserves and regeneration rate, even while injured and with his regeneration stunted.

Thistleman snaked out his aura to study her body, breathing a sigh of relief to find no damage. She was getting fairly dehydrated though.

Reveal Mana.

He watched a chaotic flurry of mana particles course through Diane's mana heart. Pulsating. Swirling. Colliding. Yet still slowly moving towards balance.

A consequence of her sudden awakening? It seems to be consuming her entire mind to adjust and acclimate to her new reality...

She needed water though. And if her labored breathing was any indicator of how much focus acclimation and mana regulation was taking, then just pouring some water down the poor kids throat would be intensely problematic. It was like a more overwhelming version of regaining a lost sense, such as a blind man gaining the ability to see. The mind needed to adapt to the overwhelming amount of new information.

Although, if I just used some mana to guide some water down her throat... then it shouldn't be an issue.

Satisfied with his solution, he then carried on to other matters.

Thistleman opened the curtain on the carriage window, the resplendent reds and oranges of the setting sun slowly faded towards dusk. The low hum of insects weaved a peaceable song for the evening.

The carriage, on the other hand, slowly drifted towards the edge of the road. The horses' ragged breath was a much harsher contrast to the pleasant evening, as was the... incoherent rambling?

“Haa… haa… how… h-h-how… never will… will… won’t accept… not again…” The mess of words scraped themselves from the coachman's parched mouth. Red seeped in from the corners of his eyes, and accentuated his veins while he doggedly kept his drooping eyelids opened. He swayed steadily in place, locked in his delirious trance.

It’s a miracle the horses haven’t collapsed from exhaustion or had a heart attack.

Thistleman lifted his arms, carefully checking over his hands for their full range of motion. Then he drug himself to sit upright.

“Seems I’ve got enough strength to move around, although I really don’t want to haul around an unconscious girl. Ugh, what a pain… I should probably convince this coachman to take a break.” He mused to himself. Then he took a quick pause... something didn't feel right.

Not sure what was off, he attempted to stand up. The shock of all of his muscles and nerves crying out in unison knocked him right back down into his seat.

“Shit… I really need to focus on recovering without all this damn jostling around… ahhh… HEY COACHMAN, PULL OVER AND TAKE A BREAK!”

Thistleman’s sudden shout yanked the coachman back to reality.

“Ah… ah, what? Oh, right, yes.” Following orders was baked into the coachman's soul, thankfully more than the horrors he had just witnessed. Especially in a condition like his, he had no energy to do anything other than follow his well-programmed instincts.

He pulled over near a small batch of trees. While passed out, they had travelled quite far from Kurstwood and were near some generally open plains. The road quality also improved closer towards civilization, with occasional farming hamlets dotting the horizon.

Thistleman steeled his mind and prepared for the pain he knew was coming, and stood up.

“Hrrrrr!!! Ahhhh…. It’s alright. It’s alright. I got this.” It had been a really long time since he last felt this beat up.

He opened the carriage door and carefully clambered his way to the ground, holding in a groan as he limped his way to the front.

Were carriages always this large?

There it was again. Something was definitely off, something rather unusual. Maybe some more rest to properly heal up and clear my head will sort this out...

The coachman still held a look of delirium in his eyes when Thistleman got to him.

“Alright, you are going to rest up here. Get inside the carriage and get some sleep. I will take care of the horses for the night.” Thistle spoke tersely, emphasizing that this was a command and not so much a suggestion.

The coachman was too exhausted. Since the encounter with the Grendel, he had been riding tirelessly throughout the remainder of the night and the following day. It had been nearly two days since he slept. He just nodded, and with a grunt curled up in his seat and passed out, without even thinking to question why he was just accepting the direction of such a young boy.

Well... at least the gist of it got through.

As Thistleman posted the horses up to rest, everything finally started to click. Were my hands always this small? My arms… are really small too!

In a panic, he started checking everything again!

No wonder everything seemed so large! Is this because of the contract?! I know I tried to look more human... but why am I kid!? What did I just get myself into???

It is on this frantic note that Thistleman took watch of the camp for the night, cycling between groaning about his injuries and then his new predicament.

The coachmen snored loudly from the driver's seat while Diane was still passed out and steadily slipping into a calmer rest, allowing the night to pass rather peacefully.

---

Diane woke to the sound of lively chatter.

She cradled her head in her palm as her stomach yowled with hunger.

“Hauuu…” she groaned to herself. Somehow, in spite of all of this, she felt… stronger. She blinked a few times. Nothing looked different, but somehow it all felt... more alive?

Then… her latest memories flooded back to her. The Grendel. Diane flung open the front window of the carriage.

“Where! Where is it!?” she screamed in panic.

“Aghhh… watch where you’re yelling! Where is what? You are killing my ears! Sleeping for nearly five whole days and you just start blowing out my eardrums.” Thistleman retorted with a hint of annoyance.

Diane blinked again, looking around. Seeing farms and peasants walking along the road and in the fields was a welcome, calming sight. She sighed in relief for a moment, before her face paled again. She asked in a shaken voice: “Where… where is everyone else? Hal? Gregory??”

The coachman’s face turned dark, as he silently shook his head.

Diane bit her lip, and desperately stifling her tears to little avail.

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“We are getting close to Versailles now. You should probably compose yourself for your report to your father. I’m sure you already know how he is.” The coachman advised as best he could.

Diane nodded. In response to another yowl, Thistleman begrudgingly reached in to the pouch next to him, and pulled out some jerky and crackers.

“Here. Eat this.”

Rules are rules. I agreed to do this stupid contract, so I'll carry it out. And, if I had to hazard a guess from past observations, humans usually don't let their friends starve.

---

The outer walls of the Ducal capital of Versailles slowly inched into view.

Unlike Kurstwood, these walls were made out of stone pulled from nearby quarries. The city was decidedly larger, with nearly 125,000 residents and another 25,000 in the surrounding rural areas. It was huge even in comparison to most other cities in the Kingdom, second only to the royal capital of Archion.

The wrought-iron gate was raised halfway up into the arched stone of the portcullis, with traffic moving smoothly in and out of this city following a quick, cursory inspection.

As they approached, one of the guards signaled for them to halt.

“Who are you and what is your business here in Versailles today?” she asked, halfway droning from the repetition of asking the same question day after day.

Diane showed her family crest, emulating the disaffectionate tone of most nobles. “Lady Diane of House Culaine, I am here to see my father.”

The guard snickered. “Ah, it’s just you? Looks like your short your usual group. Hah! Well, go on through.”

Diane’s tightened her fists, but she held in her temper enough to not leap for the prick's throat.

“Hmph! And what would you know of it, hiding here behind the nice city walls? Peons like you are going to be the first to be eaten when the demons come!” She sniped, shooting a frozen glare as the carriage rolled through the gate.

The guard stopped snickering, looking somewhat taken aback. As the carriage proceeded in to the town, the guard yelled something back, but it was lost in the bustle of the city.

To reach the Duke’s manor, they just needed to follow the main road past the central market and main trade center. The numerous inns and residential buildings, built with a mix of wood and stone, made way into shops, smithies, tailors and restaurants. The ducal capital of Versailles displayed a level of resplendent wealth that attempted to rival the capital of Archion. Given another hundred years, it could perhaps even become a proper matchup.

The main roadway was well paved, with trees and flowers lining the center and sides and various parks occasionally breaking up the sprawl. Magical lamps dotted the street, although none were on in the midday sun. No point in wasting the mana crystals, after all.

To any outsider or rural villagers, the sights and sounds would fill them with awe and excitement. However, they were hardly even noticed to the occupants of the carriage. Diane was sitting in silence, staring daggers, then knives, and then various other deadly instruments, through the floor.

Thistleman stared out the window, with a look of complete disinterest on his face. If one’s eyes were particularly sharp though, perhaps they would note he was actually very interested… but not in the city. Instead, he was studying the people. Particularly those in groups. He found himself in quite a perplexing situation, where he felt he needed to do something for Diane. However, he couldn’t recall the last time he had ever been someone’s friend. He had no idea what to do at all, and if he couldn’t do it right, then his pride wouldn’t let him do anything at all.

Sweets? He imagined getting stabbed for being insensitive. Wine? She’s a minor! Absolutely not! A massage? That was a big N.O. He was over 10,000 years old and she was 8! So what if he looked like a kid, wrong was wrong. Even Daemons and Demons can have some values and morals. I suspect burning city wouldn't help either. Most humans didn't enjoy the same things he did, so Thistleman pretty much eliminated anything he would do to improve his mood. Not to mention... I can't do most things I would want to do anyways.

Thistleman’s repressed a sigh, his deadpan exterior concealed the inner turmoil he was going through. As far as he was concerned, this was the toughest trial he had ever suffered through in his entire life. It would be nice to go back to doing something simpler again... perhaps giving this world a good purge too.

It was in this fashion the carriage passed through the city, eventually entering the trade district. It consisted of a huge open field, with numerous paths crisscrossing it like ant tunnels. Stalls filled the roadsides selling all manner of goods, with people drinking and laughing. Some would throw copper coins into the scattered fountains for luck. A good collection clearly sat in the water for some time, having turned a pleasant shade of bluish-green.

Along the outer ring were the major shops; Alchemy stores had rows of various potions on display, while magic stores had wands, staves, scrolls and amulets. Next to them were the armor shops and weapon shops, selling goods produced from the blacksmiths that they had passed by earlier, as well as goods traded with adventurers. In the center of the park stood three buildings that made up the heart of the city; the adventurer’s guild hall, the shrine to Uke Mochi, and the Ducal Knight’s garrison. Each had the wealth of the city on full display, and were bustling with activity.

Amongst the various traders, throngs of people were congregating and haggling. From well-dressed nobles wearing flashy outfits heavily adorned with jewelry, with servants and slaves in tow, to Mages in all manners and colors of robes and some with large pointy hats, closely followed by their apprentices. There were also the numerous middle-class workers, adventurers and knights, as well as the countless peasants and street urchins deftly dodging their superiors.

Outside the carriage, people carried on with various conversations. Thistleman abstractedly listened in, although he found very little of particular interest.

**

“What is this weapon? Is it some kind of special stick?” Asked an adventurer, curiosity and wonder filled his eyes as he perused the wares of a particularly nice weapon stand.

“Hah! What you are holding is the newest creation of the dwarves! My seller wouldn’t tell me how he got a hold of it, but he said they called it a Magi-Rifle! You can recharge it by changing out the mana crystal here…” The merchant's face beamed with pride, as he strode into making his sales pitch.

“Incredible! It seems no one can match the creativity and skill of the dwarves these days. I hear their cities are an incredible sight to see, like a whole other world!”

**

“Fortunes! Fortunes! You look like a lucky fellow… come… I sense… a dear family member wants to speak with you!” An elderly old crone waved to a young couple with her gnarled handing, motioning for them to come over.

“What a fraud, lets just ignore her dear!” The young woman pulled on the arm of her date.

**

“Come get the newest delicacy trending in the Empire! These candied apples are the delicacy of their nobility and usually sell for 5 silver, but I am selling them to you today for a mere 20 copper each!” A merchant-chef in a white apron hollered out into the crowds, as a small vat next to him spat out steam. He would stab a fresh apple on a stick and dip it into the caramel-colored substance in his vat, before passing it out to the small crowd around his stall.

“I’ll take one… hey! Thief! Someone catch that kid, he just stole my wallet! Ani-san, grab me one too, I’ll try it after I catch this kid!” A filthy street urchin dodged out of the crowd, running off just to be plucked up by a nearby guard who confiscated his ill-gotten gains.

**

“Darrrliiing, you said you are from a rich family, and this amulet would look so good on me, can you pleaaase get it for me?” A noble woman in a garish red dress pouted to her boyfriend in front of one of the proper storefronts, while she pressed herself tightly against him.

“The Madame had a wonderful eye, and this amulet is blessed by Inari! I can guarantee if you get it today, you will have many healthy children in the future! Please, come inside and try it on...” The well-dressed commissionaire ushered the woman with her smitten man inside.

**

A crier stood upon a small platform with a banner waving behind him. On the banner was a knight kneeling, holding his sword with the tip pointed straight to the ground in front of him, and his head lowered, and the moon was rising in the background behind the knight. To his right was a well-staffed table filling out rosters, as adventurers and down-on-their-luck individuals lined up.

“The Goblins, Hobgoblins and Orcs in the Western mountains have formed an alliance of several tribes, but fear not! The Great Count Horatio is putting together a subjugation force of talented adventurers, and the church has pledged to support him with their clerics! Food and lodging guaranteed, with pay of 20 copper per day and a bonus for every slain foe!” The crier cheered out, his voice enhanced by an enchanted megaphone to ring above the din.

“THAT count Horatio is going? With the Church? This mission is practically a guaranteed win!” One armored adventurer spoke to the team with him, sporting a wide and greedy grin.

“This will be the easiest coin I have earned all year! How much is the bonus per head?” The bowman in the group asked.

“Hah, that would be the least of your worries John, you have enough trouble killing sewer rats.” The girl in the robes and pointy hat practically dropped a broadside on their ranger.

“Your one to talk Beth, you ran away from a small sewer spider!” The flustered ranger shot back, as their party moved to join the line at the tables.

Thistleman's willpower finally failed, as he rolled his eyes with maximum disappointment. Is that really a standard here? Running from small spiders? Seriously?

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