Traveling Together

"The wheat bread was indeed rich and delicious." Punk sat beside an old, long dining table, using a small knife to cut the wheat bread on his plate into nearly identical cubes.

"It is truly wonderful that Your Excellency finds it agreeable."

The baron gently set down the fork in his hand. The iron fork made not the slightest sound as it touched the plate.

Kane, sitting beside them, was clearly growing impatient with their official-sounding exchange. Though his father's authority kept him from gesturing wildly and blurting out nonsense again, the movements of his hands did nothing to hide his agitation.

From the corner of his eye, Punk saw Kane reducing the bread on his plate to crumbs with such speed that his hands nearly left afterimages. He could not help grumbling inwardly about the baron.

Are you two really father and son? Your personalities are way too different!

However, Punk also noticed carefully that although Kane was cutting the bread quickly and viciously, he had surprisingly never struck the bottom of the plate. The entire process was nearly silent.

I want to see what kind of act this father and son are putting on.

Only after secretly casting a minor toxicity detection spell did Punk put a cube of hard bread into his mouth. Only cautious mages lived long, and Punk had always been cautious. Still, he noticed that Kane, who had been so focused on making breadcrumbs, paused ever so slightly. Kane had clearly noticed his little trick.

Punk calmly chewed the bread. A wheat fragrance mixed with the scent of earth spread through his mouth. Though the bread was still somewhat hard, its fine grains seemed to massage his tongue, blending with the soft, glutinous wheat paste that melted in his mouth... Punk had to admit that much of his praise for this bread was not merely politeness.

Since the bread was so delicious, Punk simply ignored Kane, who had stopped making breadcrumbs, and the baron, who still sat ramrod straight. He cut another piece and put it into his mouth, then devoted himself wholeheartedly to savoring the bread.

Time passed bit by bit, and an oddly eerie silence settled over the dining table. Punk slowly finished his portion of bread with impeccable noble dining etiquette, while Kane, bored out of his mind, had carved the remaining half piece of bread beside him into a lifelike squirrel.

The baron waited meticulously until Punk had eaten every last bite before speaking unhurriedly.

"Is Your Excellency the mage planning to travel to Konola City? It is the nearest city from here, though you will still have to cross a vast stretch of wasteland."

"That is correct. I have heard that its cuisine is quite renowned and have long wished to sample it for myself. I did not expect to taste such delicious bread here already. Now I am looking forward to Konola City even more."

Punk replied with a faint smile.

"Indeed, the food in Konola City is delicious and distinctive. I went there once as a child, and I still remember it fondly."

With a nostalgic expression, the baron gently rubbed the corner of the table a few times.

"Come on, that dump is famous for producing leather from sand basket pigs..." Kane finally could not resist making a sarcastic remark.

"Stare..."

"Stare..."

Under the quiet stares of both the baron and Punk, Kane seemed as though he wanted to say something more. In the end, however, he lowered his head in silence and continued adding details to the squirrel he had carved.

"..."

"..."

The atmosphere became extremely awkward for a moment...

"...My eldest son will also be heading to Konola City soon. Why not travel together with Your Excellency?"

After a period of silence, the baron spoke rather abruptly.

Punk could not help frowning at that. The baron's words were far too sudden. Kane and he knew nothing about each other, and even now, Punk still held three parts hostility and seven parts wariness toward this seemingly unreliable knight. Yet the baron had apparently proposed cooperation without a second thought. No matter how he looked at it, it made little sense.

Kane also stopped carving the squirrel. Wearing a helpless expression, he looked at his old man and crossed his arms over his chest. He pursed his lips in obvious dissatisfaction, and his armguard struck his breastplate with a clank.

"Perhaps Baron, you do not know much about the strength of professionals... but if it is only a small stretch of wasteland... Apprentice Level strength should be more than sufficient."

Punk spoke to the baron in the most tactful tone he could manage.

"Perhaps Mage, you do not know much about the recent situation in the Morde Wasteland... but having merely heard news of some undead... I believe it is better to have a little more security."

The baron answered in an equally tactful tone.

"Furthermore, according to my merchant friend, an entire forest has been corroded by undead energy. The woods are full of skeletons wandering about everywhere. I believe Mage, who understands the strength of professionals quite well, should consider this carefully."

"...Undead?" Punk paid no attention to the baron's faintly mocking tone. He was recalling the information about undead from his stored knowledge.

There were many kinds of undead. Most of them hated all living beings, and their strength varied greatly. Their origins generally fell into three categories:

The first kind was "created" by professionals through summoning, synthesis, and similar methods. The strength of undead produced this way was directly tied to their creator.

The second kind was born in the Undead Plane. However, unless there were special circumstances, such undead found it difficult to descend into other planes. Positive-energy planes in particular were extremely hostile to all creatures of negative energy.

The third kind formed "naturally" through the gathering and catalysis of soul energy carrying large amounts of negative emotions. Typical examples were the ghosts and vengeful spirits commonly spoken of. However, such undead were generally weak and could only frighten ordinary people.

But... even if the baron's merchant friend exaggerated, and only a small grove was actually corrupted, that would still require at least Journeyman Level strength!

Punk thought silently.

"In my opinion, who cares what undead they are? If we cannot fight them, can't we just avoid them? Besides, I cultivate Light Battle Qi. Those skeletons are absolutely no match for me!"

As he spoke, Kane gathered a bit of battle qi at his fingernail and effortlessly carved a tiny sword-wielding figure into the wooden table.

Punk ignored Kane's boasting and continued questioning the baron. "May I ask when your friend told you this news?"

"A few days ago... Judging by the time, my friend should have returned to Konola City by now. However, he has never been well liked, nor does he have much wealth or influence. He is merely a small merchant. Even if he reported it to the church, those high-and-mighty clergy members would likely refuse to believe him."

The baron could tell that Punk wanted to know whether those church fanatics who shouted about "purifying everything" would get involved, so he helplessly crushed Punk's hopes of gaining an advantage from it.

"Come to think of it, the villages around here are extremely remote. Normally, only this old friend of mine passes through from time to time with a small merchant caravan. This time, he encountered undead, and my old friend happens to have a bad habit of being overly curious... He may well have gotten himself into danger..."

The baron looked heartbroken, though this time it did not seem to be an act.

Punk pretended not to hear the baron's implication that he hoped they would help rescue his friend. In truth, as far as Punk was concerned, whether that trouble-ridden fellow lived or died had nothing to do with him. Kane merely muttered perfunctorily, "Got it, got it," making it obvious that he did not want to bother with that merchant who had gone looking for death either.

Punk considered it seriously. He was not some overconfident mage. If he truly ran into a Journeyman Level powerhouse, the danger would be immense. If a martial professional worked with him, a spellcaster, then should any "accident" occur, his chances of escaping would at least be much greater. At worst, there would be another target to divide the pursuer's attention.

When he raised his head, Kane happened to be looking at Punk with the same far-reaching gaze.

Looks like we came to the same conclusion, Punk thought.

"Then, a pleasant cooperation." In the end, Punk said with a smile to the baron, whose expression had returned to calm indifference. Kane merely shrugged, indicating that he had no objection.