Once Ryan and Jelona had finished cleaning up the signs of battle, Ryan took out the spatial pouch at his waist and made a show of putting things away. In reality, he had sent the rogue's corpse into his own demiplane.
Watching Ryan, Jelona couldn't help marveling. No wonder Mages were the richest and most expensive profession in Faerûn. They could even use a portable spatial pouch to store corpses.
At Jelona's curious look, Ryan explained, "Sometimes, the dead are more useful than the living."
Jelona nodded. The assassin was the Mage's spoils, after all. What he did with the corpse was his business, and she had no intention of arguing over such things.
Seeing how sensible she was, Ryan felt a little more fond of her. He knew she hadn't understood what he really meant, but that didn't stop him from appreciating how quiet his teammate was.
"Corpse Explosion, undead puppets, and the creation of Black Knights all require the corpses of powerful beings. Besides, I need proof to demand compensation from the Mages Guild. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. If they don't give me several thousand Gold Talons for this corpse, I'll cry, throw a tantrum, and threaten to hang myself right at the Mages Guild's entrance."
The unscrupulous Mage was brewing a bellyful of schemes, and the smile at the corner of his mouth turned rather strange.
As for dignity? Ryan, who had finally gotten a second chance at life, didn't think it mattered much.
After finishing all the little chores, Ryan took out a new, intact Mage's robe and pulled its hood over his handsome face once more.
Watching him, Jelona was a little puzzled. He'd already let her see everything, so what was there to hide?
Curious, the Half-elf Ranger asked outright, "Why are you hiding yourself?"
Normally, when someone was as strikingly handsome as him, they couldn't wait to show off their charm and bearing on the world's stage. They would have wanted everyone's eyes on them. Jelona had seen plenty of young people like that during her adventures.
Most of them were conceited fools, and Jelona disdained them. But compared to this Mage, who was so reserved he seemed downright timid, they were nothing. Was all this really necessary?
In response to the Half-elf's question, Ryan simply replied, "People tend to be wary of a mysterious Mage whose strength is hard to fathom, but they don't take a young boy seriously. I don't want to attract unnecessary trouble because of my appearance."
Fair enough. Ryan's explanation was sound, and Jelona had no rebuttal. But she suddenly realized that, without noticing it, she had grown intensely curious about this mysterious young Mage. That was why she was paying such close attention to everything he did.
It's hard not to be curious about such a young, powerful Mage. Besides, he'll be my companion for the journey ahead. The more I know about him, the better I can plan our route, right? The Half-elf, who was a sucker for handsome faces, silently made excuses for herself.
Jelona returned to her usual brisk manner and asked Ryan with a smile, "You don't have a mount, do you? Why not ride back on my Mousse with me?"
"Mousse?" Ryan asked in confusion.
"Here, that's her." At her owner's call, a sturdy Black Panther sprang out from nearby and affectionately rubbed her big head against Jelona. Then she stuck out her tongue and licked the Half-elf Ranger's pretty face.
Jelona rubbed the big cat's head, patted her back, and swung herself up onto the saddle. Then she looked at Ryan, who was standing nearby.
Ryan considered it for a moment. Fly was certainly convenient for traveling, but the bitter wind over the Northlands at night was unbearable. Since the Half-elf Ranger didn't mind, it would be a little fussy of him to complain like that.
"All right, sorry for the trouble." Ryan agreed, then swung himself up onto the Black Panther's back.
The intelligent Black Panther let out a grumbling growl and shot Ryan an unhappy look over her shoulder. Jelona hurried to soothe her animal companion, who was displeased to have a stranger riding on her back.
"Hold on tight. I'm speeding up. Hey, what are you hesitating for? Grab on! Wait, don't grab my belt—move your hand lower!" Amid a flurry of chaos, the two people and the panther gradually disappeared into the distance.
By the time they returned to the caravan, the battlefield had mostly been cleaned up. The caravan's furious guards had finished off the surviving Orc warriors, one by one. All the corpses had been buried in a freshly dug pit, while their weapons and armor had been stripped away and piled onto an empty wagon.
A few fires still burned across the field, consuming scattered debris and scraps of cloth. They brought a little light to this night, so full of surprises.
The people tending to the wounded and cleaning up the battlefield looked at the two returnees with delight. Their eyes shone with joy, respect, and awe—nothing like the fear they had shown before.
In Faerûn, people deeply feared Mages because of their destructive power and all their forbidden magical experiments. But more often than not, fear outweighed respect. In some regions, ordinary people without talent were even deeply wary of magic.
Thanks to Ryan turning the tide in the crisis, he had practically single-handedly helped the caravan defeat the brutal Orcs. The surviving guards and laborers had completely changed their opinion of the powerful, mysterious Mage.
His suspicious attire was probably just a Mage's eccentricity. Underneath that mysterious appearance, he was actually a dependable, good person. That was what most people in the caravan thought.
Ryan, looking pale, didn't have the energy to care what others thought of him. He'd never expected that, despite never getting carsick in his previous life—not on speeding unicycles, bumpy motorized tricycles, buses winding through city streets, or high-speed trains—he'd somehow get panther-sick in another world!
Ryan shakily climbed down from the Black Panther. Only after his feet touched solid ground did he begin to feel steady again, and his pale complexion slowly returned to normal.
The Black Panther crouched nearby, glanced at Ryan, and gave a disdainful snort, openly mocking him.
Seeing Ryan put on a brave face and pretend he was fine, Jelona chuckled softly. After spending some time with him, she had figured out what he was like. His cool, mysterious exterior was just a shield to keep idiots at a distance. Once you got to know him, he was quite easy to talk to. He was a pretty reliable companion, too.
Hearing her laugh, Ryan glared at the gleeful Half-elf. So what if she had Elf blood? She was using the exceptional balance she'd developed in the dense forests to bully a sixteen-year-old like him. Just wait—when he got the chance, he'd let her experience the thrill of speeding through the sky.
Ryan had inherited his fear of heights from his previous life. Before he first used Levitate to take flight, he'd struggled to overcome his fear before finally managing to get airborne. Even knowing that Levitate would keep him aloft, he had still been terrified during his first flight.
But once he experienced the freedom of flying through the boundless sky, Ryan had fallen completely in love with the feeling.
Just then, the other two mercenaries, who had finished tending to their wounds, came over and asked about the Orcs who had escaped. In fact, the Dwarf shield warrior hadn't been badly hurt in his fight with the Orc captain, thanks to his short stature and superb defensive skills. The Orc captain had smashed several dents into his beloved shield during the battle, leaving him heartbroken.
The one who was truly badly injured was the Barbarian, who had charged straight into the Orcs while raging. He had slaughtered his way through them, but had also taken several deep wounds along the way.
Still, the Barbarian had tough skin thanks to his highland bloodline. The rage ability passed down in his blood made him grow stronger as the fight went on, while also helping him keep his wounds from worsening. Now that he'd left the battlefield, white bandages covered his body. He looked badly hurt, but all he really needed was some rest. Still, he wouldn't be able to rage again for another two months.
"How did it go? Were the remaining Orcs dealt with?" the Dwarf asked Jelona bluntly.
"I took care of all the remaining Orcs. We can breathe easy now; there's no need to worry about Orc reinforcements attacking us." Ryan cut in, then gave Jelona, whose answer he had interrupted, a meaningful glance.
"Ah, yes. That's right. The remaining Orcs have all been dealt with." Jelona hesitated when she caught Ryan's look, then followed his lead as she answered the Dwarf.
The Dwarf glanced suspiciously at the two exchanging looks, but ultimately didn't press them for an explanation. He was a straightforward Dwarf and trusted Jelona, a companion he respected. He just thought there was something odd between the two of them.
Why are those two acting so strangely? They're like griffins back home when they're in heat. But whatever. Jelona's reliable, so it's fine. The Dwarf couldn't make heads or tails of the complicated looks between humans and Elves. Dwarves were much easier to talk to.
The honest-looking Barbarian stood to one side, hugging his enormous double-bladed greatsword and grinning foolishly as he calculated his spoils from the day. He hadn't paid the slightest attention to the conversation among the other three.
After the four had talked for a while, the caravan leader, Sphinx, hurried over. As soon as he arrived, he bowed to the Mage among them and thanked him. "Lord Ryan, thank you so much for coming to our aid! Without you, our entire caravan might have been wiped out. Please accept this small token of my appreciation." As he spoke, he handed Ryan an ornate purse embroidered with gold thread.
Ryan knew that if he refused, Sphinx would worry that the Mage was about to abandon the caravan, which had become a burden.
So he nodded and accepted the purse. "How bad are the caravan's losses? I took care of the Orcs who fled earlier, so no more should come for a while. We need to get moving and clear this stretch of road as soon as possible."
Sphinx relaxed at his words and replied, "Thanks to you, our losses weren't too bad. Four guards died in the Orcs' first charge. Another five or six were killed or badly wounded in the fighting that followed. Some of the laborers and slaves fled into the darkness during the battle. I doubt we'll find them again."
As he spoke, Sphinx felt deeply relieved. If they hadn't happened to run into the Mage looking for a ride before this trip, who knew what might have happened? Given the Orcs' brutality, the caravan would probably have ended up like that unfortunate group they'd encountered earlier. Lady Waukeen was indeed looking out for him.
"Thankfully, we didn't lose many of the wagons or draft animals. We'll tidy things up and make a few repairs, then we can set out again," Sphinx continued.
"Good. Then hurry up and get things in order. The sooner we leave, the better. No need to invite trouble by lingering," Ryan said to Sphinx, whose relief was mixed with flattery.
"I'll go rest as well and recover today's Spell Slots."
Ryan headed toward his wagon. As he passed the Half-elf Ranger, who had kept her eyes on him since their conversation ended, he paused and said quietly, "Come by my wagon in the morning. I'll explain everything then."
Before you continue