A Difficult Journey and Jelona's Past

The caravan wound its way along the broad, twisting road. Ryan, having finished his daily meditation, looked out the window at the peaceful, endless expanse of the Golden Plains. Recalling the arduous journey of the past month, he sighed, "Finally, we're almost there. I've truly had enough of those stubborn, crazed Orcs."

After that night attack, Ryan had successfully finished off the remaining Orc Wolf Riders, and together with Jelona, they had scrubbed the battlefield clean of any traces.

Yet, after three or four days of peaceful travel, the Orc tribe—having sensed something amiss—dispatched scouts skilled in tracking to follow the caravan's trail.

When their initial probing attack was repelled by the patrolling half-elf ranger and her fellow adventurers, the Orcs realized the caravan possessed significant strength. Through slow, methodical testing, they gradually deduced who was responsible for the disappearance of their raiding party.

Thus, for the next half-month, the Orcs began a relentless cycle of harassment and assault. Day or night, there were always a few Orc Wolf Riders trailing far behind the caravan, occasionally forming small squads to launch probing attacks against the weary travelers, leaving the caravan guards and those tasked with constant vigilance—like Jelona and the Dwarf Kasla—utterly exhausted.

Facing the Orcs' war of attrition, Ryan had no perfect solution. Although he had once caught a squad of Wolf Riders off guard with a combination of invisibility, Magic Missile, and Fireball, it did not deter the Orcs. Instead, it only enraged the bloodthirsty, brutal creatures, making their subsequent raids and harassment even more frequent.

Despite leaving behind the corpses of one or two companions with every attack, the cruel Orcs seemed entirely indifferent, continuing their ways as if they were greedy, salivating hyenas circling and chasing a lone piece of prey across the wilderness.

Faced with such insane and persistent Orcs, the caravan members were filled with helplessness and pain. A moment of distraction meant a sudden Orc arrow in the night, or a berserk Orc warrior rushing from the roadside with a great axe. The number of people injured or killed in sneak attacks during this period exceeded the casualties from the initial battle.

Had Ryan not sensed the danger and kept his magical detection and Spell Eye active all day, coordinating with the vigilant half-elf ranger to monitor their surroundings, the caravan's losses would likely have been several times worse.

Ryan himself was exhausted, having used two of his own stored energy potions just to hold out until the caravan finally exited the Everlasting Wasteland and reached the outskirts of human civilization.

The Orcs' attacks were so frantic and brutal that the entire caravan was gripped by anxiety. If not for the day-and-night rotation of the adventurers, Sphinx's promise of double pay upon reaching Waterdeep, and the confidence inspired by the mysterious mage in their ranks, the entire caravan might have collapsed under the strain of high-intensity travel and constant fear.

Even so, by the final few days, even the most energetic and thick-skinned barbarian in the group had become listless, longing for the end of this journey.

Upon reaching the border of the Everlasting Wasteland, near the sphere of influence of Yartar, the Orcs—having gained little from their long pursuit—organized one final assault, seeing that their window of opportunity was closing.

However, a frustrated Ryan simply cast Fly, layered two defensive shields, and kited them from the sky, raining down Magic Missiles and Fireballs until he drove the attack back, leaving behind a pile of severed limbs as the survivors retreated in dismay.

Once they reached Yartar, the exhausted and somber caravan finally regained its morale, and everyone was able to breathe a sigh of relief. The caravan decided to rest in Yartar for two days, allowing everyone to slowly recover.

During this time, Sphinx sought out Ryan twice in private, expressing his heartfelt gratitude for the mage's protection along the way and promising an even greater reward once they reached Waterdeep.

"Hey, finished your lessons for the day?" The half-elf ranger's cool, melodious voice rang out beside him.

Lost in trivial thoughts, Ryan looked toward the beautiful half-elf who had just finished her patrol and was riding her Black Panther toward him. He smiled and said, "Of course. How about you? Finished your rounds?"

The half-elf pursed her red lips and said, "We've reached the Golden Plains; what is there left to patrol? The armies sent out by Waterdeep every year aren't just for show. Besides the endless Goblins on the trade route, what other dangers could there be? It's not like before." Recalling the crazed, brutal Orcs they had encountered, the half-elf still felt a lingering fear.

"Better safe than sorry. We're almost at Waterdeep; have you really made up your mind?" Ryan didn't want to dwell on that painful, agonizing experience, so he decisively changed the subject.

"Of course. I gave my word that we'd face it together. An Elf's promise, you know." Jelona raised an eyebrow, looking unhappily at the mage who was smiling faintly inside the carriage.

Ryan smiled and said nothing more.

Over the past month, Ryan and Jelona had stood guard and fought side-by-side, forging a deep friendship.

Ryan hadn't expected the cold, unapproachable half-elf beauty he first met to be a chatterbox who was cold on the outside but warm on the inside. During night watches, she would often come to talk to him, prying into the various legends of Faerûn from the knowledgeable and well-read Ryan. She seemed to have become addicted to it, actively seeking him out every night.

In exchange, Jelona shared her own adventures.

Growing up as a half-elf in the Moon Forest, Jelona never understood why her mother, a long-lived and beautiful Elf, had fallen in love with her father, a low-ranking bard.

It wasn't that her father was a bad man; in her childhood memories, Jelona had quite liked the handsome man who would lift her high and tell her all sorts of bedtime stories.

When that man was with her and her mother, he was always gentle. He would play with her while her mother prepared dinner, willing to crawl on the ground like a horse, letting the little girl shriek with excitement on his back, only to be called up by her feigning-anger mother to eat. The scene of their happy, laughing family of three at the dinner table still felt as if it were right before her eyes.

But the more she remembered, the less Jelona could accept that one day, after receiving a message from afar, the man had said his old comrades needed his help, bid farewell to her reluctant mother and the then-oblivious little girl, and left, never to return. He left her mother behind to grieve and weep in sorrow every day.

Later, her mother took the young Jelona back to her homeland, the Moon Forest, to grow up among her kin.

Although the gentle Elves held no prejudice against the half-elf girl with human blood, she still couldn't quite fit in with the peace-loving Elves. The stubborn girl had strived with all her might to take top marks in every training assessment just to make her mother happy, but she often returned home only to find her mother gazing into the distance, filled with longing and sorrow.

Jelona could never understand why a man who loved her mother and their home so much could be so heartless. Deep down, she even developed a mix of intense curiosity and resentment toward the man called "father."

After coming of age and learning that the man who never took anything seriously had once been an adventurer, and hearing the true reason for his departure from her mother, Jelona resolutely left the familiar Moon Forest and embarked on the path of an adventurer.

She wanted to understand why that man would abandon his family for such a cause, and in her heart, she even hoped that one day, during her travels, she might meet him and ask him to his face if he had ever regretted it.

After a period of growth and various adventures, Jelona slowly learned to mask herself with indifference and gradually found partners she could trust with her back—but that, in itself, was another long story.

Watching the ranger, whose thoughts were drifting far away, a trace of sorrow and nostalgia unconsciously appearing on her beautiful face, Ryan pondered for a moment before softly chanting a spell. A modified version of Frost was activated. With his superb casting technique and precise control, Ryan carefully carved the magical model, and a blooming, exquisite, and translucent Moonflower slowly emerged from his hand.

Ryan called out to the half-elf ranger outside the window and handed her the flower made of ice: "Here. I don't know what you're thinking about, but have a Moonflower. A specialty of the Moon Forest, a symbol of purity and beauty. May it bring you happiness."

Jelona stared blankly at the beautiful flower held in his fair, delicate hand, stunned.

"Don't just stare at it, it won't melt. Ice material, magical shaping, high-efficiency casting—one fake worth ten real ones. It'll last a week; if it expires, just come find me. Don't take it if you don't want it." Ryan said, looking at her stunned expression with a touch of annoyance.

Coming to her senses, Jelona snatched the ice-sculpted flower from Ryan's hand, carefully rubbing and playing with it, while rolling her eyes at him: "Why wouldn't I take it? You said it yourself, one fake worth ten real ones—I'm going to see if it's 'up to the task'." Having spent the whole journey with Ryan, Jelona had slowly learned to use some strange new terms, though it seemed she hadn't quite mastered them yet.

With that, Jelona couldn't put down the beautiful, crystal-clear ice flower that shimmered in the sunlight. A bright, happy, and warm smile bloomed on her face, and a faint blush crept up to her ears.

"Hey, I'm taking this flower! If it's not as good as you said, I'm coming for you!" The half-elf tried to look angry, feigning a threat, but she couldn't suppress the smile at the corners of her mouth. After having her say, she shyly rode her panther away.

Seeing the half-elf ranger's mood restored, a smile touched Ryan's lips as he watched her leave.

Looking toward the winding River Dessarin in the distance, Ryan saw the increasing number of travelers and messengers along the trade route.

Thin wisps of smoke rose from distant villages, and farmers carrying hoes walked in small groups along the paths between the fields. Before his eyes, he could almost see the towering walls and majestic gates of Waterdeep.

Ryan reached into his robe and touched the securely stored quest item, feeling the cold touch of the Magic-Sealing Stone. He smiled and muttered to himself, "The Zhentarim's grand scheme, the Mages Guild's series of movements... it seems this is going to be one spectacular show."