That's More Like It

At first, many of the nobles still put on a show and rode their horses forward. But after the first day passed, most of them could no longer take it. Those with carriages lay comfortably inside them, nobles like Boris having long been prepared for this.

Even nobles without luxurious carriages simply lay down in the wagons carrying supplies.

Those nobles could lie flat and choose a comfortable way to march, but Nalant had hardships he could not speak of.

That was because the other nobles were all at the rear, with no one keeping an eye on them.

But Nalant was following at Bernard's side. The earl rode the entire way, and so did the other noble vassals.

Only Stella had been persuaded by the earl on the second day to return to her carriage.

But Stella was a girl, and Nalant naturally could not compare himself to her. In the end, he could only grit his teeth and ride White Dragon alongside Bernard and the others.

As a result, Nalant had been sucking in cold breaths every night these past two days, nearly draining all the cold air from his tent.

Both sides of his thighs had been rubbed raw with blisters.

Fortunately, he had Vini, that miraculous gifted girl. After sucking in a few cold breaths, Nalant's injuries always recovered quickly, and the next day he would be alive and kicking again.

The nobles who had wanted to see Nalant make a fool of himself were all astonished. They had thought that, on his first journey of such length, Nalant would surely be unable to endure it.

And Nalant truly had been like that at first. Every afternoon, his expression would turn strange, and he would hunch over his horse like a shrimp.

Yet by the next