The scenery outside the carriage slowly slid by as the vehicle rocked across the countryside outside Bridgespell, though Scarlett paid it little mind. Her attention was fixed on the two items resting in her lap.

[Old dagger (Common)]{An old dagger once belonging to a young noble lady, a gift from her master. It appears utterly mundane}

[Old Journal (Common)]{An old journal once belonging to a noble young lady, but long since abandoned by its owner}

These two items comprised essentially everything of notable worth gained from her excursion to the Sunfire Shrine. Not that they appeared to hold much value. The dagger looked about as ordinary as any other one could find, and the journal only held significance if one considered Arlene and her siblings’ past interesting, which Scarlett supposed that she did.

But even then, appearances could also be deceiving.

She traced the tip of her finger along the dagger’s cold blade, contemplating its hidden potential.

A horse’s neigh from outside drew her gaze to the window. A tall man in black plate rode past the carriage at a sedate trot, his hand patting the animal’s neck as he approached another rider up ahead. Scarlett’s eyes lingered on the knight for a moment before returning to the items on her lap.

The duke’s men were accompanying them to their current destination as part of the deal Scarlett had struck with the man. Still, it would be some time before they would reach their goal.

Once again, she examined the dagger before her, intrigued by the concealed power beneath its unassuming exterior. Despite herself, Scarlett felt a twinge of envy towards Arlene, knowing that it technically belonged to the woman and that she would have to part with it upon her return to Freymeadow. She hadn’t been expecting to keep it to begin with, but knowing its true nature and having it in her hands made it hard not to feel this way.

Maybe it was a tad juvenile of her, but she liked to blame that particular aspect of her on the original Scarlett rather than taking responsibility for it herself. Arlene had done a lot for her, after all.

Her focus turned to the weathered journal beside the dagger. Its plain cover was closed, but she had already examined part of its contents. As she had initially assumed, much of the journal was filled with notes on magic theory, training sessions, and other topics that a young mage might jot down. In a sense, it was fascinating, although many of its entries were beyond what Scarlett could follow, given her general lack of education as a mage. Perhaps she could find those notes useful if she ever had a year or two to devote to studying magic, but she didn’t. Besides, she was already receiving instruction from Arlene on the stuff that she could learn.

The journal had confirmed one thing for Scarlett, however: her suspicion that Arlene and her fellow disciples had held noble status of some sort. Although never explicitly stated, the notes contained enough implications to infer as much. The specific house they would have belonged to was unclear, but given that over three centuries had passed, Scarlett doubted she would recognize it even if it were mentioned.

What role Arlene’s status as a noblewoman played in her life remained somewhat of a mystery to Scarlett, though. Arlene herself didn’t appear particularly fond of the aristocracy, and she hardly acted like a member of it. While Scarlett didn’t quite want to admit it, she found herself relating somewhat with the author of the journal—Arlene’s older sister—who had penned numerous complaints about Arlene’s behaviour. The notes suggested that their master, Deacon Emberwood, might have played favorites among his disciples, at least to a certain extent. While the author herself seemed talented enough at magic, as did the deacon’s third disciple—ostensibly the younger brother among the three siblings—the spotlight unquestionably shone on Arlene, much to the author’s chagrin. Especially considering Arlene’s less than ‘dignified’ demeanor.

Scarlett imagined that the original Scarlett might have harbored similar sentiments towards Evelyne. Reading the journal entries detailing that subject had even stirred up echoes of those emotions.

That aside, the journal offered her a different perspective of Arlene than the one she was used to, which was interesting. The Arlene she knew always carried an air of seriousness and melancholy that was hard to ignore. The journal, however, depicted a considerably more cheerful Arlene overall. While some traits remained consistent, such as the woman’s laid-back disposition, it still painted a rather different picture of Arlene than the one Scarlett was familiar with.

Part of this contrast could probably be attributed to Arlene’s younger age at the time—the journal seemed to have been penned during the siblings’ teenage years—but that likely wasn’t all. Considering the unfortunate set of circumstances that led to Arlene being in Freymeadow, Scarlett didn’t think it unreasonable for the woman to have changed as she did.

Most would have been affected in some way.

Scarlett returned the journal and dagger to her [Pouch of Holding] for now as she reclined against the cushioned cabin seat. Her attention turned to the passing scenery outside, trying not to think about anything specific. She’d had her fill of somber thoughts lately, and a break seemed overdue.

However, said break didn’t last long. Before she knew it, she found her thoughts preoccupied with her current objective and the Rosa situation, all the while mentally scolding herself for worrying needlessly.

There really wasn’t any point to it.

The carriage continued its journey on the dirt roads, with Duke Valentino’s men occasionally riding by outside the window. Eventually, the vehicle pulled to a halt at a crossroads, surrounded by expansive, bare fields. Scarlett watched as a robustly built man in grey plate armor, his hair touched by silver and a scar cutting across his chin, dismounted from his horse further down the road. He started making his way back towards Scarlett’s carriage.

She opened the glass window, inviting the cool breeze inside.

“Baroness Hartford,” the man spoke in a deep voice as he stopped just outside, his head level with Scarlett’s shoulders. “We’re still half a day’s march away from Liverline Marsh, but if we continue east from here, we’ll get there eventually. Are you confident this is the correct route?”

Scarlett’s gaze lingered on him briefly before sweeping over the rest of the procession behind and ahead of the carriage. It was a sizeable group, consisting of knights and uniformed individuals on horseback, all alert and scanning their surroundings as if expecting a band of bandits to appear at any moment.

The duke had hastily assembled this group following their discussion earlier that day. Comprising a few dozen or so of the most capable people he’d had available, it was clear that most of them had experience from similar expeditions. Duke Valentino himself had thought it best to wait another day before departing, but Scarlett had been the one to insist on setting out immediately. If she wanted to assist Rosa in any meaningful manner, she couldn’t afford to wait around doing nothing.

Drawing from her in-game knowledge, she knew exactly where their quarry was. For once, it hadn’t even been necessary for her to waste time trying to interpret maps and compare them with what she recognized. One single look at a map of the region had been enough to pinpoint their destination. There were only so many swamps in the area near Crowcairn, after all.

She returned her attention to the silver-haired man looking up at her through the carriage window. His name was Franke Home, and he was one of the duke’s most experienced retainers. He had apparently served as a Solar Knight during his youth and currently held the position of captain for the Sable Knights, working directly under Duke Valentino’s command. Many of the knights that had joined them were members of that order.

Scarlett had no doubt about his strength. All the people selected by the duke for this expedition were bound to be capable in their own right. The question, however, was whether their collective might would be enough to confront a threat on par with a dragon. Though she had been the one advocating swift action—and considered it impressive that the duke had been able to muster a dragon-slaying force this quickly—she did have her reservations about their chances as they were. There was a certain threshold in a monster’s power where sheer numbers ceased to matter against them, and the individual combatant’s strength played a much more crucial part.

She herself couldn’t tell what level this group was at. She had asked Fynn, who’d said they were impressive enough, but ‘impressive’ wasn’t always enough to fell a dragon.

She supposed she would simply have to wait and see how things unfolded. Worst came to worst, she and her party might help out a bit if she deemed it safe and that it would balance the odds.

“While I entrust the necessary precautions and preparations to you, Sir Home,” she addressed the knight captain, “I ask that you leave the task of locating our quarry to me. If you lead our procession towards the Liverline marsh, I can assure you that we will find what we seek. The duke has already seen fit to entrust me with this task, so I suggest you trust his judgement.”

The man regarded her thoughtfully for a few seconds before offering a measured nod. “Then we will continue from here. We’ll press on without breaks until the marsh comes into view. Keep that in mind.”

“Duly noted.”

With that, he turned around and retraced his steps towards his horse, signaling the resumption of their journey shortly thereafter.

Scarlett closed the window to prevent more of the cold air from seeping into the carriage, using her pyrokinesis to warm things up slightly as she gazed at the darkening sky. Evening hadn’t fully descended yet, but nightfall came rather suddenly at this time of year. At their current pace, they would reach their destination under the cover of darkness. Not the most ideal conditions when preparing for a confrontation with a dragon, but there wasn’t much to be done about it.

At least she had her enchanted glasses, which allowed her to see no matter how dark it was. She assumed the duke’s men had their own means of addressing the issue. She didn’t feel like serving as a living lantern if they didn’t.

Their destination lay southeast of Bridgespell, situated on the edges of where the Faywild Basin started. Although Crowcairn was only an hour or two away, they weren’t headed directly to the village itself.

“So, we’re really going to fight a dragon?” Allyssa’s voice broke the silence in the cabin. Scarlett turned her gaze towards the young Shielder, who sat across from her and next to Shin.

“Our objective is to assist in locating one, at the very least,” Scarlett answered. “We will not be engaging in battle with it unless it is safe and absolutely necessary.”

Calling it a dragon was also a bit of a lie, but she couldn’t very well share that right now.

Allyssa pressed her lips together. “That doesn’t really fill me with confidence, honestly. Dragons aren’t exactly the type of monster to let you stroll by unbothered. I’m not saying I’m worried about coming across one, although I kinda am, but I feel like there are so many things that could go wrong here. There are very few members of the Shields Guild who have experience dealing with dragons.”

“You’ve encountered one dragon before,” Fynn said. “That should calm you a bit. They’re similar in many ways. Aside from their color, size, intelligence, and unique abilities, they’re all basically the same. Not much to worry over.”

The girl looked at him with a skeptical expression, then turned to Shin. “Okay, next time, you’re in charge of pep talks, because that didn’t help at all.”

Shin offered Fynn an apologetic smile, and Scarlett watched as the white-haired young man shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he had done his best.

She wasn’t sure whether to be proud or disappointed that he had failed so miserably in delivering such a blatant lie.

Allyssa shook her head. “For starters, I happen to think there’s a pretty big difference between a dead dragon and an alive one. Any reasonable person would be worried in my shoes.” She turned to Scarlett. “I do trust your judgement, though. It just has my nerves in a bundle, thinking that we might encounter a real, breathing dragon soon. Doesn’t help that Rosa isn’t here.”

“That is understandable.” Scarlett imagined that a lot of Shielders would simply have declined to join her on a venture that sounded this dangerous. “As for Rosa, I am sure she would have accompanied us if she could. As it is, we will have to wait until she has concluded her personal matters before she returns.”

Though she had informed the group that Rosa was away to deal with some private affairs in the area, she had omitted the details. While she personally thought Rosa would fare better by being more open about these things, Scarlett had no intention of disclosing anything herself.

“The timing might not be ideal, but we understand that she has sensitive matters to deal with on her own,” Shin said.

Allyssa nodded beside him. “Yeah, of course. It just feels a bit quiet without her, that’s all.”

Scarlett glanced to her left, to the space between her and Fynn, where Rosa typically sat. It was true that the bard’s absence left a noticeable void in the group. In a way, that brought with it a calm that made things more relaxing. Scarlett might even have savored it if not for the other pressing matters weighing on her mind.

Yet, she couldn’t deny that she preferred having Rosa around, despite the woman’s quirks.

She kept those thoughts to herself, however, as she turned her attention back out the window, watching the fields pass by in the dimming light. The cabin descended into a dull silence. Both Allyssa and Shin brought out some books to read—the former focusing on some texts related to alchemy, while the latter immersed himself in some treatise between the Rising Isle and the empire—while Fynn simply went into one of his meditative trances.

They traveled for several more hours, the scenery gradually shifting from fields and small hills to occasional woods and wetlands. Eventually, Scarlett brought out her enchanted glasses as the sun disappeared completely.

As they approached their destination, the landscape transformed even further. Oaks and birch trees gave way to willows, gums, and bald cypresses. The terrain grew marshier, and Scarlett observed the duke’s men occasionally swatting at insects as they rode alongside the carriage.

It was a pretty distinct transition between biomes, and probably not something often witnessed even in this fantasy world. The Faywild Basin didn’t get its name without reason, and even on its periphery, the otherworldly influence of the Wandering Realm could be seen.

As they reached the border of what appeared to be a swamp, the wetlands had overtaken the area, and the dirt road had devolved into little more than a muddy trail along the swamp’s edge. The procession finally came to a halt, with the carriage at its center. Scarlett watched as the other members of the troupe dismounted, producing magical lanterns and setting up a makeshift camp on the side of the trail.

Her gaze shifted towards the nearby swamp, where the thick vegetation seemed to sag under its own weight.

Not many ventured into the wilds unless they were experienced in doing so or aboard one of the ships that traveled its numerous rivers from deeper within the empire. Admittedly, she wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about plunging into those murky depths either. Sadly, progressing any further by carriage wasn’t an option.

But complaining at this juncture served little purpose. What needed to be done simply had to be done. With a mental command, she swapped her insulated dress into her usual expedition attire, then opened the carriage door and stepped out onto the soggy ground.

It was time to get to work.