Tafel patted the horse’s head from her spot on the saddle. It neighed and pranced around, its tail swishing back and forth. It swiveled its neck, turning its head to lick Tafel’s face. “Don’t do that,” Tafel said with a scowl, and the horse’s tongue paused in midair, inches away from her skin. A second later, the horse righted itself, facing forward. Tafel waved her hand, and there was a thumping sound as the guide, who had previously been floating in the air, dropped to the ground, barely landing on his feet. “You said we needed to rent a boat?”

The guide raised his pale face, looking up towards Tafel, who was still seated atop the horse. “Or you can swim, Your Majesty.” He pointed across the water. “The visibility isn’t that great at night, but I assure you, England lies on the other side of this channel.”

“Alright,” Tafel said. She patted the horse. “How are you feeling? Ready to run across some water?”

The horse’s nostrils flared as it bobbed its head up and down. It neighed and rose up, lifting its front legs off the ground before heavily stomping them. The man’s face paled even more, and he stared at the traitorous horse with hollowed eyes. After the initial surprise of having its speed increased, the horse realized it loved running really fast. At least, that’s what it looked like in the guide’s eyes. The prancing, the happy neighing, the flicking of its tail, all those were signs of its happiness and excitement. Those actions used to be reserved for him, but now, his horse was showing signs of love to someone else just because she could make him run thirty times faster.

“Wait,” the man said. “Did you say run on water?”

“I said run across some water, but it’s pretty much the same thing,” Tafel said. She glanced at the man on the ground. His waist looked awfully thin thanks to the rope tied around it. “Are you ready?”

The man swallowed. “I don’t know how to swim.”

Tafel tilted her head. “Why does that matter? We’re not going to fall in.” She nodded. “If that’s your only objection, we’re going.” Before the guide could respond, Tafel raised the reins and whipped them down. Her horns glowed green, and swirls of wind enveloped the horse’s hooves. Without hesitation, the horse dashed forward, and the man screamed as he was dragged forward. He barely had time to jump, bringing himself into the air to prevent himself from making intimate contact with the ground. Water splashed through the air, and the horse neighed even harder as its hooves flashed on the surface of the channel.

For a brief moment, the man was terrified. The horse was definitely going to fall in! It’s true that he was flying, but that’s because of the rope and the wind and the principle of being a kite that Her Majesty brought up. The horse was different. However, after the horse ran over half the channel, his fear didn’t die down. It increased. Only Jesus could walk on water! What did this mean!? Her Majesty was able to do things only Jesus could do! The man swallowed and let himself be carried by the wind. He should’ve suspected something when she made the horse run thirty times faster. The horns and purple eyes were a bit suspicious too. Could it be? Was Her Majesty a devil? “Your Majesty!” the man shouted. However, the wind pressed his voice back into his mouth, and not a single peep came out. On second thought, the man figured it was better not to say anything.

While the guide was thinking, the horse made contact with land. Tafel tugged on the reins, and the horse came to a stop a few hundred meters away from the shore. With a plopping sound, the guide dropped to the ground, face first, completely unprepared as if he had been lost in thought. Tafel raised an eyebrow and nudged the man with a stick made of air. “Are you alright?”

“Your Majesty,” the man said, pushing himself up. His nose was bleeding. “I’m alright.”

Tafel scratched her head and looked away from the man’s bloody nose, feeling a tiny bit guilty. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, which way do we go now?”

“I’m not sure, Your Majesty.”

“You’re not sure?” Tafel blinked. “Aren’t you a guide?”

“Yes, but I was only told to come to England,” the man said. “According to the Elector of Saxony, once I arrived here, there’d be a group of people waiting for me. I’d boil some weeds and place the necklace into it. Then, I’d help you translate if necessary and wait for you to take me home through a portal. However, the people who I was supposed to make contact with, they’d expect us to arrive in a month, not a day after they received a letter saying we were setting off.”

Tafel scratched her neck. “So, even though I shortened the traveling time, I still have to wait?” Her brow furrowed. “Can’t you contact the people who were supposed to pick you up?”

“Our messaging system is based on courier pigeons, Your Majesty,” the guide said and wiped at his still-bleeding nose. “I didn’t bring any pigeons, and I don’t know if the Elector of Saxony knew we’d arrive in a day. If we’re lucky, they’ll pick us up in a week after receiving a letter from him.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve opened a few portals back in that castle,” Tafel said and nodded. Her horns glowed silver, and she waved her hand. A portal appeared beside her, and she stuck her head through. A group of nobles, the ones who hadn’t set off back to their respective territories from Frederick III’s castle, were sitting around a table, eating and drinking. They froze upon seeing Tafel’s head. One of them choked on his beer and whimpered. Tafel cleared her throat. “Which one of you can help me find Henry Tudor? I’m in England. Whoever helps gets a promotion.”