"So, the guidon bearer at the front of the formation holds a flag signifying the highest rank present?" Walter asked.

"Yes, that's correct," Elin said, "Bylaw demands lower-ranking individuals move off the road and make space for higher ranks. Civilians move aside for noblemen, noblemen for royalty."

"And royalty for heroes," Prince Peterby said, "Though, strictly speaking, you must carry a guidon to claim your rights to the path. The lead wagoneer displays my guidon until we leave Letun's controlled landmarks. Otherwise, the roads would be impassible from congestion."

"I don't want to make anyone stand in the mud," Walter said.

"The law is not purely self-serving," Prince Peterby said, "It's intended to get the most important person where they are needed with the least delay. It would be regrettable to fail a duty because wagons were in the way. If you obtain wagons, then I suggest you fly a flag, unless, naturally, you wish to bide your time."

The wagon rocked when the road transitioned from cobblestone to gravel, and, not long after, the stones gave out to dirt. Unlike the Wagoneer's robust transportation, spring suspension smoothed out Prince Peterby's wagon.

Elin wanted a wagon.

Off-and-on conversation, between the prince and her lover, floated in the spacious carriage. Walter asked questions about land management, and Prince Peterby filled in the gaps. The prince admitted that their stewardship failed to meet the minimum requirements for charter retention.

"However, in consideration of Letun's crop increases, my sister decided to waive the standard. It seemed fitting to reward you."

"Crop increases?"

"Your monstraculture contribution, among other things, is responsible for a twelve percent increase in yields, and you've stopped a lot of starvation. Artisans have been enjoying a market surplus of hard-to-obtain materials, so Letun experienced a small economic boom. They've been exporting to the capital. Did you not realize your impact?"

"No, I mean, I realized it was helpful but not by that much. You can thank Elin, mostly, she's the hunter." Walter waited for Prince Peterby to bow his thanks to Elin before continuing. "We also wanted to farm, but we didn't have time to find a farmer. I'm told there's a process for selection?"

"I see." The prince studied Walter.

Despite being the daughter of a fallen house, Elin didn't know farmers were nominated by other lords. She was too young to remember. Prince Peterby promised to set up interviews.

"It's odd to me you do not have a house steward," Prince Peterby said.

"A what?" Walter said.

"A trusted official to manage your land in your absence."

"I can do that? I assumed I had to do it all because the law says I'm responsible for stewarding the land." Walter slapped his forehead. "All this time, I thought I have to do it myself!"

For the first time since they started their talk, Prince Peterby cracked a smile. "If us lords could not delegate, perhaps we'd accomplish nothing."

Prince Peterby's smile faded when knocking on a nearby window interrupted him.

A cavalryman trotted next to the carriage. "Your excellency, the oracle--"

"Laura," Prince Peterby corrected.

"Yes, sir. The little girl Laira insisted she ride with Lord Walter and Lady Elin. She's very adamant, and the nun, excuse me, Sister Lora, is at wit's end."

"Walter's magic is the strongest!"

"Which one should we pop next?"

"That one! Get him right in the skull!"

Walter pointed his hand like a gun and dropped his thumb. After a blue flash, the skeleton's head exploded into dry white fragments and dust. Laira clapped.

"Again! Again!"

"You want to try one?" Walter asked.

"Huh? I can't cast Magic Missile, silly."

"No, you can't, but I'll let you control the orb. Hold your hand out like mine."

Elin didn't expect to encounter monsters during the trip. Walter's and her combined power should break the morale of nearby monsters and drive them away. Prince Peterby's convoy, half-a-dozen wagons, however, moved with a singular purpose and didn't stroll as much as Prince Wilhelm's. They covered territory faster, and therefore they caught up to them. The less intelligent monsters attacked. The allure of the numerous entourage outweighed their fear of Walter and Elin.

So, Walter climbed on top of the prince's wagon and sniped. Elin and Laira joined him. He, quite literally, turned an attack of undead into child's play. Laira's laughter accompanied every crack and rattle of collapsing bones. Bored with attacking the monsters, the little girl plucked the orb from the air and tapped it with her fingers. It released a faint chime at every tap.

Elin noticed the grim faces of the cavalrymen riding next to the wagon.

"You can do such a thing?" Prince Peterby asked, "It doesn't hurt her?"

"When I create them, I upload a program: what to attack and how. These orbs only target undead."

"Program?"

"Sorry. Instructions. I give them instructions on creation. This prevents friendly-fire situations."

"This is the secret to your ability to repeatedly use your spell?"

"Well, that," Walter joked, "and a lake's worth of mana. You know, if--" Walter abruptly stopped talking down to the prince at the carriage window.

"Is something the matter?"

Elin said, "Nothing is the matter, your excellency. Walter is simply lost in thought. Once he reaches such a mental state, one must pull his teeth to receive a response. Shall I take over the defense, beloved?"

Walter grunted an affirmative while he scratched the corners of his mouth. Laira stopped playing, fell silent, and leaned on his knee. She often copied him.

The cavalry guarding the convoy, at Elin's direction, stayed close to the wagons. A tightly-formed group would attract less attention because they would remain under Elin's presence.

She borrowed a warhorse, and the rider warned her he was a temperamental one.

"I would hope our kingdom's warhorses were strong in character," Elin said while she mounted.

The warhorse contradicted the previous rider by standing still and tall and waited for Elin's tug on the reins before moving.

"Well, I'll be," the cavalryman said, "I can barely get him to like me."

"His name?"

"Horse's name is Jupiter."

"Well, Jupiter," Elin patted his mane, "Shall we?"

Jupiter lurched forward with enough ferocity to dislodge rocks from the dried mud. Elin circled him around the convoy, to get everyone's attention, to promise, by sight, her oncoming protection. Then she broke off. Her first act as Jupiter's new rider trampled several stray undead. The muscular horse scattered their bones.

It wasn't long before Elin slew more monsters than Walter, who, at the time, didn't act with total seriousness. He disliked spending too much mana at once since it recovered slowly.

If she could, then she would have exchanged powers with Walter. The world demanded solutions and salvation from the intelligent, but they also distrusted them. The average person could not hope to predict Walter and, therefore, could not relax near him. They desired the comfort of predictable strength. Until Prince Peterby witnessed, with his own two eyes, Walter cared wholly for technical pursuits and none for politics, he didn't trust Walter, either. They existed on a similar level of concentration; it was fortunate they met. Walter asked more questions, which Elin couldn't answer, regarding the task she wanted to see him succeed in. The cavalry's faces gradually shifted from grim to encouraged. She felt it unfair, they judged him as dangerous, but she understood why.

Elin wanted to be the bridge between Walter and the others.

Walter waved her over. "You're in good form."

"Thank you, beloved."

"Can you get Rabecca for me? I'm going to have her cast a spell."