Cloak and Scalpel

A Jar of Jam

After a hearty breakfast the following morning, Gusion, Aamon and I left the inn. There were several towns in the duchy of the Paxley family, all within a day's ride of each other. Castle Aberleen, the castle town of the Paxleys, was a good three-day ride from our current location.

"I don't get why we have to stop by every town or village on our way," Gusion grumbled as we left the most recent town where we had lunch. He was still Camouflaged atop his horse.

The people at the restaurant had been both gracious and awed as the Duke Paxley strode in through the door. Their jaws had hung open when Aamon had requested a table for him and his 'beloved' fiancée.

I glanced at Gusion's Camouflaged outline. "The point," Aamon said, not bothering to look towards his brother. "Is to make this engagement believable before we arrive at Aberleen."

Gusion scoffed. "I knew that," he said, rolling his eyes. "Why don't you two just kiss in front of everyone? That'll make it more believable if you ask me."

I blushed. "I hope you fall off Comet," I said acidly, as Aamon ignored him. The hood of his cloak was drawn up over his head, so I couldn't see his face clearly. But I suppose he was annoyed. Gusion, I found during this trip, could be childish.

"By the way," I said as I rode up towards Aamon. "I have another concern."

"You seem to have a great deal of those," Aamon said as he glanced sideways at me.

"I'm just...particular," I said, waving a hand airily.

"Is it about your magic?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "As your fake fiancée, living in your castle, aren't there normally...expectations?"

"Expectations?" he asked.

Note to self: maybe isekai manga aren't that accurate. "I'm not sure," I said, tilting my head. "Something along the lines of...dancing, embroidery, knowing every member of every noble household, familial tradition, et cetera?"

"I'll arrange a tutor for you when we get there," he said, looking back ahead.

"Thank you," I said. "Though, small disclaimer. I'm a very bad dancer. The skills of my feet are indirectly proportional to the skills of my hands."

"Aamon's an excellent dancer," Gusion piped up.

"Gusion." Aamon's voice was filled with warning.

I remembered how, in-game, Aamon often danced around enemy heroes as he killed them off one by one with a mix of a powerful burst and powerful basic attacks. "I have no doubt of that," I said cheerfully.

Above us, the clouds slowly darkened, threatening rain. "There is a village up ahead," Aamon said. "This will be our last stop before Aberleen."

"Finally," Gusion drawled. "Don't forget to kiss and convince everyone."

Gusion ducked as one of Aamon's razor sharp shards flew towards him.

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It began pouring in earnest by the time we reached the village. Leaning across his horse towards me, Aamon unfastened his cloak and draped it unceremoniously over my head. "Take it back," I said, trying to tug it off me. "I have a cloak, I'm fine. You'll get soaked."

"I don't have a cloak big brother," Gusion said, pretending to simper. I glared at him from over my shoulder.

Aamon glanced around us as the rain poured. People would have normally come out of their houses to greet the duke, but it seemed as if the rain had hid the signs of our arrival.