Flowers on the Path

Chapter II

For days now, Dalia had been riding alongside Mariella's carriage, accompanying the princess on their journey to Traturia. The road stretched long and tiresome, with landscapes that, while beautiful, soon blurred into repetition. Though they kept a steady pace, frequent stops were necessary to rest the horses and give the travelers a brief reprieve.

The journey was made no easier by Mariella's restlessness and seasickness. Her pale face and the dark circles beneath her eyes bore silent witness to her discomfort. Inside the carriage was Lucia, a young maid with delicate features and a shy demeanor. Like Mariella, Lucia had also been sent away from the kingdom—her presence marked an indefinite exile. For days, she buried herself in books, losing herself in tales of distant lands and legends. Dalia suspected that Lucia used the stories as a shield, avoiding the princess's gaze and her mercurial moods that bred unease. Mariella was known for being temperamental and demanding, and her shifting tempers had already unsettled the young maid.

During one of their stops, Dalia had tried to engage Lucia in conversation, but the girl's wary glances made it clear she was still learning whom to trust. Though young, streaks of gray already wove through Lucia's mousy hair.

Dalia found solace in the passing scenery—fields and woods that promised fleeting moments of peace. Riding next to her was Torus, one of the mounted guards. He was practically a boy, likely her age or just a touch older. His hay-colored hair stuck out from beneath his helmet, and his cheeks were perpetually flushed. Every time he spoke, his amber eyes gleamed with enthusiasm.

"Aren't you worried you'll feel out of place in Renil?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. Dalia wasn't sure what he was driving at. He too was bored by the long journey, eager for any distraction, even if it led nowhere.

Dalia glanced at him sideways, debating if she should humor him.

"As an acolyte?" she finally replied. "Traturia is a secular country. They don't worship any gods, so I suppose I might feel out of place," she finished with a note of uncertainty. She wasn't sure where this conversation was headed, but she decided to give him a chance.

"That's why they're so eager for an alliance," Torus said, lifting a finger as if making a grand point. "They want to claim our gods for themselves."

Dalia exhaled a quiet sigh.
"I think they're more interested in our access to the sea," she countered. "It would open up new trade routes for them."

Torus's eyes drifted as if he hadn't quite heard her.
"I think you should teach them the ways of Astra, become their guide," he said, this time with an exaggerated confidence that made his eyes twinkle.

"I doubt Astra is looking for new followers," Dalia said, stifling a yawn. "She has me, after all."

"Never say never," Torus replied, rolling his eyes dramatically before falling silent. He looked as if he was already plotting his next line of questioning. After a pause, he leaned forward with genuine curiosity. "Do you sleep with that mask on?"

Though Dalia had grown used to questions about her order—small and obscure even in Eldania—they still managed to irritate her. The mask was a symbol of her belonging, carrying meaning she did not wish to explain.

"No," she answered curtly. "Do you sleep in your helmet?"

Torus laughed but quickly realized that Dalia wasn't in the mood for jokes. Even her horse seemed weary of the conversation. Perhaps it was time for another break. Torus seemed to make a mental note, likely planning his next round of questions.

A familiar voice rumbled from behind them, deep and seasoned. Marius, one of the older soldiers in their retinue, drew closer on his gray stallion. He had the bearing of a man who had seen a lifetime of service, with salt-and-pepper hair and a thick mustache. Though Dalia doubted he'd been in any major battles, his demeanor commanded respect.