Mavic walked over, picking the brace, secondly a brander, off the ground, checking to make sure it hadn't left the mark where it landed.
Mavic was a caretaker, and didn't leave wanton destruction. He only killed those without purpose or place where they were.
Besides, this reality still had plenty of centuries left before the Celestial Timeline decided its fate.
Mavic put his weapons away. His wand, secondly a dagger, was placed in a side scabbard. The brace was placed in one of several pockets across his chest. The staff was renditioned into the form of a simple walking stick, but was no less deadly, especially in the hands of its current owner.
Hiking, the wanderer made his way to an old dirt road. It was hard to tell through the thick of the trees, but time had passed on his walk and it was now late into the evening. Fog was rising from evaporated dew and last night's puddles, creating a humid mist about the air. Thick to the point of pushing back upon one to walk through it.
Mavic stepped into the road, planted his staff firmly into the dirt between his heels, and waited.
* * *
John liked the simple life. He enjoyed the thump of the buggy on his bum, the company of his horses, and the fresh open country side.
But today was not one of John's most enjoyable days.
The humid fog made even him uncomfortable, it hid the bright wonder of the wilderness, and the nobles he was taxiing were quite mean. Especially to his 'smelly beasts of burden'.
He knew that snooty folk like them just never understood how to appreciate the simple things, but they had smacked his prized horse and best friend Colsty with their canes when he had tried to nuzzle against them. Downright disrespectful they were.
But oh no, should John dare raise a finger he'd be fucked six ways from Sunday. He knew better. After what had happened to his wife.
Deep in thought, John hadn't noticed he was barreling straight for a hooded figure in the middle of the road.
Not that it mattered, the horses stopped dead in their tracks, laying down immediately at the feet of the hitchhiker, whinnying nervously.
This snapped John out of his reminiscing.
"Oi mate! What're you doin' to my horses? I don't want no trouble!"
John tried to get a good look at the man's face, already reciting what he'd undoubtedly have to tell authorities later once the cabin had been ransacked and the nobles taken off for ransom or some other thing.
Or maybe he'd say the nobles were killed. No sense in having 'orrible people such as these looked after or cared for.
The man was simply staring at the horses. Unmoving with his walking stick duh into the kid between his heels. Like some knight standing at attention.
"We got room in the back of you wanted to hitch on, but I'm afraid you can't step foot in the cabin. The nobles might be upse-"
There came a loud banging from the cabin.
"What's taking so long, cabbie? Why have we stopped?"
John sighed. "We just got a wheel stuck in the mud is all m'am. I'll 'ave it fixed up in a jiffy!" he replied politely.
"Well you better make it snappy! This humidity is ruining my curls!"
Then a much quieter voice could be heard.
"Dear... you can always fix them there at the estate..."
"And display how I can't prepare myself! Nonsense Harold! And don't call me 'dear'! I'm a lady! Not some housewife!"
John had stepped down from the driving seat of the buggy. "Sir, may I ask you to please get on with whatever you have planned? I really don't want no trouble. Hell, you're welcome to take mine away from me." he said, nodding towards the bickering voices.
The man took up his walking stick, made his way to cabin door, and knocked politely.
"What does he want no-"
A frightful woman emerged from the doorframe, hard to see due to the excess flowers, make up, drills and flood she had on.
The man grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and yanked her from the cabin.
The gentleman who was assumed to be her husband, poor soul, fumbled with himself to draw his sword, still within the confines of the cabin.
The man stood and watched as the gentleman got himself tangled in luggage and his own garments. The woman shrieked once she discovered the amount of sludge she was now covered in. The man rammed his elbow into her temple without giving her a second look. She face planted into a puddle, silent.
John had expected a robbery, a hitchhiker, perhaps an assassination, but he felt like none of these were happening at the moment. That didn't stop him from enjoying it though.
The gentleman, or Harold as he was called, finally had his saved free and lunged towards the man.
Which was easily sidestepped, causing Harold to tumble out of the cabin and into the muck and his unconscious wife. The man stepped into the cabin and locked the door behind him.
There was a stunned silence as the three humans tried to get there wits about them.
Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling
The bell rang from the coach. The signal for the driver to get a move on.
John tipped his cabbie cap at the boisterous fumbling couple, and climbed back aboard his seat. His horses were already back at attention and starting to move.
John was still unsure what just happened, but he had a sudden appreciation for this new passenger.
* * *
The charismatic spell Mavic had quickly used on the driver would hold well for another day or two, indefinitely if Mavic managed to stay close enough to him. It was an aura thing, affecting the closest conscious being once activated. The nobles would have delayed Mavic's plans, only leading to a long and drawn out ball and gala out of ceremony of the local lords and ladies. The heir would be discussed and how to best replace the minor inconvenience of their kidnapping with a new heir to the throne. So having them roll in the dirt like hermits seemed a suitable way to delay them, but Mavic, able to see not only every living thing's personal timeline, but also how actions would effect it, knew the nearby wolves would have taken care of Mavic's problem before anything else. Now all that was left to fix the timeline was find the heir, save them, manipulate them, then place them neatly back on the throne.
Simple. Easy. And all in a day's work.
