The Price of Preparedness and Perceptions of Beauty

Of course, it wasn’t cheap.

Wawalde even paid an extra ten copper coins, spending a gold coin in total, to purchase a half-helmet.

This helmet was two tiers inferior to the one Sovenia had found in the Demon King’s hall. It only covered the upper part of Wawalde’s skull, leaving the back of his head unprotected.

Despite her disdain, Sovenia meticulously acquired her own set of equipment.

A longbow cost 36 copper coins, three dozen arrows 45 copper coins, and two quivers 16 copper coins.

She had initially intended to save two gold coins for that white dress, but she feared succumbing to the corrupting influence of the elven female form.

‘I can’t rely solely on the ‘Veil of Desire’ and cards for everything,’ she thought. ‘I need to buy some defensive armor.’

Thus, she spent another 60 copper coins on leather breastplate armor, and 20 copper coins on two bags of caltrops, each weighing one kilogram.

In contrast, food seemed considerably cheaper.

Wawalde was hungry. Together, they ate at a tavern in the small town, where Sovenia curiously noted the absence of dedicated restaurants.

Wawalde ordered two meat pies, using the two catties of veal he had purchased for the establishment to prepare them.

Still hungry after finishing, he bought another hot meal.

The total came to only eight copper coins.

Sovenia, however, bought a hot meal for just one copper coin and found herself completely satisfied.

Considering the ‘stupid dog’s’ appetite, and drawing from her military experience, she decided to feed war hounds as much as they could possibly eat.

She spent a full 53 copper coins, purchasing a vast quantity of food.

She acquired fourteen one-jin rye loaves, twenty-eight oatcakes, seven catties of smoked meat, four catties of cheese, and six dried fish.

Thoughtfully, she also bought four catties of apples, along with some salt and butter.

Her large black leather backpack was nearly bursting. She weighed it in her hands, realizing it was approaching her maximum carrying capacity for a long journey.

When Wawalde, waiting at the market entrance, saw Sovenia appear, he was almost startled.

“Sovenia, you bought so many things?”

Sovenia, carrying the black leather backpack, wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.

“So many?”

“To keep you fed.”

“But isn’t this a bit too much?”

“For a small army of two, logistics are paramount,” Sovenia stated.

“I still have seven silver coins left,” Sovenia added.

“That’s seventy copper coins.”

“Let me carry it,” Wawalde offered.

“No, I can manage myself.”

“You’re already carrying the pot, your strange iron hammer, and now all that food,” Wawalde pointed out.

Sovenia replied, “But this is within my capabilities. My designated role is precisely this: logistics, auxiliary combat, and keeping the dog well-tethered.”

“Excellent, Miss Sovenia. You already possess the makings of an adventure party leader. I’d like to ask you, what are your thoughts?”

‘Of course, you’ll be the meat shield, holding the front line until my cards are activated, then I’ll move in for the kill.’

Naturally, she couldn’t say that aloud.

Sovenia said, “I’ve noticed our team lacks ranged firepower to harass the enemy.”

“Elves are skilled archers; that’s an excellent idea.”

‘Moreover, with my bow and arrow, I can achieve continuous kills under Wawalde’s guidance. As for you, simply charge forward and engage the enemy while I provide support.’

‘Excellent,’ Sovenia thought.

As the two walked side by side, Wawalde asked, “You went shopping; you didn’t run into any trouble, did you?”

“I did encounter some strange things, however.”

“What kind of things?”

“Firstly,” she recounted, “an old man selling bread insisted on giving me two extra rye loaves, saying that a young lady like me was too thin.”

Wawalde offered a gentle smile. “The old man has a kind heart.”

“Then,” she continued, “when I went to buy smoked meat, the stall owner insisted on picking out the cut himself, claiming this piece with its perfect lean-to-fat ratio was most suitable for a lady like me.”

“I told him I could choose my own, but he replied, ‘Your hands are so fair and delicate; don’t get them greasy.'”

He wasn’t wrong; an elf’s hands truly were—

‘I’m here to buy meat, not for a hand spa,’ Sovenia mused internally.

Sovenia’s tone remained flat, yet the tips of her pointed ears quivered slightly.

She recalled the stall owner’s gaze, which had been quite unsettling.

“And there’s something even stranger.”

“What is it?”

“As I walked along with this bag, men kept approaching me with smiles, offering to help carry it.”

Wawalde’s brow furrowed slightly. “Did they lay a hand on you?”

“No, I said I didn’t need help, and they left.”

Wawalde nodded. “People are always more attentive to ladies, especially to someone like Miss Sovenia.”

‘Is it because this body is too beautiful?’ Sovenia wondered.

Sovenia continued, “Then, three men blocked my path, smiling and asking if an elf lady walking alone wasn’t lonely, and if ‘big brothers’ should accompany me. I asked where, and they pointed to an alley, then surrounded me.”

Wawalde interjected, “You killed them.”

“I agreed to go with them.”

“What?”

“No, I wanted to see what they would do with me in the alley, and then make them ‘donate’ to a righteous cause—you know, that ‘private dispute’ thing you mentioned earlier.”

Wawalde asked, “And then what happened?”

Sovenia explained:

“We had only taken a few steps when someone jumped out and accused them of being hooligans. Immediately, a crowd gathered, asking me what happened. I didn’t know what to say, but they claimed the men had said they wanted to take me into the alley to ‘have some fun.'”

“So, they beat up those three men. Many people then took the opportunity to ask me where I lived, if I was single, and so on…”

“So, what exactly happened? I’m not a succubus, and I didn’t charm them, so why were my plans ruined?”

“Because you are a beautiful lady, and they are scoundrels who harassed you,” Wawalde said, his tone implying, “Isn’t this obvious?”

“In the human world, those who bully beautiful ladies receive no sympathy whatsoever.”

“Is that so?” Sovenia nodded. “If I were to grab a man right now and claim he harassed me, touched my backside, what would happen?”

“That would be ill-advised.”

“However,”

“Well, given Miss Sovenia’s beauty, that innocent fellow would likely be ganged up on.”

“So, beauty holds such an advantage in the human world!” Sovenia exclaimed. “No wonder the Succubus Heavenly King enjoys visiting the human realm so much.”

“She constantly complains to the rest of us gods, saying there’s ‘no chivalry, unlike the Holy Roro Empire’s knights!'”

Before they knew it,

The sun had begun its descent in the west.

Sovenia looked up at the sky, watching the light shift from golden to orange-red.

Long shadows stretched across the streets.

“Let’s depart immediately,” she said. “We should cover some ground before nightfall.”

Wawalde, however, remained still.

“Wait,” he said. “There’s no need to walk.”

Sovenia’s pointed ears twitched slightly.

‘Walk?’ she thought.

Before she could ask, Wawalde had already turned and headed in another direction.

She followed him, traversing two streets until they arrived at a familiar building.

It was the inn where Sir Gernon had once resided.

He walked straight in, pushed open the stable doors, and handed a few copper coins to the stable boy.

Calling out the names of two horses, the stable boy promptly led two magnificent steeds forward.

Sovenia’s gaze fell upon the two horses.

They were white.

Their snow-white coats almost glowed in the dim stable. Their manes cascaded like silk, utterly devoid of any stray colors.

The horses’ bodies were sleek, their muscles well-defined, and their limbs long and powerful.

Her eyes then moved to the saddles.

The saddles were crafted from fine leather, edged with silver embellishments, and stitched with meticulous, even seams.

The reins were forged from polished steel, reflecting blurry images.

This entire set of tack undoubtedly cost more than Wawalde’s shabby equipment combined.

Sovenia approached one of the horses, extending her hand, her fingertips brushing against its neck.

Beneath the warm skin, something flowed. She sensed divine grace.

These two horses had been blessed with divine grace.

She had seen similar mounts on battlefields before; they were exclusive to human paladins.

Ordinary horses could not withstand the infusion of divine grace; only pure-blooded, robust steeds could serve as vessels for such blessings.

Upon seeing these horses, Sovenia finally felt a flicker of the ‘stupid dog beside me was once a hero’ sentiment.

She asked, “Your horses?”

Wawalde’s voice was somewhat low. “Yes, and my comrade who will never return.”

He walked to the other horse, placing his palm on its neck, stroking it gently.

“Its name is Morning Star,” he said, “but it will never await its master again.”

Sovenia remained silent.

She simply watched Wawalde’s back, observing him in his shabby gear, standing beside horses worth hundreds of gold.

The scene was somewhat comical.

A man dressed like a common grunt, leading a horse that could buy an entire village.

Sovenia mused, ‘If bandits were to appear, they would likely steal the horses first, then perhaps, out of pity, toss a few copper coins to Wawalde.’

Wawalde turned, taking up the reins. “Let’s go.”

“Can you ride a horse?”

“Yes.”

****

They left the city, journeying until nightfall, then rested.

After dawn, they resumed their travels.

The magnificent horses were swift, and they did not lose their way en route.

By the evening of the second day, a manor came into view.

A wooden wall enclosed a stretch of land, its planks blackened with age, several sections clearly patched later, creating varying shades.

The wooden stakes atop the wall leaned precariously, some broken and left unattended.

The manor abutted a small stone castle, its tower missing a corner at the top.

Vast tracts of fields lay fallow, weeds growing knee-high.

Only a few plots closest to the wooden wall showed signs of cultivation.

An old farmer straightened his back, looking up at them.

His gaze was vacant, like one observing two moving stones. Only when his eyes settled on Sovenia’s face did a flicker of something more appear.

Before Sovenia could ponder this, the sound of hooves echoed from within the manor.

A bay-colored horse galloped out from the wooden gate, carrying a young woman on its back.

She wore a dark blue riding habit, the fabric appearing fine, though its cuffs were frayed and whitened, and a tiny thread dangled from the collar’s edge.

Her golden hair was tied into a bun, secured with a silver hairpin, which was missing a gem from its head.

Her features were delicate, and her face was beautiful, but her expression upon seeing them was far from pleasant.

She reined in her horse, her gaze sweeping over Wawalde and Sovenia, then to the white horses beneath them.

Disappointment crept onto her face. “Who are you?”

Wawalde remained silent, looking at Sovenia as if he were a mentor, ready to teach if she didn’t grasp it immediately.

Sovenia pulled out the parchment and unrolled it.

“Adventurers, here for a quest.”

The young woman glanced at the grey donkey insignia on the parchment, then back at Sovenia.

“An elf? I am the heir to this unfortunate castle and manor.”

Her gaze once again scrutinized Sovenia. “With all due respect, your equipment… while it may possess elven magic, your attendant—”

Her eyes shifted to Wawalde, scanning from his half-helmet to his wooden shield, then to his unsheathed broadsword.

“He appears completely incapable of resolving this matter.”

She paused, her gaze falling on the two snow-white steeds.

“And coupled with the horses you’re riding… your horses could equip a hundred of you.”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but her meaning was clear. “I suggest you leave. There’s no need to die for this quest.”

Sovenia parted her lips, still formulating a reply, when another round of hoofbeats sounded.

A middle-aged man rode up, clad in a dark grey coat, a cluster of keys jingling at his waist.

“Who are you two?” he inquired.

“Adventurers,” Sovenia replied, holding up the parchment once more.

The steward’s eyes lit up.

“From the Grey Donkey Guild? Excellent, excellent!”

He quickly dismounted, bowing to them. “My lady… she hasn’t been in the best mood recently, and her words can be a bit sharp. Please, don’t take it to heart.”

“The mistress has always trusted the Grey Donkey Guild. Please, please follow me—”

The young woman scoffed, turned her horse around, and rode into the manor ahead of them.