A couple weeks had passed since leaving Carvolier, but the teen had already sent a few letters back to Milora. She was still part of their group, after all, and they knew she would send letters back, even though they wouldn't receive them until they reached their assigned camp near the Tarkon border.
The sky was bleaker than usual. Grey and angry dark clouds loomed ahead, and scouts had already been sent to look for shelter or a village willing to house them till the storm passed. That had been an hour ago.
Blaine joined them outside the carriage after Georgivus kicked him out with another tantrum, screaming about how he wanted more space to sleep. Aitor offered his horse to Blaine, at least, while he settled on Gossemar's back at the edges of the group. The poor man looked exhausted.
"I like to think this is how Honoria would've ended up if it weren't for being 'honorable,'" Nagan commented offhandedly after things had calmed down.
Carthadeus gave him a withering glare. "Excuse me?"
"You really can't deny it, you literally tried to attack me with a spell when you realized I beat your record." Nagan paused. "Except you actually had a bite to your bark."
"Are you trying to compliment me or insult me?"
"Both," Nagan and Az replied simultaneously.
Blaine laughed softly at their bickering. "Well, I suppose I could add some insight to Georgivus' behavior. He just hasn't adjusted yet."
"I d-don't th-th-think that-that's much o-of an—an excus-se. N-n-no offense."
"None taken, because I'll gladly agree with you." Blaine sighed, keeping his voice low so he couldn't be heard from inside the carriage. "My mother always scolds me on if I'm going to have this job, I should teach the royalty properly, but I'm too afraid I'll lose my job if I ever scolded Georgivus. My job is...the only thing keeping food on the table, to be frank." He glanced at the teens around him who casted curious glances. "I'm not sure how it is in mage communities, but I grew up where the expectation was that the women stay home to take care of the children while the men work—which I think is ludicrous. So after my father died, that left my mother and six children with nothing. Luckily, I was already far enough in my studies that I wasn't dropped due to a lack of tuition, and I was able to find work quite easily within the palace."
"Does your mother not have any skills?" Carthadeus asked, and Nagan almost slapped his forehead at the lack of tact and poor wording.
"He means employable skills," Az was quick to remedy.
Blaine laughed lightly. "I understood what he meant the first time, but thank you for the clarification. But the answer is no. She was pulled out of school once she learned to read and write in order to help with the household and younger children. It's a shame, though; she's the cleverest person I've ever met and would've made quite the politician if her opinions on government would ever be listened to."
"That...doesn't seem fair." Carthadeus' brow was furrowed and his lips pressed in a thin line.
"Nothing is fair, but it's less prominent in high mage society, I've noticed," Nagan added with no bite.
"Oh! I almost forgot you didn't grow up with mages!" Gath suddenly exclaimed. "You're not even from Tarkon."
"Nor could he read Tarkovish when he first arrived," Az commented under his breath.
"Stop spreading lies, Az, I could read Tarkovish but I wasn't very good at it. You still can't read Rakshu well, either."
Az raised his hands in surrender with a grin. "Touché."
Blaine chuckled along with their antics. "But anyway, I'll agree that Georgivus is...He's very spoiled as most royalty are, but he also misses his governess very dearly. She wasn't able to come with us—for reasons I'm not even sure of—and the king, may he live forever, decided that I would be good enough to take care of the prince. He's very close to his governess, you see. She may as well be his mother considering she raised him." He glanced back at the carriage sympathetically. "He probably sent me out so I wouldn't see him cry."
Thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm grew closer, but luckily for them, one of the scouts that were sent made their way back to the carriage.
"A village is willing to take us in for the night. We will be heading East."
"Thank you," Carthadeus said after a moment when no one else spoke up.
"How is this supposed to work, anyway?" Gath asked when the scout moved on.
Aitor shrugged. "W-we'll see."
The village was smaller than they were expecting, maybe with a population of barely a hundred. It was set far inland; rural and dedicated to agriculture. The residents were friendly, however, but Nagan and Aitor didn't miss the few lingering stares that came from some.
"Think they think we're the enemy?" Nagan mused to Aitor, causing the other to snort. They did look to be from the south, with Nagan's bronze skin and Aitor's dark complexion, and that was where the war had started.
The battalion had to be split between houses, obviously, as not everyone could fit in the same place. The teens were stuck together, though, and were temporarily relieved of their duties as the prince and Blaine were set to stay in the mayor's home.
"Ah, you're just boys," their hostess tutted. An older woman and her husband. "And so thin! What have these soldiers been feeding you?"
"Not enough, apparently," Gath joked, earning a chuckle from the husband and a jab to the side from Carthadeus.
"Then I guess we'll have to make a good, hardy stew, won't we." She motioned to the teens. "Who here knows how to chop some vegetables and slice some meat?"
It was a good break for the teens as they set about helping the hostess make their dinner, and they even learned how to properly carve a large portion of beef from the husband. Nagan, Aitor, and Gath certainly had a laugh at Carthadeus' and Az's inexperienced hands, teasing them about the downsides of being the rich boys. Nothing was taken to heart, though, and they even got Carthadeus to crack a smile before he shoved Nagan for a particular comment. With war looming over the horizon and them heading straight to the heart of it, at that moment it was as if none of it existed at all.
"For being renowned for your swordwork, you don't know how to cut straight, do you," Az jabbed at Nagan, picking out a crooked piece of carrot of his stew before eating it.
"Says the one who nearly sliced off his finger," Nagan said indignantly.
"Neither of you two acts like you've held a knife before," Gath said.
Aitor motioned to the three young masters in the room. "R-r-r-rich boy—s."
"What? Why am I lumped in with those two?"
"Because you're an Elvar." Gath swallowed a mouthful of stew. "Well, kind of. Hey, what are you gonna do about that, anyway?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, everyone still treats you like you're part of a high mage family—well, not counting that the Arclovens practically adopted you—but you're still technically part of the disowned branch and obviously aren't getting any inheritance."
"I suppose you could simply start your own branch, either with the Elvar name or your mother's maiden name," Carthadeus, surprisingly, added. "Not all high mage families are wealthy, per se. What really matters is how much power they have within the community, and Nagan has a surprising amount of power already due to connections."
Without quite knowing how to respond to the offhanded compliment, Nagan chucked and said dismissively, "Careful, Honoria, I might just start thinking you're jealous of me."
Carthadeus shrugged. "Who isn't?"
Az's spoon clattered into his bowl as he fumbled at Carthadeus' words. This action went unnoticed by most, however, as the hostess hushed them.
"Now, now, finish your dinner first before it gets cold. You'll have plenty of time to talk about your futures afterwards."
Another quiet laugh flitted around the group as all focused back on their stew, but Carthadeus subtly raised his eyebrow at Az while the other kept his eyes glued to his bowl.