Chapter 230: The Question

As the journey continued, the wagon men looked at Darion in awe.

They had been traveling for quite some time now, the sun beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, and yet they still couldn’t shake the image of those headless bodies lying in the sand.

The memory clung to them like a shadow, a constant reminder of what had happened.

Finally, one of them worked up the courage to speak.

"I’m guessing you are the one that made the men headless," he said, his voice hesitant. "But how? We were on the ground. We didn’t see anything. There was no sound, no struggle. And then—" He paused, shaking his head. "And then they were just... gone. Their heads, I mean. How is that possible?"

The other wagon men nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of curiosity and fear. They had seen strange things in their travels, but nothing like this. Nothing so sudden, so silent and so brutal.

Taking nine men’s heads off should have taken time. It should have been messy, loud, and chaotic.

The men would have fought back, their swords swinging, their voices shouting.

They would have seen the threat coming and tried to defend themselves. Even if the attackers were outmatched, they would have at least put up a struggle, buying themselves a few precious seconds.

A single head being severed from a body took force, precision, and a moment of vulnerability. Nine heads? That would have taken even longer.

Plus, with them resisting, it should have been a prolonged and bloody affair, the kind that left scars on everyone involved.

So how did it happen in that very, very, very small amount of time?

"How could their heads just disappear?" another wagon man added. "We looked around. We looked everywhere. There was no sign of them. It’s like they were never there at all."

Darion smiled. He had been expecting this question. The wagon men were curious, and they had every right to be. He needed to give them an answer that would satisfy their curiosity without revealing the truth.

Seren, Garren, and the three knights rode silently beside him, their faces carefully neutral.

They were trying their best to be as calm as they could, to not smile or say anything that might give away what had really happened. They just looked forward, as if they were not part of the conversation.

Darion glanced at them briefly, then turned his attention back to the wagon men. "I have an ability," he said, his voice calm. "It’s not something I talk about often. But it’s useful in situations like that."

The wagon men exchanged glances. "An ability?" one of them repeated. "What kind of ability?"

Darion shrugged. "The kind that lets me protect myself and the people around me."

The Yuimons had done a good job. They had used their sheer power to fling the heads of the men so far away that they weren’t remotely around again.

The heads had landed somewhere in the desert, buried beneath the sand, never to be found. It was a clean, silent, and effective solution.

"That must have been a spell you casted," one of the wagon men said slowly. "Many nobles have magical abilities, so I’m not surprised you have one."

Yeah, that was true. Most nobles had magical abilities.

That was the reason for the nobles’ awakening ceremony hosted in Darion’s father’s house, the Emperor’s palace.

Nobles from across the kingdom would gather to discover their abilities, to see what kind of power they had been granted.

It was a common thing, not a surprise for these men. Darion’s plan had worked, they didn’t think he was a Necromancer. They thought he was just another noble with a mysterious ability they didn’t understand.

Darion nodded. "I’m glad I could save everyone’s life."

The wagon men smiled, their fear slowly fading. "We owe you our lives," one of them said. "If you hadn’t done... whatever you did... we would be dead right now."

Darion waved a hand. "It’s nothing. Just doing what needed to be done."

The journey was mostly peaceful as they headed back.

The desert gave way to grasslands, and the grasslands gave way to familiar terrain.

The sun continued its slow descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The animals were calm, their earlier panic forgotten.

The wagon men talked among themselves, their voices low, their laughter occasionally drifting back to Darion.

Everything was smooth and good. The wheels of the wagons turned steadily, their creaking a familiar rhythm.

The animals walked patiently, their hooves beating a soft rhythm against the ground. The air was warm, carrying the scent of dust and earth.

They passed through a small village, its buildings dark against the evening sky. A few people were still out, moving about their business, but most had retreated to their homes. They watched the caravan pass, their eyes curious, their faces unreadable.

Darion looked at them, his mind wandering. He thought about Percvale, about the farmlands and the pens. He thought about the livestock they were bringing back, about how much they would change the barony.

It was a good feeling, knowing that he was building something, that he was making a difference.

He looked at Seren, who was riding beside him. She was tired, her face drawn, her eyes half-closed.

"It’s been a long journey," she said.

Darion nodded. "But we’re almost home."

The caravan continued moving, the animals walking steadily, the wagon men talking quietly.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ground. The road stretched out before them, winding through the hills, leading back to Percvale.

Then they were at Percvale. The familiar walls appeared on the horizon, their outlines dark against the evening sky.

The place was quiet, the streets empty.

Darion smiled. He had made it. They had made it.

He urged his horse forward, leading the caravan through the gates and into the town. The ’guard’ knights nodded as he passed, their faces respectful.

"Welcome back, m’lord," one of them said.

Darion nodded. "Thank you."

The caravan moved through the streets, the animals walking slowly, their hooves echoing against the cobblestones.

The place was quiet, the only sounds the creaking of the wagons and the lowing of the cattle.

Darion looked ahead, his eyes fixed on the castle. They were home.