The small family regarded Ophelia with white faces, as she walked back around the side of their cart to face them.
The father of the family had pulled hard on the ropes in his hands in order to stop the beasts of burden that were pulling his cart. If Ophelia hadn't held onto the cart, it would have overtaken the oxen attached to it.
She wasn't wearing her golden breastplate nor her thick black leather armor, but after she had stopped the whole cart by herself, she didn't need it to appear intimidating to the family.
"…Miss…Milady… Um, how may I b-be of service to you?" The father stuttered out, trying to appear as subservient as possible. Ophelia blew some air out of her nose and then nodded as if satisfied with his reaction.
"I appreciate how you address me, peasant. You seem to know your place." Ophelia said, and Mathew would have rolled his eyes if he had any.
The man nodded his head several times quickly, his hands gripping the reins tightly. "Of course, milady. And I am w-willing to help with whatever it is you need."
"Excellent. I expect no less. Tell me, where are you and your family here traveling from?"
"From? Well, Milady, we are traveling from Arlem… I assumed you already knew…" He trailed off and cringed away under Ophelia's scrutiny
"It is not wise to assume what I do or do not know. Merely answer my questions."
"O-of course, milady. What else did you wish to know?"
"How far is this town called 'Arlem'?"
"About two weeks, Milady." Ophelia nodded.
"You will be on the road for a while, then?"
"Yes Milady… Why do you wish to know?" His wife tried to hush him as he said this, her face white, her hands shaky. Ophelia gave her a thin-lipped smile of reassurance, though it was anything but soothing.
"My companion and I here are short on provisions. We were hoping you might spare enough for the journey to Arlem." The farmer wiped sweaty palms on his trousers
"W-we don't have much for ourselves, Milady… Only enough to get us to the next town…" His wife gripped his sleeve tightly, and she muttered something hurriedly into his ear. Mathew couldn't make out the words, but it was probably something like 'Don't make the scary lady angry'.
The husband did not dare break eye contact with Ophelia. She made a gesture at Argus, and he took a deep breath before going to stand beside her.
A silvery axe appeared in his hand, which he rested on his shoulder.
The husband flinched backward, and the wife reached for her children protectively. One of the kids began to cry.
Mathew felt a pain in his chest, and his breath caught as he watched the scene in slow motion.
Ophelia spoke to the family before her, her tone low but loud enough to be heard over the child's hysterics: "I suggest that you all get used to eating smaller portions."
…..
The next two weeks of travel were excruciating. There was not a morning Mathew didn't wake up, or a night he didn't lie down, in which he wasn't cursing either himself or his captors.
How could they have done that? They had robbed a family: an innocent family with children.
No. He knew the kind of people his captors were. They had killed every single one of Mathias's followers just to get their hands on a powerful Blessing. Regardless of their justification, they were ruthless in their pursuits.
It was his fault then. He knew who they were but had forgotten.
Why hadn't he stopped them?
Even if he had tried, Ophelia could have just used her power over him to tell him to not move or speak. It was pointless.
But that was just an excuse… Mathew hadn't even tried to stop them; he hadn't even voiced an opinion or taken a single step forward. If anything, the crime was on his shoulders.
The morning before they arrived in Arlem, Mathew made himself a promise:
Next time, he wouldn't just stand there doing nothing. Next time, he would try.
Arlem was a relatively small town, and with the proper vantage point, one could easily count the number of buildings within it.
It was surprisingly lively, though, with people trading goods in the streets, and children running amok, playing pranks on each other and adults alike.
As Mathew and his companions made their way down a street, a young girl with short hair wearing a bandanna bumped into Mathew and ended up on her butt. She looked up at Mathew's face and shrieked, throwing her small hands before her face.
Ophelia stepped forward and put one knee on the ground, speaking to the girl softly.
"Do not be frightened. He is not as scary as he looks." The girl calmed slightly, and Mathew felt almost betrayed. Where did this woman get off being so kind to this girl? It was disgusting hypocrisy.
Ophelia continued: "Do you know where we might find something to eat?" The girl nodded and mumbled some directions to a saloon in town. And Ophelia thanked the girl before leading her companions that direction.
Mathew released a short puff of air and shook his head.
When the three entered Arlem's saloon, Mathew's appearance caused a bit of a stir. There was a collage of reactions, some were curious, some were frightened, and others were too drunk to care.
The startled barkeep beheld the three strangers who sat at a table near the counter. He motioned for a barmaid to attend them, and she took a few deep breaths before hiding her anxiety behind a smile.
"Excuse me, what can I do you for?" She asked.
"First," Argus said with a grandfatherly smile on his face, "Is there a place we could purchase provisions? We are quite low on resources."
"Well…" The barmaid said slowly, "In Arlem, most things are traded for, not bought. The whole town more or less stays afloat through trade."
"We do not have much to trade, but we are quite capable. Is there anyone who would lend us provisions for some labor?" Ophelia snorted, but Argus maintained his smile.
"Well… There is the Arlem outpost, where they have plenty of job postings. They usually let people decide if they want to be rewarded in money or in goods."
Argus stroked his chin.
"One last thing… Would you mind telling me about that gentleman in the corner? Ever since we entered this place, he has been observing us." The maid's eyes flicked over to the corner of the saloon for a second before flicking back.
Mathew couldn't help but follow her gaze with a look over his shoulder.
The man in question sat in a relaxed posture, one leg resting on an empty chair. He was dressed in thick padded cloth armor, with metal covering his shoulders and arms. On his head was a triangular hat, similar to a pirate's hat.
Other than that, Mathew spotted no weapons. The man, however, spotted Mathew looking at him. He smiled, took a swig of his drink, and then left the saloon.
Mathew ignored Ophelia's glare as he returned his attention to the Barmaid, just in time to hear her answer Argus:
"That man… is a bounty hunter"