ARTHUR POV
The carriage jolted over a stray stone, sending a rattle through my teeth that reminded me I was definitely not in a luxury SUV. We had cleared the capital's Great Gate about an hour ago, and I had to give it to Elsa—the girl was a natural.
She hadn't just acted like a High Elven noble; she had become a literal "Ice Queen." With one arched eyebrow and a look of such profound disgust that the gate guard probably felt like he owed her an apology for existing, she'd waved us through. I, meanwhile, was huddled in the corner like a Victorian chimney sweep. I'd ruffled my hair into a bird's nest, wrapped a moth-eaten blanket over my "God-Skin" jacket, and practiced my best "I have no thoughts, only chores" expression.
Total success. To the guards, I was just a piece of mobile furniture belonging to a scary elf.
But now, a few miles out into the open country, a sudden, icy chill crawled up my spine. It wasn't the midnight rain or the drafty carriage—it felt like a cold finger tracing the vertebrae of my neck. I shivered, my skin prickling with a "Spidey-sense" I didn't know I had.
"Are you okay, Master?" Elsa asked, her voice dropping the noble act and returning to that tone of wide-eyed reverence that usually preceded a fainting spell.
"Hey, knock it off with the 'Master' stuff," I hissed, rubbing my arms. "We're in the middle of nowhere. Call me Art. I'm just a guy. A nobody. A commoner."
From the front of the carriage, I heard a synchronized snort. Barnaby, who was navigating the slick road, and Herbert, who was following behind on the supply wagon, clearly weren't buying it. They'd seen me materialize 750 gold worth of "Divine Puffs" out of thin air earlier. To them, calling me a "nobody" was like calling a volcanic eruption a "warm breeze."
"Art," Elsa corrected herself, though she looked like she was swallowing a lemon. "What do you think will happen to Rufus and Mistress Helga? The Palace... they won't be kind."
"They'll be fine," I said, though a knot of anxiety was tightening in my gut. "As long as they stick to the script we practiced. Rufus plays the 'grumpy smith who doesn't know anything,' and Helga plays the 'distraught merchant who lost her best supplier.' I've watched enough spy thrillers and read enough over-the-top fantasy novels to know that as long as you have a plausible lie and a lot of gold to grease the wheels, you can survive almost anything."
I leaned my head against the wooden frame of the carriage, watching the dark silhouettes of trees blur past. "I hope," I added quietly.
A few hours later, the rain finally tapered off into a soft mist, and the oppressive feeling of being watched started to fade. I asked Elsa to do a "magic scan"—you know, the classic RPG move—to see if any Royal Hounds were on our tail. She closed her eyes, her rainbow hair shimmering a soft, calm blue.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, Art," she whispered. "Just the spirits of the woods and the hum of the earth."
I finally breathed. My lungs felt like they were expanding for the first time since I'd landed in this crazy world.
When the sun finally began to peek over the horizon, the view was—and I hate to be a cliché—absolutely breathtaking. It was peak Isekai vibes. To our left, the ocean sparkled like a field of crushed diamonds under the rising sun. To our right, rolling green valleys stretched out toward jagged, snow-capped mountains that looked like they'd been painted by a god on a really good day. We passed tiny hamlets with thatched roofs, emerald farms, and stone bridges that looked older than time itself.
It was gorgeous. It was serene. It was also going to be a three-week trip in a wooden box with no suspension.
"Three weeks," I groaned, shifting my weight as my lower back sent me a formal complaint. "My butt is going to be flat as a pancake by the time we reach the South. Why didn't I think to summon a 'Divine Gel Seat Cushion' before we left?"
"A... Gel Seat?" Elsa asked, tilting her head. "Is that another ancient relic of the scholars?"
"Never mind, Elsa," I sighed, pulling my blanket tighter as a cool morning breeze whipped through the window. "Just wake me up if we pass a 'Divine Coffee Shop.' Or a dragon. Actually, scratch the dragon. Let's just stick to the mountains and the butt-pain for now."
I closed my eyes, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses lulling me into a restless sleep. I was a fugitive in a leather jacket, heading toward a place so far away the Queen wouldn't bother looking. Or so I hoped.
[NOTIFICATION: TRAVEL MODE ACTIVATED. DISTANCE TO DESTINATION: 500 MILES. CURRENT VP: 60.]
"10VP points for snacks, 50VP for survival," I muttered to myself. "Let's see if the South is ready for a 'nobody' named Art."
*****
I woke up to a smell so heavenly I thought for a second I'd died and gone to a gourmet breakfast dimension. It was the scent of sizzling fat, peppery sausages, and bread toasted over an open flame. My stomach let out a growl that sounded like a tectonic plate shifting.
Elsa was sitting across from me, looking disgustingly radiant in the morning light. She offered me a wet towel with a polite, if somewhat amused, smile. "You were… making quite a lot of noise in your sleep, Arthur. And the, ah, fluids on your face?"
"It's called 'dream-juice,' Elsa. It's a sign of a genius at work," I sassed, though I snatched the towel and scrubbed the eye boogers and dried saliva off my face with frantic energy. Once I looked less like a swamp monster and more like a functional human, I hopped down from the carriage.
Barnaby and Herbert were leaning against a massive oak tree, their plates piled high. "Good morning, Art," Barnaby grunted, though his eyes were twinkling. He handed me a plate of sausages that were so plump they were practically bursting. "Eat up. We've made good time, but the horses need the fuel as much as we do."
I downed the food like I hadn't eaten in a decade, washing it all down with a dark, bitter tea that felt like a punch to the throat—the good kind. But as the caffeine hit, so did the realization of my own hygiene.
"I feel like a walking petri dish," I muttered, sniffing my armpit and immediately regretting it. Even a "God-Skin" jacket can't mask the scent of three days of "fugitive funk."
"Looking for something?" Herbert asked, wiping grease from his beard with the back of his massive hand.
"A well. A river. A bucket of bleach. Anything to get this grime off me," I replied.
"A few hours' ride behind those three peaks," Herbert said, pointing his fork toward a cluster of misty mountains. "There's a river fed by a waterfall. Clearest water in the province. Just past the third hamlet."
We packed up and hit the road again. Inside the carriage, the vibe got a little more personal. Elsa, her green eyes full of curiosity, leaned forward. "Art… tell me about the orphanage. Was it… grand? Did the scholars teach you the Tapping Ritual there?"
I leaned back, the "Manly Sass" fading for a moment. I didn't have the memories of the kid who lived in the slums here—I just had my life. My life back on Earth, where I was just a scrawny kid in a system that didn't have much room for runts.
"It wasn't grand, Elsa," I said, staring out at the passing trees. "I was just a speck of dust. The kind of kid people walked past without seeing. I was bullied because I was small, and I spent most of my time hiding in books or staring at screens because the real world was… well, it was mean."
Elsa looked at me with a soft, pained expression. "So you were a hidden prince? Reared in hardship to test your spirit?"
"No," I laughed, a bit dryly. "I was just a kid who got lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how many Royal Inquisitors are currently looking for me."
By mid-noon, the sound of the world changed. The rustle of leaves was replaced by a distant, booming roar. We rounded a bend, and there it was: a majestic waterfall plunging into a turquoise basin so clear I could see the smooth white stones at the bottom. The mist from the falls caught the sunlight, creating a permanent rainbow that looked like it had been painted for an anime opening.
"The Great Silver Drop," Herbert announced, pulling the horses to a halt.
I scrambled out of the carriage, already reaching for my utility bag. "Nobody look at me! I'm going to be in that water for at least an hour, and if anyone tries to 'Divine' my nakedness, I'm doubling the price of Cheetos for everyone!"
I walked toward the water, feeling the cool spray on my face. It was time to wash off the capital's dust and get ready for the South.