Joji left Daisy's office and headed for the left wing where the knights were quartered.
The men greeted him with an easy warmth, the sort reserved for a fellow knight.
"Joji, how fare you? Looking for someone?"
"You're looking fit and sound. Care to cross blades for a while?"
"Aye, Joji, you rogue. Where are you off to? Come, we're about to feast on ham and cheese."
Something in him softened at that. In the original Joji's memories, such greetings had been stiff and distant, more duty than fellowship. This felt different.
"Next time, alright," Joji said. Then he shifted his weight and asked, "I'm looking for my friend Alaric. Any of you know where he's at?"
One of them pointed him farther down the hall toward a room, and the others drifted off.
Joji stepped inside.
Alaric was no ordinary knight. They called him the Thorny Flower of Everhart.
He was already nearing Elite Knight, the fourth rank, and his fencing was sharp enough to draw blood in less than a blink. His delicate appearance only made men misjudge him.
Long, wavy blond hair framed a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His narrow almond eyes seemed to ask for tenderness without speaking. Clean-shaven cheeks, clear skin, and a lean, toned build made him the sort of man half the ladies of the duchy whispered about like a prayer they ought not utter aloud.
Knowing Alaric had been the original Joji's closest friend, Joji felt no need for formality.
"Wake up, Alaric. Why are you still in bed? It's only afternoon," Joji said.
He caught the blanket and yanked it back to startle him awake, then froze.
Alaric had nothing on. Joji snapped the blanket back over him at once.
Too late.
Alaric jolted awake fully and caught Joji by the wrist, dragging him close on instinct, half confused and half defensive.
Joji's stomach turned. He was not into men before, and he was not about to start now. Wind stirred beneath his skin, a clean burst of force, and his palm knocked Alaric's hand aside.
"Nah, bruh. Quit playing, Alaric. I'm not into that," Joji said, shaking his head with a sour look.
Alaric blinked as his thoughts cleared and he recognized Joji at last. He pulled the blanket over himself, coughed, and looked anywhere but Joji's face.
"Joji. What brings you here?" Alaric asked, suddenly looking like some delicate woman caught bare beneath the sheets.
Joji did not bother with a long explanation. He leaned close to Alaric's ear and acted as though he were about to share something grave.
"Yo... I'm heading out on a lowkey mission. I was thinking of bringing you with me. Just you and me."
That woke Alaric faster than any shout. The last of his grogginess vanished, replaced by sharp interest. He had been waiting a long time for something that sounded like real adventure.
"Where are we bound?" Alaric asked softly.
"Lacrosse. Small town," Joji said. "Report says it's about a day's ride from here."
Alaric's gaze shifted. It was not teasing now. It was careful, as if he were already counting problems.
"Joji... it's not that I won't come. There's just one issue," Alaric said, wearing a peculiar look.
"Issue? What you mean? How can I help?" Joji asked, already wanting the matter settled.
"It's just that... you do not have a horse, Joji."
Joji slapped a hand to his forehead. At once he remembered the original Joji's stubborn pride, the sort that turned even a simple purchase into a grand vow.
He could almost hear the old nonsense now, something about needing a brave steed worthy of charging ten thousand men. The new owner of the body felt a headache bloom.
Then an idea struck.
He cleared his throat as though he had planned it all from the start.
"Alaric, you do not need to fuss. We are not riding horses. We are taking a roofless wagon with a mule to pull it."
Alaric's lips twitched. Joji was the kind of man who would sooner bite his tongue than admit he had been wrong. Alaric relented, though he added a little sense of his own.
"Then we should dress as adventurers. It'll draw less attention," Alaric said, hiding his excitement behind his eyes.
"Great idea. Let's do that," Joji said, laughing just enough to make it sound natural.
After that, Joji moved quickly. He made a list of what they needed and sent it along to Daisy. Rations. Water. A simple wagon. A mule.
He went to the armory and asked Head Knight Gregorius to lend him a pair of steel gauntlets. Alaric would carry the bow.
By the time dawn crept near and their departure began to feel real, Alaric was dressed in a fitted black top tight as a corset, bronzed buttons catching the light, the neckline cut low enough to seem deliberate. A steel pauldron sat on one shoulder with a bronze rim. Straps cinched his waist, and from them hung his bow and quivers where his hands could find them without looking.
Joji wore a blackened steel cuirass, its layered plates strapped tight at the sides with leather and rivets. Rounded pauldrons capped his shoulders, and thick metal bracers wrapped his forearms.
"What the hell are those?" Joji said, pointing both hands at Alaric's outfit. "I ain't looking at no damn adventurer. All I'm seeing is a fucking hooker. Fishnets and frills? Seriously? You trying to get yourself clowned out there?"
"You questioned my choices even back then," Alaric shot back. "This is fashion, all right? It is comfortable too. Look at me, I am built lean. Do you expect me to haul myself around in all that baggy armor?"
While the two men traded jests, Joji caught sight of Daisy lingering in the shadows, anxious and reluctant, as if he were marching off to war and might never return to her. He pulled her aside, asked for a kiss, then held her in a brief embrace that lasted just long enough to linger.
"I want you to keep doing this while I'm gone," Joji said.
He took her hand and traced the motion of self pleasure against her palm. Daisy's face flushed at once. She glanced past Joji, worried Alaric might notice the secret signal between them, then gave Joji a light hit.
"Come back soon," she whispered.
Joji nodded and walked away before the farewell could stretch any longer. Alaric, already seated on the wagon, gave a scoff as he took up the mule's reins.
As they rolled away, Daisy stood waving her handkerchief, her eyes already glossed with tears, her heart missing Joji before he was even gone.
The road passed without incident. No trouble, no disturbances, not even a cry for help.
At noon, they pulled off the road to rest beneath what little shade they could find and escape the worst of the sun.
Before long, a caravan rolled up and halted near their wagon. Its guards cast them disdainful looks, the sort usually reserved for adventurers thought poor, loud, and desperate.
The merchant himself was another matter. He was a plump blond man draped in jewelry, with ballooning trousers that swayed as he walked.
Even so, his hair was neatly groomed, his teeth white, and his skin clear, all of it marking him as a man of discipline rather than one drowning in indulgence or fleshly vice. He approached them with a practiced smile.
"Good sirs, if I may ask, where are you bound?" the man said with a smile.
He came closer, his eyes flicking over their weapons. There was a sharpness in that gaze.
Walter could tell at once they were no ordinary travelers. His manner changed on the spot, and he gave them a bow.
"My name is Walter Cutler, good sirs, of the Cutler family, at your service."
By habit, Walter twirled his beard and studied Alaric far more closely than Joji.
"Good adventurers, if it pleases you, I am bound for the County of Fellbarrow, and I would hire your company on the road."
Joji did not know how best to answer. He still understood little of how the world truly worked, beyond what he had pieced together from memory and rumor, so he turned his eyes toward Alaric.
"Pardon me, good sir. Our road may end sooner than yours. We may not be able to escort you all the way to Fellbarrow," Alaric said smoothly.
"No matter. No matter," Walter said, fluttering a hand. "Even half the road would serve me well enough. The Duchy of Everhart has, so they say, been plagued by bandits of late. I have heard as much on the road."
Alaric glanced at Joji. Joji only gave a small shrug, leaving the choice in his hands. With a quiet sigh, Alaric nodded.
"My name is Ava, without surname. This is my companion, Desmond, also without surname."
"We will be under your care, Mister Cutler," Alaric said, bowing with the ease of someone well practiced in polite lies.
So they joined the caravan and moved on.
As the road passed beneath them, the guards kept stealing glances at Alaric. Both he and Joji had trained with aura, and their hearing was sharp enough to catch every muttered word.
"See Ava over there. Her bodice near gave her away a moment ago. Gods, I would wager these old bones of mine still have enough life in them to try my luck."
"Mind your tongue. Ava is a name fit for an angel, not for your gutter mouth. Do not drag my goddess through your filth."
"Look there, that bald lout at her side. I would wager he has had his hands on her more nights than not, and none of it gentle."
Joji had never been one to care much about gossip, but hearing them speak of him as if he bedded Alaric like some bought whore made his stomach turn.
Then Alaric smirked. He let his fingers run along Joji's arm like a lover, feeling the muscle beneath the bracer.
The guards' eyes widened at the shameless display. The older ones leaned forward with wrinkled grins, their faces hungry for more.