"But wait," Kofi said, his brow furrowing slightly. "Isn't House Roselié a Dukedom? Why did you introduce it as a Countdom?" His voice, still calm, held a note of genuine confusion.
Alexia's smile faltered, replaced by a momentary flash of something akin to sadness in her eyes. "You are more knowledgeable than I would have thought, 'just Kofi'. " she said, her tone suddenly guarded. "My family... our status was recently changed. It's a matter of political intrigue, a subject not worth discussing on a dusty road." She gestured to the knights, who were still on alert. "We have a long journey ahead of us. We should make haste. Our destination is the city of Solara, where I am to meet my fiancé." She paused, her gaze lingering on his. "If you are traveling in that direction, perhaps you would consider joining us? A man with your skills would be a valuable asset to our small caravan."
Kofi looked from her to the knights, then back to her. The promise of a new life, of a journey away from the village and its painful memories, beckoned to him. "Solara," he repeated, considering the name. "It is a long journey."
"Indeed," Alexia replied, her smile returning. "But with a man like you, I have no doubt we will arrive safely."
Kofi's gaze remained on Alexia's, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "As long as you're cool with two more people tagging along," he said. He stepped to the side, revealing two figures who had been hiding behind him. It was his mother, Naomi, and his younger sister, Ama. They were both tired and covered in dirt, but relief washed over their faces as they saw Kofi.
"Big brother, you're so damn fast," Ama said, her voice a mix of exasperation and adoration. "No fair."
Alexia's eyes widened slightly, but her composure didn't falter. She simply smiled and nodded. "Of course. The more the merrier. And a man like you, with a family to protect, is a man I can trust." She looked at Kofi's mother. "You must be very proud of your son, ma'am. He's a true warrior."
Naomi, her eyes filled with tears, simply gave her a shaky smile. She was just glad they were safe.
Kofi looked from his mother to Alexia and back, a small smile on his face. "Would it be okay if my mother and sister rode in the cart with you, My Lady?" he asked. "They've been walking for a while."
Captain Owen's face turned a deep shade of red. "How dare you!" he bellowed, his hand on his sword hilt once more. "You're asking Lady Alexia to share her private quarters with commoners? That's disrespectful! I ought to teach you some manners right here and now."
Kofi's expression didn't change. His eyes, now as cold as a winter morning, met Owen's. "You think you can?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Owen's rage flared, but before he could act, Alexia clapped her hands together, a sound that cut through the tension. "It's all right, Sir Owen," she said calmly. "It would be an honor to have them." She turned to Kofi, her eyes twinkling. "Will you be joining us in the cart, 'Just Kofi' ?"
He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "No, thanks. I'll just be on the roof. It's best I keep watch." He continued "Please stop calling me 'Just Kofi'," he said, his voice flat. "It's annoying."
Alexia laughed, the sound as light and clear as a bell. "But that's how you introduced yourself," she said, her tone teasing. "I'll stop, if you really want me to."
About two hours later, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the road. The caravan had settled into a steady rhythm, the creak of the cart and the soft thud of the horses' hooves filling the quiet air. From his perch on the cart's roof, Kofi could feel Owen's stare. It was a constant, heavy weight, and after a while, he'd had enough. "You have a problem with me?" Kofi asked, his voice low but clear. "You've been eyeing me for a while now."
Owen bristled, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. "I have a huge problem with you, all right. Firstly, you're a commoner, and you dare to sit on the cart's roof? That's for my Lady's guards, not some... savage."
Kofi simply shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that only seemed to infuriate Owen further. "You're just mad because I got to do it first."
Owen let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. "Do you honestly think I, Sir Owen, who was trained by the head of House Roselié himself, would be jealous of sitting on top of a common cart?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with condescension.
Kofi simply shook his head and gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Yes," he said, his voice flat. He looked out at the darkening landscape for a moment before turning back to Owen. "How many more days until we reach our destination?"
"About two weeks," Owen replied, a sneer still on his face.
"Good," Kofi said. "In those two weeks, I'll give you the opportunity to challenge me for this spot. If you win, you can sit up here all you want."
Owen's jaw tightened. "Do you actually believe that I, an honorable knight, would just agree to such a foolish challenge?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with outrage.
Kofi's lips curled into a half-smile. "You sound more like a chicken than a knight, though," he said calmly, his words landing with the precision of a thrown dagger.
That was the breaking point. Owen's face turned a deep crimson. "Fine!" he roared. "After tonight, you'll see what a chicken can do. This spot will be mine."
"So it was about the spot! I knew it." Kofi said
From inside the cart, two sets of giggles erupted. Naomi and Alexia had been listening to the entire exchange. "They seem rather close, don't they?" Alexia said, her voice filled with amusement.
Ama, still curled up against her mother, nodded. "My brother always has this weird thing that draws people to him," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "He gets on their nerves at first, but they always end up getting along. So, I'm not surprised at all about Sir Owen."
As the last of the campfire's flames crackled, a tense silence fell over the camp. A circle of knights and servants had gathered, all eyes fixed on the two figures standing in the center. Owen, his armor polished and gleaming, drew his sword with a practiced flourish, its tip glinting in the moonlight. Kofi, dressed in simple leathers, stood opposite him, his hands empty. "Don't you have a weapon?" Owen scoffed. "Or are you so arrogant that you think you can fight a knight with your bare hands?"
Kofi simply smirked. "I don't need a weapon to beat you," he said calmly, his Prana beginning to thrum around his body like a faint heartbeat.
Owen charged first, his movements a blur of aggression. He swung his sword in a wide arc, a textbook attack taught to him by the head of House Roselié himself. But Kofi was faster. He dodged the blade, his feet a blur as he used the Khula's footwork to weave around Owen. He moved with a grace that was almost supernatural, a dance of evasion that frustrated and enraged the knight.
The crowd watched in awe as Kofi effortlessly deflected every blow, his body a masterpiece of fluid motion. He didn't attack. He simply waited, letting Owen tire himself out. The fight went on for a solid ten minutes, Owen growing more and more furious with each failed strike.
Finally, Owen lunged, his body completely off balance. Kofi saw his opening. He stepped in, a swift palm strike to the knight's chest, the force of his Prana sending Owen flying backward. He landed with a thud, his sword clattering to the ground beside him.
Kofi walked over to him, a faint smile on his lips. "I told you," he said, offering a hand to the stunned knight. "You're a chicken."
Owen's face was flushed with embarrassment as he took Kofi's offered hand. He got to his feet, dusting himself off as the other knights looked on, a mix of awe and amusement on their faces. "I went easy on you," Owen muttered, his eyes darting to the side. "It was our first duel, after all."
Kofi raised an eyebrow, a flicker of a smile on his face. "First?"
"Yes, first," Owen said, meeting his gaze with renewed determination. "Those were your words, weren't they? Until we reach our destination, we'll duel every day for the next two weeks." He held out his hand. "And tonight, I will let you have the cart."
In a village somewhere.
Loud screams of pleasure are heard for a while up until they die out. Than a man rolled out of bed, his feet landing on the cold floor of the inn room. He was a large man, with a thick beard and eyes that held a cruel glint. Around him, on the floor and tangled in the sheets, lay seven passed-out girls. He poured a generous amount of whiskey into a glass, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light of the room. Just as he was about to take a sip, a knock echoed on the door. "Enter," he grunted, his voice a low rumble.
The door creaked open, and a man in a dark cloak slipped inside. He bowed, his head low.
"My lord," he said, his voice deferential. "Our spy has confirmed that Lady Alexia Roselié will pass through our village in two days."
A slow, perverted smile spread across the lord's face. He licked his lips, his gaze distant and calculating. "Good," he said, the word a low purr. "I've been waiting to add a new 'toy' to my collection, these ones are already broken."