It was then that a guard, another Paragon, knocked on the carriage door.
Michael flinched and reached out to open it, disappointed he wouldn't get to ask about a certain something.
"What is it?" Michael asked his fellow Paragon, who, while still galloping on his steed, bowed as much as he could. He graced Michael with a quick nod of acknowledgment before focusing on Charice. Charice recognized him as Jeremy, his long blonde hair reminiscent of the dawn's light.
"Forgive the interruption, my Consort, I wish to inform you that we have departed the city and will be at Abra's nest in approximately eight hours."
Charice clicked his tongue before quickly covering his mouth, "So long? Do we not have druids, pathfinders, hunters...? Any would do just fine..."
The Paragon lowered his head with some shame, "Sadly, no, we failed to get a druid on time. Forgive us."
Michael couldn't help but sympathize with his colleague, who was now in a difficult position.
'It's because it was too sudden. Druids are hard to find in settlements; they often have to be sought out a good week ahead of time for one to show up and be willing to work. But he can't just say that to the Consort...'
With an uncharacteristic, almost imperial eye, Charice sighed with a glimpse of disappointed anger. In reality, he was falling back into his roleplaying habits, so ingrained that he didn't even notice the subtle cues he was giving.
"I've not seen Abra in quite a while, the poor boy was defending our home for a long time..." He mumbled to himself, his flat, uninterested tone made him sound ominous when in reality, he wasn't all that concerned.
'...I guess there's nothing I can do.' Charice sighed, and the Paragon could only take it as an internal decapitation.
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Charice, meanwhile, drifted away from their conversation and toward Abra, and, of course, Maximus.
"C-Consort, if I may talk out of turn," Michael spoke up now, nervous at the sight of the 'displeased' Charice, "It is very difficult to find a Druid at such short notice. I think my colleagues are not at fault for this."
Charice rolled his eyes, blatantly uninterested in the conversation as his mind drifted to his beloved and favored companion, his imperialistic gaze growing stronger, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Shoo." He waved the Paragon away, and the two guards glanced at one another.
'Sorry, man, I tried.' Michael thought, and Jeremy nodded firmly, a silent 'Thank you for trying,' in his stoic eyes as his onix mount huffed underneath him.
With that, the Paragon excused himself, and Michael closed the door.
The rest of the trip was peaceful as Charice remained in his world. He moved the curtains out of the way as he looked out at the guards and past them.
Three hours had passed. The city loomed beneath them, and the air swelled with heat. Oddly enough, the land seemed to grow hotter, not colder, as one would expect from more typical highlands.
The mountain road trailed and squiggled over narrow paths and thin routes, snaking the edge of the peaks.
The city below was a fantastical sight, equally impressive and nonsensical, downright irrational. The palms that occasionally passed by the window didn't help that impression - They covered the mountains. Along with the occasional tumbleweed that rolled down the mountainside.
"Hm," Was all Charice had to say as he watched the two plants sway in the wind. He found it cool to see the typical tree growing from the scorched orange dust, but the sight was all too familiar.
"You know, aren't these sorts of deserts filled with gold? They were in one game I played at least... Maybe we should mine it?"
Michael contemplated for a second before responding, not sure if the Consort was speaking to him or only thinking aloud.
"There are significant deposits, Consort, but mining in them was always considered risky, since Abra claimed them as his."
"Oh... Never mind then."
A knock could be heard. Michael opened the door again, and a Paragon, now unmounted, bowed with proper decorum.
They would have to continue on foot; the path ended here, so the following four hours would consist of climbing.