Charice walked out of the carriage and felt his head spin, the heat slamming him like a truck. A cold sensation crawled down his spine quickly, flowing through his bones, akin to a cold breeze.
He sighed, feeling the hand of Order chill him, and looked at the treacherous climb ahead of them.
"...Why don't we have a proper road established to Abra's nest?"
Michael answered, looking at the other Paragon's reluctance, "Well, if we made a path, invaders could also use it, not to mention we would usually not climb this high. There is a path that leads out of the city that is far easier to take, but..."
It didn't lead to Abra; this impromptu hiking trail did.
"Just take the horses then!" Charice complained, "They can climb these easily, aren't they warhorses trained for it? Not to mention they aren't normal warhorses either!"
An unsteady silence followed. And Charice's eye twitched in annoyance.
"We're wasting time! I need to get to Abra now!"
It was Sun-Tzu who said to act strong when you're weak. Charice had taken this to heart; he felt intimidated and overwhelmed, so he acted dominant and assertive in turn.
From the Paragons' perspective, there was no compromise in his words, not a shred of sympathy for his exhausted men because they did not deserve it as far as he was concerned. There was only an imperialistic, almost immature anger in effect.
In a way, Charice was used to it; decades of roleplay allowed him to embody his Consort persona. He had studied politics for years in his free time just to perfect it all, to create an avatar he could be proud of.
Charice's foot dug into the desert sand beneath him, feeling the specs of dust rubbing his toes, his hair brushed against the wind, and he took a deep breath to ground himself.
It was a seamless transition; acting felt like second nature to him now, even if the stakes had risen.
"With the wyverns, searching for my beloved is easier; you understand the importance of this." It was an order; they could only stand at attention and do as commanded.
Michael and the Paragons got to work quickly, even though unease clawed at their heart. Michael unhooked one of the horses from the carriage for himself, guiding the massive creature with a worried glance.
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The reason for their unease was apparent; there was a mountain of pressure awaiting them at the peak, and even if they could handle it, the horses might not be so willing. And reining in a wild warhorse on this unpredictable terrain could be a death sentence.
Michael sighed. He would speak up, but the reason for his silence was clear: 'The Consort is a far more imposing presence than whatever is at the top. The horses can't feel this, but we can.'
Indeed, the Consort's supremacy was a performance, but the power behind it was not.
None of them could speak up even if they tried, so they fell in line instead.
As Michael led the two horses that pulled the carriage away from it, Charice stopped him.
"You." He pointed to the Paragon who had stopped them at the city gates, at Jeremy, "Stay here and guard the carriage along with one of the two horses."
Michael raised an eye, 'There is one horse for each Paragon and two for the carriage, at least two will be needed for both me and the Consort to ride-'
Charice silently looked at Michael, the warhorse he took from the carriage, and raised his hands, as if awaiting a hug.
"...Eh, Consort?"
Charice looked away, as if embarrassed, his previously commanding persona vanishing in the blink of an eye.
"I need help getting... Uhm, up there. It's too tall. And I don't even know how to ride a horse."
"Oh. Of course." Michael then looked down and felt panic creep into his mind; his colleagues could only look at him with pity.
'Where can I touch?! I mean, I can't grab him by the hips, surely? Maybe the armpits... But, like a toddler?! Oh Gods, why test me in this wicked way?!
"Uh, Michael? You okay?" Charice asked, looking at the increasingly stressed guard, "Oh gosh, are you having heatstroke?! I can't feel the heat all that well, so I didn't realize!"
If the Paragons were not trained to be stoic, they would laugh; Jeremy almost did. After all, none of them were affected by the heat, and the reason for Michael's pause was apparent.
"Ah- No. I'm quite alright, yes." Michael said as if convincing himself. With a stressed sigh, he picked Charice up as if he were an atomic bomb in human form, holding him at as much of a distance as possible.
Charice climbed onto the horse, feeling the mighty mount firmly hold him, used to far heavier loads. Charice then looked around.
None of the guards approached to sit with him and direct the horse; Michael was just taking the reins while standing on foot
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There was enough space in the saddle for another person; they were designed for larger beings after all. With that measurement in mind, Charice patted the space behind him while looking at Michael.
"Come, come."
Michael could not put his thoughts into words. Jeremy the Paragon looked away, a tear of envy streaming down his cheek as the sun graced him with its rays.
"...Understood..." That is all Michael could squeeze out after a few seconds of tense silence. He climbed up onto the horse with ease despite its height and gripped the reins. The others were already prepared, and Jeremy had, with a depressed demeanor, taken up his post near the carriage, halberd in hand.
Charice snuggled into the seat, Michael screaming internally as he did so, and with a small smile, motioned forward.