Chapter 37: Logistics
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Sam
The morning mist still clung to the trees as the caravan yard stirred with quiet purpose, carts creaking and hooves clopping against stone. Sam stood just beyond the stable awning, one hand resting on the map case slung over his shoulder, the other tucked into his coat pocket.
He let his breath out slowly, watching it swirl into the chill air. How the hell did I get here? He didn't mean the logistics; he could trace the moments well enough. The Orb. The strange light. Being pulled into another world. Meeting Vael. The Cardinal Vote. That first night when everything had felt alien and dangerous, and she had looked at him like she was measuring whether or not he was real.
And now… here he was. Preparing for a trip with her by his side. It should've felt absurd. Surreal. He should've been terrified. Or itching for a way back home. But he wasn't. He glanced toward the main house where Vael was still gathering a final satchel.
She'd smiled at him this morning; flour no longer in her hair, skin warm from the bath, and eyes full of that soft, knowing mischief. And something in him had settled. Not because this world made sense. It didn't. Not because it was safe. It wasn't. But because she was here. And every strange, dangerous, miraculous thing seemed worth it if he could reach across the bed in the morning and find her hand.
This place, for all its mystery and power, was starting to feel more like home than anywhere he'd left behind. His lips quirked at the thought. He hadn't expected to want to stay. But he did. For her. For the strange, fragile peace she helped him find. For the new world they were building together; one moment, one secret, one shared breath at a time. And that clarity settled in his chest like warm iron.
I want to be here. With her.
He straightened as the stable master gave the final signal. Vael emerged from the house, wind catching her green cloak, the sun glinting off the matching green stone at her neck.
Sam smiled and stepped forward to meet her. "Ready?" she asked, eyes shining. He nodded once, firm. "Yeah. Let's go."
The courtyard echoed with the rhythm of final preparations. Paws stomped, leather creaked, and voices called out last-minute orders in the chill morning air.
A small convoy had gathered; modest in size but unmistakably important. Banners bearing the sigil of the Eryshae Royal family fluttered from the two main carriages, both crafted of polished darkwood with iron-banded wheels and engraved with swirling vine patterns. Soldiers in deep green uniforms lined the outer ring, their armor sleek and ceremonial but clearly made for real combat.
Sam stood near the lead carriage, adjusting the strap of his satchel, when a figure approached him from the flank. "Vice-Chief Sam," a clear voice called, steady and low.
He turned to see a tall woman in dark green and black Eryshae Royal Guard armor. Her fiery red hair was pulled into a single braided tail that fell over her shoulder, and her expression was unreadable beneath the fine-etched plate that rested over her chest. A curved blade hung at her hip.
"I am Commander Toya Sidney. I've been assigned as your personal guard and in command of the soldiers for this journey. Your safety and success are now my concern." She inclined her head with practiced grace. "You need only give the word."
Sam blinked, slightly caught off guard by the formality. "Commander Sidney, huh? Good to meet you." He extended a hand, and she took it with a firm shake. "Call me Sam. I don't do much with the title."
Her eyes flicked to his, unreadable again. "You are leading this convoy on behalf of the Chief of the Eryshae Tribe. Until this mission ends, you are Vice-Chief in all matters, even higher than Cardinal Liri and Princess Vael."
He glanced past her toward the gathered soldiers; ten on Saber-tooth Raccoons, another ten flanking the two carriages. The formation was tight, purposeful, professional. This wasn't a token escort. This was a statement.
A carriage door swung open and Serene stepped out onto the polished footstep, dressed in travel-ready finery; a slim black riding dress with crimson accents and the faint shimmer of velvet on her sleeves. Her long cloak flowed behind her as she turned, graceful as ever.
"I assume this is mine?" she asked, eyeing the first carriage with a wry lift of her brow. "It is," Elowen answered from the main steps, where she and Corven stood observing. Serene climbed in without hesitation, arranging herself inside like a cat curling into sun-warmed silk.
Sam took a step toward the second carriage; then stopped, his eyes drifting to Vael. She stood by the stable, tightening the strap on her own Saber-Tooth Raccoon's saddle, her green cloak rippling in the wind. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. He turned back to the carriage and gave it a small, polite pat. "Think I'll take a horse."
"A horse?" Commanded Sidney said beside him, raising her eyebrow. "We only ride the medium sized Eryshae Guardians. He raised his eyebrow back. "I'll ride with her anyways," he answered simply, already walking.
Commander Sidney exhaled softly through her nose and gave a signal. A chestnut Eryshae was led forward, saddled and waiting. Sam mounted with a little difficulty, adjusting the reins and riding up beside Vael.
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"You sure you don't want a plush velvet seat and suspension wheels?" she teased as he approached. Sam smirked and stuck out his tongue. "I like the wind too much for that."
He reached over and gently flicked a strand of her green hair that had escaped its braid. "Couldn't let you have all the fun, even if these are giant raccoons… with saber teeth." From the porch, Corven raised a hand in salute. "Safe travels. Eyes open. Words measured."
"And make sure Eryshae interests come first," Elowen added, her voice sharp enough to slice air. Her eyes lingered on Serene through the window of the carriage. "We will," Sam said, his voice carrying across the courtyard, as he took everything in stride. What was riding a giant horse sized raccoon when compared to everything he has been through.
Then, with a command from Commander Sidney, the convoy began to move. Paws struck the ground in rhythm, wheels began to turn, and the banners of the Eryshae fluttered as they rolled out past the manor gates.
Sam glanced once more at Vael, their raccoons moving side by side. "First trip together," he murmured. She smiled. "And the start of something bigger." They rode toward the road, the weight of the mission ahead settling like steel in their spines, but the spark between them alive and fierce as ever.
The road out of the Eryshae capital, Ichi, wound through low hills, the morning sun slicing through the mist in shafts of gold. Paws padded steadily over damp earth and gravel, the rhythm a steady heartbeat beneath the chirr of waking insects and the rustle of trees leaning over the path. Birds scattered ahead of the convoy, and somewhere deeper in the woods, a lone stag cried out.
Sam rode just behind the lead carriage, Vael to his left, Toya Sidney to his right. The commander's posture was textbook perfect; spine straight, gaze forward, hand never straying far from the hilt at her hip.
"I'm guessing small talk's not really your thing," Sam said after a stretch of silence. Toya didn't look at him. "I prefer observation to idle chatter."
"Good. Then observe this." He leaned forward slightly in his saddle. "I don't need a babysitter. I need a second who'll tell me when I'm being stupid. Preferably before it gets someone killed." She flicked a glance toward him; sharp, measuring. "Then we understand each other."
They rode another beat in silence. A bird flitted low across the path. One of the rear guards shouted something in jest, drawing a chuckle from their flank. Sam gave a small nod. "Glad we've got that sorted."
Toya's voice was quiet, dry. "It's not sorted. Not yet. But you're less of a fool than I feared." Sam grinned. "Careful, Commander. That almost sounded like respect." She didn't smile back, but her gaze lingered a second longer before she looked away. "Don't make me regret it."
The forest thinned as the road leveled out, opening into broad farmland dappled with gold. Rows of late-season grain rippled in the breeze like braided silk, and small homesteads nestled between stone walls and thatched roofs. A few plumes of smoke rose from distant chimneys, curling into the blue.
Off to the right, a pair of farmers hoisted hay bales onto a wide wooden sled drawn by a plodding Eryshae. One of them straightened, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the convoy's banners fluttering from the lead carriage.
More heads turned; field hands paused in their work, a child on a fencepost pointed, and someone shouted, "Flags! Royal flags!" Sam watched it ripple outward, the way small lives bent momentarily toward something larger, something distant but present.
Then Vael lifted one gloved hand and waved. Not a perfunctory gesture. A true wave; warm and open, like she'd seen them all before and remembered each name. The effect was immediate. The farmers straightened taller. The child beamed and waved back with both arms. A few workers even bowed where they stood, hands over hearts.
"You do that on purpose?" Sam asked quietly. Vael didn't look at him as they rode on, her gaze still out over the fields as she said. "They remember the old eldritch excursion a decade ago. The one that took too many sons and left too little food. The Eryshae don't ride through with flags often; when we do, they look to see if we still see them."
Sam followed her gaze, the fields rolling like an ocean of labor and survival, stitched together by hands that would never sit in the council halls. "You see them," he said. She turned to him then, a soft smile in her eyes. "How could I not?"
Their raccoons rode in easy rhythm again, the convoy stretching behind them like a long thread of green and steel against the gold. And the people kept watching.
The farmland began to thin as the road sloped gently through low hills, dust kicking up beneath hooves and wheels. The morning sun had started to warm the stones, and the scent of hay and crushed clover followed them on the wind.
Sam's thoughts drifted again; back to Vael, to the flicker of joy in her wave, to the way the farmers had looked at her like something half myth, half hope. A child waved with both hands, nearly falling over the fence rail to get a better view. Vael smiled and waved back without hesitation. She knows how to carry this. Not just as a leader. As herself.
He felt the weight of that settle on his shoulders; not heavy, exactly. Just real. Tangible. Like responsibility in its rawest form. And then a voice called ahead, soft but clear:
"Commander. Traveler on the road."
Sam looked up. One of the forward scouts had circled back again at a trot. "Not hostile. Dismounted now. Older man. Hooded. He was riding a donkey; stepped aside when he saw us coming. Just… waiting." Commander Toya's expression didn't change, but her tone shifted slightly. "How close?"
"Half a bend. He waved. Didn't speak. Looks like a Druid." Toya gave a small nod. "Let him stand. We won't stop unless he forces it." As the convoy rounded the curve, the figure came into view: an old man in a layered moss-green cloak with bark-colored stitching, a crooked staff strapped across his back. The donkey beside him stood patiently in the grass off the road, nibbling at wild fennel.
The Druid raised a hand as they approached, but didn't speak. Sam's raccoon slowed instinctively. The Druid raised a hand in greeting; slow and deliberate; but made no move to block their path.
Then, just as they came abreast, the Druid hoisted himself up onto the donkey's back with fluid ease. The donkey turned of its own accord, falling into rhythm beside Sam's raccoon. Sam tensed but didn't pull away. There was a warmth in the Druid's presence; not heat in the skin, but something deeper, something settled in the marrow. It steadied him in ways he couldn't define.
The Druid looked at him sidelong. "Your posture's wrong for a soldier," he said, voice like old cedar. "But the weight you carry suits a commander." Sam eyed him. "That supposed to be a compliment?"
"An observation," the Druid replied. "Compliments are for people who want something."
"And you?"
"I want nothing. I'm already beside the one I sought." Sam was quiet, the words landing like pebbles in a still pond. He looked ahead, letting the convoy fill the silence. The Druid said nothing more for a while. He simply rode alongside, his donkey matching pace effortlessly, as if the road bent to accommodate them both.
Vael's raccoon came up behind them, close enough to hear, but she didn't interrupt. Her gaze flicked once to the Druid, then back to the path ahead. Sam couldn't shake the feeling; not of danger, not even of being watched. Just... seen.
He exhaled through his nose, low. "You're not here for a warning, are you?" The Druid smiled faintly, eyes crinkling. "I'm here for the moment that follows this one." And still, he stayed.