The Reluctant Hero: Why Is Everyone After Me?

Liliana huffed as she sheathed her sword, the faint click echoing against the quiet stretch of road. Her sharp eyes turned toward the knights still waiting by their mounts.

"Get your horses ready," she ordered. "We leave in five minutes."

The knights nodded quickly, though a few dared to exchange exhausted glances. The day had been long—too long—and no one wanted to test the countess's patience.

Jio, ever the quiet and obedient one, climbed back onto the driver's seat of the carriage. He adjusted his gloves, straightened his posture, and flicked the reins gently. The horses neighed but didn't move.

The reason came in the form of one annoyingly calm voice.

"Countess," Aithur called, his tone smooth enough to make her grip her hilt again.

Liliana froze mid-step and turned with a glare that could split stone. "What?"

Aithur smiled—that same disarming, too-perfect smile he always wore whenever he was about to say something irritating. He gestured behind him with his thumb, toward the midnight-black carriage parked a short distance away.

Liliana's eyes followed his gesture. Then she blinked.

One of the wheels was missing. Not broken—missing. The whole thing sat lopsided like a drunken ox.

Arthur's grin widened. "It seems my carriage has lost one of its legs," he said lightly. "A tragic thing, really. I suppose I'll have to borrow space on yours."

Liliana crossed her arms, unimpressed. "And you think that's my problem because…?"

"Well," Aithur said, stepping closer with the kind of confidence that made her jaw tighten, "you are a knight, Countess. A woman of noble duty and all that. Surely you wouldn't abandon a stranded man of my status by the roadside, would you? It would be… unbecoming of you."

Liliana's eye twitched. She really, truly wanted to stab him.

"Your 'status," she said slowly, "is exactly why I should leave you here. Maybe the capital will send someone to fetch their precious grand duke."

Aithur chuckled. "You wound me, Countess. Is this how you treat your allies?"

"Who said you were my ally?"

Before the verbal duel could turn into an actual one, a lazy voice cut through the tension.

"Will you two lovebirds stop flirting already?"

Both turned toward the carriage. Luther's head poked out the window, his expression a mix of exhaustion and irritation.

Liliana's face turned crimson. "Lovebirds?!"

Aithur, ever shameless, smirked. "Ah, finally, someone noticed."

"Don't make me freeze both of you," Luther warned, voice dangerously flat. "Either get in the damn carriage or take your ridiculous courtship somewhere else. Some of us still need our sanity."

The knights, trying not to laugh, failed miserably. Snickers rippled through the group.

Liliana's glare could have burned through steel. Arthur looked rather pleased with himself.

"Fine," she snapped, "but only until we reach the next town. After that, Grand Duke, you're on your own."

"Of course," Aithur said, pretending to bow. "I wouldn't dream of overstaying my welcome."

"Good," she muttered.

"Then again," Aithur added with a teasing lilt, "you might miss me by then."

"Keep talking and I'll make sure you don't live long enough for me to."

Luther groaned, massaging his temples. He muttered under his breath, "Reading about idiots like them in books was one thing… Watching it live is actual torture."

The demonic sword, hanging loosely at his side, snickered. "You sound like a tired father watching his two children fight."

"I sound like a man trying not to commit murder before lunch," Luther replied flatly.

"Same difference," the sword chuckled.

Luther didn't dignify that with a response.

Aithur and Liliana approached the carriage at last—but, of course, they had to start again.

"Ladies first," Aithur said gallantly, gesturing toward the door.

Liliana gave him a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh no, please. I insist. The Grand Duke should go first. After all, your status demands it."

"But your beauty does," he countered smoothly.

Jio, up front, covered his face with his hand. "God help me."

Luther's patience finally snapped.

The temperature dropped like a stone.

The air in the carriage thickened as frost crept along the edges of the windows. The ground beneath their boots turned white, a thin layer of ice blooming outward.

Aithur and Liliana froze—literally—as an aura of dark, cold energy began radiating from the inside.

Luther sat on the seat, head tilted, one eye glowing faintly gold. His expression was dead calm, which somehow made it worse.

"...If the two of you don't get in this carriage right now," he said quietly, "I swear I'll encase both of you in ice and use you as traveling decorations."

Aithur's smile faltered. "Now, Luther, let's not be hasty—"

"Inside."

Liliana jumped in first. "Fine! Fine! Don't freeze me!"

Aithur sighed dramatically, brushing invisible frost off his sleeve. "You really have no appreciation for the art of conversation, Saint."

Luther leaned back in his seat, eyes half-lidded. "You call that conversation? I call it noise pollution."

The sword snorted from where it hung on the carriage seat. "I like this part. You sound like an old man again."

"Shut up," Luther muttered.

Aithur climbed in after Liliana, still smirking, though his breath was visible in the cold. He sat opposite Luther beside Liliana, crossing one leg over the other like nothing had happened.

"Tell me, Saint," Aithur said, his voice full of mischief, "do you threaten all your companions, or only those you find irritating?"

Luther didn't even look up. "Only the ones who think they're charming."

Liliana snorted. "Finally, someone said it."

Arthur put a hand to his chest, feigning heartbreak. "You wound me again, Countess. Are you two ganging up on me now?"

Luther's lips twitched—barely—but there was amusement in his eyes. "If it keeps you quiet, yes."

The sword chuckled again. "Oh, I'm enjoying this ride already."

"Glad someone is," Luther grumbled.

He leaned back against the seat and let his head rest on the wooden panel behind him. His mind was already wandering. This is ridiculous, he thought. All I wanted was a few days of peace. But no, the gods apparently decided I needed a talkative sword, a sarcastic duke, and a woman with anger issues in one carriage.

The sword hummed in amusement. "You're muttering again."

"Good. Maybe they'll take the hint and shut up."

"Unlikely," Aithur said, overhearing. "You attract chaos, my dear Saint. It's practically a gift."

"Then I want a refund."

That got Liliana to laugh—a short, reluctant sound that surprised even her.

Luther glanced her way, eyebrow raised. "Did the great Countess just laugh?"

She glared at him. "It was a cough."

"Sounded like a laugh to me."

"It wasn't."

Aithur leaned forward, smirking. "Oh," she laughed. I saw it."

"Both of you shut up before I make good on that ice threat," he said through gritted teeth.

The demonic sword cackled. "You three are the worst team I've ever seen—and I've been wielded by murderers."

Luther sighed. "You're not wrong."

"You're still boring though," the sword teased.

Luther shot it a glare. "You want to join them outside?"

"Tempting, but I value my blade."

The carriage rolled forward again, the horses' hooves clicking against the cobblestone road. For a while, silence settled.