Chapter 2: Traveling With a Noble Pain
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The town of Ferndale was small—one of those quiet places where nothing much happened except harvests and gossip. Arden liked it that way. Or rather, he used to like it.
Now, he stood awkwardly in the middle of the town square while three heavily armored wagons rolled in behind him, drawn by enchanted horses and accompanied by no fewer than six uniformed attendants.
All because of her.
Lady Elenora Aurelion, the Ice Princess of the North, walked beside him with the poise of a queen and the obliviousness of a thunderstorm.
"Do you have to bring this many things?" Arden asked, watching one attendant nearly trip under the weight of a trunk labeled Winter Court Formalwear.
Elenora didn't even blink. "I travel with what I require. A noblewoman must maintain her standard."
"You're going on the road, not attending a ball."
She gave him a sidelong glance. "You think I packed the ballgown trunks?"
"…You have more than one?"
She didn't answer.
Arden groaned. "This was a mistake."
The villagers, of course, were eating this up. Dozens of them had gathered just to watch the two of them bicker. A few had already started betting on how many days it would take before Arden snapped.
"Ten gold says he caves in a week," someone whispered.
"I give it three days," another muttered. "That woman could freeze fire."
Arden caught it all, and it didn't help his mood. "You know, you could tone it down a little."
Elenora raised an eyebrow. "Tone what down?"
All of it, he wanted to say. The commanding presence, the royal entourage, the trunks that probably weighed more than a troll.
But he didn't say it. Because even though she was a pain in the ass, she'd still offered to help. And she had technically asked to travel with him.
"I'll go ahead and get our Guild paperwork sorted," he muttered. "Try not to buy the town while I'm gone."
"No promises," she said.
He didn't know if she was joking.
•॥•॥•॥•॥•
The Guild office smelled like parchment, ink, and faint disappointment. Arden walked up to the counter, where a sleepy-looking receptionist blinked up at him.
"Oh. Sir Arden," she said, sitting up straighter. "Didn't expect you back so soon."
"Job's done. Wyvern's dead."
She fumbled for the paperwork. "Already? It's only been three hours."
"Should've taken one," he muttered. "I stopped to eat."
The receptionist handed over his reward—standard gold pouch, stamped with the Guild seal—and slid a ledger across for him to sign.
"Also," Arden added reluctantly, "I'll be registering a temporary party member."
The receptionist blinked. "Someone's joining you?"
"Don't sound so shocked."
"Sorry. It's just… You usually work alone."
"She's persistent."
"Oh?" Her eyes lit up. "Is she cute?"
Arden paused. "...Yes. But she's also the reason I had to rent an extra room, three stables, and possibly build a second floor on the inn."
"Sounds noble."
"Exactly."
He filled out the form, listing Elenora's name, rank, and affiliation. The receptionist gave a low whistle.
"She's a Frostmarch duchess? You sure this isn't an arranged marriage?"
"Nope. Voluntary madness."
"Well," the receptionist said, stamping the paperwork, "good luck. You'll need it."
Arden sighed and headed back outside.
He found Elenora standing in the middle of the inn's front garden, arms crossed as she watched the attendants try to maneuver the trunks through the too-narrow front door.
"You could help, you know," Arden called out.
"I am helping," she said calmly. "I'm supervising."
"Not what that word means."
One of the attendants dropped a trunk on his foot and whimpered. Arden winced.
"...Fine. Come with me."
Elenora tilted her head. "Where to?"
"To buy traveling gear. For real traveling. One bag. No trunks."
She looked horrified. "Absolutely not."
"You agreed to travel with me. My way. That means living light."
"I cannot survive on a single bag."
"You'll live. Barely."
•॥•॥•॥•॥•
The general store in Ferndale was modest. Shelves lined with practical supplies—rope, potions, travel cloaks, dried rations. The kind of place Arden liked.
Elenora walked in and immediately wrinkled her nose.
"It smells like… hay."
"That's the smell of adventure."
"No, it's the smell of livestock."
Arden grabbed a standard backpack off the wall and handed it to her. "This is your new home."
She stared at it like it was a rat.
"It's ugly."
"It's practical."
"There's no cushioning."
"That's what your backside is for."
Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"I said it builds character."
Elenora looked personally offended, but she took the bag with her usual noble dignity. He was almost proud of her—until she immediately stuffed it with silk gloves, enchanted combs, and three bottles of perfume.
Arden stared. "That's not survival gear."
"I feel more alive when I smell good."
He covered his face. "Goddess help me."
They left the store thirty minutes later—Arden carrying a sensible bag of rations and tools, Elenora lugging a suspiciously heavy backpack that jingled every time she moved.
As they passed a group of giggling children, one of them pointed at Elenora and whispered, "Is she the princess lady?"
"More like a snowstorm in heels," Arden muttered.
"I heard that," she said sweetly.
•॥•॥•॥•॥•
That night, they camped just outside town, under the stars.
Arden started a fire with practiced ease. He laid out a simple bedroll, sat down, and leaned back with a sigh.
Elenora, meanwhile, was still fussing with a small pop-up enchanted tent that she insisted on bringing. It shimmered faintly with frost magic and took up more space than two horse carts.
When it finally activated with a soft whoosh, Arden stared.
"That's not camping."
"It's elegant survival."
"It has silk curtains."
She poked her head out. "Would you prefer I sleep beside you on the dirt?"
Arden opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at the fire.
No good answer to that.
A moment passed. Then her voice softened.
"…You could come inside, if you like. The enchantments keep it warm."
He looked up in surprise. She wasn't teasing—just offering. Her silver eyes reflected the firelight, softening their usual chill.
Arden blinked. "Are you flirting with me?"
"No," she said flatly. "I'm offering you warmth. Your bedroll looks terrible."
He gave a tired laugh and leaned back. "I'll take the dirt tonight."
Elenora watched him for a second, then disappeared into her tent.
The stars above glittered like a thousand tiny swords.
Arden sighed.
Just twenty-nine more days to go.
To be continued.