Chapter 87: A Suspicious Caravan
Veronica returned to the wagon after a few minutes of conversation with her father, Santos. She hadn’t overheard Flora and Leona’s discussion and was unaware that Flora recognized the pendant around her neck. It was none other than the Fountain’s Draw, a moonstone pendant Flora had worn during her time as a Saint. It was originally an ordinary ornament, meant to complement her pale dresses, with no special properties. But the person who wore it was Flora.
Those who heard tales of Flora’s deeds might dismiss them as exaggerated legends, but Flora herself would confirm their truth.
Flora, the girl blessed and favored by the gods, could not only wield various Divine Arts effortlessly, amplifying their effects, but also possessed an aura of inherent miracles.
If you were a woman suffering from chronic rhinitis and happened to be close to Flora, she might allow you to smell her hair. Weekly sessions for a month would completely cure your ailment. Of course, if you were a man hoping to catch a whiff of the Saint’s fragrance, the Church might send Holy Knights to break your nose, ensuring your rhinitis would never be cured.
If you had an eye disease, such as trachoma or conjunctivitis, and happened to attend one of the Saint’s speeches, simply gazing at her throughout the event and getting a good night’s sleep afterward would miraculously heal your eyes.
The Saint’s singing voice could dispel nightmares and lull insomniacs to sleep. Her gaze could ward off fear and embolden cowardly warriors. These might sound like exaggerated praises from a lovestruck youth, but they were all true, without a hint of exaggeration.
If merely seeing, hearing, or smelling her could bring about effects comparable to Divine Arts, it was no surprise that the objects she wore would be imbued with a portion of her miraculous aura.
Similar to a mage enchanting an object, items worn by Flora would naturally acquire random Divine Arts effects. The Fountain’s Draw had been imbued with the powers of soothing and healing. Wearing it was equivalent to having a Divine Arts user constantly praying for you, accelerating your healing and making you less susceptible to negative emotions like fear and anger.
Now, Flora was trying to understand why her pendant was in another girl’s possession. Based on her intuition, Veronica didn’t seem like a bad person. Those who engaged in theft or robbery inevitably developed a certain sinister aura, perhaps imperceptible to most, but Flora was sensitive to it.
Perhaps she had bought it from grave robbers, or maybe someone had gifted it to her, Flora thought, feeling a pang of unease.
The thought of her body being desecrated by grave robbers disturbed her deeply. In her mind, no man other than Abyss had the right to touch her. Only Abyss had rescued her from fear, only Abyss trusted her completely… and only Abyss possessed such clear eyes and pure thoughts.
She glanced at Abyss, sleeping peacefully on her lap, a faint smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying the makeshift pillow.
Leona had wanted to ask Veronica about the pendant’s origin, but Flora had objected. She didn’t want to reveal her identity and cause trouble for Abyss, even though the entire Church was probably no match for him. However, both Leona and Flora had learned during their travels that Abyss hated chaos.
They had been traveling for half a day. Dawn had broken, and Veronica, who had treated them to dinner and provided them with a place to rest the previous night, had been chatting with Leona and Flora. She was a talkative and well-spoken woman, her insights on various matters quite interesting. Her friendly demeanor even made Leona consider befriending her—after learning her true identity, of course.
“Veronica, why haven’t we encountered any bandits during our journey?” Leona asked, testing the waters.
“I hired over thirty mercenaries, and everyone in our caravan is riding a horse. Ordinary bandits wouldn’t target us,” Veronica replied immediately. “Don’t worry about that. Our mercenaries aren’t weak either. They can handle any bandits.”
“Your mercenaries do seem different from the usual ones… They seem very disciplined. Shouldn’t ordinary mercenaries be drinking and playing games in the back by now?”
Veronica looked at Leona, puzzled by her sudden interest in their mercenaries, but her expression remained calm. “Oh, you’re right. These mercenaries belong to the same company. We hired them specifically because of their discipline and training.”
Veronica’s answer was flawless, leaving Leona slightly disappointed. She couldn’t tell if her questioning wasn’t subtle enough or if Veronica was simply well-prepared.
As the wagon continued its journey, the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the curtains gradually dimmed. It wasn’t because the sky was darkening, but because they were entering a valley. The road was flanked by high ground, the dense vegetation blocking most of the sunlight.
Leona peeked out the window, observing the terrain, then sat back down with a chuckle. “Hehe.”
“What are you laughing at, Leona?” Flora asked curiously.
“I’m laughing at those bandits who don’t know how to utilize terrain for ambushes,” Leona said smugly. “This terrain is perfect. If I were a bandit leader, I’d set up an ambush here, blocking the road and positioning archers on both sides. No caravan could escape.”
“I heard those Ossi bandits don’t kill indiscriminately. We don’t need to worry,” Veronica said.
The wagon continued for a while, then suddenly stopped.
The mercenary who had been scouting ahead rode back and reported to Santos and Veronica, “Sir, the road is blocked by boulders that rolled down from the mountain. We need to clear them before we can proceed.”
“Alright, take a few strong men and try to move them. Here’s a potion. If it’s too difficult, use it to blast the rocks,” Santos said, handing the mercenary a vial.
“Yes, sir…”
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Leona’s sharp ears suddenly picked up a strange sound—the whistling of arrows piercing the air.
“Get down! Ambush!”
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