The Return Trip

Lian was trying very hard not to walk behind Mira. He also didn’t want to walk in front of her. That left next to her—but only if he left a perfectly polite amount of space between them. Enough to say I trust you, sort of, but please don’t disintegrate me with your magic murder-orb.

He realized he was thinking too much about it when he almost tripped over a tree root.

Mira said nothing. Just glanced sideways, then looked back down the road.

The cart creaked along behind them. The driver, now incredibly respectful, hadn’t spoken a word since the bandit incident. He just sat on his seat, gently clucking at the horse and occasionally glancing nervously at Mira’s bag, like it might come alive and bite him.

Lian cleared his throat.

“So… your orb. Does it always do that?”

Mira blinked. “What?”

“Cut trees in half.”

She shook her head. “Only when it needs to.”

That didn’t exactly comfort him. “And… how does it know when it needs to?”

“It listens.”

Lian paused. “It listens?”

She nodded.

“To you?”

“To everything.”

He did a quick mental calculation of all the things he had said aloud in the past two hours. Most were complaints about his feet and how sweaty he was. Nothing treasonous. Probably.

He glanced at her bag. It was closed. Quiet.

“So… does it… like me?”

Mira tilted her head. “You want it to like you?”

“I just don’t want it to vaporize me in my sleep.”

“It doesn’t vaporize.”

“Ah,” Lian said. “That’s good.”

“Usually it just melts things.”

His face paled.

Mira blinked, then—after a beat—added, “That was a joke.”

Lian stared at her.

“…Oh.”

She looked down. “I’m still working on jokes.”

“No no, it was good. Scary, but good. Very dry. Effective.”

They walked in silence for a while. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

“…You’re scared of me,” Mira said, without looking at him.

Lian’s foot caught another root. He stumbled, caught himself, and immediately put on the most casual smile he could manage.

“What? Scared? No. No no no. Not at all. I love giant floating orbs that fire death lasers. Love ‘em. Big fan.”

She finally turned her head toward him. “You’re funny when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous. I’m just… processing.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You were less nervous when there were bandits.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve fought humans before. In my dreams. Your orb is a bit out of my element.”

She looked back toward the path, but he caught the small smirk tugging at her lips.

They reached the village of Morten by late afternoon. It wasn’t much—just a cluster of crooked houses and a windmill that looked like it had been spinning since before civilization. The villagers eyed them with suspicion until they saw the cargo cart.

Then came the smiles.

Children ran to greet the driver. Adults called out cheerful thanks. One older man gave Lian a firm clap on the shoulder, which nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“Thought you’d be bandit food,” the man laughed. “Good work!”

Lian forced a grin. “Happy to disappoint.”

Mira stood quietly nearby, letting the cart driver handle the formalities. She didn’t like being the center of attention, and Lian didn’t blame her. Especially with that reputation.

After a short while, the driver handed each of them a small pouch.

Lian opened his to find five shiny silver coins. Real money. His first honest reward.

He looked over at Mira, who was already tucking hers into her bag.

He smiled, genuinely this time. “We did it.”

She nodded. “We did.”

There was a moment where neither of them moved. The windmill creaked in the distance. A child laughed somewhere behind them. Mira looked at him, serious again.

“You really don’t need to be scared.”

Lian scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know.”

“Orbs don’t bite.”

“I was never scared of the orb.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay, I was, but not anymore. Much.”

Mira took a breath and looked away, then muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, “You should be more scared of me.”

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

She was already walking ahead.

“…That was a joke again, wasn’t it?”

She didn’t answer.

The return trip was uneventful. No bandits. No beasts. Just two rookie adventurers walking side by side in the quiet stretch of road between two small towns, their shadows growing longer with the fading sun.

Lian noticed Mira occasionally kicking small stones off the path. Not hard, just absent-mindedly. Like she was thinking. Or nervous. It was weirdly humanizing.

“You know,” he said, “you’re not as scary as you think.”

“I never said I was scary.”

“No, but people think you are. I think you just need a better publicist.”

She glanced at him. “What’s that?”

“Someone who tells everyone how great you are.”

She looked away again, this time too fast. Maybe to hide the faint blush rising to her cheeks.

“…Would you do it?” she asked quietly.

Lian smirked. “Sure. For a small fee.”

She rolled her eyes.

He took that as progress.

By the time they reached the city gates, the moon was rising. The outer guards gave them a nod. The city smelled of smoke and baked bread, and Lian realized he’d missed it more than he expected.

“We should report in,” Mira said.

“Yeah,” Lian nodded. “Then maybe… get something to eat?”

She blinked.

“…Together?”

“Well, I mean, you could eat alone in silence like a mysterious warlock, but I thought maybe you’d enjoy some awkward conversation and bad soup with a new friend.”

She looked at him for a long time. Then, softly:

“…Okay.”