Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Lysander swallowed hard, his chest heaving under his tunic as he pointed a trembling finger at the cart. "Where... where did... they..." He remembered her rule and bit his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut to regain his aristocratic composure. "The herbs... are they gone?"

"Nope, look!" Ingrid waved her hand again. The giant pile of glowing lotus stalks reappeared in the cart, then she waved her hand again, and they vanished back into her System Space, leaving just the twenty decoy stalks.

"See?" Ingrid beamed, dusting off her hands proudly. "It’s a storage pocket that I came across! Now we only roll into town with twenty stalks. It’s enough to make us look like lucky, skilled gatherers, but not enough to get us ambushed by an army of bandits!"

Lysander stared at her for a long, silent moment. He slowly rubbed his temples through his veil, letting out a breath that sounded like he was aging ten years in ten seconds. "The gods... certainly gave you a very convenient pocket," he muttered weakly.

"Right?" Ingrid giggled.

Lysander looked like he wanted to say something else but he eventually chose not to. He just sighed, shook his head and grabbed the handles of the cart, ready to drag it back toward the main trail. He looked over at Ingrid, gesturing toward the empty wooden space inside the wagon. "Get in. I’ll haul you back to the main road."

Ingrid looked at the cart, then down at her legs. For a moment, she wanted to just do as Lysander said but to be honest, Ingrid was a gym rat. She loved to workout so even though she had a magical pill that can actually restore her body back, she still wanted to build some stamina. It wouldn’t hurt to exercise a bit.

"No, no need." Ingrid declared, pumping her fists. "I’m walking along with you. How far can the market be?" She shrugged, beaming at Lysander. She was really in a good mood.

Lysander raised an eyebrow in surprise, but a small, approving gleam flashed in his purple eyes. "Suit yourself, blessed messenger."

A few hours later, the dense, shadowy trees of the Whispering Ravine finally gave way to wide roads. They didn’t even meet anyone on the way but Lysander had insisted on covering the herbs with some kind of clothing so no one would see what they had to try to steal from them.

The bustling noise of the Beastmen Central Market echoed everywhere. Laughter, shouting merchants, the clinking of metal, and the heavy scents of roasted meat and strange spices filled the warm afternoon air. Beastmen of all shapes and sizes walked around. Ingrid even saw a small snake the size of her index finger talking to someone! 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

She blinked in awe before turning back to face Lysander, "Where are we going to stay? We don’t have to pay money to rent a stall here, right?"

"No. It’s free, however, at the end of each market sale, you have to give around 2 percent of your earnings to the owner of the market. That’s how he makes his profit." Lysander looked around, seeing an empty space and he pointed at it, "Come on, let’s go there."

Ingrid nodded and followed him, but when Lysander stopped and she practically almost slammed her nose against his back, she frowned. He was looking at something.

"Lysander? What are you looking at? You stopped so suddenly and I... Oh fuck."

Standing right near the space they were going to, leaning casually against a stone pillar while tossing a shiny gold coin in the air, were two familiar figures.

Falcon and Hawk.

Falcon’s sharp hawk wings were folded lazily against his back, his arrogant face twisting into a sneer as he caught sight of the cart and beside him stood Hawk. They had seen both of them as well.

Ingrid’s mood instantly plunged into the gutter. ’Seriously?’ Ingrid groaned internally, rolling her eyes so hard it physically hurt. ’Do I really have to deal with these two bird-brained idiots first thing in the morning?!’

"Can’t we just turn around and go literally anywhere else?" Ingrid muttered through gritted teeth, her eyes glued to the two winged bird-brains by the market square entrance.

"Lysander, I’m serious. Reverse the cart. Execute a three-point turn. I am suddenly struck by a powerful, spiritual urge to walk five miles in the opposite direction."

"It is a public market, Ingrid," Lysander replied smoothly, his tall frame towering over her as his glowing purple eyes remained completely calm behind his veil. "We have rare herbs to sell. Why should we retreat?"

"Because if I have to look at Falcon’s ugly face before I’ve even had lunch, I might actually vomit!" Ingrid hissed, attempting to duck behind Lysander’s broad back.

It was too late. Falcon’s sharp, predatory eyes snapped right toward them. His gaze traveled from the rickety cart to Ingrid’s flushed face, and a nasty, triumphant sneer spread across his features. He nudged his father, Hawk, pointing right at them with a feathered wing.

"Well, well, well! Look what the trash carried into town!" Hawk boomed, his voice echoing as he sauntered over with his arms crossed. "What is a useless fat lump like you doing at the Central Market, Ingrid? Did you get lost looking for the trough?"

Falcon’s face was dark, "She obviously stalked me all the way from the tribe!" He said, puffing his chest out like a peacock and not the bird he was. "Ingrid, I told you many times that you don’t have to stalk me. I’ll never accept you, especially not after what you did to me back there." The last sentence came out as a hiss.

Ingrid stared at Falcon as she blinked. For a second, Falcon flinched when her eyes landed on him, then her gaze dropped to his right arm, where the faint, fading greenish-purple outline of her previous beatdown was still visible under his feathers.

’Damn, I really was heavy-handed,’ she thought briefly, before her brain reprocessed his words.

"Wait... Did you just say I was stalking you? Me? Stalking you? Did those blows turn you into a dumb bird or did one of those zombies eat your brain and leave you your body as a shell? Maybe that’s why you can’t think straight?"