Chapter 48: Unsettled Waves

The coachman turned his head and whispered a plea, "Honorable Mage, I think it would be safer for us to stay with those merchants. There are too many bandits."

"You don't need to offer your opinion on this matter. Stopping here isn't dangerous in the slightest. Look! A merchant caravan is heading towards them." Shaoke carefully observed the situation ahead, weighing his options. The female mage gently reached out and grabbed his arm. Shaoke turned his head and smiled, "Francis, you should go inside first. The wind is strong out here."

The female mage shook her head, turning to stare at the bandits ahead for a moment. "No, Mage Xueye, I don't mind at all. I think these bandits look like regular soldiers. What do you think?"

Shaoke was about to answer when the coachman, who had been cautiously watching the front, cried out in alarm, his voice rising, "Honorable Mage, Honorable Mage! Oh no! That... a cavalryman is coming over. Heavens! He's heading in our direction. No, I'll be cut in half!" The coachman dropped the reins, trembling hands clutching his head as he crouched on the driver's seat, not daring to move.

"Shut up, or I'll take back the silver coins I just gave you. Hold the reins tight, unless you want this carriage to run straight into the bandits' camp by itself."

The coachman hurriedly picked up the dropped reins, staring fearfully at the approaching cavalryman, ready to drive the carriage away at any moment.

Shaoke barely glanced at the galloping cavalryman before turning his gaze back to the merchant caravan heading towards the bandit group. They were too far away to hear or see clearly what was being said, but the merchant who stepped forward to speak with one of the soldiers handed over a small pouch, which the soldier casually tossed into a leather pouch on his horse. Then, the soldier led the caravan past the edge of the bandit formation, appearing quite safe.

Just as Shaoke intended to keep watching, the cavalryman arrived. The rider coldly assessed the small convoy and casually waved his steel blade. "Have your leader come out. I need to speak with him."

The coachman cautiously glanced back at the two mages inside the carriage, then looked at the gleaming steel blade of the other man, quickly lowering his head without a word.

Shaoke refused the female mage's request to come out with him. He then stepped out and stood on the footboard in front of the carriage, carefully examining the soldiers before him: The rider didn't look old, perhaps in his twenties or thirties. He wore a half-length leather armor studded with copper rivets, held a four-foot-long long-handled steel blade, and had a large bow hanging from a leather pouch at his side. This cavalryman looked quite spirited.

Seeing a cloaked figure emerge from the carriage, the cavalryman carefully looked him over, showing some surprise and panic. "Honorable Mage, I didn't realize this was your carriage. Please don't mind my rudeness."

Shaoke twirled his staff in his hand. "Although I am quite annoyed by your discourtesy, I suppose it is part of your duty. Go ask your leader if we can leave with those departing merchants. We don't wish to get involved in your affairs. I believe you certainly aren't here for me."

The knight seemed somewhat taken aback. "As you command, Honorable Mage. I will go ask our... leader's opinion immediately. Please wait a moment." After hurriedly performing a salute from horseback, he turned his horse around and galloped back the way he came.

After sending the cavalryman away, Shaoke reassured the coachman, "See! These bandits are quite polite. At least for now, they won't be waving their steel blades at us."

The coachman nodded, cautiously observing the area where the bandits were gathered, thinking to himself, "That's only because they're polite to you mages. If it weren't for the mages, I'm sure they'd be holding a blade to your neck while talking. Oh, damn these bandits! Why hasn't anyone come to clear them out?"

Shaoke returned inside the carriage and gently patted Francis's shoulder, then took her hand. "Francis, don't worry. I suspect these so-called bandits aren't really after loot, but rather killing. We just don't know who their target is. We're just unlucky to have run into them."

Francis rolled her eyes helplessly at Shaoke's persistent habit of taking liberties. "Mage Xueye, how do you know they aren't real bandits? Even if they are all cavalry and their formation is quite orderly, that doesn't prove they aren't bandits!" She tried several times to pull her hand back, but failing, she reluctantly let him hold it.

Seeing she had stopped resisting, Shaoke smiled. "Francis, when that cavalryman approached just now, I sensed the aura common among soldiers who have spent long periods in the army. Perhaps because you didn't see him directly, otherwise you might have recognized their true identity too."

Just as the two were conversing harmoniously, the coachman outside interrupted Shaoke's pleasant moment again. "Honorable Mage, a mercenary has come over. He wishes to speak with you. Oh! He's from that merchant caravan."

Shaoke and Francis exchanged a glance. Just as they were about to go out and speak, the mercenary outside spoke up. "Hello, excuse me. Could you come out to discuss something?"

Through the curtain, Shaoke immediately recognized the voice of one of the mercenaries who had come to the inn that day intending to recruit them. He hadn't expected to encounter the caravan that had made them wait at the city gate here. "Tell your master I will not join. Do not disturb me again."

Hearing the mage's refusal, the waiting mercenary outside flared up. He had already approached several caravans, and each caravan leader had spoken to him quite rudely. Now, facing this small convoy of only three carriages, he was met with contempt again. For a moment, he forgot he was a mercenary, forgot the professional ethics he usually upheld. In a rage, the mercenary yanked the coachman off the carriage, then lifted the curtain, intending to deliver some threatening words to the occupants.

But when the mercenary saw who was inside the carriage, he froze. Hearing the coachman fall outside, Francis had frantically begun chanting a spell, preparing her most proficient spell, "Fireball." Just as the fireball formed, the mercenary pulled back the curtain, appearing before the two mages.

Seeing the head-sized fireball in Francis's right hand, the mercenary paused for a split second before leaping frantically away. He quickly rolled on the ground and began running in a zigzag pattern into the distance. He knew that if he could get a hundred meters away, he would be mostly safe. Unfortunately, he was ultimately a step too slow. Francis's fireball, trailing a long tail of flame, pursued him.

Hearing the whooshing sound behind him, the mercenary channeled his full First Rank aura and swiftly drew the iron shield from his back, cautiously defending. He knew that within this range, he couldn't dodge a spell controlled by a mage's mental power. However, due to his initial flight, his First Rank aura wasn't fully mobilized. Thus, Francis's 'Fireball' struck him solidly. Fortunately, this mercenary had a military background and had seen mages casting spells to kill enemies, so he knew how to minimize damage as much as possible.

The mercenary still managed to block Francis's 'Fireball' with his shield in time, but the powerful force still threw him several meters away. The mercenary struggled a few times in the snow before slowly falling still. Even from Shaoke's distance, he could see the mud-stained snow slowly turning red.

After attacking with the fireball, Francis stared blankly at the spot where the mercenary had landed. The color drained from her face as she tightly gripped her staff, muttering softly, "I was too agitated. I thought he was going to attack us, so..."

Although Shaoke had the chance to stop Francis's action, a hot-headed desire to pay back the insult from when they had toyed with him made him decide not to intervene.

"Francis, it's just a mercenary who came to attack us. There's nothing to worry about. Don't forget, we have almost no close-combat ability right now!" Shaoke wrapped an arm around Francis's slender waist, gently patting her back to comfort her.

Francis quickly pushed him away, tightened her grip on her staff again, and gave him a strange look with her large blue eyes. "Mage Xueye, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it. I think I'll be fine later."

"Francis, it's not that I didn't want to stop you. Think about it. What would happen if I forcibly interrupted your spellcasting? I believe you understand the consequences better than I do now. I couldn't do such a thing." Shaoke forced a bitter smile, finding a suitable excuse. Even so, Shaoke suddenly felt a pang of discomfort at the distance Francis seemed to be putting between them. He rubbed his somewhat constricted chest. "Francis, stay here for now. I'll go out and take a look."

Francis opened her mouth, watching Shaoke's figure step onto the carriage footboard, but ultimately said nothing. However, she carefully took out the magic powder her father had prepared and placed it within easy reach, ready to use it for combat if an emergency arose.

Standing outside, Shaoke softly chanted an incantation, activating the magic array on his robe to conceal his figure. He quickly cast 'Spellcasting Concentration' on himself, a spell that improved casting quality. Then he watched as dozens of members from both the merchant caravan and the bandits, having noticed the spell explosion, approached.

Shaoke felt somewhat nervous now. He didn't know if the mercenaries hired by that caravan, upon discovering their companion's condition, would charge forward and engage him in battle. He also didn't know the intentions of the approaching bandits. If both sides attacked simultaneously, he estimated he would meet his end here. Especially since every one of the fallen mercenary's companions had activated their aura, some even at the Second Rank and Third Rank. A single Second Rank mercenary could finish off a newly promoted formal mage who hadn't yet learned Second-level Spells at close range.

The two groups arrived almost simultaneously. Shaoke quickly grabbed a handful of magic powder and threw it into the air. After chanting a few incantations, he pointed his staff first at the powder floating in the air, then at the path ahead where the two groups were approaching. "Burn, Wall of Fire."

The two groups halted their advance outside the wall of fire formed by the burning magic powder. The two sides quickly faced off against each other, wary of any unexpected developments. Some from the merchant caravan ran towards the snow-covered area now marked by the red zone. Several mercenaries even called out their companion's name.

Shaoke stood quietly on the carriage, his head slightly raised. His staff was casually tucked behind his back. His hands were tucked inside his cloak, tightly gripping the prepared magic powder, intending to use it against enemies if a fight broke out. After all, at such close range, low-level mages like them didn't have sufficient time for proper spellcasting. Thus, he had no choice but to resort to this method. Fortunately, with simple incantations, the magic powder could still unleash some power.

Several mercenaries went to check on their companion who had been struck by the mage. After examining him carefully, they returned angrily, shouting a few curses at the wall of fire, even attempting to go around it to attack the mages. Fortunately, their leader stopped them due to various concerns.

Seizing the opportunity, Francis said, "Mage Xueye, step aside a bit. I'm coming out too. I can't let you face these lowly professionals alone."

Shaoke quietly refused her request. "Francis, don't come out. You can launch a surprise attack from inside, which could cause greater damage."

Francis shook her head slightly and raised her voice. "Mage Xueye, I actually recognized that mercenary's voice. But to vent the humiliation I suffered, I decided to collect some interest from this caravan first. I believe these mercenaries must have recognized us. They know there are two mages here."

Shaoke refused Francis's request again. "If they suddenly launch an attack, I can buy you some time for spellcasting!" With that, he stood firmly outside. He estimated that neither the mercenaries hired by these merchants nor the so-called bandits would attack them, because he had already revealed his identity: a mage belonging to the military department.

The flames from the magic powder gradually dissipated. Both groups knew this was the boundary set by the mage, so they wisely remained outside the line. If they crossed it, according to agreements recorded since the dawn of writing, the mage could attack the trespassers without any responsibility, regardless of their identity—provided, of course, the mage was powerful enough.

Seeing the wall of fire disappear, someone from the merchant caravan stepped forward a few paces. "Mage, why did you attack our mercenary? And this mercenary is already dead."

Shaoke secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Glancing sideways at the young merchant who spoke, he said unhurriedly, "Who are you? Are you qualified to speak with mages?" He then leisurely smoothed his cloak, shrouded in white mist.

The young merchant didn't get angry, smiling slightly instead. "I am the chief manager of a caravan from the Mist Trading Company, overseeing the flow of hundreds of thousands of gold coins. Do you think I'm qualified?" The merchant lightly tapped the badge hanging on his chest and slightly raised his head. "Actually, it's been a long time since I've had to look up at someone."