Harem System In A fantasy World - Chapter 333: Travelling III
Alexander turned back around, completely ignoring him. Elion chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he looked ahead again.
For a while after that, the group’s mood loosened just a little.
The five retainers were still wary of Elion, but their earlier stiff fear had softened into something closer to cautious curiosity. Every now and then, one of them would sneak a glance at him, only to look away the moment he so much as turned his head.
It was like travelling with a flock of nervous birds, except they were supposed to be young noble warriors trained to serve the crown prince.
Elion found it strangely amusing; he had hoped they would loosen up a bit more.
“So,” he eventually said, slowing his mount enough to drift back toward them again.
All five retainers stiffened at once.
Elion sighed.
“You know, reacting like that makes me want to bully you more.” They tried to relax since he had prompted them to, but the result was worse.
One of them slouched so awkwardly he looked like his spine had melted. Another forced a smile that made him appear more constipated than friendly. Peter simply stared straight ahead with the intensity of a man pretending to be dead in front of a hungry beast.
Elion blinked.
“…Never mind. Go back to being scared. This is painful to watch.”
The retainers deflated. Alexander coughed into his fist. Elion looked at the nearest one, a lanky young man with brown hair and a long, narrow face.
“You. What’s your name again?”
The young man flinched.
“Gareth, Sir Elion.”
“Right. The book reader.”
Gareth’s face went pale.
“I have never read anything treasonous.”
“I didn’t ask that.”
“I also have never read anything involving kings, princes, heroes, or inappropriate courtship scenarios.”
Elion’s brows rose.
“You just made yourself sound more guilty.”
Gareth opened his mouth, and he awkwardly looked toward Alexander for help, but Alexander gave him none.
Elion laughed softly.
“Relax. I’m not asking about your weird reading habits.”
“They are not weird,” Gareth muttered before catching himself. “I mean, yes, Sir Elion.”
Elion tilted his head.
“What I was going to ask is simple. What do you five actually do for Alexander?”
That visibly helped smooth things quite a bit. The retainers look at one another with a little more confidence.
Peter sat up, perhaps eager to redeem himself after being publicly accused of possessing cheap soup blood.
“We are the prince’s personal retainers,” he said, sounding far more serious now. “Our duties vary depending on circumstance. Escort, communication, coordination with checkpoint commanders, battlefield support if needed, and handling small matters His Highness should not have to personally waste time on.”
Elion nodded.
“So glorified errand boys.”
Peter’s serious expression cracked, “N-no, not exactly.”
Alexander sighed, “They are more useful than they look.”
“That’s not hard,” Elion said.
The retainers all looked wounded.
Alexander ignored their pain and continued, “Most of them come from noble houses that have served the crown for generations. Their training is not bad, and each of them has a specialty.”
“Oh?”
Elion glanced back at them.
Peter raised a hand weakly.
“I handle supplies and field planning.”
“The soup blood makes sense then.”
Peter lowered his hand in despair.
Gareth cleared his throat.
“I handle intelligence reports and written communication.”
“The books make sense then.”
Gareth looked like he had expected that and accepted his fate silently. Another retainer, the shortest of the group with sharp eyes and dark curly hair, spoke next.
“Darin. Scouting and terrain observation.”
Elion nodded lightly.
“That’s useful.”
Darin blinked, almost shocked to receive a normal response.
The fourth, a broad-shouldered youth with a square jaw, thumped his fist against his chest.
“Lukas. Frontline defence.”
Elion looked him over.
“You look like you enjoy getting hit.”
Lukas smiled proudly, “I can take a beating.”
“Good. I’ll remember that.”
His smile vanished.
The last retainer, a quiet blond youth who had barely spoken since they left Haven, gave a small bow from his mount.
“Erian. Healing and support magic.”
Elion’s eyes shifted toward him.
“A healer?”
“Minor healing,” Erian corrected quickly. “I’m not comparable to palace healers or battlefield priests, but I can close wounds well enough.”
“Useful, ” Elion said with a nod.
For some reason, hearing him say that made all five retainers straighten slightly, as if they had just received praise from a cruel examiner who rarely acknowledged anyone.
Alexander noticed, and his expression twisted, “You praise them once, and they look happier than when I commend them.”
Elion smiled.
“That’s because your praise is expected. Mine feels earned.”
Alexander stared at him, “…You are insufferable as usual.”
“And yet you keep me around.”
“Against my will.”
“Well, you are the one who sent someone to my room this morning.”
“Because we were leaving!”
“You missed me.”
“I did not!”
The retainers began snickering again.
Alexander’s head snapped toward them, and they immediately became as still as statues. Elion laughed, and the sound carried into the open sky, swallowed partly by the wind.
For a time, the journey became a little bit easier.
The tension that had wrapped around the group after leaving Haven slowly faded, replaced by occasional conversation and the steady rhythm of wings beating through the air.
Beneath them, the world stretched wide and open, forests rolling like dark green waves over the hills, rivers flashing silver wherever sunlight touched them, and small roads winding between distant settlements like thin brown threads.
By midday, they descended near the first checkpoint.
It was built atop a wide hill overlooking the main road, a fortified stone outpost with watchtowers, messenger birds, and rows of soldiers moving between tents. The moment Alexander’s winged serpent circled overhead, the camp below stirred instantly.
Men and women pointed upward. Horns sounded once. By the time the mounts landed, a small group of officers was already gathered to receive them.
Alexander’s posture changed the moment his feet touched the ground.
The joking boy vanished; in his place stood the crown prince, straight-backed, calm, and bearing a commanding presence about him.
Elion watched the change in his posture with mild interest as Alexander walked forward, his silver armour catching the sun. The officers bowed, and Alexander acknowledged them with a simple nod, already asking for reports before anyone could waste time on long greetings.
“Supply routes?”
“Stable, Your Highness.”
“Demon movements, has another group managed to surprise us by appearing out of nowhere?”
“None within the last two days, but scouts report increased movement farther north.”
“Casualties from last week’s reinforcements?”
“Manageable, Your Highness. Fewer than projected.”
Alexander nodded, absorbing everything quickly.
Elion stood a short distance away, hands in his pockets, half-listening while pretending not to.
’He really is different when doing this kind of thing,’ Elion thought.
It was not the first time he had seen Alexander act like a proper prince, but it was still strange each time. One moment, he was a brat begging for mercy; the next, he was calmly handling military reports with the weight of the crown on his shoulders.
Maybe that was what royalty really meant, not luxury or pride, but learning how to split yourself into different masks and wear whichever one the moment demanded. It briefly reminded him of a certain someone, but he quickly chased the thought away before it could fully form.
Elion’s thoughts were interrupted when Peter walked up beside him, clutching a small bundle of travel rations.
“Sir Elion,” he said carefully.
Elion looked at him.
Peter stiffened, then held out the bundle.
“Food.”
Elion took it.
Then paused.
“You poisoned it?”
Peter’s soul nearly left his body.
“No!”
“Relax.”
Elion opened the bundle and took out a piece of dried meat. Peter looked like he had aged five years in three seconds.
Elion chewed quietly.
“Not bad.”
Peter blinked.
“…Really?”
“It tastes better than fear and cheap soup.”
Peter closed his eyes in pain. From a few steps away, Gareth choked on a laugh and pretended to cough.
