Chapter 104: Toward the Ice Wall (1)
We were in a carriage heading straight for the freezing North, and I was slowly coming to terms with the terrifying reality that I was the only responsible adult in a moving box full of lethal weapons, existential knights, and magical anomalies.
Weiss had enchanted the heavy wooden wheels of the carriage to roll over the rugged, snow-dusted terrain without the need for horses. It was an incredibly smooth ride, a feat of magic that probably defied several laws of physics. But as we ventured further away from the central territories and into the untamed northern wilds, the temperature inside the cabin was dropping by the hour.
I sat on the plush padded bench next to Weiss. Reaching into one of my many spatially expanded pockets, I pulled out a thick, ridiculously fluffy woolen scarf that I had specifically knitted—yes, knitted, I have many talents—for this exact trip. I leaned over and began wrapping it tightly around her neck, looping it three times until she looked like a deeply disgruntled turtle.
"Lift your chin," I instructed her, adjusting the fabric. "You are going to freeze to death out there, and I am absolutely not doing the administrative paperwork for a dead Witch Queen. The inheritance taxes alone would destroy my peace of mind."
"It is too tight," Weiss grumbled, her voice slightly muffled by the massive layers of wool. She tried to swat my hands away, but she severely lacked the physical upper-body strength to actually stop me. "You are suffocating me, Phantom. This is an assassination attempt. You are trying to take the throne."
"I am insulating you," I corrected her gently, slapping a warm, heavily insulated flask of hot tea into her gloved hands. "Drink your tea. Do not use fire magic to warm up your toes, or you will burn the carriage down again. Drink."
She took the flask with a miserable, heavy sigh and leaned her head completely against my shoulder. She was arguably the most powerful mage on the continent, a woman who could level mountains and alter the fabric of reality, but she could not dress herself for the weather to save her life. Managing her diet, her sleep schedule, and her winter wardrobe was a very demanding, full-time job. I was essentially a stay-at-home husband whose wife occasionally threatened to disintegrate people.
Across from us sat Nea and Keith. Nea was watching us with a small, amused smile, her charming silver eyes completely relaxed. She was used to our dynamic by now, having seen firsthand that the feared Lord Phantom was basically just a tired caretaker.
Keith, on the other hand, was sitting ramrod straight. He was gripping the armrests of his seat so hard his knuckles were white, looking slightly terrified of the fact that the carriage was moving by itself without a driver.
Next to Keith sat Livia. The platinum-blonde witch was staring entirely blankly at the wooden grain of the carriage wall. She had not blinked in at least five minutes. I was starting to wonder if she slept with her eyes open.
"Alright," I said, clapping my hands together once to break the silence. "It is going to be a very long trip to the Ice Wall. The tension in here is so thick I could cut it with a sword. We need to boost the morale in this box before Keith gives himself a stress ulcer and dies of a heart attack."
I reached into my inner coat pocket and pulled out a small, beautifully carved wooden box and a long wooden pipe.
I popped the intricate brass latch on the box. Inside was a tightly packed batch of green, slightly glowing herbs. I had cultivated this specific strain back in the Grim Palace garden with the direct, highly enthusiastic help of the Ents. Tree magic worked absolute wonders on agriculture. It was a very special, very potent strain of magical weed that smelled vaguely of pine needles and starlight.
Weiss perked up immediately. Her nose twitched like a bloodhound catching a scent. She completely ignored her hot tea flask, tossing it carelessly into my lap, and reached out with both hands.
"Finally," Weiss muttered, her tired eyes lighting up with genuine joy. "Hand it over, butler."
"Patience," I told her, packing the pipe expertly. I lit it with a tiny, localized spark of fire magic from my fingertip. I took a deep drag first, just to make sure it was burning right and hadn’t been overly cursed by the soil. The sweet, earthy smoke filled my lungs, and a warm, fuzzy blanket of absolute calm immediately washed over my brain. I exhaled a thick cloud and passed it to Weiss.
She took a massive hit, holding it in for an incredibly long time before exhaling a plume of smoke that immediately filled the top half of the carriage. She slumped back against my shoulder, the stiff tension completely leaving her posture.
I offered the pipe across the carriage to the other bench.
"Do knights partake?" I asked smoothly.
Nea looked at the pipe. Then she looked at the glowing green herbs in the box. Then she looked at Keith.
Keith looked completely horrified, as if I had just offered him a live, rabid goblin to hold.
"Sir Phantom," Keith stammered, his eyes wide with sheer panic. "Is that... is that the Devil’s Cabbage? The Forbidden Leaf? The Imperial Knight Codex strictly forbids the consumption of mind-altering vegetation while on active duty!"
"Keith, we are technically committing high treason just by travelling North to investigate the Emperor’s secret operations," I pointed out. "I think the Imperial Knight Codex is more of a light suggestion at this point. Plus, it’s medicinal. It helps with the freezing temperatures."
Nea let out a small, unladylike snort. She reached across the small gap and took the pipe directly from my hand. Our fingers brushed, and she gave me a subtle, knowing wink.
"I have nearly died three times in the last month," Nea said, looking at the smoking pipe. "I fought a giant turtle, and I am currently riding in a ghost carriage. If the Witch Queen is doing it, I think I can bend a rule."
She took a tentative drag. She coughed lightly, her cheeks flushing a deep red, but then she adjusted and took a much deeper one. A slow, deeply relaxed smile spread across her face. Her rigid, perfect knightly posture completely melted away, and she sank back into the padded leather seat, her shoulders dropping three inches.
She passed it to Keith.
"Vice Captain!" Keith gasped, feeling utterly betrayed by his commanding officer.
"Just hit it, Keith," Nea mumbled, her eyes already half-closed and glazed over. "That is a direct order from your superior officer."
Keith whimpered softly, taking the pipe like it was a loaded crossbow aimed at his face. He took a tiny, pathetic puff, coughed violently for a solid ten seconds, and quickly handed it off to Livia to escape the peer pressure.
Livia took the pipe with both hands. Her blank, doll-like expression did not change for a single second. She inhaled deeply, held it without even flinching, and exhaled a perfect, unbroken ring of smoke. The ring floated to the center of the carriage, and then, miraculously, reshaped itself into a tiny, flying pelican that flapped its smoke-wings twice before dissipating into the haze.
"Show off," I muttered, taking the pipe back to start round two.
Thirty minutes later, the entire carriage was completely hotboxed. The air was thick, sweet, and incredibly hazy. You could barely see from one side of the cabin to the other, and the temperature had stopped bothering anyone.
The magical weed had done its job far too well for the uninitiated.
Keith was the first to break the heavy silence. He was holding both of his armored hands up right in front of his face, staring at his steel gauntlets with absolute, terrifying intensity.
"Guys," Keith whispered. His voice was completely dreamy and laced with a profound, quiet panic. "Guys, I think my hands are trapped in metal prisons. They can’t breathe in there."
"They are gauntlets, Keith," I said calmly, leaning my head back against the seat and staring at the ceiling. "You put them on this morning."
"But what if they aren’t?" Keith asked, his eyes wide and unblinking. "What if we are the gauntlets, and the hands are just driving us around? What if I’m just a giant metal suit being piloted by a tiny, fleshy skeleton?"
"That is the deepest thing I have ever heard," Livia stated softly. She was currently leaning forward, her face mere inches from the wall, staring at a knot in the wood grain. "Do you hear it? The wood is singing. It remembers being a tree. It misses the squirrels. I should write an apology letter to the forest."
I closed my eyes and sighed. It was going to be a very, very long ride.