I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 495 495: [Identity: Warren]

Six days of travel had passed without incident.

The journey from the Kaiser estate toward Lyraʼs shrine followed well-maintained roads through forests and rolling hills, passing through small villages where the carriage stopped briefly for supplies before continuing.

The guards at the helm maintained vigilance, their eyes scanning the treeline for bandits or wild animals that might threaten their charges.

Inside the carriage, an uneasy rhythm had developed.

Rhys spent most of his time staring out the window, watching the countryside pass with the interest of someone whoʼd spent their childhood locked away.

Slyph hovered near his shoulder, her green aura providing soft light when the forest canopy blocked the sun.

Father Caelen maintained his contemplative silence, occasionally offering observations about the religious significance of landmarks they passed, but otherwise content to let the journey unfold without unnecessary conversation.

Lyra sat across from Jack, her bow resting beside her, her expression carrying the peace of someone experiencing freedom for the first time in years.

As the days went by, she became more at ease, and the continuous strain she had felt around Aurelius slowly transformed into a sense of tranquility.

And Jack fought a constant battle with the bracelet.

Each day exacerbated the situation. The heightened allure did not diminish with increased familiarity; instead, it intensified, escalating to a point where even routine interactions became overwhelming.

Lyra shifting position to get comfortable. The way sunlight caught in her braid when she leaned toward the window. That fitted waistband emphasized the curve of her waist.

Jack had taken to sitting with his eyes closed for extended periods, claiming it was meditation, when really he was avoiding looking Lyra directly in the eye.

It helped, but only marginally. The braceletʼs influence permeated everything, turning a simple escort mission into an endurance test of willpower.

”Weʼre approaching Millhaven,” one of the guards called from the helm. ”We should arrive within the hour. Do you want to stop for supplies and rest, my lord?”

Jack opened his eyes, grateful for the distraction. ”Yes. Weʼll stop for a few hours. Restock provisions, let everyone stretch their legs.”

Rhys perked up at the mention of stopping. ”Thank the gods. I love carriages in theory, but six days of sitting is making me understand why Father Caelen meditates so much.”

”Meditation serves many purposes beyond alleviating boredom,” Father Caelen replied mildly. ”Though I wonʼt deny that the journey has been... lengthy.”

Lyra smiled, her expression transforming her features. ”I find the travel quite agreeable. It offers a sense of tranquility. There are no demands placed upon me, no tasks requiring completion... just a peaceful existence.”

The wistfulness in her voice was impossible to miss. Jackʼs jaw tightened as he processed the implications.

That simply existing without being treated as a tool was noteworthy enough to mention said everything about how Aurelius treated his subordinate Chosen.

ʼAurelius, Iʼll deal with you another day. And Lyra will be free to do as she pleases.ʼ

”Youʼll have time at the shrine, and then two weeks to return,” Jack reminded her. ”Complete freedom to pray, to connect with Artemis, to do whatever you need without anyone interfering.”

Lyraʼs eyes showed gratitude that transcended words. ”I know. Thank you, Jack. For everything.”

The bracelet pulsed with warmth at her smile, and Jack forced himself to look away, focusing on the passing landscape as Millhaven came into view.

The town, though modest in size, was remarkably prosperous. Its three hundred inhabitants resided in structures that reflected superior craftsmanship and consistent upkeep.

At the heart of the town, a central square served as a vibrant marketplace where vendors offered a variety of produce, textiles, and essential provisions.

A prominent inn occupied a corner of the square, its distinctive sign featuring a slumbering feline, called The Sleeping Feline.

The carriage stopped near the market square, and the guards began the process of unhitching the horses for rest and water.

Jack stepped out first, his boots hitting cobblestone as he stretched muscles that had grown stiff from days of sitting.

Rhys emerged next, immediately moving through a series of stretches. Slyph had been coaching him on maintaining flexibility during extended travel.

Father Caelen descended with grace, his eyes already tracking toward what looked like a small temple. But then again, there was a bar next to it, so who knows.

And Lyra stepped down last, her bow secured across her back, her expression showing wonder at the simple normalcy of the town.

Freedom manifested in the ability to walk through a market without purpose or urgency.

”We have three hours,” Jack announced. ”Gather whatever supplies you need, rest, and eat if youʼre hungry. Meet back at the carriage when the church bell rings twice.”

The group dispersed. Father Caelen went toward the temple, Rhys and Slyph toward what looked like a bookshop, and Lyra into the market with the cautious steps of someone unused to browsing without supervision.

Jack moved through the market, his eyes scanning the available goods.

Most of the townspeople gave him respectful distance. His noble clothing and obvious wealth marked him as someone deserving deference, even if they didnʼt recognize his specific family.

He purchased traveling rations to replace the supplies theyʼd consumed over the past six days.

Added medical supplies to their stocks. Acquired a few luxury items. Dried fruit, preserved meat, and a bottle of wine would make evening meals more pleasant.

The bracelet pulsed constantly as he moved through the crowd, reacting to every woman who passed within his field of vision.

Amplifying attraction to the merchantʼs daughter who sold him bread. The innkeeperʼs wife, who recommended local honey. Even the mature woman who offered directions to the best provisions shop.

It was exhausting, this constant bombardment of artificially enhanced desire. Jack found himself longing for the simplicity of Tartarus Spire, where threats were straightforward, and combat didnʼt require fighting his own bodyʼs responses.

He was loading his purchases into the carriage when movement at the marketʼs edge caught his attention.

An older man had approached Rhys.

The stranger appeared elderly. Seeming about seventy years old, with white hair, a weathered face, and the stooped posture of someone whose body had been worn down by decades of hard living.

He wore simple travelerʼs clothes that had seen better days, and he leaned heavily on a walking stick to get around.

But Jackʼs enhanced perception noticed details that didnʼt quite fit.

The way the older man moved despite the stooped posture.

There was strength there, carefully hidden but present in the controlled precision of each step.

The walking stick was too well-balanced; its weight distribution was for combat, not for walking.

And the manʼs eyes, despite his age, seemed very interested in Rhys.

Jack subtly shifted his hand towards the location where his weaponry would materialize from system storage, maintaining a casual demeanor while his focus intensified.

ʼWho is that old man? He does not look like heʼs worn down from age. System, who is he?ʼ

[....]

[Identity: Warren]

[Affinity: Water]

[Age: 92]

[....]

[Unknown. No further information available.]

ʼYouʼre telling me that old due is 92? He barely looks 70. He must be in incredible shape for his age to appear old but have a strong body.ʼ