Chapter 12 - Into the Mountains

Morning light broke softly over Magnolia's rooftops as the caravan prepared to depart.

Five large covered wagons lined the cobblestone road leading out of the eastern gates, flanked by six heavily armed mercenaries dressed in black and crimson armor—the same colors as the Eastern Trade Guild's banners. The guards moved efficiently, checking the harnesses, inspecting wheels, and quietly discussing formation.

Ralven stood at the head of the caravan, inspecting the preparations with folded arms. His sharp features were calm, but his eyes remained constantly active, scanning every movement.

Teresa approached without fanfare, dressed now in her full Claymore armor: a fitted silver breastplate, broad pauldrons, gauntlets, high-plated boots, and the long white cloak falling behind her shoulders. The black Fairy Tail emblem was stamped cleanly onto the center of the cloak's upper back, standing out sharply against the flowing white fabric as it moved with her steps.

Ralven turned toward her, offering a thin smile. "Excellent punctuality, Lady Teresa."

"There is no value in delay," Teresa answered calmly.

"Indeed." Ralven gestured to the lead wagon. "As agreed, you will ride at the front. Should any... unexpected problems arise, we leave full discretion to your judgment."

Teresa's silver eyes narrowed slightly. "You remain confident for a man anticipating danger."

Ralven chuckled lightly. "Confidence is necessary in my line of work."

She said nothing further.

Macao and Warren stood at a safe distance near the gates, watching the caravan's final checks. Romeo lingered nearby, watching with wide eyes.

"Still feels wrong, Master," Warren whispered.

"I know," Macao replied. "That's why you're tracking them through your telepathy network. If anything goes sideways, report back instantly."

Warren nodded.

Romeo looked up at his father. "She'll be okay, right?"

Macao's eyes followed Teresa's armored form. "If anyone can handle it, it's her."

The caravan began its slow rollout of Magnolia, wheels creaking beneath the heavy loads.

Teresa walked beside the lead wagon at a steady pace, senses extended.

The city's warmth faded behind them as they crossed into the open grasslands leading toward the mountain range. Flocks of birds scattered overhead. Thin lines of early fog clung to the earth as the landscape shifted from rolling hills into rugged foothills.

The mercenaries remained largely silent, trained enough to maintain discipline. But even their calm professionalism couldn't hide the nervous glances cast toward Teresa as they marched.

Her silver eyes remained forward.

Watching.

Listening.

Waiting.

By mid-morning, they entered the first narrow pass between two steep ridges. The dirt road wound sharply here, flanked on both sides by tall rock faces and sparse trees clinging to the cliffs.

Teresa's senses tingled faintly.

No danger yet—but the presence of lingering, unstable magic.

The mercenaries slowed cautiously.

Ralven, riding comfortably in a small enclosed cart behind the lead wagon, leaned slightly out. "We're entering the old passes. These regions haven't been maintained by local authorities for years."

"Because of beasts?" Teresa asked without turning.

"Officially, yes," Ralven replied. "In truth? Because ancient ruins litter these hills. The council prefers to pretend they don't exist."

Teresa processed his words carefully.

He was offering small truths—but only selectively.

The first encounter came sooner than expected.

A sudden sharp cry split the air—one of the rear guards shouted.

From the ridges above, a heavy shape lunged downward—a twisted beast resembling a massive reptilian lizard, but its scales shimmered with faint runes etched unnaturally into its hide. Its jaw split unnaturally wide, revealing multiple rows of needle-like teeth as it struck the last wagon's side.

The rear oxen screamed as the beast tore into the wooden frame.

"Formation!" one mercenary shouted.

The guards reacted swiftly, raising crossbows and staves.

But Teresa was already moving.

In one smooth motion, she reached behind her back, drawing her Claymore free as she launched herself toward the rear.

The creature snarled as it tore through another section of the wagon's side, thick magical saliva burning the wood like acid.

Teresa closed the distance in moments.

Her Claymore swept horizontally, slicing clean through the beast's extended neck.

The head tumbled, landing with a wet thud.

Its body spasmed briefly before collapsing.

Silence returned quickly, save for the frantic oxen trying to regain footing.

The mercenaries lowered their weapons, exchanging tense glances.

Ralven stepped calmly from his cart, inspecting the wrecked wagon as if confirming something.

"Efficient work," he said smoothly. "Precisely why we hired you."

Teresa wiped a small fleck of acidic spittle from her gauntlet.

"This was not a random ambush."

Ralven raised an eyebrow. "You believe it was targeting us?"

"Yes." She gestured toward the faint runic marks on the creature's hide. "Modified. A product of magical tampering."

Ralven's eyes gleamed slightly. "Perhaps. The world is full of such curiosities."

The damaged wagon was deemed too unstable to continue. After brief adjustments, the remaining cargo was redistributed across the other four carts.

Teresa remained alert as they resumed movement.

As noon faded into the afternoon, the path narrowed further, climbing steadily into sharper switchbacks along the cliffs.

The mercenaries stayed unusually silent.

They respected her presence, but their eyes betrayed unease.

Not at the creatures.

At the cargo.

Finally, after another two hours of careful travel, Teresa spoke.

"You will reveal the true contents."

Ralven smiled faintly inside his curtained cart. "Curious, aren't you?"

"Necessary," she said calmly.

The caravan halted on a wide plateau.

Ralven stepped out, signaling his lead guard.

From the lead wagon, a large reinforced crate was carefully unlatched.

The lid opened.

Inside, resting on layered silk wrappings, sat a glowing crystal orb—pulsing softly with shifting blue light.

But as Teresa's eyes met it, she felt the pulse reach deeper—a flicker of something old and volatile beneath its calm glow.

Ancient magic.

Raw. Unstable.

Ralven spoke softly. "One of many relics unearthed from forbidden sites east of Bosco. Officially, this object does not exist."

Teresa's silver eyes narrowed slightly. "You smuggle cursed artifacts."

"We transport valuable historical objects," Ralven corrected, still smiling. "To clients who understand their significance."

Teresa stared into the orb's shifting core.

Whatever this was, it would attract more than simple rogue beasts.

And Ralven knew it.