As the door closed behind them, the guards outside began murmuring among themselves.
"Unbelievable," one whispered, nudging the guard beside him. "Sitting in the Princess's own carriage..."
"Years in service, and I've barely seen her at a distance," another muttered, still watching with a mixture of envy and awe.
One of the guards, shaking off his surprise, adjusted his hold on the unconscious captain draped over his shoulder, checking to ensure his grip was secure.
"All right, let's move. With the Princess here, we can't afford any delays."
The guards formed up around the carriage, resuming their positions.
Silently, with vigilant eyes scanning the path ahead, they began their journey toward the imperial capital once more.
...
As Zarak entered the carriage, he felt an odd shift, as though stepping into another world entirely.
Inside, he didn't see a traditional carriage interior but instead found himself in a misty, open space, silver fog drifting across the ground and stretching out in all directions.
At the center of it all was a spring, glowing faintly in the dim light, with mist rising gently from its surface.
Drawn by soft, echoing laughter, Zarak walked forward, narrowing his eyes as he took in the scene.
Around the spring were a group of women with an ethereal beauty, their forms draped in sheer towels that clung loosely, as if ready to slip at any moment.
They turned to him with twinkling eyes and inviting smiles.
"Come join us," one called out in a voice like silk, her laughter warm and playful.
The others giggled, their eyes gleaming with a mix of innocence and mischief.
But Zarak didn't so much as blink. He regarded the scene with a steady, indifferent gaze, his expression flat.
The enticing allure of the women, the enchanting spring, and the mist, all seemed hollow to him, no more than a clever illusion.
He let out a quiet sigh, sounding almost bored.
"Break,"
It seems this old man had no restraints at all. He must have done some unholy things in the illusion. Embarrassing both of them in front of the princess like this.
To this, Zarak could only smile wryly. He had not known this wise old man was also had a second nature.
He let out a sigh and snapped his fingers with mild frustration.
The sound startled the old man out of his stupor, bringing him back to reality.
He quickly wiped his mouth and cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure with exaggerated dignity.
The princess watched this little exchange with an amused smile, her eyes sparkling with quiet laughter.
She turned back to Zarak, tilting her head slightly.
"During your fight with those assailants, I noticed you finished them without using a weapon," she said, her eyes bewildered. "How did you do it?"
"It's...a secret art from my master,"
"It appears your secret art is also able to break my illusions," she said, curiosity evident in her voice. "What kind of skill was that?"
Zarak returned her smile but kept his answer vague.
"It's a secret art for a reason," he replied, skillfully dodging the question.
"You don't need to answer," She said, apologetically, "I was just curious, as I've never heard of a skill that can break illusions,"
She changed the topic. "Where does your master live?"
"My master...he lives in the mountains,"
The princess's gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes filled with intrigue.
"Your master must be a hermit," she said thoughtfully, "to know such profound arts."
Zarak nodded his head in acknowledgment, but he couldn't help but stifle a chuckle.
Hermits? Hardly. While they had lived in secluded mountains, hermits wasn't quite the right term.
His master was more of a force of nature than a recluse, and their hidden home had seen plenty of chaos. Still, he let the assumption stand, simply nodding.