The carriage rattled and jolted along the rough, uneven road, its wooden wheels groaning under the weight of the five hundred armed men marching in formation around it. Outside, the world was a blur of dust and trees, but inside the carriage, curtains were tightly drawn, shutting out the restless gaze of the soldiers. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the steady creaks of the vehicle and the occasional grunt of effort as it trundled forward.

  Well… around five hundred. Three men had vanished at the very start of the march—disappeared without a trace. No one knew where they went. Desertion, I was certain. That left us with 497 soldiers, all silently wondering what the hell was happening behind the thick curtains of the carriage.

  Inside, though, the atmosphere was far from peaceful.

  Sparks flew between Markus and me, sharp words clashing like weapons in the confined space. Our argument was fierce, centered around the spear he insisted was an essential weapon. To me, the spear was a relic—useless and outdated. Spearmen were always the first to fall in battle, their long reach no match for quick swordsmen or relentless horsemen.

  “You think a spear’s going to save the day? Only a blind oracle would predict that spearmen are heroes! Real fighters always wield weird weapons!” I snapped, eyes blazing. “Heroes swing swords, villains brandish pitch forks. It’s been like that since the dawn of time, you filthy maggot!”

  Markus’s lips curled into a disdainful sneer. “You old hag, probably learned that from dusty scrolls thousands of years ago!” he shot back, his voice thick with mockery.

  “Old hag? Hey, I’m still in my teens!” I crossed my arms stubbornly and gave an exaggerated sniff, trying to look offended. He was such a meanie for calling me that.

  Markus chuckled darkly. “Don’t make me laugh. Everyone knows loli vampires are at least a thousand years old.”

  I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I’d read those books—several of them. They weren’t just stories. But it wasn’t his comment about my age that stung the most. It was the way he dismissed my views so casually, as if my experience and skill didn’t count for anything.

  I narrowed my eyes and leaned closer, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. “The spear might have its place, but I’ve seen too many spearmen fall before the first arrow flies. If you want to keep horsemen at bay, arrows are better—fast, deadly, and precise. You don’t need to poke; you need to pierce.”

  Markus raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer. The carriage rocked again, the road making it impossible to hold a perfectly steady stance.

  Outside, the army’s footfalls hammered steadily, a harsh reminder that there was no turning back now. Whatever lay ahead, we were heading straight into the teeth of the bandit territory—five hundred armed men, a single tense carriage, and two stubborn souls locked in an endless battle of wits and steel.

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  “Your views are expected coming from some relic of the past.” Markus mumbled quietly.

  “What did the flea-infested ape in front of me just say?” I hissed, teeth clenched so tightly it almost hurt.

  Markus smirked, unfazed. “I said the dwarf before me isn’t just small — she’s freakishly old, too.”

  He crossed his arms, turning his back to me like a spoiled child refusing to engage. That only fueled the fire burning inside me.

  “Take that back!” I snapped, jabbing a finger directly at his chest.

  “What? That you’re damn small? Or that you’re older than all my grandparents combined?” His voice dripped with mockery.

  That was the final straw.

  Without hesitation, I lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar, shaking him just enough to let him know I meant business — but not enough to throw him out of the carriage. While made his first attempts to break free, I reached for his luggage, yanking it open with one hand. My fingers rifled through the contents until I found what I wanted: a wine bottle sealed with a cork.

  I ripped the cork free with my teeth, then tilted the bottle over Markus’s head, drenching him in cool wine. The sticky liquid ran down his hair and soaked through his clothes. Satisfied, I threw the bottle to the floor. The glass clattered but held strong, refusing to shatter.

  Only then did I release him, clutching his luggage possessively. Markus stood there, stunned and dripping, trying to gather his composure.

  “I’m sorry! It’s just…” His voice trembled, surprised by the sudden eruption.

  “Just what?” I growled, my anger far from spent.

  “Because lying is prohibited under military law. I can′t say you are young and tall.” He admitted, waiting for my reaction.

  “AGHH!” I roared, losing what little patience I had left. Without a second thought, I closed my eyes and opened the carriage door. The carriage jolted as I flung the contents out into the dust-filled air. Clothes, trinkets, and who-knows-what else scattered wildly, nearly hitting one of the guards square on the head. The soldiers looked on with amused, bleating laughter, like goats at a circus.

  Markus, however, looked like he’d just been sentenced to death—wide-eyed, stunned… yet there was a strange glint of satisfaction hidden beneath his shock. It was clear: finally, he had gotten under my skin.

  “Please, don’t fight me!” he called out, his voice light and teasing, as if daring me to continue.

  I snarled, stepping closer, my eyes blazing. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  Before he could answer, I seized the moment and shoved him as hard as I could toward the door of the cramped carriage. I didn’t need to hurt him — just enough to make my point. My strength during the day was abysmal anyways, so the intention was more important than the act itself. The tension in the air thickened as I fell deadly silent, finger pointed sharply at the door like a judge sentencing him.

  With an exaggerated salute and a grin that screamed mischief, Markus opened the door and leapt out of the moving carriage. The world tilted slightly as the wheels rattled beneath me, but I didn’t move. I sincerely hoped he sprained his ankle on the rough ground outside. Instead, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and resisted the urge to be further irritated by the fact that I was short.