The carriage rolled steadily along the road, wooden wheels creaking in a rhythm that was oddly calming.
Arelion leaned back against the seat, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as the scenery passed by. Fields. Trees. The occasional roadside marker.
This is much better than walking.
Across from him, Sir Elayne sat straight-backed, hands resting neatly on her knees. Even inside a moving carriage, she looked like she was standing at attention.
After a few minutes of silence, Arelion spoke.
"Hey, Elayne."
"Yes?" she replied immediately.
"You're the leader of the knights, aren't you?"
The air shifted—just slightly.
Sir Elayne's eyes turned to him, sharp and assessing.
"…How did you know?"
Oof. Straight to the throat.
He shrugged. "Your skill. It's above average. No hesitation, no wasted movement. The others wouldn't move like that unless they were used to being followed."
She studied him for a moment longer before looking away.
"A predictable conclusion," she said. "And a foolish question."
Arelion smiled. "Ouch."
The merchant driving the carriage coughed awkwardly, clearly pretending not to listen.
Arelion, of course, continued.
"So, as the leader of the knights, what kind of magic do you—"
"There is another saying," Sir Elayne cut in calmly. "Those who pry too deeply into hidden truths often invite calamity."
He froze mid-sentence.
"…Is that the same saying as before, or do you just have a whole book of these?"
"It is wisdom."
Uh-huh. Sure it is.
Arelion sighed internally.
This is it. This is the moment.
I ask one more question, thunder strikes, dramatic music plays, and suddenly we're fighting a mid-boss.
He thought of a certain white-haired elf calmly narrating ancient disasters like casual trivia.
Frieren would absolutely warn me not to do this.
He hesitated.
Then—
"…What magic do you possess?" he asked anyway.
Silence.
The carriage kept moving.
No thunder.
No ominous chanting.
Arelion blinked.
Huh. I'm not dead.
Sir Elayne exhaled slowly.
"…Very well," she said. "But I will only explain the nature of it. Not all of its applications."
"Deal," Arelion replied immediately.
She raised one hand slightly.
A faint pressure filled the carriage—not heavy, not painful, but undeniable. Like the presence of someone who expected to be obeyed.
Then it appeared.
Above her head, a crown of light manifested—thin, incomplete, and slightly tilted. It did not rest upon her, but floated just above, as if acknowledging her existence rather than crowning her.
The merchant gasped.
Arelion's eyes widened.
Okay. That's definitely not standard knight magic.
"This authority-based magic is called Sovereign Decree," Sir Elayne said calmly.
The crown shimmered faintly, then faded.
"It is a command-type magic," she continued. "One that enforces obedience through will rather than force."
Arelion leaned forward. "So… mind control?"
"No," she corrected. "Compulsion."
She explained it plainly, without pride.
"Mode One allows me to issue commands that restrain, halt, or suppress movement. The stronger the opponent's resistance, the greater the strain on myself."
"So you can tell someone to stop… and they just do?" Arelion asked.
"Within limits," she replied. "The command must be absolute in intent and achievable by the target. I cannot order a man to fly. But I can order him to kneel."
Arelion whistled softly.
That's broken.
No flashy explosions. No giant magic circles.
Just 'sit'—and the enemy sits.
He glanced at her again.
"And the crown?"
"A manifestation of borrowed authority," she said. "It is not truly mine."
Borrowed.
That word stuck.
Interesting.
"And you have more commands?" he asked.
"Yes. Many."
He nodded. "You're not going to list them."
"No."
Worth a try.
Arelion leaned back, hands behind his head.
"…So I asked, nothing bad happened, and the world didn't collapse."
Sir Elayne frowned slightly. "Do not be careless."
"I'm just saying," he replied, smiling, "maybe the misfortune only triggers when you explain things dramatically."
She stared at him.
"…That is not how magic works."
"Pretty sure it is," he said. "I've seen enough anime."
She did not ask what that meant.
The merchant cleared his throat nervously. "A-are you… adventurers?"
Arelion laughed. "Not exactly."
"Then where are you headed?"
"To the nearest city beyond the capital," Arelion answered. "We'll decide from there."
The merchant nodded. "Then you're in luck. I'm heading that way myself."
The carriage continued forward, carrying them deeper into the world beyond the throne.
Arelion closed his eyes, a small smile on his face.
No calamity.
No lightning.
Guess I get one free question per episode.
For now.