This is what I call life.

After quietly fleeing the Galbraith residence, I feel like a renewed man, someone who went into a dragon's lair and came back alive to tell the story. You know, I'm reckless, but I haven't turned mentally disabled yet.

Staying there for another day would put me in a terrible position. Ravenna, in her possessive way, would have found a way to trap me there.

Luckily, I managed to use sex to relieve the weight on both my lower and upper heads, the intense pleasure she got must have affected her conscience. I also decided to kind of get out of the sadomasochistic fetish business, it's not the most comfortable thing in the world to have something squeezing your neck.

First thing in the morning, I hurried to wake up Elizia and Victorian so we could escape while we had time. They woke up very sleepy, obviously, but they ended up following my orders without much trouble.

It's nearly noon, but we managed to leave Veyren and distance ourselves from those curtains of smoke covering the sky. I didn't even know this place had a part of the kingdom's industrial development, since in Sword of The Iron Maiden you don't see Leonhardt visiting places like this.

Comparing the current time and corresponding to the events in the novel, you could say he should be on a crusade with other inquisitors right now, but due to the Libertarians' interference, things might turn out differently. Philomeu isn't exactly an important person in the work, at most, he must have been mentioned as the founder of this revolutionary group.

Proof of this is the fact that I didn't recognize him at first, and it got even weirder with the fact that these guys were supposed to appear much later, in the attack on the Imperial City, after Leonhardt left the Church's Inquisition. In other words, the entire script has changed, and the attack probably won't happen.

If it does happen, it will be with other characters, perhaps with different details, like without the iron golems we faced. Still, I'm very worried. I think the event itself should happen in about five months, at most, which connects closely with the events the protagonist is going through.

First, he'll go through some "character tests", if I can call them that, during the crusade, by facing some random, messed-up villains who will do horrible things and, of course, stain our pure little hero's soul. He also meets the romantic interest in the process, but the problem is that Philomeu... or Philomea, I don't know, is in this group.

"What a headache..."

"What is it, Darius? Regretting leaving your beloved's arms?"

The owner of the provocation is none other than the beautiful Elizia, now sitting inside with me while Victorian guides the horses by the reins.

"A correction: I don't have 'beloveds', I sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want. It's part of my skill set, please respect that."

"Suuure, sweetie."

"Hey, I'm not lying!"

"No, imagine. It's just that you're trying to deceive the person who knows you best."

Damn, you can't argue against facts. How annoying, there's no decent way to retort... Still, I'm puzzled as to why Elizia was sent on this trip. She's been working at Madame Cerise's brothel for quite some time, considering we've known each other for years, but even with her contacts there and everything, it doesn't make sense for her to be in this strange group.

Duke Moonlight could easily find a guide, guard, hunter, or someone capable to come with us, so why Elizia of all people? I've even noticed she's good at carrying weight and riding a horse, but it still makes no sense to me! The worst thing is that if I ask anything, I won't get any answers, because this angelic, well-endowed woman always keeps her mouth shut!

I cross my arms and settle into the fluffy bench, which seems to have been made with feathers from a well-thighed harpy. At least I don't have to worry too much about the journey there, the trouble will only arise when I stop in the North. It's practically a civil war there, where the law of the jungle reigns and everyone is on their own.

People like Victorian survive, while weaker ones die before they can blink. There's also an issue I'm going to have to resolve, one I don't like because I have no flair for politics, and that's corruption. The main reason the people up there are so pissed off at the government comes from all this crap that the nobles created and their outdated sense of superiority, thinking that the people in the North are dumber or idiots.

It's a classic case of racism, it makes me nauseous and want to smash someone head into concrete. If it weren't for their incompetence, I could be resting right now in the imperial palace's bathhouse, surrounded by soap and with some rubber duckies or a slime floating with me.

Damn it, seriously, I just get more anxious knowing we're getting closer and closer!

"Elizia" I call out, turning my face slightly. "How much exactly is left until we stop in an important city up there? In that icy peak they call the North."

"About two more, roughly. We are stopping in Opir now, then we'll take an airship towards Mastan, and we should encounter the conflict roughly in the vicinity of a city called Luie."

These are names I'll forget halfway through the trip, but it's good to know we have about three stops left.

I don't know who had the idea of shoving airships into a pseudo-medieval setting, but it was probably some lazy author who didn't want to write twenty chapters just for the character to obtain the Yang of the Primordial Ice Demon, or some crap like that.

In the original work, airships were treated almost as technological relics, an inheritance from a lost empire that humanity barely understood. Now, seeing one up close (in this case, one crossing the sky above us) it looked more like an engineering miracle disguised as a hot air balloon with a god complex.

Arriving in Opir, the sky was already speckled with these floating monsters. The city looked like the spitting image of Veyren, with an almost identical architecture of smoking factories, but with the addition of steam machinery. The sound of hammers hitting metal mixed with locomotive whistles and the hiss of gears being adjusted.

"I don't understand how someone from the nobility has the guts to climb into that thing and not even consider that the whole structure might catch fire" I commented, getting out of the carriage and stretching my legs. "I mean, not wanting to curse our trip, but don't you guys think the same?"

The two look at me with that "Please, man, shut up" face, and I do my best to really not peep a word because if something happens, the culprit of the curse will be none other than the handsome guy here named Darius Moonlight.

"Sweetie" Elizia says, giving me a pretty hard elbow nudge to the ribs. Ouch!

"It's best not to worry about that. These things still cover more distance than horses."

Victorian let out a muffled laugh and went to look for a coachman to return the carriage, we even left an attached letter to notify the palace people. The atmosphere in that city was actually quite good because it was a place where nobody asked where you came from, only how much you could pay.

After about twenty minutes, we managed to sort everything out: we left the carriage at a mechanical stable and bought three tickets for the next airship. It would depart at sunset, which meant a few good hours of waiting.

"Well, if we have to wait, let's wait properly." Elizia pointed in one direction with a little smile on her face. "That looks like a good place."

I followed her finger and came face to face with a sturdy tavern, the kind of place where the floor must be so greasy that your boots stick to it. The sign said The Golden Horn, and the smell of burnt alcohol was so strong it gave the impression that a truck full of gasoline had accidentally crashed there.

I've been to more unsanitary places, so this place is nothing.

The atmosphere was warm, lit by gas lamps. A group of dwarves was drinking heavily in one corner, and a troupe of elves was trying to play something that sounded like music but was just a lot of sharp squeaking they liked to call art.

Victorian sat down first, ordering a mug of strong beer. Elizia ordered the same thing. I, for a change, stuck with water, only to change my mind later and ask for beer since I didn't want to be left out of the fun.

We spent some time talking about the trip, the absurd price of the tickets, and Victorian's fear of flying.

"A man born to walk on the ground shouldn't play bird" he was saying.

Peace. Just chilling and relaxing, with no problems to bother my head... Ah, there's a motherfucker standing in the light, great. I look up.

A huge Orc, with greenish-gray skin and tusks the size of my pinky finger, was staring at me with a look that mixed disdain and rage. What does this filthy cur want with me?

"Gru'k mar drash'kul... vren na'dor!"

"Huh... blessings and health to you too?"

Elizia sighed, crossing her arms.

"He called you a useless worm and said he wants to rip off your head to put it in a barrel."

"Oh yeah? What a friendly guy."

The Orc approached closer, slamming his fist on the table. Victorian's beer splashed onto the floor, and I grabbed my wooden mug in time to keep it steady.

"Dor'gha nuu sh'tar!"

"Whoa, here comes trouble" the blonde muse took a swig of beer and then continued: "He just used a bunch of ugly words, but those specific ones are for calling someone to a fight. When an Orc says that and the other person refuses, they get the reputation of being a coward, wimp, softy, cuck, or whatever word you want to think of to affect a person's honor."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. That phrase is usually what Orcs use to duel each other. They never refuse, by the way."

How annoying, just because I'm still a little sore from yesterday. Regardless, considering the clothes I wear and even the company I keep, it was to be expected that sooner or later some shitty troublemaker would call attention to me. I slam my mug on the table and wipe the remaining foam from the corner of my mouth.

Tonight is going to be wild.

"Alright, big guy. Let's settle this in the only language that gets through your thick skull."

I give him a light shove, just to provoke, and he responds with a straight punch that nearly sent me to the floor. Fuck, why are these motherfuckers always strong?!

I held firm, spun my body, and returned the favor with a punch to the chin that echoed through the hall. Tables moved away, the dwarves started shouting bets, and someone pulled out a harmonica in the background.

Elizia put her hand to her forehead, screaming something I understood as "CRUSH HIM, HOT STUFF."

That motivates me too much.

The Orc roared and came at me again, using his fists like hammers. I countered with a kick, he dodged and shoved me against the bar. Glasses shattered, beer flew, and the tavern keeper started yelling about damages, but we were still in a sincere exchange of blows.

I laughed. Living like this is too damn good. The only certainty I have is that I'm going to beat this guy so badly he'll run back into his mommy's arms.

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