Dawn finally broke, but the caravan continued speeding forward.
Jon had guessed the thieves, after failing to hijack them and losing several men, wouldn't let it go—they might be in hot pursuit. He urged constant acceleration, anxiety gnawing at him. But he was wrong: after a morning's hard ride, no sign of the thieves remained.
"Houshao'nao, go tell that idiot Jon the thieves aren't chasing us. Let me rest—I'm dying here," the donkey panted, words muffled by its heaving sides.
"If they're not chasing us, why didn't you say so earlier?" Houshao'nao snapped, bouncing on the donkey's back.
"Who says I didn't? Every time I open my mouth, you threaten to geld me! Do you think I'm crazy?" The donkey erupted, bucking Houshao'nao off with a violent twist.
*Thump.*
"Oww!" The cry startled the group, who tensed, fearing the enemy had caught up.
"Stop!" Jon shouted, seeing Houshao'nao sprawled on the ground. The caravan ground to a halt.
"What happened, Houshao'nao?" Jon asked, concerned.
"N-nothing! The donkey threw me," Houshao'nao lied, blushing as he lay splayed.
"Glad you're okay. Get back on and keep up," Jon urged.
"Boss, I don't think the thieves are coming. We'll reach Will Town in half an hour," Houshao'nao said, rubbing his aching back.
Jon scanned the dust-free trail behind them, nodding. "You're right. Looks like they gave up. Everyone, dismount and rest."
"Finally! I'm dead on my feet…" Mercenaries and caravan hands cheered, collapsing to the ground to catch their breath.
"Boss Jon, now that we've shaken the thieves, how about a celebration? Let's kill this donkey for meat!" Houshao'nao said, shooting the grazing donkey a venomous glance.
"Hmm…" Jon hesitated.
"*No!* I don't want to die—" The donkey froze, eyes locked on Jon, grass dangling from its mouth.
"Can't do that. The donkey's borrowed; we have to return it," Jon refused,awkward.
*Another narrow escape. I should flee while I can. With this magician, luck's never on my side,* the donkey thought, edging toward escape.
"Ah, right. Never mind then," Houshao'nao sighed, deflating.
"Cheer up, Houshao'nao. When we reach Will Town, I'll treat you to meat and wine, eh?" Jon said, amused by his disappointment.
*Meat? Wine?* The donkey stopped chewing, visions of juicy steaks and barrels of ale dancing in its head.
"Really, Boss? You mean it?" Houshao'nao perked up.
"Hmph, what do you take me for? I'm a man of my word," Jon feigned irritation.
"N-no, Boss! I just… haven't had meat in ages," Houshao'nao explained, shamefaced.
"Seriously? Fine, you'll eat till you burst—happy now?" Jon exclaimed, barely holding back a laugh.
Houshao'nao flushed, head bowed. "No quests mean no coins for meat."
"Relax. Work hard, and things will improve," Jon said, stifling a chuckle.
"I will, Boss! I swear it!" Houshao'nao declared, earnest.
Satisfied with his enthusiasm, Jon called the group back to the road once they'd rested. Houshao'nao remounted the donkey, trailing the caravan at an easy pace.
"Hey, Grand Magician, I want wine and meat too," the donkey whispered.
"You? Go eat your grass," Houshao'nao snapped, still sore from the earlier fall.
"Come on! I'm the one who detected the thieves—er, *you* detected them, right? But I carried you all night! I deserve some credit…" The donkey whined, relentless.
Houshao'nao smirked atop the donkey, entertained but refusing to yield. *Beg more, you foolish dragon. You've made my life hell…*
"…Please! I promise never to buck you off again. Deal?" The donkey pleaded, mixing desperation with a hint of grovel.
"Fine. Behave, and I'll consider it," Houshao'nao relented slightly.
"Really? Thank you—"
"Wait, I have a condition," Houshao'nao interrupted, grinning slyly.
"Condition? What?" The donkey tensed.
"From now on, call me 'Boss.' No exceptions. Or no wine, no meat."
*Damned magician! Make a dragon call him Boss? An insult to our noble lineage! I can't stoop so low for food…* The donkey seethed, torn.
Seeing silence, Houshao'nao pressed: "Your choice. Pride or feasting?"
*Ugh! This human is ruthless. When my curse breaks, I'll devour him whole—but for now…* Grudgingly, the donkey caved.
"F-fine, Boss. I'll call you Boss," it muttered, forcing a syrupy tone that made Houshao'nao's skin crawl.
*Is this dragon insane, or just scheming? Either way, I need to eliminate him before my magic returns—he'll torture me to death otherwise,* Houshao'nao thought, shuddering. Aloud, he said: "Good. Keep your word, and I'll keep mine."
"Yes, Boss…," the donkey replied, nodding obsequiously.
As the town's outline emerged on the horizon, the group relaxed, whooping and urging their mounts faster. Along the way, Houshao'nao and the donkey resumed their bickering—insults, tricks, and power plays—but the human usually won. Whenever the donkey protested, Houshao'nao brandished his knife, and it fell silent, tail between its legs.
The remaining days passed without incident. No more thieves harassed the caravan, and soon they reached Mecca Town safely. Gazing at the town's towering clock tower, Houshao'nao suddenly remembered his mission, a tinge of sadness welling up.
These past days, he'd bonded with the mercenaries—a rare occurrence in his two-year career. He'd grown to love this freewheeling life, yet he knew his lack of skills destined him to be a lowly mercenary.
"Houshao'nao, you look troubled. Sick?" Jon noticed his mood.
"Boss, I've been hiding something. I… I'm staying in Mecca Town," Houshao'nao said, hesitant.
"I know. Master Kerry told me to look after you. Funny—turns out *you* looked after *us* on this trip," Jon chuckled.
"Ah! You knew? Boss, you know I'm too clumsy for mercenary work. Being an attendant might be easier—humble, maybe, but safer than fighting for my life," Houshao'nao sighed.
Jon clapped his shoulder. "Life deals different hands. As you say, attending is safer than swordplay. Come, when we reach the guild, I'll introduce you to Master Sheffield—he's an old friend too."
"Really? Thanks, Boss! I was nervous about going alone," Houshao'nao admitted.
At the Mercenary Guild, Jon completed the mission, collected the final payment, and distributed coins to his men. Houshao'nao received a generous 20 gold for his "excellent" performance, making him whoop with joy.
After a few playful jabs, Jon led him to Master Sheffield's office. At the door, he motioned for silence and knocked gently.
"Who is it? Enter," a middle-aged voice called.
"Master Sheffield, it's Jon. Long time no see," Jon said, pushing open the door.
"'Swift Blade' Jon! Come in, come in. And this young man is?" The man rose, greeting them warmly.
"My companion. He bears a letter from Master Kerry, so I took the liberty of accompanying him," Jon explained.
"I see. Where's the letter?" Sheffield nodded.
The man was extravagantly dressed: a silk magic robe embroidered with intricate patterns, a wizard's hat inlaid with a precious magic crystal, two defensive rings on his fingers, and a crystal staff propped in the corner…
"Wow, this old man is loaded! I'm gonna strike it rich…" Houshao'nao gawked, eyes darting around, oblivious to Sheffield's question.
"Ahem, Houshao'nao. The letter for the Master," Jon coughed, hiding a smile.
"Boss? Oh! Right! Master Sheffield, forgive my rudeness. I meant no disrespect, but… you're astonishing. I've never seen a magician so noble, elegant, and dignified. I feel so unworthy beside you. Here's the letter," Houshao'nao babbled, blushing as he handed over the envelope.
Sheffield had been annoyed by the boy's staring—only Kerry and Jon's reputations had stayed his hand. But at the flattery, his irritation melted, and he smiled, accepting the letter warmly.