Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

"Chirovan, Edris, take a look," Caspian ordered. "And keep your guard up."

Chirovan nodded, his boisterous nature tempered by the seriousness of the situation. He dismounted swiftly, drawing his sword as he approached the first carriage. Edris followed, his eyes darting between the trees and the wreckage, ever vigilant.

Elara leaned closer to the window, watching the knights investigate. A sense of dread crept over her, the scene seemed far too quiet for comfort.

"Something's wrong," she heard Chancellor Kyran murmur to Caspian. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword. "It feels like a trap."

Before the words had fully left his lips, the shrill cry of a maid ripped through the too-quiet forest. Shadows sprang forth, masked attackers swarming the knights. They moved in tandem, with a precision that implied they had been waiting for this moment. And, Elara noticed with ice flooding her veins, they were all moving for the carriage.

"Protect Miss. Elara!" Caspian shouted, drawing his sword in a single fluid motion. The sound of steel filled the air as the knights met the ambush head-on.

Chirovan's laughter rang out as he parried a blow, his sword a blur of silver. "You picked the wrong group to ambush, fuckers!" he taunted, his blade slicing clean through one attacker's defenses. He moved with surprising agility for someone of his build, his strikes powerful and unrelenting.

Edris, by contrast, was silent, a shadow darting between opponents. He danced around his foes, striking with surgical precision, every thrust of his dagger finding a weak spot. His eyes flicked to the treeline, tracking movement before any attack could land. When an assailant lunged at Elara's carriage, Edris was there, intercepting the blow with a quick, brutal slash.

Kyran fought like a tempest, his sword a streak of lightning. He barked orders as he fought, directing the knights with calm efficiency. "Hold the line! Keep them away from the carriage!"

Elara's heart raced as she pressed herself against the seat, feeling the carriage rock from the chaos outside. She peeked out just in time to see Caspian cut down three attackers in a single, fluid motion. Like she'd thought the last time she saw it, his swordplay was breathtaking—elegant yet ruthless. He moved the way he said his mother danced, each strike meticulous, every parry effortless. He was like a storm given human form, all silver hair and glinting steel, cutting through the enemy ranks with ease.

Despite the chaos, the knights worked in perfect tandem, a well-oiled machine. Chirovan and Edris fought side by side, their contrasting styles complementing each other. Kyran's commands kept them coordinated, turning the tide even as more attackers spilled from the forest. And Caspian was a force of nature, deadly and unstoppable.

But the attackers seemed single-minded, their focus solely on the carriage. They paid no heed to the maids or the coachmen, they were merely trying to find their way around the knights protecting her carriage. A group of them charged for Chirovan, Edris, and the many knights protecting her all at once. Though the knights fought well, one masked man managed to break through the line, rushing towards Elara's door.

The door to the carriage was flung open and a scream blew out of her, scratching at her throat and she fell back onto the carriage floor.

"Elara, stay down!"

Caspian's voice was sharp, and in an instant, he was there. He caught the attacker's wrist mid-strike, twisting with enough force to disarm the man before driving his sword through his chest. Blood sprayed across the carriage door and on the floor at her feet, narrowly missing the hem of her dress, but Caspian didn't flinch. He pulled his sword free and shoved the body aside.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his silver eyes scanning her for injuries, his breath heavy with exertion.

Elara shook her head, unable to find her voice. She was shaking; the vile taste of vomit pooled in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to keep it down.

The battle was ending as quickly as it had started. The remaining attackers, seeing their numbers dwindling, attempted to flee. Edris brought down one with a well-aimed throw of his dagger while Kyran cut off another's retreat.

Crisseda threw herself into the carriage as things calmed down. "Miss," she cried, stepping over the splatters of blood to help Elara from the floor and onto the velvet seats. "Are you well?"

Elara had no words, so she just nodded. It was a lie to say she was well right now, but she would be. Given enough time to process everything. Crisseda rubbed at Elara's ice-cold hands with her own hands, trying to warm them.

With the remainder of the masked men taken care of, only one attacker remained. This one lay on the ground, clutching his side, blood seeping between his fingers. Caspian approached him, his sword still drawn, dripping with blood from its previous kill.

"Who sent you?" Caspian demanded, his voice like ice.

The man looked up, his mask half torn away, revealing a twisted sneer. He didn't answer. Instead, he spat blood and reached into his pocket.

"Stop him!" Kyran shouted.

Chirovan and a few nights all rushed to stop the man, but it was too late. He crushed something between his teeth, his eyes rolling back as he began to convulse. A dark, viscous foam bubbled from his mouth, and a sickly, sweet scent filled the air.

Even before Caspian spoke, she knew what had happened but when he did, it was only confirmation.

"Nightvein root."

Caspian sheathed his sword, coming to stand directly over the man who had stopped convulsing and was now skin-pricklingly still. He reached for one of the man's hands, then the other, and what he saw there made him turn around to look directly at Elara, and she immediately knew. This was another group of people disguised as the Sons of Lyrel.

"Edris, Chirovan, take a group with you and sweep the area. Make sure there are no others. Kyran, see if you can find anything on the bodies—nothing's too small, find anything that might give us a clue."

They all inclined their heads to Caspian and headed off to carry out his orders. Chirovan was gathering his team. Elara saw him call for Melanova, and even in her haze of shock, she took extra notice of the woman. She was striking with dark hair, dark eyes, and olive-toned skin. Funnily enough, she reminded Elara of Carmille. The only differences between the two of them were that Carmille's face had been a little rounder and Melanova had two dimples implanted firmly in her pretty face.

Caspian was suddenly at the door of her carriage, standing there awkwardly as if he wasn't quite sure what he should say. "Are you certain you're unharmed?" 

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She struggled to force her lips back into a smile. "I'm fine. Thanks to you." 

Crisseda had escaped to find her some water sometime during the time she had been sitting in the carriage, staring blankly at everyone else moving around her as if nothing had happened. Her shaking had stopped, but Elara still felt the phantom slivers of it down her spine. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Elara felt a shiver run through her body as she looked out the carriage window, the once-golden forest now shadowed by the aftermath of the ambush. The knights were still standing guard, eyes scanning the treeline for any sign of movement. She hugged herself, trying to will the trembling not to start again.

Caspian was staying near her, she'd noticed, but he seemed to be leaving her to process things on her own, and she was grateful for that. While he busied himself giving his knights the order to clear the road of the broken carriages, Elara sat in the carriage, watching as Crisseda and another maid scrubbed the blood from the floor and the door.

Chirovan and his group returned from their small excursion after a time, his armor splattered with the blood of their attackers from before, but his expression was unbothered as if he had merely completed another day's training.

"No more threats, my lord," Chirovan reported. "Edris and I swept the perimeter. Whoever they were, they didn't leave anyone behind."

Caspian gave a short nod, his expression unreadable as he glanced at Elara and then back at the knights in front of him. "Thank you, Chirovan. Thanks to all of you. Inform the men we're moving out immediately."

Chirovan's gaze flicked to Elara, his normally bright eyes shadowed with concern. He gave her a small, reassuring smile before turning to relay the orders, his voice booming through the trees as he rallied the knights.

Sometime later, Chancellor Kyran emerged from the trees, too. His eyebrows were furrowed and Elara could tell by the look on his face, he'd found something of note. He made his way over to Caspian and bowed.

"What did you find?"

Elara's ears perked up, waiting even as her stomach roiled with anxiety.

Kyran glanced briefly at her, then back at Caspian. "I'd prefer to discuss it with you and Miss. Elara at length once we've reached Brovendor, my lord. I think it best if we speak in private."

Caspian's jaw clenched, but he was nodding. "Very well. That's for the best. We've been here too long as is."

Elara's stomach twisted at the implication. Whatever Kyran had found, it was important enough to delay the discussion until they were in a safer location. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her fingers gripped the edge of the window, and she looked out to see Edris remounting his horse, his usual stoic expression back in place, though his eyes lingered on the forest for a moment longer than usual.

Caspian came up to the carriage, watching her with unfathomable eyes. "We'll set off now," he said to her, his voice soft. "This time, we won't be stopping like before. We'll keep going until we reach Brovendor. The knights will pass you our dried rations and water until then. You may be uncomfortable, but it will only be for a short time."

"I'll be fine," she managed to say. The words were beginning to feel a little less hollow now than they did before, but her mind was still racing, replaying the attack over and over. The masked men lunging at the carriage, the flash of steel, Caspian's swift and deadly strikes. The image of the man foaming at the mouth after biting down on the nightvein root. It all made her stomach churn.

Of course, she knew death was a thing. The Day of Eternal Night often described all kinds of violent rebellions and violent wars, but it was her first time really seeing it. Last time, when they'd been ambushed by the bandits, Caspian and the knights had only attacked in ways that would disarm the men, not kill them. But that must be because the bandits had been weak and it went against a knight's code of arms to fight against men weaker than himself.

"If you need a moment—"

"I don't," Elara interrupted too quickly. She forced a smile. "I'm alright, truly. Let's just… let's get to Brovendor."

He held her gaze for a moment longer, assessing the truth of her words, before he gave a small, reluctant nod. "Very well. Should you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

With the knights regrouped, the procession set off once more, the sound of hooves pounding against the dirt road as they moved at a faster pace than before. Elara settled back into her seat, watching the forest pass by, her nerves still humming with leftover adrenaline.

The attack replayed in her mind like a broken record. The attackers hadn't said a word; their movements had been calculated and silent. They had been on this road where they knew the group would pass through, waiting for them. They had even staged a broken carriage incident to bring the group to a halt. It was clear they had been aiming for her—whoever had sent them wasn't interested in taking anyone else's life. But why? And why impersonate the Sons of Lyrel again?