As we entered that very village, I was unceremoniously covered with a blanket.

  "Sit quietly and don't draw attention," Lianel whispered.

  Yeah, right. My main mission right now was to pretend to be a pile of dirty laundry. I wanted to admire the view, study the local architecture, but no. I wasn't even allowed to move.

  Finally, when the hum of voices outside died down, I was allowed to poke my nose out.

  I pressed my face against the glass. It was... strange.

  Trees. They didn't just stand there; they swayed rhythmically from side to side, all at once and in the exact same rhythm, even though there was no wind. In my past kingdom, this would be called a "curse" and burned to the ground, but here it was clearly just part of the landscape.

  And then I saw a deer. With two heads.

  It stood by the road, chewing a bush with both mouths simultaneously. I don't know if that's a good mutation or not. From a survival standpoint—probably convenient. From an aesthetic standpoint—most likely terrible.

  Someone knocked on the window. It was Zevlud.

  Lianel opened the door, and the little elf deftly hopped inside, nearly crushing my foot.

  "Listen, let me sit with you guys," he adjusted his belt importantly. "With me, you'll be completely safe. Consider me your shield."

  I looked at his scrawny elbows. A very reliable shield.

  "Oh, are you really from that country where only humans live?" Zevlud stared at me, shamelessly examining my eyes. "Listen, are there a lot of people like you over there?"

  "Well, so far I've only seen one," I answered lazily. "Mirrors are a useful thing."

  "Ahhh... Amazing," Zevlud scooted closer, his nose almost touching mine. "You know, Greg, if I had eyes like that... I'd marry her right away."

  He pointed a finger at Alexia. She didn't even twitch an eyebrow.

  "Oh wait, hold on..." the kid shifted his gaze. "Actually, maybe it's better to marry her."

  The index finger shifted toward Lianel. She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

  Zevlud thought for a second, cast a critical eye over both princesses, and sighed: "Actually, no. I changed my mind. I think I'll look for better options. You guys are kind of too old..."

  Alexia and Lianel smiled in perfect synchronization. But it wasn't the kind, gentle smile you expect from a princess. It was the smile of a predator watching its prey decide to play brave.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Lianel reached forward with lightning speed and tightly grabbed Zevlud by his long elven ear.

  "What exactly are you going to look for?" she asked affectionately, pulling upward.

  "Ow-ow-ow!" the kid squealed, trying to twist away. "That hurts! Okay, okay, I was joking!"

  Lianel let him go. Zevlud huddled offendedly in the corner of the seat, rubbing his red ear.

  "Yeah..." he grumbled, casting sideways glances at the princesses. "Definitely not you two. You have the temperaments of wild cats."

  I snorted and turned back to the window. It seemed that in this country, even twelve-year-old kids thought about nothing but marriage contracts. Clearly, they don't have any demographic issues.

  Zevlud turned out to be quite the chatterbox.

  For the next hour, he passionately described how huge their country was, how many cities it had, and why their floating islands were the best thing to ever happen to architecture. I listened with half an ear, calculating whether I would fall asleep before he got to describing export goods.

  Suddenly, the kid fell silent and stared right at the bridge of my nose.

  "Listen, Greg... You must be a really cool mage, right? Since you have those eyes?"

  I yawned lazily, covering my mouth with my hand. "Not really. I know the basics. Light a spark here, sweep away some dust there. That's about it."

  Zevlud squinted skeptically. "Don't lie. A person with eyes like that can't be a simple 'utility' mage. In our world, your appearance always reflects your mana density."

  "Why are you so obsessed, kid?" I glanced at his scrawny arms. "What can you even do yourself, besides flapping your ears?"

  Instead of answering, Zevlud held out his palm. The air in the carriage grew humid, and a perfect sphere of water formed above his fingers. Without a second thought, he chucked it out the open window.

  "HEY!" an indignant horse whinny and some cursing echoed from outside.

  Zevlud giggled. Bright orange flames flared at his fingertips—first on one, then on all ten at once. Little torches crackled merrily in the dimness of the cabin.

  "Phew," he extinguished the fire and wiped his forehead. "I'm tired. It's hard to keep your concentration in a moving carriage."

  Lianel looked at him as if he had just turned copper into gold right before her eyes.

  "Wait..." she faltered. "Do all the children in your country know how to do that?"

  Zevlud looked at her like she was an uneducated country bumpkin. "Well, yeah. That's just the absolute basics. What kind of weird question is that?"

  Lianel turned pale and slowly shifted her gaze to Alexia.

  "Come on, Greg!" Zevlud nudged me in the ribs. "Show us something of yours."

  I sighed. Fine, "basic magic" it is.

  I raised my hand. Right out of thin air, moisture began to gather above my palm. A second later, a tiny, intricately detailed water puppet hovered in the air. It was transparent, but I had distinctly sculpted its face, fingers, and even the folds in its clothing.

  Hair-thin threads of water extended from my fingers to the puppet. I began to move my hand almost imperceptibly, mimicking the movements of a puppeteer. The little water man came to life: he bowed gracefully to the princesses, danced a short waltz on my palm, and ended with a jaunty wave to Zevlud.

  "Wow..." the elf whispered, unable to take his eyes off the figure. "What control."

  I smirked. "Yep, control."

  And before he could marvel any further, I sharply clenched my fist. The puppet popped, and the entire volume of water—cold and wet—flew with pinpoint accuracy right into Zevlud's face.

  "Weak control, admittedly," I summarized, looking at the dripping boy. "But it works as a shower."

  Zevlud wiped his eyes, sputtering. "Greg... you're only fifteen... How do you have such micro-manipulation of liquids?"

  "Ugh," I dramatically slumped back against the seat and closed my eyes. "That's it, I'm exhausted. That was the absolute limit of my powers. Honestly, I was just trying really hard to impress you. I'm a total weakling, I swear."

  Zevlud kept muttering something for a long time, but I could no longer hear him. Sleep.