Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 47: 46. Lighting in a Bottle

Read chapter 47 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

I am Ren Drakemore, age 9, the 2nd Prince of the Kingdom of Arcadia, and I am on a journey to the Kingdom of Hyperion. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/94d9f12d-768f-4ec3-a12d-51b487be4617 “That’s the last one,” Shadow says as he places the final crate of potions into the back of the wagon with a soft thud and the faint clinking of glass inside. He and Maribel had arrived just before sunrise, backing their wagon to the manor entrance to help us load the full stock—two thousand potions in total. “Thank you, Shadow,” I say, watching as he lifts the back gate into place and fastens the latches on either side with a solid click. While he works, my gaze drifts to Maribel, who stands a little distance away, framed by the amber light of dawn as she feeds correl-root to Huckleberry and Buttercup. The rising sun casts long shadows behind them. Shadow and Maribel stand in their distinctive adventuring gear, instantly recognizable even at a glance. Shadow’s thick, grey plate armor amplifies his already formidable stature, turning him into something more like a moving fortress than a man. At his hip hangs a single broadsword—etched with faint runes for paralysis—similar in enchantment to my own, though his is built for raw power and reach. Maribel’s appearance offers a stark contrast. She wears a fitted black bodysuit built for speed and subtlety. Twin spike-like daggers rest at her hips, and a bandolier of miniature crossbow bolts crosses her chest. Her gauntlets, both armored, double as weapons—her right one concealing a compact wrist-mounted crossbow for quick, close-range shots. Both she and Shadow wear cloaks made from mithril bear fur, the faint blue shimmer catching in the morning light. I’m dressed for the road as well, in a tailored blue and white doublet and trousers, styled after Arcadian officer uniforms—popular among nobles, but chosen by me for their durability and craftsmanship rather than fashion. Beneath the doublet, I wear padded armor layered with mithril chainmail—offering a practical middle ground between weight and protection. Where Shadow favors overwhelming defense, and Maribel prioritizes agility and stealth, my gear strikes a deliberate balance. I’m more protected than she is, and more mobile than he is—an equilibrium suited to my strengths. My paralyzing short sword rests at my side, and in my hand, I carry my new staff—elegant and dark, capped with a white-crystal focus that glints faintly in the sunlight. “Looks like it’s about time to head off,” I say, turning back toward Lord Griswald, Silfy, Mira, and Jade, who have all come to see us off. “Thank you for waking early to send us off, Lord Griswald.” Silfy scoffs lightly, clicking open the chronologue that hangs around her neck and glancing down at the slow dance of its dials and arms. “It’s only half past the sixth hour. I’m usually awake at this hour anyway,” she says, sounding proud of herself. They gifted me a similar device on my birthday, but I’m still not in the habit of referencing it as often as Silfy does. “And thank you for making breakfast early, Lady Mira,” I add with a grateful nod in her direction. “It was my pleasure, young master,” Mira replies, bowing her horned head with a warm smile. As she straightens, she holds out a small cloth-wrapped box, tied at the top to form a neat carrying handle. “And please take this—I’ve packed lunch for the road.” “Thank you, Mira. That’s very kind of you,” I say, accepting the bundle. “I’m going to miss your cooking.” Mira beams, her broad bovine face glowing with pride. The flick of her tail behind her shows she’s pleased by the compliment. “How long will you be gone?” Jade asks with a yawn, rubbing her tired eyes. She’s clearly far less awake than the rest of us. “About an arc,” I reply. “Why can’t I come?” she pouts, arms crossed and eyes beginning to glisten. “Like we discussed,” I explain patiently, “you need to stay here to manage the mithril trade while we’re gone. Look on th