KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess-Chapter 118: [] Delayed Payment

Rachel walked out of the room without a backward glance. Xavier stood there for a moment, listening to her footsteps fade down the wooden stairs.

"Well, that was fucking dramatic," he muttered to the empty room.

When next we meet, it might not be as friends.

What did that even mean? If the Heart of Winter needed all seven "stars" and she was actively searching for them, their goals seemed aligned. Her sudden adversarial stance made no sense.

"Maybe she just wanted to say something badass before leaving," Xavier said, grabbing his pack from under the bed. "Prophets and their theatrics."

He checked the contents quickly—extra clothes, a water skin, the small pouch Rachel had given him. Not much, but it would have to do. The rest of his supplies were with Naomi.

Xavier glanced around the room one last time, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Prophecy-fated stuff had never been his strong point, not in his past life, not now. Give him a clear target, a method, a timeline—that’s where he excelled. All this vague "winds told me" nonsense just gave him a headache.

Speaking of which, the pressure behind his eyes had settled into a steady throb, like someone tapping a finger against his skull in rhythm with his heartbeat.

He needed to find that caravan Lukas had mentioned. The eastern gate, if he remembered correctly.

The common room had filled a bit more since he’d gone upstairs. Harrick nodded to him from behind the bar.

"Leaving us already?" the innkeeper asked.

"Duty calls," Xavier replied, dropping a few copper coins on the counter. "For your trouble."

Harrick swept the coins into his palm. "Not enough trouble to warrant this, but I won’t say no to extra coin."

"Consider it thanks for the free cider."

"Nothing’s free in Vykengard, son. Just delayed payment." Harrick’s weathered face creased into something approximating a smile. "Safe travels."

The sky had darkened since morning, heavy clouds rolling in from the north. Snow would follow soon. He pulled his new cloak tighter and set off toward the eastern gate, using the map from the fortune teller to navigate Vykengard’s winding streets.

The eastern gate itself was impressive—twenty feet of solid wood reinforced with iron bands, flanked by stone towers where guards in blue cloaks kept watch. A small line of people waited for inspection before being allowed through. Beyond the gate, Xavier could see the road winding into the foothills, disappearing into pine forests dusted with snow.

He approached a guard stationed near a wooden booth.

"Excuse me," Xavier said. "I’m looking for a caravan bound for Hearthome."

The guard, a stocky woman with a scar across her chin, pointed to a collection of wagons gathered in a clearing just inside the gate. "Dalen’s caravan leaves at midday. If they’re taking on passengers, that’s where you’d ask."

"Thank you."

Xavier made his way to the wagons. Five in total, arranged in a loose circle. Men and women loaded supplies, checked harnesses, and secured tarps over their cargo. An older man with a gray beard and a walking stick appeared to be giving orders.

"Dalen?" Xavier asked, approaching him.

The man turned, assessing Xavier with sharp brown eyes. "Who’s asking?"

"Xavien. Lukas sent me."

Dalen’s expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. "Lukas, eh?"

"He said you might have room for passengers to Hearthome."

"Did he now?" Dalen tapped his walking stick against the frozen ground. "How many?"

"Two passengers."

"You and who else?"

"My traveling companion. She’ll meet us here."

Dalen studied him for a moment longer. "We leave in an hour, with or without you. Find Efler. She handles new passengers. Red wagon, that way."

Xavier followed his direction to a wagon painted deep crimson. A woman sat on its edge, sharpening a short sword. She didn’t look up at his approach.

"Dalen sent me. Said you handle new passengers."

The woman—Efler—tested the sword’s edge with her thumb. Satisfied, she sheathed it and finally looked up.

Xavier’s breath caught. Her face—high cheekbones, sharp jaw, golden eyes—looked familiar.

"Something on my face?" Efler asked, her tone suggesting this wasn’t the first time she’d caught someone staring.

Xavier recovered quickly. "No. Sorry. You reminded me of someone."

"I get that a lot." She hopped down from the wagon. Up close, she stood nearly as tall as Xavier. "Name?"

"Xavien."

"Efler." She extended a hand, which Xavier shook. "You’re with Lukas?"

"He recommended your caravan."

Efler nodded. "The man has good taste, I’ll give him that. We’re the fastest route to Hearthome this time of year. You said ’we’—who else is coming?"

"My..." Xavier hesitated. What was Naomi to him now? Friend? Lover? Accomplice? "My companion. She’ll be here soon."

"She better be. We don’t wait for stragglers." Efler gestured to the wagon. "You’ll ride with me. It’s cramped, but warmer than walking."

"Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet. Two weeks through mountain passes with winter beasts hunting the roads? You might wish you’d stayed in Vykengard." She climbed back onto the wagon and resumed sharpening a different blade, this one a curved dagger. "Get your things sorted. We leave when Dalen gives the word."

Xavier nodded and stepped away, scanning the area. No need to go to the stable yet they still had time. He found a crate to sit on and watched the caravan’s preparations, noting the number of armed guards—six that he could see—and how they positioned themselves around the wagons. These people expected trouble.

Xavier reached into his pocket and felt the small leather pouch Rachel had given him. When you reach the crossroads, burn this. It will help with the pain.

What crossroads? Literal or metaphorical? With Rachel, it could be either.

A shout from the gate drew his attention. Two guards were arguing with someone—a woman with purple hair.

Naomi.

Xavier stood and hurried over. As he got closer, he could hear the guards refusing her entry to the caravan area.

"—don’t care who you say you are," one guard was saying. "You need proper authorization."

"I told you," Naomi snapped, "my companion already paid for both of us. Xavien. Ask him yourself."

"It’s fine," Xavier said as he approached. "She’s with me."

The guards exchanged glances. "You vouch for her?"

"I do."

They stepped aside reluctantly. Naomi pushed past them, shooting Xavier an irritated look.

"Took you long enough," she said when they were out of earshot.

"I got here early. What happened to meeting at the stables?"

"Change of plans." Naomi glanced around at the caravan. "I was at the tanner’s getting water skins when I overheard someone mention the caravan was leaving early. Something about weather in the passes."

Xavier frowned. "Early? Dalen told me midday."

"Well, someone’s lying." Naomi adjusted the pack on her shoulder. "Did you arrange our passage?"

"Yes."

"Good. I’ve got the horses and supplies waiting at the eastern stables. We just need to get them and join the caravan."

Xavier hesitated. "About that. I’m not sure we need the horses anymore."

Naomi’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"The caravan has wagons. We’ll be riding in them."

"And you just decided this without consulting me?"

"I didn’t know until I got here... it seemed like the better option."

Naomi’s jaw tightened. "So I just wasted one hundred and eighty silver on horses we don’t need?"

"We might still need them if we come back."

"If they’re even there when we return! Do you have any idea what happens to unclaimed horses in a stable for two weeks?"

He lowered his voice. "Keep it down. We don’t want to draw attention."

"Too late for that." Naomi glared at him. "You should have waited for me before making arrangements."

"And you should have waited at the stables like we agreed."

Naomi’s eyes flashed dangerously, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. The muscle in her jaw twitched as she took a half-step closer, and he started bracing for an explosion that would probably wake half the town.

Ah... I fucked up.

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