My Knight Rescuer is a Jerk! So Why should I ignore the Prince?
"Always remember, no matter how much a fae may seem like they experience emotions, no matter how human like a fae may behave...a fae can never be a human." The Keybearer. A young maiden from another world foretold by ancient prophesy, destined to collect the seven keys and save the world. Surely that's the kind of story that finds some plucky high schooler dreaming of adventure and whisks them off to find their true love, right? Overworked salary women like Emily have long passed the point where such fantasies can come true, and even if they did, it's not like she'd know the first thing about what to do. ...So of course, nobody even bothered to ask her before dropping her into an entirely new world full of magic and danger. Like the three hungry orcs eyeing her as soon as she wakes up. "What do you mean I can sense the keys if I use magic?! What magic?!" If Emily could, she'd have immediately issued a rejection letter, but unfortunately, the only way back is to finish her quest somehow. But it's not all danger and confusion. The knight who rushed into battle to save her is charming and kind and gorgeous, and the beautiful and lonely prince has a soft and kind smile only for her. If everyone she meets along the way is like them... Well. It can't be that bad, right? "...--I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED BY A PAINTING?!"
One Hundred and Forty-Sixth
They watched for a little while longer.
It wasn't as simple as just watching the display, though. Once they caught up to where they'd gotten without the help of a recording, they had to pause the recording and find a stone slab that might correspond with their position.
If they did, or if they didn't, find something they'd move it forward until their positions meaningfully changed, and then look again.
It was long, slow, and tedious work.
But it was infinitely better than trying to remember their exact steps retraced in slab format.
It felt like an eternity that they were doing it...
And they were all growing more and more tired by the second.
She kept Merwyn placated and cooperative by idly petting his hair as they sorted through the slabs.
It was shockingly effective.
All it took was a gentle stroke to the head and he would purr, cling, and grow pliable enough to cooperate for several minutes without any further fuss.