The young lord's voice cut through John's pain induced haze.
"You two. The walking disaster and Spud. Tend to the horses."
John blinked, still on the ground, his cheek pulsing with what he was increasingly certain was going to be a spectacular bruise. Spud. So the older volunteer had a name. Well, a nickname probably, because what kind of parent actually named their kid Spud? Then again, this was a fantasy world. Maybe Spud was a perfectly respectable name here, derived from some ancient hero or regional dialect.
He dragged himself to his feet, swaying slightly, and stumbled toward the horses. Spud was already there, moving with the kind of easy confidence that came from actually knowing what he was doing.
The contrast was immediate and painful.
The young lord addressed Spud with something that almost approached civility. Not friendliness, exactly, but a distinct absence of active hostility. "Spud, make sure they're watered. We'll be here for a while."
"Yes, m'lord." Spud's voice was steady, respectful but not groveling.
Meanwhile, when the lord looked at John, his lip curled like he'd discovered something rotting in his boot.
John moved to help with the horses, though help was a generous term for his clumsy attempts to look useful. Spud handled the reins and started guiding the horses toward a small stream visible through the trees. John followed, trying to mimic Spud's movements and mostly succeeding in getting in the way.
They were far enough from the lord that John felt brave enough to mutter under his breath, "Are you two fucking or something?"
He meant it as a joke, mostly. A way to process the obvious favoritism through his particular brand of socially inappropriate humor. But the words hung in the air, and John immediately regretted them.
Spud didn't react beyond a slight quirk of his eyebrow.
It was the younger kid, the sixteen year old who'd been quiet this whole time, who responded. He'd followed them to the stream, apparently also part of the horse tending crew.
"You'd be surprised how many of the lords have favorites," the kid said, his voice low and conspiratorial. There was something in his tone, a knowing quality that made John look at him more closely. "If you understand what I mean. Hehe."
The laugh was odd, performatively casual, the kind of laugh that suggested he was sharing insider information.
John found himself laughing too, an automatic "hehe" that mirrored the kid's tone. It felt like bonding, like maybe he'd found someone who understood the weird social dynamics of this place. Shared misery and all that.
The horses drank from the stream, and for a moment there was almost peace. Just the sound of water and the distant rustle of leaves and the steady breathing of large animals who didn't care about class systems or favorites or proper kneeling techniques.
Then, of course, the young lord's voice shattered the moment.
"What are you fools giggling about? Do you find something amusing about serving your betters?"
All three of them straightened immediately, the brief moment of camaraderie evaporating like morning dew.
"Nothing, m'lord," Spud said smoothly.
"Just discussing the horses, m'lord," the younger kid added.
John wisely kept his mouth shut, having learned through repeated facial trauma that speaking without permission was a terrible idea.
The lord studied them for a long moment, his eyes lingering on each face like he was cataloging their sins for later punishment. Then he made a dismissive gesture.
"Mount up. We're moving into the forest. Spud, you'll drive. The rest of you try not to fall off and crack your skulls, though honestly that might improve some of you."
Mount up.
Ride the horses.
John stared at the massive animal in front of him and felt a new kind of dread settle in his stomach. He'd never ridden a horse in his life. He'd never even been near a horse before today unless you counted the petting zoo he'd visited when he was seven, and that pony had been approximately one tenth the size of these monsters.
Spud was already swinging up onto the driver's seat of the carriage with practiced ease. The younger kid managed to clamber onto one of the riding horses with only minor awkwardness.
John approached his assigned horse like it might explode.
"Um," he said quietly. "How do I..."
The horse turned its head and looked at him with large, dark eyes that seemed to communicate profound disappointment.
"Left foot in stirrup, swing right leg over, try not to die," Spud called back, already settling into position.
Right. Simple. Just like mounting a bicycle except the bicycle was a thousand pound animal with opinions.
John grabbed the saddle, shoved his left foot into the stirrup, and tried to haul himself up. He made it about halfway before his arms gave out and he slithered back down. Second attempt went better, mostly because the horse seemed to take pity on him and stood very, very still while he flailed his way into the saddle.
Once up, he clung to the saddle horn like it was the only thing keeping him from flying off into space.
The young lord had already started walking into the forest, his ridiculous ornamental sword resting casually against his side, the blade catching dappled sunlight through the trees.
"Move," Spud said, and snapped the reins.
The horses lurched forward. John's stomach lurched with them. He gripped tighter, his knuckles white, his thighs clenching around the horse's barrel in what was probably exactly the wrong technique.
They moved into the forest at a steady walk, following the lord's confident stride. The trees closed in around them, old growth with thick trunks and heavy canopy that filtered the light into greenish gold. It was beautiful in a way John would have appreciated if he wasn't desperately trying not to fall off his horse.
Minutes passed. Five, then ten. The forest grew denser, quieter. The kind of quiet that felt pregnant with possibility, or danger, or both.
The young lord stopped.
His hand went to his sword hilt, not drawing, just resting there with the casual readiness of someone who knew how to use it.
John's heart started racing.
This was it.
Something was about to happen.
Finally.
After hours of walking and abuse and humiliation, something was actually about to happen. A fight maybe, or a monster encounter, or a dramatic revelation. The actual adventure part of this isekai adventure was about to begin.
He sat up straighter in his saddle, ignoring the screaming protests from his inner thighs, and stared into the shadows between the trees.
Big fight incoming.