As the carriage rumbled along the uneven road, Nori groaned, gripping the edge of his seat. His stomach churned violently, and before he could stop himself, he leaned over and retched into the bucket beside him. His attendant, Yori, immediately rushed to his side, holding out a damp cloth.
"My lord, this is the fourth time today," Yori said, worry etched into his face. "At this rate, you'll collapse before we even reach the general."
Nori wiped his mouth, his face pale and sweaty. "I'm fine."
"You are not fine!" Yori protested. "You've been throwing up for days, barely eating, and your body is clearly exhausted. My lord, please—let us stop at the next town and find a doctor."
Nori shook his head firmly. "If we stop, the doctor will tell me to rest for a few days, and we don't have a few days. The soldiers need this food. The general needs this food. We must move forward."
Yori frowned. "And what use will you be to the general if you arrive too sick to stand?"
