As dusk began to fall along the road, we set up camp in an open area that had been cleared in advance to allow traveling merchants and wayfarers a place to rest.
More specifically, it was the traveling merchants who had joined forces with us who were now setting up their tents, lighting fires, and preparing to see the night through.
“Hey, Erich, good work as always!”
“Wow, you’re quick as ever!”
“That’s the spirit – keep it up!”
After finishing the preparations for the campfire and quickly kindling a solid blaze, I was approached by various armed mercenaries of different races, who then transferred the flames to their torches or lanterns before dispersing around the perimeter to keep watch.
Currently, I was traveling as a low-cost participant with said traveling merchants. The advantage of traveling merchants is that they travel in large numbers – the more people there are, the safer the journey becomes. Thus, these last-minute joiners were, to a certain extent, welcomed.
Bandits and wild animals aren’t foolish. They shy away from attacking groups too large to handle swiftly for fear of retaliation. Moreover, with a larger group comes more options for dealing with trouble, and the tedium of watch duties can be minimized with quick rotations, reducing fatigue.
Above all, when everyone contributes money, even noble mercenaries can be hired at a lower cost.
Manpower. Truly, manpower solves everything.
We had targeted one of the largest traveling merchant caravans with over a hundred participants, including merchants and their guards. Considering the typical size of domestic caravans was around thirty, the scale of this long-distance caravan, intended for foreign travel, was truly impressive.
Naturally, many people would want to join such a caravan for a safe journey. Consequently, only those who paid a substantial amount could expect the “customer” treatment.
While we weren’t lacking in funds, our roots lay in the common folk, and thriftiness was ingrained in us. So, we joined the caravan as day laborers, taking care of various odd jobs in exchange for a reduced travel fee.
Besides, it was clear we wouldn’t stay settled for more than a few days anyway.
It was like starting over as an apprentice.
There was plenty to do: tending to the horses and donkeys hauling the goods, loading and unloading cargo, preparing cooking fires, and doing washing. I completed all these tasks quickly with the quiet use of magic, earning a good reputation within the caravan.
After all, I hadn’t supplied the diligent labor that satisfies the nobility merely for show.
Carefully crafting my actions so that, from a distance, it seemed I was using a firebox to kindle the flames – and adjusting the power so that even a magic user nearby would have difficulty detecting it – I quickly transformed a small ember into a proper fire. The caravan’s size necessitated many such fires.
As the campfire smoke rose, the smell of cooking became more apparent. Thanks to the caravan leader bringing along a chef, even simple provisions and vegetables gathered on the journey were carefully prepared into delicious meals.
What a peaceful month this had been! No bandits, no horse thieves, and thanks to the caravan’s strict discipline, there were no foolish fights.
I often thought it would have been nice to start like this from the start. I loved adventures, but not the brawls and chaos associated with them.
“Hey, Erich! If you’re free, come give me a hand!”
“On my way!”
After finishing with the campfire, I went to help the chef who had called out to me. The stout pig demon chef, who had previously relied on servants, began seeking my help since I assisted with peeling vegetables and preparing meat a few weeks ago.
It turns out that people who truly know how to use a knife for cooking are surprisingly rare. The chef grumbled about how uneven cuts can ruin the cooking and how a poor cut affects the taste and texture, even as he produced a surprisingly delicious stew from an otherwise haphazard mix of ingredients.
I followed his instructions, peeling the ingredients and cutting them into uniform pieces with my work knife, occasionally trimming away any spoiled parts. After about half an hour of this work, my fingers stained black with vegetable juices made me long for rubber gloves from my previous life, but eventually, the cooking assistance was done.
After the cooking, we moved to serving, cleaning up, and washing dishes – usually by a nearby stream since campsites were typically located near water sources. Running around doing all these chores, I didn’t notice the moon rising high above, nearly hiding the faint light of the God of Night’s shadow. Meanwhile, the hidden moon waxed, nearing its full circle.
Its darkness was reminiscent of a chasm in the night sky.
Turning away from that ominous and somewhat eerie moon, I stretched, feeling the pleasant relief of loosening up my stiff back from crouching over the dishes. Ah, the tiredness of labor is truly fulfilling when it makes you feel accomplished.
In my past life, I might have taken a break with a can of coffee during moments like this, but in a world without vending machines, let alone coffee beans, all I could do was take a short rest. But with the feeling of notable figures lurking around, it made me wonder – was there anyone among them who hadn’t yet ventured out in search of the new continent? Black tea wasn’t bad, but without it, the longing for the bitterness of coffee became unbearable.
Thus, those who’ve never had tonkatsu don’t yearn for its taste, but knowing luxury can be a trying experience.
I exhaled a puff of smoke and returned to the camp while brushing past the invisible fairies drawn by the full moon. After starting to prepare for bed, I slipped under the assigned cargo bed where a small heap of blankets lay.
“Margit, it’s time.”
It was, in fact, my childhood friend sleeping snugly under the blankets.
“Mmm…?”
Gently shaking her shoulder, her head, partially exposed from the blanket, stirred, revealing her slightly grumpy but sleepy face. Like a cat begrudgingly disturbed from a nap, she opened her amber eyes and sat up.
Wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes and stretching as if shedding a cocoon, she had an uncanny resemblance to a cat despite her spider-like traits.
“Good evening, Erich. Is it already this time?”
“Yes, your dinner is waiting. I’ve kept it warm.”
Handing her the dinner I’d kept warm with a preservation spell, her posture corrected after her siesta.
She wasn’t napping because she was idle; rather, she was preparing herself for important work ahead.
Spiderfolk often have the “Night Vision” trait. Active during night or in areas like forests where light doesn’t easily reach, they can read in ancient texts even under the cover of new moon. Hence, they were perfect for night watch.
Margit, with her skills as a hunter, was exceptionally good at spotting things from a distance. She was therefore assigned the job of night watch for the caravan. Additionally, during the brief setup of the campsite, Margit would venture into the forest to hunt – often to save expenses and gather food along the way.
It was the concept of “right man for the right job.” Her small frame wasn’t suited to heavy lifting, but she excelled at other roles. I took on odd jobs as a handyman, and she acted as our vigilant night watch.
I worked during the day and rested under her protection at night, while she slept during our travels and worked at night. This rhythm was something I believed wouldn’t change even when we became adventurers someday.
“This evening will be peaceful, I hope.”
“Yes, I wish for the same.”
“Rest assured, I won’t allow anything to disturb your peaceful slumber.”
After finishing the hearty, rough but flavorful stew, Margit donned her night camouflage outfit, peculiar to spiderfolk, and silently slipped off the wagon to join the patrol rotation around the camp, filling the gaps left by the guards.
I, wrapped in the warm blanket, decided it was time to sleep. The wagon bed wasn’t as comfortable as an inn’s mattress but was much better than the ground. Above all, this was one essential skill of a good adventurer – the ability to sleep anywhere.
Indeed, the ability to sleep anywhere is a universal trait of good adventurers……
Though by luck, I was skeptical. While enjoying the peace, I prepared for the inevitable upheavals.
A large-scale caravan could be attacked by immense gangs. Unfortunate entanglements in sudden internal conflicts. Being ensnared by corrupt magistrates who arbitrarily set checkpoints and incite disputes.
And worst of all, ancient dragons that randomly descend from the sky!
In this world, anything can happen if the dice or the twenty-sided die are in a foul mood. My experiences of being reincarnated as a complete stranger with identical names and abilities are far more than I can count on my fingers.
So I had braced myself for something to happen.
However……
“Too bad! You could stay with us if you like!”
“Isn’t that right? You worked so well, we would like to take you on as a shop assistant. Wouldn’t you like to reconsider? For a couple, we’ll make special arrangements at our place, too.”
Thus, when we declared our intentions to leave the caravan near our destination, it created this awkward feeling as the caravan leaders and friends we’d made expressed their regret at our departure.
It was difficult to describe — both gratifying and a little frustrating, and yet, it made me want to ask, “Did we forget something?”
No, no, I understood this was how things were supposed to be. I was sane enough to recognize that the beginning period, working as Lady Agrippina’s attendant, had been unusual.
Nevertheless, when it came time to inform the caravan’s leaders of our departure, it was a peculiar sensation to be bid farewell by those who’d treated us like family for the past two months.
“Thank you very much for the offer. However…”
“It’s the dream of a lifetime, isn’t it?”
The dwarf couple, whose energetic demeanor belied their small stature, held our hands, extending an invitation we’d be hard-pressed to refuse under normal circumstances.
They were procurement agents for a ceramics merchant with a main store in the state capital of a certain administrative district. The caravan was heading through the western frontier region, over the western stronghold of Seine Kingdom, all the way to the Pyrinian Alliance Council, on the coast of the Greenwestern Sea, to procure their unique ceramics — a blend of local and western aesthetics.
It indeed seemed they’d always need trustworthy hands to transport their delicate cargo, such as the many delicate items planned to be sold along the way. Transporting ceramics over land routes demanded careful handling, which made diligent laborers valuable.
Traveling through two countries, it could, in itself, be an adventure of grand proportions. Experiencing unfamiliar languages, encountering advanced foreign technologies, and indulging in new tastes – surely that would be a fantastic adventure.
However, it wasn’t quite what I loved.
After expressing our gratitude and turning down their offer politely, we gathered our belongings and bid farewell to the caravan. Having spent two months together, we’d made many familiar faces and friends. Our two horses, Castor and Polydeuces, who had been loaned to us as draft horses, seemed to be saying their farewells to their fellow horses as well.
Such calm and peaceful days were a rarity in my memory, except from our childhood peaceful life at Königsstuhl Manor. Even during the relatively peaceful phase when I was apprenticing at the imperial capital, working always kept it busy.
When could we experience such tranquility again?
We stood at the fork in the road and watched the caravan till their figures faded from view. They were bypassing Marsheim for the border, so this was where we parted ways.
With a sense of refreshing anticipation, we watched them leave and climbed up to the crest of the road’s high fork to take in the expanse of the world ahead.
The rolling green terrain stretched out before us like a vast sea, interspersed with dense, untamed forests. In the distance, the city walls surrounded the urban centers. We were finally here – the Western Frontier District, more popularly known as Enderede, with the administrative capital of Marsheim.
The landmark castle, centrally located in the city, was compact yet sturdy, appearing very reliable at a glance. Together with the distant outposts towering among the mountains, it gave a strong impression of fortified defenses, just as befitting its legendary reputation of turning back an army of fifty thousand with only eight thousand.
As an entry point to the Western Allied Satellite States and the crucial defensive point on the furthest frontier, the thriving towns were bustling with smoke from chimneys, clearly showing active economic activities. Sparse smoke from cooking fires often indicates a struggling town, making it easy to see the vibrant scene in Marsheim from a distance.
And what truly captured the eye was the sheer number of people coming and going. From individual merchants carrying luggage to large caravans with wagons, they gathered at three of the city’s four grand gates. Equally striking was the vast number of boats navigating the majestic Mauzer River flowing north of the city.
Isn’t this the very image of wealth arriving from distant lands?
The mere anticipation of heading there filled me with excitement.
Though the capital Bearlin was prosperous, its growth was more of a calculated, politically driven prosperity. Built under meticulous urban planning, it included only the necessary elements, carefully excluding everything deemed superfluous.
Under the control of the Threefold Empire, it was a meticulously planned city that left no room for error.
Except for the Magic Academy, of course.
Within the halls of the academy, the time-honored mage jokes aside, the prosperity before our eyes was the result of a deliberately loose framework where minimal limits were set and everything else was left to natural growth.
The fierce competition within this loose order was evident even from afar, evidenced by shops that opened to great fanfare one day and shuttered the next.
“Seems delighted, doesn’t she?”
Having been unconsciously absorbed by the vibrant energy of the frontier, Margit brought me back to reality, as ever, thanks to her steadfast presence, much like a backpack stuck to my back. Had she not been there, I might have stood there gazing at the city until my legs grew weary.
“Gazing at the sights is like admiring a feast in painting – satisfying to the eyes but not to the stomach. The true worth of a place can’t be fully gauged just by looking.”
“I know.”
Embarrassed, I replied with a slightly petulant tone. It wasn’t as though I had ever aimed to outdo anyone, but it felt awkward to reveal my weaknesses.
It was unavoidable. Men, no matter how old they grow, are just children who’ve learned to put on facades. Who could resist being stirred by the sight of such excitement?
“Well, shall we head out? To our new city.”
“Yes!”
Margit, understanding me well, naturally extended her invitation. It was alright to let loose a bit, she was indicating; she’d find it endearing. After all, appearing every bit fifteen years old outwardly, our spirit could indulge in the freedom of youthful exuberance without detection.
I promptly led our beloved horses down the hill toward the new land of adventure……
