TravelingDreamer
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Chapter 24: Sometimes Slow is Nice
🕑 Added 2024-05-01 20:30:52 +0000 UTCI took out my bike and attached the trailer. Stretch bounced in before I finished locking the frame, his tail wagging so hard it smacked the side. We set off under a pale blue sky streaked with morning clouds. The road stretched ahead in long, dusty curves, flanked by low hills and patches of golden grass. Birds circled overhead, and once, Stretch barked at a pair of rabbit-analogs that hopped across the road.
After six hours of riding, my thighs burned, and my calves trembled. A cool breeze brushed against my sweat-damp shirt. I pulled off to the side and set up camp by a stream. Casting Heal Muscle brought a wave of tingling relief that rolled through my legs and up my spine. Stretch curled up by the fire, half-asleep, his ears twitching at the night sounds. After a simple dinner, I lay down beside him and slept beneath the stars.
Around lunchtime, we spotted a caravan in the distance, and I suspected it was the same one we had encountered earlier. In four days, they had covered a distance that took me less than a full day—they were moving at a snail's pace!
As we rolled past the creaking line of carts, a cluster of children perked up from their seats.
“Shrech!” one of them shouted, pressing his face to the wooden railing.
“Candy!” another called out, bouncing in place as their cart jolted forward.
“Candy man’s back!” another squealed.
“Got any more?” a fourth called out, already holding out grubby hands in blind optimism.
I reached into my Storage and lobbed a few wrapped sweets their way. They scrambled to catch them with gleeful squeals and clumsy hands.
The parents did not share the enthusiasm. One mother pursed her lips so tightly it looked painful. A man further down slowly turned his head to glare at me over his shoulder, the disapproval rolling off him in waves. Another woman narrowed her eyes, arms folded.
I offered them my most innocent smile and kept pedaling, whistling under my breath.
Nothing like a sugar rush to liven up a long trip.
When we reached the head of the procession, I slowed down and stopped by the caravan leader. He glanced up from a document he was studying, his expression brightening when he saw me.
"John! Good to see you again," he greeted warmly.
"Hey there," I replied, feeling the day's journey in my legs as I shifted on my bike seat. "Just wanted to check if everyone here is doing well. Does anyone need my help?"
He straightened up, eyes scanning his caravan. "We're all fine, thank you. No problems so far," he assured me with a nod.
"That's good to hear. We're headed to the nearest town. How about you? Where are you headed?"
"Ah, we're also heading there. At our pace, we might reach it in four or five days."
I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "Really? I might arrive tomorrow late evening or the next day before lunch."
He chuckled, a deep, hearty sound. "Yes, we do move quite slowly, don't we? Traveling with children and all the wagons takes time."
I smiled and nodded, understanding the challenge. "Well, I'll see you in town then."
With that, I waved goodbye. He returned the gesture with a warm smile. Stretch and I continued on our way, leaving the caravan behind.
On the third day of our journey, we arrived at our destination. The caravan leader called it a town, but in my opinion, it resembled a large village more than a town. The main road ran through the center, packed dirt with shallow cart ruts and a few flat stones near the entrances to the buildings. On both sides stood four or five shops—weathered wooden structures with hand-painted signs. There was a smithy, a general store, what appeared to be a bakery, a pottery shop, and a place selling barrels. Smoke curled up from chimneys, and the scent of fresh bread mixed with the sharper tang of iron, ash, and manure.
Side streets branched off the main road on both sides, lined with small houses. Most had vegetable gardens in the front and sheds or pens in the back. A few had chicken analogs wandering around. Laundry hung from ropes between porches, and one house had a pair of boots drying on a fence post.
Beyond the houses, the cultivated fields started. Long rows of crops stretched out in both directions, with workers moving between them. Irrigation ditches, small water towers, and troughs were set at intervals. A few kids sat by the roadside, watching us arrive with little curiosity.
When I put my bike away, Stretch was very disappointed. He hung his head and tail, and looked at me sideways with sad puppy dog eyes. Cute.
I asked a passerby where I could find the inn. Even though I cast my Clean spell and washed in streams and rivers here and there, I really wanted a nice hot bath.
Stepping into the inn felt like stepping into a scene from a storybook. The long common room welcomed me with wooden tables and chairs, and a roaring fireplace at the far end cast a warm, flickering light. On the left side, a long bar lined with barrels stood, behind which an innkeeper with an enormous belly and red face diligently cleaned a metal cup with a towel. It looked so perfectly "fantasy land" that I couldn't help but smile.
The innkeeper noticed me and smiled wide. "Hello there, stranger."
"Hello," I replied, stepping closer to the bar. "How much is a room, a meal, and a hot bath?"
"The room is three coppers a night, the meal two coppers, and a bath is two coppers if you want it in the room. If you don't mind the common washroom, it's one copper," he explained, leaning on the bar with a friendly grin.
"Do you mind if my dog stays with me in my room?" I asked, glancing down at Stretch, who sniffed around the room curiously.
"No. It's your dog, do whatever you want with it," he said, waving a hand dismissively.
"Great. I'll take three nights, three meals a day, and a hot bath every evening in my room," I decided, feeling the need for some comfort after days on the road.
"That will be three silvers and three coppers. Do you want me to feed your dog?"
"No, I have food for him," I said, summoning one pouch with coppers. I counted out thirty-three coins and handed them over.
He examined the coins closely, eyebrows raised. "Never seen coins like these. Where are you from?"
"Across the sea.”
He let out a soft laugh. "Fancy stuff. Bigger too. Should charge you less, not more."
"Keep the change," I said with a smile.
He blinked. "Change what?"
"Just an expression. Means you can keep the extra."
"Ah. Got it," he said, and tucked them away.
"Also, can you change copper to silver or gold?" I asked.
"The same coins?" he asked, his interest clearly piqued.
"Yes."
"I'll be happy to do that.”
"How much gold and silver do you have?" I asked.
He gave me a strange look, his expression growing wary. Realizing how my words might sound, I quickly added, "Don't worry, I'm not trying to rob you. I'm a healer—I heal, not harm. I just have a lot of copper." Taking out ten pouches of copper from my Storage, I showed him the contents. "I'll even give you the pouches as a gift to apologize for alarming you."
His face relaxed into a smile, and he nodded. "Alright."
He counted all the copper, his fingers moving swiftly as he tallied the coins. After a few moments, he nodded and handed me four gold and ten silver coins.
"Here you go," he said, passing the coins over with a friendly smile.
"Thanks," I replied, storing the coins. "Can I get my key now? I want my bath right away."
"Of course," he said, reaching under the counter and producing a small brass key. He handed it to me, adding, "Your room is up the stairs, third door on the left."
I thanked him again and headed upstairs to my room. Inside, a wave of embarrassment washed over me. That comment about his money had probably been inappropriate. There was no real need for more coins; I already had plenty of gold from the mage. It was just curiosity that made me ask about the coppers and whether they could be exchanged.
An hour later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find the innkeeper standing there, a big wooden tub in his arms. He must have seen my surprised expression, because he chuckled.
"Expecting metal, were you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I didn't realize tubs could be made from wood," I admitted, stepping aside to let him in.
"Live and learn," he said with a grin as he set the tub in the middle of the room. His wife appeared behind him, carrying two steaming buckets of hot water.
"We'll be back with more," she said with a warm smile, her cheeks flushed from the heat. They left quickly, again promising to return soon with additional buckets to fill the tub.
After my tub was full, I slipped in and relaxed until the water was almost cold. Stretch tried to drink the bath water, so I gave him water and lunch. He looked at the raw meat unimpressed, then at me. I could almost see the question marks in his eyes.
"Listen, buddy, right now, when we are staying in town, I don't want them to see me feeding you mana-rich meat. I don't know how they'll react, so I can't cook it for you in the inn. Eat raw today, and tomorrow we will go into the forest, make a fire, and I'll cook you burgers for a week. What do you say?"
He looked at me for a couple of seconds and started eating. Right. That was on me. I always cooked for both of us, but it hadn’t clicked that I wouldn’t be cooking while we were in town.
After a long soak and a change of clothes, I headed down to the common room. Lunch was a thick root stew, mostly turnip and something that might’ve been carrot, with a few tough bits of meat floating near the bottom. Decent enough.
While I was finishing the bowl, I flagged down the innkeeper. “Is there a butcher in town? Or maybe a tanner or hunter?”
He scratched his chin. “No tanner. No hunters, either, not in town. But we’ve got a butcher. Ervil. You'll find him on the second street to the left of the main road. Small place with a red awning and a few hooks out front. Smells like blood.”
“Perfect,” I said, setting my bowl aside. “Thanks.”
He nodded and went back to polishing mugs.
The butcher was a burly man with a grizzled beard, busy at work in a shop that reeked of blood. The innkeeper hadn’t been joking.
"Hello there," I called out, trying to catch his attention over the rhythmic thud of his cleaver.
He glanced up, his eyes narrowing. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.
"I'm John. I'm looking to learn how to butcher a carcass," I said, meeting his gaze.
He wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head. "I don't have time to teach you. Got enough work as it is.”
I took out a bowl full of mana-rich goat meat, holding it out for him to see. His eyes widened, and he leaned in for a closer look.
"What's that?"
"Mana-rich goat meat. I can give you six Saks of this in exchange for teaching me," I offered, observing his reaction.
He stroked his beard, considering the offer. "Six Saks, huh?" He looked me up and down, then back at the meat. "Alright, you've got yourself a deal. Three days, during my routine work."
"Deal. When do we start?"
He pointed to a nearby carcass. "Now. Grab an apron, and let's get to it."
I quickly donned an apron and joined him at the table, ready to learn. "What is your name?"
"Hetton, but everybody calls me Hett."
"Nice to meet you, Hett, I'm John."
"You told me that already."
Right.
I rubbed my neck in embarrassment, and he laughed.
Hett's initial reluctance melted away as he began explaining the process, and we dove into the work immediately.
The next morning, we rode out to the forest early. Just a few meters in, we found a quiet spot, and I built a fire. I made breakfast for Stretch, which he inhaled, then finished cooking the rest of the bison and goat meat. With over fifty hefty burgers cooked and packed and the coolers cleaned out, we returned to town for my second day as a butcher’s apprentice.
For the next two days, I worked alongside Hett and learned how to butcher. It turned out to be a lot more involved than I had expected. Each day blurred into a haze of blood, bone, and Hett’s gruff corrections. The man rarely spoke unless I was doing something wrong, and then he had plenty to say. My hands were sore, my back ached, and my apron stayed clean for less than two minutes, but I learned. Slowly, messily, but I learned.
On my third day in town, the caravan finally reached it. During the day, Stretch disappeared instead of dozing just outside the door. When I went looking for him, I found him soaking up the kids' pets and admiration. I found Sami to say hello, and she invited me for dinner.
"And this time, you are not going near the fire," she said as I accepted the invitation.
The caravan leader approached me, concern etched on his face as he motioned for me to join him away from the bustle of people arranging the space. I followed, wondering what could trouble him.
"John," he began, his voice low and urgent, "one of our guards got injured. Would you be willing to help him?"
"Of course.”
Relief washed over his face, though he still looked worried. He gestured towards where the injured guard was resting. I followed him to the guard's side, where the injured man lay grimacing in pain. The guard winced as I examined his legs, which were covered in bite marks, some of them looking quite infected.
"Hold still. This might tingle a bit," I said, placing my hands over the worst wounds. He nodded, gritting his teeth in anticipation.
I cast Healing Touch, feeling the familiar warmth flow from my hands into his wounds. His muscles relaxed, but the infection was stubborn. "I'll need to cast it a few more times," I informed him, moving my hands to the next cluster of bites.
He grunted in response, pain etched on his face. I cast Healing Touch again, followed by Fortify Life Force to boost his recovery. It took quite a lot of casts, but the wounds finally closed, and the redness of the infection faded.
"There, that should do it," I said, wiping the blood from my hands. "Those bites were nasty. What happened?"
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I was digging a garbage hole," he explained, his voice tinged with frustration. "Didn't see the nest of jurbers until it was too late."
"Jurbers?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Those green, small creatures, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah, vicious little things with sharp teeth. They got me good."
An idea struck me, and I leaned in closer. "Can you tell me exactly where the nest is?"
His eyes widened, and he shook his head vigorously. "I wouldn't go near them if I were you. They might be small, but they're ferocious."
"I appreciate the warning," I said, nodding. "But I think I can handle them. Just point me in the right direction."
Reluctantly, he gave me the location, his face still lined with concern. "Be careful, John. They're more dangerous than they look."
"Thanks, I'll be cautious," I told him, mentally marking the spot. I remembered the jurber I had encountered—small, green, and easy to kill. The Archive confirmed that kill notifications only appeared for monsters, not animals or beasts. That meant jurbers were monsters, and I wasn’t harming innocent creatures. Well, semi-innocent. With how aggressively they bit, I wouldn't call them innocent even if they were just animals. As I walked away, a mix of excitement and determination settled over me. This could be a great chance to advance my looting spell.
I joined Sami for dinner, letting her take the lead as she cooked over the campfire. The flames flickered and danced, casting a warm glow on her face as she worked. Her hands moved deftly, handling the ingredients with ease, confident even in the rustic setting.
She served us a type of kebab called poonk, a local specialty. The aroma was mouthwatering, and I couldn't help but smile. "This smells amazing," I said, settling down on a log near the fire.
Sami beamed at the compliment. "I'm glad you think so. It's one of my favorites," she said, sitting across from me, the firelight reflecting in her eyes.
We started eating, and the conversation flowed naturally. "So, what's the deal with the caravan?" I asked between bites. "It's massive."
Sami nodded, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin. "Most of the people are traveling merchants. They move between the kingdoms of Mara and Somer. The crown symbols on the wagons mark the capitals."
I leaned back, digesting both the food and the information. "And the rest?" I prompted.
"People traveling for various reasons," she continued. "Some don't want to travel alone. Others are looking for work along the caravan's route."
As we talked, I learned more about Sami. She was on her way home to her husband and kids after visiting her parents, who lived two towns away from where I met the caravan.
"How did you end up with a broken leg?" I asked.
She laughed softly, though there was a hint of embarrassment in her posture. "I fell off the hayloft while helping my father clean the barn," she admitted. "Not my finest moment."
We both laughed, the mood light and comfortable. Eventually, the conversation turned more personal. Sami spoke fondly of her husband and children, her eyes lighting up as she described them.
My chest tightened, and I looked away from the fire. "I had a wife once," I said, my voice softening. "Her death hit me hard."
Sami looked surprised. "You don't look older than twenty," she said, her brows knitting in confusion.
"I'm twenty-five," I clarified with a small smile. "I married very young."
I told her about Sophie. How we met, the odd little habits she had, and the way she used to hum when she was deep in thought. The words came easier than I expected. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire or the way Sami listened without interruption, her expression open and kind. It felt good to speak of Sophie, not as a wound to hide, but as someone who had been a part of me.
The ache was still there, somewhere deep in the background, but it didn’t grip me like it used to. I found myself smiling as I shared the smaller, sillier stories. The time she accidentally burned the curtain, or how she insisted on naming every stray cat that crossed our path. I laughed more than I thought I would, and for once, the memories brought more warmth than hurt.
The evening drifted by in gentle rhythm, wrapped in quiet conversation and the comfort of shared food. Eventually, the fire burned lower, and Stretch yawned behind me.
"Goodnight, Sami," I said, standing up from the log, my voice softer than before.
"Goodnight, John," she replied warmly.
I found the caravan leader and wished him goodnight. The mage approached me again, her expression hopeful. "Still not selling the unique boxes?" she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.
I shook my head with a chuckle. "Nope, not today," I said, patting her shoulder reassuringly before heading back to the inn.
As I returned to my room, I reflected on the past three days. They were slow, but in a good way. It was a nice, grounded experience.
