Chapter 3: Second Week of Travel
Year 0004, Month I-III: The Imperium
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Day 10: A Meeting of Fates
With their four-day respite now behind them, the refreshed caravan had already begun to stir awake in their temporary camping site. The morning air carried the crisp scent of pine and dew-laden grass, a welcome change from the oppressive atmosphere that had plagued their earlier journey. Following their scheduled departure time, everyone performed their morning routines with practiced efficiency—some tending to the beasts of burden, others preparing a quick breakfast over carefully contained fires, and still others securing the last of their camping equipment.
The entire camp was methodically cleaned and organized as every piece of camping equipment was loaded onto the wagons with military precision. August watched with quiet satisfaction as his people—for that's how he'd come to think of them—worked together seamlessly. The bonds forged through shared hardship had created something stronger than mere cooperation; it was genuine camaraderie. With everything secured and accounted for, they began their second week of what would be a five-day journey home to Maya.
Of course, they had prepared as best they could to thwart any ambushes along the way. The forest paths were notorious for harboring bandits, desperate soldiers turned brigands, and other criminal elements who preyed upon travelers. August had positioned their sole forward scouts at the forefront, established communication signals, and ensured that their most capable fighters were distributed throughout the caravan's length. Yet despite these precautions, the day had been eerily quiet—so quiet that it felt as if the forest had somehow returned to its natural state, as if the darkness that had plagued these woods had simply vanished overnight.
The absence of birdsong was particularly unsettling. Even the usual rustle of small creatures in the underbrush seemed muted, creating an atmosphere of anticipation that set everyone's nerves on edge. The very air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something momentous to occur.
Halfway through their day's journey, an odd figure could be seen walking steadily toward their direction along the forest path. It was only one man—solitary against the backdrop of towering pines and ancient oaks. He wore travel-worn robes that might once have been a deep blue but had faded to an indeterminate gray-brown, a pointed hat that had seen better days, and carried a simple walking staff. His clothes were dusty and road-stained, clear evidence that he had been traveling for quite some time. But what struck Erik, their forward scout, as particularly strange was the man's complete isolation. Why would anyone, especially someone who appeared to be advanced in years, be traveling these dangerous roads alone?
The question gnawed at Erik as Rexy, his Grimfang companion, issued a low warning growl and alerted him to the approaching figure roughly a kilometer ahead of the main caravan. It was suspicious at best, and experience had taught them all to be wary of anything that seemed out of place. August, upon receiving Erik's report, made the tactical decision to send his scout ahead to investigate before the entire caravan committed to the encounter.
Erik, mounted on his bonded beast Rexy—a magnificent wolf the Grimfang whose brown fur shimmered with an otherworldly iridescence—rode forward to intercept the mysterious traveler. At first, Erik didn't think much of the person before him. The stranger appeared to be nothing more than an elderly wanderer, perhaps a hedge wizard or traveling scholar. What struck Erik as truly odd, however, was the man's complete lack of reaction to both him and his impressive mount. By now, most people would have shown some response—fear, curiosity, or at least acknowledgment—upon seeing a Grimfang and its rider approaching. These creatures were, after all, legendary beasts whose very presence commanded respect and often terror.
But this man simply continued walking as if he hadn't seen them at all, lost in his own world, his eyes focused on some distant point that existed only in his mind. His pace never varied, his expression remained distant and contemplative, and his staff tapped a steady rhythm against the packed earth of the road.
Concerned, Erik tried to hail the stranger. "Sir, may I know if you are well and where you might be traveling to?" His voice carried clearly in the still air, but no response came. The man didn't ignore him—it was as if Erik and his imposing mount simply didn't exist in whatever reality the stranger currently occupied. After several increasingly loud attempts to gain the man's attention, Erik retreated back to the caravan, a growing sense of unease settling in his stomach.
He reported to August that the man was completely unresponsive and seemed to be walking in some kind of trance or deep meditation. "It's like he's not really here," Erik explained, his weathered face creased with concern. "Not just ignoring us—actually not seeing us at all."
Several tense minutes passed before the convoy arrived at the point where their paths would cross. Every member of the caravan was on high alert, hands resting near weapons, eyes scanning for potential threats. August had learned through bitter experience not to trust too much in appearances. People with the strength to hide their true power could often appear as harmless as this elderly wanderer, and some of the most dangerous individuals he'd encountered had initially seemed the least threatening.
Judging from the stranger's attire and the runes barely visible on his staff, August surmised that the older man was likely a mage of some sort. But his disconnected state and apparent obliviousness to his surroundings presented a puzzle. Was this genuine detachment, or was it an elaborate facade concealing something far more dangerous?
To gather more information about this mysterious figure, August decided to use his SYSTEM's assessment capability—a power that had served him well in identifying potential threats and allies alike. But the moment he began to focus his otherworldly sight upon the stranger, something unprecedented occurred.
Suddenly, every instinct for survival he possessed screamed in unified alarm, and his SYSTEM assaulted him with a warning more urgent and terrifying than any he had ever received:
[SYSTEM: DANGER DANGER DANGER PLEASE AVOID EXTREMELY DANGEROUS PLEASE AVOID, DEATH IMMINENT]
The warning blazed across his consciousness in letters of fire, each word pulsing with an urgency that made his blood run cold. It had been only a handful of times that his system had reacted with such extreme alarm, and each previous occasion had involved beings or creatures with immense power—entities capable of killing him instantly or inflicting wounds that would never heal. But this warning was different, more primal in its terror. His system was alerting him that the person before them possessed the power to kill not just him, but everyone in the caravan, with what appeared to be minimal effort.
Before he could even attempt to gather any information about the mysterious figure, August closed his eyes and fought to calm his racing mind and thundering heart. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his back despite the pleasant temperature of the day. Everyone around him noticed the dramatic change in their leader—the strongest person on their team suddenly appeared genuinely terrified.
What happened next defied explanation and would be seared into the memory of every person present for the rest of their lives.
The atmosphere within a 200-meter radius of the robed figure began to shimmer with intense heat. To their heightened senses, it appeared as if a massive flame wreathed in the bones of some hellish creature had materialized, though they understood on some level that this was their minds struggling to interpret something beyond normal perception. The very air began to boil as sweat and moisture evaporated instantly from their skin and clothing. The ground beneath their feet trembled under an immense, invisible pressure, and what had been a pleasant forest breeze became a scorching wind that seared their lungs with each breath.
The beasts of burden—creatures that had faced down bandits and traversed treacherous mountain passes without flinching—were suddenly overcome with terror so profound that several collapsed entirely, while others strained against their harnesses in desperate attempts to flee. It was as if they had been confronted by some primal force of destruction, something that spoke to the deepest, most ancient fears encoded in their very DNA.
The message was unmistakably clear: they had somehow offended or disturbed someone who possessed the power to reduce everything within sight to ash and cinder without visible effort.
From Ben Flameswrath's perspective, the day had been proceeding much like any other in his long years of wandering. Lost in contemplation of arcane theories and half-remembered conversations from decades past, he had been walking in that meditative state that allowed his feet to find the path while his mind explored realms of pure thought. It was a skill developed over countless years of solitary travel, a way of making the endless miles pass without the crushing weight of loneliness and regret.
But suddenly, he felt a gaze upon him—not the casual glance of a curious traveler, but something far more invasive and powerful. It was a scrutiny so deep and otherworldly that it seemed to pierce through every layer of his being, examining not just his physical form but his very essence. The sensation was unlike anything he had experienced in his long life, and it triggered an immediate, instinctual defensive response that he had no conscious control over.
Power that had been carefully contained for decades suddenly blazed forth like a star going nova. The ground beneath his feet began to smolder and crack, the stones themselves beginning to melt under the intensity of heat that radiated from his form. His walking staff, which had appeared to be nothing more than a worn piece of oak, shed its mundane disguise like a snake shedding its skin, revealing the true artifact beneath—a conduit of such potent magical force that the air around it sang with barely contained energy.
In that moment of instinctual reaction, Ben realized with growing horror how close he had come to complete catastrophe. If he hadn't managed to reassert control over his power within those crucial few seconds, everything within a ten-kilometer radius would have been instantly incinerated. Beyond that, in a circle extending more than a hundred kilometers in every direction, the very earth would have burned with flames that might have persisted for centuries, creating a wasteland that would serve as a permanent scar upon the world.
The political ramifications alone would have been devastating. He could hardly explain to the Empire of Elms-Arkanus and the Kingdom of Ogind that he had accidentally created a magical disaster of such magnitude through a momentary lapse in concentration. The resources required to heal land wounded by his flames—if such healing were even possible—would be enormous, and the questions raised about his presence and capabilities would inevitably lead to complications he had spent decades avoiding.
Now fully alert and processing his thoughts clearly for the first time in days, Ben began to analyze what had triggered such an extreme response. The gaze that had penetrated his consciousness was definitely not of this world—he could feel that certainty in his bones. No living being native to this realm possessed the capability to peer so deeply into another's essence. Perhaps if it had been the legendary King of Dragons, or the ancient Emperor of Elms-Arkanus the man who was known as half-deity and half mortal, he might have felt something approaching that level of otherworldly power. But even those legendary figures would not have possessed the particular quality of transcendence that had characterized this mysterious scrutiny.
No, this had been something else entirely—something that spoke of realms beyond the physical world, of powers that operated according to laws he could barely comprehend.
Meanwhile, the caravan had come to a complete halt as the oppressive heat and crushing sense of imminent doom made any forward progress impossible. The air had become thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe, and several of the less hardy travelers had begun to show signs of heat exhaustion despite the brief duration of the phenomenon. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the supernatural pressure vanished as if it had never existed, leaving only the memory of terror and the lingering scent of superheated air.
August knew with absolute certainty that the man standing before them was dangerous beyond imagining, and his SYSTEM had made that abundantly clear. Swallowing his fear and drawing upon the leadership skills that had seen him through countless crises, he dismounted from the top of the large wagon Adrianne to personally apologize to the mysterious stranger. But first, his people needed attention.
"Everyone, I'm deeply sorry for what just occurred," he announced, his voice carrying clearly despite the tremor he couldn't quite suppress. "Let me check to ensure that everyone is unharmed and receiving proper care."
He moved systematically through the caravan, personally examining each person for signs of heat-related injury or trauma. The experience had shaken everyone profoundly, but their trust in August's leadership remained undiminished. Following his orders, those who had been traveling in the non-climate-controlled transport wagons were quickly moved to the more comfortable environments of Adrianne and Amaryllia, where magical temperature regulation would help them recover more quickly. He even opened the storage compartments of their most advanced wagons, creating additional cooling spaces for those who needed them most.
The efficiency with which his people responded to the crisis filled August with a mixture of pride and humility. These individuals had chosen to follow him not because of any formal authority, but because they believed in his ability to protect and guide them. That trust was a responsibility he did not take lightly.
Only when he was satisfied that everyone was receiving appropriate care did August approach the mysterious figure who remained standing motionless in the middle of the road, apparently lost in deep contemplation once again. It was only when August had closed to within ten meters that the stranger finally began to move, slowly turning his head to focus on the young man approaching him.
Ben's eyes, when they met August's, seemed to glow with an inner fire—not metaphorically, but with an actual, visible flame that danced in the depths of his pupils. This startling phenomenon occurred because Ben could perceive that the young man before him was blessed with a connection to the element of fire itself. The blessing burned so brightly in August's aura that even Ben, lost as he had been in his deepest thoughts, could not help but react to its presence.
When Ben finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of centuries and the authority of someone accustomed to bending the very elements to his will. "Young man, what is your name?"
August, recognizing that there was no point in deception when dealing with someone of such obvious power, chose honesty. "I am known as August Finn, sir." The older man continued to study him with an intensity that was both unsettling and oddly comforting, his weathered fingers gently stroking his beard as he examined every detail of August's magical aura with the expertise of a master craftsman evaluating a particularly interesting piece of work.
"Ho ho ho, most interesting indeed, young August," Ben murmured, his tone carrying notes of both surprise and approval. "You are blessed with fire—that much is immediately apparent. But I also perceive two other elements that are of secondary nature within you. Weaker in raw power than your primary element, perhaps, but more refined, more carefully controlled. Your primary fire element, by contrast, remains largely untamed—a wild force waiting to be properly channeled." His eyes narrowed with scholarly interest. "Indeed, this is a most fascinating discovery. A first, if I should say so myself, to encounter a genuine triple elemental being."
This observation was not entirely new to August. His master, Aetherwing, had mentioned before that he might be the first and only true triple elemental person in recorded history. The distinction was crucial: mages who could manipulate multiple elements typically relied on artificial magical circles implanted in their mana hearts that served as anchors for foreign elements within their bodies. Even the most powerful High Archmages of the Empire of Elms-Arkanus fell into this category, having achieved mastery over multiple elements through study and artificial enhancement rather than natural blessing.
Most people were born with a single true element as part of their fundamental nature. Those blessed with two true elements were extraordinarily rare and valuable individuals, often becoming the stuff of legends. But no one in recorded history had ever been born with three true elemental affinities—it was considered theoretically impossible by most magical scholars.
August's case was unique even by those standards. He had indeed been born with only the element of fire, but through his mystical union with his Guardian Beast Aetherwing, two secondary elements had somehow manifested within him, becoming as much a part of his essential nature as his original fire affinity. While purists might argue about the technicalities, for all practical purposes he would be considered the world's first true triple elemental being.
Before August could properly apologize for his earlier intrusion, the older man interrupted his gathering thoughts with a question that struck to the heart of the matter. "Tell me, young man—was it indeed you whose gaze possessed such otherworldly quality when you looked upon me earlier?"
"Yes, sir, that was me," August replied, his voice steady despite his lingering apprehension. "I was attempting to use my abilities to assess your identity and potential threat level before our paths crossed. For this rude behavior, I offer my sincere apologies."
Ben's laughter was rich and genuine, carrying notes of both amusement and respect. "Ho ho ho! So it was your gaze—or was it truly yours alone? The sensation I experienced was as if a god itself was looking upon me, examining my very soul with casual omnipotence. Whatever entity shares your consciousness, young man, it possesses power that transcends anything I have encountered in this world."
August could only pause at the old man's perceptive deduction. He too had heard whispers from Aetherwing suggesting that something else occupied space within his consciousness—something that his Guardian Beast could sense but not fully understand. August knew exactly what it was: the SYSTEM that had bonded with him and continued to guide his development in ways that even he didn't fully comprehend.
"It would seem that you are correct, sir," August admitted carefully. "My master has made similar observations before. But may I be permitted to know your name, sir?"
"Ho ho ho! Indeed, your master must be a being of considerable power and wisdom. Is he perhaps the one who taught you to harness and control your secondary elements?" Ben paused, his expression shifting to one of mild embarrassment. "But how rude of me indeed! Of course you should know my name. I am Ben Flameswrath, a High Archmage and a Wandering Sage and the Wizard of Molten Flamesat your service."
"Yes, sir. My master belongs to the Peregrine Eagle race and has been instrumental in my magical development."
"A Peregrine Eagle, eh?" Ben's eyebrows rose with interest. "Hmm, I have encountered such a being before during my travels. On several occasions, I observed one flying overhead near my former hometown—a magnificent creature of considerable size and obvious intelligence. What was his name... Ae... Aerey... Aether something?"
August helped the old wizard's memory along. "My master's name is Aetherwing, sir, and he serves not only as my teacher but as my Guardian Beast."
"Aha! That's precisely it—Aetherwing!Yes, I remember now quite clearly." Ben's eyes lit up with recognition and something approaching delight. "I see the connection now. Indeed, he is your master, and more than that—your fates have become intertwined in the most profound way possible. That bond will endure until you draw your final breath, creating a partnership that transcends the normal relationships between human and beast." His expression grew thoughtful as he continued, "Hmm... yes, this has indeed proven to be a most interesting day."
The older man began to speak in low mumbles to himself, working through some complex chain of reasoning that August could not follow. Fragments reached his ears—references to "elemental convergence,""systemic anomalies," and "prophetic implications"—but the overall meaning remained elusive. Finally, August decided to interrupt the man's private deliberations.
"Sir Ben, how would you feel about joining us for a meal? Our caravan is currently stopped anyway, so we'll need to establish a temporary camp and take our midday meal break."
"Oh! It seems I have lost myself in contemplation once more," Ben replied, blinking as if returning from a far distance. "Very well, I shall gladly accept your generous offer, young August."
August signaled for the caravan to establish their rest stop and prepare for an extended lunch break. He then began the process of introducing Ben Flameswrath to the various members of their group, though he was careful not to immediately reveal the full extent of their guest's legendary status. The women and men assigned to cooking duties for the day began preparing their meal with practiced efficiency, their movements quick and sure despite the morning's unsettling events.
After everyone had gathered in their informal dining circle and begun eating, the conversation naturally turned to questions about their distinguished guest. Those among the group who possessed education or worldly experience gradually began to recognize exactly who they were hosting, and word spread in whispered conversations around the camp: this was THE Ben Flameswrath—legendary High Archmage, renowned Sage, and famous Wandering Wizard of Molten Flames whose exploits had become the stuff of bardic tales across multiple kingdoms.
Those who understood the significance of their guest's identity began asking more pointed questions, their voices carrying a mixture of awe and curiosity. "Master Flameswrath," one of the more educated people in the table Bjorn of the Martin family posed a question, "might I ask what brings you to travel along this particular road? These paths are known to be dangerous, and surely a person of your... capabilities... would have access to safer routes?"
Ben considered the question thoughtfully, seeming to weigh how much information he wished to share. "I was traveling to investigate reports of unusual volcanic activity in this region," he finally replied. "There had been indicators of a potentially active volcano that required examination. However, when the current war erupted, I found the main highways... inconvenient for my purposes. I have little patience for the barbaric aspects of human nature that wars tend to bring to the surface, and even less desire to become entangled in conflicts that would demand explanations I prefer not to give."
It was unusual for the typically laconic wizard to engage in such extended conversation, but something about this group and this day had put him in unusually high spirits.
Ben then posed his own question to the group. "I hope you won't mind my curiosity, but where exactly are all of you headed? From the composition of your group and the nature of your supplies, it appears that you are engaged in some form of migration rather than simple travel."
Answers began to flow from various members of the group, each person sharing their own story and motivations, but all ultimately pointing toward the same destination: the home of their young leader August. Notably, none of them mentioned the specific location, as it was a place that had been officially declared a prohibited settlement zone by the Empire of Elms-Arkanus.
"Ho ho ho!" Ben chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems you are all being quite careful to avoid naming your actual destination. No matter—I have no intention of prying into affairs that are clearly meant to remain private. However, if I were to hazard a guess based on your collective reticence, I would say that your destination is most probably a location that has been banned or restricted by the Empire."
Ben observed with satisfaction as the people around him reacted to his deduction with barely concealed surprise and concern. His smile widened as he realized he had guessed correctly.
"Indeed, Sir Flameswrath," August confirmed, deciding that their guest's perceptive abilities made further concealment pointless. "We are traveling to my home in the Village of Maya—a settlement that has cut itself off from the wider world, it is tucked into a hidden valley between two mountain cliffs, deep within the Great Forest of Lonelywood."
"Ho ho ho! So there was indeed a settlement established in that location! I must admit, I was not aware of its existence during my previous travels through that region."
"Yes, sir. Although we maintain no formal affiliation with any state or kingdom, which is why I don't typically share information about our location with casual acquaintances."
"A most wise policy, young August. Indeed, there are many things in this world that are better kept hidden from the attention of governments and their agents." Ben's expression grew more serious as he continued, "With this many people in your group, I would assume that some significant tragedy befell your original village—something that required the population to be supplemented by outsiders such as these good people."
August's smile became tinged with sadness as he acknowledged the older man's perceptive observation. "You are correct, sir. Unfortunately, I am now the sole surviving member from the original population of my village. Several years ago, our settlement was completely destroyed during a night raid that came without warning. We had heard rumors of the approaching final war that the Empire had waged against the Fresco League of Kingdoms and had taken what precautions we could, hoping desperately that our remote location would keep us safe from the conflict. But alas, fate had other plans for us."
"Indeed, how tragic and unfortunate," Ben replied, his voice carrying genuine sympathy. "I am deeply sorry for forcing you to recall such painful memories, young man."
As their conversation continued, ranging over topics both light and profound, the time for departure gradually approached. August finally stood, brushing crumbs from his traveling clothes and stretching muscles that had stiffened during their extended rest.
"Very well, Master Flameswrath, we must continue on our way," he announced with genuine regret. "I wish you good health and safe travels on your free-spirited journey throughout our continent."
Ben Flameswrath felt an unexpected pang of loss at this declaration. For the first time in many years, he had experienced genuine companionship—conversation that engaged his intellect and warmed his heart in ways he had almost forgotten were possible. But what could he do? He was a stateless man, a self-imposed exile who had been wandering the world for decades in an attempt to atone for sins both real and imagined. What place could he possibly have among these people who had found purpose and community in their shared journey?
For too long, he had wandered across continents with no particular direction in mind, driven by restlessness and guilt rather than any positive goal. But what if... what if it was finally time for him to settle somewhere? What if fate had brought him to this crossroads not by chance, but by design?
It just so happened that these people were traveling toward a place that, like himself, claimed no affiliation with any state or kingdom—a sanctuary where someone with his complicated past might be able to start anew, to find purpose beyond mere wandering.
As the caravan began to resume their interrupted march toward Maya, Ben felt a sudden surge of desperate determination. "Wait! Wait!" he shouted, his voice carrying clearly across the distance that had already begun to separate them. "Do you have space for one more person in your group?"
The caravan came to an immediate halt, and August climbed down from his position atop the rear wagon, his expression showing surprise mixed with cautious hope. "Of course we have space, Sir Flameswrath, but what about your own journey? What about the volcanic investigation you mentioned?"
"Ho ho ho!" Ben laughed, and for the first time in years, his laughter carried notes of genuine joy rather than mere amusement. "I have come to realize that I am getting older, and that it may finally be time for me to settle somewhere permanent. And you, young man, have presented me with what appears to be the perfect place for me to begin that new chapter of my life."
August welcomed the wandering wizard to their caravan with enthusiasm that was clearly shared by the rest of the group. The prospect of having someone of Ben Flameswrath's knowledge and abilities as a permanent member of their community was almost too good to believe.
With this fateful meeting now transformed into a permanent alliance, they resumed their travel once more. The day progressed peacefully, the earlier tension replaced by animated conversations as Ben shared stories from his travels and the other members of the group told him more about Maya and their hopes for the future.
As evening approached and they made camp for the night, August reflected on the strange turns their journey had taken. What had begun as a simple encounter with a mysterious traveler had evolved into something far more significant. Ben Flameswrath—legendary wizard, master of elemental magic, and keeper of countless secrets—would now become part of their growing community.
The meeting of fates, as August would later come to think of it, had changed the trajectory of all their lives in ways they were only beginning to understand. And so the day ended with new possibilities stretching before them like an open road, leading toward a future none of them could have imagined just that morning.
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Day 11-14: Clear Roads
The days had passed in steady rhythm as the caravan continued their arduous journey, now accompanied by an unexpected but welcome addition: the legendary High Archmage and Save and the Wandering Wizard of Molten Flames, Ben Flameswrath, who had joined their ranks four days prior. With the keen eye of someone who had witnessed countless adventures across the realm, he had carefully observed the daily routines these resilient people maintained. What impressed him most was their unwavering dedication—every dawn brought physical conditioning, combat drills, and magical practice sessions that August and several others participated in with remarkable discipline.
Ben found himself initially content to remain an observer, studying their methods and marveling at their determination. The younger members of the group had embraced him with surprising warmth, many affectionately calling him "gramps" despite his relatively modest age of seventy-one. In truth, for practitioners of the high arts like himself, he was still considered barely past childhood. High Archmages possessed lifespans that could stretch across millennia before their natural end arrived—though when death finally came, it was instantaneous and absolute. From dust they came, and to dust they would return, as the ancient saying went.
This profound understanding of mortality's fleeting nature was precisely why Ben had never seriously pursued marriage or lasting romantic entanglements. He had witnessed too many times how fragile life could be, how quickly everything could change. The weight of potentially watching loved ones age and perish while he remained unchanged for centuries had always given him pause.
Now, however, his mere presence within this traveling community had dramatically transformed their circumstances. The magical aura that surrounded a wizard of his caliber acted as a powerful deterrent to the various threats that plagued these forgotten roads. Their chances of successfully navigating the dangers ahead and reaching their destination village—which would soon flourish into a place of considerable power and influence—had increased exponentially.
Their current objective was to reach a nearby settlement that lay along their predetermined path. This particular outpost was one of the few remaining inhabited areas in this increasingly desolate region. While lawlessness had indeed become rampant throughout these forgotten territories, pockets of civilization stubbornly persisted. These were villages and towns that had been effectively abandoned to fend for themselves when the grand Imperial Highway became the dominant trade and travel route preferred by merchants, nobles, and common folk alike.
The decline of this ancient network of settlements was a direct consequence of progress itself. The Imperial Highway's efficiency and safety had gradually siphoned away the lifeblood of these older routes, reducing traffic to a mere one to five percent of what it had been in more prosperous times. What remained were hardy souls too stubborn to abandon their ancestral homes and opportunistic predators who saw isolated travelers as easy prey.
The settlement they sought was a village called Berkinsil, though its current state of prosperity—or lack thereof—remained to be seen with their own eyes.
Master Ben had heard detailed accounts of the struggles this group had endured during their recent travels. The constant ambushes orchestrated by outlaws and various lowlifes who had claimed these routes as their personal hunting grounds had tested everyone's resolve. Yet remarkably, no lives had been lost on either side during these encounters. This fact led Ben to conclude that August and his carefully chosen team had performed their protective duties with exceptional skill and restraint—a rare combination that spoke volumes about their character and training.
The young man August particularly intrigued him. There was something genuinely admirable about the youth's dedication and natural leadership qualities. However, Ben's experienced eye had noticed significant room for improvement in August's magical techniques. "His methods of channeling mana are still inefficient," Ben muttered to himself during one of his observations, watching August practice his spellwork. "It appears he learned fragments here and there, then discovered the rest through trial and error."
Indeed, August's magical education had been unconventional. Rather than learning from a traditional mage or academy, he had received instruction from an intelligent magical beast. While this had given him unique insights and approaches, it also meant his mana usage patterns resembled those of a creature rather than a properly trained human practitioner. The techniques worked, but they lacked the refined efficiency that centuries of human magical development had achieved.
A sudden inspiration struck Ben like lightning illuminating a dark sky. What if he were to take August under his wing and teach him proper magical techniques? The idea of having his very first apprentice sent excitement coursing through his ancient veins. Yes, this could be exactly what both of them needed—August would benefit from proper instruction, and Ben would finally have someone to pass his vast knowledge to.
The thought brought such a wide, anticipatory grin to his weathered features that the passengers in the rear wagon began exchanging worried glances, wondering what dangerous scheme the old wizard might be contemplating.
After several more hours of steady travel, they finally crested a hill and caught sight of their destination: the village of Berkinsil. The settlement appeared more dilapidated than anyone had hoped, with crumbling walls and buildings that had seen far better days. Nevertheless, this humble place would serve as their home for the next four days while they resupplied and allowed both people and animals to rest properly.
However, their arrival timing proved less than ideal. The village gates had already been secured for the night, and the guards stationed there demonstrated the strict vigilance that had become necessary in these troubled times. Constant attacks from raiders and bandits had made the villagers deeply suspicious of strangers, particularly large groups like their caravan that could potentially overwhelm the settlement's modest defenses.
With no choice but to wait until morning, they established their camp outside the protective walls, posting their own sentries and maintaining their usual security protocols. Despite the less-than-welcoming reception, spirits remained high among the travelers. Their second week of this epic journey had concluded on a positive note, free from the ambushes that had plagued their earlier days.
As the stars emerged overhead and cooking fires began dotting their temporary camp, August tallied their progress with satisfaction. They had successfully completed 2,500 kilometers of their ambitious 7,000-kilometer journey. The road ahead remained long and uncertain, but with each passing day, their destination drew closer, and their bonds as a traveling community grew stronger.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges and opportunities, but tonight they could rest knowing they had survived another chapter of their great adventure.