On the Journey

The biting north wind howled across the desolate, bleak wilderness. Across the vast, boundless wasteland, only sparse patches of withered yellow grass and shrubs were scattered about; only such tenacious life could struggle to survive in the harsh natural environment of the Northlands.

On the parched, yellow earth, scorpions and geckos crawled by from time to time, hunting for their own survival.

Across the wind-swept land, a long caravan moved slowly along a barely visible road, leaving behind only a few chaotic ruts as testament to the bleakness of the Northlands.

Ryan pulled back the carriage curtain, watching the desolate yet vast scenery outside in a trance, immersing himself in the boundless landscape that was completely different from the elegant and refined Silverymoon.

In his previous life, Ryan had spent years studying within ivory towers. As a qualified cog in the machine, his time was often dictated by his mentors, leaving him little time or opportunity to travel the country. Such expansive scenery was something Ryan, having grown up in the mountains, rarely had the chance to see.

As for this life, Ryan had stayed with his family during his childhood, so naturally, he had no opportunity to venture out.

When he was a little older, he went straight to Silverymoon to study magic, and he had lived there ever since. Even though Silverymoon was the most beautiful jewel of the Northlands, with breathtaking scenery, exquisite architecture, and moving landscapes.

Yet, even the most beautiful scenery becomes tiresome after six years. So, for this long journey, Ryan felt a mix of trepidation and anticipation in his heart.

"Bill, about how much longer until we reach Waterdeep?" Ryan regained his focus and asked Bill, who was driving the carriage outside.

"Young Master, I checked with the caravan manager yesterday afternoon. We are currently on the Everlasting Wasteland. Once we cross the Everlasting Wasteland and reach Yartar, we won't be far from Waterdeep—about a month's journey."

Hearing his young master's question, Bill responded decisively with the information he had recently gathered.

"Hmm, I truly hope the rest of the journey remains peaceful." Ryan murmured softly.

The caravan had been traveling from Silverymoon for ten days now. It had been peaceful so far, save for a few harassment attempts by goblin tribes. The mercenaries hadn't even needed to draw their weapons; the caravan guards had driven the small, green, scrawny creatures away, leaving behind a trail of corpses—some dead, some fleeing.

Along the way, Ryan had used spells to observe certain bandits lurking nearby, but perhaps due to the well-armed guards surrounding the caravan and the presence of sturdy barbarians who looked like trouble at a glance, those bandits ultimately decided against biting into such a hard bone.

For safety reasons, Ryan had not appeared before the caravan members. These ten days were spent mostly in the carriage, meditating and studying new spell models. When he grew tired of studying, he would open the window to look at the scenery and relax.

Away from home, Ryan maintained a cautious and guarded attitude toward everything. Even the food Sphinx had specially prepared for him was handled by Bill.

In Ryan's hometown, there was an old saying: "One should not have the intention to harm others, but one must have the intention to guard against them." Ryan had always held this as a golden rule and practiced it in his daily life.

As for what he ate himself, it was naturally the dry rations and bread stored in his demi-plane space. He had stocked that space with enough rations and clean water to sustain a five-man team for three months of frugal living, enough to ensure he could maintain his basic survival needs in any harsh environment.

Just as Ryan was pondering whether the wilderness survival skills taught by Bear Grylls in his past life were applicable to this strange world filled with magical species, a commotion erupted from the front of the caravan, and the convoy came to a halt.

"Bill, go see what's happening."

"Understood, I'll go right away!" Bill said, jumping off the carriage and sprinting toward the disturbance.

Ryan waited in place for a while before seeing Bill rush back. Bill's face was pale with terror as he panted, "Young Master, it's bad! Up ahead, there are so many... so many corpses. They died so miserably."

"Corpses?" Ryan's heart stirred. Curiosity piqued, he decided to go see the situation for himself.

Ryan walked to the area surrounded by the crowd. The people who had been pointing and discussing saw the reclusive mage approaching and quickly cleared a path, watching the mysterious mage with curiosity.

Ryan walked straight out of the crowd and finally understood what Bill meant by "died so miserably."

Amidst the wreckage of vehicles left in the wake of a fire, broken and fragmented remains were scattered about. The mangled, twisted bodies looked as if they had been struck head-on by a siege hammer and then butchered by a clumsy slaughterer. The bodies, piled haphazardly, had been stripped of their clothes, leaving only thin undergarments covering their deformed frames.

The heads of these corpses had all been severed and impaled upon wooden stakes. On those blood-stained faces, an indescribable despair and terror still lingered, their wide-open pupils filled with deep-seated hatred.

Ryan frowned. Such exaggerated injuries and the custom of displaying trophies on stakes—these were definitely the handiwork of orcs.

But according to the information Ryan had gathered, shouldn't the orcs be near the Great Glacier further north? How could they have ended up on the desolate Bloody Wasteland?

"Mage Ryan, you've come too!" Sphinx, seeing Ryan arrive, hurried over to greet him.

"Has this sort of thing happened at this time before? Are there many orc tribes on the Everlasting Wasteland?" Ryan asked Sphinx.

"No, nothing like this has happened in previous years. The Bloody Wasteland is said to have been created when a great mage's experiment caused a massive explosion, and the withered, deathly energy infected this land, which is why it is so desolate."

"Only those endless goblins can survive and breed in such an environment. Orcs would never come to such a barren place."

Sphinx's tone held a trace of trembling. He was deeply worried about the horrific scene before him; who knew if the next target of those bloodthirsty orcs would be his own caravan.

"Young Master, I think I remember something." Bill, who had been standing quietly to the side, suddenly spoke up.

"Bill, if you remember something, just say it." Ryan nodded at Bill, and Sphinx also looked at him with anticipation.

"Young Master, when I was gathering information earlier, I heard someone mention seeing orc shadows in the hills not far from Silverymoon."

"According to a drunken traveler's rumor, it was because a mad white dragon from the Great Glacier to the north was constantly snatching people from orc tribes to use as experimental materials. Those orc tribes couldn't bear the harassment, and after their resistance proved futile, they had no choice but to migrate south."

"But because this news sounded too absurd, everyone in the tavern thought the guy was just drunk and babbling. Could it be... could it be that what he said was true?" Bill still found it hard to believe.

"Regardless of the situation, what we cannot avoid is that there may be one or several orc tribes ahead of us. They are currently rampaging across the Bloody Wasteland, robbing passing caravans, and we might be one of their targets."

Ryan calmly analyzed the current situation while silently calculating the probability of the caravan's combat strength defeating an orc tribe.

In the wilds of Faerûn, the harsh natural environment had forged a batch of tenacious species. Under the law of natural selection, none were easy to deal with. And orcs were a major disaster for the humans of the Northlands.

These fierce, barbaric, and strong raiders worshipped the orc deity Gruumsh. They often gathered into tribes and then used their strength to plunder everywhere. They burned, killed, and looted surrounding villages and caravans, slaughtered roaming livestock, and murdered any humanoid who dared to resist them.

After their pillaging, the orcs would move all supplies back to their own lands, burn the ruins of the village to the ground, and return to their original dwellings, satisfied after their lust for bloody slaughter had been sated.

At the peak of their power, the orcs even gathered their tribes to harass Silverymoon, once breaking through the city walls—the first time the city had been breached since its founding.

Although Silverymoon later successfully repelled the orc offensive and launched a massive retaliatory strike, dispatching many adventuring parties and regular troops to sweep and destroy orc tribes in the wild, driving them back to the Great Glacier and successfully eliminating the threat, the shame the brutal orcs left upon Silverymoon remained forever in the hearts of its citizens, cementing the image of orcs as cruel and violent.

"The situation is not looking good. If it's a small tribe, the caravan's guards and mercenaries can handle it. But once the orcs gather into a medium-sized tribe, the group will have spellcasters like shamans, and there might even be orogs—powerful beings blessed by the orc deity," Ryan said to Sphinx and the arriving adventurers, Kasla and Arata.

Hearing this, the tall barbarian shouted fiercely: "Arata will use his great axe to split those disgusting scumbags!" The boisterous dwarf warrior, however, calmed down and said to Sphinx, who was sweating with anxiety: "I will have Jelona expand the patrol range. We won't let a single rustle go unnoticed, ensuring we don't run head-on into an orc warband."

Sphinx finally breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the dwarf, who had become reliable at a critical moment: "Then I'll leave it to you. I will add twenty percent to your original reward."

Ryan, who had been watching quietly from the side, said nothing until the conversation concluded, then slowly said in a hoarse voice: "I will also take action when necessary. If there are enemies, my magical alarm will sound."

Sphinx was overjoyed. With the mysterious mage agreeing to intervene, the caravan's safety was at least guaranteed. He had feared this mysterious mage would be as arrogant as the mages he had met in Silverymoon, indifferent to the lives of ordinary people and unwilling to interfere in external affairs.

"Bill, let's go back." Ryan called his attendant and walked toward their carriage. After the caravan's servants and laborers buried the corpses and handled the scene simply, the caravan resumed its journey.

Looking at the gloomy sky in the distance, Ryan sighed softly: "A storm is coming."