Halfway Through the Journey

Thin morning mist hung over the forest road.

The two carriages had passed the Haunted Gold Mine not long ago.

Ten days had passed since they rescued Tasia... The once-bustling camp had fallen quiet again as the gold mine ran dry. Only a few townsfolk hoping to try their luck still lingered.

As they left the bare hill where the Haunted Gold Mine stood behind, the roadside scenery became an unchanging blur of trees.

Annan gazed out the window. Moisture clinging to the glass slowly gathered into droplets. Now and then, it drew his attention away from the jolting carriage and the scenery. He picked a droplet and watched it creep downward, collide and merge with others, then slide faster down the glass before choosing a new one.

Tasia wore the oversized linen clothes Annan had asked Aunt Susan to sew. She held a borrowed copy of "Bastard" and read quietly. It was the biography of another person of mixed heritage who had gone on to become a legendary adventurer.

Soluman Copperbeard dozed with her Refined Steel Hammer in her arms. Lindy and a female guard rode in the other carriage.

Annan had been too optimistic about the trip and had overlooked a personal problem. Before noon, the carriage's jolting had made him motion-sick, forcing them to stop several times so he could vomit by the roadside.

After the fifth or seventh time—he had lost count—Lindy came over to Annan, who could only stand with Tasia's help, and tore open a scroll.

A deep violet glow enveloped Annan, and the bloodless boy drifted off to sleep.

"It's a Fainting Spell. Unless someone wakes him, he'll sleep without feeling a thing for over ten hours," Lindy said in answer to the Minotaur's and Dwarf's looks, then returned to her carriage.

It was for the best. At least they no longer had to worry that Annan, who had nearly vomited up bile, might die in the carriage.

A caravan needed a week to travel from Pinglin Town to Breeze City. With no cargo, their journey would take only three days. By the time Annan woke, half the distance remained.

The forest passing beside the road looked much like the one near Pinglin Town, dominated by tall, cold-hardy birches and pines.

"Where are we?"

Annan found that his motion sickness seemed to have passed. His mind was clearer than ever.

"We're about to pass the Regan Viscounty."

Soluman Copperbeard had traveled this road many times.

"A viscounty? Right next to Breeze City?"

Annan happened to have read that noble estates were usually far from towns... and they were already within Breeze City's territory.

Neither Soluman Copperbeard nor Tasia knew why. Later, when they stopped to eat in a clearing on the outskirts of the viscounty, Lindy explained that the hereditary viscounty predated Breeze City.

As they ate, Annan looked toward the distant hills. He could just make out a corner of the viscount's castle and farmland cleared among the trees.

An incident arose on the afternoon of their second day.

At a four-way crossroads, the two carriages had to slow down. A Goblin dressed in ragged cloth and leather stood by the road holding a wooden sign. In strange-sounding Common Tongue, it warned them, "The territory ahead is occupied by Goblins. No humans except merchants are allowed in."

Soluman Copperbeard and Lindy got down to negotiate. The female guard, said to be one step away from Elite Level, rested a hand on her sword hilt.

Annan studied the Goblin through the window. It had dark green skin and stood about as tall as a Kobold, no more than a meter. Its build was somewhat closer to a human's. Another Goblin leaned against a tree behind it, holding a book.

There was no argument or fight. Soluman Copperbeard returned to the carriage and said, "Few Goblins speak the Common Tongue. Fewer still refrain from attacking first." Lindy said, "We don't need to go through the Goblin nest."

Though they meant the same thing, their thinking was different: one wanted to avoid a fight, while the other saw no need for one.

Soluman Copperbeard grew much quieter after climbing back into the carriage, all her feelings hidden beneath her thick brown beard. What tipped Annan off was that the Dwarf woman did not touch her flask for dozens of minutes.

"Soluman Copperbeard... ma'am." Annan felt awkward addressing a Dwarf that way. "What were you trying to tell me at the tavern?"

The Dwarf woman was about to deny it, but then she saw Annan's earnest expression.

"...Dwarves keep secrets."

"Even if you don't tell me now, Mr. Fast will tell me when we get back."

"All right... But don't tell Fast I told you."

Soluman Copperbeard had wanted to get this off her chest:

Soluman Copperbeard, Fast, and the bard had once belonged to a secret society.

To Annan, its ideals were nothing short of noble: it sought to help different races coexist, resolve their conflicts, and put an end to their feuds.

But most races considered those ideas heresy. Elves and Dwarves shaking hands and making peace? Good luck with that. Undead made the best workers? An interesting thought. Orcs could become gentle? Not a bad idea. There were good Demons? Did they even hear themselves? Ratfolk could make the best companions... Would someone drag this heretic out?

At first, the society did quite well. It drew members from the four major races—humans, Elves, Orcs, and Dwarves—as well as Lizardfolk, Kobolds, Minotaurs, Druids, and even Demons, Insectfolk, Ratfolk, and Greenskins... Even if only one in ten thousand of each group was such an oddball, that was still a staggering number.

The society's membership swelled rapidly, and its members got along splendidly. Outside, the races slaughtered and hated one another. Within the society, they helped one another and stood together.

But as time passed, cracks appeared in the unity their ideals had forged. Then came the second stage:

I stand against my brother. My brother and I stand against our cousins. My brother, my cousins, and I stand together against everyone else.

Members of each race banded together with their own kind and shut out the others. Humans called Orcs savages; Orcs called humans monkeys. Elves called Dwarves mudborn; Dwarves called Elves beanpoles.

The rifts widened beyond repair until the society collapsed entirely, leaving its disillusioned members scattered far and wide.

"We didn't tell you because of your mysterious origins..."

Annan truly could not tell them the truth.

Still, he liked the society's ideals and regretted its failure. But such lofty ambitions were not something a minor Sorcerer like him could take part in.

As if to prove the Dwarf woman's point, they encountered a band of robbers that evening. Every race was cruel not only to outsiders, but to its own kind as well.

A vicious scar sprawled across the bandit leader's face, running from his bald scalp down to his chin, as though his whole face had been split open.

Such a terrible scar must have had a story of battle, pain, and death behind it. Soon, though, that story no longer mattered.

The Dwarf woman did not even need to jump down from the carriage. Lindy's female guard took care of everything.

As they drew closer to Breeze City, they encountered no further trouble.

Early the next morning, Annan pushed aside his blanket and sat up. As usual, he looked out the window and saw a long sweep of Snow Mountains, so vivid he could almost feel the cold wind blowing from them.

A vast sea of forest spread beneath the Snow Mountains. At the end of the straight, broad road stood a magnificent, sprawling city.