After a brief rest, the caravan set off once again. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon. Orange-red light spilled over the snow-capped ridges to the east, dyeing the sky in layers of gradient colors. Beams of light pierced through the gaps in the forest, casting long Shadows on the ground that intertwined with the tree trunks to weave a massive net.
Ever since Lorin used Magic to kill the Hobgoblin last night, he could feel a subtle shift in the entire caravan’s attitude toward them. The most obvious change was that the two of them no longer had to walk alongside the wagons. Instead, they were seated in the only passenger carriage in the caravan. Yes, Carl the merchant had given up his own carriage. After all, this was an esteemed Caster and his companion! Even Soron, upon learning that Lorin could cast Magic, merely trailed behind the caravan looking thoroughly dejected, not even daring to come over and curry favor.
Because of this, Lorin realized just how high the status of a Caster was in this world. If you were a Caster with a Professional Level, you could obtain a status equivalent to nobility in almost any country. Although he didn’t really consider himself much of a Caster, he was quite happy to play along. When traveling, one’s identity was self-bestowed. If it brought a few extra conveniences, why not take advantage of it? However, the carriage seats were rock-hard, making the ride far from comfortable.
Since the caravan didn’t need to venture deep into the Mist Forest—the road to Shallow Beach Town simply passed along its outskirts—it wasn’t long before they drove out of the woods. The path beneath them turned into a winding dirt road hugging the base of the mountains. Lorin looked back. The azure sky stretched endlessly into the distance, and the pine forest that had nearly claimed their lives was now as small as a smudge of paint on a canvas. At this moment, he suddenly felt incredibly insignificant.
The group traveled along the foot of the mountains for another two days without encountering any further incidents. Whenever another caravan passed by, both sides cautiously kept their distance. The road had become much easier to navigate, transitioning from dirt to gravel, with occasional traces of artificial paving. Scattered farmhouses began to appear along the roadside. As it was nearing mealtime, white steam billowed from their chimneys. A few young children stood on a dirt mound in the distance, watching them approach, with a tail-wagging puppy faintly visible by their side.
After surviving a life-and-death struggle and spending several days in the wilderness, Lorin’s tense nerves finally relaxed. He let out a long sigh, anticipation welling up inside him. Once they reached Shallow Beach Town, a casual evening stroll would surely yield another handsome income.
"We’re almost there!" Carl shouted from the front. "Push a little harder! Let’s get into town before dark!"
A few feeble cheers rang out from the group. The caravan picked up speed as the road gradually widened. The sparse farmhouses on either side were replaced by wooden houses, which grew increasingly clustered together.
[Arrived at new area: Shallow Beach Town. Current exploration progress: 1%.]
[Reward obtained: 50 Exploration Experience.]
[Current balance: 141 Exploration Experience.]
Shallow Beach Town was a typical port town. Though small in scale, its roads were notably neat and wide. It was said that this place had once been nothing more than a small fishing village. However, because it sat right on the Black Water Riverbank, Grand Duke Kaspar had funded the construction of a dock here to transport supplies, which allowed the town to gradually develop.
"First, we unload the goods at the dock! Once we’re done, we’ll find a place to rest!" Carl announced. The guards scattered around the convoy, following the carriages toward the dock. Read this novel at novelping.com for the best experience.
"Look over there," Pip said, pouting his lips toward the dock.
Lorin looked out the carriage window. On the western side of the dock stood a brick building that was noticeably taller than its surroundings. A signboard hung from the upper floor, bearing the crooked drawing of a drinking glass.
"My eyes never lie. That’s definitely a tavern," Pip said, smacking his lips.
Lorin shot him an annoyed glare.
The caravan slowly rolled to a halt at the dock, and the drivers began transferring the cargo from the carriages onto a flat-bottomed boat. Lorin and Pip climbed out of the carriage, unsure if they should offer a hand. Lorin looked around for Soron to see what he was doing, only to realize that the man and his companion had already slipped away at some point. Just then, Carl walked over, holding two iron tins, which he handed to them.
"Sir, this is where our journey ends. I had my assistant book two rooms for you at the tavern next door, so you can get a good night’s rest," Carl said. He then pointed at the tins and chuckled sheepishly. "This is some Sword Oil I made myself. I figured since you got a new sword, you could use this to maintain it."
Lorin accepted the tin and thanked him for his kindness. He looked down at it.
[Carl’s Secret Sword Oil]
[Quality: Ordinary (White)]
[Effect: Temporary weapon Durability +15%]
[One wipe lasts three days, leaving your sword looking brand new!]
He thought, "Not bad at all. I didn’t expect Carl to possess such a skill. I assumed he was just a traveling merchant."
After bidding Carl farewell, Lorin and Pip headed to the tavern together. As they pushed the door open, a wave of heat washed over them. The clamor of voices mingled with the aromas of ale and roasted meat, making Lorin’s stomach involuntarily GRUMBLE twice. A red-faced young man dressed as an Adventurer was loudly boasting about his exploits to the surrounding patrons. Nearby, a group of off-duty dockworkers listened with keen interest, occasionally applauding and cheering. In the corner sat a scruffy-bearded middle-aged man, head bowed as he drank in sullen silence.
"Come on, come on. We have to properly celebrate today," Pip said, dragging Lorin to a table against the wall. A roaring fire burned in the adjacent stone fireplace, radiating a cozy warmth over them.
The tavern owner was a burly middle-aged man with a full beard, though the short hair on his head was a tangled mess, looking as if it had been chewed on by a dog. He slammed two tankards of ale onto Lorin’s table and tossed down two keys. His raspy voice made Lorin’s head BUZZ loudly as he barked, "Here. Courtesy of Carl. Your rooms are on the second floor, turn right, the last two at the end of the hall. Breakfast is tomorrow morning. If you wake up late, don’t blame me if there’s none left." Visit NovelPing for the full chapter.
Lorin picked up the keys and glanced at the wooden menu board mounted on the wall. "Two portions of Martha’s bean and meat stew, and a grilled fish."
"Three Silver Coins. The grilled fish will take a while," the owner replied.
Lorin thought, "That’s over a month’s rent. How expensive..." Wincing inwardly, he pulled out a Gold Coin from his pouch and handed it over.
"Wait here," the owner said. He arched his thick, dark eyebrows, counted out seventeen Silver Coins from his apron as change, and turned back toward the bar.
A short while later, he returned with two steaming bowls and thumped them onto the table.
"Come on, let’s drink!" Pip, who had long lost his patience, grabbed his tankard with both hands, though his eyes remained fixed on the bowl of stew.
Lorin raised his tankard and clinked it against Pip’s. "Cheers."
He gulped down a large mouthful of ale. The ice-cold liquid slid down his throat and into his stomach as the aroma of malt exploded in his mouth. The faint bitterness and subtle sweetness sent a refreshing shiver down his spine. He set his cup down and scooped up a spoonful of the stew with a wooden spoon. The meat was simmered to perfection, falling apart at the slightest touch of the spoon to reveal its tender fibers. The gamey smell of the mutton had been masterfully masked by the spices, leaving only the faintest trace that transformed into a uniquely appetizing aroma.
"Amazing..." Pip let out a groan of pure satisfaction.
By the time the grilled fish was served, they had already scraped their bowls of stew clean. The fish was perfectly roasted, its golden-brown skin slightly curled at the edges and sprinkled with coarse salt and an unknown blend of dried herbs. The moment it entered his mouth, a rich, savory charred flavor flooded his senses. After months of eating what amounted to pig slop in the slums, suddenly tasting such a delicacy brought tears to Lorin’s eyes, even despite the exquisite meals he had enjoyed in his past life. He leaned back comfortably in his chair, holding his tankard and taking a slow sip.
He thought, "Now this is what I call living."