Chapter 54: The Convoy

Evening.

A molten-gold, orange-red sunset slowly sank into the horizon, tinging the drifting, leisurely clouds with a twilight hue, dotting the sky like an oil painting.

The golden wheat fields gently swayed under the fading light, emitting a subtle yet majestic rustling sound as ripples washed across them like water.

The sturdy, dust-covered wooden wheels rolled on with a creaking sound, kicking up a few specks of mud and leaving deep rut impressions in the soft meadow.

Xanan sat outside the carriage box, his back resting against the heavy cargo piled behind him.

On both sides of the road, the idyllic pastoral scenery of sunset quickly receded amidst the bumpy ride.

Feeling the gentle breeze brush across his cheeks, he couldn't help but squint his eyes contentedly.

Right now, it was already the second day since he left the tavern.

After confirming that the professional contacted by Haian would take at least seventy more days to pass through River Valley Town, leaving him with plenty of time to spare, and also to verify certain suspicions in his mind, he had accepted the commission of Barn, the owner of the "Rock Hammer" shop, and joined the caravan traveling from River Valley Town to Calanful as a guard.

To be honest, this round trip of four or five days in total, while objectively a job that Xanan needed to fulfill diligently—and indeed he had prepared carefully and upheld his duties—was, from another perspective, rather like taking a small vacation for someone who had crossed over into this world and entered the Misty Forest twice consecutively within a few dozen days.

Unlike the myriad entertainment options of modern society, Xanan's life in River Valley Town consisted of little more than eating, sleeping, training battle techniques, and at most, drinking a few small glasses of wine and chatting with the adventurers in the inn.

A day or two was fine, but over a long period, though within his tolerance, it inevitably became a bit monotonous.

Now...

"Clatter."

The wheels, gradually slowing their rotation under the weight of the heavy cargo inside the carriage, produced a sluggish, grating sound, pulling Xanan back from his wandering thoughts to reality.

The lookout on duty made no sound, and there was no trace of disorder within the caravan.

Most likely, nothing was wrong.

Even so, he leaped cleanly and decisively off the wagon, paying no heed to the damp mud spots staining the surface of his leather boots, and looked around to both sides.

A sound of footsteps came from the front of the caravan.

Appearing before his eyes was the honest man he had already seen twice in River Valley Town, the one who remained silent in the face of the provocation from "Drunk Bernie," and who was also the captain of the caravan he was currently with—Jeff.

From the man's steady and unhurried pace, it was clear that the stop was not due to any accident.

And indeed, that was the case.

Seeing that Xanan had already jumped off the wagon, the plainly dressed middle-aged man scratched his head and said with naive warmth:

"Mr. Xanan, we will stop here for today."

"Dinner is already being prepared. It's... um, it's the stew made by Mr. Alton. If you don't mind, you are welcome to come and taste it later."

"Although we are getting close to Calanful, I'll still have to trouble you gentlemen to help keep watch tonight."

"Rest assured, this is our duty," Xanan replied with a smile and a nod, though a slightly odd feeling stirred in his heart.

Alton? Stew?

Recalling the memories of the past two days, his expression remained unchanged, but his mind was already weighing whether he should just make do with the dried rations he had brought along.

...

The caravan was small in number; even with Xanan and the other temporarily commissioned guards, there were only a dozen or so people in total.

Just like the two children and their mother he had encountered on the return trip after his first mission, an invisible barrier existed between ordinary commoners and adventurers on this continent.

During the two days of travel, the number of times the caravan members took the initiative to converse with Xanan could be counted on one hand.

Even during rest and meals, the adventurers usually formed one circle, while everyone else sat in another.

Only occasionally would the caravan captain, Jeff, bring over some small pastries and take the moment to discuss the subsequent travel arrangements.

Tonight was no exception.

Xanan and several fellow adventurers sat around a campfire.

Not far away to the side, several wagons had been deliberately parked crookedly by the roadside.

This way, they wouldn't obstruct the line of sight of the guards on watch, and in the event of danger, the sturdy wagon bodies could be promptly used as cover.

Naturally, simple alert traps had already been set up as soon as the stop for rest was confirmed.

The watch rotation had also been internally settled.

Xanan was assigned to the second half of the night, meaning he needed to rest early and preserve his energy.

At the moment, he was spreading honey—which he had specially bought from the grocery store before departure—onto a piece of meat jerky that had been warmed over the fire.

In front of him, several adventurers were chatting casually:

"Hey, have you heard? Some strangely shaped buildings were recently discovered in the Misty Forest. Could they be the remnants of some ancient ruins?"

"That thing... didn't high-level adventurers from the guild already go take a look? They found nothing at all."

"Ah? I thought there might be secret realms or spatial folds or something."

"Even if there were, would it ever be our turn?"

"That's true..."

"By the way, you know about that incident with Bernie, right?"

"Of course, I was right there on the scene! That sight..."

On the other side, Xanan remained silent. While he appeared to be intently preparing his food, he was actually pricking up his ears.

From the "strangely shaped buildings" mentioned by the other party, he could roughly guess that what they were discussing was none other than the otherworldly phenomenon he had encountered earlier along with the half-elf group.

Dilapidated ruins extending almost from the depths of the Misty Forest to its outer edges were naturally impossible to escape the eyes of the adventurers who frequented various parts of the forest every day.

Only...

"Nothing was found at all?"

Come to think of it, the half-elf and Wood had mentioned at the time that despite arriving at the exact spot where he had vanished, they had not been teleported into the cave.

If even high-ranking professionals failed to discover any secrets within, did that mean he possessed certain special traits that allowed him to establish some connection with the cave suspected to be a "secret realm"?

And if there was one major difference between himself and the natives of this world, it could only be...

"Thud, thud."

Heavy, sluggish footsteps approached from behind.

Xanan instinctively turned to look.

What came into view was a wobbling large iron pot, from which wisps of steaming broth frequently splashed over the sides.

Illuminated by the dim, fading light, the giant pot seemed under the influence of some magic, hovering mid-air and swaying as it struggled toward them.

Yet, if one looked just a bit closer, right beneath the bottom of the pot could be seen a pair of exquisite high-topped leather boots embroidered with a clover pattern.

"Stew is coming!"

"Help me out, please, I can't hold on much longer!"