Chapter 58
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: The Magical Red Fruit (1)
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The region near the desert border truly shattered all the common sense I'd held up until now.
The weather turned scorching in an instant.
Crossing just one valley had completely transformed the landscape and climate before my eyes.
People across the continent called it "the barrier created by the gods to halt the desert's expansion."
Of course, the desert folk insisted it was "the barrier created by the gods to protect the desert."
'Scientific knowledge doesn't apply anywhere here.'
Either way, the key point was that something utterly inexplicable by my past life's scientific understanding was happening.
Just last night, I'd been bundled up in winter clothes, but now I was down to thin, breathable fabrics.
"Whoa—it's so hot! Are you okay, Sir Knight?"
"No choice but to bear it."
Sweat poured down even while standing still. The sunlight burned painfully, yet excitement bubbled up alongside it.
It was anticipation for 'that thing.'
Bards, merchants, even knights who'd been to the desert—all spat tales of 'it' with fervor, naturally swelling Dominic's expectations higher and higher.
"Get ready. We'll board the ships soon."
"We've reached the station already?"
"Seems like it."
"I don't see anything."
Anton relayed the message, but all that met the eye was rock and parched earth.
"Ah, there it is!"
"You can see it? For real?"
At that moment, Ian narrowed his eyes, spotting something.
Dominic squinted skeptically alongside him, but still saw nothing.
"Not that way—over here!"
Ian clicked his tongue and twisted Dominic's body about 45 degrees.
"Whoa! It's really a ship!"
Now, Dominic could see it too: beyond the distant dunes, a massive vessel with three white sails billowing proudly.
No doubt about it—a real ship.
The kind that could slice through ocean waves and set sail right then and there.
In the heart of the desert stood dozens of meters of galleons—several of them.
The only difference from a harbor dock was the lack of oars.
"Allow me to introduce you, future lord of the port. This is our vessel."
Sahar, rarely seen during the journey here, gazed proudly at the ship.
And as if on cue, the desert ground began to rumble.
Shhhrrrr—
The sand scattered bit by bit at first, then a earth-shaking roar followed.
Rumble rumble CRASH!
The vibration felt like an earthquake, kicking up sand dust everywhere, turning the air into a yellowish fog.
The "sea of sand" was no mere metaphor.
"Woooaaahhh!"
Dominic's group wasn't the only one trailing Sahar's caravan. The desert magnate, generous in proportion to his wealth, had sheltered smaller merchant bands who'd begged to travel under his protection.
Many among them, like Dominic, were desert newbies. Feeling 'it' approach from below the sands, they erupted in cheers one after another.
"Woooaaahhh!"
Dominic was among those shouting.
BOOM!
A sound like shattering rock echoed, and from beneath the sand emerged a colossal red-bodied monster.
"Death Worm!"
The nightmare of the desert: a Death Worm.
"Hurry and tie it down!"
"Move the cargo! Be careful not to drop it! Hey, you! What are you standing around for—move!"
"Tie it tight! I've told you a hundred times, sloppy knots and everything bounces off!"
It looked like an infinitely magnified earthworm—grotesque and terrifying. Yet not a single desert merchant fled; they simply did their jobs.
From loading cargo onto the ships to securing them to the Death Worm with twisted iron cables.
"...This thing really understands people?"
"...Hard to believe even seeing it."
"...Agreed. Oh, Sir Dominic! Looks like that painter over there is doing portraits with the Death Worm as backdrop. Want one? For the memories."
Dominic, Karim, and Anton each voiced their awe.
"The second ship is mine—board it."
"Thank you, Sahar."
The magnate left those words and vanished into his own ship under escort. Dominic and his group hurriedly followed.
Five Death Worms appeared in total.
Each carrying a massive galleon on its back.
"Sahar's ship is the biggest, but it's not in the lead?"
"The lead is always reserved for the Sultan's ship."
When Dominic grabbed a nearby desert-dweller after boarding, the man smiled warmly in reply. Their rapport from the journey paid off nicely.
"Even without the Sultan here?"
"Of course. The Death Worms obey the noble blood of the Sultan. All who traverse these desert routes naturally follow in his wake."
Dominic tilted his head at the explanation.
"Uh, so... do they use these Death Worms to find that primordial city somewhere in the inner sea?"
"Haha, no."
"Why not? Ships would make it so much easier..."
He looked a bit embarrassed saying it.
Dominic's ears flushed red.
'He won't say I actually believe the legend, will he? That'd be mortifying.'
Regret gnawed at him for asking. His mouth always moved faster than his brain, stirring trouble.
"It may sound strange, but Death Worms can't navigate properly inside the inner sea—they just circle the same spot."
"Huh?"
"We say the primordial city exists to test human limits. Perhaps the gods' design to show even the Sultan's blood can't conquer everything?"
Dominic thought it unbelievable.
'It fits together so neatly—great storytelling. Whoever came up with it wove natural phenomena into myth nicely.'
He'd never buy into "the will of the gods" nonsense.
Probably just something in the inner sea that Death Worms hated, he figured.
"Ptooey! Cough, cough!"
The ship slung on the Death Worm wasn't quite a high-speed train, but it rivaled an old express coach.
The problem was,
[Urgh! Blech! Hrrk!]
the horrendous ride.
Plus, fine sand clung to every crevice of their bodies.
"Convenient, but no good for tourism."
Karim added, looking pale and queasy.
Having joined a city that thrived on tourism, he'd made a new hobby of spotting ideas to adapt for Evergreen during travels.
"Urp!"
"Whoa, Sir Knight, here—over here!"
Anton supported Ian, whose face had drained of color as he dry-heaved nonstop.
'What a burden.'
Tongue clicking, Dominic unceremoniously treated seasick Ian like luggage and beckoned a horse-cart hawker nearby.
"Coming!"
"Can we charter one? We'll stay till our deals wrap up."
"Of course, milord. Prices vary by cart—take a look..."
Dominic picked a fairly upscale cart from the scroll and shuddered.
Only now did he feel the pinch of his once-fat purse thinning over pocket change.
'This is why people travel.'
Back in Evergreen, he'd never grasped the thrill of spending.
"Urp! Hrk!"
"Desert motion sickness rivals seasickness, eh? I know a great apothecary—shall we?"
The carter slyly pitched a referral.
"Huff, huff. No need."
"Stay put. Local remedies are best for this."
"I'm not that frail."
"Everyone gets motion sick sometimes. No shame in it—you'll be riding camels nonstop ahead. Just take the medicine."
"Wise choice, sir knight. Camels move like ships, so anyone prone to seasickness suffers till they leave the desert."
"...Does that apothecary's stuff really work?"
"Absolutely. I recommend it to all my queasy customers—they're right as rain by next day."
"Fine, then. Head there first."
The group prioritized quenching the immediate fire.
The apothecary sat smack in the market's heart.
Dominic pressed against the consultation room window atop the building, eyes darting busily to soak in the sights.
High-pitched flute melodies, haggling crowds, spices, exotic fruits and grains, meats rare in the south, unfamiliar architecture—it was a whole other world.
'This is straight out of Arabian Nights!'
Any second, Aladdin might pop from an alley, and from the distant Sultan's palace, a beautiful Arabian princess with a tiger at her side could break into song.
"He's sturdy—no worries there."
As Dominic ogled avidly, Ian's checkup wrapped up.
"Just something to soothe and protect the stomach. Now, where'd I put it..."
The white-haired old apothecary owner didn't inspire full trust.
Trembling hands, wandering gaze, murky eyes leading to eyeballing doses and packaging "single servings" arbitrarily.
"...Feels like we got scammed."
"Doubting folks is a bad habit."
"You saw his shaky hands too, right, Sir Knight?"
"Old people can't always steady themselves—it's natural."
"Tch. I'd recommend skipping it."
"May you come to trust the world more."
Outside the shop, Dominic and Ian bickered lightly. Ian demonstratively dumped the whole dose into his mouth.
"I did warn you."
Ian just shrugged.
"Sir Dominic! Over here!"
On the street lined with fancy inns, Anton waved broadly.
"Found a good spot?"
"Yeah. Seems each inn houses one merchant band. Nabbed one popular with imperial traders. Their cook does southern dishes too. They can hook us up with laborers or mercenaries if needed."
"Perfect. Luggage?"
"Already unloaded. Caravan workers are sorting it. Planning to hit the exchange at dawn tomorrow."
Anton had brought a hefty load of trade goods.
He'd become a mid-tier merchant lord before long.
"Heading up first."
"Sure thing, Sir Knight. I'll call you for dinner."
At the inn, Ian—uncharacteristically—waved dismissively and shuffled to his room, looking ready to collapse any second.
'Motion sickness is a killer.'
Knock knock.
"Mm..."
"Milord Mayor. Awake? Dinner's ready downstairs."
"Be right down."
Dominic jolted awake at Karim's voice.
After washing off the sand-caked grime with warm water, he'd dozed off.
The window showed dusk settling in.
"And... Sir Knight's still asleep. Knocked, but no answer."
"...Really?"
"Didn't want to barge into his room..."
Dominic sighed deeply at Karim's trailing words.
"I'll check."
"Thank you, milord. We'll wait below."
Karim still seemed wary of Ian.
Throwing on clothes casually, Dominic went next door, gave perfunctory knocks—thud thud—then pushed in.
"Coming in! ...Sir Knight? ...Sir Knight!"
What he saw: Ian sprawled on the floor, clutching his chest in agony, wracked by endless dry heaves.
"D-Doctor! No, healer! Priest! Get someone—anyone!"
I told him not to take that medicine, and now this!