Southbound Caravan
The south exit of Rune Village was busier than I'd expected. As soon as dawn broke, two merchant wagons pulled up to the open lot in front of the gate. A handful of laborers hustled around, loading and unloading cargo. For a frontier village, it was a fairly large caravan. The crest carved on the wagon sides was unfamiliar, but the processed furs and bundled herbs peeking through the cargo told their story. Traders plying the northern trade routes.
I leaned against the wooden fence at the exit, staring at the wagons. South. That was the direction I had to go. The problem was how. Walking? Even in human form, with a dragon's stride, I could make it in a few days—but a tall figure like me, hooded and alone on the main road, would draw eyes. Too many eyes. The most natural way was to blend into a caravan. They were everywhere on the trade roads, and one extra body among them wouldn't raise a brow.
The issue was money. A penniless drifter with not a single silver coin trying to hitch a ride—what reaction would that get? To borrow even a corner of the cargo hold, I'd need at least passage fare or some way to prove my worth. I consciously kept my grip loose on the fence to avoid crushing it, swallowing a sigh.
Two laborers loading cargo murmured in low voices, their words snagging on my dragon-sharp hearing.
"Heard the Imperial Knights are heading north?"
"Just a patrol, right?"
"Nah, it's an investigation. Magic Tower picked up some mana anomaly in the north a few days back. Knights are following up."
"Which knights?"
"Vice-captain. Harwen Delma."
My heart stuttered for a split second. The seal trembled faintly, chilling the air by a degree, but the laborers didn't notice.
Harwen Delma. The original story's protagonist. A Sword Expert. And in the late game, awakening as a Grand Sword Master to slay the calamity black dragon Barkaion by striking his reverse scale.
It's still a year away.
The story starts in Imperial Year 498. This is 497, Green Wind Month. Harwen shouldn't move in earnest until the main plot kicks off. No reason for her to come north before then.
Or so it should have been.
'Northern mana anomaly.' The Magic Tower detected the aura I unleashed when I first possessed this body and awakened. An event not in the original story drew the empire's gaze, dispatching the knights. With Harwen Delma at the vanguard.
The laborers' conversation continued.
"Vice-captain's high up, right? She's coming personally?"
"Means the mana waves are that serious. Rumors say the source is in the north."
"North where?"
"Dunno that much. Anyway, let's steer clear of knight patrol routes. Get stopped for inspection, and the whole day's shot."
If Harwen was tracking my aura northward, staying in the north was dangerous. A Sword Expert-level knight had keen mana senses. Even with the seal holding, if the original protagonist started combing the area, she might pick up my trail. Plus, I had to check last night's mana waves from the south anyway. South it was. As fast as possible.
But to ride the wagon...
My gaze returned to the caravan. Cargo nearly loaded, they were taking a pre-departure break. From the laborers' pace, they'd roll out in about an hour. No money, no ID. All I had was this sky-blue cloak hiding my face, inhuman grip strength, and a few unpaid debts.
I tamped down the urge to just stride over. Begging a ride would mark me as a suspicious vagrant. Caravans didn't let unknowns near the cargo. I needed a vouch from someone.
In this village, I knew only one person.
Finding Toti was easy. A narrow alley off the square to the east, lined with herb drying racks. Under the slanting morning sun, familiar red hair caught my eye. Toti was spreading bundles of herbs on the racks. Less than an hour since we'd parted at the square, and she was back to routine.
Green sap flecked her freckles, glistening in the light.
"Toti."
She turned at my call.
"Oh, young master. What's up?"
"Got a favor to ask."
Her brows shot up. She set down the bundle she'd been about to hang and faced me.
"You asking favors? That's new."
"First time."
"Exactly why it's weird. Spill it."
"Southbound caravan wagons. Need to ride with them."
"Got coin?"
"Nope."
"Figures."
Toti brushed herb dust off her hand with a snort.
"So what do you need from me?"
"Vouch for me. Introduce me to the caravan."
Her expression shifted subtly.
"Vouch, huh. What do I call you? Noblewoman robbed by bandits?"
"Someone useful."
She crossed her arms.
"Young master, I make my living here too. To stake my name, I need to know what you bring to the table."
"You know."
"What?"
"Someone who can rip off a hand with a spoon, pin a curved sword to the ground with one finger."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Bragging?"
"Introduce me as an escort merc. Caravans hire guards for magic beast risks on trade roads, right?"
"They do. But mercs usually have guild stamps or ID badges. You got any?"
"Nope."
"Thought so."
Toti sighed softly—not refusal, just trouble. Not unwillingness.
"C'mere."
I stepped deeper into the alley, squatting by an empty patch beside the drying racks. Smooth-packed dirt.
I traced a line in the soil with my fingertip. Control was key—light enough not to gouge, precise.
"What, drawing?"
Toti squatted beside me, peering over.
"Map."
My finger glided smoothly. The outline of the Black Thunder Mountain Range's eastern ridge took shape. Terrain data I'd memorized with dragon senses last night climbing the peaks flowed out flawlessly—ridge curves, valley forks, tree lines by elevation.
"This is Frostsea Forest's east slope. How'd you get it so detailed..."
"Went last night."
Toti's mouth clamped shut. I kept going, marking small circles. One, two, three, four.
"Here, here, here, and here."
Her eyes tracked them fiercely.
"This altitude's 300 to 500 meters...?"
"Right. Magic beasts fled their habitats en masse downslope, leaving these empty."
I drew a short line by the first circle.
"Here. North-facing valley shade. Moss layer thick under rock zones mid-tier beasts held. No guards left since they bolted."
Toti swallowed hard.
"No way."
"Saw roots under the moss. Purple leaves, silver stems."
She nearly jumped.
"Moonlight Herb?"
"Colony. Not just one or two."
Her eyes went wide. Mouth half-open, she stared at the dirt map.
"This one."
I tapped the second.
"Outside an abandoned bear cave. Shade-grower, name unknown. Black leaves, white veins stark."
"Black Leaf Ginseng. Fever-reducer. Dried bundle's ten silvers."
"Third's cliff-crevice vines. Fourth's marsh edge—unharvested since beasts pulled back."
I lifted my finger. Toti stared at the map.
"...Young master."
"Yeah."
"This map accurate for sure?"
"Sure."
"How're you certain?"
"Saw it myself."
She bit her lip, alternating between map and my face, then exhaled shortly.
"One question."
"Shoot."
"Young master, what are you?"
I gazed at her steadily from under the hood.
"Your debtor."
She chuckled.
"Picked the right guy to saddle with debt."
She slapped her knee, standing, brushing dirt from her skirt.
"Fine. I'll vouch."
The caravan leader was a sturdy man in his mid-forties. Sharp eyes glinted under a stiff chin beard, scanning me up and down.
"Escort merc? Guild stamp?"
"Don't have one."
His eyes narrowed sharply.
"Can't take unmarked strays."
Toti stepped forward from my side.
"Uncle Clarence. It's Toti. Three years of herb trades, never missed one. I vouch for him."
"Even so... Hauling unknowns risks my caravan crest if trouble hits."
"If he causes issues, my next quarterly delivery's free. Deal?"
Clarence showed interest for the first time.
"Quarterly's a chunk."
"Means I trust him that much."
His gaze shifted back to me.
"Know how to use a blade?"
"Prefer bare hands."
"Bare hands?"
As he frowned skeptically, Toti pulled a small herb bundle from her belt. A stiff handful of dried leaves.
"What's this?"
"Root Clove. Good for pain. Your back acts up, you said. For the trip."
She pressed it into his thick palm. He eyed it, hesitating.
"...Trade road's ten days. Magic beasts show, you're up front."
"Got it."
"Cargo hold corner. No cabin."
"Fine."
"Trouble, you're off. Immediately."
"Understood."
Only then did he pull a small wooden tag from his belt, handing it over. Crude carving of the caravan crest and 'Temporary' on a round plaque.
"Temporary Escort Badge. Return at journey's end."
I took the necklace, slipping it on. The rough wood settled against my chest.
First identity in this world: this.
Calamity dragon to temp merc.
Reminded me of past-life office drone days. Temp to contract, contract to full-time. Starting from the bottom was familiar.
Toti trailed me to the cargo hold. Thick canvas tented the wagon rear. Furs and herb crates left a narrow spot for one person.
I checked the floorboards. Thick oak planks. Should hold my weight.
Probably.
Distributing load carefully, I eased into the corner. The boards creaked low but held.
Toti stood at the back, looking up.
"Young master."
"Yeah."
"What's south?"
I looked down at her instead of answering. Red hair glowing orange in morning sun. Freckled face mixed curiosity and worry.
"Going to check."
"Then what?"
"Dunno. Might come back, might not."
She scowled.
"Toti."
I leaned forward from the hold's edge.
"That map I drew. Use it for gathering."
"Obviously. Memorized it already."
"But."
I lowered my voice a tone.
"No higher than 800 meters."
"Why?"
"Told you. Magic beasts are off. Till we know why, upper slopes are risky."
"You're checking the cause, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then tell me when you do. Safe or not."
I nodded silently instead.
Up front, Clarence bellowed the departure call. Laborers climbed aboard; horses snorted nervously. Probably sensing me. The driver tugged reins, clucking soothingly.
Jer k.
The wagon lurched forward. Rough wooden wheels rumbled over dirt.
Toti stepped back, waving. The wagon cleared the south gate; Rune Village's low roofs receded slowly from view.
Her red hair shrank, tinier, then vanished beyond the village fence.
I turned away. South. Scattered clouds in a mundane Green Wind Month sky. Human eyes saw nothing.
But dragon senses differed. Mana flows in the air thickened and warped southward, grotesque. An invisible black tide crept, devouring the sky.
Broader than last night. Spreading from the south.
Meanwhile, Imperial Knight vice-captain Harwen Delma advanced north. The original protagonist, wielding the blade that would one day kill me.
She comes up, I go down.
Best case: we cross paths without meeting. Northern trade routes branched plenty; low odds our paths overlapped.
They had to be low.
Lukewarm wind slipped through the canvas. Briny beast from furs mixed with bitter herbs, wafting sharp.
Wagon jolts made oak groan precariously, but no splintering.
I fingered the wooden tag at my neck. 'Temporary' rough under touch.
Temp merc Bar. Debts to pay, hero to dodge, calamity to confirm.
Even past life, scrambling to pay cards before payday. New world, same debtor life.
The wagon raced south over rutted dirt. Deep wheel tracks stretched long from Rune Village.
Behind, Black Thunder Mountains' vast peaks faded into morning mist.