Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Itinerary
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True silence is like this.
The blazing sun and the relentless wind. Even the hoofbeats of the Kusilles were muffled by the sand. Gazing at the horizon shimmering like a heat haze, Ian felt an inexplicable peace.
"Ugh......"
Berik's dying groans occasionally broke the quiet, but no one paid them any mind. In the Great Desert, those who were to die needed to do so quickly, and those who were to live would survive by any means.
Ian handed over the half-empty waterskin and asked,
"Are you all right?"
"I feel like I'm dying......"
"You'll die from this?"
"Well, not exactly......"
It had been just one day since they entered the Great Desert from the border. If there was a variable, it was Berik's lack of heat tolerance. His red hair, soaked as if absorbing all the heat, hung limply.
Su, who had been leading, approached from the front.
"If you're going to die, get off here. I'm sorry for your Kusille."
At Su's mockery, Berik just grimaced. This was lawless territory beyond the border, Su was a member of the Cheonryeo Tribe, and damn it all, the one she followed—the "peace offering"—made it so. Still, flipping her the bird might be okay? Berik grumbled amid his panting, lost in thought.
"Halt."
Hiiing-!
The wind shifted direction. The lead guide stopped, and the caravan halted as well. The guide shook a parched twig, divining the wind.
"What's wrong?"
"Sandstorm. It's moving faster than expected."
"How close?"
"We'll meet it in three or four hours."
The chieftain and the leaders gathered, looking up at the sky. Unfortunately, it was daytime, so no stars were visible.
"Pitch the tents for a bit."
That meant the meeting would drag on. At Kakantir's order, a large shade was spread, and everyone watered their Kusilles and rested. Ian did the same. After tending to his Kusille, he poured water into Berik's mouth.
"You came as an escort, but you're impressive in your own way."
"You didn't say it would be this hot."
"I didn't expect you to be clueless about the desert either."
"I know the desert! I do! Damn it. Give me more water."
Ian passed the waterskin to Berik and rummaged through his small bag. The map of the Great Desert and climate forecast list from his teacher were neatly folded inside.
'How far have we come?'
He had marked the map each time the route changed. They had come exactly as far as planned. Berik was groaning, but the Cheonryeo Tribe pushed their Kusilles hard without mercy. It was probably out of concern for Clan Leader Winchen's health.
"...Sandstorm."
Ian traced the map with his finger. A storm path marked A12 overlapped their current position. Since they had departed yesterday, the margin of error was about four hours. Just as the guide had guessed.
"What are you looking at?"
"Su. You haven't shed a single drop of sweat."
Su chewed on dried jujubes and grinned.
"I'm a warrior born in the heat, raised by the sand."
"Right. How long is the rest?"
"About ten minutes. Time to reload the packs."
She seemed pleased that he hadn't questioned her claim of being a warrior. She handed him a couple of jujubes and spun away.
"Attention! We depart in five minutes. To avoid the storm, we must move briskly!"
"Which way should we fix the Kusille heads?"
"East."
"Yes, understood."
At the chieftain's order, everyone secured their Kusilles' heads to the right. In the chaos, only two didn't move: Ian and Berik. Berik was more like half-collapsed, though.
"Any issues?"
"Did you say east just now?"
"Yes."
"...Not south?"
His unexpected words made the tribe halt and turn to Ian. What was this guy saying?
The guide protected the tribe's safety, inheriting the wisdom of ancestors. Even the chieftain deferred to him on desert matters.
"What the hell is he saying?"
"He's babbling after stepping on desert sand for the first time."
"Leave him be. That's how nobles are."
"Ahaha! True! A great imperial noble!"
Thanks to their exclusive language, Ian could only infer the nuance after the first remark. The chieftain looked displeased too. He wouldn't strike yet, but if trouble arose, they might follow the procedure for Derka's older brother.
The chieftain approached.
"Why mention south?"
Cheonryeo, the tribe's heartland, lay north. South meant a detour, wasting time and effort. Naturally, he was curious.
"There was a Great Desert researcher at my estate. According to his info, a storm is coming from the northeast right now. It's large, so shouldn't we avoid it? We can't go back the way we came, so I suggested south."
They had crossed a massive dune yesterday. The slope was so steep that two Kusilles had tumbled down by mistake.
"Chieftain?"
Time was short, but the chieftain just stared at Ian. At the tribe's urging, he extended his hand.
"Give me that information."
"Here it is."
His ready compliance surprised them. Ian had planned to ditch it if they demanded something in return. The chieftain examined the paper and called Nersarn.
"Nersarn, translate."
It was written in Variel script. Kakantir, Nersarn, and the guide huddled together. From the looks, they had something to discuss.
"What's going on?"
Ian whispered to nearby Su. She glanced at the tribe, then quietly replied.
"The storm coming from the north is certain. But one of the Kusilles that rolled yesterday was the guide's. The twig must have been damaged, clouding his reading."
The gypsy world was truly mysterious. How could a mere stick predict the weather? He wanted to ask, but Ian patiently nodded.
'Going south is safe but arduous. East is a shorter detour. Whether we meet the storm is unknown.'
Clan Leader Winchen's urgency. Two injured Kusilles. Piled trade goods. Outlanders unused to the desert. As chieftain, it was the most efficient choice—without knowing east was also in the storm's range.
"Fine. We'll do that."
After a long meeting, they decided. Kakantir scanned for suitable members.
"Janyarung, Tan, Turom! You three detour east and reach Cheonryeo first. Inform them the storm will delay us, and return if there's word on the clan leader."
The three sturdiest in the group. They could push through a sandstorm.
They packed minimal gear and mounted at once. The rest could endure the storm, but the Kusilles and their loads might not.
"Spread out as much as possible. Avoid the Eternal Cactus and Praying Rock. Inside there, the storm rages."
"Yes, understood."
"We're off first!"
"See you in Cheonryeo!"
Hiiing-!
No time for farewells. They spurred their Kusilles' thighs and vanished as dots in moments.
"Then we......"
The chieftain glanced at Ian, then folded the map demonstratively and tucked it away.
"Head south."
"Head south!"
Everyone readjusted their Kusilles' heads. Ian yanked Berik's collar to rouse him, and the chieftain helped lift him onto a Kusille.
"Who made it?"
"The map? My teacher."
Kakantir was expressionless, but inwardly, he felt the gap in technology and learning. They made maps by traversing the desert on foot. Some oases discovered just years ago were marked with '85% existence probability.'
"Conserve water."
He glanced at Berik's sweat-and-water-soaked face and advised. The longer journey meant scarcer water.
"Yes, Chieftain."
Ian nodded, thinking he'd infuse mana instead of water now.
The wind picked up again. Unlike before, it blew low and short.
* * *
"Huh?"
Days passed like that.
By the time they grew accustomed to the desert's daytime scorch and nighttime chill, the leading guide—who rarely spoke—broke the silence.
At that signal, Kakantir behind him looked up, then Nersarn, and soon the whole group stared ahead.
"Trees?"
Ian did the same.
Something green crested the horizon. Soon, Cheonryeo Tribe horns blared, and they shouted in joy.
"We've arrived! Cheonryeo!"
"Good work, everyone."
"You've worked hard! Demosha!"
"Demosha!"
Berik, dozing atop his Kusille, rubbed his eyes awake. His already tanned skin had darkened further.
"We made it?"
"Yeah."
As they neared, the sand hardened. The Kusilles stepped more vigorously, reaching the destination in an hour.
"Chieftain Kakantir!"
Ian surveyed Cheonryeo lands.
For border barbarians, their architecture was advanced. White stone walls enclosed dense tents; palm trees atop sand were large and vibrant; colorful cloths faded gray against golden dunes fluttered. Roads were decent, sewers too, it seemed.
"Kakan! Welcome!"
"You've worked hard. This way!"
"Prepare water and food for all!"
"Is that Ian? Or the other one?"
"Blondie's obvious. The one's next to him looks feisty."
The boisterous welcome crowd exchanged cheerful greetings. The three who went ahead had rested and returned to routine.
"How's Clan Leader Winchen?"
"He's improving."
"Good."
Kakantir nodded for Ian to follow as he dismounted. The tribe stared openly, curiosity unmasked. Berik trailed Ian, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Swish-
Pushing aside bead-curtained canopy released a cinnamon scent. Inside was cool and dim.
An elderly man lay on the central bed. His weathered skin, etched with time, looked ready to flake off.
"Winchen. Kakantir has returned."
"Ah.... Chieftain. I am ashamed."
"How's your body?"
This was Winchen, clan leader revered as Cheonryeo's root—the gypsy who discerned truth from lies. The elder slowly sat up.
"This is Ian, who will stand with Cheonryeo under the Bratz treaty."
As Winchen rose, a beam of light fell on his face. Cloudy pupils like mold. The rumor of his blindness was true.
"I will confirm if Ian is suitable."
"...Ian. Answer my question."
"Yes, Clan Leader."
The elder's lips worked silently, as if pondering, then he asked. It was somewhat unexpected.
"Did Ian Bratz come here by the will of the gods?"
...In the desert, Ian realized, things always happened out of the blue.