Over the course of the next few weeks, Wesley and Gust slowly integrated themselves into the caravan’s daily life. Gust entertained the guards and other passengers on a regular basis in return for his and Wesley’s daily meals, while Wesley was a source of entertainment himself.

Each night, when the caravan had come to a stop, Wesley would practice his magic on the outer edges of the encampment while others watched.

Although everyone was born with the capability to develop mana channels and mana pool, only some would develop a mana pool large enough and mana channels strong enough to use magic. Furthermore, only the higher echelons of society had the resources to learn how to use magic.

Hence, most in the caravan had never come into such close contact with magic before. Of course, they’d been aware that magic was being used around them during the battle with the bandits, but none of them had had time to closely observe.

But now they could - each time Wesley casted a spell, a flurry of claps and compliments could be heard from the side.

...

That night.

“Psst, hey Gust.”

“Yeah Wesley? What’s going on?”

“Can you bring me outside of the encampment? I need to be able to practice some of my magic in private.”

“Hmm.” Gust thought about it. “Do I get to watch?”

“...Yeah, sure.”

Gust took Wesley’s hand into his own, and the two walked towards the encampment opening, where they were addressed by one of the guards.

Seeing that it was Gust and Wesley, the guard grinned and addressed them. “Hey Gust, where you going?”

“Hey, just taking the kid for a late night stroll. We’ve been cooped up in the wagons all day, gotta stretch for a bit, you know?”

“Ha, alright. Well, the boss won’t be happy, but it should be fine. Just don’t attract any unwanted attention, got it? Don’t want another one of them bandit attacks, or heck, a monster attack.”

“Mhmm, thanks.”

Gust gave the guard a jaunty salute and led Wesley out of the camp. “See kid, you gotta communicate more with the people in power. Lets you get away with stuff, and oftentimes, gets you that money.”

“Uh huh.”

“... Goddamn kids.”

After they’d reached a distance of a few hundred meters from the campsite, Gust stopped and looked back. Not a single hint of the campsite could be seen through the dense forest.

“Hey kid, we should be far enough now. Have fun - we have to go back to the campsite within the hour or they’ll get suspicious.”

Gust pulled a knife out of his bag and cut a notch on a tree facing the way of the campsite, then sat down and watched Wesley.

Wesley stood still and concentrated. He raised his right hand and pushed. Over the last few weeks, he’d practiced the skill of creating a plane of condensed air to write his spells on.

But tonight, he wanted to attempt the next level of casting spells - drawing.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Although he’d never learned any seals, he had some practice material to start with. He’d spent his time while the caravan was moving, meditating, examining the “dead” seal that hovered above his mana pool. What he had observed was that the seal was infinitely complex, and was actually created from hundreds or thousands of individual seals.

While nearly all of the seals were too complex for him to memorize, there was one that was relatively simple, and he’d spent the last week trying to commit it to memory.

It was this spell that he wanted to try now.

He raised his hand and began to draw the seal, then swiped his finger across it to cast it.

Nothing.

If this had been a month ago, Wesley would just have given up and forgotten about it, but this time, he raised his hand and immediately tried again. And again. And again.

Gust had initially been paying close attention to Wesley’s actions, but after nothing had happened for half an hour, he lost interest and began humming to himself. Eventually, an hour had passed, and Gust stood up and stretched his limbs.

“Hey kid, it’s time to go back.”

“Okay.”

Gust grabbed Wesley’s hand and began to lead him back to the campsite. “So what were you trying to do anyway?”

“Trying to draw seals… I guess it’s too complicated for me. I don’t think people usually learn how to draw seals until they’ve at least qualified as an Intermediate Mage.”

“Didn’t you say you’re like a Rank 1 Elementary Mage to me the other day? You’re the bottom of the barrel?”

“Mhmm.”

Gust didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he looked at Wesley. “You shouldn’t rush the process, you know. Just take stuff step by step and I’m sure you’ll be a great mage.”

Wesley paused, then looked up at Gust and smiled. “Thanks, Gust.”

…

The next day, the caravan woke again to Mark’s booming voice.

“Alright lads, we should be able to see Fort Rosenthal sometime this afternoon, so let’s quicken our pace! If we’re lucky, we might get there just in time for supper. We’ll sleep in warm beds tonight!”

Cheers spread throughout the campsite, and everyone quickly prepared to leave with a bounce in their step.

A short while later, the caravan set out at a brisk pace. Mark, in the first wagon, looked around him before pulling a scroll out of his pocket. He stared at it, then sighed and muttered to himself, “I sure hope this works out.”

Last night, he’d checked the boxes he’d hidden the chaos gems in, and all of them were still there, unharmed. Despite that, he felt a mental itch that just wouldn’t leave.

Meanwhile, in the last wagon, Wesley was fast asleep - after his failed training session last night, he’d spent the entire night trying to memorize the seal he’d been trying to cast. The result, was that when Mark had announced that the caravan was about to leave, Wesley had tried to climb out of the wagon, but had face-planted on the ground instead.

Jen had spun around and picked Wesley up. The result was the current situation - Wesley was wrapped up in a blanket between Jen and Kyle. The former stared at Wesley with an unusual look in her eyes, then looked up and addressed her husband.

“Honey, I want a kid.”

A single drop of sweat made its way down Kyle’s temple, as Alex suddenly experienced a coughing fit.

“Hmm? Kyle, are you okay? Do you not want a kid?” Gust prodded Kyle with a smirk.

Kyle glared at Gust, then quickly turned toward his wife and smiled. “Of course, darling! But, uh, let’s wait until we’ve settled down with our own house and stuff, okay?...yeah?”

“Nooo, I want one now!”

Another drop of sweat trickled down.

…

A few hours later, they could see Fort Rosenthal on the horizon, and just as the sun was about to disappear for the night, they’d arrived at the fort’s gates.

As the caravan slowed to a halt in front of the gates, a sentry atop the fort’s walls leaned outward and shouted towards Mark, who still sat at the front of the first wagon.

“State your name, association, and purpose!”

“Hello sir, this is Mark Shylock, of the Shylock Trading Company. I’m bringing some goods to the Kenta Kingdom for trading purposes.”

The sentry moved back, presumably to relay this information to an officer behind him.

However, after a few minutes of waiting, the sentry had not yet returned, and the gate was still closed.

Then, with a loud metallic groan, the gates opened.

“Bout damn time,” muttered Mark, before a look of panic crossed his face.

As soon as the gate opened, hundreds of heavily armored, spear wielding soldiers poured out from the fort, surrounding the caravan. With their spears lowered, they formed a menacing, impenetrable palisade.

“Lay down your weapons, or die!”