The clopping of horses and dragging of wheels sounded out in a short distance across the great plains as a large group of travellers made their way across.

The group travelled in a line consisting of horse-drawn carriages and wagons, surrounded on all sides by several horseman and figures who walked along the carriage, surveying the surrounding area and keeping a close eye out for danger.

Mican sat in one of the wagons closer to the back, sweat wetting the back of his clothes from the heat and previous exertion he had put himself through.

Inside the wagon with him were three others, Harold, Duarte, and a little girl newly introduced to Mican, named Sarah. She was Harold’s daughter, of an age even younger than Duarte.

The entire wagon was filled with heat as all of its members had been busily packing up the smithery and alerting the other caravan members, just an hour before.

Mican had not wanted to remain useless, so he had volunteered to help, and the process sped up by several times and the caravan left the town by midday.

They had been resting in the wagon for a while now, but the heat didn’t help with the sluggishness, only making them more tired.

“Harold, can you tell me some basic information about the caravan?” Having rested enough, Mican had decided that it would be best to learn what he could before he continued the journey.

“Hm? Ah, yes. As you know, this is the Willow Caravan… hmm… well, honestly, I don’t really know where to begin.” Scratching his head, the blacksmith began to ponder. “The caravan’s history extend for an unknown amount of time, umm… We have a little under twenty members, and we head from city to city to trade and make a living.”

Even Harold himself realized he had given a poor introduction to the group, given as to how he scratched his head sheepishly.

“It’s fine then, I’ll learn as I go. The main thing I want to know is whether or not we’re headed to a large city… or no, who’s the most knowledgeable member of the caravan? A person that I can go to ask questions to?” Given the poor answer given to Mican back in the city, he had realized it would be best to just go to the more central figures of the caravan for his urgent questions.

“That would be our boss, Melinda. She’s so knowledgeable that there’s basically nothing she doesn’t know.” An accurate yet vague answer came out as a response. “Other than that, probably Graham, the man you saw before. He’s an old merchant that’s been in the caravan for longer than all of us other members. He’s seen the coming and passing of a countless number of caravan members.”

“I would like to meet this Melinda then. It works out anyway, I probably have to get accepted as soon as possible in to the caravan if I want to keep travelling.”

“That’s true, and she’s probably not too preoccupied seeing as to how we’re on the road. She’s a busy woman though, so be forewarned.” Harold nodded along to Mican’s words.

A slight silence settled over the caravan as Harold smiled at Mican and the two looked at each other. Duarte shifted his gaze between the two awkwardly.

“…Mister Mican, I can show you to her place if you’d like.” Breaking the quiet, Duarte offered his father and Mican a way out of the awkwardness.

“That would be appreciated Duarte.” Seeing his chance, Mican took it.

The blacksmith in the wagon put his hand up to his face in slight embarrassment as he quickly realized his mistake, giving his son an appreciative nod.

“Wanna come along, Sarah? It’ll probably be better than staying in this sweltering wagon.” Standing up, Duarte looked to his little sister, who looked back and silently nodded in response.

Standing up as well, Mican followed the teenager and pushed open the covering at the back of the wagon, carefully stepping out onto the ground and trailing alongside the vehicle as Duarte helped his little sister out.

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“Mican, if you aren’t accepted then I’ll take full responsibility and house you in my wagon until we reach our next destination. Good luck!” As the trio began walking to the front of the caravan, Harold’s head poked out of the wagon, and he waved at them.

Waving back, the trio walked to the side of the caravan, walking a bit faster than the horses trot and moving ahead of the wagons.

Mican spotted several faces that he had seen before in the square, steering the wagons lazily. There were two sections to the group, the front that had one carriage larger than the rest, leading the way, the back which had the wagons meant for the members to stay in, and the middle, which had several wagons filled with what Mican assumed to be merchandise and goods.

There were several people who stayed in the middle with their goods as well, and the carriage was surrounded by several armored adventurers that had tags hanging from their necks, protecting the line.

An occasional breeze blew through the great plains, relieving the group of some of their heat and blowing the green fields of grass to-and-fro.

“Mister Mican, this is the Willow Caravan, founded by the group leader Melinda and meant for the purposes of trade. We travel from one destination to another across the region of Million and trade goods and services.” As they walked, Duarte spoke out, taking it upon himself to rid his father of his poor explanation.

The teenager walked slightly ahead of Mican, holding his sister’s hand and treating the walk as some miniature tour.

“Thank you Duarte, you can call me Mican by the way.”

“Uh, okay Mist…Mican. Sarah, would you like to explain some of the services and good we sell?” Looking slightly uncomfortable, the teenager glanced down at his sibling and furthered the topic.

The young girl seemed to be in her mid tweens, very young and curious. She had a head of black hair that hung down to her back, and it appeared well taken care of, along with her attire.

A cute face with delicate features glanced at Mican occasionally, out of curiosity.

She wore a grey one-piece tunic or skirt that went down to her knees, over a white shirt. A grey cloak that covered her arms along with a hood hung from her back. The clothing had some dirt stains and was frayed in several spots, but otherwise appeared dainty and properly taken care of.

“Okay big brother. Umm, we have a lot of merchants, and Becket cooks for us. Big sister Poppy is a dancer, and we have musicians, and we also have a potion maker, and also a tailor.” The little girl squinted her eyes, listing the jobs out on her fingers.

Her explanation was very serious, despite being somewhat unorganized.

“Potion maker?”

There was one job out of the few listed that immediately grabbed Mican’s attention. The word potion brought him back to the red liquid he had drank a few days prior, one that had effects unbelievable to him, healing his broken hand and sealing his wounds in merely a few hours time.

“Everybody who has learned that we have an alchemist has been surprised. It’s true though, but he usually keeps to himself.” Duarte spoke out at Mican’s curious prompt.

“Can you tell me anything about this Melinda person? From what your father tells me, she doesn’t seem to be a regular person.”

“I’m just as curious as you are, but even growing up in the caravan I’m still not able to tell what kind of person she is.” Upon this particular topic, Duarte gave off a clear interest.

His brows furrowed slightly, and he put just a bit more energy into his voice. The young man quickly realized that this expression was of the boy’s true feelings, not a mask of any sort.

“What I can tell you is that she formed the Willow Caravan a long, long time ago. The rest will probably have to wait until you’re accepted.”

“She seems to be shrouded in mystery.”

“She is… I had asked Graham when the caravan was formed, but even he didn’t know, and he’s old.” A bit of frustration showed on the boy’s face.

Graham was the man that Mican had seen before, and he was the oldest of the caravan according to description.

Seeing as to how Duarte had mentioned growing up in the Caravan, that would be at least thirteen years, and as Graham was older and yet still didn’t know, the shroud of mystery covering this woman only thickened.

The two continued to talk further about menial topics until they reached the largest carriage in the front of group.

The carriage was large and elegant, fairly extravagant though not excessively so. The wooden frame had been gilded in silver and gold colors, lightly as so to be inconspicuous.

The carriage had carvings of letters and creatures on three sides, except for the back, where a wooden door stood.

Three words had been written out in an amazing calligraphy on the top of the door, ‘Trade and Travel’. He was no expert in calligraphy, only having seen a few famous works from galleries back in his old world, but even to his untrained eye he was able to understand the profoundness that went into it. The words, strangely, gave Mican the sense of freedom and wonder as he stared at them, as if he was a bird able to soar through the sky.

It was strange to him as he had never seen such graceful writing in even his previous world. Brushing the feeling off, the young man turned and waved at his two companions, who began walking back to their wagon as they confirmed that he had arrived.

Reaching out his hand, Mican grabbed a part of the wooden frame that was extending from the carriage, stepping onto a small platform that had been built below.

After a short pause, he pushed the door open from the outside and headed into the strange carriage.