CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX—A CAREFUL STUDY

One Year Ago

With a lot of searching, Shiro had found a much cheaper room to sleep in at night. It had taken a lot of effort, first finding the establishments, then going in and asking for a room, only finding out how much the price was by putting coins on the counters and having the inn keepers pull the correct amount from his pile. He took them back when he felt the price was too high.

Shiro suspected that most of these innkeepers pulled away far more coins than the actual cost, but what could he do otherwise?

The establishment he was now staying at was a quarter the price of the first he had stayed. Perhaps the innkeeper was honest.

Or was it that is daughter behind the counter simply wasn’t trying to steal from me?

He wondered if on the next night, if her father was behind the counter, if he would try to overcharge Shiro. Perhaps these were not only the woes of an isekai but as a foreigner in a new land as well.

In any case, if her father or mother was behind the counter, he would put the same amount of coin down as the daughter had taken and he would turn around and walk out as if their daily business was concluded, giving them no room to balk.

This was what Shiro was thinking while he sat at a drinking establishment with no one to talk to. He was seated in a tall chair amongst other patrons drinking their spirits or eating food. It was a semi-outside establishment next to the river and the large green awning provided ample shade.

Shiro had chosen this establishment because he had seen groups of travelers coming and going constantly from this area. They would arrive, tether their animals, go into the building there—it had flags—leave and then untether their animals and enter the city proper.

Watching carefully, what he also realized was that there were many men present with swords. They looked like adventurers, or perhaps guards?

If he was to find work, this would be the place. But how to ask? And who would give him work when he spoke nothing of the language?

Shiro sighed heavily, watching another caravan depart along the road out of the city. Watching carefully, he saw that a guard had gone to one of the caravans and slapped his weapon.

This made Shiro sit up suddenly, and as he did so, the man spoke, to the caravan leader, though he couldn’t hear what was said from the distance. The man of who he thought was a guard of some sort rubbed his fingers together, and the caravan leader nodded.

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The swordsman departed with them.

So this is how it is done?

Shiro made the decision to approach the next departing caravan and do likewise. Perhaps he would find some work so he wouldn’t starve.

I won’t starve.

The strange trees and their hard nuts were everywhere, and water was abundant because of the river. Among the sellers in the city were many foods, cooked and prepared, but also raw fruits and vegetables were plentiful.

Though he didn’t know what the consequences of stealing food were here. Perhaps they would cut his head off if caught?

They throw out the old food, he thought. He growled in his throat with the thought of scavenging for refuse and surviving off of it.

He needed to find work, and fast or he would go mad with the indignity forced upon him.

A caravan arrived from within the inner city.

Shiro took his chance and waded out into the hot sun and crossed the street. He made a noise, raised his hand to the man at the front. He decided not to speak, simply to gesture mostly, and he slapped his hand against his new scabbard and pinched his fingers together.

The man shook his head and then proceeded to ignore him.

Well, he thought, even a rejection is good. This means he understood what I was after. If I ask enough of them, one will say yes… eventually.

*

As soon as Dev wasn’t being watched, he cast his reveal spell to make his staff reappear, the heavy, gnarled magical item thumped onto the desert ground. He needed the ochre-colored staff to perform his next spell.

The world turned and he was gone, moved back to Oravar to the designated magical link rune he had inscribed atop a sandstone building with a terrace overlooking the drinking establishment where the isekai had been sitting.

With another spell, Dev’s adventurer garb vanished, revealing his robes and upturned leather shoes. Perhaps he was out of place, so he did not summon his hat.

He hoped the sun didn’t burn him up here. With red hair and a light complexion, he was particularly prone to overexposure and he didn’t like using too much magic—not for little things like blocking the sun from his skin.

It was a waste, and wasting magic was irresponsible.

The isekai of Mikuma—Dev had recognized his region—had known him as an isekai due to his slightly misaligned aura, was getting up, moving to the other caravans, and as Dev had shown him, he was now tapping his sword and pinching his fingers together.

It wasn’t a large push in the right direction, but the man seemed capable. He didn’t need Dev to coddle him. Surely the man would find some work eventually and begin to make his way in this part of the world.

And perhaps back to his homeland.

Had a person seen Dev upon the terrace, watching him, perhaps unexpectedly, that person would have witnessed his self-satisfied smile. It wasn’t a smile of arrogance or malevolence. No, Dev was not playing with this isekai.

The mage had places to be—others to help, and evil to destroy.

“I am supremely happy that I could lend you a helping hand, friend. Good luck to you and may your fortunes bode you well.”

With his parting words that no one heard, Dev the mage tapped his staff on the stone roof and he disappeared.