The caravan journey was long and winding, taking them through dense forests where the light filtered through the canopy in golden beams, wide open plains where the horizon seemed to stretch into infinity, and rolling hills dotted with small hamlets and farms. The company itself was a mix of merchants, officials, and scholars, all bound for various destinations but united by their southward travel.
“By the way, how much does the amulet cost?” Katja asked discreetly.
Ollie, who had just returned from gathering wood for that night’s halt, put his bundle in the pile and sat down next to Katja before answering.
“The main monetary unit is the ‘silvan’, originally the equivalent cost of the amount of flour to feed one person for one year,” he said. “A tenth is a ‘gert,’ most farmhands earn around 28 gerts a year. A workhorse is 2 to 5 silvans.”
Ollie stopped as a merchant waved past them before joining a group a little further on.
“This translation amulet is worth more than 100 silvans.”
Katja’s mouth opened and closed silently.
“Yeah,” Ollie continued, noting her reaction. “This amulet is a product of high arcana.”
Katja pondered this. “How is magic stored, or encoded, in objects? Is it like a battery, with a finite amount of energy, or more like a solar panel, constantly recharging itself?”
“It’s more like the former: magical objects are infused with a certain amount of energy during their creation, and this energy is then gradually expended with use, however, the rate of depletion varies greatly depending on the complexity of the spell and the frequency of use. You can think of it as a spring-loaded toy car that uses up its energy as it moves forward, or a mechanical clock,” he said, pointing to his watch. “Some magical objects, like this amulet, are made to last for decades.”
As the fire crackled, the evening air grew cooler. Katja pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The stars twinkled above as they sat in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Around, the caravan’s camp was lively, with people cooking, chatting, and tending to their animals or wagons.
“You know,” Katja said after a long silence, “I don’t know what would have happened to me if that village head hadn’t known about you, and if you weren’t just a few days’ travel away from where I woke up.”
“There’s something you need to grok about this world,” Ollie said as he lay down to look at the stars. “There are very few coincidences here.”
Katja sat up. “Are you saying our meeting was… predestined or something?”
“Something like that, much of this world operates on what I can only describe as story logic. Which makes sense, in a way, if you consider the aether.”
“That’s… unsettling. Do our choices even matter in this case?”
“We’re not puppets Katja, we’re more like actors in a play, with the freedom to improvise.”
Katja looked at the fire, lost in thought. “And all the men and women merely players,” she said softly to herself. “So, what about the Travelers? Are we just anomalies, or do we play a specific part on this world’s greater stage?”
“That’s one of the big questions. Some think we’re here to bring change, to stir the pot, so to speak; others that we’re part of a larger cycle, a renewal of sorts.”
“And what do you think?” Katja asked, looking at him.
“I think we’re catalysts for a process that began with the Corruption; what process exactly, I don’t know.”
They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the stars and the dying embers of the fire.
As they neared Autermont, the landscape grew more civilized, with well-tended fields and frequent villages. The road became smoother, and the number of travelers increased, many heading in the same direction.
“The Magisterium operates a bit like a medieval university,” explained Ollie. “There’s no admission test: you join a specific college, each with its own admission criteria, mostly just by paying or by being sponsored, and, when they determine you’re ready, they add your name to the list of people who can pass the various graduation challenges.”
Katja nodded, intrigued. “What kind of challenges?”
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“If you want to become a wizard, you have to pass the ‘high rope’ to get the title of mage, and then you can pass the ‘low rope’ for the title of archmage. Arcanists pass the metal challenges: steel, bronze, silver, and gold, each exponentially harder than the previous one. Most mages are at least steel arcanists, and most archmages are at least bronze arcanists.”
“What happens if someone fails these challenges?”
“They can try again next year,” Ollie shrugged. “The challenges are tough, and many need several attempts to succeed. The college mostly won’t care as long as they pay their tuition.”
As the caravan approached the mountains, the terrain became more rugged and imposing. The air grew cooler and fresher, and the scent of pine and mountain flowers filled the air.
“We’re almost there,” Ollie said, pointing to a great pass between two towering peaks. “That’s Mynd Gate, the main entrance.”
The caravan slowed as they navigated the winding path towards the Gate. As they reached it, the night was already falling and the caravan came to a halt.
“By crossing the Gate, we’ll officially be leaving the Empire,” Ollie said, helping Katja down from the wagon. “Tomorrow we’ll reach Gelor, the first major settlement. We’ll likely be alone on the road as the merchants of the caravan will have to wait for the taxman.”
“Is Autermont independent?” Asked Katja, dusting her cloak.
“With Loria, it’s the only place in this world that isn’t claimed by the Empire.”
“Wasn’t Loria the previous imperial capital? The seat of the Emperor?”
“Politically Loria has always been more like… Switzerland, if Switzerland was a city-state. Autermont is even more Switzerland-like, being surrounded by mountains and all.”
The next morning, as the first light of dawn touched the peaks surrounding Mynd Gate, Ollie and Katja began their descent into the valley carrying their heavy rucksacks on their backs.
Their journey from the top of the pass was marked by a steady descent, their footsteps echoing softly on the rugged path. The air, crisp and tinged with the scent of pine, grew warmer as they descended. Ollie led the way, his stride confident, navigating the twists and turns with an ease born of familiarity. Katja, following closely behind, took in the sweeping vistas that unfolded around them, the mountains’ majesty gradually giving way to the gentler embrace of the forest.
As they reached the lower elevations, the dense canopy of fir trees overhead filtered the sunlight into a soft, dappled pattern on the forest floor. The chatter of wildlife and the rustle of leaves underfoot accompanied their progress. Occasionally, they would stop, allowing Katja to marvel at the sight of a deer or the sound of a distant woodpecker.
Around noon, they emerged into a clearing where an old stone bridge arched gracefully over a swift-flowing river. Here, they paused for lunch and shared a simple meal.
After their brief respite, they shouldered their packs once more and continued. The landscape gradually opened up, revealing a flat terrain and fields. The fir forest receded behind them, replaced by a patchwork of farmland and meadows.
They reached Gelor at the end of the day. The streets were lined with shops and stalls, selling everything from food and clothing to books and magical artifacts.
“The first college is here,” said Ollie as they made their way through the town. “Gelor’s one of the oldest and most prestigious.”
It was an impressive sight. Located on a hill overlooking the town, it was a complex of tall, spire-like towers and broad, low buildings, all constructed of the same blue, shimmering stone that seemed to capture the light.
“It’s beautiful,” said Katja, watching the college glisten in the setting sun.
“It’s made of starstone, a kind of very strong slate typical of Autermont.”
“So, what's the plan now?” Katja asked, turning to Ollie.
“We’ll find lodging. Tomorrow, we get a carriage and head to Kayan, Autermont’s capital. That’s where we’ll find you a college.”
Ollie led Katja down a narrow, cobblestone street lined with quaint houses. The street opened into a small square, dominated by a cozy-looking inn. It was a charming, three-story building with ivy climbing its stone walls and brightly colored flowers in window boxes.
Inside, the inn was warm and inviting, with a large fireplace crackling in the common room. The wooden beams of the ceiling were adorned with various trinkets and relics, and the walls were covered with tapestries depicting scenes of nature and landscapes.
The innkeeper, a tall man with a thick black beard and a warm smile, greeted them. “How may I assist you?”
“A room for the night, please,” Ollie said, placing a string of coins on the counter.
“Of course,” the innkeeper replied, counting the coins. “We have a lovely one available. It overlooks the square and has a fine view of the Hill. Will that be suitable?”
“Sounds perfect,” Katja replied.
The innkeeper handed them a key and, carrying a lantern, directed them to their room on the second floor. As Ollie opened the door, the room magically lit up. It was cozy, with a large four-poster bed, a writing desk, and a window that offered a picturesque view of the town and the college in the early dusk.
“The chamberpot is under the bed,” said the innkeeper before leaving.
Katja immediately dropped her bag and cloak beside the bed and lay down on it. As she looked up at the ceiling, she felt a wave of exhaustion mixed with a deep sense of contentment wash over her. She turned her head to see Ollie standing by the window, gazing out at the town and the college on the hill.
“Why do people in this world still have fireplaces if they can heat themselves with magic?” she asked.
“To cook. Or because they are too poor to get a spell cast on their floor often enough.”
Ollie turned from the window, his gaze drifting towards Katja. He crossed the room, pulled a chair up beside the bed, and sat down.
“Quite a day, huh?” he said softly.
Katja nodded, her eyes back on the ceiling, a small smile playing on her lips. “Every day here is quite a day.”
Ollie looked at her for a few minutes and leaned back in the chair, the soft creak of the wood breaking the silence, his eyes not leaving Katja. “You know,” he began, his voice low, “I’ve seen a few Travelers come and go in the last decade.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “But you have this incredible ability to adapt, to embrace the unknown. It’s remarkable.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not trying to find my old life here,” she said quietly. “Or maybe it’s because I found something here… worthwhile.”