The rest of the trip to Roko was significantly less eventful. Having exposed my skills sufficiently such that hiding myself no longer served any purpose, my role in the convoy changed a bit. I scoped things out with Buda to avoid future surprises, went hunting to provide the convoy meat while traveling, and started working closer with the guard, taking a rotation on the night watch.
Being able to hunt was extremely helpful for me. Fighting beasts was cathartic, in a way, and the more I fought, the easier it was to forget the feeling of cutting down other humans. I stocked up on quite a lot of wild oxalire meat, and encountered a few other interesting beasts which I recorded in my work-in-progress bestiary. I threw myself at that work.
I still spent a portion of each day traveling next to Marshan, discussing merchant life and talking about trade, learning about what goods were needed where, prices and profit margins, and trying to anticipate the market.
The paradigm shift of 4-point magic truly being oxidation magic instead of elemental magic was a massive change in my understanding, but didn’t fundamentally change what I could do with it. I could manipulate metal oxides, but that didn’t mean I could manipulate pure metal, so I couldn’t just replace my stone projectiles with metal ones, although I was sure that pelting an enemy with a rust cloud would be pretty uncomfortable for them.
If I could get my hands on some sulfur to oxidize, I could become quite the deadly little mage, although I would have to be pretty careful not to just dump the toxic gas into the environment when I was done with it. I couldn’t disperse it when I was done, and returning gas to my inventory was still not possible. Perhaps, with a gas compression canister, I could store it, but that was getting way ahead of myself.
I need a chemistry textbook, I thought with a frown. Surely there were better applications with this insight that I was missing out on.
Days passed by the dozen as I guarded, studied, and traveled until, one day, we crested a hill and the landscape changed.
The wild and natural grassland transitioned to cultivated fields. Wild oxalire were replaced with yoked and tamed oxalire, pulling carts and plows, working what looked like endless acres of farms. From what I had been told, the farms around Roko, while immense, paled in comparison to the farms around the capital, but I was still stunned by the sight.
In the center of all the farms stood a city surrounded by a complete perimeter of immense stone walls. Unlike Mirut’s white stone, the stone wall here was brown and gray, but it was equally impressive. As I got closer, I adjusted my opinion. It was even more impressive. Even with all the magic I already had, I couldn’t come close to completing a structure like that within my lifetime.
The convoy joined a line for entry through the city’s western gate, waiting alongside other wagons pulled by farmers bringing in crops and other items for sale and distribution.
“We’ll stay in Roko for the rest of the month, probably,” Marshan said. “Gotta find buyers for all the fish and sea products and then source the grain and crops to haul south. The farming gets worse towards the desert. Taraponi does some farming, but not enough to feed Haklan. Admittedly, most of Haklan’s food comes by ship from Horuth capital, but there’s still money to be made for the convoy bringing supplies from Roko.”
When we made it to the gate, I had to do a bit of negotiation in order to bring my familiars into the city. I ultimately convinced the guard that Treepo and Gregory were companions and wouldn’t be a problem, but Buda could only come in when I compared him to the oxalire. He would have to be stabled with them and was forbidden from roaming around town with me unless working to pull a cart.
Marshan was well known enough that a promise with his name attached was ultimately sufficient, and once that was taken care of I finally stepped all the way into the city of Roko, the central hub of the Horuth Kingdom.
A hand dropped onto my shoulder as I stared at the city.
“Welcome to Roko,” Marshan said, giving my shoulder a pat.
* * *
The city couldn’t compare with modern cities on Earth, but for this world it truly was a magnificent construction, clearly a hodgepodge of patchwork changes over many, many generations.
“The west gate is the least trafficked,” Marshan told me as the convoy passed into the city. “It can take most of the day to get in from the north and south, which is the main Rokon thoroughfare.”
“It’s quite the city,” I commented. My mental list of questions was exploding, and I started sorting through them to figure out what to ask and what the best way to ask them was. “How long ago was it founded?”
“Oh, centuries ago. I couldn’t even say,” he laughed. “Feeling outclassed, Mirutian?”
I looked at him quizzically, thinking back to my town. The polished white stone, and relative general niceness of the whole place, like it hadn’t had time to build up the layers of scum that cities would over generations.
“When was Mirut founded?”
“Ah, I sometimes forget you’re only ten. Mirut is far and away the newest addition to the kingdom,” Marshan said. “It was only constructed after the south surrendered to the kingdom, as a stopover for trade routes by sea. Of course, these days, it’s more well known as a safe haven to tuck away people of importance like Vorel Bargolson.”
“Master Vorel? He’s that important?”
Marshan looked at me funny.
“Of course. Vorel Bargolson is a war hero.”
A shiver ran through my body as Marshan walked away to deal with something in the convoy. I sat down, digesting what he said. I had already started to suspect after the bandit raid, but high level people like Vorel most certainly gained their level and power by killing a lot of people. From what Marshan had said, there had been a war, and Vorel had been a major part of that.
Vorel was a master of fire magic, too. It must have been horrific.
My own family likely had been involved, given their relationship with Vorel and my father’s position in Mirut, not to mention his own level.
Except… Mirut was still built long enough ago that my father’s age didn’t make sense. Vorel was old enough, maybe, to have won a war in the south in his youth and, after unifying the areas south of Haklan into the kingdom, moving to a newly constructed port town. But when I was born, my father was only in his early twenties. Vorel was already living in Mirut. My father couldn’t have been part of a war in the south that ended before Mirut’s founding. There must have been a second war.
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How much war was this kingdom engaged in? How much death was it responsible for? And who were the people the kingdom was killing?
I would have to find answers in Roko, now that I was here. Marshan had told me we would be here for the rest of the month to move our supplies and arrange the next leg of the convoy.
It was long past time to learn a lot more about the world I lived in. Not just beasts and magic, but people and politics.
* * *
I stared at the throngs of people making their way up and down Roko’s major thoroughfare. It was crowded, but also, I was finally seeing my first case of multiculturalism in this world.
While trying not to obviously study any one individual, I collected my observations into a serviceable picture of the difference between the types of people I had lived among in Mirut and some of the new people I was seeing here in Roko.
For one thing, some of the people appeared to naturally have more melanin in their skin. They were darker complexioned than myself, even with all the time I spent outdoors, and if I had to compare them to a group of people on Earth I would say that they were comparable to people of South Asian descent, a comparison that was even more apt because most of the people I saw also had epicanthic folds. That was where the similarities stopped, though, and where I had to remind myself that I was not living on Earth at all.
The world I lived on now was a fantasy world, and that was clearly on display as I took in the other features on display. I saw eyes that were violet, and others that were red, and I thought I saw some orange as well. I saw heads of hair that at first I thought was just elderly gray before I realized it was a natural silver or platinum, though I also saw some black hair like mine as well. The majority actually had something in between, a salt and pepper kind of look, although that term did the absolutely stunning shine of the hair a disservice. “Damascus” was a better name for it, like folded steel with bands of blackened patina through shining metal. To be perfectly honest, it took my breath away.
I immediately hoped I could talk to someone about their heritage and piece together a bit of their family history to try to draw conclusions about the genetics at play. Which eye colors were dominant, and which were recessive? Does the damascus hair come as a result of someone with pure platinum hair having a child with someone with black hair, or was it a separate phenotype altogether? What would a child of someone with hair and eyes like that look like, if the child’s other parent had brown or blue eyes, and brown or blond hair? These fantastic human traits, while not what I was used to on Earth, surely followed similar biological rules, and my tendency to want to classify it and organize the information was on full display as I looked for family groups to discreetly study.
While the science part of my brain churned away, another part of my brain was making other observations. I saw no person with these traits clearly displaying large amounts of wealth, and I saw plenty of wealthy types wandering around who looked more or less like my father or the other people in Mirut. There was a class disparity on display, though it wasn’t outrageously severe. Given what Marshan had said, my hypothesis was that the silver-haired people were probably the southerners, who had been conquered by the Horuth Kingdom. It seemed like they had integrated, but not on equal footing. Perhaps it was because they were still relatively new to the kingdom? Marshan hadn’t been clear on exactly how long ago the south surrendered.
Given that I hadn’t seen any person that looked like this in Mirut, there was clearly still some kind of barrier. Was that because the kingdom treated Mirut as a safe place for their elites? It made me wonder about Nodel’s family, and for a moment I actually found myself missing her and my home. I shook it off, as I was busy with too many other discoveries to study.
Though, I had spent so much time at the pier, with ships traveling to and from Haklan regularly. Why had I never seen a sailor that looked like this? I added that to my lengthy mental list of questions to find the answer to later.
Marshan had given me directions to the warehouse the convoy rented in town, before I separated to explore. I should find that before dark. It was easy to get lost in a new city.
* * *
I peered down another dark alley, frowning. I wasn’t lost. I knew exactly where I was going.
Ok, fine, I’m lost, I admitted to myself with a sigh. It was embarrassing to be lost when I had a magical map, but the problem wasn’t knowing where to go, it was how to get there. Roko was somewhat labyrinthian with alleys that dead-ended suddenly or twisted to change directions. If I could jump over that building, I would probably be right where I needed to be, but finding my way on foot was starting to frustrate me.
The part of the city that housed warehouses wasn’t exactly the nicest part of town, either. I wasn’t too worried, but compared to Mirut, I wasn’t exactly comfortable, either.
I was pretty confident about this alley, so I ducked in, heading through the narrow passage and hoping that I would emerge where I needed to be on the other side.
Instead, I found myself surrounded by thugs. I sighed.
“You really don’t want to do this,” I said, as one thug brandished a small knife.
“Look at that beast he has with him,” one whispered to the guy beside him. “Think that’s worth anything?”
I glared at the man, and he looked back at me, sneering.
“You want to meet Treepo?” I asked, crossing my arms. “Treepo, introduce yourself.”
The man screamed as claws of force slashed across his face, blood pouring from wounds that had, impossibly, landed despite the beast swiping at the air between them.
“Anyone else want to meet my friend here?” I said, suddenly brandishing a sword that hadn’t been in my hand a moment before. “Or would you like to make my acquaintance instead?”
Treepo and I watched the men scurry away, the bleeding man supported by his thug friend.
I looked down at Treepo, who grunted at them before turning back to me and chittering.
“Pushovers,” I said with a grin.
“How did he do that?” a voice called out from nearby. I turned, seeing a young child. They were thin and dirty, but I saw purple eyes and medium length damascus hair on the face peering at Treepo from around the corner of the alley.
I smiled, carefully disappearing my sword into my inventory out of sight at my side, and squatting down to pet Treepo.
“Magic,” I said, waggling my fingers. “Want to pet him?”
The child stepped forward, and I saw that he was in worse shape than I had assumed. Malnourished and with a nasty looking wound on their leg, he took tentative, awkward steps towards Treepo. A trembling hand reached out and brushed against Treepo’s reddish fur.
He gasped and pulled away at how soft Treepo was before a smile broke out on their face, and he reached down to pet my familiar again.
“Your leg looks like it hurts. Why don’t you go to the Church to get healed?” The kid was definitely under ten, so healing should be free.
“The… Church? Me?” The child shook his head. “I’m not allowed inside.”
I frowned. There had been no restrictions on Church access in Mirut for kids under ten. Was there something wrong with the organization in Roko? Or… I glanced at the young child, my frown deepening. Did it have something to do with the fact that he was from the south?
Appraising the child, I saw some nasty status conditions, and despite myself I couldn’t just let that stand. While the child was petting Treepo, I subtly cast both a cure and a heal spell on him.
It wasn’t actually possible to secretly heal someone, since the sensation was so noticeable. The child gasped, looked down at his leg, then back to Treepo.
“Did you do that?” he asked the high treehopper.
I laughed, standing back up and stretching out my legs.
“Well, I did say he was magic. Keep it a secret, though,” I said, putting a finger on my lips. The child nodded.
I reached into my cloak and pulled out some food from my inventory.
“Here,” I said, offering the child the bread and some cooked meat. His eyes widened.
“I can… have this?” he asked, barely a whisper.
“Of course. A growing boy needs to eat,” I said with a warm smile.
The child’s eyes darted down, but then back to the food.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the food and then running away before I could change my mind.
“Well,” I said, looking at Treepo. “Let’s find that warehouse before we get into even more trouble.”