“The capital? Why?”

“Royal orders. They need supplies up in the north,” Marshan said. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Rumor is, there’s a bit of a rebellion forming in the subjugated lands.”

I frowned. I had gotten so distracted with helping Altessoa that I still hadn’t formed a clear picture of the larger goings-on in the kingdom, and it was coming back to bite me. I looked over Marshan, considering. The merchant was already sharing some of my secrets, which were increasingly not very well-kept secrets, so it was about time that I just asked the man for clarification, which I did.

“Sorry, I don’t know anything about the conflict in the north. You said the south surrendered to the kingdom a while back, which opened the sea route that led to Mirut’s founding, which is where war heroes like Master Vorel get safely tucked away. And from what I’ve seen in Roko, southerners are, at least to some degree, integrated into the kingdom. What happened after that, in the north?

Marshan nodded, then paused to think.

“That’s mostly right, as I understand it. The kingdom used to be fairly small, slowly spreading into the east and south before meeting in conflict with what was then another country, although I don’t know the name it used to go by. The fighting was bad, as the south was full of powerful fighters, but what is now the Church gave Horuth an advantage with divine healing. Our soldiers, who would have been out of the fight, were healed and sent back to the front, with the advantage of having learned from past encounters.

“Horuth’s healers and repeatedly revived soldiers broke the spirit of the south. They surrendered, and joined the kingdom,” he said, then dropped his voice again. “Although some might say they’re still only second class citizens, as they were kept at arm’s length from anything related to the Church, so they couldn’t access healing magic for themselves and potentially rise back up.”

That explained some of what I had seen in Roko.

“Are they not allowed on ships, either?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I never saw any southerners in Mirut’s port.”

“Ah. I don’t think they’re explicitly disallowed, but it’s the captain’s choice who to hire. It might just be prejudice. The southerners were a people of desert and sand, though, so they might simply not take to ship living.”

In that case, it might just have been cultural, not prejudice. That was interesting, but not hugely consequential.

“So then, after the south, the kingdom tried to take the north?”

“Not quite. For a long time, the north was untouchable. There’s a mountain range that separates it from Horuth, which made it nearly impossible for there to be true tensions across the northern border. There was barely any interaction with the…” He again dropped his voice. “With the Velgein nation, though that name is no longer spoken in polite conversation.”

I nodded, and Marshan continued, keeping his voice low.

“However, the kingdom learned a lot from the south. They had magical knowledge which the kingdom integrated, not of healing magic, but of other sorts. It led to a bit of a magical revolution in the kingdom, though I don’t really know the details.”

Magic circles, maybe? Was that when specific spellcasting generalized to modern magic?

“The kingdom’s power grew substantially, specifically with elemental mages and their abilities. At first, their power went towards helping the kingdom, but after a long period of building, the kingdom wanted more power. It started cultivating mages specifically for war. Combat mages, like your Master Vorel.

“With such a force available, carving out a pass through the mountain became not just feasible, but desirable. The kingdom had grown enormously in power and wealth from conquering the south, so it turned its gaze on the north. It is said that the fighting was… horrific. Combat mages unleashing devastating magics on the enemy, and the enemy fought back with equal fervor.

“The north finally fell, about a decade ago…” Marshan looked at me. “Probably around when you were born. But they never surrendered. Velgein was conquered. Subjugated. It is still only being held through force and might.”

Marshan looked around at the warehouse, which was full of activity with wagons being packed and people arranging the setting out of the convoy.

“Their spirit still isn’t broken, even now. A rebellion has been brewing for some time, and rumor has it that it’s reached a point where a show of force is necessary. The kingdom has ordered a resupply so that they can organize their forces and hold the territory. We’re one of the convoys that will be helping to supply the effort.”

Marshan’s face betrayed how he felt about it, and I frowned, but he shrugged with a sad smile.

“Unfortunately, my convoy often relies on royal subsidies. So we’re headed north.”

We parted ways so Marshan could get back to arranging his convoy members and goods, and I ruminated on what he had said.

Horg must have been part of that war. He must have done well, too, given his level and the position he was given in Mirut. Vorel also must have been a powerful force in that war, and given that he was a fire magic master, almost certainly was responsible for some terrible, terrible things. If conflict was arising, would they return to the war effort? Vorel was perhaps too old now, but my father was still a healthy young man. Would he be called upon, or was he out for good?

More importantly, would he want to return? How did he feel about his role in the war? He never spoke about it, and clearly had some complicated feelings about what I would learn out in the world.

I shook my head, running my hands through my hair and taking a deep sigh. It was too much to think about all at once, and if the convoy was leaving north so soon, I had some goodbyes to make before I left.

* * *

Atlessoa clung to me, her arms around my waist with tears in her eyes.

“You’ll be fine, Soa. You managed without me before, and you’re much stronger than that already. And you’ve got Meaila,” I said, looking over at her pointed muskoon. From what I assumed about combined vowel sounds, the girl had picked a southern-style name for her familiar, who was rubbing up against Treepo quite like her tamer was doing to me.

I peeled her off of me, patting her head. It wouldn’t do her any favors to grow so attached to me, anyway. This would be good for her. She had her whole life ahead of her.

“I plan to see the south eventually, anyway, and the only real way back from the north is through Roko. So I’ll see you again someday, hopefully soon. Maybe we can even go south together,” I said, off-handedly, before immediately regretting it when I saw the hope in her eyes. “Maybe,” I repeated.

“Meaila and I will get stronger, then, strong enough that you’ll take us. I promise,” the nine year old girl said seriously.

I sighed. “Right. Do that. But do it for yourself, yeah?”

Treepo tried to get away from Maeila, but, perhaps influenced by her tamer, the pointed muskoon was sticking right by my familiar’s side. I squat down to separate him from her, and pet the cute weasley beast on her head.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“You take care of Soa, Meaila,” I said, giving her a little scritch behind her ear.

* * *

Back on Buda’s back, the convoy sat stuck in, of all things, traffic.

The procession out of the north gate of Roko was enormous, with plenty of people, goods, and service providers heading towards Horuth’s capital. I leaned back, bored, waiting for us to get moving.

People watching kept things interesting for a while, scanning and appraising people for any sorts of new information that I could file away for later. I ended up leaving Buda to wander a bit, striking up some conversations with people who would acknowledge me and chat–presumably other people who were equally as bored as myself, in order to bother talking with a ten year old–and glean what extra information that I could.

Wandering back over to the convoy I was a part of, I hopped up onto the wagon to sit next to Bilgus, his hands absently petting Gregory, in his lap, while the man rested his eyes. There wasn’t much for the tamer to do when he wasn’t driving his familiar.

“How’re you doing, Gregory?” I whispered to the flying nodmouse.

Gregory opened an eye, lifting his head, and yawned, then curled back up to go to sleep.

“Same as always, then,” I said with a little chuckle.

The line started moving so I returned back to Buda, and ever so slowly our convoy inched out of Roko, hitting the open road, though it was still packed with other convoys and caravans.

I sped Buda up, moving alongside Marshan, nodding a greeting.

“We’re going to peel off for a bit. Got to put this guy through his paces, check the area.”

Marshan tossed me a half-hearted wave, and Buda pulled off the road.

“All right, dude. Giddy-up,” I said with a grin.

We ran off into the tall grass that bordered the road north. I had some hunting to do.

* * *

It felt good hitting level 20 just from good old fashioned beast hunting. No major changes, huge battles, or emotionally scarring events. Just grinding, replenishing my inventory and supplying the convoy with meat, encountering new types of beasts to add to my bestiary, and proper practice and training.

Sitting down with my metasystem, I decided to fully spend all my skill points and catch back up. The past half year had been unusual with the draconewt, then bandits, and upturning my entire life with leaving Mirut and traveling. I wanted to get back to what I knew, and that was grinding and curating my skill set. So, as soon as I leveled up, I fully assigned all 20 SP. After the use of the remaining SP from my previous levels, these points were spread across my various magic circles, taming, inventory, and one-armed combat, evening them all out to 10% of the way to double-advanced mastery. I tossed the last couple of points into cooking. After eating some better food in Roko and adding some spices to my inventory, I wanted to get a little better at seasoning all the meat I was acquiring.

Pilus Horgson (Lv 20)

HP: 201/201

MP: 252/252

Status: Absorption, Protection

EXP: 36/2000

Skills: 3-Point Magic(+), 4-Point Magic(+), 5-Point Magic(+), 6-Point Magic(+), Acrobatics(+), Brewing, Butchery, Cooking, Detect(+), Enchanting(+), Foraging, Inkmaking, Inventory(+), Knotting, Literacy, Needlework, Negotiation, One-Armed(+), Ranged, Smithing, Stealth(+), Strength(+), Taming(+), Tanning, Two-Armed, Unarmed

Familiars: High Treehopper (Lv 10), Flying Nodmouse (Lv 10), Wooly Ramhog (Lv 10)

SP: 0

+ 3-Point Magic (10/100)

+ 4-Point Magic (10/100)

+ 5-Point Magic (10/100)

+ 6-Point Magic (10/100)

+ Acrobatics (0/100)

+ Brewing (0/10)

+ Butchery (0/10)

+ Cooking (4/10)

+ Detect (0/100)

+ Enchanting (0/100)

+ Foraging (0/10)

+ Inkmaking (0/10)

+ Inventory (10/100)

+ Knotting (1/10)

+ Literacy (0/10)

+ Needlework (0/10)

+ Negotiation (2/10)

+ One-Armed (10/100)

+ Ranged (0/10)

+ Smithing (0/10)

+ Stealth (0/100)

+ Strength (0/100)

+ Taming (10/100)

+ Tanning (0/10)

+ Two-Armed (0/10)

+ Unarmed (1/10)

I stretched, feeling good about my progress. It had taken a bit longer than I had initially planned, and required some pretty wild circumstances to make happen, but I was more or less at the level of growth I had hoped to be.

It had definitely slowed down, so readjusting my expectations for the future, I wasn’t sure how long it would take to hit level 30. Maybe not until I became an adult at fifteen years old, if I could only squeeze out one or two levels per year from monsters.

I pointedly ignored the fact that I was likely heading towards a warzone. It wasn’t my fight. There was no reason to assume I would get involved, and even if I did, it was as a merchant, not a fighter. I was still a child by this world’s standards, and furthermore, I didn’t feel any loyalty to the Horuth Kingdom. Why would I fight?

Certainly not just to grow stronger. I didn’t want that kind of strength.

That did beg the question why I was still pushing so hard to get strong. I was worried about other beasts like the draconewt that I could encounter, though I could likely avoid them if I stayed in towns and cities in the first place. That didn’t guarantee that beasts wouldn’t attack those towns and people I cared about within, though, and in that case I wanted to be able to protect them.

There were also dungeons. I didn’t yet understand what ignoring them might mean, but I assumed they were something that should be handled. I would need strength to clear harder dungeons.

As I was thinking about dungeons, I decided to pull out a skillfruit from my inventory. I had been saving these, not fully understanding what they would do. Appraisal told me they would enhance my skills when eaten, so I had been waiting until my skills were a bit stronger to get the most use out of the fruits’ potential.

There were a lot of factors to consider when it came to eating an unknown mystery fruit. Eating every random fruit I encountered in the jungle was a good way to poison myself. If the poison was strong enough, it could even be fatal. Glowbells, the jungle flower I used to make MP potions, were slightly toxic, and sufficient potion consumption caused potion sickness. To a nodmouse, though, the glowbell was fatally toxic.

Even if the skillfruit wasn’t fatally poisonous–and I didn’t really think it was–I had no idea what the short-term effect would be. Eating the fruit could advance one of my skills, or maybe even all of my skills, but it could knock me into a month-long coma while my body handled the upgrade. That would have been a huge problem when I was still a child in Mirut. The skill enhancement could come at the cost of my HP or MP or my levels, which would harm me now. Perhaps it would advance one skill, but at the cost of another.

I had been considering these factors on and off over the past two years, but there comes a time where one has to simply take a risk to gain a possible reward.

“Watch out for me, in case this goes bad,” I told my familiars. They grunted their concern in response.

I took a big bite of the fruit.

Ugh. Sour.

My mouth lit up from the surprisingly sour fruit, but I took another bite, finishing the entire thing. The flesh was soft and the texture was good, but the flavor wasn’t something I could easily enjoy. Needs sugar, I thought. Like grapefruit.

I sat still, waiting to see what I would feel, if anything, and when I didn’t notice a thing I popped open my menus again.

No skills advanced. Almost nothing had changed at all.

The only difference was that I now had an additional SP.

“Oh, come on,” I muttered, turning to Treepo. “Each fruit just gives me 1 SP? I should have just eaten them all when I got them to power up back then!”

Now that I was higher level, an additional 33 SP from all the fruit that I had was nice, but not groundbreaking. Also, eating them all would be wildly uncomfortable given how sour they were. I would have to experiment with them, maybe trying to turn them into a sweetened juice, like a potion…

Hmm. Actually.

Juicing them would, in effect, create a basic “skill point potion.” While that was of limited use to me, it would be incredibly helpful for children and other young people who wanted to learn new skills but couldn’t. It was a way to standardize education, both for literacy but also something like magic, without needing to force levels. That could be incredibly useful.

I looked down at the skillfruit pit in my hand. I would need more, if I wanted to help myself, and even moreso if I wanted to help others. I had no idea how this grew, though, as it had come from a defeated dungeon, or at least had been related to that phenomenon.

I should find another one. Perhaps then I could learn more.