Eventless Travel

As the cart rumbled along the dirt path, the soft creak of wooden wheels was the only sound that filled the air for a time. The dense forest stretched on both sides. It was peaceful, but the kind of peace that made some them wary.

Bao and Pao sat on the back of the cart, legs swinging slightly as they watched the trees pass by. Amukelo had taken a seat beside the merchant at the front, gripping the side of the cart just in case he needed to move fast. His reflexes were the best among them, so if anything happened, he would be the first to react. Bral and Idin walked on either side of the cart, their hands resting casually on their weapons but their eyes scanning their surroundings.

At first, everyone was quiet, keeping their guard up. But as time passed and nothing unusual happened, Bral broke the silence.

"Hey, Bao," he said, glancing toward the back of the cart. "What were those arrows you used during the golem fight? The ones that exploded? I've never seen anything like that before."

Bao looked down at her bow, tapping her fingers on the wooden frame before shrugging slightly. "When I was at an alchemist shop looking for potions, I noticed they had arrows with runes carved into them. At first, I thought it was just a gimmick, but I figured I'd check out a proper runic shop to see if it was a real thing. Turns out, they had an entire selection."

"So you just picked the explosive ones?" Idin asked, intrigued.

"Not exactly." Bao leaned back against the cart, resting her bow beside her. "There were different kinds, but the explosive ones were the cheapest. And even then, they weren't exactly cheap. Each one costs a gold coin."

Bral let out a low whistle. "One gold per arrow? That's pricey. But honestly, considering how much they helped against the golem, I'd say they were worth it."

"Yeah," Bao admitted. "They were. But I can't just fire them off whenever I want. I have to be strategic about it."

Idin grinned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It's crazy that things like that even exist. I wonder if they have anything like that for swordsmen."

Bao gave him a knowing look. "They do. The runic shop had scrolls with spell effects that could be applied on weapons or cast directly. Kind of like a single-use enchantment for weapons."

Pao, who had been listening with growing interest, suddenly chimed in. "Or—and hear me out—you could just learn magic and not have to pay for any of that."

Bao sighed, already knowing where this conversation was going. "Pao, we've been over this. Every fighting style has its pros and cons. Magic is powerful, sure, but you can't use spells endlessly. You have to manage your mana, and if you run out, you're screwed unless you have mana potions, which—by the way—cost money."

Pao waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But magic is just... cooler."

Bao's face went completely flat. "Yes. Of course it is."

Pao smirked, a wide, victorious grin spreading across her face. She clearly felt like she had won the argument, despite saying nothing of real substance.

Amukelo, still sitting at the front of the cart, couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at their back-and-forth. But even as he listened to their conversation, he couldn't shake a growing unease in his gut. Something felt off.

His fingers tightened slightly around the side of the cart as his eyes scanned the trees around them. It wasn't anything obvious—there was no movement, no sound out of place—but there was an instinctual feeling clawing at the back of his mind. The same feeling he used to get when hunting in the wilderness, the subtle awareness of unseen eyes watching from the shadows.

He leaned slightly toward the merchant, lowering his voice. "Hey, have you ever had any trouble on this road before?"

The merchant let out a weary sigh. "Not personally, but some of my friends have. Bandit attacks have been increasing lately. Some say it's just a bunch of small-time thugs, but others think there's something bigger going on."

Amukelo's brows furrowed slightly. "Bigger?"

The merchant nodded, adjusting the reins slightly as he guided the horse forward. "Some say there's an organized group behind it. Not just random thieves, but an actual bandit faction. If that's true, then it's only a matter of time before they start moving closer to the city."

That didn't sit well with Amukelo. He glanced toward Bral and Idin, but they were still engaged in their conversation. He decided not to say anything just yet. If it was just paranoia, there was no need to stir tension.

After some time of traveling they entered their destination, Whitebridge. Unlike Llyn, which had a strong adventurer presence, Whitebridge was the heart of commerce for the region. The streets were wide, well-maintained, and paved with polished stone rather than the usual dirt roads seen in smaller towns. Massive stone buildings lined the streets, each structure adorned with colorful banners displaying the emblems of different merchant families and trading guilds. 

The marketplace was unlike anything Amukelo had seen before. Stalls lined both sides of the main street, displaying rare spices, expensive silks, exotic fruits, and handcrafted jewelry. The scent of roasted meats mixed with the sharp aroma of foreign spices, filling the air with an enticing yet overwhelming fragrance. Every few steps, they could hear negotiations happening, some calm and professional, others heated and full of tension. Coin purses jingled, gold changed hands, and contracts were signed on the spot.

Despite the apparent prosperity, Amukelo's unease never left him. Even in the crowded streets, he felt it—that sensation of being watched. He kept scanning the crowds, but no one seemed out of place. He couldn't shake the feeling, but he also knew he couldn't exactly bring it up without sounding paranoid.

Bral and Idin had gotten onto the cart as the group made their way deeper into the city, past merchant villas and opulent buildings that served as trading offices for the wealthiest guilds. The closer they got to the merchant's guild, the busier the streets became. Large caravans blocked entire roads as workers unloaded and restocked them, shouting instructions to one another as crates and barrels were hauled into storage.

Finally, they reached their destination—a sprawling complex that was more of a fortress than a guildhall. The merchant's guild of Whitebridge was a towering structure of white stone, surrounded by high walls to protect the immense wealth stored within. Dozens of merchant carts were parked outside, each filled with goods from all over the region. Guards in polished armor patrolled the perimeter, ensuring that no thieves or rival traders caused trouble.

The merchant leading them pulled the reins to slow the cart and turned toward them. "I have an order to fulfill, so selling these goods won't take too long. But restocking the cart will take longer. I'll let you know the day before we leave."

Bral nodded, stretching his arms before asking, "Is there anything we can do to help in the meantime?"

The merchant scratched his chin in thought before nodding. "Actually, yes. You can help me move the goods from my cart to the buyer. There's quite a lot, and an extra set of hands would be welcome."

Bral gave a small smile. "Of course. That's what we're here for."

With that, they proceeded deeper into the guild's bustling storage yards. The sight that awaited them was staggering.

Everywhere they looked, merchant carts were lined up, some arriving, some leaving, and others being loaded or unloaded. Individual traders stood near their carts, haggling with guild representatives, while wealthier merchants commanded entire fleets of carts, their goods stacked high and guarded by hired mercenaries. The sheer volume of trade happening here was overwhelming—dozens of transactions being made at once, goods changing hands by the minute.

Among the many merchant groups, one stood out.

At the far end of the yard, a massive caravan of fifteen carts was stationed. Unlike the smaller, individual traders, this operation had an air of authority. The carts were arranged in perfect order, each one carrying an emblem that marked them as belonging to a powerful trade syndicate. Armed guards patrolled the area, keeping watch over the goods while men and women in fine clothing handled the paperwork.

The merchant they were escorting led them toward this group, where a tall, well-dressed man stood overseeing the operation. He held a long scroll in his hands, carefully reviewing a list of shipments.

The merchant approached one of the caravan's managers and said, "Hey, I arrived with the order."

The manager, a stocky man with sharp eyes, glanced at him before checking his documents. "You're two days late."

The merchant rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah… sorry about that. The roads have become dangerous. We can't travel without protection anymore, and since I can't afford full-time security, I had to wait until some adventurers took the quest."

Before the manager could respond, another voice interrupted. "No need to worry. It's better to delay than to get robbed."

The tone was smooth, confident—almost amused. "Trust me, I know that from personal experience."

They all turned toward the source of the voice.

Standing nearby was a man who exuded wealth and authority. He was tall, with neatly combed black hair and striking green eyes. His clothing was made of the finest materials—an elegantly tailored suit adorned with intricate golden embroidery. He had a slim but well-built frame, though it was clear that he was not a warrior.