Chương 157: Trouble Apparently Had Good Timing

The following morning, Sieghart finally saw the first unfamiliar town of his journey rising beyond a broad stretch of farmland, its low stone walls surrounded by windmills, grain fields, and narrow rivers reflecting the pale sunlight. Greymill was not his real destination. Sieghart intended to visit the human capital eventually, where larger libraries, wealthy merchants, magical researchers, and noble collections should provide considerably more opportunities for gathering knowledge unavailable inside Lunar Arc.

For now, however, Greymill sat directly along the road south, making it an obvious first stop. The town looked small, prosperous, and comfortably distant from every border currently producing monsters, invasions, or politically inconvenient wars. Sieghart rested both hands against the steering contacts and watched mana flow through the carriage engine. The rhythmic piston movement beneath him remained smooth enough that nothing sounded likely to explode during his first independent business stop.

He wondered what Greymill might actually contain. Perhaps nothing interesting awaited him beyond grain merchants, ordinary tools, cheap food, and enough local gossip to make continuing toward the capital feel immediately preferable. That would still be useful. Sieghart did not need every town to contain hidden magical disciplines or corrupted monsters. Buying something cheaply here and reselling it elsewhere could produce profit without risking internal contamination.

Ordinary commerce sounded refreshingly boring after his recent experiences. Sieghart could purchase agricultural tools, fabrics, preserved food, books, or crafted goods, then sell whatever another region valued more strongly during the journey ahead. The town entrance reinforced that impression. Greymill barely possessed a proper gate, consisting mostly of two short stone towers connected by an open arch wide enough for wagons to enter without slowing significantly.

No guards stopped travelers, inspected cargo, demanded documentation, or asked why an apparently fifteen-year-old boy drove an expensive horseless carriage without anyone else accompanying him through unfamiliar territory. Sieghart found the absence of questions suspicious for approximately three seconds before reminding himself that not every settlement operated like a frontier fortress expecting enemies to appear from nearby forests.

The residents entering beside him barely noticed ordinary wagons, yet his carriage immediately attracted attention because every other vehicle relied upon horses, oxen, or several strange domesticated animals pulling reinforced carts. Sieghart heard conversations quiet whenever he passed. Farmers stared openly, merchants glanced toward the missing harnesses, and several children followed the carriage for nearly half a street before adults called them back.

He groaned internally while guiding the vehicle between crowded buildings. Building something unusual and then becoming irritated when people noticed it was probably another contradiction he should have anticipated before leaving Seraphina. Then Sieghart wondered why the attention bothered him at all. His current appearance was already an illusion, his name did not need to remain consistent everywhere, and nobody here possessed enough information to recognize him.

Perhaps drawing attention occasionally would even become useful. Problems produced pressure, pressure forced adaptation, and adaptation had consistently pushed Sieghart toward discovering techniques that peaceful training rarely provided quickly enough. That reasoning sounded suspiciously similar to inviting trouble deliberately, so Sieghart decided not to examine it too closely. There was a difference between tolerating complications and actively becoming an idiot. Greymill itself matched the surrounding farmland.

Broad streets separated timber buildings with stone foundations, while mills, grain warehouses, bakeries, workshops, and trading stalls occupied most of the central district around the river. The town smelled considerably better than Chimerian territory, which Sieghart considered an achievement worthy of appreciation. Fresh bread, animals, sawdust, cooked meat, river water, and ordinary human sweat all remained comfortably recognizable.

He slowed near the market after noticing several rows of temporary stalls surrounding a stone fountain. Merchants displayed tools, clothing, preserved food, charms, seeds, cookware, weapons, books, and countless objects travelers might purchase impulsively. Sieghart parked beside several ordinary wagons and stepped down, briefly noticing how much easier traveling became when his possessions remained locked behind reinforced compartments instead of hanging entirely from one backpack.

Several merchants immediately looked toward him. Sieghart ignored the attention and began examining prices, comparing local goods against what he remembered from Seraphina while considering which products might sell better farther south. Grain was obviously cheap here, but transporting enough to matter would consume valuable cargo space. Agricultural tools were similarly inexpensive, though ordinary metal products offered little profit unless Sieghart improved them personally through runic engineering.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He stopped near a stall selling crafted knives, bought three inexpensive utility blades, and mentally planned simple heating, sharpening, or reinforcement effects he could engrave during the evening if he found somewhere quiet. That was exactly the kind of business Sieghart wanted.

Small improvements, useful products, modest margins, and enough movement between towns that nobody questioned why the same young merchant kept producing enchanted equipment. Then Sieghart noticed books. Every other commercial calculation immediately became less important. A narrow stall near the fountain contained several uneven stacks protected beneath waxed cloth, their covers ranging from cheap stitched paper to older leather bindings with faded titles. Sieghart approached before consciously deciding to do so.

Apparently, dying beneath an avalanche of bookshelves in his previous life had done absolutely nothing to damage his relationship with printed knowledge. He considered that psychologically healthy enough. Unless he encountered one with teeth. After reincarnation, Sieghart had learned not to dismiss that possibility completely. Somewhere in this ridiculous world probably existed a carnivorous magical book waiting for someone sufficiently curious to open it.

The merchant noticed his attention and began recommending travel guides, popular adventure stories, religious texts, romantic novels, and several supposedly rare collections that looked suspiciously identical to cheaper books stacked underneath them. Sieghart ignored the sales pitch and examined technical titles instead. Most were disappointingly basic, though several concerned subjects useful enough that he did not care whether they contained advanced magic.

One illustrated volume described medicinal plants found throughout the central human territories, including preparation methods, poisonous lookalikes, seasonal growth, and which species became dangerous after absorbing excessive ambient mana. Sieghart bought it immediately. Another book covered edible wild plants, roots, berries, mushrooms, and herbs commonly found beside roads, forests, plains, and riverbanks throughout the southern territories he intended to explore. That one joined the first.

Food Creation did not exist inside his Status, and depending entirely upon purchased supplies during long journeys sounded unnecessary when the world already grew perfectly edible things for free. The third interesting book made Sieghart stop longer. Fundamentals of Barrier Magic. Sieghart opened it carefully and found diagrams describing stationary defensive fields, anchored magical walls, directional shields, and structures maintained around locations rather than directly around a caster's body.

Protection reinforced him personally. Mana Shield created a construct he could position independently. Neither worked exactly like the barriers described across these pages. That distinction immediately made the book worth buying. Sieghart had already learned how dangerous direct impacts became when Protection broke, while Mana Shield could fail against attacks carrying enough force to overwhelm the construct before he repositioned it.

A proper barrier might let him defend an area, reinforce his carriage, protect allies, or create multiple defensive layers before enemies ever reached his personal Protection. He added the book to his purchases and paid without negotiating aggressively enough to attract attention. Information became increasingly expensive only when sellers realized exactly how badly someone wanted it.

Sieghart stored the books inside his carriage, carefully placing them behind reinforced cabinet doors before returning toward the driver's seat and continuing through Greymill's crowded central district. The market had already produced enough value to justify stopping. Even if nothing else happened here, Sieghart had acquired new trade goods, survival information, and another magical field worth studying later. For once, perhaps a town would remain exactly what it appeared to be.

That thought lasted less than five minutes. Sieghart followed the main southern road until traffic stopped completely ahead. Several wagons had formed an uneven line across the street, their drivers standing outside instead of attempting to move. He slowed immediately, reducing mana reaching the Fire Runes until the engine settled into a low mechanical rhythm. Whatever blocked the road had attracted enough people that simply forcing his carriage around them would become difficult.

More travelers joined the gathering from side streets. Several looked irritated, others worried, while one merchant loudly complained that his cargo needed to reach another town before nightfall. Sieghart leaned slightly from the driver's seat and activated Magic Vision briefly, searching the crowd for obvious spell preparations, hidden threats, or abnormal mana concentrations before deciding whether the situation deserved involvement. Nothing immediately looked dangerous. That almost made him more suspicious.

Several overturned wagons occupied the road ahead, though none appeared damaged enough to explain why dozens of people had stopped instead of simply moving everything aside. A group gathered around something beyond them, blocking Sieghart's view. He could hear overlapping voices, arguments, and someone repeatedly insisting that nobody should touch whatever caused the obstruction. Sieghart stopped the carriage completely. He considered reversing. There were probably other roads.

Then someone near the crowd noticed him. The man looked middle-aged, broad-shouldered, and exhausted enough that whatever problem blocked the road had already consumed most of his patience before Sieghart arrived. His eyes moved toward Sieghart's strange carriage, then toward the apparent fifteen-year-old driving it alone. Confusion appeared first, followed almost immediately by calculation. Sieghart knew that expression. Someone had just looked at him and seen an opportunity. That was rarely good.

The man stepped away from the crowd and started walking directly toward Sieghart with enough urgency that several nearby travelers turned to watch. Sieghart rested one hand against the steering wheel and the other near his coat, already preparing Telekinesis, Protection, and enough Wind Magic to leave quickly if necessary. He had been traveling independently for less than two days. He had bought three books. Made no enemies. Started no wars. Barely spoken to anyone.

And somehow trouble had already selected him from across an entire crowded street. Sieghart sighed.

"That was fast."