The Gate Traveler

Once we returned to the road, I took out my bike and attached the trailer. Stretch jumped in before I finished locking the frame, his tail wagging so hard it smacked the sides. This stretch of the road was more open. Fewer trees hid the view, and more fields or low hills were visible. It made the ride more pleasant, and I stopped a couple of times to take pictures of small, picturesque houses standing among fields of grain. Most of the fields we passed looked ripe, at least in my limited understanding, and it made me wonder if it was spring or autumn. I didn't know what the weather was like in this world, but I was relatively sure it was too warm for winter and too cool for summer.

After six hours of riding, my thighs burned, and I thanked God, and myself, for the Heal Muscles spell. It had been a long time since I needed to use it constantly, but the extended pedalling sessions on the endless roads were on another level of physical activity. We passed a few resting stops on the way, with people or without, but I didn't stop since I wanted to cover more ground. Now that I wanted to stop, no rest stop appeared. Not that I planned to sleep in one, with my alien-looking gear, but some company for dinner could have been nice. Finally, after another hour of pedalling, I stored the bike and we veered off the road in search of a resting place for the night. I found one quite easily. Less than ten minutes after I started looking, we came across a narrow stream, with a grassy patch right beside it. Some trees ringed the area, creating a nice natural ceiling. I cooked us dinner, drank a beer by the fire, and went to sleep early. A long day of pedalling left me worn out.

Around lunchtime the next day, we spotted a caravan in the distance, and I suspected it was the same one we had encountered earlier. In four days, they had covered a distance that took me less than a full day. Their pace wasn't insulting to snails but to molecules!

As we rolled past the line of carts, a group of children jumped up from their seats.

"Shrech!" one of them shouted, pressing his face to the wooden railing.

"Candy!" another called out, bouncing in place.

"Candy man's back!" a girl squealed.

"Got any more?" the boy I healed called out, already holding out grubby hands in blind optimism.

I reached into my Storage and lobbed a few wrapped sweets their way. They scrambled to catch them with gleeful squeals. The parents did not share the enthusiasm. One mother pursed her lips so tightly it looked painful. A man further down slowly turned his head to glare at me over his shoulder, the disapproval rolling off him in waves. Another woman narrowed her eyes, arms folded. I offered them my most innocent smile and kept pedaling, whistling under my breath. Nothing like a sugar rush to liven up a long trip.

When we reached the head of the procession, I eased off the pedals and coasted alongside the caravan leader's horse. He glanced down at me, and his expression brightened when he saw me. "John! Good to see you again."

"Hey there," I replied, shifting on the bike seat as the ride caught up with me. My thighs gave a small protest, and I stretched out my legs. "Just wanted to check if everyone here is doing well. Does anyone need my help?"

He straightened in the saddle, giving a quick scan of the wagons behind him. "We're all fine, thank you. No problems so far."

"That's good to hear. We're headed to the nearest town. How about you? Where are you headed?"

"Ah, we're also heading there." He patted the neck of his horse, which flicked its ears. "At our pace, we might reach it in four or five days."

"Really? I might arrive tomorrow evening or the next day before lunch."

He chuckled, adjusting his reins. "Yes, we do move quite slowly, don't we? Traveling with children and all the wagons takes time."

I smiled and gave him a nod. "Well, I'll see you in town then."

With that, I waved goodbye. He returned the gesture with a warm smile. Stretch and I continued on our way, leaving the caravan behind.

On the third day of our journey, we arrived at our destination. The caravan leader called it a town, but in my opinion, it resembled a large village more than a town. The main road ran through the center, packed dirt with shallow cart ruts and a few flat stones near the entrances to the buildings. On both sides stood about ten shops. They looked old and weathered, with hand-painted signs. There was a smithy, a general store, what appeared to be a bakery, a pottery shop, a place selling barrels, and some other basic service stores. Smoke curled up from chimneys, and the scent of fresh bread mixed with the sharper smells of burned grease and manure.

Side streets branched off the main road on both sides, lined with small houses. Most had vegetable gardens in the front and sheds or pens in the back. A few had chicken analogs wandering around. They were bigger and more colorful than the chickens on Earth, with yellow, white, and orange feathers, but they did cluck like normal chickens. Laundry hung from ropes between porches, and one house had a pair of boots drying on a fence post. Beyond the houses, the cultivated fields began. Long rows of crops stretched out in both directions, with workers moving between them. Irrigation ditches, small water towers, and troughs were set at intervals. A few kids sat by the roadside, watching us arrive with curiosity.

When I put my bike away, Stretch was very disappointed. He hung his head and tail, and looked at me sideways with sad puppy dog eyes. Cute.

I asked the watcher kids where I could find the inn. Even though I cast my Clean spell and washed in streams and rivers here and there, I really wanted a nice hot bath.

Stepping into the inn felt like stepping into a scene from a storybook. It had a long common room with wooden tables and chairs, and a fireplace at the far end with a pot hanging over the flames on a hook. On the left side stood a long bar lined with barrels, behind which an innkeeper with an enormous belly and red face diligently cleaned a metal cup with a towel. It looked so perfectly "fantasy land" that I couldn't help but smile.

The innkeeper noticed me and smiled too. "Welcome, stranger."

"Hello," I replied, stepping closer to the bar. I leaned on the counter and inspected the barrels behind it, curiosity burning to know what was in them. "How much is a room, a meal, and a hot bath?"

"The room is three coppers a night, the meal two coppers, and a bath is two coppers if you want it in the room. If you don't mind the common washroom, it's one copper," he said.

I pointed at Stretch, who was busy sniffing around the room. He paused to inspect a chair leg before moving on to a table. "Do you mind if my dog stays with me in my room?"

"No. It's your dog, do whatever you want with it," he said, waving a hand dismissively and reaching for the towel to wipe down the next mug.

"Great. I'll take three nights, three meals a day, and a hot bath every evening in my room," I said.

"That will be three silvers and three coppers. Do you want me to feed your dog?"

"No, I have food for him," I said and took out a pouch with coppers. I counted out thirty-three coins and put them on the counter.

He took out one coin and examined it closely, eyebrows raised. "Never seen coins like these. Where are you from?"

"Across the sea."

He let out a soft laugh. "Fancy stuff. Bigger too. Should charge you less."

"Keep the change," I said with a smile.

He blinked. "Change what?"

"Just an expression. Means you can keep the extra."

"Ah. Got it," he said, and put them away in a wooden box behind the bar.

"Also, can you change copper to silver or gold?" I asked.

"The same coins?"

"Yes."

"I'll be happy to do that."

"How much gold and silver do you have?" I asked.

He gave me a strange look, his expression growing wary. Realizing how my words might sound, I quickly added, "Don't worry, I'm not trying to rob you. I'm a healer. I heal, not harm. I just have a lot of copper." Taking out ten pouches of copper from my Storage, I showed him the contents. "I'll even give you the pouches as a gift to apologize for alarming you."

His face relaxed into a smile, and he nodded. "Alright."

He poured the coins on the counter from the pouches and counted them at lightning speed. His fingers moved from one coin to the next so fast it was hard to follow them. Skill? I almost snickered at the thought of a skill called "count fast." After a few moments, he nodded and handed me four gold and ten silver coins.

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"Here you go," he said, passing the coins over with a friendly smile.

"Thanks," I replied, storing the coins. "Can I get my key now? I want my bath right away."

"Of course," he said, reaching under the counter and producing a small brass key. He handed it to me, adding, "Your room is up the stairs, third door on the left."

I thanked him again and headed upstairs to my room. Inside, a wave of embarrassment washed over me. That comment about his money had probably been inappropriate. There was no real need for more coins; I already had plenty of gold from the mage. It was just curiosity that made me ask about the coppers and whether they could be exchanged.

An hour later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find the innkeeper standing there, a big wooden tub in his arms. He must have seen my surprised expression, because he chuckled.

"Expecting metal, were you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I didn't realize tubs could be made from wood," I admitted, stepping aside to let him in.

He laughed as he walked in and set the tub in the middle of the room. His wife appeared behind him, carrying two steaming buckets of hot water.

"We'll be back with more," she said. They left quickly, again promising to return soon with additional buckets to fill the tub.

After my tub was full, I slipped in and relaxed until the water was almost cold. Stretch tried to drink the bath water, so I gave him water and lunch. He looked at the raw meat unimpressed, then at me. I could almost see the question marks in his eyes.

"Listen, buddy, right now, when we are staying in town, I don't want them to see me feeding you mana-rich meat. I don't know how they'll react, so I can't cook it for you in the inn's kitchen. Eat raw today, and tomorrow we will go into the forest, make a fire, and I'll cook you burgers for a week. What do you say?"

He looked at me for a couple of seconds and then started eating. Right. That was on me. I always cooked for both of us but forgot I wouldn't be cooking while we were in town. I was impressed with his smarts. I didn't know if he understood the actual words I said or just got the gist from my tone, but it was still highly impressive. With each passing day, I grew more and more impressed with his breed, or maybe Stretch specifically.

After a long soak and a change of clothes, I headed down to the common room. Lunch was a thick root stew, with vegetables that were close enough to turnips, carrots, and potatoes that I could bravely assign them those names. There were also a few tough bits of meat floating near the bottom that tasted close enough to beef, but with a stronger or maybe harsher flavor. Like the beefiness had been turned up to eleven. Decent enough.

While I was finishing the bowl, I flagged down the innkeeper. "Is there a butcher in town? Or maybe a tanner or hunter?"

He scratched his chin. "No tanner. No hunters, either, not in town. But we've got a butcher. Ervil. You'll find him on the second street to the left of the main road. Small place with a red awning and a few hooks out front. Smells like blood."

"Perfect," I said, setting my bowl aside. "Thanks."

He nodded and went back to polishing mugs. The place was practically empty, with only one other table occupied by two men. When I walked in, I had been the only one inside. I couldn't understand where he found enough used and washed mugs to keep polishing them non-stop. I shook my head to get rid of the unrelated thoughts and went looking for the butcher.

The butcher was a burly man with a grizzled beard, busy at work in a shop that reeked of blood. The innkeeper hadn't been joking about the smell.

"Hello there," I called out, trying to catch his attention over the rhythmic thud of his cleaver.

He glanced up, his eyes narrowing. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unfriendly.

"I'm John. I'm looking to learn how to butcher a carcass."

He wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head. "I don't have time to teach you. Got enough work as it is."

I took out a bowl full of mana-rich goat meat, holding it out for him to see. His eyes widened, and he leaned in for a closer look. He held his hand over the bowl and his eyes got even wider.

"I can give you six Saks of this in exchange for teaching me," I offered.

He combed through his beard with his fingers a few times. "Six Saks, huh?" He looked me up and down, then back at the meat. "Alright, done and marked. Three days, during my routine work."

"Deal. When do we start?"

He pointed to a nearby carcass. "Now. Grab an apron, and let's get to it."

I quickly donned an apron and joined him at the table, ready to learn. "What is your name?"

"Hetton, but everybody calls me Hett."

"Nice to meet you, Hett, I'm John."

"You told me that already."

Right.

I rubbed my neck in embarrassment, and he laughed.

Hett's initial reluctance melted away as he began explaining the process, and we dove into the work immediately.

The next morning, we rode out to the forest early. Just a few meters in, we found a quiet spot, and I built a fire. I made breakfast for Stretch, which he inhaled, then finished cooking the rest of the bison and goat meat. With over fifty hefty burgers cooked and packed and the coolers cleaned out, we returned to town for my second day as a butcher's apprentice.​

For the next two days, I worked alongside Hett and learned how to butcher. It turned out to be a lot more involved than I had expected. He showed me where and how to cut, explained the various cuts and their uses, and then left me to work on my own. Besides the initial explanation, the man rarely spoke unless I was doing something wrong, and then he had plenty to say. Unfortunately for me, one prolonged explanation session wasn't enough to grasp the full extent of his butchering knowledge, so he constantly had a lot to say. But even with this unorthodox method of teaching, I learned quickly, especially the things he took the time to explain more thoroughly than in the initial overview. When he noticed that I was actually retaining his teachings, he stopped shouting "no, no" every time and instead provided me with proper explanations for various actions, starting to teach me in earnest.

On my third day in town, the caravan finally reached it. During the day, Stretch disappeared instead of dozing just outside the door. When I went looking for him, I found him soaking up the kids' pets and admiration. When I found Sami to say hello, I got another dinner invitation.

"And this time, you are not going near the fire," she said, wiggling her finger in warning.

The caravan leader waved me over. When I reached him, he asked me in an urgent tone, "One of our guards got injured. Would you be willing to help him?"

"Of course."

He led me towards where the injured guard was resting. The guard winced as I examined his legs, which were covered in bite marks, some of them looking quite infected. I cast Healing Touch, feeling the familiar warmth flow from my hands into his wounds. His muscles relaxed, but the infection was stubborn. "I'll need to cast it a few more times," I informed him, moving my hands to the next cluster of bites.

He grunted in response.

I cast Healing Touch again, followed by Fortify Life Force to boost his recovery. It took quite a lot of casts, but the wounds finally closed, and the redness of the infection faded.

"There, that should do it," I said, casting Clean on myself and him to clean off the blood. "Those bites were nasty. What happened?"

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I was digging a garbage hole. Didn't see the nest of jurbers until it was too late."

"Jurbers?" I asked. "Those green, small creatures, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, vicious little things with sharp teeth. They got me good."

An idea struck me, and I leaned in closer. "Can you tell me exactly where the nest is?"

His eyes widened, and he shook his head vigorously. "I wouldn't go near them if I were you. They might be small, but they're ferocious."

"I appreciate the warning," I said, nodding. "But I think I can handle them. Just point me in the right direction."

Reluctantly, he gave me the location, but didn't look happy about it. "Be careful," he warned me. "They're more dangerous than they look."

"Thanks, I'll be cautious," I told him, mentally marking the spot. I remembered the jurber I had encountered—small, green, and easy to kill. When I was searching the Archive for information about awakening, I came across a short note that kill notifications only appeared for monsters, not animals or beasts. That meant jurbers were monsters, and I wasn't harming innocent creatures. Well, semi-innocent. Given how aggressively the jurber jumped at me, I wouldn't call them innocent, even if they were just animals. As I walked away, a plan began to form in my mind. This could be a great chance to advance my looting spell.

I joined Sami for dinner, letting her take the lead as she cooked over the campfire. The flames flickered and danced, casting a warm glow on her face as she worked. Her hands moved deftly, handling the ingredients with ease even in the rustic setting. She served us a type of kebab called poonk, a local specialty. The aroma was mouthwatering, and I couldn't help but smile. "This smells amazing," I said, settling down on a log near the fire.

Sami beamed at the compliment. "I'm glad you think so. It's one of my favorites," she said, sitting across from me.

The poonk was delicious. The meat reminded me of lamb, but with a milder taste. It was also full of herbs and a sweet-tasting vegetable that was amazing. In my opinion, garlic would have added the finishing touch to the creation, but I didn't say anything. It was good as it was, and there was no point in offending the cook. And I didn't know if they even had garlic in this world.

We started eating, and the conversation flowed naturally. "So, what's the deal with the caravan?" I asked between bites. "It's massive."

Sami nodded, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin. "Most of the people are traveling merchants. They move between the kingdoms of Mara and Somer. The crown symbols on the wagons mark the capitals."

I looked at the nearby wagons and noticed two different crown symbols. One crown had pointier spikes, while the other was more rounded, with a star at the front. "And the rest?" I asked.

"People traveling for various reasons," she said. "Some don't want to travel alone. Others are looking for work along the caravan's route."

As we talked, I learned more about Sami. She was on her way home to her husband and kids after visiting her parents, who lived two towns away from where I met the caravan.

"How did you end up with a broken leg?" I asked.

She laughed softly, but her posture curled forward in embarrassment. "I fell off the hayloft while helping my father clean the barn," she admitted. "Not my smartest action."

Eventually, the conversation turned more personal. Sami spoke fondly of her husband and children, her eyes lighting up as she described them.

My chest tightened, and I looked away from the fire. "I had a wife once," I said, my voice softening. "Her death hit me hard."

Sami looked surprised. "But you're so young," she said, her brows knitting in confusion.

"I'm twenty-five," I clarified with a smile. "I married very young."

I told her about Sophie, with some appropriate editing for the world I was traveling in. How we met, the odd little habits she had, and the way she used to hum when she was deep in thought. The words came easier than I expected. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire or the way Sami listened without interruption, her expression open and kind. It felt good to speak of Sophie, not as a wound too raw to touch, but as someone who had been a part of me. The ache was still there, somewhere deep in the background, but it didn't grip me like it used to. I found myself smiling as I shared the smaller, sillier stories, like the time she accidentally burned the curtain or how she insisted on naming every stray cat that crossed our path. I laughed more than I thought I would, and for once, the memories brought more pleasure than pain.

The evening passed pleasantly, filled with laughter, quiet conversation, and the comfort of shared food. Eventually, the fire burned low, and Stretch yawned behind me. I stretched and yawned too. It was time to go to sleep. I told Sami goodnight and called Stretch to follow me. To be polite, and to prove to myself that not all my manners had been left in the wilderness, I found the caravan leader and wished him goodnight.

The mage approached me with a hopeful expression. "Did you decide to sell me the cold box?"

I shook my head with a chuckle. "Nope, not today," I said, patting her shoulder reassuringly before heading back to the inn.

As I returned to my room, I reflected on the past three days. They had been slow, but in a good way. Sometimes, slow was the best thing.