Twenty-some days later...
A boy stumbled out of the thinning treeline, exhausted beyond measure, his legs barely holding him upright.
The robe he wore—once white, now a patchwork of yellow, black, red, and every shade of grime in between—looked worse than a dishrag. Strips of fabric, all that remained of his original clothes, were held together by pale green vines wrapped crudely around his body, barely covering the important bits. Strips of bark, tied to his feet, served as makeshift shoes. Only the small pack on his back had survived the journey relatively intact.
Never again, Raymond thought, staring at the wide, flat dirt road before him. Never again charge into unfamiliar territory like that.
He turned and looked back at the forest one last time. Twenty days. He'd made it out alive.
In those twenty days, he'd managed to memorize seven symbols from the mysterious book. And after the talking tree had up and walked away, Raymond had pushed deeper into the woods, relying on the chip to guide him around the worst of the predators. Sure, he'd had a few close calls with the flesh-eating plants, but overall? He'd survived.
The red fruit had done something to him, too. Changed him. His genes, the chip said. He was stronger now. Faster. His endurance had improved, and his skin felt tougher—not by much, but enough to notice. Enough to matter.
The forest had been full of wonders. And horrors. He'd seen things that would give him nightmares for years—if he lived that long.
After the tree left, Raymond had spent a full day resting before continuing. Moving carefully, keeping his distance from the big predators, he'd used the chip to record everything. Animal calls. Plant structures. Every scrap of data he could gather.
Out of curiosity—and a healthy dose of self-preservation—he'd spent hours watching a family of those bear-like creatures from across a wide river. The ones that had nearly killed him on his first day. Five meters tall, covered in black bristly fur. He named them "Black mane Bears." They were top predators in this part of the forest. And once the chip had analyzed and catalogued their vocalizations, Raymond had something new: a way to talk to them. Sort of.
For the rest of his journey, when he ran into trouble, he'd just broadcast the appropriate bear sounds. The local wildlife might have found his appearance confusing—he didn't look anything like a Black mane Bear—but the growls and roars blasting from his position sounded real enough. Most creatures took one listen and fled. Saved his life more than once.
The plants, though. The plants were another story.
They didn't care about sound. They just... reacted. Vines that lashed out without warning. Trees that sprayed knockout gas. Flowers that smelled so sweet they made you hallucinate, draw you in close, and then... well, Raymond didn't want to know what came next. He'd nearly walked into three different death traps before the chip built a decent reference library.
By the time he reached the forest's edge, he had images and audio for dozens of predators and thousands of plants. The dangerous ones, he could now recognize from a distance. The harmless ones, he could ignore.
Except for that one incident on day fifteen.
A young Black mane Bear—male, barely two meters tall, probably just matured—had gotten confused by the audio broadcasts. Instead of running away, it had followed him. For two whole days.
It wasn't aggressive. It was... interested. In a way that made Raymond deeply, profoundly uncomfortable. The thing kept staring at his backside. Kept sniffing the air around him. Kept trying to get closer, making these weird huffing sounds that the chip translated as... courtship.
Raymond had spent forty-eight hours walking stiff-legged, terrified to make any sudden moves, praying the bear would lose interest. Finally, on the third morning, it had wandered off, looking back at him with what Raymond could only describe as longing.
He shuddered, shoving the memory away. Don't think about it. Just don't.
He stripped off his rags and pulled out the last intact robe from his pack—the spare Gumede had given him. It felt almost civilized against his skin. He fastened the gleaming badge to his chest and turned his attention to the road.
A proper road. Wide, flat, packed dirt. Deep wagon ruts cut into the surface, proof that traffic passed this way regularly. Real people. Real civilization.
He waited at the roadside, patient, watching. Eventually, a massive caravan appeared in the distance—wagons, horses, people. Dozens of them.
Raymond's heart leaped.
The caravan spotted him too. It ground to a halt, and several riders broke away, galloping toward him.
He watched them approach, eyes narrowing, body tensing.
Fine armor on the lead rider. Expensive gear. Behind him, the men wore gray and black—simple colors, but the clothes were well-made. Professional guards, not peasants.
They reined in about a hundred meters out, dismounted, and hurried forward on foot. The lead man—a muscular brute with a thick beard—stopped short, bowed so low his spine must have creaked, and spoke in a voice dripping with deference:
"Most noble and powerful Wizard, how may this humble one serve you?"
Raymond stared at him.
The silence stretched.
The big man's brow beaded with sweat. He bowed even lower. "I am Haig, captain of the caravan guard. Whatever you require, Great One, name it and it shall be done."
Raymond's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Another beat of silence. Haig's hand twitched behind his back—a signal. A younger man behind him stepped forward, holding something in both hands, approaching slowly, reverently. He stopped before Raymond and extended his offering: a purse. Gold coins inside. Lots of them.
Raymond blinked.
The young man trembled, sweat rolling down his cheeks, his whole body shaking with barely contained terror. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
Interesting.
Finally, Raymond spoke. "Where are you from? Where are you headed?"
Audible relief swept through the group. Haig straightened slightly and answered quickly.
They'd left the Oran Empire two days ago, he explained, bound for the port of Kaiton in the Kingdom of Orjaso. The journey would take them through several smaller kingdoms—about a month total travel time. Haig himself wasn't really a caravan guard; he was captain of the city watch in Kaiton, pulled into this duty because the shipment was urgent.
The men kept their heads bowed. Kept trembling. Kept waiting.
Raymond let out a slow breath.
"I'd like to travel with you," he said.