Beginner Magic and a Short Sword: The Jack-of-All-Trades Peddler Trades Peacefully Again Today - Request for Escort

The smell of stew drifted through Orvielle at dusk. Dan walked along the stone-paved old highway, quietly trying to calm the growling in his stomach. He was a forty-year-old man with an old slash scar running down his left cheek. Gray was mixed into his short dark-brown hair, and his gray eyes caught the setting sun with a faint gleam. He had a sturdy, medium build, wore leather traveling clothes, and the hem of his thick overcoat swayed in the wind. At his hip hung a short sword with a magic gemstone set into it. On his back was an item bag he'd finally been able to buy after ten years of work. Inside it were still about three bundles of dried medicinal herbs that hadn't sold today. "...I'm hungry." The muttered words, meant for no one, were swallowed by the cobblestones. Whenever he came back to this city, he thought the same thing. Orvielle was the central city of the Verdian trade sphere, with a population of eighty thousand. About three hundred years ago, after the war called the Ash Crown War—a dispute over crystal vein rights—ended, this area became a place where merchants and adventurers could come and go freely. The nobility's power was weak, and the merchants' guild and adventurers' association kept the city running. Shrines to the Crystal Vein faith stood all over the city, and in spring they bustled with thanksgiving festivals. Dan made his living as a peddler in a corner of that world, with a donkey and a small covered wagon. "Old man, you're early today." When he passed through the curtain of the inn called The Dull-Colored Horn, a voice came flying from behind the counter. It was the owner, Baldo. A small, sixty-five-year-old man with a graying beard. His small, sharp black eyes glinted for a moment as if appraising a regular's face. He was taciturn but caring, and he compromised less than anyone when it came to the taste of food. "The west market closed early today. The leftovers go to tomorrow." "Hmph. Herbs, eh? If they're dried, there's no need to rush." As he said that, Baldo stirred the big pot in the back. The smell of meat and root vegetables simmering thickly spread through the whole shop. Dan sat down at the farthest seat and lowered the item bag from his shoulder. The stew at this shop filled you up for eight copper coins. Lodging was two silver coins. By Orvielle's standards that was on the cheap side, but for Dan it counted as a luxury. "Stew, large portion." "Got it." Baldo said nothing and brought out a bowl a size larger than usual. It was a silent service for a regular. Dan gave a slight bow and picked up a wooden spoon. When he took a sip, the meat fell apart on his tongue. The salt was just right. The sweetness of the vegetables seeped out, soaking into his tired body. "...Good." "Of course it is." A short exchange. That alone was enough. As Dan moved his spoon, he looked back on today's peddling. At the west market he'd sold three bundles of dried herbs and earned a few copper coins. After that, he'd stopped by a regular blacksmith and asked him to maintain the fire-attribute short sword in his stock. That was an item he'd bought for three gold coins. Ever since the crystal vein depletion became a concern, the price of magic gemstones had been creeping up. A sword with a fire attribute enchantment might now sell for four gold coins. But Dan didn't rush. A peddler doesn't compete on market prices. Sell what's needed, to whom it's needed, when it's needed, in the amount needed. If he could make a living that way, that was fine. "Dan, you're here." The curtain swayed, and a young woman poked her head in. It was Mireille, who worked the reception desk at the merchants' guild. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. She tied her brown hair back in a single bundle and wore a dark navy uniform with the guild emblem. "...A job?" "Glad you're quick on the uptake. Do you have a moment?" Mireille sat down across from Dan. Baldo silently set down a glass of water. She took a sip, then cut in with a serious face. "I'm looking for guards for an herb transport caravan heading to the northern highway. You're mid-rank upper, right? Will you hear me out?" "I'm a peddler now. I don't take guard jobs." "I figured you'd say that. But this time we're short on guards. The people I usually ask all hate the northern highway. So your name came up." Dan set down his spoon. "The northern highway, huh." The northern highway was the road stretching to the northwest of the trade sphere. Recently, caravans had been disappearing on that road. Only one guard came back, and apparently he couldn't speak properly about what happened. Among the merchants, there were rumors that something connected to the crystal veins was stirring. "I've got nothing but a bad feeling about this." "Honestly, I'm not eager either. But these herbs are meant for the clinic in Luka Village. They still don't have enough medicine to get through the winter." Luka Village. A supply village along the old highway, sixty kilometers east of Orvielle. Known as a collection point for herbs, and Dan had been there several times himself. "...Isn't there anyone else who can go?" "Everyone refused. You're my last hope." Mireille looked Dan straight in the eye. As a merchants' guild receptionist, she'd dealt with Dan for nearly ten years. Counting from his adventurer days, even longer. "Just this once. Once this is over, I won't send any more guard jobs your way. I won't get in the way of your peddling either. I promise." Dan looked out the window. The sun had set, and lights were beginning to come on along the street. "...Fine. Just once." "Thank you. That helps." Mireille smiled in relief. Dan went back to his stew. It was good. Good, but somehow it tasted a little thin. The next day, Dan sat facing a young man in the merchants' guild waiting room. "I'm Rick. I'll be accompanying you as a guard this time." A nineteen-year-old beginner adventurer. His bright brown hair was cropped short, and his amber eyes shone brightly. At a hundred and seventy-eight centimeters, he stood a head taller than Dan. A leather chest guard and a brand-new longsword. His straight-backed stance was full of the spirit of someone ready to rack up achievements. "Dan. Nice to meet you." "Um, can I ask you one thing?" "What?" "I heard you're mid-rank upper, but, well... is that true? You look a little plain, I guess." Without hesitation, Rick looked over Dan's leather traveling clothes and worn-out coat. His gaze lingered on the short sword at Dan's hip too. "It's true. But I don't have any specialized strength. I'm what you'd call a jack-of-all-trades." "A jack-of-all-trades, huh." "I can only use beginner magic for wind, earth, water, and fire. I've gotten by through chantless casting and clever shaping. These days peddling is my main work." Rick thought for a moment, then snorted. "Well, as long as you've got real skill, that's fine. I want to go from beginner to mid-rank this time. I'll take down an orc or two, just you watch." "Orcs move in packs. Take down one, and three more come from behind." "Well, I mean, you don't know until you try, right?" Rick's voice held unfounded confidence mixed with a little impatience. Dan said nothing more. His younger self had been much the same. Departure was the next morning. Back at the inn, Dan began inspecting the covered wagon. In the donkey shed behind the inn, his partner was eating hay. It had no name. Dan called it "you." "We'll be out for a while starting tomorrow." The donkey only twitched its ears and didn't stop eating the hay. Dan loaded bundles of dried herbs onto the covered wagon. Some to sell along the way, and some to deliver to Luka Village. Then he took the fire-attribute short sword from the item bag and placed it in the corner of the wagon bed. The magic gemstone embedded in the blade glimmered red in the dusk light. "You're going to sell that?" At some point, Baldo had come to stand at the entrance of the shed. "If there's a good time to sell along the way. With the crystal vein depletion, gemstone prices are up. Selling it now wouldn't be a bad idea." "Hmph. I don't understand business, but eat before you go." "Yeah." Baldo said only that and went back inside the inn. The night before departure. Dan and Rick sat around a table at The Dull-Colored Horn. Baldo's special stew steamed in front of them. "This is really good." "The owner here doesn't compromise on food. Remember the taste." "That's got nothing to do with guarding, though." "It does. If you're hungry, you can't grip a sword." Rick gave an ambiguous nod, as if he understood or maybe didn't, and dug into the stew. As Dan moved his spoon, he spoke quietly. "Let me say just one thing." "What is it?" "Guarding is a job of protecting the cargo. Defeating enemies isn't the goal. The job isn't done until the caravan arrives safely." Rick stopped his spoon for a moment. "...I know that." His voice was a little stiff. He didn't understand. Dan could see that clearly. But he said no more. Words alone wouldn't sink into a young guy's gut. Some things you only understand after you've been hurt. "Well, let's eat." "Huh?" "Right now it's food. You can do the job starting tomorrow." Rick looked deflated and went back to his stew. Dan looked out the window. In the night of Orvielle, the lights of the crystal vein shrines floated faintly. He remembered something a man who'd once been his comrade had said to him. "You're versatile, but that's all you are." Back then, those words had stung his chest. He'd regretted his lack of specialized strength countless times. But now it was different. Those words had lost their pain and become just a memory. Forty years old, single. A mid-rank upper jack-of-all-trades. He'd tumbled into peddling and earned his daily bread with a donkey and a covered wagon. Since when had he been able to think, from the bottom of his heart, that that was fine? The next morning, Dan watered the donkey and steered the covered wagon toward the old highway. Morning mist wrapped the city, and the cobblestones were damp. Rick threw on his brand-new coat, shouldered his longsword, and wanted to walk ahead. "We should hurry more. We need to cover as much distance as we can before dark." "We keep the wagon's pace. The cargo gets damaged. The donkey gets tired too." "But at this speed, the orcs will catch up to us." "Orcs are nocturnal. Pushing too hard during the day and being exhausted at night is more dangerous." Rick twisted his lips in dissatisfaction but said no more. Dan gripped the reins and walked in time with the donkey's pace. On the wagon bed were the dried herbs and the fire-attribute short sword. And a few small goods to sell at villages along the way. With the crystal vein depletion, fire-attribute gemstone prices were up. If he sold that sword now, it'd fetch four gold coins. If he found a buyer along the way, he'd make one more coin than the purchase price. But money wasn't the only thing on Dan's mind. Delivering. Protecting. Selling. Buying. These were the things he'd repeated over and over since becoming a peddler. He'd never put into words what they meant. Ahead on the old highway, the morning sun was rising. Dan let out a small breath and lightly patted the donkey's back. "Let's go." Rick started walking a step ahead. His back still looked somehow precarious. Watching him, Dan quietly gripped the reins again.

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Episode 1

Name: Beginner Magic and a Short Sword: The Jack-of-All-Trades Peddler Trades Peacefully Again Today
Author: Novelia

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