Chapter 3: Travel

“Lord magus!” Exclaimed the man in red and blue armour, quickly getting to his feet. “You have recovered!”

“Somewhat, thank you, captain.” Nodded the elderly magus. “These people are the fruits of our efforts, then? They don’t look like much… But the records do say that the past heroes were also normal people before the summoning. Curious, curious...”

He trailed off, gazing absently at the cave wall for a moment before he turned to face the man among us who asked the pointed, if not unjustified, question. “In regard to your question, yes and no. While we did indeed forcibly summon you, there were conditions in the spell pertaining as to who would be summoned. Among others, there is a condition that targets only people who are unsatisfied with their current lives and wish for excitement, in some way or form. Or, in other words, you all already wanted to leave where you were.”

“Naturally…” He said, raising a hand to forestall the same man’s question, “It could still be said that we kidnapped you. However, I ask you to think on this: we did everything we could to ensure that the people we summoned would not be torn from lives of contentment and happiness.” As he finished speaking the last word, he broke out into hacking coughs.

Waving off the captain’s concern, the old magi straightened himself. “No need for concern… But it might be best if I return to the healer’s tent for a while. Captain, heroes.” He nodded at us before turning and walking back into camp, supported by a cane I hadn’t noticed him carrying.

In his absence, another person spoke up. “What about mana? You forgot to explain that.”

“So I did.” The captain realises. “My apologies. Mana… To be honest, I’m a soldier; I don’t use much magic. You’d be likely to get a better answer from a magus.” Seeing our dissatisfied faces, he continued, “But I can give you a rough idea. Mana is… This sort of power. You take it in from the world around you, hold it within yourself and use it to fuel spells, enchantments and formations.”

While some of us looked at him uncomprehendingly, others were leaning forward slightly as they listened with rapt attention.

“Everyone is born able to hold different amounts of mana, and use different types of it, according to what I know. Those types are… Fire, water, earth, wind, light and darkness, not to mention the fusion elements of ice, lava, lightning, illusion, holy and decay. They all have their own strengths and weaknesses… But if I were to sit here and explain it all to you, we would be here all night.” The captain finished. “Not to mention I would likely get something muddled up and confuse the lot of you.”

He paused for a moment, perhaps expecting someone to ask another question. Nobody did. “If that’s all the questions, we’d best get you fed and bunked before the sun comes over the horizon. I’ll call someone over to lead you to the cooks in a minute.”

“What will happen after that?” Someone asked.

“Tomorrow, you mean?” The captain replied rhetorically. “We will be heading back to the fort, where you will be trained. But let us leave tomorrow for tomorrow.”

He gestured to one of the soldiers waiting nearby. “Follow this man to the cooks. The food here may not be fit for kings, but it is warm and filling, and just that is a blessing after a day like this…”

Turning around, he walked off into the camp, leaving us to follow the soldier he left behind. We got up, stretching our sore limbs and dusting ourselves off, and followed him to a large fire. A heavy-looking cauldron was seated upon it, emanating the scent of cooked meat and herbs. Tending to it was a thickset man who slowly stirred the contents with a large ladle.

“35 portions, please.” The soldier requested.

The cook’s expression didn’t change an iota as he continued to stir. “Mhm. Newbies eh? Line up. One bowl of soup, one hunk of bread, one cup of water. Line up twice and I’ll stir some laxative mushrooms into your bowl.” He patted a pouch at his waist. “I always keep some. Just in case.”

Right… Well, I for one am not going to risk it.

I was among the first in line, so I didn’t have to wait long to collect my meal. The cook handed me a bowl of soup and nodded to a table behind him, laden with utensils, cups and bread. Thanking him, I set my bowl down on the table and, with some difficulty, ripped a small chunk from the loaf. Those things were tough.

After that, I picked up my bowl again, collected a spoon and cup, filled the cup from a barrel and found an out-of-the-way piece of dirt to sit down on. I looked at the bread and hesitantly broke a piece off, putting it in my mouth. Logic told me softening the bread in the soup would be the best idea, but I had wanted to see just how it was.

I was still chewing a good minute later when Greg sat down beside me.

“Tough?” He asked.

Finally grinding it into small enough pieces, I swallowed them. “Tough.” I confirmed. “It’s best to dunk it after all. We’ll be here all night, otherwise.”

“That may be a slight exaggeration.” Greg noted, dunking the corner of his bread into the soup and taking a bite.

I feign a shocked look. “Exaggeration? Me? What are you talking about?”

Greg smiled through a mouthful of bread, but it faded as he looked around. “We really are in another world, aren’t we?”

“Yep.” I agreed.

He sighed. “I wonder what will happen to us next…”

“Obligatory training arc?” I shrugged. “Likely followed by the standard adventuring arc, final battle of good vs evil arc… The only real question is whether it ends with a crushing defeat, us returning to earth or us staying here forever.”

He looked at me in wonder. “How can you be so relaxed? You’ve never been the serious type, but I thought with all…” He gestured at the general surroundings, “This, you would be less sarcastic.”

“Nah, it only escalates.” I replied, poking out my tongue at him. “It’s a coping mechanism. Hard to be afraid of something if you’re laughing at it. Besides,” I pointed my spoon at him. “You’re too wound up. Relax a little. Take some deep breaths. Slowly count to platypus.”

“What?” He said, bewildered.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “You don’t know how to take deep breaths? Well, you just-”

“No, the count to platypus part. You can’t count to platypus.” He interrupted exasperatedly.

I shook my head. “Sure you can. You just need a bit of imagination. Take the individual letters, convert them to numbers, multiply them together as if it were some sort of algebraic function… Actually, that’s a bit too large… Add them together, and count to that number. It’s… 130. Platypus equals 130.”

“Right…”

We chatted idly for a while as we chipped away at our bread and drained our bowls. It wasn’t especially tasty, but it wasn’t bad, either. And it was filling.

Finishing, I groaned and stood up. “I’m going to ask someone where the loo is.”

He nodded, and I walked off to find a soldier. Before long, I’m sitting atop a pit toilet, trying my darndest not to inhale the pungent fumes ascending from below. For those who don’t know what a pit toilet is… The name is description enough.

After relieving myself and making use of one of the cleaner rags I could find in the pile, I returned back to the cook’s fire. After some more time had passed, we were escorted to a huge tent containing rows of straw mattresses.

…This will not be a comfortable night.

And indeed, the straw did poke and my clothes were far from my preferred choice of sleepwear. There were no sheets, either, so I spent a long while shivering. But, eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, I was woken up by the sounds of yelling and clashing metal. While that may sound alarming, it was actually just a soldier banging a pot and yelling ‘wake up’.

Over a dozen people groaned blearily, and some didn’t move at all.

I, on the other hand, got up immediately and put on my socks, shoes, glasses and watch. I checked my watch in the dim light, noting with some amusement that it stated the time was 6 PM. There was clearly some sort of time difference between our two worlds, or perhaps the days were longer?

After dressing myself, I stepped over to the bed next to mine, picked up one of the shoes lying by its foot and dropped it on the soundly sleeping figure upon it. Upon impact, the bed’s occupant performed a series of sudden movements that would have thoroughly entangled him, had there been any sheets. After a few moments, he collected himself and looked at the shoe in stupefaction.

“Morning, Greg.” I said.

He looked up at me blearily and yawned. “Wha time issit?”

Shrugging, I replied, “Another world, remember? Our watches don’t tell the time here.”

He blinked. “It wasn’t a dream?”

“Nope.” I confirmed.

“I’ll get my shoes on…”

After getting him up, I headed to the entrance of the tent, walking down the aisles of people and trying not to tread on anyone’s shoes.

A soldier noticed me leaving the entrance. “Morning. Breakfast is at the same place as last night. Do you remember the way?”

“Yes, thanks.” I’m normally not very good with directions, but this camp was set out in a very orderly manner, so it wasn’t very hard to find my way around.

By the time I reached the cook’s fire, there was already a long line of soldiers queuing for some grub. There was nothing for it but to just join the line and wait my turn.

At the front, the cook was pumping out bowls of porridge like a machine, and the line was moving along at a fair pace, so it didn’t look like it would be a massive wait.

By the time I reached halfway, a significant portion of the line behind me was made up by my co-workers, yawning and rubbing their eyes and still extraordinarily formally dressed for a military encampment.

A little while later I was glad to see the cook in front of me, slapping a ladle of porridge into a bowl and thrusting it at me with barely a glance in my direction. I took the bowl and passed him by with a word of thanks, taking a spoon and wooden mug from the table and filled the mug from the barrel of water nearby.

Seating was much more of an issue this morning, given all the soldiers around this time, but many of them were wolfing down their breakfast in a mere few mouthfuls, downing their water and placing all their dishes in a pile with nary a break in their stride. So there was still some room to spare.

A short meal and a pit stop later – the term is surprisingly literal now, isn’t it? – I found myself leading a still somewhat bleary Greg towards a convoy of carriages, along with our other well-dressed (although our clothing was a mite crumpled) compatriots.

The captain greeted us there, glancing over all of us and doing a quick head count. “Everyone is here. Good. We are going to travel back to the fort. Unfortunately, that is quite a distance – a few days travel – and if you all sit in the carriages the entire way, you will come out at the other end weak and sore.”

He smiled ominously. “Fortunately, we do not have enough carriages for all of you, so you will have to take it in turns walking instead.”

I got a vague notion that this would be exhausting.

“Split into three groups, and we will be on our way in no time.” He finished.

A few people looked like they were about to complain, but the captain turned and headed for the front of the convoy before anyone was able to voice a word, leaving them with nobody to complain to.

So, with no other option, we split into three groups. Our group was herded into a couple of carriages while the other groups followed us with longing gazes. The carriage started rolling, and we were finally off.

The seats were made of wood and had but a single layer of coarse fabric atop it that served as padding. I could feel every stick and stone the carriage rolled over with painful accuracy.

After half an hour of that, we were glad to be out of the carriage and stretching our muscles. We set off again at a decent pace, and thinking about what we were doing brought to mind just how little proper exercise I had gotten over the last two decades or so.

“Hey Greg,” I asked, “when’s the last time you exercised?”

“Yesterday.” Greg replied with a hint of pride.

I facepalmed. “Before we got transported here.”

He paused in though for a few moments. “What’s exercise?” He asks finally.

“Ah.” I nodded. “So, how badly do you reckon we’re screwed here?”

“It can’t be that bad.” He mused “We may not have the toned musculature of our youth-”

“That may be stretching it a bit.” I interrupted.

“-But with our age comes great experience, intellect and wisdom.” He continued undaunted.

I sighed. “Experience and intellect aside, we aren’t exactly wise, Greg.”

“Not exactly mature, maybe.” Greg joked. “But since we were chosen to be summoned, there must be some advantage we have that will let us survive here.”

“Wonder if this world has a system, or full fantasy with proper rules to the magic?” I mused.

“Well, there’s a simple way to find out.” Greg replied, before belting out a string of words. “Status, observe, inspect, help, options… state? Open status? Nope. Not a blue rectangle in sight.”

“There could still be status plates.” I noted.

“True.” He conceded.

Our conversation lapsed into discussions about magic in various fantasy worlds. Time passed, we went back into the carriage, back out, back in – a never-ending cycle of sore legs and lungs to sore backside to sore legs…

We stopped briefly for a meal around midday, but other than that it was just walking, walking, walking.

At least the air there was clean, free from all the pollutants of the modern world. That made it noticeably easier to breath, and it smelled much better, which in turn made the walk somewhat more bearable than it usually would be.

As this planet’s star set, we came up to a village. We camped the night outside; they couldn’t possibly accommodate all of the soldiers and people we have with us. We did, however, get fresher food that night, as the soldiers bought some surplus crop from the villagers. There was even some freshly baked bread, although its softness still couldn’t compare to modern loaves.

Considering the amount of pain my nerves were registering in my legs that night, it was astounding that I fell asleep so quickly. But in the morning I was greeted with stiff, sore limbs that made me half wish I’d made a ‘that’s gonna hurt in the morning’ joke the day before.

I nudged Greg with my foot to kick-start his waking process and headed outside to face the new day. Unfortunately, the new day did not like me, as I walked straight into a soldier as I left the tent.

A brief apology, a short walk and a decent wait later, I sat down with my bowl of porridge. Shortly after I finished my breakfast, Greg sat down next to me, frowning.

“Did you have to kick me in the face to wake me up?” He asked.

“Was that your face?” I replied in mock horror. “It looked like your rear in the dark.”

Greg’s frown twitched upwards, amused despite himself. “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“More of a roll, really.” I shrugged.

Not long afterwards, camp is packed up and we continue on past the village.

Over the past couple of days, what with all the travel and most of it behind carriages, we had become absolutely filthy. Our clothes were caked in dust and grime, and my poor shoes desperately needed polishing.

Unfortunately, a shower – or even a bath, for that matter – looked further away from me than wherever we were going. In a land bereft of modern technology as we are, it was doubtful that we would ever have the simple comfort of a hot shower ever again.

Still, there was nothing we could do but hunch our backs and bear it, so we continued onwards.

Our path led us past plains, around hills and into the woods. We plodded ever onwards, only growing sorer as the hours passed by, and our breath too short to engage in any conversation. It was almost a pleasant break when the convoy was attacked by wild leopards.

Almost.

It happened in a flash, a black form leaping out of the trees and extended its claws towards one of the soldiers nearby.

Without a moment of hesitation, the soldier thrusted his spear through the neck of the beast, causing it to instantly go limp.

But it didn’t end with a single leopard, and more and more dashed out of the forest.

In a panic, all of us otherworlders who were on foot at the time dashed for the carriages and crammed ourselves into them as fast as we could.

Meanwhile, the leopards were being decimated by the brutal efficiency of the well-trained soldiers, who quickly dispatched and dismantled them to add to the supplies. Despite the initial panic, it was all over in less than a minute, with a few of the slower leopards quickly turning tail and fleeing upon seeing the fates of their faster forebears.

Heart still pounding, I stepped back outside the carriage. That was the first time I saw a fight in real life. Of course, I had seen things like it in movies and games; things filled with masses of blood and gore. But that’s only half the picture – not even half.

The sounds of animals growling, being pierced by spear and sword, dying… No modern representation could convey that. And the smell… You could just smell the blood in the air, the stench of the many innards exposed for all to see.

No type of media could properly capture that. But maybe that was a good thing.

It didn’t take long for them to clean up, and soon we were on our way again. This time, we were constantly glancing into the trees, for fear that something else would pounce out at us. And maybe this time, the soldiers wouldn’t be as quick to react.

But despite our worries, nothing happened for the rest of the rest of the day. Nor during the next, when I, with trembling legs and searing lungs, lifted my gaze and saw upon the top of a mountain: a fort. And I rejoiced. Internally.

To be technical, the term ‘fort’ can refer to most any fortified structure – this was a keep, a heavily fortified inner structure surrounded by a smaller but still relatively high wall.

It was still a way off, and it looked somewhat underwhelming. From what I had read, medieval walls don’t get much higher than 12 meters, a paltry height in comparison to modern skyscrapers that could be over 100 meters tall; with some iconic structures being over a kilometre.

But the old stone and mortar structures have their own charm, I suppose. You certainly don’t see many medieval structures in this good nick back on Earth.

We stopped at the foot of the mountain. A small blessing, but one nonetheless welcomed. Even more welcomed was the news that all of us were to ride in the carriages up to the top, the reason being, to quote the captain, ‘So you don’t collapse into the moat as you cross.’ He means well, I’m sure.

Wait… Does that mean he had enough carriages for all of us the entire time?

He did, didn’t he.

That little… Strong, armoured and armed man who leads a troop of over a hundred soldiers. Never mind.