“The Mage Guild exclusively recruits Academy graduates to its ranks. They create many of the magical items in Illyria’s markets.”

Chapter 34

The Caravan set out from East Haven in high spirits. Even Quentin was smiling and chatting with Wil, enjoying the journey. Although they were unable to retrieve her relics, the compensation from the Association was more than enough to equal what she would have made auctioning the items in the capital.

Looking to avoid conflict with her supposed backer, they had given her some of the coin they had seized from Barton and the other merchants involved in illegal activities. All while subtly hinting the expectation that when she reported the loss to the Earl, she would speak kindly on their behalf.

Quentin had readily agreed. She was more than happy to put in a word with an Earl she had no intention of ever meeting.

She was impressed. The hastily constructed web of lies that Wil had crafted had held under scrutiny. It made her wonder just how bad Wil’s reputation must be in the Capital that Margaret didn’t even question his actions.

Wil remained tight lipped whenever Quentin asked him. He would simply say that it was all baseless rumors, waving off all her inquiries.

As for Wil, his injured eye had faded to a dull yellowish brown. With Quentin’s good mood, he even avoided any further injuries.

The fair weather held as they traveled across the Eastern Provinces. Quentin visited towns and cities along the way. Buying and selling goods at each location. Her already large profits grew ever bigger, and her smile became wider and wider as the journeyed.

For Wil, his day consisted of riding alongside either Bell or Quentin as one day blended into the other.

He would listen to Bell tell endless story after story, while he learned more about being a merchant from Quentin. It was more than he would ever want to learn.

As they traveled north, they left the flat farmland and fields of golden grain behind. They made their way into the gently rolling green hills and pastures of the lower Northern Provinces.

As they followed the winding path, under the blue sky and fluffy white clouds, Wil marveled at how peaceful things were.

After seeing the horror of the attack on Whitewater, the idyllic landscape here relaxed him. It eased a tension in his shoulders that he hadn’t realized he had been carrying since last Night.

The numerous towns and cities that dotted the Eastern Province became sparse as they traveled north.

They could no longer rest in Inns every evening. They camped out in tents or under the wagons in the warm late spring weather.

The Northern Region of Illyria, when compared to the other provinces, was the least populated.

Although it was rich in natural resources, it was also rugged and inhospitable further north. The small population lived in heavily guarded villages and small towns. The wilderness was too dangerous to live alone in homesteads, like they had seen in the southern regions.

The North was a great source of profit for the Mercantile Association.

Heavily armed and well supplied Caravans could travel to the isolated towns and villages, bringing in much needed goods while purchasing raw ores or gemstones mined from the mountains. The wilderness was filled with herbs and medicines that were in high demand by potion makers.

Beast materials and harvested materials from rare monsters or creatures were a requirement in creating magical items, and the northern wilderness made a perfect hunting ground.

Quentin planned on traveling to some of the more isolated northern communities.

They would cross westward through the province, before turning south and entering the Western Region and selling the profitable northern goods in Elbing. Bell had traveled the route before. The main roads were well constructed and safe during the day, although there were occasional attacks on traders

Days passed, and the warm sunny weather began to turn cold again. Thin silk dresses and sleeveless cotton shirts were replaced by thick woolen clothing and heavy overcoats.

The Caravan drivers and guards wore warm, fur lined cloaks and leather gloves to ward off the cold.

Wil, having outfitted himself for the warm weather of the East, purchased winter clothing as soon as the temperature first dipped. Having grown up in the south, he was not comfortable in the cold. Wil bought a thick, fur lined cloak and warm leather gloves at the first opportunity.

The green hills gradually grew larger. The road a series of steep inclines, before heading downwards into thick, evergreen forest valleys.

The calm blue rivers of the south were replaced with fast moving mountain streams. Ice cold runoff from the snow-covered mountains, visible in the distance.

As the temperature dropped, snow began to appear again on the ground in patches. It stubbornly refused to melt in the late spring weather.

In the east, Farmers had been planting for months, with their fields already showing thick golden grains. In the north, the late spring weather still brought the occasionally snowstorm. It would be another month at least before the weather truly grew comfortable.

As the paths became steeper, the steady flow of travelers thinned significantly. Only heavily armed and well provisioned Caravans, similar to their own, traveled the road. The well-worn roads narrowed, becoming muddier and harder to traverse.

After a full week of traveling, the bright sunlight was hidden by thick, dark grey clouds. The rain, which Wil had prayed would continue to stay away, finally came back with vengeance.

Heavy rain drops made a steady drumming on the canvas covered wagons. During the evenings they were forced to either sleep under the carts, or huddle together in the few spaces they could find protected by the canvas.

Quentin had the only covered passenger carriage in the group, but she was not spared either. The persistent rain made everything damp and chilly. The wind, gentle and warm in the south, had picked up and its constant howling was ever-present, even when they were sheltered in the tree filled valleys.

Wil was completely miserable as he huddled in his heavy cloak, sitting on his horse and watching the drivers attempting to dislodge a stuck wagon.

The road was completely muddy from the rain. It was rutted and uneven, with large sections completely untraversable. This was the third time today that a wagon had become stuck.

Wil looked at the sky, trying to judge the time through the ever-present clouds. It was just after midday, from what he could tell. They would soon by stopping to rest the horses.

The journey had become a slog, the horses tired from hauling the heavily laden wagons through the mud, and the drivers were equally exhausted. Everyone was miserable from the weather and looked forward to arriving at a town with an Inn tomorrow.

While Wil looked on, Bell came walking over to him. His boots splashed in the muddy road. Bell had given up any pretense of sobriety. He had a week’s growth of hair on his face and his eyes were constantly red rimmed.

Despite his drinking, Wil found himself respecting Bell’s opinion.

The other man had a sixth sense for trouble. Twice now he had warned the Caravan of upcoming trouble. Once from a group of village thugs looking for wine to steal, and a washed-out road that would have broken a horse’s leg.

“Bloody rain, be the death of us.” Bell said as he spat onto the ground and wiped his mouth. He pulled out his flask and took a quick swallow, before placing it back under his cloak.

Wil nodded to the other man, “Is there another road we can take? We’ll never get anywhere if we need to dig the wagons out every hour.” Wil said, climbing off his horse to speak to Bell. His boots sank into the muddy ground, and he grimaced. He would need to clean them before he got back on his horse.

Bell shook his head. “Only road the wagons can take north. The mud won’t be a problem in a day or two, the road turns rocky about a day’s ride from here.” He said, pointing at a distant mountain directly ahead. “Should stop raining tomorrow.” He predicted, looking up at the clouds.

“You can forecast the weather now as well?” Wil scoffed at the other man.

Bell grinned at Wil and nodded. “I can feel it! My knee always aches when it rains, and it’s been getting better all day. Should clear up by evening by my guess.” He said, before looking back at the sky above. The rain continued to fall, as if to spite him.

Wil barked a laugh at the other man, shaking his head at the idea that his knee could predict the weather.

With a loud, squelching sound, the wagon came free and began to move down the path. Wil turned towards the front of the convoy, where Quentin’s carriage led the twenty wagons forward.

Summoning another cleaning spell for his clothing, he felt the slight tug on his Mana. His boots tidy again, Wil remounted his horse and began to follow the wagon. Bell spat on the ground again and turned to climb onto his horse. He kicked it into motion after Wil.

Bell’s prediction was correct, the rain did stop that evening.

It started to snow instead, as the caravan continued traveling north.