Chapter 8

'It's been... what, 6 years? No, 7 years.'

As Ian gazed at the peaceful road landscape, he became lost in thought.

It felt like just yesterday he had ascended the Golden Mountains to study magic.

The kid from back then had now returned to the world as an adult.

And as a wizard, no less.

"It's time to part ways, I suppose."

Eredith had accompanied him to the base of the mountains, but they could no longer travel together.

Dranheim, where the Council of Fire wizards was to be held, was in the opposite direction of Ian's next destination.

"Ian. You are to participate in the Space-time wizard Council."

"What?"

Eredith had marked Ian's next destination as a completely unexpected place.

The Council of Space-time wizards.

"Space-time wizards gather in a place called Chronolic, somewhere in the northernmost reaches. I've heard there's a portal to Chronolic there."

Eredith' instructions were vague.

Go to an unknown place to meet unknown people.

Ian didn't understand, but Eredith explained calmly.

"If you're destined to learn Space-time Magic, you'll meet a Space-time wizard there. If not, try learning dimension magic or photon magic. The polar regions often have auroras, so it should be easier to learn."

"Isn't this a bit disorganized?"

"That's just how Space-time wizards work."

While Ian felt uneasy, Eredith sensed a very strong flow of destiny in him.

She was convinced that Ian would embark on Space-time Magic.

Although Eredith had not learned Space-time Magic herself, she had the intuition of a wizard who had conversed with numerous mysteries.

Ian had a natural affinity for the mysteries.

He was destined to wield the power of time.

"Ian."

"Yes, Master."

"In three years, at the next Council of Fire wizards, let's meet in Dranheim."

In three years, in Dranheim.

Eredith planned to introduce her disciple to the other Fire wizards.

Proudly presenting Ian, who had grown into a proper wizard.

"I will remember."

"Hehe. Then, let's meet again in three years."

With a smile, Eredith bid farewell to Ian.

She could have taken Ian straight to Dranheim, but that would have brought him too close to Fire magic.

He might choose to follow his master into becoming a Fire wizard.

'... One Fire wizard is enough.'

She hoped her disciple would gain more experience in the wider world.

If he still wished to be a Fire wizard in three years, she wouldn't stop him.

'May you become a great wizard.'

Alone, Eredith walked along the straight path.

Wandering the world was one of the things she did best.

'What a pity.'

Just as Eredith had thought, Ian was considering Fire magic as his future specialty.

Fire magic!

The magic of burning things with fire!

Fire wizards mostly use their magic to burn enemies, about 99% of the time.

Some wizards use it for purposes like burning trash, but almost all Fire magic is used to eliminate enemies in front of them.

Ian, a Korean by heritage, loved the idea more than anyone else.

The idea of burning enemies to death with magic?

Just the thought of it filled his heart with grandeur.

Of course, Ian, still an innocent soul, had yet to experience taking a life.

But as he traveled the world, there would inevitably come a time when he'd have to kill someone.

Whether it be a murderer, a robber, or an assassin acting on someone's orders.

When someone comes at him with a knife shouting, "Die, wizard!"

He had no intention whatsoever of obliging with a "Yes, I, Ian! Will happily die for you!"

That's why he wanted to specialize in Fire magic.

But Eredith didn't seem keen on having Ian follow in her footsteps as a Fire wizard.

"Starting out was a bit tough."

The sensation of burning alive in a pit of fire was truly horrific.

It was only Eredith' magic that prevented his body from burning.

Otherwise, he would have suffered terrible full-body burns.

"I'll think about that later..."

He could slowly decide what to specialize in later.

For now, he had to focus on the quest given by his master, "Meet a Space-time wizard."

Since he was supposed to meet one in the north, heading north was the first step.

Ian knew that Space-time wizards were those who toyed with the future.

They would likely know in advance about his journey north and come to meet him.

If they didn't show up?

It meant he wasn't destined to meet a Space-time wizard, and he could simply move on and learn another type of magic.

"We've arrived!"

"Thank you."

Ian offered a modest fee to the old man who had given him a ride to the village in his cart.

It was a copper coin, commonly circulated in the Empire.

In other words, a coin.

"What's this?"

"...It's money."

But the old man didn't recognize what a coin was.

Having lived his whole life in a small village, solely farming, that was to be expected.

"This is for the ride. It's all I have..."

The old man examined the coin from all angles, then clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Keep it. I don't know what it is, but take it back. How can an old man like me take something from a young one?"

Had the old man recognized the value of the coin, he would have swiftly pocketed it.

However, currency was a commodity handled by those engaged in commerce, not something familiar to those like the old man who dealt with grain.

To exchange the coin for goods, he would have to travel to a distant city where the Merchant Guild was located.

For his aged body, traveling to another city was too demanding.

In other words, the coin was useless to him.

Ian, having unexpectedly saved his money, felt upset.

"How far have I traveled that I've reached such a backwater village?"

Eredith had given Ian a generous amount of money as travel expenses, nearly all that was left of the funds she had received for her magical activities.

But lo and behold.

He had already reached a primitive countryside where his money turned into mere metal scraps.

In reality, this was a misconception on Ian's part.

The Empire's land was so vast that there were regions where currency was common and others where it was not.

So, the village in front of him, called Apple Hill, was just one of the many that didn't use money.

Anyway, Ian walked through the streets, expecting only rural villages ahead of him (which wasn't true).

"Huh?"

As if to prove his misconception, Ian saw a crowd of people gathered like clouds.

"Come on, come on! It's cheap! It's a bargain!"

"Not an everyday occurrence, this market! Choose, choose!"

"Kitchen knives, sickles, nails, hammers! We've got everything!"

A huge open-air market was underway in the center of the village.

The villagers were frantically choosing items, as if possessed.

"Wow."

Ian felt he knew what these merchants were called.

They were peddlers, known as 'Jack-of-all-trades'.

They were trading industrial goods like hardware and household items for the villagers' treasures – real valuables like honey, medicinal herbs, animal horns, and skins, but also junk like turnips plucked from the fields or amateurish statues made at home.

"Young man! Looking for something?"

"No, just looking around."

"If you need anything, just tell me!"

Taking advantage of the crowd, Ian asked the villagers for directions to the next village.

"North? What's up north?"

"Oh, River Ville is to the north."

"River Ville? Is that north?"

"What's with this guy? Don't you know north?"

Actually, even the villagers weren't too sure.

In this era, traveling wasn't common.

The roads were always teeming with bandits and monsters.

Just stepping out of your house could be a life-or-death situation; who in their right mind would roam the world?

But still, knowing the location of a neighboring village was something.

It wasn't a total loss.

"Hey! Tom! This guy here is heading north!"

"North? How far north?"

"Way up north, he says!"

An overly curious villager shared unexpected information.

"Rick is heading north. Why don't you go with him?"

"Who's Rick?"

"Rick! He's at the Horse Urine Tavern!"

No. Why on earth would a tavern be named like that?

Ian felt sick but didn't question it.

It's up to the owner what they name their establishment.

Whether it's called 'Dog Poo Tavern' or 'Cow Dung Tavern', what's it to him?

Ian headed to the tavern, as directed by the villagers.

It was the only tavern in the village, so it was easy to find.

The 'Horse Urine Tavern' was a place you'd inevitably visit while sightseeing in the village.

There was quite a crowd gathered, chatting and socializing.

"Are you a customer?"

Ian chuckled at the state of the tavern.

A shabbily constructed fence, much like the makeshift platforms where guests ate meat and drank liquor, and guests sprawled out inside the rooms.

This place was unmistakably...

'A tavern, right from the Joseon era.'

In fact, it was exactly that.

The fancy two-story taverns seen in fantasy novels were high-end establishments found only in cities.

"Do you have gukbap?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, stew."

"Yes, we do. Please have a seat."

There he was, Ian, ordering gukbap at a tavern.

He sat down at a random spot.

It seemed like the place wasn't originally set up for outdoor business but had hastily expanded its seating due to the sudden influx of customers.

The tavern owner, or rather, the landlady, placed a bowl of some red porridge in front of Ian.

Ian poked at the porridge with his spoon.

What did they put in it to make the porridge red?

Was it safe to eat?

Ian glanced at the kitchen but couldn't identify the ingredients of the stew.

What he received was the 'Eternal Stew', a recipe quite famous in its own right.

The Eternal Stew, as the name suggests, is a stew that's perpetually cooked.

First, a pot was placed on the fire, and any available ingredients were thrown in to make the stew.

As the quantity diminished, more random ingredients were added.

That was the nature of the Eternal Stew.

Surprisingly, the taste was decent, albeit lacking in spices.

Potatoes, oats, carrots, some kind of meat – all boiled and salted.

Ian tried a spoonful of the Eternal Stew and was amazed.

Ah.

It was a taste of health and blandness.

It had a richer flavor compared to the occasional stews his mother made at home.

The variety of ingredients contributed to that.

But even the thrilling medieval style food, made without a single speck of spice, always left a profoundly healthy taste in the mouth.

Only the taste of salt.

The saltiness of salt was everything.

'Master must have been an excellent cook...'

Eredith, a bizarre character who shamelessly indulged in the activities of medieval travelers and eccentrics, had excellent cooking skills thanks to her experiences with various cuisines across the empire.

The master had used 'spices' like onions and peppers in her cooking.

Unlike these folks, who simply added salt to salt, she never settled for such monstrosities, indicating her superior culinary skills.

"Here's some bread."

"Thank you."

The landlady graciously dropped off some bread and butter before disappearing.

This butter, in a sense, was the kimchi of medieval people.

A greasy spice made of fat.

No joke, these medieval fantasy folks really enjoyed their meals with the flavor of butter.

Butter was always a cheat-code ingredient.

Plain potatoes?

Dry and bland.

Butter-fried potatoes?

Oh, delicious!

But then, butter itself is essentially a mixture of oil and salt.

So, in the end, there's no escaping the clutches of salt.

Biting into the bread smeared with butter and dipped in stew, it felt like Latin words would spontaneously erupt from his mouth.

Excessively creamy.

Where's the kimchi?

Where did the sense of balance on the dining table disappear to?

For a Korean used to wrapping roasted garlic in kimchi and perilla leaves, a diet drenched in animal fat was almost like torture.

No wonder medieval people were crazy about pepper.

Such uncivilized folks.

"First time seeing you here. Where are you from?"

Looking up, Ian noticed that the landlady had seamlessly joined him at his table.

Ian was impressed.

The Western sense of personal space is different!

Such a natural way to join a table!

"I'm a traveler. I came looking for someone named Rick."

"Ah! You're heading north!"

He hadn't said anything yet.

How did she know?

"Rick! You have a guest!"

"...?"

Suddenly, the landlady called out for someone named Rick.

Ian, being an introvert, was taken aback by the landlady's impromptu behavior.

He found new encounters somewhat burdensome.

"Oh, a traveler, are you?"

But before he had time to feel uneasy, a new face joined Ian at his table.

The discomfort almost made him sick.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Rick of the Rabbit Foot Company."

"Company...?"

"Huh? Didn't you see our guys trading in the village?"

Recalling the traders he had seen earlier, Ian nodded.

So, this person was their boss.