Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard - Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard chapter 8

8 – Episode 8

# 8

‘6 years… no, 7 years perhaps.’

Overlooking the tranquil roadway, Ian drowned in his thoughts.

It felt like just yesterday when he ventured to the Golden Range to study magic. The child back then returned as an adult, a wizard at that.

“We should part ways soon.”

Eredis had travelled with Ian to the foot of the range but they could go no further together.

The city of Dranheim held a pyromancer conference, exactly opposite to where Ian was supposed to go.

“Ian, you should attend the meeting of the Chronomancers.”

“Pardon?”

Eredis had appointed a strange new destination for Ian.

It was the Chronomancers’ meeting indeed.

“Chronomancers gather in a place called Chronorike. I’ve heard there’s a gate leading to Chronorike somewhere in the northernmost end.”

Eredis’s directions were abstract. A command to go to a place he doesn’t know and meet people he doesn’t know.

Ian was at a loss, but Eredis explained calmly.

“If you are destined to learn space-time magic, you will meet a Chronomancer there. If not, learn Dimensional Magic or Photon Magic. The Arctic frequently has auroras, so it will be easy to learn.”

“Isn’t that too vague?”

“That’s just how Chronomancers operate.”

Contrary to the anxious Ian, Eredis felt an incredibly strong current of fate emanating from him. It was the conviction that Ian was destined to delve into chronomancy. Although Eredis hadn’t studied chronomancy herself, she had an intuition borne of countless interactions with deep mystical forces. Ian had an innate affinity for the mystical. He was certain to master the power of time too.

“Ian.”

“Yes, Master.”

“In three years. Let’s meet again at the next meeting of pyromancers in Dranheim.”

In three years, in Dranheim.

Eredis would introduce her apprentice to the other pyromancers, boasting about Ian who had grown into a respectable sorcerer.

“I’ll remember.”

“Heh-heh. Then let’s meet again in three years.”

Eredis, with a broad smile, bid Ian goodbye. She could have taken him to Dranheim right away, but that would only bring him too close to Pyromancy. He might even want to become a pyromancer like his master.

‘… One pyromancer is enough.’

She wanted her apprentice to gain more experience in the wider world. If he still wanted to become a pyromancer in three years, she planned not to dissuade him.

‘I wish him to become a splendid sorcerer.’

Left alone, Eredis followed a straight path. Wandering the world was one of the things she did best.

#

‘What a pity.’

Just as Eredis had suspected, Ian was considering Pyromancy for his future specialization.

Flames Magic!

A magic that burns something with fire!

Usually, 99% of what Flame Magicians burn is the enemy. Occasionally, there are wizards who use magic for purposes such as burning garbage, but almost all Flames Magic is used to obliterate enemies in front of them.

Ian, of Korean descent, is someone who loves DPS more than anyone else. To burn and kill enemies with magic? The mere thought makes his heart swell with excitement.

Of course, Ian is still an innocent soul who has yet to experience murder. But as he travels the world, there will come a time when he has to kill.

Whether it’s a murderer, a robber, or an assassin acting under someone’s order. When some brute comes at him yelling ‘Die, wizard!’ and thrusts a sword at him.

‘You’re trying to kill me, Ian?’ There’s not an iota of intention to dutifully die.

That’s why he wanted to major in Flames Magic.

Erelys, however, didn’t seem to hope that Ian would follow her and become a Flame Magician.

‘I admit, the entry level was a bit painful.’

The sensation of burning alive was really horrifying. It was fortunate that Erelys prevented his body from catching fire with her magic. Otherwise, he would have been inflicted with terrible burns all over.

‘I’ll think about that later…’

No need to rush in deciding his major.

First, he had to complete the quest his master had given him: ‘Meet a Time Magician’.

Since they were located in the North, his first priority was to move northward.

Ian knew that Time Magicians were those who toyed with the future. They probably already knew that Ian was heading north, so they should surely come to meet him.

And if they don’t come to meet him? If he wasn’t destined to meet a Time Magician, he could simply give up neatly and learn another magic.

“We’ve arrived!”

“Thank you, Elder.”

Ian extended a small fee to the old man who had driven him all the way to the village. It was a commonly circulated copper coin in the empire, also referred to as a penny.

“What’s this?”

“…It’s money.”

But the old man could not recognize the coin.

Living his entire life in a small village, merely working the field had caused this unawareness.

“This is for the ride. It’s all I have…”

The old man examined the coin from all angles, then tsk-ed.

“Never mind. I don’t know what this is, but you keep it. How could an old man like me take something from a young man?”

Had the old man known the value of the coin, he would have quickly pocketed it.

However, currency was a commodity handled by those involved in commerce, not familiar to people like the old man who only dealt with crops.

For the old man to convert the coin into goods, he’d have to travel to a city where merchant guilds were present. But traveling to another city was too strenuous for his old body. In other words, the coin was useless.

Ian, who had inadvertently saved money, felt irritated.

‘Has it only been a few days since I set out and I’m already in Hicksville?’

Eredis had generously given Ian some travel expenses. It was almost all of the money left from the amount she had received for her magical activities.

But lo and behold.

He had already reached a primitive countryside where the money had turned into a piece of metal.

In fact, this was a misunderstanding on Ian’s part. The empire was so vast; there were areas where the currency was used, and others not.

In other words, the village before him, known as Applehill, was only one of the many villages that didn’t use money.

Nevertheless, Ian anticipated (wrongly) that only rustic villages would be spread out ahead of him as he wandered the streets.

“Huh?”

As if to prove Ian’s delusions, he saw a crowd of people gathered in front of him like a cloud.

“Come, come! It’s cheap! Buy it!”

“Such trades don’t happen every day~ Choose, choose~”

“Kitchen knives, sickles, large nails, hammers! There’s nothing we don’t have!”

A massive market fanned out in the center of the village.

The villagers were almost fighting each other, their eyes bloodshot from choosing the goods.

‘Wow.’

Ian seemed to know the traders’ names.

They were called peddlers of the ‘store of everything.’

They were trading ironware and sundries with villagers’ treasures.

The treasures included genuinely valuable goods – honey, medicinal herbs, animal horns, and sols but there were also garbage such as radishes picked from the field and statues made at home for fun were mixed in.

“Young man! Do you need anything?”

“No, just looking around.”

“If you need anything just say it!”

While there were people gathering, Ian spoke with the villagers. By asking questions here and there, he gathered information to head to the next village.

“North? What’s in the North?”

“Oh, River Ville is in the North~”

“River Ville? Is River Ville in the North?”

“You, don’t you know North?”

Truth be told, even the villagers weren’t sure.

In this era, traveling was not a common thing.

The roads were always teeming with thieves and monsters. If you wandered too far from home, it was like gambling with your life, so who in their right mind would risk it?

But still, he knew where the next village was. It wasn’t a complete loss.

“Hey! Tom! Apparently, this lad is heading North!”

“North? How far north?”

“Quite far north, it seems!”

A village man with a propensity to meddle offered some unexpected information.

“They say Mr. Rick is heading north. Why don’t you follow him!”

“Who?”

“Mr. Rik! The Horse Piss Tavern is here!”

What a name.

Ian felt disgust rising within him but he didn’t air out his concerns. It’s up to the owner what they name their tavern. Whether it’s called Dogpoop’s Tavern or Cowdung’s Tavern, it really doesn’t matter.

As directed by the village folk, Ian made his way to the tavern.

It was the only one in the village, so it was easily located.

Even without asking, one could tell that the ‘Horse Piss Tavern’ was a place you would eventually visit while exploring the village.

Especially because quite a crowd was gathered.

“Are you a customer?”

Upon seeing the state of the tavern, Ian couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

A rundown fence hastily made of wood and a platform thrown together in similar fashion.

On it, customers gorging on liquor and meat, and guests sprawled and sleeping inside the rooms.

No matter how you looked at it…

‘It’s a dive.’

It was no different than a tavern from the Joseon era. In fact, it was exactly that.

The fabulous two-story taverns he had read about in fantasy novels were actually high-end taverns that could only be found in fancy cities.

“Do you have rice soup?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, stew.”

“We have that. Please sit.”

Incredible. Ian then ordered rice soup in this dive.

No, he ordered stew in the tavern, and sat down wherever he wanted.

Suddenly, it seemed like this wasn’t an original outdoor establishment, but they had to quickly expand as the number of customers increased.

The landlady, I mean, the tavern owner placed a bowl of red porridge in front of Ian.

Ian poked at the porridge with a spoon.

What did they put in that turned the porridge red? Is it safe to eat?

Ian glanced around the kitchen, but the ingredients for the stew were unknown. The menu Ian had received was ‘Eternal Stew’, a fairly famous recipe.

Eternal Stew is a stew that, literally, boils forever.

First, you light the fire under the pot, toss in any ingredients, and boil it into a stew. When the portion decreases from eating, you add more ingredients. That’s Eternal Stew.

Surprisingly, it was edible, probably because not a single spice was added.

It’s impossible for it not to taste odd considering it was boiled with potatoes, oats, carrots, any kind of meat, and seasoned with salt.

Ian tasted a spoonful of the Eternal Stew and marveled at it.

Ah. It has a healthy and absurd taste.

It was richer than the stew his mom occasionally made at home, which can be attributed to the variety of ingredients

But, without adding a single spice, this exciting medieval-style food always gave off a healthy taste that filled the mouth.

The taste was only ever salty. The taste of salt was everything.

‘My master was an amazing cook…’

Eredith, a freak who fearlessly committed acts he experienced while travelling in the medieval age, had exceptional cooking skills due to the experience of tasting the cuisine from various parts of the empire.

My master even used ‘spices’ like onions and peppers in his cooking.

Those rotten guys who eat salt by drowning their food in it, wouldn’t even glance at his cooking, making it guessable how exceptional it was.

“Here’s your bread.”

“Thank you.”

Middle Ages – Regrettably, the barmaid put down some bread and butter and disappeared.

If you want to talk about this butter, it’s the kimchi of the medieval people. It’s a spice made from fat.

It’s not a joke, these medieval fantasy people really ate their meals with the flavor of butter. Butter was originally a cheat-like ingredient.

Just potatoes? Dull. Buttered potatoes? Oh! So delicious!

But looking at it, the butter itself is also a mixture of fat + salt.

In the end, it’s impossible to escape from the grip of salt.

Taking a bite of the bread smeared with butter that’s been dunked into the stew gives off a feeling as if you’ll automatically burst out into Latin.

It’s so rich.

Where the heck is the kimchi? Where did the essence of the dining table disappear to!

For the people of the Korean peninsula, who ate roasted garlic with kimchi and sesame leaves, this diet, soaked in animal fat, was akin to torture.

No wonder the people of the Middle Ages were obsessed with pepper.

Primitives.

“Nice to meet you for the first time. Where are you from?”

Looking up, the medieval – the hostess had joined naturally.

Ian was amazed.

Indeed. The West does have a different sense of distance! Such a natural amalgamation!

“I am a traveler. I came here because there is supposed to be someone named Riku.”

“Oh! You’re headed north!”

She knew, even though I didn’t yet say anything.

“Riku! You have a guest!”

From Noble mtl dot com

“..?”

Suddenly the hostess was looking for a person named Riku.

Ian, an INFP, was surprised by the hostess’s sudden behavior. He is the type to feel burdened by new encounters.

“Oh. A traveler, are you?”

But before he could even react, a new face had joined Ian’s table.

It felt so burdensome that he felt sick.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Riku, top of the Rabbit Foot.”

“Top …?”

“Huh? Haven’t you seen our guys selling stuff in the village?”

Recalling the merchants he’d seen earlier, Ian nodded.

So, this man is a boss.