The group, guided by soldiers, traveled across the grasslands.
Having sandals, at least, was a relief. It would have been cruel to make Arnella and Noel walk barefoot.
Sepia was always floating, and Mastema, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to walking barefoot, no matter the terrain. She once claimed she could walk over magma without issue.
After walking a while, they reached a well-maintained highway. The dirt was leveled and firmly packed.
Parked along the road was a carriage with a loading bed attached at the back. However, it looked different from the carriages they were familiar with. While not as grand as a magical carriage, it was likely made of iron rather than wood, giving it a sturdy appearance.
Although unadorned, it hardly seemed like something meant for low-ranking soldiers.
“Iron, huh? Isn’t it too heavy for horses to pull?”
“Your people still use wooden carriages? Look here.”
The soldier pointed to the connection between the wheel and the carriage.
“The axle is smooth, so it doesn’t snag when it rotates. Because of that, the horses don’t tire easily, even with more weight.”
“I see,” he replied, though he didn’t fully grasp the explanation.
Curious, he discreetly asked Sepia.
“Is that true?”
“It is! Though outside of the Magitech Nation, there aren’t many places that can craft axles with such precision. But it seems to be different here,” Sepia said, puffing out her chest proudly.
Despite being exiled, she still held pride in the technology of the Magitech Nation. Out of pity, he chose not to point it out.
“You see, wheels—originally called rollers—work as long as they roll smoothly. Weight isn’t much of an issue, but wasted effort is what tires you out,” she explained.
“So it’s about avoiding unnecessary effort?”
That analogy made sense. It was similar to how inefficient combat techniques or sword swings caused faster fatigue.
“Here, take these. At least for the women,” said the soldier, handing over some light hoods.
Though a bit worn, they were adequate for covering their skin.
“Thanks, that helps.”
“Don’t mention it. They’ll be replaced soon anyway. Just say that golem tore them up.”
After thanking him, the soldier climbed onto the carriage. It seemed he wanted to impress the women, a motive so transparent it was almost endearing.
Unfortunately for him, aside from Sepia, all the women here were his.
They climbed onto the carriage bed and settled on the floor. There was a partition separating the bed from the seating area, making it unlikely their conversation would carry over unless they spoke loudly.
“What do you think?”
“…I’m sorry. I don’t know,” Arnella admitted, bowing her head.
He stopped her. If he didn’t know either, there was no need for her to feel responsible.
Noel, after some thought, spoke up.
“They were speaking the Kingdom’s language.”
“Now that you mention it, they were.”
It hadn’t struck him as odd, but the language flowed naturally. Though they’d supposedly traveled through time via the Sands of Time, perhaps the temporal or spatial gap wasn’t as significant as he feared.
Still, complacency could be dangerous. He couldn’t let his guard down.
“This is some high-quality iron,” Sepia noted, knocking on the floor, which produced a light sound.
“The Kingdom wasn’t known for great ironworks, and even the Empire’s skills were just a bit better. I didn’t think they could produce iron this good,” she remarked.
“Iron, huh? Is it really that different? It does look polished,” he commented.
“Well, explaining metallurgy will take too long, so I’ll keep it simple,” Sepia said, miming the act of moving a box aside—a habit from her days as an academy head, perhaps.
“Good iron is hard to make. It requires precise temperature control and furnaces that can perfectly contain heat. Poor-quality iron is fine for adventurers’ armor, but this carriage is made of proper iron—no impurities, with carefully adjusted carbon levels. That takes skill.”
“I see.”
While the region seemed to surpass the Kingdom and Empire in ironworking, that fact alone wasn’t actionable for now. Still, it was worth noting they might be heading toward an advanced nation.
Mastema seemed entirely uninterested, likely because no matter how refined the tools, they posed no threat to her. She reclined, using a hood as a pillow, and dozed off.
Her pale skin stood out against the black iron floor. He wondered if it wasn’t cold.
“For now, let’s focus on gathering information. Share anything you notice or learn immediately.”
The others nodded, except for the sleeping Mastema.
The carriage began to move. It wasn’t as smooth as a magical carriage but still tolerable.
The scenery outside remained much the same as before.
After some time, he noticed something strange. Despite being far from a city, there were no signs of monsters attacking their carriage.
“There aren’t many monsters around.”
“I used detection magic, but they’re sparse. Only weak ones,” Noel noted.
“That’s strange. No matter how many monsters adventurers cull, their numbers never truly drop.”
“Maybe it’s a sign this place works differently,” Sepia suggested.
After traveling for half a day, the group stopped to camp. The soldiers shared a bit of their food, as their supplies were limited.
Jerky and hard bread were common to both worlds, he observed with mild amusement.
“Leave the food prep to us. We haven’t been much help otherwise,” Arnella offered.
Arnella and Noel swiftly used water and fire magic to prepare the meal.
Even with hoods covering their swimsuits, the occasional glimpse beneath was oddly provocative. It was wise to camp a bit away from the soldiers; otherwise, such sights might have tempted trouble during the night.
“You’re drooling,” Mastema teased, jabbing his stomach with her fist. It hurt more than he expected.
