Chapter 70: Littal

“Arthur. Wake up. Arthur Teamaster. It’s time to go.”

Milo, unlike Arthur, had gone to bed at a very reasonable hour and had not, as far as Arthur knew, stayed up half the night giggling to himself in pure joy. As a result, he was much, much fresher than Arthur. He was ready to face the day. Arthur, by comparison, had spent the day swinging from one emotion to the next like a ping pong ball.

“Fine. I’m awake. Let's load up the wagon.”

“It’s already loaded up. Just wash up so Mom can feed us, and we’ll be on our way.”

Ella had clearly prioritized calories in the meal. Even if they somehow forgot to eat the entire trip, they’d still come out more or less okay. Everything ranging from bread, eggs, to meat had been baked, fried, or otherwise cooked with so much butter that Arthur suspected it wouldn’t have quite worked without the backing of a great deal of majicka running through an overdeveloped cooking skill.

But with those things in place? Magic happened.

“Ella, this is so much food.”

“Well, that’s sort of what I do. Eat more of it.”

“I literally can’t. I was full after the first bite. The rest of the eating has been so you don’t feel like your efforts went to waste.”

“Oh, well, no worries there. Sandwiches. I can make all this into sandwiches and wrap them in paper. In fact, take this one to your driver. Can’t hurt to make friends with him.”

After delivering a blistering combination of hugs, warnings about danger, and promises of Mom-imposed danger if they failed to avoid any of the threats she had warned about, Milo and Arthur finally got out the door, dragging their wagon full of goods across the city to the empty space by the gate where the transporters gathered.

“And you are sure we didn’t bring too much stuff?” Arthur asked.

“Even if you did, you brought this sandwich,” Talca said through a mouth of eggs and meat. “This sandwich means you can do whatever you want. Load a building into the cart, for all I care.”

Even before dawn, the area near the gate was fairly active. Cargo wagon drivers were organizing and reorganizing loads, business people were talking to new arrivals to accept delivery of packages, and overall commerce was happening. Milo and Arthur seemed to be the only actual travelers heading out from that gate, which gave Arthur a few clues as to how common this type of travel actually was.

Talca’s wagon was relatively simple. Two plain benches lined the wall, which opened up to an uncovered top. Simple wagon tongues stuck out towards the front, devoid of any other kind of tackle that seemed like something might mount to it. Just as Arthur finished tying down his boxes and started speculating that Talca was going to pull the wagon himself, the rock man finished his sandwich, tossed the balled-up paper into a nearby trash bin with surprising accuracy, and got ready.

“Okay, that’s that then. I’ll go get Littal. You two stay here.” He hopped off the wagon and ran off as Arthur looked at Milo in confusion.

“Probably a Hing. Too small of a wagon for a Triung. It wouldn’t make any difference anyway.”

“Neither of those words translate.”

“Triungs are big, big beasts of burden. And one of the sources of milk. Hings are smaller, and more… wild, I guess? If you see a Hing without its handler, you don’t want to approach it.”

Arthur nodded, not really comprehending anything until Talca finally rounded a corner and came back into their view, dragging-slash-getting-dragged by something that looked like a carnivorous ram. It had the same kind of shaggy fur, and the same kind of curved horns. The carnivorous-looking part had to do with its build and muscle. It was low to the ground, absolutely ripped, and generally looked fast and strong in a way that made Milo’s warnings about Hings suddenly make much more sense.

“Don’t worry too much about Little Tal.” Talca took two of the leather leads strapped to the animal, reached under the wagon-tongues, and secured them somehow. “He’s just excited to get out on the road again.”

“He looks strong.”

“Littal? Yeah, he is. I assume you two are smart enough to know this already, but if you get some idea of wanting to ride him or tease him, he’ll correct your mistakes himself. And you don’t want that, trust me.” Talca thought for a moment, seeming to mull over some possible addition to the statement. “Oh, and if he makes a noise halfway between a snort and a scream, you might want to bail from the wagon. There aren’t that many lady Hings out in the wild anymore, but if he sees one, all bets are off.”

Talca climbed aboard the driver’s seat, adjusting various straps that connected to the animal while Milo and Arthur got comfortable on the benches.

“Okay, you two ready? We can probably get on our way now,” Talca said.

“Wait!” A weak yell came from the distance as a clearly out-of-breath figure half-ran towards them. “Arthur! Milo!”

“You know that porcupine?” Talca asked.

“Yeah. That’s Spiky, I think,” Milo said.

“They are all spiky,” Talca laughed. “You want to see what he wants?”

They did, and it turned out to be a simple request.

“I just found out from Rhodia last night. She was getting books because she said she’d be bored without you here.” Spiky leaned against the wagon, clearly winded and from what Arthur could see trying not to heave. “And then I overslept. But I’m here.”

“We got that part, Spiky. But what do you want?”

“To go. With you. It’s a frontier town, and your dad has new maps. That’s a lot of new knowledge. That’s how I get experience, Milo.”

“Oh, huh. Did not think of that. Arthur?”

“You have supplies and all that?”

“Yes. Here in my bag.”

“Talca?”

“No problem here, except that’s a change in the cost. More tiring for me. And it’s going to add about a half day to the travel time. Weight does that.”

“I can pay.” Spiky held up a jingling bag of coins. “My share plus the extra. I still live with my parents. I never spend anything.”

“I think I’m okay with that delay,” Milo said. “And having a librarian along seems like a good thing.”

“Oh, a librarian? Yeah, you want him along. He can keep you out of weird poisonous plants you don’t recognize,” Talca agreed.

That was settled quickly, and Spiky threw his bag aboard the wagon before climbing up. Talca looked out at the streets around him, apparently making sure there weren’t going to be any more surprise visitors, before turning back to the crew.

“Everyone ready? Good. Littal, Yee.”

At the sound of the Yee, Littal sprung into immediate motion, jerking the cart out of inertia and immediately wheeling towards the gate. Whatever method Talca was using to direct the ram was invisible to Arthur, if he was steering right now at all. Littal seemed good enough at his own work that he might have been steering himself.

“It’s going to be slow for the first half hour or so. The road we need doesn’t connect directly to this gate, and we can’t get up to full speed when bigger wagons might be coming in. After that, it’s off to the races. Now, don’t talk to me. I’m concentrating.”

“Is he even steering?” Arthur looked at Spiky for answers. “It seems like he’s just sitting there.”

“He might be. But it won’t look any different when he actually is. The reins he has are for if the animal gets out of control, but otherwise there are any number of class skills that let him direct a well-trained animal without direct contact.”

“Like mind control?”

“That’s not so much a thing outside of fiction books. Even in wartime, the system didn’t really allow skills that messed with people’s minds. Very occasionally it allows something like that as a treatment, but it’s always something that’s in the favor of the treated, and something they have to want to happen and more or less give permission to. That’s true even with animals.”

“So how does a tamer or shepherd skill work? I’ve seen both of those.”

“It helps communicate intent, to bridge the gap between how demons talk and how animals hear. But there’s no control aspect.”

Meanwhile, the big scary goat was doing just fine getting them away from the city. Once the roads were clear enough, the speed restriction was forgotten and Arthur struggled to keep his teeth from clacking together as the wagon flew forward. They were probably only going car-in-a-school-zone speeds, but in an open air wagon with little in the way of shocks, it felt much faster.

Finally, they worked their way through a series of smaller roads and entered a roadway almost as substantial as the one that had led directly away from the gate. With the city behind them and flat plains in front of them, the wagon came to a halt.

“Okay, that’s that. Time to get these wheels turning. Do any of you have a rider skill?”

Milo and Spiky shook their heads.

“Well, get ready. You are about to get one. Littal, Yee. Yee!”

Arthur almost tumbled out of the wagon as the goat beast kicked itself into its actual work mode. He had been wrong about the speed restriction before. All he could do was keep himself in his seat, and if he could have, he would have pulled cloth from his bag to cushion the space between his teeth.

For a full hour, there was little in the way of talking or fun. There was just endless jostling as the wagon crashed down the road, punctuated by huge shocks whenever some hole or bump got in the way. Talca’s promise of a nap was evidently some kind of inside joke.

And then, all the sudden, it was over. The wagon wasn’t going any slower, but the ride smoothed out almost entirely.

“What happened?” Arthur said. “Did this thing suddenly get shocks?”

“Check your status screen,” Milo said. “He did us a favor.”

Arthur pulled up his screen, zooming in immediately on the new skill.

Passenger (Non-leveling skill)

When you ride a conveyance or beast being steered by a transportation-classed individual, some of the benefits of their class apply to you in terms of your ability to balance yourself, absorb shocks, and generally smooth out your own ride.

The higher the level of the transportation class’s relevant skills, the greater the effect.

Arthur’s estimate of Talca’s level jumped several steps higher as he experienced the now relatively smooth ride. They were still eating up the gravel road at the same pace, and if he focused, he could tell the wagon was still moving about the same amount. But his body was compensating for all that so well it almost didn’t matter anymore.

“That’s absolutely wild. Do most people have this skill?”

“Normally, it takes longer to get,” Talca answered from his seat. “If you rode cargo wagons, it might take days of travel. But the more you seem to need the skill, the more likely the system is to grant it. Littal is a bit of an expert in breaking green riders. Aren’t you, Littal?”

The animal raised its head and let loose a sort of grunting bray.

“Well, it’s appreciated. Thanks, Littal.” Arthur bent down and started to pry open the lid on one of his tied-down boxes. “And now that everything’s smoothed out a bit, I think we should probably get started on these snacks.”